Merry felt very grown-up. For the first time ever, his parents had let him go out for a walk without an adult. It was only him and his best friend, Stella, though iiritating little Pip had wanted to come too. Merry was twelve years old today, and he was very proud of the fact, though he couldn't help wishing that he was all grown up, like his wondeful cousin Frodo. It must be fun to be a tweenager. Some of the things that Frodo did confused him a little, though... Yesterday, at Brandy Hall, Merry had seen him kissing a lass. He frowned a little. Why would Fro' want to do that? He remembered that his Da kissed his Ma, too. Maybe lasses tasted nice? He liked things that tasted nice, like mushrooms, and honey, and apples.
He turned to his friend.
"Tella?" he asked seriously, fixing his brown eyes on her. "Tan I tiss you"
She wrinkled her nose. "Why"
"Tos Fro' did it, an' he's 'most grown-up," he explained earnestly. "And I want to see what't taste like"
She paused, then nodded. He leaned down a little bit, and pecked her on the lips.
"Yuck!" he exclaimed. "Lasses don't taste nice!" He wiped his mouth frantically with the back of his hand. "Yuck!" he repeated.
She giggled. He made a face at her, still trying to wipe the taste off his mouth.
"Tissing's silly," she said firmly, wrinkling her nose again. He nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Never tiss you 'gain..." he told her. Lasses just didn't taste nice.