Lost Creek Hollow where and when along the way

Pippin is just sleeping.. so more of a cameo.

His siblings were in a brawl – or, the only form of a brawl newborns could be in, and Pippin remained nestled against the warm fur of his mother. Occasionally, his tiny mouth would emit a squeak as he guided his way to a nipple, and supplementing himself with a few rounds of fresh milk, the boy would then drift back to the world of sleep, his pudgy face crusty with the milk that had oozed from his chin and then dried.
 
Dreams did not come in any form – he was simply content to be where he was. He felt safe, and usually warm, surrounded by his parents and siblings.. and given life was so simple at that point, he was content with that.