Chapter Eight: Sparkling

“Diamond? Diamond, wake up!”

Her half-lidded eyes saw only darkness, but she heard a jingling, and for a moment she thought she was a small lass again, awakening on the morn of Second Yule to her little sister’s entreaties, and the sound of sleigh bells.

Then she blinked her eyes open and saw, instead, Captain Peregrin standing by the bedside. He was dressed already, and bouncing on the balls of his feet, and the jingling was coming from the coins in the purse at his side.

“Come on!” he said, with another small bounce, and reached to tug at her arm. “We’re going to the Fair!”

The yard of the Smials was crowded with departing hobbits, despite the early hour, for many of the servants were taking advantage of the decrease in work heralded by the absence of the Thain and the Heir to take their own trips to the Fair. It was a long-standing tradition that this day was a bit of holiday at the Great Smials.

Pippin saw Diamond safely ensconced in the carriage with his mother, Pimpernel, and Pimpernel’s daughter, and then cantered Sorrel back to his father. “Are you still feeling all right, Da?” he asked in a low voice.

“Fit as a fiddle and right as rain!” Paladin crowed out, “Though to rain today ‘twould be very wrong,” he added and shook his fist in a gesture of mock threat at the clear sky just becoming visible in the first lights of dawn.

Pippin laughed, and cantered away again to pull up next to Everard.

“Good morning, slowpoke!” he called out cheerily.

“Pip--” Everard’s face fell in the dim light, and his lip trembled slightly.

“I meant your pony, silly,” Pippin laughed, and nudged his own mare with his heels. “Race you to the far fencepost,” he called out over his shoulder as he was off.

Everard laughed in turn, and spurred his own pony on to follow down the road to Michel Delving.

Pippin grinned as he felt the wind rushing through his curls, heard the pony’s hoofbeats below him, and smelled the clear air of the Shire. His father had been feeling well for over a week, now, with no sign of the troubles returning. This meant that Pippin’s own duties, assumed since he returned to the Smials in the spring, were once again less burdensome. And today, he was free to frolic and play at the Fair like the lad he had so recently been. The only truly grown-up responsibility he had to take care of this day was to vote -- and that would be a pleasure, not a chore, to cast his very first ballot ever for his dear friend Sam.

Within the cart, Pimpernel and Aster were the only hobbitesses who contributed to the din of the party’s chatter. The ten-year-old was continually raising herself to stand on the seat, or waving at hobbits she knew in the crowd, or pointing out new birds and other sights to her mother. Pimpernel, although she threw a frazzled smile or two in Diamond’s direction, had her hands full with keeping her daughter’s excitement contained, and trying not to let the lass wear herself out before they even reached Michel Delving.

Eglantine, taking advantage of the comfortable ride after the early morning’s awakening, dozed in a corner.

Diamond sat quietly and watched the road go by.

She thought, at first, when they arrived at Michel Delving’s fairgrounds, that she would be expected to spend the rest of the day in the company of Mistress Eglantine and Pimpernel, but Captain Peregrin pushed his way back through the crowd of hobbits tethering ponies and stabling carriages to stand before her. “So, what do you want to do first?” he asked eagerly.

Diamond’s eyes were round with wonder as she looked at the largest crowd of hobbits she had ever seen. Tent covers were billowing in a slight breeze, enticing aromas were wafting across the air, and the echo of music carried from someplace farther away, to be joined more discordantly with the nearby sounds of lads and lasses who had found noisemakers. She shook her head slightly, her mouth slightly agape.

“Have you never been to the Fair, then?” Pippin asked, cocking his head to one side.

“No, husband,” Diamond answered distractedly, her gaze still trying to follow all the new scenes at once. “I have not.”

“Well. Right, then,” he said, and grabbed her hand with a grin to pull her along behind him through the crowd. “I know something you’ll like.”

Diamond clutched tightly to Captain Peregrin’s hand as he weaved through the throngs of hobbits. He clearly had a destination in mind, but she did not want to become lost -- although -- oh! -- perhaps they would pass by that booth again later, and she would have opportunity to more closely examine its contents. And that -- that looked intriguing -- oh! She cast her eyes about her as her feet followed where Captain Peregrin led, her ears only dimly aware of some of the whispers from the crowd:

“The Long Cleeve.”

“Aye, I know of it. Been knowin’ not to speak on it much, for always.”

“Said she’s a North-Took, my cousin did.”

“Heard as near all the gentlehobbits was at the weddin’. Can’t be rilin’ the Thain, you know.”

“Heard he was right handsome at the weddin’, I did.”

“Poppy! You stop them giggles right now, and show some respect!”

Pippin stopped in front of one of the booths that lined a row full of food vendors. (Additional food stands, of course, were scattered throughout the fairgrounds.) Several of them had cooking fires crackling behind them. Later in the day, they would make the area beastly hot, but for now, the warmth merely took a bit of the morning’s coolness away.

“Sir,” Pippin said, withdrawing one of the coins from his purse with a flourish, “my wife would like a bag of your finest honey-roasted nuts.” He handed Diamond the small sack he received in return for his coin and accompanied a small bow with the smiling statement, “Mistress Took, your first breakfast.”

Diamond smiled back as she accepted the sack, and was about to thank him, when Pippin caught sight of another booth and grabbed at her hand, tugging her along again. Diamond watched, dismayed, as a nut fell from the top of the sack and landed upon the ground, to be crushed by those walking behind them.

“And here’s second breakfast!” Pippin crowed as he handed over another coin. This time, it was in exchange for a sack full of dough balls which had been deep-fried in a kettle of oil over the booth owner’s fire, then rolled in sugar.

Diamond was glad that, after this second purchase, they slowed their pace a bit. Captain Peregrin took her arm, then, as he did when he escorted her through the Great Smials, and they strolled on their way, each holding in the hand that belonged to their linked arms a sack of food.

Diamond was now free to use her other hand to actually eat the nuts, and he was right: she did like them! They were both salty and sweet, with that nutty flavor and crunch she so enjoyed. Captain Peregrin ate a couple of the nuts, himself, and told her she might share his dough balls. She took one, to be polite, when he tipped the sack toward her, but found it simply very chewy and sweet, and that she much preferred the combination of flavors to be found in her nuts. He was really a kind hobbit, Captain Peregrin was, to buy her such a treat, but she was also glad that he seemed to prefer the fried dough over the nuts, as it meant he ate fewer of them.

Their strolls, Diamond noticed, were taking her in an unexpected direction: toward barns. And stables. Surely they were not departing so soon, when there was so much more to see?

Her dismay must have been apparent, for Captain Peregrin leaned toward her and said, “I’ve found ‘tis best for dealing with Da if I get the obligations out of the way first thing. That way, we can have the rest of the day to play!” He added, as he straightened back up, “Just try to look interested,” but it was said in a mild tone, and Diamond decided, perhaps, the words were not meant to chide her, but merely as instruction.

The first barn they entered housed cattle, and Captain Peregrin made polite conversation with the hobbits tending them about milk production, and such things, while Diamond munched her nuts and looked curiously around.

Her family had had a milk cow, of course, and a pair of ponies, but it had always been the servants’ job to tend to them. Certainly such menial tasks had not fallen to Diamond since her betrothal, when her parents had kept her nearly sequestered in the smial except, upon occasion, to work in the garden, or on brief outings in the company of the family.

She therefore was quite fascinated to see the occasional spindly-legged calf nursing at its mother’s side or to glimpse, through the open door of the barn, the very large cow with a ring through its nose that could be heard occasionally snorting. It seemed, for some reason, to be tied up and penned far away from its fellow creatures.

“Diamond? Would you like some milk?” Captain Peregrin asked her, for the second time, it seemed, as he was holding a cup in front of her expectantly as the farmer waited.

“Oh!” she blushed furiously, her attention drawn back to him. “I am so sorry,” she quavered. “I was just -- just looking at the cows,” she concluded.

“Aye, they are a fine lot this year, aren’t they, Mistress?” the farmer asked, beaming. “I’m pleased to know you reckon ‘em so.”

“Oh,” Diamond breathed, but before she could say more, Captain Peregrin squeezed her arm gently and said, “A fine lot, and fine milk producers. I’m sure we’d both love to taste some of their wares,” and held out the cup.

“Of course, of course, right you are, sir!” the farmer smiled and bent to one of the cows to fill the cup directly with fresh milk. Diamond drained the cup first, after Pippin handed it to her, and murmured her thanks to the farmer, then handed the cup back to Captain Peregrin for the farmer to place more squirts in it, and him to drink his fill.

As they made their way out of the barn, Diamond noticed that there were several rows of cattle they hadn’t seen -- and she was curious about the big cow outside. “Husband, what--” she began to ask, but Pippin cut her off as he noticed the direction of her gaze toward the other rows.

“Those are beef cattle,” he told her, with a dismissive wave. “That’s really more of a Buckland thing.”

“Oh. Thank you, husband,” Diamond said, satisfied, and followed with him to the next barn.

She stood by his side as Pippin discussed wool with a farmer in the sheep barn, and racing with a hobbit in the pony barn. He stroked the noses of a few of these creatures, and cast glances about the stables as if he were looking for someone, but eventually concluded his talk with this farmer as he had with the others, and moved on to the hogs.

“Oh!” Diamond cried, and placed a hand over her nose -- the nuts and dough balls were consumed by this time, and the sacks discarded, so they each had a hand free. At the same time, Captain Peregrin appeared to take a deep breath and then let out the contented word, “Bacon,” with a wink at her disbelieving face.

He spoke, again, to a hobbit in the barn, but, when it seemed to Diamond as if it were time to leave, he turned to her and asked, “So, shall we look at this year’s prize boar, then?”

Diamond nodded uncertainly -- she would be glad to see a prizewinner. If only the smell in this place were not so unpleasant!

The crowd of young hobbits pressed up against the fence slats of a pen near the center of the barn parted way for Diamond to get close to the enclosure. Pippin, of course, was tall enough to see over the top without trouble.

“Aye, he’s a fine one, this year,” the farmer was saying into her husband’s ear as Diamond stared at the mammoth animal. It was shaped like a pig, true, but seemed nearer in size almost to one of the cattle as it lay there with its hoofs pointed toward her, sides heaving, doing nothing but flicking an occasional fly away with its ear.

“Some fine marblin’, it’ll make,” the farmer continued. “The hobbit that buys this one’ll have some fine roastin’ on ‘is table.”

“Aye, I’m sure ‘twill,” Pippin answered noncommittally, and the farmer pressed on.

“Looks as if the missus is findin’ his size somethin’ to look at as well, ey?” the farmer asked Pippin with a wink and a nudge.

Diamond, on Pippin’s opposite side, looked up with a blush to hear herself spoken of in jest.

Captain Peregrin’s eyes had gone cold as he regarded the farmer, and he took Diamond’s arm again, leading her away with cold words which seemed a statement to her, but which he addressed to the farmer with a frown. “Come along, then, Mistress Diamond,” he said. “I believe we are finished here.”

As they departed the hog barn, a hobbitess smacked the farmer, his smile still frozen upon his face, with an empty food sack she had rolled up.

“You fool!” she snorted. “I shouldn’t like to be you when you hafta tell Dan how you lost the sale of that prize boar o’ his to the Great Smials.”

“But,” the farmer whined now. “It were a joke. Last year, the lad woulda been laughin’ right alongside me.”

“Last year he weren’t married,” the hobbitess responded, her hands placed firmly on her hips and the sack still conveniently held within them. “And you’d no call to go insultin’ his wife. Like as not, she hain’t never seen a pig that big afore, if’n what we hear about the North Farthing’s true, but there still weren’t no call for it. Cap’n Peregrin hain’t no lad anymore: he’s the Heir to the Thain.”

Captain Peregrin’s stern mood had lifted as soon as they were free of the barn, and his shoulders sagged in apparent relief.

“Oi!” he said, rolling them back and extending his lower lip to puff a curl out of his eyes. “Well, that’s done, then -- and only a little over an hour, I should say.

“Unless,” and he looked at Diamond uncertainly and asked, “Did you want to go and see the chickens, then?”

“No, thank you, husband,” Diamond answered calmly, her eyes straying back toward the other booths. If chickens smelled anything like pigs, she was glad to be done with the barns!

“Good!” Pippin responded. “Da never asks if I went to see the chickens: he thinks they’re more for lasses. Although...” he trailed off, his eyes taking on a gleam as they traveled the area, until they alit on a certain booth. “Eggs!” he grinned and cried out, grabbing Diamond’s arm to tug her along again.

At the booth, Pippin purchased two oddly shaped objects. Coated in what appeared to be bread crumbs, an oval shape protruded from the end of a stick.

“Tookland eggs,” Pippin said, handing one stick to Diamond and taking a nibble of the bread-crumbed oval on the other himself. He swallowed, then smiled and said, “A hard-cooked egg, coated in sausage, then dipped into a beaten eggs, rolled in bread crumbs, and fried. Mmm.” He closed his eyes to savor another bite. They were twinkling when he opened them, and he told Diamond, “If you’re to be a proper Took, then, you should acquire the taste for ‘em.”

Diamond hesitantly took a bite of the egg on her own stick, and then willed herself to chew and swallow. If Captain Peregrin said she must acquire a taste for such things, then acquire it she must.

“Mmmphfy!” he suddenly shouted around a mouthful of egg, waving the hand which didn’t hold the stick above his head in the direction of a tall, blond hobbit sauntering toward the barns.

“There’s no need to shout, or to spray me, Pip,” Merry said as he drew closer, brushing some of the airborne bread crumbs off his yellow weskit. “If it’s not enough that you’re the second tallest hobbit here, I hardly think anyone could miss you in that getup. Honestly, why are you wearing that?”

Pippin looked down at the bright orange shirt he wore above a pair of old, but cool, blue breeches. The white braces, he’d thought, had been a nice summer touch. “’S got lots of pockets,” he said with a shrug, pulling a bit at the shirt. “Anyway,” he said with a roguish grin, “Diamond likes it, don’t you?”

Diamond was saved from having to answer this by the piece of Tookland egg she was dutifully chewing. Although, now that she took a closer look at her husband’s attire, she thought perhaps that was something she should add to her duties.

“Pockets?” Merry huffed. “What do you need so many pockets for, anyway? Couldn’t you just wear a weskit like a proper gentlehobbit?” He ran his hand over his own weskit, worn above a white shirt and brown breeches, preening a bit.

Pippin shrugged, undeterred. “Too hot,” he said. “Besides, you never know when you’ll need a pocket -- and there’s times you’ve been glad I had ‘em,” he added, waving the remainder of his egg toward Merry.

“Get that disgusting thing out of my face,” the Brandybuck said, and pushed it away.

Merry stood for a moment and smiled, looking at his young cousin. With that ridiculous outfit on, and munching on an egg, Pip looked like the lad he’d been when they set out on the Quest. The elder hobbit had been glad that the experiences of their travels had not changed Pippin too much, and that he’d had time at Crickhollow to heal further, and let Merry take care of him as he’d always done.

“It’s good to see you, Pip,” he said, and reached out for a hug.

“Ish good to shee you, too, Merry,” Pippin answered around a final mouthful of egg, hugging back hard with one arm while the other held onto the stick.

“So,” he asked slyly as they broke apart, “aren’t you going to greet Diamond, then? Diamond,” he turned toward her, “you remember my cousin, Merry Brandybuck.”

She nodded in polite acknowledgment, still chewing on her own egg.

“Charmed to meet you again, I’m sure,” Merry said with a bow, and reached for Diamond’s hand. She threw a questioning look toward Pippin, who gave a slight nod in return, and allowed Merry to kiss the back of her hand.

“So,” Merry said as he straightened up, “are you off to the barns, then? Uncle Paddin will ask you about it, you know,” he instructed.

“All done,” Pippin grinned. “Did it first thing. Now we’re off to see the Fair.” He waved his empty stick in a vague direction. “Where’s Mistress Estella Brandybuck anyway?” he asked, peering behind Merry as if expecting her to materialize.

Merry shrugged. “She had some things she wanted to do with other lasses, and I wanted to talk to the farmhobbits about this year’s pony stock, and the beef cattle. We’ll meet up again later.

“Come along back to the barns with me, Pip,” he said. “It’ll do you good to hear more talk of such things.”

Diamond’s eyes moved back to Pippin and, she was glad to see, he made a face of distaste. She did not want to go back to the barns.

Pippin, once again looking forward to a day free of responsibility and care, did not wish to do so, either.

“Merr-ee,” he whined, in the tone he’d perfected over the years, “come play!”

Merry sighed fondly and shook his head with a smile. His cousin sounded like a five-year-old. “Come on, then,” he said, placing a hand on Pippin’s shoulder to head him back toward the barns. “I know Uncle Paddin takes great pride in doing near to everything himself, but he’ll be glad to know that you’ve been diligent.”

Pippin squirmed quickly away from Merry’s guiding hand, and there was stubbornness and perhaps a touch of sadness on his face before it was gone in a flash, and he grinned once more.

“You can be a boring old hobbit if you want, Merry, and spend all day in the barns, but Diamond and I are going to have fun.” He grabbed hold of her had hand again, just as Diamond swallowed, with effort, the last bit of her egg, and called over his shoulder to Merry as he led her off, “We shall see you later!”

They spent the next couple of hours wandering, cheering on the piglet races -- Diamond was glad that they did not seem to smell as much in the open air -- and examining, finally, the wares of many of the booths. There were frequent purchases of snacks and they saw, upon occasion, other hobbits Diamond recognized by sight from the Great Smials and, frequently, those who greeted Captain Peregrin.

“Uncle Pip’n!” Aster cried out as he and Diamond stood at one booth, barreling into him behind the knees so that he staggered forward a little and placed a hand on Diamond’s shoulder for support. She held herself straight and sturdy for him to regain his balance as Aster chattered on.

“Mama won’t buy me a pretty. Come see,” she said, and tugged at his breeches while pointing to a nearby booth.

“Sorry, Pippin,” Pimpernel said with a harried smile as she approached them and grabbed her daughter’s pointing hand. “I blinked for a second, and she spotted you and got away from me.”

“’Tis all right, Nellie,” Pippin smiled. “I should be glad to see the pretties she wants to show me.” He removed his small niece’s hand from his breeches and held it with his own, clasping Diamond’s palm with the other. Both Pippin and Aster looked expectantly to Pimpernel to lead this train of hobbits to the proper booth.

Pimpernel sighed. “You know, dear brother,” she said over Aster’s head, “she only wants to get her uncle to buy her what her mother’s already said she has no need of.”

“Oh,” Pippin smiled, “since when is the Fair for things you need? ‘Tis for having fun, and playing, and looking at the things you want.”

Pimpernel melted under the hopeful eyes of her daughter and the amused, yet expectant, look of her brother, and led the group back the way she had come. “Oh, all right,” she said to Aster as a smile threatened to come to her lips, “but just one, mind you!”

“Ah,” Pippin said as he crouched by the child before the table of glass beads and other cheap trinkets, “but if you’re to have just one, you’ll have to make the right choice, then, won’t you?”

Aster nodded gravely and examined the table for several minutes, with her uncle’s help, before selecting a long necklace of barrel-shaped clear glass beads alternating with pebbles of a slightly greenish hue. “A very good choice,” Pippin said as he paid the booth attendant, and then slipped the necklace over the child’s head. “And now,” he asked, turning to his wife, who had been examining the table herself during these proceedings, “what pretty does your Aunt Diamond want?”

Diamond gave a start on hearing her name, and then smiled at him, and slowly reached out to pick up a necklace of many colors of glass beads and let it dangle from her fingers. Pippin paid for that as well, and then took it from her grasp and draped it around her neck. Diamond smiled as she looked down and caught the sunlight sparkling off the many colors of glass. She had never been able to choose, as a favorite, just one of the many colors in which she found beauty.

Diamond had thought, for a time, that the many snacks they had purchased from vendors would take the place of all regular meals at the Fair, but it seemed this was not to be the case.

At luncheon time, Captain Peregrin led her to a large pavilion. They stood, first, in a line outside the pavilion where many of the hobbits and hobbitesses they had seen in the hog barn filled their plates with slices of roast pork in a rich sauce and encased between slices of bread, piles of beans, and slices of melon. They then made their way to sit among the other hobbits.

Merry Brandybuck had rejoined them now, with his wife Estella, and she chattered animatedly throughout the luncheon with Captain Peregrin’s sisters Pearl and Pimpernel, while the two Took lasses spent much of the meal deftly grabbing their various children who attempted to scamper by. Pippin, Merry, and Everard laughed heartily with each other and ate with gusto, while Diamond savored both her food and the excitement of the large crowd.

As their party was finishing off the meal, an elderly hobbit stepped to the center of the pavilion and clapped his hands twice, signaling for attention. The murmurings quieted down to a lower level, as he announced:

“As you know -- or at least most of you do, I hope -- I, Will Whitfoot, have announced my intention to tender my resignation as Mayor of the Shire.”

Scattered applause and shouts of “Three cheers for Old Flourdumpling!” met this announcement, and the old hobbit’s cheeks were rather pink by the time the crowd quieted down again.

“We are therefore gathered,” he said with all the dignity he could muster, “as hobbits of the Four Farthings -- West, East, South, and North -- to elect a successor, as is our tradition, at this Overlithe Fair.”

“Wake me when he’s done,” Pippin muttered to Merry, lying back on the grass, next to a sleeping Everard, with his hands folded over his tummy.

Merry nudged him hard with an elbow before his eyes had fully closed. “Pip!” he hissed. “You’re a grown hobbit now and you’ll vote this year. Part of that responsibility is listening to Will ramble on.”

“Oh, all right,” Pippin grumped as he sat upright again. “I suppose I shall have to follow my much elder cousin’s advice. But Sam had better not start to talk like that!” he added darkly.

“Yes, yes, you do that,” Merry responded absently. “Hush, now, I’m trying to listen!”

Pippin and Merry listened to Will, and then to the other candidate’s speech, Merry somewhat more attentively.

Pervinca gave a small, tentative wave back to Pearl’s gesture of greeting as Odo Proudfoot expounded on his themes, and continued to sit among her in-laws.

“...and so it would be an honor to be the Mayor of the Shire, and I remind you that I am proud to belong to the fine family of Proudfeet.”

“Proudfoots,” Merry muttered with a low guffaw among the cheering and clapping that broke out at the end of this speech. “Hey. Wake up, Pip.” He nudged his cousin again.

“I’m awake, Merry,” Pippin said. “Just ‘tisn’t very funny anymore. He looked over to where his youngest sister sat as he absently chewed on a blade of grass.

Sam was up next, and the gardener shifted his feet slightly as he stood at the center of the pavilion to begin his speech. Merry and Pippin were completely attentive now, the tips of their ears pricked forward to catch all his words.

Sam cleared his throat and blinked once, then began, “Well, I reckon I don’t have such a fancy speech as Mr. Proudfoot, there,” he nodded toward the gentlehobbit, “but I can tell you as to why I’d like to be your Mayor.” He clamped his hands behind his back and stood with his feet apart as if he were declaiming a poem.

“I was workin’ for Mr. Frodo Baggins, as was Deputy Mayor a few years back, and got to see a little bit of what the job were like. And I got to thinkin, as I were goin’ around the Shire plantin’ some seeds as what some friends o’ mine give me, that I liked havin’ the chance to see all the different parts of the Shire, and to make sure the plants there was growin’ good, like they ought. I’d like to be Mayor so’s I could go and check on all my plants as they’re in bloom.”

Sam grinned as this caused the crowd to break out into laughter, and then continued on with a fond glance toward where Rosie sat on a small bench in an area surrounded by Cottons and Gamgees.

“’Course, them plants ain’t the only things I’d be lookin’ at around the Shire. Hobbits need help, sometimes, too, to grow and bloom right, and I’d like to watch that as well, and help out where I can. Now that I’ve got my own little lad and lasses,” -- he nodded to Elanor, sitting beside Rosie and swinging her legs over the small bench, while Frodo-lad cuddled under one arm and Rose-lass tried to curl up on what was left of Rosie’s lap on the other side -- “I’ve got even more of a reason to be wantin’ to help the Shire and all the hobbits in it grow right, and get all the things they need, and such prunin’ as is necessary.

“So’s I hope you’ll pick me as your next Mayor, and I’ll try to tend the Shire for you as if it were me own garden.”

He stopped, and there was a second of silence before Pippin leaped to his feet and shouted, “Hear, hear!”

Merry put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, then called out, “Three cheers for Samwise!” and a chorus of hurrahs erupted among the crowd’s applause, led by Thain Paladin.

Sam made his way among the departing hobbits back over to Rosie and mopped his brow with his handkerchief.

“Well, that’s done,” he said bashfully. “Though I s’pose if’n I do get picked as Mayor I’ll have to get used to all the speechifyin’.”

“It was splendid, Sam!” Rosie beamed up at him from where she sat clutching the children. “Gimme a kiss afore you get elected and find yourself too grand for the likes o’ me.”

She puckered up her mouth beneath her flushed red cheeks, and Sam wiped away a bead of sweat trickling along her hairline as he obligingly bent forward, saying, “Now, Rosie, you know that’ll never happen,” before he kissed her.

“Leastwise,” he sighed as he straightened up again, “now we’ve got to wait the whole afternoon to find out if’n I’m elected or not.”

“Oh, I’m sure you shall be, Sam,” Merry said, coming up behind him and clapping him on the back. “May the best hobbit win!”

“Aye,” Estella laughed as she stepped alongside Merry. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine Mayor, Sam!”

“’Course he will,” Pippin added as he escorted Diamond over to the grouping. “And I shan’t have to cast my first ballot for such a pompous old hobbit as Old Flourdumpling!” He made a face that had most of the others laughing, while Diamond smiled shyly and looked on the group of old friends.

“So, are you going to the voting tent now?” Merry asked Sam. “You can come along with us if you’d like.”

“No, Mr. Merry,” Sam said and shifted uncomfortably. “It just don’t feel right puttin’ a vote in for myself, if you follow me, so I think I’ll be sittin’ out the election this year, and keepin’ Rosie company.”

“And also bringin’ me whatever I ask,” laughed the hobbitess. “I’m afeared that all I’m doin’ at the Fair this year is eatin’ and findin’ some good spots o’ shade to sit in.”

“Well, in that case,” grinned the Brandybuck, “we shall certainly have to make sure our ballots count!” He grabbed Pippin’s free arm to lead him toward the voting tent while Diamond accompanied them on the other arm and Estella, who had been jiggling young Rose up and down, returned the lass to her father and followed.d.

At the voting tent, when it came time to be Pippin’s and Merry’s turn, they left their wives standing outside together as they went in. Diamond was suddenly aware of how loud and how large the crowd was without Captain Peregrin by her side, and peered frequently toward the tent flap as she waited for him to reappear. She tried smiling at Mistress Brandybuck, and Estella would occasionally start to address a comment or a question to her, but she kept breaking off the snatches of her comments to engage in conversation with several of the other lasses who passed by.

At length, Pippin and Merry reemerged from the tent, the older hobbit’s hand on the younger one’s shoulder. “So, Pip, how do you think you did with your first election?” asked the Brandybuck.

“Oi, Merry,” Pippin responded, rolling his eyes, “’twasn’t that hard. But I was glad I could vote for Sam. I think all hobbits ought to vote,” he said, waving a hand grandly to encompass the whole crowd, “the lasses, too!”

“Pippin!” Merry said reprovingly, while Diamond gasped.

Pippin’s shoulders slumped a little as he lowered his hand and looked at his wife. He had thought they were getting on well today, and had hoped to impress her with his comment. His sisters would have approved.

“Really, now,” Merry continued chiding, “the very idea of lasses voting!”

“And whyever should they not?” Estella demanded, her arms crossed in front of her.

“Well...They...” Merry frowned and sputtered, then turned to Pippin’s wife. “Diamond, would you want to vote?”

Pippin looked hopefully at her, and Diamond glanced at him as she replied slowly, “Well...perhaps if my husband told me for whom to cast a ballot...”

Merry was thoughtful. “Yes. Yes, that might work,” he said, rubbing his chin in his hand, as Estella spluttered, “Oh!” and stalked off.

“And you’ll follow this lass, if you know what’s good for you, Meriadoc Brandybuck!” she called over her shoulder.

Pippin shrugged and smiled ruefully at Merry, then extended his arm to Diamond, and the three of them followed Estella through the crowd.

She led them into the shadowed confines of a tent which was cool in the heat of the day, and turned back to pull Diamond along with her to view its contents. Pippin and Merry idled along behind them, chatting and laughing about everything and nothing.

Diamond peered intently at the artwork propped against easels within the tent. It was remarkable, the portraits and the landscapes these hobbits could create with such materials. She leaned close to study the likenesses crafted with careful arrangements of dried beans, and sunflower seeds, and kernels of maize that had been glued into the design. And, while she wished to be polite to Mistress Brandybuck, Diamond did wish that the other hobbitess would stop distracting her by calling out, loudly, the name of every seed artist who happened to be a lass.

“Pervinca Proudfoot!” Estella announced as she read an artist’s card, throwing yet another triumphant look over her shoulder at Merry. So far, the lads seemed to have been ignoring her, but this caught Pippin’s attention, and he moved up for a closer look.

“Why, ‘tis the same picture she was working on two Yules ago!” he said as he examined the detailed image formed from seeds and dried grasses of plants in bloom at the Great Smials’ garden in the foreground, with the orchards and the Smials itself, as well as tiny figures who were clearly hobbits engaged in various activities, visible as the perspective reached back. “I wonder why it took her so long to finish.”

Pervinca shifted the babe in her arms as she peered over the heads of the gathered hobbitesses to see the judges’ table. ‘Twas nearly time for Ivy’s next feeding, it was, but if she could just keep the lass from becoming too restless, she might could hear what the judges said of her plum jam.

Her daughter Clover hovered at her side -- took after her mother in height, she did, that one, and would be near as tall as many ten-year-old lasses at her seventh birthday in Halimath -- while two-year-old Harcourt clutched her skirts with one hand and wailed around the fingers of the other he had clamped in his mouth. Bramimond, at four, was a fidgety little hobbit and hopped from foot to foot next to his sister, begging,

“Can we please go now? Go back to the games? Or the ponies? Please, please, can we?”

“Hush!” Pervinca said and then turned her attention back to the judge who had just dipped his spoon in her jam while her head was turned.

“We could go with our cousins,” Bram whined, and tugged on his mother’s skirts at a higher level than Harcourt, using his other hand to point to a cluster of young Proudfeet who stood with their mothers a few yards away.

“Hush!” Clover said this time, and smacked her brother lightly on the back of the head. “You know we aren’t to let anyone but our mother care for us. Our father says,” she raised her nose in the air so her curls hung straight down her back, “that we shall be treated special, as she’s the daughter of the Thain.”

Pervinca sagged a bit as the judges announced their decision. The jam which had been the best of her efforts in last summer’s hot and hard work was put aside. She caught an exchange of superior glances among the Proudfeet hobbitesses, just as both Ivy and Harcourt began to wail.

Ganelon North-Took pushed another hobbit aside with his shoulder as he exited the voting tent. He’d done his duty at the Fair, and cast his ballot for Samwise Gamgee. He hadn’t known either of the candidates before their speeches to the crowd at the pavilion, but Gamgee had been one of the witnesses as his sister wed the Thain’s Heir, so he must be an important hobbit.

Ganelon’s ballot had been weighted to count for his father, their hobbitservant, and one or two others besides, as everyone knew travel was difficult to and from the far reaches of the North Farthing. It had fallen to him to be the voting delegate this year, although Ganelon would have preferred to remain away from the crowds.

“...s’pose we’ll have one o’ our own mixin’ it up with the gentry, then,” came the proud voice.

“Oi, that’s what comes o’ workin’ so close to them Bagginses. Always had some cracked idees, that lot,” the second speaker chuckled.

“Still, never thought I’d live to see the day when a gardener Gamgee looked to be the Mayor of the Shire,” the first, awed, voice spoke again.

“What did you say?” Ganelon asked, grabbing the first hobbit by the shoulder and drawing him around so that the drink sloshed in the mug he held. “Did you say Samwise Gamgee is a gardener? A servant?” he sneered the last word.

“Well, sir, there’s no call for that,” the hobbit said, extricating his arm and not spilling any of his drink. “And I s’pose he ain’t no servant anymore, not after Mr. Frodo Baggins has gone and left him Bag End for his own, but he were Mr. Baggins’s gardener over in Hobbiton, and a fine one, make no mistake!”

Ganelon’s face was cloudy as he stormed away from the hobbits. A gardener! As witness to the match which should elevate his sister to the highest position a hobbitess could reach in the Shire. The match that Ganelon had argued for, hoping that at least a hobbit of North-Took blood would regain the title that should have been theirs. Diamond’s marriage, he felt, should lift the whole family in the eyes of the Shire -- and the Tooks had used it as occasion for such an insult!

He caught a glimpse of his sister emerging from one of the tents on the arm of the Heir, accompanied by another tall hobbit and his hobbitess. The two hobbits threw their heads back and laughed, and then the couples turned to stroll along the fairgrounds.

Ganelon stepped back amongst the shade cast by a booth as they passed near to him, not wishing to be seen. His eyes caught, as he stepped back, a glint of sunlight off the necklace which sparkled around his sister’s neck. “Fine jewels,” he thought to himself, “as befits her station,” but his hand brushed against the booth he stood beside, and he glanced at its contents. An identical necklace looked up at him from among the cheap trinkets. Nothing but colored glass.

Ganelon lifted his eyes again to follow the progress of the Heir. “I will find some little trick to play, myself,” he vowed silently, the very tips of his lips quirking up. “Something fit to relieve my fury at these wrongs.”

Among the crowd, Pippin tilted his head back and pealed out a laugh that was loud and long.

He laughed again as they entered another section of the fairgrounds. “Come on, Merry, games!” he said and would have bolted forward if he had not remembered he was holding Diamond’s arm and should walk more sedately.

“Hullo, Mr. Pippin, Mistress Diamond,” came a cheerful greeting, and Pippin turned to smile at the hobbit, as did Diamond, pleased to see a face she knew, while Merry and Estella walked on ahead.

“I dinna want to disturb you whilst we’re on holiday,” Bert said with a head bob, “only to let you know your pony’s fine and, well, I’m here with my sister, and I thought as how you might remember her if’n you was to see her face.” He blushed but looked fondly at the stout hobbitess standing nearby next to an even stouter hobbit.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” she laughed, “Only I’m happy to know our ‘Bert’s found such a good place. S’pose we all want somethin’ good to come to our brother, or sisters in your case, Mr. Pippin, if I’m not out of my place to say so.”

“No, you are quite in your place to say something that’s true, er...” Pippin smiled and looked at Bert for help.

“It’s Fern, as was Furryfoot when I did my workin’ out at the Great Smials,” she laughed, “and as is now Broadbelly,” she poked her ample stomach, “a name that we all be fittin’!”

Pippin laughed along with her, and bent to kiss her hand in the same manner as Merry had greeted Diamond.

“So, Bert,” he asked, “what game did we interrupt?”

“Well, it’s not rightly a game,” he said, looking at the fur on top of his feet, “ so much as ‘tis a contest that Fern thought I might could win.”

“Aye, he’s been the strongest hobbit I knowed ever since he were a little lad,” Fern boasted, then added, “Sir.”

Diamond’s mouth fell open as she looked beyond the hobbitess to where a barker was calling for hobbits to try their skill at striking a very large mallet in an attempt to raise the wooden block he had placed between two poles high enough to strike the bell at the top. “Oh!” Pippin squealed as he looked at the contraption. “I’ll bet you could win that, Bert! Don’t you think so, Diamond?”

Three sets of eyes were on her as Diamond considered the bellpole, then Bert. She had, herself, seen him moving quite a few heavy objects around the Smials. “Yes,” she smiled at the servant. “Yes, I certainly think you could.”

By the time it was Bert’s turn to compete, a small crowd had gathered around the bellpole, including Merry and Estella, who had returned from their wanderings by this time, and some of the other Smials servants who had happened by.

“One. Two. Three!” he hit the mallet, and a collective groan arose from the onlookers as the wooden block stopped just short of the bell.

“Try again, then, Bert!” Pippin encouraged as the servant started to back disappointedly away.

“I can’t, Mr. Pippin,” he mumbled. “I hain’t got the coin as to spare for another go.”

“’Tis that all?” Pippin snorted, and withdrew a coin from his purse. “And don’t tell me you can’t take it,” he stopped the hobbit from opening his mouth further. “You earn your wages well enough, and ‘tis for the honor of the Smials -- and the hobbit who runs this game besides.” Bert took the coin from Pippin’s outstretched hand as the hobbit at the bellpole slightly eased his foot off the weighted lever nearly hidden at its base.

“One. Two,” Bert grunted again, taking half swings with the mallet before connecting, then, “Three!” The wooden block shot up and struck the bell with a resounding clang.

“Oh!” Diamond grinned and clapped her hands.

“I knowed he could do it!” Fern cried out and bobbed her stout self up and down in place once before lifting her round face to cry out, “Thank’ee kindly, Mr. Pippin!”

“Aye!” Pippin cried out, laughing with her, “for the Great Smials!” and returned the hug she offered.

Bert mopped the sweat from his brow, beaming, and puffed out his chest a little for the kitchen lasses he caught staring and giggling in his direction.

“You play this one, Diamond, too!” Pippin pulled her along to the front of another game booth. “It’s easy!” They had already participated in many of the games the Fair had on offer, and Pippin’s many pockets were bulging with small sacks of goodies. Merry and Estella had left to wander back toward the pavilion for supper, but Pippin wanted one more game.

“See,” he said, reaching around Diamond’s waist from behind to steady her with one arm, while the other guided her hand, “you just throw it gently, like this.”

Diamond felt especially warm where Captain Peregrin’s arm encircled her waist, and where his breath blew hot in her ear as he spoke. The canning jar ring left her fingers and landed over the neck of one of the bottles arranged in the booth.

“Oi, lass!” the hobbit within stated, picking up that bottle and handing it to her, “you’ve won yourself a nice ginger beer, there.”

Diamond took it and stepped back slightly as Captain Peregrin drew his arm back for his own throw. His canning ring landed on the bottle sticking up in the very center of the arrangement.

“And a grand prize winner!” the booth hobbit said. “What’ll it be, sir?”

“Oh,” Pippin grinned, his face flushed with the excitement of the day and his green eyes sparkling. “You choose the prize, Diamond.”

She thought a moment, her fingers to her lips, then smiled and pointed to a small stuffed squirrel.

She carried this beneath her arm, taking sips from her ginger beer with the arm that was linked in Captain Peregrin’s as they walked back toward the pavilion. The ginger beer, like so many other things at the Fair, was a new experience for her, and she thought perhaps its cool, fizzy taste was responsible for the way she felt so oddly giddy.

Ganelon, sitting among the crowd and eating his beef tips, frowned when he saw his sister approach, her hair askew, and sipping what appeared to be an ale straight from the bottle, like a common hobbitess, or a barmaid, even. Did Peregrin Took mean for the North-Tooks to become a laughingstock, with such actions, and--

“--Samwise Gamgee, the new Mayor of the Shire!”

Ganelon dumped his plate on the ground and left amid the cheers.

Sam said a few words of thanks, then turned his attention to his first duties as Mayor.

“I declare you, uh, Pork Mistress of 1427!” he stammered as he placed a floral wreath on the tweenager’s head. He repeated the action for the Beef Mistress, and then both lasses and Mayor blushed prettily as they each presented a cheek for him to kiss.

As the hobbits of Great Smials gathered for the return journey which would take them well into the night, Pad and Eg leaned sleepily against each other in the carriage. Pimpernel sat in one corner of the opposite seat, and Everard lifted Aster in as he and Pippin pulled their ponies alongside.

“Mama bought me a bunch of blue ribbons,” Aster muttered sleepily, clutching onto the prize with one hand while her head settled into her mother’s lap and her feet rested against Diamond’s.

“Aye, to tie up your bonny brown hair,” Pippin whispered softly, and smiled at his wife before pulling the pony away.

Diamond snuggled into her own corner of the carriage and let her eyes close, holding the squirrel in her arms.

Chapter Nine: Facets

The work of the summer increased after the time of the Fair. Diamond barely saw Captain Peregrin, save for at meals, when he hungrily wolfed down whatever was put in front of him, as did near all the other hobbits of the Smials. His body was apparently so weary from the harvesting of oats and cutting of hay that it let his mind rest, as well, for the times he awakened her for a mid-night game of draughts were greatly reduced.

Thain Paladin was working just as hard, and as well, as his son.

Diamond found that there was much to do for hobbitesses at the Smials in the summer, also -- for most, anyway. Pimpernel had gone on extended visits to each of her sisters in turn, taking her daughter along to play with her cousins and offering her own services as Pearl and Pervinca stored the summer’s provender for the coming months.

Diamond, herself, had many more tasks in overseeing the canning and preserving of foods brought to the Smials, and deciding on what size portions they should be stored in so that they could be retrieved in the winter months, and making sure the hobbits who came in from the fields each day were well-fed. No one complained about the size of her meals now -- even though, to her horror, many of the hobbits frequently missed returning to the Smials for elevenses. Still, those who were there, and especially Captain Peregrin, when he made an appearance, ate well.

Diamond had been concerned, of course, about the financial impact of so many fine meals, but another task that had taken her time this summer had been going over such figures with Geranium, and learning to understand the tallies.

Mistress Eglantine, she knew, followed behind and checked her figures, just as the Thain’s wife’s gaze surveyed the plates set before all the hobbits at elevenses. She did not offer further instruction, and Diamond still quailed at the thought of approaching the Mistress of the Smials as she would her mother.

When she was not busy with the kitchen duties, or with overseeing the housekeeping staff, Diamond had found a small garden plot to tend, where she could attempt to coax into life the herbs and flowers with which she was familiar. The tending took quite a bit of time, as she had not begun it until after Forelithe, a rather late start for a garden. It was Mistress Eglantine who had suggested this, at least according to the message Diamond had received through Geranium, and, although she was not sure why her mother-in-law wished her to garden, she was glad of it.

In the hours this summer which Diamond spent in her quarters, she had begun to attempt creating pictures like the seed art she had seen at the Fair. The summer’s fecund materials proved frustrating, though,and she thought perhaps she would have to wait until autumn when dried air meant drier, and more easily handled, seeds.

She also, in her moments of leisure, dutifully read the books Healer Willow had given her. Or, perhaps she should say, “book.” Diamond, while competent in reading as a properly raised hobbitess should be, was not an especially fast reader.

And the story of Holly Grubbfoot was certainly different from the texts she had studied at her parents’ home. She felt certain these books were another thing, such as inn games like draughts, of which they would not have approved.

Yet the Smials’ healer said they would help her, and assist in fulfilling her duty to her husband. Diamond had not yet puzzled this out -- perhaps it would be in a subsequent manual -- but she found she certainly enjoyed Holly’s story, much more than her previous studies. In part, she read slowly to savor it and, when she had at length finished the section where Holly and Cap “melted into each other’s arms as the fire in the forge grew hot,” she turned back to the first page to read again, and make note of any instructions she may have missed.

She did not mention her reading material in the letters she sent to her home.


“So,” Captain Peregrin said over supper one evening in late Wedmath, after a sudden shower had brought him home uncharacteristically early from the fields, “shall we go on a summer holiday soon, then?”

“Holiday?” Diamond echoed, surprised, stilling her hand in the process of scooping cucumbers and cream out of the serving bowl.

“Aye, a holiday,’ Pippin answered, waving the cucumber slice upon his own fork so that droplets of cream fell to the tablecloth. “I suppose you have been quite busy this summer, as have I, but the Smials have managed without me before, and I daresay they will again, and you as well.

“And, well,” he muttered as he leaned his head back toward his plate again and cast a glance toward the letter propped on a tray near the door for the morrow’s post, “I thought perhaps you should like to see your kin.”


Lines of pain creased the corners of Pippin’s eyes as he drove the cart through Oatbarton, but he carefully kept his mouth set in a neutral line, nodding to the hobbits who occasionally emerged from their smials to gawk at him. He could not, however, bring himself to smile.

Now that he was back on the cart, his leg was more of a dull ache rather than the throbbing pain, but it was still making itself felt. He’d thought the conveyance well-sprung, and so it was, for a trip along any other road but this. He had climbed out to peer at the axles more than once, and he and Diamond, to ease the pony’s load, had both spent time walking along the rutted road.

Now, the woods they traveled through had thinned to reveal the town of Oatbarton. A village, really, it would have been in any other part of the Shire, and Pippin wondered at the fortitude of the farmhobbits from the North Farthing’s south reaches who came to this small place to discuss their barley plantings with Gerin North-Took. Or, perhaps it was Diamond’s father, or her brother, who traveled to them -- Pippin didn't really know, as he hadn’t ever asked his wife.

Diamond sat beside him on the cart seat now, her own face as sober as his. She recognized a few of the hobbits about, though, of course, her own tasks and seclusion of the past seven years meant that she did not know any of them well. How small, and quiet, her town seemed in comparison to the crowds and bustle of Great Smials! Still, these were her people. It was they who had chosen to bestow upon her the honor of being wed to Captain Peregrin, and she aimed to show the dignity that would make them proud.

As the road neared the edge of town, Pippin glanced inquiringly, one eyebrow raised, at his wife. Diamond slightly inclined her head to the right, and Pippin then caught a glimpse of the estate, a quarter mile away, its south-facing front shadowed and cooled by the trees that emerged from the woods around it.

A servant came to meet them at the pony’s head as Pippin drove the cart down the tree-lined lane, the land dipping toward the stone facade of the smial built into the slight rise behind it.

“Welcome to North-Took Tunnelings,” he said as he held the pony’s bridle after Pippin had pulled on the reins to stop the cart. The servant held himself erect and looked not at Pippin, but at a distant spot down the lane as he said solemnly, “The family of North-Took is honored to welcome you, sir.”

“Well, that’s good, as I’m honored to be here,’ Pippin said, forcing a strained smile onto his face despite the pain in his leg. “Would you mind terribly putting the pony and cart up for us? ‘Tis a long drive.”

The servant kept to himself his surprise at being asked to perform his required duty in such a manner and replied only, “Of course, sir.” He stood still and straight by the pony’s head as Pippin clambered off the cart and turned to help Diamond down.

“Hello, Joz,” she said with a small smile as they walked past the servant on their way to the smial. “It is good to see you again.”

It was only after the Heir and his Mistress had entered the smial’s main door that Joz glanced toward where their backs had disappeared. Offering friendly greetings to their servants was something the North-Tooks, until just now, did not do.

The North-Took family itself had arrayed themselves in a line within the entry corridor to bid welcome.

“Sir,” Gerin said, puffing his chest out and sparing but the briefest flicker of his pride-filled eyes to his daughter as she stood within his home on the arm of the Thain’s Heir, “I hope our servant has bid you welcome. It is my honor to do so again, on behalf of both my family, and the North Farthing. Gerin North-Took, at your service,” he said, taking a bow. His wife and younger daughter curtsied along with him, lowering their heads to look upon the floor, but Ganelon, while he bowed, kept his eyes fixed upon Pippin and Diamond.

“And your family’s,” Pippin replied, inclining his head in return as, next to him, Diamond did the same.If this had been any other hobbit hole he’d visited, he would have expected the formalities to have ended there, and Diamond and her family members to rush into hugs. But, although the lass and her parents smiled at each other, his wife continued to stand by his side, her arm locked in his. Pippin said nothing; truth be told, he was finding her handy to lean upon in support, again, and he was well aware of the political importance his visit to this smial carried.

Gerin turned to nod to each of his family members in turn. “My wife, Mistress Honeysuckle North-Took, I believe you have met,” he said, and that hobbitess curtsied again. “This next is my son, Ganelon North-Took.”

Ganelon, although his eyes rested only at Pippin’s chin, was a head taller than his father and, rather than that hobbit’s round tummy, had still the hard leanness of youth. He reached forward a hand and Pippin, adjusting his grip on Diamond’s arm, reached back to receive a particularly hard clasp that felt almost like a challenge.

“And this last is our young lass, Jewel,” Gerin said, and the tween’s light brown curls bobbed as she offered a simpering smile and performed another curtsy.

“Diamond, Nettle has prepared your old room, if you would like to freshen up before supper,” Gerin said, still beaming, and Diamond responded,

“Yes, thank you, Father,” and led Pippin through the corridors.

Supper, despite the presence of the entire family, rather than merely the two hobbits at the regular meals in Pippin’s and Diamond’s quarters at the Smials, was a rather subdued affair. Gerin offered occasional comments -- or suggestions, more like -- on the food, but Pippin seemed expected to take the lead in any conversation and, feeling tired, achy, and out of place, he was not at his best. Ganelon bumped his hand once as he pushed forward a platter of bread, but the hobbitesses all bent their faces attentively to their plates, and no one acted as if anything was amiss.

Pippin found that, after supper, at least it was easy to be quietly companionable while sharing a smoke in the parlor with the North-Took hobbits. The lasses sat in another area of the room, and at least they were quietly conversing now, though the direction of the air currents in the room made it difficult for him to hear what was said. Jewel did giggle once and start to rise, but as Pippin glanced over, a look from Honeysuckle quelled her.

He tamped out his pipe, raised his arms above his head and stretched, making a show of exhaustion, and said as he raised himself from his chair, “I’m afraid the journey was more than I am used to. I think I shall retire early this evening, and leave you all to it.” He smiled encouragingly at Diamond. “Perhaps if you could just direct me to the bathing room?”

“Certainly, husband,” Diamond said, and rose to follow him.

Pippin did hear, this time, her mother say to her, “You shall find all that’s needed to draw a bath in the same place, my dear.”

His face fell. “Oh, no. I -- I didn’t mean -- you don’t have to,” he stumbled as the whole family turned their faces upon him. “Well, that is, couldn’t one of the servants do it?” he finished. The main reason he had purposed leaving was so that Diamond could have some time alone to visit with her parents, as he suspected that it was his presence that was causing things to be uncomfortable.

“Joz has already taken himself off for the evening,” Ganelon said curtly. “He has a small house of his own near the stables.”

“We could call him back, if you would like, sir,” Gerin offered helpfully.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Pippin said hastily from where he now stood awkwardly in the doorway. He felt, somehow, that stating before these hobbits that he could draw his own bath would not be a good idea. “What about -- what’s her name -- Nettie?”

He was met with stony silence, a disappointed look passing quickly over Gerin’s face and a disapproving glare settling on Ganelon’s. Honeysuckle’s features held a knowing sadness.

“I do not believe,” Diamond said calmly, and held out her arm, “that Nettle would be an appropriate choice.”

Pippin took the arm, his eartips flushed red, and allowed Diamond to lead him to the bathing room.

He stood morosely, hands in his breeches pockets, against the wall as he watched Diamond fill the basin with the newly heated water. “I can do that myself, you know,” he had told her as they entered the room. “I do at the Smials.”

“Do you, husband?” Diamond questioned lightly. “I had thought there were servants who had tasks that earned their wages.”

“Well, all right,” Pippin drawled. “But I did at Crickhollow!”

Diamond lifted questioning eyes as she continued to kneel and pour a bucket into the basin.

“Never mind,” Pippin shook his head. “The point is, you shouldn’t have to do this. I had thought you’d like to go back to the parlor and talk to your parents some more.”

“Ah, but they will ask if I have performed my duty,” Diamond said, swishing her hand through the water in the basin to check the temperature. She rose, satisfied, shook off her hand and returned the bucket to the hearth as she said, “and I shouldn’t like to disappoint them, or to tell an untruth.”

“Diamond,” Pippin said, catching at her hand as she made to walk past him through the doorway. “I’m sorry I bollixed things up for you in front of your family.” His ears turned pink again as he continued, “With -- with what I said about the maid drawing my bath.”

Diamond stood still a moment, her hand in his, before she withdrew it and said with a bright, albeit effortful, smile, “’Tis all right, husband. You were not to have known she was an unmarried lass.”

After her departure, Pippin muttered to himself, “Bloody well could have guessed,” and then kicked the side of the basin in frustration before yelping, “Ouch!”


Pippin was the first to awake the next morning. He turned his head to the pillow next to him and saw that the sun casting its dapples through the branches outside the east window was casting a play of shadows and light upon Diamond’s dark curls. The bed chamber of the quarters he occupied as the Smials’ Heir, unlike the one his parents had housed him in as a lad, had no window, and he had not seen this view before.

He reached out slowly to finger one curl, near the ends of her long hair, which lay in a pool of light. He was careful, as he felt its softness, not to pull and thus jar her awake.

He wondered, as his gaze traveled to another dimple of sunshine, this one on the nightdress that rose and fell evenly above the sheet tucked about her waist, what it would be like to see the bosom beneath.

He supposed he had seen them before -- after all, he had been a babe, once, and nursed no doubt by his mother -- but, thankfully, he didn’t remember that, and, really, it wasn’t the same thing at all! And then there had been the time before the Quest when he had walked into a room at Brandy Hall and surprised -- yes, that was definitely the right word -- Merry and Angelica Baggins in a rather interesting activity. But that room had been shadowed, and the view of the lass’s gaping bodice merely a profile before Merry shouted angrily and Pip made a hasty retreat.

And then, after the Quest...well, after the Quest he had commitments. To honor the betrothal he had made to this lass lying next to him; and ‘twouldn’t have been fair to the other lasses, either.

Still, he was curious, but he had waited this long, he supposed he could wait some more. He would not force himself upon an unwilling hobbitess. And Nellie and Everard’s child was not born until three years after their marriage; perhaps they had not -- no! no! To think of one’s sister in such a way was near as bad as one’s mother -- especially since he knew that, if he asked, Everard would tell him all in full, blunt detail.

Diamond stirred and blinked awake, and Pippin quietly withdrew his hand from her curls.

“Good morning, husband,” she said as her gray eyes took in him looking at her, “what do you wish to do this day?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, lying back against his pillow after propping himself on an elbow for so long. “Do you know what your brother’s plans are?”

“I am not certain,” Diamond answered, her gaze flicking to the window. “He had said it was possible he might go fishing.”

“Really?” Pippin asked eagerly, and sat up again. “Do you think he might take me with him?”

“I am sure he would be honored, husband,” Diamond said.

“Yes,” Pippin answered soberly. “Well, anyway -- how old is your brother, Diamond?” he asked, turning to gaze full upon her face.

“He is forty-one, husband,” she answered. “And my sister is twenty-two,” she anticipated the next question. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I suppose,” Pippin said with a shrug. “Will you and your mother and sister talk of lass things, then, if I go off fishing? I hope you had a good visit last night.”

“Yes, husband,” Diamond said with a smile. “Thank you.”

The maid handed Ganelon a covered basket of food as they made ready to depart on their fishing trip, and Pippin smiled in her direction and said, “Thank you, Nettie.”

Nettle smiled back and curtsied. The North-Tooks were agreeable enough to work for, for the most part, but she had not been called Nettie in four years, save on visits home.

Ganelon grunted, “Yes, thank you, lass,” as he swung the basket over one arm, a fishing pole propped on the other shoulder.

“So,” Pippin said as they stood, their feet immersed in the cool, clear stream in the woods while their lines trailed in the water, “what do they call you, then? Ganny? Lonnie?”

Ganelon raised his empty line and made a show of recasting it gracefully. “My name is Ganelon,” he responded soberly. “Nicknames, if used at all, are for the servant class.”

Pippin cast a sidelong glance of his green eyes toward his brother-in-law, but said nothing and returned his gaze to the stream.

They fished for a time in silence, until Ganelon broke it with the abrupt question, “So, do you like them?”

“What?” Pippin answered, furling his brow in confusion as he looked up again from his rod.

“Servants,” Ganelon answered matter-of-factly. “Our servants. Your servants. Servants as a whole.”

“Well...yes, in general. Of course,” Pippin answered slowly. Not wanting to offend the North Farthing, he added, “Everyone here has been most welcoming.”

Ganelon let out a small noise that might have been a snort but, as the other hobbit’s face was bent toward the stream, Pippin couldn’t be sure.

“So, do you prefer their company to that of my sister?” Ganelon asked in a low and steady tone.

“What?” Pippin asked again, then his mouth set firmly, his ears flushed red, and he began, “Now, see here--”

“We raised her to be a lady, you know,” Ganelon said, turning his face toward Pippin.

It was the first time anyone from the North-Took household had looked him directly in the eyes. For some reason, Pippin did not find it much of an improvement. He bit back the retort that rose to his mind -- “Well, they should have reared you as a gentlehobbit!” -- and said instead, in a voice as hard as steel, “I have honored, and I shall continue to honor, the vows I have made to the Shire. And to your sister. She is my wife.”

“Yes. Yes, she is,” Ganelon said calmly, his attention turned back to his fishing now. “And a fine Mistress of the Great Smials she will make someday. Perhaps,” he added casually, raising his pole a bit to check his line, “she should even be The Took, in time, if she did not wish to pass it on to your Heir just yet.”

Pippin set his mouth in a grim line and returned his attention to his own fishing pole, but kept his senses on alert. He quietly flexed the bad foot in the mud beneath the water. He had a feeling it would not be wise to show weakness in front of this hobbit.

As Ganelon and Pippin had prepared to depart for fishing that morning, Gerin also had made ready for a visit to his shop in Oatbarton.

“Is there anything you need me to bring you, wife?” he asked Honeysuckle as all the hobbits milled around the kitchen.

“Yes, husband,” the gray-curled hobbitess said, hitching herself over to Gerin’s side. “I have made you a list.” She pressed the paper into his palm, and their hands squeezed together in an old habit as they looked fondly into each other’s eyes.

“And you, Diamond?” Gerin asked, turning away from his wife. “May I bring you some things as well?”

“Aye,” she responded absently, watching as Pippin and Ganelon went out the door.

“Yes?” Gerin prompted in the silence that fell after they left. “You what, lass?”

“I--,” Diamond blushed. “Yes, Father, I do have a list.”

Gerin left, finally, and Honeysuckle sent her younger daughter off to her studies and the maid to tend to duties in the far end of the smial. She sat down at the kitchen table across from Diamond, and reached out to clasp her daughter’s hands in her own.

“So, my lass,” she began, then cleared her throat. “Are you well?”

“Yes, Mother, I am,” Diamond said with a radiant smile and withdrew one hand to pat her mother’s.

“So, the Great Smials is as fine as we had hoped?” Honeysuckle asked.

“Oh, yes, Mother!” Diamond said again, beaming. “It is all that and more!” She was thinking of the numerous servants, and the many hobbits they attended, filling the Great Smials with a bustle and a grandeur which was in such contrast to North-Took Tunnelings. Here, the cooled holes behind the shady trees had many empty rooms, and some corridors a hobbit had no reason to walk down.

“So,” Honeysuckle said and shifted uncomfortably in her chair, pulling her hand out from beneath Diamond’s to rest it on her lap. “Are you -- are you yet with child?” She asked this in nearly a whisper, her eyes dropping to the hand in her lap, and then caught her lip between her teeth.

“No,” Diamond answered quietly, her own gaze dropping to their linked hands. “No, I am not.”

“It’s your duty, lass,” Honeysuckle said, and her grip tightened again on her daughter’s hand, but she looked away. “No matter how unpleasant it may be.”

“Yes, Mother, I know,” Diamond answered, her own head bent toward the table. For she had always expected, despite the hopes she held that this, like so many other things, would be different at the Great Smials, that the duty of producing an Heir would be an unpleasant one.

Her mother had spoken of it only in such terms. Her occasional references were to the day when twenty-year-old Diamond had asked about the activity of two of the cats that prowled the estate for rodents.

“Mother?” Diamond had asked as she alit from the carriage upon their return from Oatbarton. “What is wrong with the cats? Why are they fighting?”

Two of the gray-striped felines were entangled with each other by the side of the drive. It was hard to distinguish the fur of one from that of the other as they yowled, and when Diamond took steps to approach them, they hissed and spat at her more fiercely than ever before.

“They are not fighting,” Honeysuckle had said wearily as she lifted Jewel down and then put a hand to her hip. “It is another unpleasant business: that of making babes.”

Now, in the kitchen, Diamond informed her mother, “I have asked for assistance from the healer at the Smials.”

Honeysuckle nodded, once. “Yes,” she said. “That’s good. And has he given you anything to help?”

“Well--,” Diamond hesitated, as she did not feel she should tell her mother of the books. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Yes, she has given me some things.”

“Oh,” said Honeysuckle, drawing her hand up to tuck a curl behind her ear. If, on its way, the thumb brushed against the corner of her eye, it was on the far side from Diamond, and the lass was meant not to notice. “A female healer. I suppose that’s a good thing, then.” Her gaze stared wistfully across the kitchen a moment, and then she pasted a bright smile back on her face, turned to her daughter, and said,

“Well. Why don’t you tell me all about the food, and the parties at the Smials, and how it is to be the young Heir’s wife?”


During this visit to the North Farthing, Pippin accompanied Gerin, Ganelon, and Diamond into the town of Oatbarton. Diamond stayed behind at her father’s shop, where she had spent many days in earlier years, while the hobbits visited the inn.

Most of those who lived within a reasonable distance had contrived to be in Oatbarton this day, so the Bramble Bush contained many more hobbits than it usually saw. The low murmurings and the sidelong glances at Pippin’s party ceased in their wake as Gerin led his son and son-in-law to the bar.

“Mr. North-Took,” the innkeeper said, and bowed before Gerin, the glass he was in the midst of wiping off clasped before him. Many of the other hobbits inclined their heads respectfully as well.

“It is good to see you this day, Herman,” Gerin answered the innkeep, beaming. “You know my son, of course.” He nodded at Ganelon, and Herman tipped his head again. “And I am pleased to introduce the husband of my daughter, as well: Captain Peregrin Took, son of Thain Paladin.”

Gerin turned his smile toward Pippin, and all the hobbits in the room stopped pretending to feast their eyes as well as their bellies upon their food and drink, and stared at him in frank appraisal. The only sound for a long moment came from the ale a serving lass was in the midst of pouring, while Pippin held himself rigid and still and looked back into the sea of eyes fixed upon him.

Gerin, realizing belatedly that the North Farthing hobbits would not bow without a signal from him, hastened to motion them to do so.

Pippin, however, held up a hand to forestall him and quirked up the corners of his mouth in amusement, then put one bent arm before him and the other behind and, instead, bowed himself to the assembled room.

“I am pleased to make the acquaintance of the hobbits of this Farthing,” he said as he straightened, and now several of the heads in the room did lower themselves before him. “And I am sure such fine hobbits deserve a round of what I know is some of the Shire’s finest ale.”

Among the confusion as Herman and his serving lass scurried to fill and deliver the mugs for the round the Heir was buying, some hobbits in the crowd discussed things amongst themselves.

“It’s been a long time, that those two clans have been cleaved apart.”

“Well, I say it was a good idea to cleave ‘em back together, so long as he’s buyin’.”

Gerin excused himself after a time to return to the shop, for the day’s many visitors to Oatbarton meant the chance for increased business as well. Pippin lingered at the inn long enough for the other hobbits to observe him eat, and enjoy, a fillet of their particular freshwater fish, and a blueberry custard, and a serving of barley with caramelized mushrooms and onions, as well as the requisite ale.

He, too, excused himself before Ganelon, and wandered to Gerin’s shop.

The door stood open, so no bell jangled as Pippin stepped inside to stand hidden behind the shelves packed high with goods. Business, at the moment, was at a lull, and Gerin stood behind the counter speaking to Diamond.

“So, what would my precious jewel like from the stores of the store?” he asked jovially.

Diamond giggled. “Father!” she protested gently. “You have another Jewel now.”

“Oh. Yes, yes, so I do,” Gerin answered and turned aside to dust along the top of the counter. “But she was a long time in coming,” he said quietly and sadly to the woodwork, then turned back to smile at his eldest daughter once more, “and, anyway, you were my first precious lass.”

Then his face fell again and he looked uncertain, his silver-streaked curls shifting in place as he leaned his weight from one foot to the other. “Though I suppose you are my lass no longer, but Captain Peregrin’s,” he said.

Diamond’s face flushed, and her eyes lowered, and she did not answer.

“I am so proud of you, Diamond,” Gerin said solemnly. “to be a Mistress of the Great Smials, and wed to the Heir, was more than I had ever dared hope for my daughter.”

“Yes, Father,” Diamond whispered back, her gray eyes now wide and fixed upon her father’s face.

The two of them came together in a hug and, as Gerin withdrew, he caught sight of the sweets barrel behind Diamond.

“Ha!” he laughed, while blinking away tears. “Do you remember when you were a little lass, and used to perch upon that barrel until I gave you some of the sweets within it?”

Diamond laughed clearly as well and answered with a smile, “Yes, Father.”

“Do you suppose -- that is, would your husband mind if -- ?” Gerin tried to ask, his eyes flicking once more to the barrel.

“He--,” Diamond thought, then continued, “he has not said he would forbid it.” She smiled and held her hands out to her father, who lifted her carefully about the waist and set her on the half-lid which covered a portion of the top of the barrel.

“It -- it is rather smaller than I remembered,” Diamond said as she squirmed, then, “Oh!” she cried out as she tipped backward and fell into the open half.

“Lass!” Gerin cried, while from his vantage point, Pippin ducked farther behind the shelves and covered his laughs with his hand. Composing himself, he strode forward to where a flustered Gerin was trying to extricate his daughter.

“Sir! C--,” Gerin began, looking helplessly from Pippin to Diamond, whose own face grew even redder than it had been from the exertions of kicking against her petticoats.

Pippin merely nodded to Gerin, his lips pressed hard together but a twinkle in his eye, and silently lifted his wife out of the barrel to stand her upon her feet.

He scooped out a handful of the paper-wrapped molasses taffies the barrel contained, and placed them upon the counter. “It seems,” he said, “that my wife shall go to great lengths for these.”


Diamond awakened in the night to find Captain Peregrin’s place beside her empty. She sat up, and caught sight of him perched on the windowsill of her childhood room, one knee drawn up under his nightshirt, the other leg dangling down, and the stars and the moonlight filtering through the branches to shine upon him.

“Husband?” she called softly. “Is aught amiss?”

Pippin slowly turned his head toward her and shrugged. “’Tis naught but the old trouble,” he said. “You may sleep this night if you wish.”

Diamond rose from the bed and pulled on her dressing gown to join him at the window. She ran her eyes over the scattered contents that remained on the bookshelf below it.

“I am sorry we do not have a game of draughts in this smial,” she said.

“’Tis no matter,” Pippin said, and shrugged again. “I was looking -- looking at some of your things,” he said, and reached into the top shelf to withdraw a worn paper marked in squares, with designs of flowers traced upon it. “What’s this, then?” he asked, holding it out to Diamond.

“Oh,” she answered, smiling softly as she traced her finger across the edge of the paper opposite to the one Pippin held, “it is a pattern for stitching.”

“Did you create it, then?” Pippin asked, still holding the paper and looking upon his wife’s face.

“Yes, husband,” she answered, staring still at the pattern.

“So, do you do that sort of thing -- create the patterns yourself?” Pippin asked.

“I had once thought I might,” Diamond answered, then lifted her gaze away to stare out the window. “When I was a younger lass, and had time to think on such things.”


When it came time to depart, Gerin and Honeysuckle did hug their daughter goodbye, and Gerin shook Pippin’s hand before the family bowed and he said,

“Be well, Captain Peregrin, Mistress Diamond.”

“Remember,” Ganelon added, his eyes carefully fixed upon neither face, “a mighty family stands behind you.”


Diamond stood before the door to the Thain’s quarters, not long after their return to the Smials. She held her sewing basket clutched in her hand.

“Do you think you could stitch me a new pair of braces?” Captain Peregrin had asked. “I should like them after this pattern, if you don’t mind,” he added, and produced from a pocket the paper he’d found in Diamond’s room in the North Farthing.

“Perhaps,” he’d continued deliberately, “you should sit with my mother as you stitch them.” He grinned. “Ask her to tell you stories of her lad.”

Chapter Ten: “Clarity”

Diamond emerged from the Thain’s quarters, clutching her sewing basket in her hand. The braces were near to done, and the stories her husband had told her to ask his mother for had proved both entertaining and enlightening.

“...so Pad had hold of one of his braces, and I had the other one, and we were both trying to keep from laughing while Pippin dangled over the table between us.

“He’d spilled his milk by kicking it when we made our grabs to keep him from falling after he stood up in his chair. And Pervinca was still upset about spilling her food onto the cloth as well, even though Pippin hadn’t actually managed to get any of it when he lunged.

“Pad got hold of himself first, and he took the lad in hand whilst I took the lass. I don’t remember what Pad said, but Pippin was loud enough that I clearly heard him answer, ‘Well, if she’s going to call me a piglet, then I should get her slops!’”

Diamond smiled softly and shook her head as she moved down the corridor. As much as she could not imagine anyone now daring to call her noble husband such names, she felt that learning of his childhood was helping her to better know and understand him.

Healer Willow, her errand in another room complete, nodded approvingly at the young Mistress as she turned the far corner. Perhaps ‘twas time...


The old healer poked her head in the office of the Thain’s Heir after receiving a “Come in!” in response to her soft knock.

“Yes?” Pippin asked, looking up from the papers strewn on his desk. His curls were disarranged in every direction, as if he had been running his hands through them.

“’Tis Healer Willow, sir,” she said in response to his puzzlement. “I wonder if I might have a word with you?”

“Oh, aye, I suppose, though I don’t believe I am ill.” Pippin chuckled as he feigned taking his own temperature by putting a hand to his brow.

“Unless,” he suddenly sobered, and put his hands flat upon the desk before glancing at the wall which bordered both his father’s study and his own, “you have come to speak of...” He trailed off, leaving Willow to finish as she settled her old bones into the chair before his desk.

“I am the lasses’ healer,” Willow said, though she took note of the direction of the Heir’s look, and filed it away among her confidences to keep. “’Tis about your wife.”

“My wife?” Pippin echoed, stunned. “Is -- is Diamond not well?” he asked worriedly, scrunching a paper beneath his palm.

“She -- has asked me for assistance,” Willow answered, treading carefully with her words. “I am sorry, sir,” she said with sincerity, “but you know I canna speak of what she spoke.”

“Aye,” Pippin agreed readily, the furrow between his brows becoming more pronounced as his confusion grew. “But then what is it you wish of me? Should I speak to her mysel’?” he asked, and began rising from his chair.

“Nay, sir.” Willow stayed him with both a word and a hand stretched before her. “Nay, that dinna be necessary. ‘Tis something you could do to help her, though.”

“And what’s that, then?” Pippin asked, relaxing slightly.

“I ha’e noticed some improvement in -- her problem -- since the two of you returned from the North Farthing,” Willow said. “I should think another trip about the Shire would do some good as well.”

“Oh,” Pippin said dully. “So you think she should return to her parents’, then?” As much as he did not wish to return to Oatbarton so soon, he found himself surprised to discover that he would miss Diamond if he sent her off.

“Nay, sir.” Willow smiled inwardly as she caught the disappointment. “I dinna say that was the case. I think, perhaps--,” she brought an age-spotted hand before her face to clear her throat.

“Aye?” Pippin asked, now leaning slightly forward.

“--perhaps, ‘twould work just as well for her to see some parts of the Shire she hasna seen. I believe you ha’e some friends in other parts?”

“Hmm,” said Pippin, now leaning back. “There is a matter of business I could attend in Buckland for Da,” he said as if to himself. “He doesna feel he should travel just now...”

Willow allowed herself another inward smile as the Heir broke off into his own thoughts.


No matter how much laughter and noise the jollity of the Gamgees and their little ones filled Bag End with, Pippin always felt there was an undercurrent of silence -- a noise that was missing. It had been six years since he’d heard Frodo’s voice.

The present Master of Bag End stood behind him now, beaming proudly as Pippin crouched by the cradle to examine the new Merry-lad.

“’Tis a fine babe, Sam,” Pippin remarked with unusual solemnity.

“Don’t you worry none, Mr. Pippin,” Sam chortled above his shoulder. “I’m sure there’ll be a Pippin-lad come along afore too long.”

“No, there won’t!” Pippin responded in a low but bitter tone.

Sam’s mouth hung open in shock.

Pippin stared at the babe a long moment more and then turned his head. Catching sight of Sam’s expression, he flushed and then stuttered. “Oh! I -- I’m sorry, Sam. O’ course, you should know o’ your own babes.” He pasted a smile on his face and rose, pushing past the Mayor. “’Scuse me, Sam,” Pippin said. “I just need to get some air a minute.”

He left behind in his wake a bewildered Sam, who leaned over the cradle to tell the happy infant, “Well, there’s somethin’ amiss there, and that’s a fact.”


Diamond watched Mistress Rose’s hands fly deftly about the kitchen as she prepared a meal, her feet expertly skirting the small hobbits who played upon the floor. She had been surprised to learn that the Mayor and his wife had no servants save for the assistance of the Mayor’s sister May. It seemed she had been staying at Bag End for a time after the birth of the newest babe, but had recently returned to her own smial in Bywater. She still made regular trips to Bag End, though, “to help with what needs doin’,” according to Mistress Rose.

“’Course, I doubt she’ll be comin’ by whiles the two of you are a-visitin’,” Rose laughed as she placed a few apples and a paring knife in front of Diamond, “as I’ll have all the extra hands I’ll need.”

Diamond watched, bemused, for a moment as Mistress Rose turned back to the counter and began to tear a large cabbage into smaller chunks, then picked up the knife and began to peel and slice the apples. Except, upon occasion, for Captain Peregrin, she had not been treated with such familiarity since she left home in the spring. It felt -- comfortable.

In fact, despite the lack of servants or any obvious trappings of wealth, like the mannerisms Diamond’s own family clung to, or the decor and fine clothes that bedecked the Great Smials, the Gamgees and their hole seemed quite pleasant. Cheerful. Happy.

Perhaps, Diamond thought as her knife stilled and the ribbon-length of apple skin she had unpeeled curled slowly toward a pan beneath her hands, these wonderfully plump, laughing children were the cause of that happiness. Or, perhaps, they were its effect.

Rose was still tearing cabbage into a bowl, mixing it about with a dressing of vinegar, sugar, salt and cream. The older two children played a pretend game of their own in a corner of the kitchen, but the younger lass was clutching onto one of her mother’s legs. Her fingers were in her mouth and her eyes were wide as she stared at the strange hobbitess sitting at the table. Diamond could see the movements of Rose’s limb beneath her skirts as she gently swayed it back and forth while crooning a nonsensical song.

“Lavender’s green, Diddle diddle,
Lavender’s blue.
You must love me, Diddle diddle,
‘cause I love you.
I heard one say, Diddle diddle,
since I came hither,
That you and I, Diddle diddle,
must lie togither.

Call up your maids, Diddle diddle,
set them to work,
Some to make hay, Diddle diddle,
some to the rock.

Some to make hay, Diddle diddle,
some to the corn.
Whilst you and I, Diddle diddle,
keep the bed warm.

Let the birds sing, Diddle, diddle,
and the lambs play,
We shall be safe, Diddle, diddle,
out of harm’s way.”*

At the song’s conclusion, Rose bent down to hand her daughter a hard crust of bread to gnaw upon and shooed the little lass toward her brother and sister.

“Mistress Diamond?” she asked quizzically. “Are you feelin’ all right?”

“Oh. Yes, I am fine, thank you, Mistress Rose,” Diamond said, regaining her composure. “That was a lovely song,” she added, her eyes following the path of the toddler across the kitchen.

“Why, thank you, yourself, then,” Rose said as she began chopping finely the carrots that lay next to her bowl. “And it’s just Rose, is fine.”

Diamond turned her own attention back to the apple and moved the knife a bit more as she asked softly, “Rose. I wonder if I could ask you a question?”

Rose caught something in the voice and stilled her chopping a moment but did not turn back around. “Of course,” she said as gently and kindly as she was able.

“You have such lovely children,” Diamond commented. “Would you have any advice -- Captain Peregrin and I -- that is, we --”

She was interrupted by Pippin hustling through the doorway, his eyes coming to light on a bowl of string beans, which he grabbed.

“Hullo, Rose. Diamond,” he said. “I’ll just go and snap these in the garden for you then, shall I?” he said and made to go out the door with the bowl.

“Husband, you needn’t--” Diamond began, starting to rise from her chair.

Pippin shrugged her off. “’Twill give me aught to do with my hands,” he said agitatedly as he left the smial.

Rose chopped the last of the carrots with quick and heavy strokes of the knife, throwing them in on top of her cabbage. She then turned toward the table to collect Diamond’s apple slices.

“Well, in answer to your question you asked,” she said with kind exasperation, “you could start by calling him ‘Pippin’ as near to everyone else does!”

Diamond looked at her dumbly, and Rose snatched the last apple from her hand just as the final bit of peel gave way and the ribbon of skin fell into the pan of water with a plop. Both hobbitesses glanced down to watch it uncurl into its final shape.

The kitchen the next morning was again crowded with hobbits and with laughter. Diamond’s husband had gone to join the Gamgees there while she dressed.

As she approached the doorway, he was standing and leaning against the wall that ran perpendicular to it, absently rubbing the heel of a foot against a slight indentation in the plastering. His strange mood of the evening before seemed to have passed, and he was laughing as Mistress Rose and Mayor Sam recited another ditty:

“Young Sir Pippin he built a fine hall,
Pie-crust and pastry-crust, that was the wall;
The windows were made of black pudding and white,
And slated with griddle-cakes, you ne’er saw the like.”**

“’Tis a fine menu, Sam!” Pippin called out as he laughed. “Shall we have all that this morning, Rose?”

She airily waved a batter-covered spoon at him as Pippin caught sight of Diamond in the doorway.

“It sounds a fine menu indeed,” she smiled at him. “Pippin.”

Her husband’s face grew even brighter.


Laughter could be heard at this meal as well, softly echoing through the Brandy Hall dining room above the clink of forks and spoons against the plates. The Tooks’ travels had taken them on to Buckland, and after leaving their things at the Crickhollow smial, they had journeyed on to the Hall.

They would return to Crickhollow for the night, to the room where Diamond had been surprised to see an oddly bulging pouch upon the bed as they entered. Her husband had lifted an eyebrow as well as he carried in the bags and Mistress Estella informed him with mock severity, her arms akimbo,

“Strewn about indeed, Pippin! You should see some of the things I found in corners after you’d gone. Why, there were even some marbles that rolled out of the closet and near tripped me when I swept up after you last Astron.”

“Ah, but Estella,” Pippin had grinned cheekily as he set the bags down and sat on the bed next to the pouch, picking it up to wave at his cousin’s wife, “you know you’d been waiting for years to poke about and see what I had hid in this room.”

This was the first Diamond had learned that her husband’s return to the Great Smials had been so recent. She had surmised, from hints dropped in conversation, that he had once lived in Buckland, but had assumed it was years ago. She had kept her surprise to herself, though, and maintained her composure as she accompanied Captain Peregrin to the Hall, taking her leave when he began to discuss with Master Saradoc and Captain Meriadoc the reports of Buckland’s harvests, and the preparations for the winter.

Diamond had accompanied Estella on a walk through the grounds at this time. The other hobbitess prattled cheerily on about Brandy Hall and its occupants, stopping occasionally in this discourse to answer a soft question Diamond might pose about one of the plants or flowers. Many were different from those at the Great Smials, or in the lush gardens of Bag End, and Diamond was fascinated once again to see such new things to her experience.

Estella’s answers could be detailed on the plants that were of use for food, or imparting a pleasant smell to a smial, but she was less knowledgeable of their other properties. Still, when it was time to return for supper, she reached for Diamond’s palm and swung their hands between them as they walked.

Mistress Estella was now seated the other side of Captain Peregrin from the seat Diamond held at the head table, and alternated her attention between contributing to their discussion and leaning forward or back around Captain Peregrin to address Diamond. Various other conversations went on around them.

A young servant lass -- not one of the dining room’s servers -- suddenly appeared before the head table, thrusting a piece of parchment out before her.

“Here you go, sir,” she said with a grin to Pippin, and Diamond frowned slightly to see that there was not even an attempt at a curtsy. “Vi’let said as you’d left this behind at the meetin’, and that you’d be wantin’ it.”

Estella laughed as she saw Pippin glance from the servant lass to Diamond, his hand not reaching for the parchment.

“Oh, come on, Pip,” she cackled loudly, giving his upper arm a playful shove so that the water sloshed in the glass he held in the other hand. “You’ll have your litter and mathoms strewn all over the Shire if you keep this up, and all the poor maids will have to follow in your wake to clean up after you -- not, I’m sure, that they’d mind!” she added with an exaggerated wink at the servant.

The lass standing before them grinned broadly, and Pippin colored slightly, but it was Diamond who spoke, reaching to take the paper in her own hands and saying to the servant,

“Thank you, lass, for assisting Captain Peregrin with this business of the Thain’s. Would it be possible,” she added sweetly, “for you to take Mistress Estella’s plate back to the kitchens and exchange it? These servings appear to be having an unfortunate impact upon her head.”

The servant gulped, and glanced at Estella, but that hobbitess was shocked into silence, the noise level around her dipping as well, until she began to splutter and Merry put a restraining hand on her arm, his blue eyes looking coldly beyond her.

Captain Peregrin seemed intently fascinated with the food on his own plate as the servant took Estella’s and made a slight curtsy as she fled to Diamond, who inclined her head in return.


They departed the table shortly after, to a destination that, again, took Diamond by surprise. “I thought we’d take a short jaunt this eve,” Pippin said as he leaned forward to tug at the rowboat tethered along the riverbank.

“I saved you some walnut cakes from supper,” he grinned, withdrawing a paper-wrapped package from a different pocket than the one he’d placed the parchment in and waving it in front of him. “And I know just the spot to eat them,” he said, still grinning, as he placed the package upon one of the seats in the boat and held out a hand to his wife.

Diamond swallowed and stepped forward, allowing herself to be handed into the boat as well.

It was safe. Captain Peregrin said it was safe, she told herself as her hands clutched tightly to either side of the boat, the packet of cakes on her lap, while Pippin rowed. He is an honest hobbit. He said it was safe. It has to be safe.

She gave a start and a small squeal at a splash by the side of the boat.

Pippin laughed softly. “’Twas just a fish,” he informed her. “As we’ve other food along, and there’s naught in the Brandywine the size to tip our boat, I’d say we’re safe to pay him nevermind.”

The strong motion of his arms against the oars slowed and then ceased as he allowed the boat to float into a small pool shaded with trees, their multi-colored leaves floating upon the water.

Diamond gave another small gasp, this one of surprise and delight, as what she had at first taken to be an additional outcropping on one of the rocks protruding near the shore detached itself. The noise of their entrance into the pool was apparently enough to startle, and the gleaming dark of the turtle’s shell glistened as it slid into the water.

Pippin followed her gaze to the disappearing reptile, and was pleased to see that she had relaxed a bit.

“Merry showed me this spot,” he said, resting the ends of the oars in his lap. “He used to take lasses here.”

“And did you, hu-- Pippin?” Diamond ventured to ask, seeing the faraway look in his eyes. “Did you take lasses here as well?”

He shook his head and seemed to come back to the moment, grinning as he ducked his face. “Not afore this,” he replied.

“It is lovely,” Diamond said after a moment of silence, and slowly, carefully withdrew her hands from the boat sides to break open the packet of cakes and offer one out to her boating partner.


Upon their return to Crickhollow, Merry was waiting to speak to Pippin, while Diamond continued on to the bed chamber.

“Pip,” Merry said, his voice shaking with suppressed emotion as he clutched at the top of a kitchen counter. “Did you see what that Diamond-lass did to Estella at supper tonight?”

Pippin sighed and shuffled from foot to foot. “Aye, Merry, I did,” he said, looking at the floor.

“We should ask,” Merry said sternly, his eyes boring into Pippin, “that you speak to your wife!” he snapped.

Pippin dragged his head up and sighed again. “Aye, Merry, I will.”

Diamond had turned down the bed and was fluffing her pillow as Pippin entered the room. “Pip-- Husband?” she said, when she looked up and saw his face. “What is wrong?”

Pippin swallowed. “Merry asked me to speak to you about what happened at supper with Estella,” he said uncomfortably.

“Yes, husband,” Diamond acknowledged in a bare whisper, lowering her face toward the pillow she still clutched.

Pippin softly crossed the room and lifted her chin so her gray eyes met his green.

“Thank you,” he said.

Diamond’s eyes widened as he continued. “’t has upset Merry and Estella for the moment, I fear, but I hope they shall soon see reason. Aye, things’ve changed, and are changing,” he added, then stared briefly away before returning his eyes to Diamond’s.

“’Twas somethin’ that needed to be done, if I’m to keep the respect of the Shire, and for me to do ‘t, ‘twould have been...well, ‘twould have been awkward,” he trailed off, his eyes straying to the pouch of his old belongings which now sat upon a chair.


Diamond awoke in the night to the familiar sensation of movement from the other side of the bed.

“Pippin?” she called softly, placing a hand upon his arm.

He stirred again, then sat up, reaching out to light and turn up the flame on a lamp that sat near the bed. He flung himself back down on his pillow, an arm laid across his forehead.

“’m sorry,” he murmured, and Diamond could see tear tracks still upon his face. “I s’pose we should travel with draughts,” he said, looking at her with a small flicker of hope in his eyes.

“Hmm,” Diamond said as she propped herself on one elbow to survey the room. “Is there a full set of the marbles, do you think?” she asked as she looked at the pouch.

“Aye, I’m sure there’s plenty,” Pippin replied, his voice now reflecting curiosity and anticipation. “Why?”

“It is a game I once learned in the North Farthing,” Diamond smiled.

After they had gathered the marbles -- some from the pouch, and some from a smaller bag Pippin had retrieved from even farther in the recesses of the closet -- she began arranging the whites, the reds, the blues, the greens, the yellows, and the grays into six separate triangles upon the bedsheets. They formed the outline of a star.

“The object of the game,” she explained, “is for the pieces of each player’s color to gain control of the star point directly opposite.”


Merry and Pippin were alone in the kitchen again the next morn. Estella had run to an outbuilding, and Diamond had not yet emerged.

“So?” Merry said bluntly, then asked with suspicion. “I though I heard you two giggling last night.”

Pippin smiled to himself as he recalled the challenges of playing what seemed to him a North Farthing version of draughts as the marbles rolled among the bedsheets, and without a board for markings. “We were playing a game,” he answered.

“So?” Merry asked again. “Did you speak to her?”

“Aye,” Pippin said, and the smile faded as he squared his shoulders back and took a deep breath before seriously looking his cousin in the eyes. “I told her ‘thank you,’” he said. “On behalf of the Tooks and the Thain.”

Merry held his eyes for a moment before dropping his own gaze to look away.


The day was warmer than many in autumn, and the lads had decided to pay another visit to the river, this time for a swim. The lasses sat farther up the bank, their stitching along to keep them occupied.

Diamond had concealed one of Healer Willow’s books beneath her knitting, and her eyes occasionally skimmed its pages during silences from Estella. The Brandybuck hobbitess was giving in to such petulances upon occasion, but could not appear to keep her tongue still for long. When she chattered, Diamond would smile and nod as her knitting needles clicked.

“Well, Pip,” Merry said as they splashed near the water’s edge, his earlier animosity gone, “no matter how much good her manners do you in public, I’m glad to see that she’s stopped calling you ‘husband’ all the time, as it was at Lithe.”

“Oh,” Pippin shrugged and stroked lazily across the pool. “I don’t mind it, really, from time to time.”

“Oh, really?” Merry rolled his eyes from where he floated on his back, then waited a beat before adding, “Husband.”

“Merry!” Pippin laughingly protested, purposefully splashing water across his cousin. “Not from you! You don’t have,” he stood in the water and cocked his head to one side, critically examining Merry’s protruding tummy as he poked a hand toward it, “the figure for it.”

Diamond looked up from her book at the sound of her husband’s delighted shrieks. Captain Meriadoc had hold of him by the waist and was whirling him about on the riverbank, droplets of water flying off both their gleaming bare chests as they laughed.

Her breath caught in her throat and she continued staring, her fingers trapped in her book as its last few words ran through her mind.

“Adamantine packed the hamper with all sorts of delicacies, as she knew the place Rufus had proposed for their picnic along the Shirebourne was a favorite trysting spot.”

Diamond’s mind flashed back to the boating excursion of the evening before. Plying her with nuts and sweets, gifting her with jewels, guiding her hands at games...it suddenly occurred to her, with perfect clarity, that even though they be already wed, her husband -- Captain Peregrin -- Pippin -- was courting her, just as the lads did the lasses in her books.

Her eyes drank in the sight of him standing bare-chested upon the riverbank, laughing as he shook the water from his curls. A secret thrill ran through her.


_________
*”Diddle, Diddle, Or, The Kind Country Lovers,” British broadside, ca. 1672-1685
**Traditional nursery rhyme, adapted.

Chapter Eleven: Cut

Pippin turned his eyes toward his wife. She was doing it again. As soon as she caught him looking at her over the stem of his pipe, she glanced hastily back down to the knitting in her lap and pretended she hadn’t been staring.

It was getting unnerving, ‘twas. She’d been doing that a lot, ever since they returned from their trip to Buckland. And Pip didn’t feel he could say anything to her about it -- not when the lass was ill, with some sort of female complaint. Like as not, these odd stares were somehow related to that.

Not, of course, that Diamond herself had said anything on’t to him, Pippin mused as he blew out a ring of smoke. The stare of his green eyes fixed beyond its center, to where his hairy feet rested, stretched out before him in front of the hearth.

No, all he’d been left with was what little he’d gleaned from the old healer, who’d told him his wife had a problem and that some travels in the Shire might help it. Well, the travels had been all right, he supposed. She called him ‘Pippin’ now, on a time; that was something, and she seemed to have grown more comfortable in his presence.

Except for the staring. He risked another quick glance up: sure enough, she was doing it again, before she once more looked down to the yarn that trailed across the sofa. Pippin blew another smoke ring, this time leaning his head back to watch it lazily rise into the air.

Well, ‘twas Blotmath now, and there’d be no gallivantin’ about the Shire for new air for some time yet. The lass would just have to make do with what healing potions were here at the Smials.

And, despite the joy he found in seeing such good friends as Merry and Estella, and Sam and Rosie, the trip had had its way of being hard on Pippin. He sucked deep on his pipe, his cheeks hollowing, and released a great gust of smoke with nary a ring about it as he thought back to Sam’s newest lad, and the babes that had preceded him. No, indeed, ‘twouldn’t be a Pippin-lad soon, if ever, not if his wife were ill in that way.

Pippin looked askance at Diamond again, but this time she was truly busy counting out stitches and did not meet his gaze.

He supposed ‘twasn’t her fault, and he felt certain she’d not have married him if she’d known, but still...

He stood up suddenly, batting a hand at his eye in the movement, and tamped his pipe out with a clatter upon the dish that lay on the mantelpiece.

“I -- I think I’ll go see how Da’s reports are coming along, then,” he said abruptly, shoving his hands in his breeches pockets, and left the quarters.

“Fare thee well, Pip-- husband,” Diamond ended in a sigh as the door clicked shut on her words. She finished the row of stitching before putting the knitting aside and moving to the mantel to pick up the discarded pipe.

Captain Peregrin had been acting very oddly, ever since they’d returned from Buckland, she thought as she ran her thumb along the pipe stem, still damp from his saliva and nicked with small dents where he’d chewed upon it. Just when she was ready to appreciate being courted -- it seemed a fine thing, if the hobbitesses in the books could be believed -- he was suddenly spending evenings with the Thain, or with Everard, returning late and smelling of pipe smoke and ale. What was the attraction for hobbits of these things, anyway? Diamond carefully lifted the pipe stem to her mouth and inhaled, coughing as she let it fall back down to the dish.


“Och! Pip! This report -- ‘tis all wrong!”

Paladin threw the offending parchment across his desk and toward the chair where Pippin sat ramrod-straight in front of it.

“Dinna you pay attention when I brought you here with me beforetimes? And just what were you doin’ in Buckland all these years, I’d like to know!”

Paladin’s green eyes, beneath his salt and pepper curls, burned as cold as Pippin had ever seen them.

‘I was but a little lad when you brought me to do reports afore,’ he thought to himself. ‘’Twas play!’

And as for what he was doing in Buckland -- he’d been helping Merry run the farm on which the Crickhollow smial was located. ‘Twas Buckland land, so any reports of the harvest fell to Merry’s lot, and Pippin trusted his honest cousin to apportion him his fair share. And he’d been hosting and attending parties at all the liveliest smials, a different lass on his arm each time, more of them than not who would have been eager to kiss and hold him if he’d allowed it.

He hadn’t been, as ‘twas now, sitting about the Great Smials as the winter’s damp and dreariness pressed everyone close inside, wed to a hobbitess who wouldna give him an heir nor the joys of procuring one, and watching his previously gentle, jovial father turn harsh and demanding.

Out loud, Pippin said in formal, clipped tones, “I shall do the report again, then,” and picked it up with two fingers by its very edge. “Will that be all?”

“Aye,” Paladin agreed curtly, and Pippin walked stiffly to the door. His hand was on the knob when Paladin called out to stop him.

“Pip!” he said, and the voice was no gentler than before, though the words seemed kind enough. “You dinna need to do that now. Let it wait for the morrow.”

“’Tis not a bother, Da,” Pippin said, his hand still holding the doorknob and his back to the room as he spoke.

“Peregrin!” Thain Paladin barked out. “Go on back to your quarters with you, now.”

“Aye, sir,” Pippin said and left without looking back.

Paladin closed his eyes tight and pinched his lips at the tremor that ran through his gut. He hated that he was losing control of his body -- and of his tongue, seemingly. Pad couldna hardly remember ever speaking in such a harsh tone to his beloved lad, Pad’s bright hope for the future.

Pad clenched his fist around his quill and gritted his teeth in determination. Blast all the healers, anyway! Pip knew what he was about when he’d said as much as a tween. “Nothing can be found to explain what’s wrong, sir, and there’s likely nothing can be done about it.” Blast! Pad would show them: he’d not give in without a fight.

Pip should be spending these years as carefree as may be, a-visitin’ friends and their new lads and lasses, and peopling the Smials with his own, as well as learning -- learning, mind you -- the ropes of being Thain. ‘Twasn’t time yet for Pad’s lad to take the office himself: he wouldna give him another such burden of responsibility to carry in the same year as had seen him wed.

Pippin returned to his quarters, as the Thain had requested, and sank down into the chair before the hearth, but did not pick up his pipe. He idly wondered where Diamond was as he stretched a hand behind him to rub at the muscles of his neck.

“Why, certainly, Nellie, I shall be glad to accommodate you and Aster,” Diamond was saying as she backed through the door. “I--” she broke off on catching sight of Pippin. “Excuse me,” she said serenely to the voices murmuring on the other side of the door, and closed it upon them.

“Pippin?” she asked as she crossed the room to stand before him. “Are you ill?”

“Nay,” Pippin said, rubbing now at his shoulder. Heartsore, mayhap, but nay ill... “’Twas mere a hard day. Wife,” he sighed wearily and closed his eyes in defeat.

Diamond could not help the small smile that played about her lips as she felt a surge of pride to hear him use that word. It had been what she had dreamed of, as a lass in Mother and Father’s smial: to hear that designation from a hobbit of her own. This hobbit. Of whom she had been proud before they even truly met and who, now that she had lived with him for over half a year, had awakened other feelings in her as well. Anyone could call her by name, but “wife” was his alone.

“Did you need something?” Pippin asked, his voice still weary, as he sensed her continuing to stand before him.

“No,” Diamond said softly, her hand reaching out to -- not quite -- touch a slumped shoulder beneath those closed eyes. “But I daresay you do.”

Pippin cracked his eyes open at that and stared at her bleakly. “What do you mean?”

“It is something I learned,” Diamond said as she walked behind his chair, now placing a hand lightly upon his shoulder. “Something for when my husband had had a hard day. If it is all right?” she asked, now with a hand lying still upon the other shoulder as well.

Pippin shrugged stiffly. “You are my wife,” he said in the same defeated tone. “You may touch me as you wish.”

Diamond nodded, though Pippin could not see it, and began to rub and knead her fingers along his shoulder blades and the back of his neck. A few moments passed, and she frowned in concentration as the knots did not seem to ease.

“Excuse me a moment,” Diamond said and withdrew her hands. Pippin did not stir as she ducked into the bed chamber and came back with a small glass jar that was cool to her touch. Diamond hesitated a moment after removing the lid so that the soft scent of lavender escaped atop an undercurrent of hazelnut oil.

“This -- this may be more effective if it were not applied through clothing,” she said quietly, picking hesitantly at the cloth of his shirt that stretched across his shoulders.

“Ha!” Pippin laughed as he stood, a gleam coming into the eyes of his suddenly animated face, above a smile. “You just want to get my shirt off!” he teased.

Diamond flushed bright red as a cherry and hung her face toward her feet as Pippin began unbuttoning. He was right, she suddenly knew, as soon as he said it: she did want to see him shirtless again. Yet she dared not answer so.

“’Tis all right,” Pippin said, his cheerfulness deflating again as he dropped the shirt and braces upon the hearth rug. “My wife may look upon me as well.” He sat in the chair again, crouched forward with his chin resting in his hands, his back exposed to Diamond.

Tears pricked against his closed eyelids as he realized his wife would now have a clear view of what a ruined hobbit she’d married.

Diamond said nothing as she dipped her fingers into the fragrant oil and began again to run them over Pippin’s back. Small blotches and scars appeared here and there but, despite Pippin’s concern, Diamond did not find them to be flaws. She knew that Captain Peregrin had fought bravely in the Battle of Bywater and the Scouring of the Shire, and had come home some sort of hero even before that. She considered the scars badges of his honor, and was concerned only that they might pain him.

She carefully rubbed the oiled tip of her thumb gently along each mark, last of all tracing the long, thin weals which arced across his back. The flats of her hands pressed and squeezed, and she felt strong muscles rippling beneath them. At last, she felt that the knots were all loosened, and she leaned her head forward next to his face to speak, only to jump back in startlement at the snore that met her.

Diamond smiled and carefully leaned Captain Peregrin’s torso back in the chair, at which his head lolled to one side. She frowned slightly then and pulled a crocheted blanket from the back of the sofa to carefully tuck about him before going to the quarters’ door. Cautiously opening it, she peered down the corridor, then up, and smiled at catching sight of what she had hoped to see.

“Bert!” she called softly. “Could you come here, please? I have a task which requires assistance.”

“For certain, Mistress Diamond,” the servant said cheerfully as he hustled up to the door and ducked his head. “What is’t needs doin’?”

Diamond smiled and placed a finger to her lips as she opened the door wider and cocked her head toward where Pippin sat awkwardly asleep in the chair.

Bert grinned back at her, and they left the door to the quarters wide as the young servant gently lifted the Heir and his blanket and carried him to the bed Diamond had turned down.

“Thank you, Bert,” Diamond said, not bothering to turn around as she drew the bedclothes up over Pippin.

“You’re welcome, Mistress Diamond,” the hobbit answered just as softly, still grinning as he backed out of the chambers and closed the door behind him.


“Well, they were not on the list!” Diamond said in clear distress as Pippin paced the sitting room.

“Och! I know’t!” Pippin answered, putting a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes as he halted and grasped the back of a chair with his other hand. “And truly, ‘tis his brother with whom I dinna want to dine.” He opened his eyes to peer through his fingers at Diamond. “You’re sure she said ‘twould be just the lasses?”

“Yes!” Diamond answered from her seat at the table. “Well, Pimpernel said Everard’s sisters may have their husbands along for the visit, but she wanted leave for herself and Aster to entertain Mistresses...Mistressess...”

“Morning Glory? Moonflower? Four O’clock?” Pippin supplied, as his wife nodded at each name.

“She wanted leave to entertain them in the parlor, and I gave it freely,’ Diamond said, twisting her hands about a cloth napkin that still lay upon the table. “I did not know that they would then decide to bring the hobbits along, nor that we should be asked to accompany them!”

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Pippin sighed, dropping the hand that covered his face. “And you meant well, to show a kindness to my sister. You are sure you don’t know if Everard’s brother Regi is invited as well? Nor any other hobbits?”

Diamond shook her head mutely no at each question. “The kitchen lasses are preparing the tables now, I believe,” she said to the tablecloth, “as they will have other duties to attend later in the day. They may have received further instructions from Pimpernel.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right, of course,” Pippin said decisively and turned to depart the quarters. “Ask the servants, if you want to know what’s going on,” he muttered as he left.

Diamond continued staring at the tablecloth, Pippin’s “short list” of hobbits whose invitation to dine he did not wish to accept as clear now in her mind as when he had written it six months ago in Forelithe:

“Sackville-Bagginses.
Reginard Took.
Lily Goold. (Unless she’s not cooking, then it’s all right.”

Diamond shook her head. Her husband’s strange moods continued, and now it seemed she had unwittingly offended -- possibly even disobeyed! -- him. She drew a deep breath and rose from her chair to follow him to the parlor at the end of the corridor.

Pippin paused in the archway, hesitating as he watched Poplar and Holly distribute place settings upon the tables that had been set up in the room. How did one broach the subject of finding out whether one’s disliked cousin was invited to a dinner party without it becoming fodder for gossip among the servants? For that matter, what was he to say to tweenaged kitchen lasses if he were not asking them about food?

The silver cutlery in her hand clinked against a china plate as Holly happened to glance up and see Pippin standing in the doorway. Both lasses’ clear laughter and chattering ceased as they curtsied toward him, but their smiles remained.

“Er...hullo, there,” Pippin said awkwardly as he stepped into the room. He ran a hand through his curls so that a portion of them stood out from his head as he adopted a false brightness to ask, “Is everything going all right, then?”

It was Poplar who answered as the two lasses exchanged gleaming looks with each other. “Yes, sir,” she said. “Did Mistress Diamond require anything of us?”

“Er...er, no,” Pippin said, moving his hand to his hair again. “I had something myself to ask you...that is, I was wondering...,” he stopped as he swept his eyes over the place settings, trying to tally in his mind how many there were and whom they would be for. Blast! It was no use, he thought; he couldna know if the lasses were even finished with their work, let alone who else might have been invited to this soiree.

His attention thus diverted, Pippin did not see the matching glints in their eyes as Holly and Poplar looked at each other again.

‘Twas such a shame, the lasses had whispered to each other on many occasions, that such a handsome young hobbit as Mr. Pippin had been saddled with such a cold wife as Mistress Diamond. After the altercation Poplar had witnessed between them shortly before Mistress Pimpernel’s birthday in Forelithe, she and Holly had remembered his awkward approach that had decidedly not ended in a kiss the day after the wedding. They knew for a fact, from the lasses who served first breakfast in the other part of the Smials, that Thain Paladin pecked Mistress Eglantine on the lips each morn.

Come to think on’t, they had concluded, they had never seen Mr. Pippin and Mistress Diamond touch in such a way. They had begun watching. And, when the usually close-mouthed maid Trefoil proved not so well able to hold the wine they shared after receiving a flask as a gift on Holly’s brother’s birthday, they found that she hadna changed any soiled sheets since the weddin’ night. True, ‘twas, they were sometimes disarranged, but the furnishings of the sitting room seemed disturbed on those nights also. Such a shame...such a handsome hobbit to go to waste...

Pippin’s feet had followed his eyes as he tried to calculate the number of place settings and invited guests, and he found himself next to the corner which held the spinet as he turned back ‘round -- to discover the two kitchen lasses standing close together in front of him.

“Oh,” he said and jumped a little at their unexpected proximity. He raised his hand to his hair again. “I wondered if you knew,” he began, then swallowed as the lasses continued to stare avidly at him and, it seemed, to move forward. “If you could tell me...”

He was backed completely against the spinet now, his breath coming fast as he glanced from one lass to the other.

“We know a lot of things,” Poplar purred as she closed the small distance between them and placed her hand on the front of his shirt.

“Aye, sir,” Holly agreed with a soft giggle as she placed another predatory paw just above his hipbone.

“We could show you, if you like,” Poplar whispered as she tilted her head up to place her mouth against his neck.

“Aye, we could,” Holly chimed in as her hand began to move.

“No!” Pippin gasped out as his head fell back and his hands crashed behind him onto the keyboard of the spinet, producing a discordant sound of jangled notes. “I -- I -- dinna -- married!” he forced out between his lips as his hands now clutched the edge of the spinet. Partly, ‘twas to keep him from physically harming these lasses as he pushed them away, he told himself, and partly -- well, ‘twas to support him as his limbs trembled and his knees buckled under him. “No!” he choked out again, his green eyes wide, but could not force himself to move as Holly leaned her face forward toward his.

“Stop!” Diamond shouted from the archway. She crossed the room before Pippin could blink and had hauled Holly away by the neckline of her frock, slapping the lass hard across the face with her other hand.

Poplar backed up a step but protested indignantly, “Hoy! You canna strike her like that!”

“I may, and I shall,” Diamond shouted back, two bright spots of red burning high on her cheekbones, her hand raised in the air again as Holly sniffled and rubbed her cheek behind her and Pippin half-stood, frozen in position against the spinet. “Shall I treat you the same, for showing my husband such callous disrespect?”

Poplar settled her lips into a thin, grim line and answered coldly, “Nay, Mistress,” as she dropped a stiff curtsy. “We shall return to our work, then.”

“No, you shan’t,” Diamond answered in a voice like ice and steel and reached out with stunning quickness to grasp hard within each hand a wrist of one of the lasses. “I am escorting you right now to pack your things, and I shall see you both depart by the end of the day. You no longer work at the Great Smials.”

“But ‘tis raining, and like to turn to snow!” protested Holly, casting beseeching eyes back toward Pippin as she was dragged along.

“Is it?” Diamond said indifferently as she hauled her captives from the room.

Pippin exhaled a sob and staggered forward from the spinet, passing a hand over his face before he ran from the room.

He weaved through the corridors, not hearing comments behind him, nor Bert’s shouts of “Mr. Pippin! Hoy, sir! Mr. Peregrin! Hoy, Captain, what’s amiss?” as the hobbitservant followed his headlong rush out the door.

It was impossible to tell, when Bert caught up with him in the stables, whether the water which streamed down Pippin’s face was completely from the rain, or whether it mixed with tears.

“Sir!” Bert panted, and Pippin threw a wild glance at him as he saddled Sorrel and said agitatedly, “Well, come if you’re coming!”

Bert took one look at him and threw a saddle onto another nearby pony, mounting quickly to ride behind him as they galloped, coatless, away from the Smials.

It was at the Grub ‘n Grog in Tuckborough that they finally pulled up, a place that was more pub than inn, though it did have some rooms to let.

Bert nursed his mug of ale as he sat near the crackling fire and watched Pippin, across from him, down several. This process was somewhat slowed by Pippin weeping into the mugs, crying out snatches of sentences which made no sense to Bert.

“Promised...swore an oath...honor her...dinna...to break a promise...she canna...willna...but still, I swore! I must! What kind of hobbit...how can I hope to lead the Shire?...Useless baggage!”

These cries and mutterings would be followed by long draughts of ale, so that Bert was not surprised, when Pippin removed the latest upended mug from his face, to see that the Heir’s nose and eartips were flushed a bright red. “Here, sir,” he said, reaching for the empty mug Pippin had set with a clatter upon the table, misestimating its distance from his mouth. Bert tugged the mug from his fingers and slid it to join the other empties as Pippin blinked owlishly and swayed slightly.

“I think ‘tis time to go, as you’re in your cups, sir,” Bert said as he walked to the other side of the table and reached under Pippin’s arms to lift him from the chair. He glanced at the table strewn with mugs, then at the bartender and finally, hesitantly, down to Pippin’s pockets. As he looked back up from his charge, now on his feet but still swaying, the bartender acknowledged him with a wave and a nod to Pippin. Bert nodded back gratefully.

As they rode their ponies back through the rain and the cutting wind to the Great Smials, Bert reached over to turn a straying Sorrel back onto the path. In doing so, his hand encountered Pippin’s, icy-cold upon the reins.

He half carried him through the dimmed hallways of the Smials to knock upon the quarters’ doors, which Diamond opened immediately, still fully dressed.

“Carry him to bed,” she said upon seeing Bert’s burden. “I shall call a healer.”

Pippin drifted in and out for the next few days, aware sometimes of the headache, or the fever he’d acquired, plus, each time he awoke, the presence of a wife who did not offer him the reproach he felt he deserved. Sometimes, he thought as he blinked his eyes open and then slowly closed them against the sight of her wringing out a fresh cloth to place upon his forehead, ‘twas easier to sleep than to face her.

Diamond smoothed the curls from Captain Peregrin’s forehead with one hand while she held the cloth in place with the other. His father should not come near him for some reason, the healers had said, and his mother had held a whispered consultation with Diamond in the hallway outside her quarters early in the illness.

“I shouldna spend much time with him either,” Eglantine had said, “lest I carry the sickness to Pad. I know you’ll take good care of our lad.” She looked Diamond squarely in the eyes.

To which Diamond looked boldly back and replied, “Yes, ma’am, I shall.”

Mistress Eglantine’s lad, she thought as she pressed the cloth against the fevered brow. Her hobbit.

She felt a fierce possessiveness toward him, kindled anew by the thoughts of how the kitchen lasses had presumed to touch him. How dare they treat her Pippin so! She raged inwardly, her fingers tightening unconsciously in his curls so that he winced.

Yet ‘twas a small price to pay, and no more than he deserved, Pippin thought from beneath closed eyelids.

Diamond had reached the archway that day in time to hear her husband say no, and to see the lasses ignore his protestations. Stunned at first into immobility by their presumptuousness, she had found her feet and her tongue again when it became apparent that Holly meant to kiss Captain Peregrin. If any hobbitess were ever to kiss Diamond’s husband, it was going to be her!

Her fingers clenched again, and Pippin could not still his movement.

“Pippin?” Diamond whispered as she leaned toward him. “Husband?”

He blinked groggy green eyes open at her, and Diamond smiled to see them. She released both the cloth and his curls to reach for a mug which sat on the nightstand, a coaster on its top to keep in as much heat as might be.

“I asked the healers about this, and they said it should do no harm, and I think it may do some good,” she smiled as she held the mug toward him.

“’Tis apple bark steeped for a tea,” she encouraged as she held the mug to his lips. “It should help to reduce your fever.”

Pippin glanced up briefly to her gray eyes, but saw no accusation there; certainly none as great as that which he felt within himself. He obediently sipped the tea.


“Pervinca, it really isn’t a good idea,” Pimpernel tried.

“Posh!” her younger sister replied. “Pip’s ill, Da’s ill; I mayn’t disturb them. Has this family lost all its hobbits to hide behind skirts?”

“Diamond doesn’t want--” Pimpernel began again, but Pervinca talked right over her.

“I shall listen to Mama, of course, but I don’t get to visit the Smials often, and if I want to see the Piglet, I shall!”

“Diamond willna like--”

“Diamond,” sniffed Pervinca haughtily, as she raised a hand to knock on Pippin and Diamond’s door, “is nay the daughter of the Thain!”

“Yes?” Diamond asked with quiet confidence as she opened the door to glance from one tall hobbitess to the other.

“I’m sorry,” Pimpernel mouthed to her from behind the darker-haired sister, and Diamond gave a slight nod of acknowledgment as Pervinca stated in a demanding tone,

“I am Mistress Pervinca Took Proudfoot. I am here to see my brother.”

“I see,” Diamond responded in turn, and the two hobbitesses stared each other down until Diamond turned abruptly to enter the bed chamber, leaving Pimpernel and Pervinca standing at the door. Pimpernel had just about decided it was a dismissal and was reaching to pull her sister away when Diamond just as abruptly returned.

“He is awake,” she informed the sisters. “You may have a few minutes to visit, lest he tires too much.”

“Thank you, Diamond,” Pimpernel said gratefully as Pervinca swept ahead of them into the bed chamber.

“You’re welcome, Nellie,” Diamond smiled back.

Pervinca had perched herself on the end of the bed, which Diamond frowned to see but refrained from commenting upon. Pimpernel sat in a chair drawn to the bedside, and Diamond nodded once again to her before withdrawing to leave the siblings on their own.

Pervinca chattered away about many topics of conversation: the farm she lived upon, the quality of the canning she’d done and was eating from this winter, her children, plans for the Yule celebration -- to which Pippin responded listlessly and Pimpernel added occasional interjections.

Pervinca was dismayed to see her brother so worn down, but she hardened her heart against it. ‘He’s a Took,’ she told herself, ‘and we Tooks must be tough if we are to survive.’

More so, she found herself distressed at his unwillingness to initiate conversation. She had told herself before this year’s Yule visit that Pippin’s new status as a married hobbit, and the circumstances of that marriage, would give her an ally in the isolation she felt from her own situation. She was surprised, then, to discover how little his seeming unhappiness pleased her. The both of them had striven mightily to be loyal to the Tooks, she thought, but she added to the thought with a sinking despair, for them both again, it seemed ‘twas now too late for happiness to arrive.

Diamond cleared her throat in the doorway. “I think it is time for you to leave,” she said graciously to the sisters, nodding to where Pippin’s eyes were drooping.

Pervinca stared at this hobbitess, this young North Farthing upstart who had taken from one of the Shire’s finest hobbits all the chances at life he should have had.

“Humph,” she snorted at Diamond’s request, and turned to jostle Pippin’s arm as he began to doze. “Hoy! Piglet!” she called out. “What say you?”

Pippin peeled his eyes open again and glanced from his wife to his sisters before responding softly, “Whatever Diamond says.”

Diamond’s lips and eyes had narrowed at Pervinca as she addressed her brother, and she said now, with a subtle emphasis on the name and title, “Captain Peregrin needs his rest.”

“Humph,” Pervinca snorted again, and the bed creaked as she rose and rapped a quick knuckle on Pippin’s forehead. “Sleep well, baby brother.”

‘Henpecked!’ Pervinca thought as she withdrew from the room. ‘And she doesna know how lucky she is, to have such a gentlehobbit as this!’

Chapter Twelve: Lozenge

Yule that year seemed a quiet celebration -- quieter than Diamond might have expected at the Great Smials.

Oh, certainly there were feasts and joyous songs and numerous hobbits about, but Captain Peregrin seemed to be recovering slowly, and retired to bed well before midnight on First Yule, claiming he was tired.

When she arose on Second Yule, however, he was already on the sofa of the sitting room, clad in his dressing gown and sipping his morning tea.

“Good new Yule!” Diamond said as she stepped up beside him and placed her hand on his forehead. The fever seemed to be gone, but it worried her that he did not seem as active and vigorous as he once had.

“Good new Yule,” Pippin responded after swallowing his mouthful of tea. “I believe there is something for you,” he nodded to the hearth rug behind her.

Diamond turned, puzzled, and gave a small gasp as she saw the items arrayed before the fire. “But -- but I am a married hobbitess!” she exclaimed softly, biting her lip as she looked toward them.

“Aye,” Pippin agreed, “but you’re nay yet of age.”

His eyes tracked his young wife as she knelt before the fire to gather her treasure, and he remembered his mother speaking the same words to him at the Yule of eight years ago.

Diamond held her own dressing gown out before her to form a pouch in which to place the almonds, the honey-roasted nuts, the walnuts, the chestnuts for roasting, the wrapped pieces of molasses taffy, and the colored glass bracelet which matched the necklace she had received at the Fair. Yule Dwarf gifts at the Great Smials, it seemed, were more elaborate than those in the North Farthing.

This year was the last she would find nuts and sweets and trinkets left to her by the Yule Dwarf who came in the night between First and Second Yule, in the magic hours when the old year passed to the new. Dwarves knew how to stoke the fires in their mines, and the Yule Dwarf was magic, so he was unsinged as he leaped across the Yule log to lay gifts upon the hearth for all the good hobbit lads and lasses.

“I--” Diamond began as she stood and turned back to Pippin, blushing as she held her dressing gown in front of her to cup her treasures.

A rap-tapping at the door interrupted her, and both hobbits tensed, the peaceful moment broken.

“Who is’t?” Pippin called out in a strained voice, to be answered with the cheerful response,

“’Tis Pimpernel! May I come in?”

Both hobbits in the room visibly relaxed their shoulders at that, although Diamond quickly clutched at her clothes again, lest her gifts fall to the floor.

It was Pippin who opened the door while she was thus occupied, exchanging quick pecks on the cheek with his middle sister as they wished each other a good new Yule.

As Pimpernel moved farther into the room, she moved to embrace Diamond as well, but stopped short when she saw the items the lass was laying upon the dining table.

“What’s this, then?” Pimpernel asked gaily. “I thought ‘twas yesterday was the gift exchange.”

“’Tis from the Yule Dwarf,” Pippin said gruffly behind her. “She’s still naught but a lass, you know.

“Did you need me, Nellie?” he asked. “For I thought perhaps I oughtn’t to wear this,” he waved a hand down at his dressing gown, and the corners of his mouth began to quirk up toward the sort of smile that had not been seen of late, “in front of the servants.” A slight flush of crimson began to stain his cheeks. “Er, in the servants’ quarters.” He blushed redder and looked even more uncomfortable. “Er--”

“’Tis all right, Pip,” Pimpernel interjected quietly. “I came to talk to Diamond.”

Pippin ducked his head toward his chest and escaped back to the bed chamber to change his clothes. Both hobbitesses’s eyes tracked his movements, and then they looked back to each other awkwardly.

“Diamond, I am so sor--” Pimpernel began, just as Diamond simultaneously began to ask,

“What was--”

She stopped herself, and held up a hand in a gesture that also meant “stop.” Smiling softly, she assured her sister-in-law, “Pimpernel, please, I do not wish to say it again. It was not your fault what those -- those -- I cannae even think to say it,” she shuddered, “what they did.”

A slight smile creased Pimpernel’s features at the bit of Tookishness creeping into Diamond’s speech, but it quickly fled.

“I just cannae help it, to feel a wee bit guilty that ‘twas my family’s dinner...and then...and then Pippin getting sick...and he doesna seem, quite, to be getting better,” she trailed off as her eyes roved toward the bed chamber again.

“I know,” Diamond said in a defeated tone, and Pimpernel turned quickly back to embrace her in a hug.

“Oh! Sister!” she cried out. “I dinna come to talk on such things, but to wish you a good new Yule!” She pecked Diamond’s cheek as she had done to Pippin, and Diamond smiled back at her with bright eyes and whispered back,

“Good new Yule!”

“And,” Pimpernel added, “I rather thought -- well, that perhaps you would like someone to go with you this morn.”

“Thank you,” Diamond said sincerely. “That would be most kind. I shall just go and change, myself.”

As she entered the bed chamber, she brushed past Pippin coming out. Diamond noted that he was clad, under his jacket, in the weskit she had given him on First Yule, when families exchanged gifts among themselves.

It was of a black velvet background, a fabric that was both elegant and warm in winter, and was embellished with large flowers of the type in the pattern she had designed so long ago and that Captain Peregrin had instructed her to embroider upon a pair of braces for him this autumn. Diamond had stitched the leaves of these flowers in a green with a silvery cast about it, remembering the clothing Captain Peregrin had worn to their wedding.

Pippin’s gift to Diamond, in turn, had been a pair of teardrop-shaped carnelian earrings within a gold setting. They were quite nice; they were also very similar -- only a bit larger, with a different colored stone -- to the earrings his three sisters and his mother had received. They were the type of gift that would be purchased by a hobbit, forbidden by the healers to do much traveling in the cold, who had sent his hobbitservant to a fine shop in Tuckborough with the injunction to “get something nice.”

Pervinca, her visit to the Great Smials being a long one this Yule time, had whispered to Pearl upon opening her package, “Do you s’pose we’ll get the matching bracelets for his birthday in a few days, then?”

“Hush!” Pearl had admonished, giggling though she was herself. “At least ‘tis better than the year he turned twenty, when Mama and Da let him pick out his own gifts unsupervised for the first time.”

The sisters tittered amongst themselves as they remembered a younger Pippin, confronted with two occasions in such close proximity that required gift giving to so many lasses. He had solved this dilemma, he’d apparently thought at first, quite admirably, by presenting them each with one earring from a set on First Yule, and its mate on his birthday, which followed four days later on the third of Afteryule.* After a little talk from their parents about how that was not an appropriate choice, however, he’d felt so guilty that he’d been much more accommodating than usual toward his sisters for some time afterward.


Diamond’s skirts swept behind her, Pimpernel’s following, as she entered the common area of the servants’ quarters on this side of the Smials.

“Good new Yule, Mistress Diamond!” they chorused cheerily as one and made their obeisances. Diamond pasted a smile onto her face to return the greeting and, on this day, curtsied herself to the assembled servants as she spoke the expected “Good new Yule!”

Pippin had entered the room merely a few steps before her, and Diamond had heard him exchange the same greetings. The breakfast they had had in their quarters that morning -- Diamond hastily, after she had dressed -- had been a mostly cold affair, one they had put together themselves from bits saved over from the feasts of the day before.

Now, Pippin pulled up a chair on one side of the room, and Diamond on the other. The hobbitservants lined up before the Heir, and the hobbitesses, for the first time, before his Mistress rather than his sister, to have read to them any Yule greetings their families had been able to send.

Some of the servants had gone to visit their families for the holidays, but of course many remained at the Smials. Diamond felt that, in a sense, she understood them: although Captain Peregrin had given her a generous allowance with which to purchase gifts to send to her family in the North Farthing, she, too, had been expected to stay at the Smials. For all that she was still young enough to receive gifts from the Yule Dwarf, she must also perform the duties expected of the Mistress to the Heir.


“Well, and it’s just right too bad that the holidays is nearly over,” the new kitchen lass stated confidently as she worked to tidy the table in Pippin and Diamond’s quarters the next day. Both Geranium’s keen eyes and Diamond’s were upon Sage as she gathered the ends of the tablecloth together in a prelude to bunching it up and carrying it toward the hearth to shake the crumbs out.

“Then there’ll be no more parties and all, and it’ll be back to just plain cookin’ for you, Miz Geranium,” the tweenage lass said, nodding her head toward the Second Cook as she grabbed a small broom, without being asked, to sweep the bits that had fallen on the floor into the fire.

Geranium was making a point to provide extra supervision during this lass’s training, but it seemed as if she was doing fine. Diamond was glad she had written to the Mayor’s wife, Mistress Rose, to ask if she knew if there could be found around Hobbiton any lasses of good reputation, handy in the kitchen, who were available to work at the Smials on such short notice.

Although Sage Goodchild was a younger tween than some of the servants, Diamond was glad to see that her first hire for the Smials seemed to be working out.

“Oh, I don’t know about no more parties at the Great Smials, lass,” chuckled Geranium. “After all, there’s already Captain Peregrin’s birthday on the third.”

Diamond gave a small start, then a smile began to spread across her face. Pippin’s birthday! Of course! “Gerry,” she began as she turned toward the Second Cook.


“You wanted to see me, Da?” Pippin asked, poking his head around the doorway into Thain Paladin’s office.

“Aye, lad,” his father answered, waving him in, “though I dinna expect to see you so early on your birthday. “How’s your wife, then?” he winked.

Pippin grinned rather faintly back. “She seems to have been rather preoccupied these past couple of days.”

“Harumph!” Paddin exclaimed. “At least she kissed you good morn and happy birthday, though, did she not?”

Pippin’s grin grew no brighter as he said, “That ‘twould be telling.”

“Aye, that it ‘twould!” Paladin laughed, having come out from behind his desk to clap his son on the back. “Raised you up into a gentlehobbit, we did.” He lowered his voice to add, “without much help from me, your mother might say.”

Pippin gave a true snort of amusement at this, and his face was still lit up as his father embraced him, saying, “I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my lad.” He tilted his chin up to be able to say into Pippin’s ear, “my own little Thain Peregrin.”

Pippin stiffened a bit at this while he was returning the hug, but then forced himself to relax.

“So,” Paladin said as they broke apart after a moment, resuming the game the two had played on a time as Pippin grew up, “what is it you wish this day, my Thain?”

And Pippin, playing along, asked for what he had frequently desired as a child. “Have you any more of those sweets hidden in the drawer of your desk?” he asked cheekily.

“Aye,” Paladin smiled as he went to withdraw the hard sarsaparilla root candies from the main drawer. Today was a good day, and he did not mention that on some other dates, even these now disagreed with him.

“You know, Pip,” he said instead, his eyes twinkling as he tipped the sweets into his son’s hand, “you’re old enough now for an actual ale.”

“Perhaps after nooning,” Pippin grinned back, and popped one of the sarsaparilla lozenges into his mouth to suck on.


Pippin approached his birthday party with trepidation. He tried to tell himself there was no reason to be leery just because Diamond had been so involved in the planning of the party, but the truth was...he was leery because Diamond had been so involved in the planning of the party.

Things seemed to move along properly and decorously, though, with a feast of fine food, then his own short speech and handing out of gifts. (His sisters exchanged knowing glances as they received their bracelets.) Pippin was anticipating, next, the expected dancing in the floor space of the great room that had been cleared.

It was the predictable pattern of birthday parties, and would likely be the order every one of his would follow from now on -- with the rest of his life following in orderly, predictable routine. Mayhap his wife, she who was to be his partner in this life, couldna love him, but Pippin silently renewed his resolve to be a respectable and a responsible gentlehobbit, and to fulfill the vow he had made in front of both Diamond and the Shire to honor her. There would be no more departures from routine that could lead to transgressions, he told himself, beyond what he had already committed. Where was the band, anyway?

“May I have your attention, please?” Diamond asked as she rose from her seat to face the room full of hobbits. She had swallowed, hard, before daring to address them all, and her voice held still a faint rasp of fear. Pimpernel smiled conspiratorially at her from further down the table, causing raised eyebrows on the part of Pervinca, and Diamond continued with more confidence.

“There will be no dancing this evening.” Pippin began to frown at this, and a slight buzz of chatter made its way through the room, but Diamond continued on.

“We shall have, instead, a series of games,” she said. More murmurings -- some merely surprised, others pleasantly so -- followed this announcement, so that not many hard her words which followed. “We might have remembered, this past Yule, that we were all once lasses and lads, and there is no rule which requires us to put all such amusements aside.”

Pippin was a bit befuddled by this choice of his wife’s in party planning, but decided it must be attributable to her desire, along with the healers’, to protect him from the overexertion of dancing.

Diamond’s natural reticence proved to be an asset in the first game, in which various sortings of hobbits arranged themselves into seated circles. Taking up a stick someone had fetched from the tinder pile, she tapped it twice on the floor in front of Everard, seated next to her, and spoke the words to the game:

“My father sent me here with a staff,
To speak to you and not to laugh.”

Everard, of course, was already beaming as he crowed out the expected response: “Methinks you smile!” he called out gleefully.

“Methinks I don’t,” responded Diamond with perfect composure.

“I smooth my face with ease and grace,
And set my staff in its proper place.”**

She leaned forward with a flourish and presented the staff to Everard, never once cracking a smile.

Her features remained composed as the stick wended its way around the circle, even though several other hobbits were collapsing in giggles and guffaws -- aided by the antics of their friends, many of whom were making faces and pulling gestures designed to make the current stick wielder collapse in mirth.

Diamond looked anxiously once or twice to Pippin on her other side, and her eyes did relax a bit as she saw that he, too, had succumbed to a couple of giggles. By the time the stick reached him, Pippin was grinning as he reached for it.

His smile seemed frozen and hesitant, though, as he turned to Diamond to tap on the floor before her.

“My father sent me here with a staff,
To speak to you and to make you laugh,” he recited dutifully as the giggles continued around them.

Diamond’s own spirits sank again at seeing this and, thinking quickly, she darted a foot out from beneath her skirts and ran her toes lightly and quickly along Pippin’s instep, keeping her face neutral except for the a raising of the eyebrows, as she responded, “Methinks you smile.”

Pippin yelped at the surprise of being tickled and jumped back slightly from the accosting foot. He continued with a slightly bewildered expression,

“Methinks I don’t.
I smooth my face with ease and grace,
And put my staff in its proper place.”

Diamond stood to take the stick he proffered as the circle was completed and offered, finally, a tight-lipped smile to Pippin as grasped the other end of the stick. He, in turn, smiled bashfully back at her.

The next game took place at the tables. It was fortunate coincidence, Diamond had thought, that the letters “P” and “T” called for one of the game’s cubes mirrored the initials of the birthday hobbit. She sat next to Pippin at a table filled otherwise with his sisters and their husbands to throw the two cubes -- one marked on three sides with a P and on the other three with a T; the other cube labeled 1, 2, 3, and 4 on four of its sides and A (standing for “all” ) on its two remaining ones.

Five times around they went, with each player taking a turn to “put” or “take” the appropriate number of dried beans from the pile in the center, according the results of their throw.

Game of chance it might be, but the lads inevitably fell into good-natured bickering about the need for -- and their own prowess in -- throwing skills to effect the desired outcome. Diamond was glad to see Pippin take part in this, and even more so to hear him laugh out loud and give a small bounce in his seat as his final roll, right before the winner would be calculated based on a count of who had the most beans, led to a result of T, A: take all.

Other games ensued during the evening, and Pippin seemed progressively to grow more relaxed and closer to the hobbit Diamond had previously known as the festivities wore on. At last, it was time for the final entertainment she had planned.

This was a game in which married hobbits were to partner with each other, she had told those assembled as she passed out the equipment. Thain Paladin, sitting with Mistress Eglantine to one side of the room, opted to sit this one out as she offered a piece of string to his wife. Pippin’s parents had played some of the games this evening; for others, his father had elected to rest.

“Ready. On your marks. Set,” he called out as Pippin and Diamond and the other couples stared at each other from opposite ends of a length of string. “Go!” Paladin shouted and, their hands clasped behind their backs, they began to earnestly suck and chew on the string in a race to reach the treat suspended in the middle.

Doggedly approaching the marshmallow from his end of the string, Pippin looked up from his pursuit of the confection to check Diamond’s progress. She must have made good time at the beginning, for she seemed to have moved quite far along the string, but now something seemed to be holding her back as she made slower, more deliberate chomps toward the marshmallow. Her eyes were fixed all the while on Pippin’s face.

Their clear gray pools managed to look somehow both calm and anticipatory, and even a little bit apprehensive, all at once. There was something else there, too, but before Pippin had time to process what it was, he had oh-so-very-nearly reached the marshmallow. His green eyes widened then, in sudden understanding, to look into hers.

His mouth, at the same time, opened wider nearly of its own accord for his teeth to clamp down on the marshmallow. Diamond simultaneously twitched her own mouth forward and, as Pippin’s lips began closing together and he looked into his wife’s eyes, their lips met for the first time. Their tongues and teeth clashed slightly together, the sweetness of the marshmallow melting between them.

As Pippin swallowed the chunk of confection he had bit off, and Diamond swallowed hers, they remained standing for a moment, their lips pressed together, the tail of a string dangling out of the mouth of each.

Pippin’s brain strummed with one thought: he had kissed his wife.


_________
*”The last day of the year and the first of the next year were called the Yuledays. The Yuledays...remained outside the months, so that January [Afteryule] 1 was the second and not the first day of the year.” Return of the King, Appendix D, “The Calendars.”

**from Games and Songs of American Children by William James Newell, 1893; an adaptation of a verse game found in The Popular Rhymes of Scotland by Robert Chambers, 1826.

Chapter Thirteen: River Diggings

Pippin was the one casting occasional glances at his wife as they walked back to their quarters after the party. She had unconsciously raised her shoulder under the arm of his that was linked with hers, supporting him, in defense of the occasional limp, as she had since the day after they wed.

A faint smile played about her face, but her eyes remained focused forward.

“Did you -- did you enjoy your party then, husb--Pippin?” she asked. Unconsciously, she darted her tongue out to quickly trace along her lips in search of lingering sweetness.

“Aye,” Pippin breathed out, watching the tongue’s path so intently that he stumbled as they walked, to be caught by Diamond’s arm.

They had reached the door to their quarters now, and Pippin withdrew his arm to open it and usher Diamond in. Once inside, he turned to face her.

“Dia-- wife,” he began. “Did you -- did you do tha’ deliberate?” Pippin’s own tongue came out to lick his bottom lip.

“What was that?” Diamond asked calmly.

She remained calm as Pippin hesitated a mere second longer, then stepped forward and leaned his head down to be close to hers. His hand cupped the dark curls at the back of her head as he closed his eyes and moved his mouth to meet hers. Even without the aid of confections, this second kiss was a sweet one.

And so was the one after that, and the next one, and the one which followed, and so on.

Sage finally tired of knocking and opened the door to poke her head in of her own accord the morning when the initial goodbye kiss had evolved rapidly into repeated busses interspersed with giggles on both sides. The arrival of the kitchen lass to collect the first breakfast things did finally prompt Pippin to leave, and he walked through the corridors with more of a spring in his step than he had had for weeks.

An evening came when Pippin and Diamond sat with a draught board between them, but Pippin’s mind was not on the game.

“Do you enjoy it, then, this kissing that we’ve been doing?” he asked Diamond, raising his bottom slightly from his chair to lean forward and brush his lips quickly across hers.

He certainly enjoyed it; no wonder Merry had carried on so with all those lasses in their earlier Crickhollow days! In fact, once the weather warmed up again, that spot on the Brandywine would be a fine one to take a lass for some kissing, and perhaps some cuddling, and perhaps a wee bit more.

“Yes,” Diamond answered, her cheeks blushing pink -- but only faintly -- and her head dipping slightly while her smile remained. “I do enjoy it.” It was as those lasses in the books had said: quite a wonderful thing to kiss and be kissed in return.

“I’m glad,” Pippin said with a grin, abandoning his chair to plop beside her on the sofa and take her in his arms. He brought their faces close together and rubbed noses with her, but then laughed and began to sing a silly ditty.

“When I was a wee lad,
My Mama kept me in.
But now I am a great lad,
And fit to serve the king.
Oh, I can wield a sword,”

He closed his eyes briefly and pressed his lips firmly against the center of Diamond’s.

“And I can carry a pipe.”

He kissed her again, parting his lips this time to run his tongue along her mouth.

“And I can kiss a bonny lass--”

Pippin shifted Diamond’s position a bit and cocked an eye over her shoulder to check on the mantel clock.

“--at ten o’clock at night!”*

He closed his eyes again and pulled Diamond tightly into his arms, kissing her deeply. Pippin’s hand began to move along her shoulder blades, then traveled over the top of her shoulder, and moved toward the front of her bodice.

Diamond stiffened. A short, surprised gasp puffed into Pippin’s mouth.

He took both hands away and sat back, staring at the uncertainty he saw in his wife.

Diamond, dismayed, regarded her hobbit take on again a bit of the melancholy mien she had seen around Yule.

“Right,” Pippin said, running a hand backward through his curls. “I suppose we ought to finish this game, then.” He leaned forward to reach for a draught.


Pippin’s brow was creased above the letter he read. He smoothed it out before him on the dining table, then turned it to its side as he held it up again, still staring quizzically.

“Is there bad news?” Diamond ventured to ask quietly from her seat on the sofa.

“Hmph!” Pippin snorted. “I dinna know what ‘tis! You’re welcome tread it and tell me, if you like.”

He stood and tossed into Diamond’s lap the letter, which the hobbitess smoothed again before reading.

“Dear Pip,

It seems hard to believe that it’s been nearly a year since you left Crickhollow. I miss having you around (and not only because Estella now always knows who left a dirty dish in the sitting room!)

My father has had me up to Brandy Hall more and more this winter. I’m sure you’ve been quite busy at the Great Smials.

It might be nice if you could get away for a visit during one of these early thaws, though. The river is always quite interesting this time of year, and I recently received some news that I think you’ll find interesting as well.

Love,
Your (older) (wiser) cousin,
Merry”

Diamond chewed her lips together as she stared at the parchment, just as puzzled as her husband.

“Well?” Pippin asked, eyebrows raised, as he stood near her and bounced on the balls of his feet. “What do you think?”

“I think you shall need to go to Buckland,” Diamond said, standing and handing Pippin back the letter. “Would you like me to help you pack?”

“Aren’t--” Pippin began to ask as he followed her toward the bed chamber. “Dinna you want to come along?”

“Do you wish me to?” Diamond asked, turning back from opening a bureau drawer to regard Pippin.

He froze for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably and stared down at the floor, jamming his hands into his pockets.

Diamond smiled back at him. “I was not invited,” she said calmly.


The Brandywine roared through its course near the path Pippin and Merry walked. Heavy, frothing waves crashed into the remaining ice, causing the sheets begrimed with winter’s filth to loudly crack.

“Honestly, Merry, that’s the sort of letter my Da would write. It didn’t tell me anything!” Pippin complained as they strolled. The air was still chill, and their noses were red and running, but the degree of temperature had gone up just enough to promise spring.

Merry shrugged, unperturbed. “I wanted to see you, Pip,” he said, the red apples of his cheeks giving them a healthy flush. “And I knew if I piqued your curiosity, you’d come running.”

Pippin glared at Merry’s back as his cousin walked a couple of paces ahead along the muddy path, itself still covered in places with paper-thin sheets of ice.

Catching quickly up, he asked, “And why couldna you have come to the Smials, then?”

Merry’s bright face grew slightly shadowed as he shuffled a few steps ahead.

“Merry?” Pippin asked, concerned. “Merry? Why not? Is something wrong?”

Merry turned back to confront him then. “I didn’t want to see you with that Diamond-lass hanging about!” he burst forth. “I wanted to see my Pippin all on his own,” Merry stepped toward Pippin in the middle of this sentence and embraced the younger hobbit in a hug, “and to see that he is all right.”

“Of course I’m all right, Merry; why wouldna I be?” Pippin asked from within the circle of Merry’s arms, but his cousin ignored him and continued his speech.

“You said when you married her that you intended to be happy, Pip,” Merry said, pulling back slightly to place his hands on Pippin’s shoulders and look into those green eyes. “Are you happy?”

Pippin hesitated, his thoughts in turmoil at the answer to this question. He was happier than he had been before with Diamond, it seemed, and yet... He shifted his eyes from Merry’s face to stare at the river. A mighty wave chose that moment to cleave ice apart with a resounding crack.

“Oh, Pip,” Merry said in a voice full of resignation and pity as the loud noise faded away.

Pippin shook himself back into the moment and tried to grin at Merry.

“Now, cousin, ‘tisn’t as bad as all that!” he said. “I quite like having her about sometimes, and she’s quite pretty, and she’s really not a bad sort, and we do have some fun together, and...and,” Pippin trailed off as he saw Merry, who had moved back to stand on the other side of the path, shaking his head.

“Really!” Pippin exclaimed, then frowned, although it was mostly to himself. “It’s just -- just -- I dinna know!” He bent to pry out a stone that was lodged in the mud, then hurled it toward the river.

The stone’s arc completed, Pippin turned back to his cousin and attempted to look cheerful again. “Anyway, Merry, this interesting news of yours: what ‘tis it?”

“Oh,” Merry composed himself into a study of nonchalance as he began to walk the path again. “I’ve heard from Aragorn.”

Pippin whooped, and took a few running steps to catch up with his cousin. “What? You did? When? What did he say? Why didn’t he send me a letter as well? Well?”

Pippin stopped, his hands on his hips as he blocked the path in front of Merry, who was now giggling.

“Oh, Pip,” he guffawed. “I expect he thought it more likely that I would go from Buckland to Bree, as was indeed the case when Da and I rode in earlier this month for some of the Solmath spring merchandise. Old Butterbur gave me the letter then.”

“Butterbur!” exclaimed Pippin, then added wickedly, “So how long had this missive been sitting upon his shelf?”

Merry snickered in return. “Not too long, I think, although Strider did include in it an edict that he drafted up last year.” Merry sobered as he informed Pippin, “He asked me to pass its contents along to you and Sam -- well, to your Da, really, but you’d do just as well, was my thought--”

“What does the edict say?” Pippin asked, his tone reflecting Merry’s somber mood.

“He’s banned Men from the Shire,” Merry stated flatly.

Both he and Pippin gazed for a moment at the river, the comforting Brandywine along the outskirts of the Shire, which flowed to far lands where it became the Baranduin and traversed shores peopled with Big Folk who were both good and evil.

“That’s probably for the best, then,” Pippin said at last. He added cheekily, “Did you make Sam come all the way out here for this message, too?”

“Harrumph!” Merry snorted. “I’ll have you know I wrote him a nice letter and posted it just after I got word you were coming.”

“Oh,” Pippin laughed over his shoulder as he walked ahead. “So it’s just me that’s to be treated to this news in the magnificence of your presence.”

“Indeed,” Merry agreed unflappably as he followed. “Pip,” he called out a moment later, a new concern having crossed his mind. “You know, don’t you, that among you, me and Sam, there’s no way I’d want to let either of you down?”

“Of course,” Pippin turned to grin fondly at Merry as he walked backward on the path. “I’m sure we all feel the same way.”

Turning to face forward again, he asked, “So did Strider have any other news?”

“Actually,” and Merry’s slowness in bringing forth anything more of a response caused Pippin to cast a couple of quick glances over his shoulder, “he extended an invitation.”

“An invitation?” Pippin breathed out, having stopped upon the path.

“To visit him and Queen Arwen in Minas Tirith,” Merry elaborated. “I thought perhaps we could go this summer, as our fathers are still hale and soon, well...” He left the thought unfinished.

Pippin, farther ahead on the path, still had his back toward Merry, so the Brandybuck did not see the shadow pass in turn over the younger cousin’s face at these words.

“Pip?” Merry said into the silence. “What do you think? Is it bringing that Diamond-lass along, or what she’ll say, that you’re worried about? Because--”

“Merry,” Pippin interrupted, glad for the distraction from his thoughts. “You shouldna call her such,” he said, turning to face Merry again. “She is my wife,” he continued as he began walking backward once more along the path.

“She--oof!” he cried out as one ankle slipped into a hole created when the ice on a mud puddle broke. Pippin’s leg twisted away from him, tossing him onto his rump on the cold ground.


“How is he?” Estella asked as Merry reentered the corridor from Pippin’s room. Both Brandybucks looked weary as the first shafts of light streamed through the windows.

“About the same,” Merry shrugged and then yawned. “Won’t let me call a healer down from Brandy Hall, says it’s not as bad as all that, but keeps asking for Diamond. He hasn’t slept much,” Merry added, and yawned again himself.

“You know, Merry--” Estella began, only to have that hobbit cut her off with a groan.

“Please don’t start that again!” he said sharply. “You’ve said it already last evening and again when you brought tea in the night.”

“Well, it’s just that--” Estella started.

“Estella!” Merry snapped loudly, and flushed a guilty look at the door as a groan came from Pippin’s bedroom after the noise. “We’ll talk about it later, all right?” he said in a more subdued tone.

Estella nodded curtly back and headed to the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast. At least she would have more ammunition for her argument. Estella had been contending that they ought to remove to Brandy Hall for a while now. It was too unreliable to count on a healer seeing or hearing a signal from Crickhollow, when at the Hall they could be summoned instantly -- a much better situation from which to start a family, she felt.

Merry, though, was resisting the change. It had taken him quite a few months to adapt to Pippin’s absence from Crickhollow. Estella suspected that, even now, her husband would be happy to see his cousin return to live with them and for things to continue on as they had been.

She sighed as she set Merry’s porridge in front of him on the table, squeezing his shoulder to show she was not angry.

“So, do you expect Diamond to come?” she asked as she sat across from him with her own bowl.

Merry gave her a look above his spoon.

“All right,” Estella answered with exasperation, “when do you expect Diamond to come?”

Merry swallowed and dabbed at his face with a napkin before taking a swallow of his tea and working through the answer.

“Well, the servant who answered my horn-call late yesterday would have had to take the message back to the Hall, and pass it on to someone who was to ride to the Great Smials. Even if that hobbit rode cross-country through the night, and fast, he wouldn’t get there before this morning.

“Then he’d have to relay the message to Diamond, and she’d have to pack something, I’m sure, and then she’d not be likely to travel so swift, either. If she’s on the road in the evening, she’ll probably stop at an inn. No, I don’t think we can reasonably expect her before some time tomorrow.” Merry took a decisive sip of his tea.

“Why do you suppose he wants her here, anyway?” Estella grumbled as she rose to collect her bowl and spoon some porridge into a smaller vessel to be put on a tray for Pippin.

Merry shook his head over his mug of tea. “There’s just no reasoning with him if he gets his mind set on something when he’s ill,” he said.

“But you’ve said yourself that he isn’t hurt that bad!” Estella said, the exasperation reaching her voice again as she turned from the counter, hands on her hips, to stare at Merry. “It’s likely nothing more than a sprained ankle.”

Merry’s eyes grew haunted and he absently rubbed at his right arm, causing Estella to shiver inwardly, as he shook his head.

She thought he wouldn’t answer as he lifted his tea mug and swallowed again, but he put it down and spoke now, glancing once at the paper calendar that hung neatly upon a nail in the kitchen.

“It’s the leg he injured during the War,” Merry said. “It always aggravates Pippin some, and this just made it worse. Plus, it’s brought back other things as well, I think, especially with the dates coming on as they are.”

He looked soberly at his wife, as she stood in their kitchen in the Shire he and Pippin had fought to protect.

“Pippin’s deeds in the War were just as great, and as valorous, as you seem to think my own,” he told her with a touch of irony. In utter seriousness, then, his eyes shifted from her to stare out the window in the direction. “And for such blows, Aragorn’s love was our reward,” Merry whispered.


“Hunh?” Merry started awake from his chair late that evening as he heard the insistent knocking at the door. Estella had sat with Pippin some during the day while he slept, but his nap had not lasted long, and both Brandybucks were anticipating another tiring night.

Pippin was not as ill as he had been at other times during his young life, Merry knew, but he was fretful, restless, and in pain. Those who watched with him did not have a restful time either.

“Coming!” he shouted to the door as he approached it. Estella, who had retired early, poked her head out of their bedroom door and stifled a yawn.

“Yes, who is--Diamond!” Merry exclaimed in surprise as he unlocked and opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

The young Mistress Took, so confident in her knocks a moment before, now looked uncertain. “The message said that Pippin had sent for me?” she answered in a questioning tone.

“Yes, yes of course he did,” Merry shook his curls and stepped back to let Diamond into the smial. He could see, beyond her, the movement of a lantern at the stable. “It’s just that, with the travel involved, we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“My husband required me,” Diamond stated simply as Merry and Estella watched her push back the hood of her cloak. “I came as soon as I heard word.”

Merry led Diamond back to Pippin’s old room, the same where she had stayed on the earlier visit, while Estella quickly re-dressed and set out some tea and biscuits for the maid Trefoil, who had accompanied Diamond from the Smials for propriety’s sake.

Geranium wished she could have gone herself, but both she and Bluebell had given the tweenager stern instructions about knowing her place. Of course, that lass wasn’t a flibbertigibbet like the dismissed kitchen lasses had been, but it paid to be careful. If the visiting Bucklander, headed home to his wife and family, who happened to know the back-country way to Crickhollow and would serve as Diamond’s escort -- if he thought the Tooks had taken a turn for the taciturn in the young Mistress and her servant; well, then, so be it.

“Diamond,” Pippin groaned again as Merry opened the bedroom door.

“Yes, husband,” that lass answered immediately, stepping over the threshold in front of Merry.

Pippin startled in the dim room, surprised at the response.

“Diamond?” he repeated again, this time in wonder.

“Yes, Pippin, I am here,” she answered as she crossed the room to sit upon the edge of the bed and, feeling herself compelled to do so, place a kiss upon his forehead.

Pippin, exhausted from a nearly sleepless past night and day, could hardly think straight. His ankle was swollen; his leg throbbed; and other pains, both present and remembered, shot through his body.

“Diamond,” he whispered as he gritted his teeth and shifted his leg. “Fix it.”

Diamond smoothed Pippin’s curls back from his forehead, then poked gently at the swollen ankle before looking up at Merry, who still stood in the light of the doorway.

“Could you bring me some tea, please?” she asked politely. “And have you any arnica liniment?” she added as he turned to go.

“Aye,” Merry answered shortly, “It’s next to the chair.” Did the lass think they’d been doing nothing for Pippin? “What kind of tea should it be?” he asked aloud.

Diamond nodded in satisfaction as she spotted the liniment. She would not have to wait for her valise to be brought in to apply the arnica to Pippin’s swollen ankle. To the question of the tea, she responded, “It does not particularly matter which kind, so long as it is hot.”

As Merry padded off to fetch the tea, Diamond finished removing her cloak. She then glanced at Pippin, now tossing restlessly in the bed again, and then stepped into the shadows of the room to loosen the stays on her bodice.

She had suspected, when she received Merry’s message that Pippin had injured his leg and was asking for her, that her husband’s sleep might require aid. And, given the interest he had startled by expressing before he left the Smials on this trip -- well, she wanted to make him happy.

Diamond withdrew from the small bag she carried a sachet she had made and filled with dried lavender, rose petals, chamomile and hops. She turned her back to the bed to drop it down her dress into the center of her bosom, adjusting its fit.

Then Diamond turned back and crawled into bed with her husband, gently placing his head onto her chest where the sleep pillow lay.

Merry returned with a steaming mug of tea to find Diamond and Pippin both under the covers, she leaning half-recumbent upon the pillows, while his cousin’s head, in turn, was pillowed upon Diamond’s bosom.

“Er. Here’s the tea,” Merry said from the doorway. He noted that Pippin’s fidgeting seemed to have slowed, and his breath seemed to be calming.

“Thank you,” Diamond said, and reached out so that Merry came closer to put the mug into her hand. She took a swallow and smiled appreciatively. “It was a cold ride.” After a second sip, she added, “You may go now. I believe we shall be fine for the night.”

Merry could not help the mixed emotions he felt as he walked toward his own bedroom. It was no longer him taking care of his Pip; that Diamond-lass had taken his place. The same lass who had made Pippin so miserable when he wed. And yet...

And yet, she had already succeeded in calming him much more than Merry could; in fact, the hobbit looked to be almost peacefully asleep already! Perhaps there was something to Pippin’s stubborn requests for Diamond, and his insistence on her good qualities as the two cousins walked and talked. Perhaps Diamond was indeed good for Pippin. Perhaps.


_________
*Traditional nursery rhyme, adapted.

Chapter Fourteen: A Girl’s Best Friend

Mmm. Pippin’s nose twitched slightly as he began to wake. Something smelled rather nice, then. His face was lying on something rather soft, too.

“Ah.” A short little sigh escaped him as his eyes blinked open. Immediately, they became round as saucers with the sight that greeted him: the curve of his wife’s bosom.

Pippin instantly stilled any further movements -- except for his eyes. Those, he cautiously raised to peer through his lashes at Diamond’s face, but his curls blocked most of the view. Well, she hadn’t moved at all, nor had she said anything; so likely she was still asleep. He would just lie here quietly for a while and enjoy the view.

Pippin’s eyes had become a tad unfocused again as he allowed himself to drift into daydreams inspired by the fabric stretched taut before his face and the softness beneath his cheek.

Diamond softly cleared her throat before speaking, and Pippin jumped.

He pushed himself up so that the flats of his hands on the bed sheets supported his torso, and blushed as he looked at his wife. “Er, good morning, Diamond,” he said awkwardly.

“Good morning, Pippin,” she responded, then continued calmly on with the thought she had originally been about to voice. “Are you feeling better today?”

Pippin, who had for a few moments forgotten the circumstances of their presence in this room, cocked his head to the side as he took stock. “Why -- yes!” he said in a surprised yet deeply satisfied tone. “And I suppose I have you to thank for it!” He looked at her in admiration, once again, of her healing skills. Pippin was a bit vague on the details of the preceding day, but he did remember asking for Diamond because he knew she could help him feel better -- and she had!

Diamond blushed slightly in response to the praise, and bit her lip as she tilted her face down toward her chest, but she was smiling.

“Only -- er,” Pippin was suddenly awkward again. “I’m sorry about how I woke up this morning -- I mean, the position you were in; I mean, where my head was.” He flushed again. “I--I know you dinna like it to be touched there.” He cast his eyes onto the coverlet and began picking at a thread.

Diamond sighed. “Whyever do you think you should have need to apologize?” she asked. “I placed your head there; it is an excellent way to deliver medicine.”

“You did?” Pippin asked stupidly as Diamond reached into her bodice and withdrew the sachet, showing it to him before setting it aside on the pillows.

“And -- husband,” she added, and it was Diamond’s turn to shift awkwardly, her eyes lowered. “You told me once that, as your wife, I might look upon you, and touch, as I wish. I daresay that, as my husband, you should be able to do the same.”

Pippin, propped upon his elbows now, was staring slack-jawed, his eyes going round again, as Diamond continued with a small smile.

“It is just, you see,” she said with her eyes cast demurely down, “that sometimes you surprise me.”


The late-season snowfall which had developed during the night would have kept the hobbits within the walls of Crickhollow that day even if Pippin hadn’t been hobbling along, clutching at the backs of furniture when he walked.

Still, even hobbling, he was a much more cheerful hobbit than he had been previously. Merry reluctantly added more points in Diamond’s favor to his begrudging reassessment of the lass. Especially when Pippin presented to him as an activity the following option:

“Merry, it’s snowing!”

“Yes, I know, Pip, I--”

“So you can’t go out and walk the river again today, either.”

Merry frowned. “Now why would you think that I--”

“So can we play this new game? Diamond taught me! It’s quite fun, really. All you need is a board and some marbles.”

Merry decided to test the waters a bit more with Diamond. Casting a sidelong glance at her, he responded, in a studied tone, “Really, Pip? I thought you’d lost your marbles long ago.”

Diamond merely continued to smile down at her clacking knitting needles. Pippin curled the edges of his tongue up and stuck it out at his older cousin, then relaxed his face and laughed clearly. “Come on, Merry! ‘Twill be fun!” he said.

As the cousins played at a table set up in Crickhollow’s great room, the snow falling in front of the windows, Diamond sat beside another of the nesting tables which had been pulled out, her knitting in her lap. The mittens of variegated designs she had given to Captain Peregrin’s sisters for Yule had been well-received; perhaps she should make some to send to her relatives in the North Farthing for the next winter.

Estella pulled up a chair on the other side of Diamond’s table, and reached into her mending basket with a sigh. This task seemed to pile up so, and it was really something she ought to be doing on a day like this. She withdrew one of Merry’s weskits and began searching for the right color thread with which to sew the button back on.

“Mistress?” Trefoil whispered after padding nearly silently into the room to stand beside Diamond. “Is there aught else you’d like me to do?”

The tweenager had shaken out and changed the linens on Pippin’s and Diamond’s bed and prepared their dirty clothes for laundering -- Diamond had changed out of the frock she slept in into a new one this morn -- and swept the floor of the bed chamber. Other than that, after she taken her breakfast and washed her dishes, she could not see much else to do.

Crickhollow was “neat as a pin,” as the head maid Bluebell, or Trefoil’s Gran, would say, despite the fact that she seemed to be the only servant here. Brandybucks must place a greater store on such things than the sometimes careless Tooks.

Not that Trefoil was criticizing her employers; oh, no, indeed, sir! She knew that the Tooks were grand, and to work at Great Smials for a time was probably the grandest lot she could ever aspire to, afore returning to her Gran’s smial at Tooksank and giving some other lass a turn.

Trefoil hoped fervently it would never be discovered, her own role in that fiasco with the kitchen lasses who’d been dismissed around Yuletime. Wicked, wicked lasses they were! To ply her with strong drink when she’d never had naught but a few sips of her Gran’s nightly cordial! She knew, somehow, that they’d taken what she’d said, in response to their prying questions about the state of the Heir and Mistress’s bed chamber in the morning, and used it to justify their actions. Trefoil, her inhibitions loosened by the wine, had just been trying to be friendly as Holly and Poplar chattered away to her. That duo of lasses had frequently spurned her company in favor of each other’s.

What business had it been o’ their’n, or her own, for that matter, what the Heir and Mistress did in the privacy of their quarters? They were gentlehobbits, and entitled to do as they liked.

And Trefoil, though she knew it was just happenstance that she’d been the one chosen to accompany Mistress Diamond on this trip, was awed to find herself in the presence of not only her Mistress, and the Heir as well, but also the gentry from Buckland. How proud her Gran would be to hear of it! The old hobbitess could keep the visitors who came to check on her enthralled for a week with the stories she’d weave from the tale!

Diamond cast her eyes about for something to occupy Trefoil. Estella’s housekeeping really did not require any any assistance; it was quite admirable. Her glance did light, however, upon Estella’s full mending basket, and the grim set of her mouth as she wet the thread for the needle which would stitch Merry’s button back on.

“Perhaps,” Diamond said, “you could assist Mistress Brandybuck with her mending.”

Estella looked up, startled, and nearly dropped the button she was holding to the weskit. “Oh, no, that really isn’t necessary,” she protested, her glance going back and forth between Diamond and Trefoil. “You needn’t make her do that.”

“Nonsense,” Diamond replied. She set aside her knitting and reached for the basket herself. “We shall both help you,” she smiled at Estella, “and the work shall be done in a trice.”

“You really don’t have to,’ Estella said halfheartedly, as she saw her giant pile of mending being divided into three rather manageable stacks -- two of which she wouldn’t have to touch.

Diamond smiled again as she carefully avoided any of Merry’s clothing articles that were in the stack and reached for one of Estella’s torn petticoats instead. “Friends should help each other,” she said.

Trefoil sat in a chair pushed slightly back from the hobbitesses’ table, working quickly, neatly and quietly at the stitching. To one side, Diamond did the same, a soft smile playing occasionally about her lips as she glanced toward the hobbits’ game. Estella, on the other side of the table, frowned and pricked her finger with a needle more than once as her attention wandered. She, too, was uncharacteristically quiet for a time.

“There! So you see, Merry, my marble’s in control of the point of your star, now, so I’ve won! ‘Tisn’t it fun to learn a new game?”

“Hmm,” Merry responded noncommittally as he studied the arrangement in front of him. It hadn’t actually been a board they’d needed, when Pippin had explained the basics of the game to him, but a large roll of parchment spread out on the table and weighted down on the corners. Upon the parchment, Pip had drawn six triangles filled with dots, upon each of which could be placed a marble, he explained. The idea of the game was to move one’s own marbles across the board in such a way that one of your marbles took possession of the star point which was the “home” of one of your opponent’s colors.

“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have a board, though?” Merry asked. “You could carve out some gouges for the marbles, so there wouldn’t be any danger of them rolling out of play and fouling up the game.”

Pippin shrugged indifferently. “This is the first time I’ve played with a board at all, Merry. When Diamond and I played--” he looked toward his wife, who seemed to be blushing a bit as she bent over Estella’s sewing, and Pippin grinned widely as he turned back to Merry, “When Diamond taught me, we didn’t have a board a’tall. Come on, let’s play again, now that you know how!”

Pippin reached to retrieve one of his gray marbles from the point of Merry’s triangle, and the side of his hand brushed several other pieces upon the table, scattering, green, gray, yellow and white marbles across the floor in a patter of sounds.

“Gouges,” Merry sighed as he hoisted himself away from the table and then knelt to begin picking them up. Estella’s mind flashed back onto all the sorts of messes she was not regularly cleaning up now that Pippin no longer lived with them. Trefoil looked to her Mistress for guidance in whether she should assist with this task. Diamond did not catch her eye, though; in fact, she was shaking with suppressed laughter.

Pippin, still grinning, slightly twitched his injured ankle upon the footstool where it rested before turning to face the lasses’ table.

“So, then -- Trefoil, ‘tis it?” he asked in a jolly mood as his eyes fell upon that lass.

She gulped nervously and raised her eyes to meet his. Captain Peregrin had never had occasion to address her directly before. “Aye -- aye, sir?” she rasped out.

“I see you’re handy with a needle as well as a -- er -- broom,’ he said, naming the first instrument of housekeeping that popped into his head.

“I -- I try, sir,” Trefoil answered, her heart pounding wildly. Gran would feast on such praise, from the Heir himself! “O’ course,” she hastily added with a bob of her head, “’tis Mistress Diamond as directs the runnin’ of things to keep it neat and orderly at the Smials, sir.”

This earnest statement seemed to produce a strangled little coughing fit from Estella, while Pippin turned his beam onto his wife for a moment.

“Yes, of course she does,” he said in frank admiration, and Diamond basked in the glow as he added, “Mistress Diamond has many talents.”

Merry stared open-mouthed at Pip as he stood to place a handful of marbles upon the table, then shook his head as he crouched to retrieve a few more that had rolled farther away. Daft, that’s what his cousin was. Daft to be carrying on so about his wife, when just the day before yesterday he’d -- well, Pip hadn’t really said he wasn’t happy with her. Merry frowned to himself as he knelt upon the floor. But what had brought on this sudden giddiness in relation to his wife? And what in the Shire was Pip doing in his conversation with the servant lass? It was almost as if he were matchm---

“But we were speaking of your talents,” Pippin continued s he turned back to Trefoil. “I’m sure there’s many a hobbit as would appreciate someone who can turn out both a fine smial and a fine seam.”

“Aye -- aye, sir,” Trefoil answered again, growing anxious now. “Thank’ee, sir.” Was it possible that the kitchen lasses hadn’t been at fault, but had been charmed into a compromising position?

She glanced quickly at Diamond, whose fingers had stilled and whose eyes were now fixed upon her unmoving needle.

“Watch yourself, cousin,” Merry muttered softly as he crawled slightly beneath the table where Pippin sat.

Pippin ignored him and went blithely on. “’Bert, for instance,” he said with exaggerated casualness. “ He seems a hobbit who would appreciate a lass with such skills as yours.”

“Bert, sir?” Trefoil echoed uncertainly, glancing again at Diamond. The Mistress had unfrozen and was again deftly plying her needle, another smile about her lips.

“Aye,” Pippin expanded, waving a hand so that Merry, leaning forward to place the last of the errant marbles upon the table, lunged forward to cover the piles with his palms before they could be knocked off again. “He’s the hobbitservant in our part of the Smials, you know,” Pippin continued. “Quite a strong lad, really. Wouldn’t you say so, Diamond?”

“Oh, yes, husband,” Diamond answered carefully. “Bert has been most helpful to me in lifting such things as I cannot.” She deliberately did not look at Pippin, except for a brief glance, during this last statement.

Pippin looked oddly at his wife, who seemed to be quivering after this statement, but he shrugged it off and continued. “I suppose he is handsome as well. Would you say Bert is handsome, Diamond?”

“I really wouldn’t know, Pippin,” Diamond said softly. “I had not noticed.”

Pippin felt a small strum of satisfaction at this answer from his wife, yet he set it aside for the moment. “Trefoil?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“I--I’m afraid I had not noticed either, sir,” she stated. Bert? Handsome? It had never occurred to her to wonder: she really didn’t consider him her type.

“Well, take a look when you get back to the Smials, why don’t you?” Pippin suggested.

“Aye -- aye, sir,” Trefoil answered and swallowed again.

“Good,” Pippin nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the table where Merry was arranging the marbles in playing order for the start of another game.

“Leave the lass alone!” Merry hissed through clenched teeth. “Have you gone ‘round the bend?”

Pippin cheerfully stuck his tongue out at Merry again and began stacking his own marbles upon his triangles.

Merry already had Estella, just as Pippin had Diamond. She’d expressed a willingness for more physical affection that morning, and it was obvious by the way she tended him that she really did care for him!’Twas indeed fun to be around Diamond at times, to learn new games from her and to hold her soft hand. How could Merry want to dampen his enthusiasm for sharing this wonderful feeling with every hobbit he met? Bert certainly deserved a lass in his life, and Pip was sure that the maid lass deserved a lad.

“’Tisn’t it grand?” he asked, laughing, as he jumped one of his gray marbles over another of the same color.


Estella crouched, mitts upon her hands, to withdraw the gingerbread from the oven. Elsewhere in the kitchen, Diamond puttered about, pouring fresh, hot mugs of tea. Trefoil had been sent down-cellar, to retrieve some food from the stores. Merry and Pippin were now taking a break from their games in order to smoke their pipes, and Estella’s mending was complete.

“Pippin seems improved today,” Estella said grudgingly as she set the pan of gingerbread on the counter and reached for a knife to slice it.

“Yes,” Diamond smiled. “I am glad.”

Another few moments followed of an awkward silence -- well, that’s what Estella thought it was, anyway -- before she felt compelled to say something else.

“Thank you again for helping me with my mending,” she said abruptly. “You really didn’t have to.”

Diamond frowned slightly now as she set the teapot down upon a trivet. “Was it not welcome?” she asked hesitantly.

Estella blew out a breath in frustration, resting the cutting edge of the knife against the side of the pan. “Did you mean what you said?” she asked, looking directly at Diamond, her hand still clutched about the knife handle. “About us being friends?” she added as Diamond looked a tad confused.

“Oh,” Diamond said, the confusion, and her face, clearing. “Why, yes, of course,” she added as she reached for the tea cozy. “Pippin considers you his dearest friends.”

“But--but,” Estella spluttered, dropping the knife now so that it clattered to the countertop. “Don’t you remember the last time you visited? What you said about me? At the Hall?” she continued as Diamond again looked confused.

“Oh!” Diamond said brightly, remembering that she had had to intervene when Estella made a remark that could have damaged Captain Peregrin. “But that’s all over, now, isn’t it?” she asked with some anxiousness.

“Merry told me he’d ask Pippin to speak to you,” Estella’s chin quivered as she picked up the knife again and began prying thick, moist hunks of gingerbread from the pan.

“He did,” Diamond said, gliding across the kitchen to place her hand above Estella’s that gripped the side of the pan. She bowed her head and whispered her next words in a tone of awe, a smile upon her lips. “Pippin said ‘thank you.’”

Estella twisted her face and slashed at the gingerbread, dumping it upon plates in crumbling heaps that did not meet her usual standards for attractive presentation.

She carried the tray with the plates of gingerbread to the great room, while Diamond followed with another tray containing the cups of tea. Trefoil, meanwhile, had returned from the cellar with a small jar of cream, and some raisins, which the hobbits placed upon their gingerbread as an addition to the snack.

“Are you enjoying the game, Merry?” Estella asked as she set his gingerbread in front of him.

“Well, it is interesting,” Merry said and took one last drag on his pipe before setting it aside in favor of the gingerbread. “But it could stand some improvements,” he added, as one of the marbles Pippin was setting up rolled precariously before remaining still upon the table.

“Nonsense,” Pippin said determinedly. “It’s great fun. You lasses ought to play a game!” He scooped up a handful of blue marbles, and another of red, and held them out to Diamond.

Handing Trefoil her now-empty tray, Diamond took the offered marbles back to the lasses’ table, where they settled in again. Trefoil took up her own knitting -- not so fine a yarn as the Mistress’s, but a hobbitess always had to have something going, she did -- as the two gentlehobbits’ wives attempted to play.

After a while, it became apparent that the dots Diamond had drawn on another piece of parchment were not a sufficient playing board for Estella, who was also easily distracted by the marbles’ tendency to roll. The concept that she could, at any time after the game started, jump her marble over any others in play -- her own or her opponent’s -- confused Estella, contrary as it was to the games she was used to.

Diamond won quickly and easily, and the hobbitesses’ interest in the game petered out in favor of observing their husbands. Merry, now conversant with the rules, had turned his mind to strategy, and both he and Pippin were concentrating harder than they had been before.

Diamond idly ate from the stack of raisins piled upon the table until she heard Estella give a soft sigh. Glancing over at her friend, Diamond looked quickly at the two hobbits, then picked up another raisin and raised her eyebrows to Estella as she held it.

It was Estella’s turn to look confused, but her look quickly turned to a smile as she clapped her hands over her mouth to prevent the sounds of a giggle escaping when Diamond let the dried grape fly so that it landed lodged in one of the curls of Pippin’s bent head.

Estella’s eyes were dancing with animation now, and she reached to take a tiny projectile herself and raised her arm to aim for another throw at Pippin.

Diamond gently grasped Estella’s forearm and shook her head no, which caused Mistress Brandybuck to deflate just slightly, but Diamond immediately followed that move with a slight nod in Merry’s direction, and Estella brightened considerably.

The two hobbitesses played at this game for some time, suppressing their giggles in favor of grins and feigning intent interest in a game of North Farthing draughts at the infrequent times their husbands looked up. Perhaps because of the different tightness of Merry’s curls, or perhaps because of the angle from which she was throwing, far fewer of Estella’s raisins ended up embedded in her husband’s hair than did Diamond’s. The snow which melted into drips as it touched the warm sides of the house muffled their plops.

At last, Merry pushed away from the game table, satisfied that he had figured how to win at this game, and Pippin raised his head, too, and stretched his arms above it.

“Pip!” Merry said in surprise as the leg of his chair met with, and squashed into the floor, a discarded raisin. “Look at the mess you’ve made of Estella’s clean floor!”

Both their wives seemed to laugh at just this time, and Merry and Pippin looked over to see them rising from their own table. Pippin retorted to his cousin’s comment with, “Me! ‘Tis all around your chair, I see.” He leaned over, hands clutching the edges of the table and one foot still balanced upon the footstool, to move his head and better survey the floor.

“I!” Merry answered indignantly. “I do not scatter and waste my food.”

“Of course you don’t, Merry,” Estella said soothingly s she came to stand beside him. “And there’s no need to worry about the raisins. They’ll be picked up easily and fast.”

“I suppose,” Merry relented, watching Pippin tilt a beaming face back to gaze up at Diamond as she stood behind him.

“Did you have fun, then?” he asked.

“Yes, husband,” Diamond answered, surreptitiously removing a raisin from his curls to pop into her mouth in a moment.

Estella, too, felt a pang as she observed the contented, smiling expressions on the faces of the two hobbits across from her.


“Well, they’re off,” Merry announced as he came through the door to Crickhollow’s kitchen, having scuffed the stable dirt off his feet in the anteroom. “We’ll have our cart returned when they send another traveler back with it, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Estella said quietly, carefully watching the motion of her dish towel as she wiped dry one of the plates from second breakfast.

“Suppose they might hire something out in Hobbiton or Bywater and send it back when they stay at Sam’s for the night, as they’ve planned,” Merry continued. He reached to pour himself another cup of hot, bracing tea.

Seeing the movement, however, Estella rapidly set down her dish and moved to pour the tea herself. She held out the full, steaming mug to Merry, who took it from her, bemused.

“It’ll be a nice rest for the ponies, too, that all three of them rode across the Shire,” he added after blowing on the tea and taking a cautious sip.

“Yes, I suppose it will,” answered Estella, who had now turned back to the dishes.

Merry continued to stare at her back while he sipped his tea, small furrows appearing in his forehead as his usual chatterbox of a wife remained silent and deliberate in her movements.

“Are you all right, Estella?” he asked finally, putting an arm around her as he placed the empty mug in the dishpan. “You’re not sick or anything, are you?”

Estella had jumped a little at the contact, and now tears pricked at her eyes as she shook her head quickly, not looking at Merry.

“No -- no, hu--Merry,” she recovered quickly. “I am fine.”

“Estella!” Merry was dumbfounded, and turned her to face him, his hands upon her shoulders holding her in place. “Did you just call me ‘husband’?”

“Yes,” she answered, her chin quivering.

“But--but why?” Merry asked in bewilderment.

Estella did collapse into tears then, leaning forward to rest her forehead on his chest while Merry wrapped his arms around her. “I just wanted to make you happy -- as Diamond does for Pippin,” she sobbed out.

Merry stilled his patting hand for a moment, the roll of his eyes he’d been about to accomplish turning into a contemplative look instead. As Diamond made Pippin happy?

He moved one foot back a half-step and placed his hands again on Estella’s shoulders, looking her in the eye as she raised her face.

“Estella,” he said firmly. “I have no need for you to act like Diamond for me to love you. In fact,” he added with a quirk of his mouth, “I find it quite worrisome when you’re deferential.”

“Oh! You!” Estella said with mild indignation and slapped lightly at him.

Merry laughed and caught her hand in his, and they both leaned together for a kiss.

Breaking their lips apart but remaining in each other’s arms, Merry’s cheek resting upon the top of Estella’s head, he grew thoughtful again.

“You know, love, I just now thought of something I once heard my mother say.”

“What’s that?” Estella asked from her warm and snuggly position within Merry’s embrace.

He answered slowly, his eyes fixed far away. “That every marriage is a mystery, except to the two who are in it.”

Chapter 15: Lapidarium

The low fire which glowed in the bed chamber’s hearth gave off a faint glow, just enough that Diamond could see Pippin’s rest was again disturbed. Several nights, since their return from Buckland this Solmath, his restlessness had held a different quality. She watched, concerned, as his legs twitched again, reminding her of a description she’d read of a dog pursuing its prey in its dreams.

Her husband, though, seemed not to be the pursuer as he dreamt, but the prey itself. She recalled a tale Mistress Eglantine had once told, as they sat together to stitch, of a younger Pippin brash enough to nick vegetables from time to time from the fields of hobbit farmers who kept dogs on guard. Diamond wondered at both the effrontery and the bravery exhibited in such a tale. The experience he relived in his dreams must have made an indelible impression.

She could predict, this third night in a row his thrashings had awakened her, the course of actions Pippin would follow as he emerged from sleep. She was not wrong.

“Merry!” Pippin cried out as he sat bolt upright after jerking awake, panting heavily from his exertions. “Merry?” he whimpered again. His hands were held straight in front of him, his palms curved in upon themselves as if they clutched something invisible within them. “Merry, are you all right?” he called anxiously into the darkness.

Diamond kept her voice low and well-modulated as she responded to this question. She had sat up slowly, herself, when Pippin rose. “Merry is in Buckland,” she informed him. “He was fine when we left him and Estella, and you have had post from him nearly every day since. If he has mentioned anything untoward in those letters, you have not told me such. Merry should be fine,” she repeated. She surprised herself, also, with a small kindle of anger at the Bucklander. What manner of scrape had he led the younger cousin into, back in their rapscallion days, that still held such power to haunt?

Pippin slowly swiveled his head in Diamond’s direction. She saw, as the light from the fire caught in his green eyes, that he was still not yet quite awake.

“I know you’re hungry, Merry,” Pippin continued in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve got some lembas in my pocket -- we’d better have some. I’ve managed to free my hands,” he added, holding them up before Diamond. “These loops are only for show.”

She watched, stunned at this new development in the nighttime ritual, as Pippin fumbled with the invisible cords that did not bind his wrists, and then began groping clumsily in his half-asleep state at the sides of his nightshirt for pockets that did not exist.

‘Bound!’ Diamond thought. Such cruelty! Who in the Shire could have been so callous?

Blinking back the tears that pricked as she watched Pippin’s awkward movements, Diamond turned quickly to the stand by her side of the bed and withdrew from the top drawer the tin of shortbread biscuits that was her current snack to keep close at hand. She did not know what “lembas” was, but if her husband was a hungry hobbit, he should eat!

Diamond turned back and placed a biscuit on the bedclothes beneath one of Pippin’s flailing hands, where he quickly discovered it and pressed it to his lips for a nibble.

“Merry, you should eat, too!” said Pippin, still whispering, and held the opposite edge of the square biscuit to Diamond’s mouth.

“Yes, Pippin,” she responded softly, tears silently tracking their way down her face, and took a small bite.

Pippin took the biscuit back to himself to chew upon, and Diamond absently raised her hand and ate another she’d withdrawn from the tin for herself. Pippin continued to consume his with desperate eagerness, unnoticing of the crumbs which fell upon the sheets.

When he had finished, he rested for a few moments, then informed Diamond, “We had better start by crawling.”

Her consternation and confusion grew as he lowered himself to his stomach upon the bed, and then began crawling forward, worming his way across it bit by bit, with his hands and elbows doing most of the work of propelling his body and his legs trailing oddly behind him. Pippin crawled in a path that took him directly across Diamond’s knees, and she reached out and grasped to catch him as he crawled forward and began to tumble off the edge of the bed.

“Ah!” Pippin screeched, batting at her hands that clutched his sides as they both landed on their feet upon the floor by the bed.

“Pippin!” Diamond sobbed, her fingers convulsively tightening on his nightshirt as she pleaded--

--and he came fully awake. “Diamond?” Pippin asked in tentative confusion as he saw her standing before him.

Diamond nodded mutely and took his hand to lead him into the sitting room. This night, he made not even a pretense of reaching for the draughts game before which he had sat, nearly stupefied, the last two nights. Instead, when Diamond released his hand as she reached the sofa, Pippin sank immediately down onto it beside her and leaned forward into his wife’s arms so that she could hold him, trembling, against her breast for the next several hours.


Pippin looked guiltily from the corner of his eye at his wife, while his fork picked at the squab she had chosen for elevenses. She had tried to conceal them with powder, but he could still see the outlines of shadows beneath her eyes, and he had seen her stifle a yawn as she spoke with Geranium at the dining hall’s doorway.

‘Twasna fair! he thought, that such horrors as he’d known Outside should make their way in to still cause discomfort in the Shire. The Shire had had its own Troubles, true, but they had ended with the routing of the ruffians, he thought. Now it was he and Merry, and Sam, who brought their dark memories within the borders.

Pippin sighed and rested his chin in one hand, the elbow propped upon the table, as he twirled the fork through his potatoes with the other hand.

A low buzz sounded through the dining hall, and he looked up to see Diamond place her hand upon his arm and lean forward to ask, “Husband? Are you well?”

Pippin looked a long moment into her eyes before he straightened and responded with forced cheer, “O’ course I am. Just taking a bit of a rest, ‘tis all,” and reapplied himself to his food with gusto.

‘Twas no reason to make the dear lass suffer more on account of him, Pip thought as he swallowed and the comments of the hobbits at the other tables found a new topic. He frowned slightly at one hobbit he could see at a table end who was waving his arms about to illustrate a point and letting the squab and potatoes on Diamond’s menu grow cold. Catching Pippin’s eye upon him, that other hobbit quickly wrapped up his story and renewed his own attentions to his plate.

‘Twas strange, this. The fast-approaching month of Rethe ‘twas the first since the Quest that Pippin had not a cousin nearby. Well, he thought balefully, his eyes sweeping the room as he held his full fork poised midway to his mouth, that wasna exactly true. Plenty of Tooks and Took relations filled the Great Smials -- he could be surrounded by these cousins if he so wished -- but nane among them was a fellow Traveller. They wouldna understand.

Pippin sighed again, and looked down at his plate as he swallowed. He felt Diamond’s hand upon his own once more. As he glanced in her direction, a sudden memory assailed him of what he’d seen upon waking the night before. Diamond’s tear-stained face rose before him, her hands clenched upon his nightshirt as she pleaded.

Pippin gasped and had stood to his full height, his fork clattering onto the now-empty plate, before he realized what he was doing. “I -- I’m sorry,” he said in a strangled voice to his wife, and waved a hand vaguely toward the rest of the dining hall before hurriedly walking out.

Had he hurt her? Pippin’s thoughts reeled as he strode quickly through the corridor. Thought she was an orc, perhaps, and lashed out against her? He swiped the back of his hand hastily across his eyes as he walked. Or had he merely frightened her with his nighttime antics, and wasna that bad enough?

“Husband!” Diamond had whispered back in the same strained tone to Pippin’s strange apology at the dining table. At his abrupt departure, she crumpled her napkin into a ball and dropped it, the end trailing into the small pile of potatoes still on her plate, while in the same fluid motion she stood and curtsied to Paladin and Eglantine before following him. “Pippin?” Diamond cried out softly as she took her own first few steps into the corridor. Tears again pricked her eyelids.

Frightened her, indeed! Pippin thought with a snort that was wet from the running of his nose and his eyes. Why should such a lass of the Shire know of wickedness and orcs and other such fell creatures? What need had she to know of--? He stopped abruptly and gasped again, steadying himself with one hand upon the wall of the corridor. The next dream. The next anniversary, he knew of a certainty.

‘Twould occur in a few nights’ time. And if he had nae yet physically harmed his wife, ‘twas a great likelihood that ‘twould happen as his nightmares returned him to the fierce desire to fight off the Dark Lord’s menace. Sauron. Pippin shuddered and closed his eyes as he braced more heavily against the wall. Diamond shouldna -- shouldn’t she? -- know of that.

“Pippin?”

The soft tread had gone unheard, and he jumped at the warm hand upon his shoulder.

“Are you all right?” Diamond asked again, reaching her other hand toward his forehead as the green eyes flew open to look at her from behind a film of tears.

Pippin straightened away from the wall and caught her hand in his before it reached his forehead. He held firmly but not tightly to her palm as he placed his other hand upon Diamond’s shoulder in turn.

She did not speak, but merely stared with troubled gray eyes in her pale face as Pippin’s features became resolute and his piercing green eyes studied her with keen intensity for a long moment.

“Aye,” Pippin breathed at last. “’Twill be all right,” he said in a voice rough at the edges, then slid his hand from her shoulder to the small of her back, and pressed Diamond against him. He bent down to capture her lips in a hard, bone-crushing kiss.

Upon releasing her mouth, he stepped back and away from Diamond. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his eyes never leaving her face until the last bit of physical contact faded as the fingertips of their entwined hands trailed across each other, and he turned to go.

Diamond stood still in the corridor, her own silent tears streaming down her face, and watched his retreating back.

She hiccuped a sob, and as she was raising her hands to cover her face, she felt another pair of arms embrace her from behind.

“Do you know,” said Pimpernel into the weeping lass’s curls as she also stared off after her brother’s path, “that for the past seven years, as Pip lived in Buckland, that we never received even but one post from him between the dates of 26 Solmath and the 25th of Rethe?”

She continued as Diamond cautiously peeked her eyes out from behind her hands to look up at her sister-in-law, “And yet, both Pippin and Merry -- from whom we never heard in those times either, mind you -- they both insist that 25th Rethe is some great date, to be commemorated with celebration in the Outlands.”

Pimpernel snorted, sounding much like her brother when she did so. “Such a time for celebration, indeed!” she said dryly.

Pimpernel kept her arms around Diamond as a pensive look came over the younger lass’s face and they both stared speculatively into the direction Pippin had gone.


“Sir? Sir? Ain’t there nothin’ else you’d need tonight? ‘Cause I could do fer you, no problem. I’m not tired at all. In fact, I feel like one o’ them windup toys Miss Aster has, all coiled up and ready to start bustin’ out and doin’ things; beg pardon, sir.

“I hain’t never had that there ‘coffee’ drink afore. Seems like I could do lots more things fer you if I was to drink it regular -- but it feels like I was lyin’ on an ant-hill, and now they’re a-crawlin’ on my insides. ‘Tain’t nothin’ like ale.”

Bert scowled slightly as he reached his arms in front of him and ineffectually scratched at the prickly feeling.

A ghost of a smile at the hobbitservant’s predicament passed fleetingly over Pippin’s face. As soon as it flickered away, his visage was once again as somber as he had ever been.

The moon was shining cold and white down into Tuckborough, illuminating Pippin’s face as he perched on the window seat of the Grub ‘n Grog inn’s room, his knees drawn up to his chest.

“No. No, thank you, ‘Bert,” he said and turned back to look at the pinpricks of stars in the blackened sky. “There’s naught to do for now,” he continued in a low tone, so that the servant had to strain his twitching ears forward to hear him.

“Just watch with me. Watch through the night. You’re a strong hobbit, aren’t you, Bert?” Pippin suddenly turned his face back to the room and confronted Bert with this question.

“Aye. Aye, sir; you know I am,” Bert stuttered in reply, mystified at the direction this conversation was taking, and at the whole night, really.

“Good,” Pippin responded shortly and turned to face the window again. “You’re like to need to be.

“Dinna let me--” he swiveled his head sharply back and spoke harshly, softening his voice again as he repeated, a film of tears now pooling in his eyes as he looked slowly toward the window again, “Dinna let me hurt anyone.”

“No, sir, o’ course I shan’t!” Bert said hotly. ‘Nor yourself, neither,’ he added within his stout heart, for Pippin had ceased to speak for the evening. Bert knew there were no other hobbits staying in the Grub ‘n Grog’s few rooms this night. Those few who had been drinking earlier in the pub had long since departed at a word from the innkeeper, who had sought his own bed at the home of a relative.

Bert knew some coin had changed hands between Mr. Pippin and the innkeeper for these arrangements, but he did not know why. ‘Tweren’t as if anything seemed rightly amiss between him and Mistress Diamond, Bert thought as he moved restlessly about the room, picking up and putting down a cup he found upon a table, or a jacket upon a chair. O’ course, you couldn’t never rightly tell with a lass. Bert shook his head and glanced at Pippin, chewing now upon his lip as he stared out the window and strained to keep awake.

No; Bert resumed his pacing. There were that funny business in the dining hall last week at the end of Solmath, but he hadn’t noticed any change in Mr. Pippin or Mistress Diamond since then. ‘Cept maybe the Cap’n might be spendin’ a wee bit more time with the Thain since he got back from Buckland this last time, and Thain Paladin mebbe not showin’ hisself in the halls as much or as often as he used to. Only natcherel, Bert supposed; now that his lad had been back at the Great Smials for a while, Thain Paladin shouldn’t have to do as much all by hisself no more. Why, gettin’ on in years, he was -- the hobbit must be close to 95, he must!

Mebbe, Bert thought as he slowly swiveled about, trying to find something else to occupy his hands, mebbe he should ask about the Cap’n and the Mistress with Trefoil the next time he saw her. Hoy! He shook his head. ‘Tweren’t as if he were comin’ any closer to understandin’ lasses with that one. Why couldn’t she carry her own baskets of washin’, all sudden-like, when he knew full well she’d been totin’ ‘em just fine on her own for nigh onto a year now?

He sat down heavily, his chin propped in his hand, to ponder this. Despite the racing of his heart and his blood, Bert slipped into a disquieted sleep. Pippin, meanwhile, as he had known he would, was losing his own valiant struggle to keep his eyes open. His chin fell forward onto his chest as he dropped into slumber.

The hobbitservant awakened at the strangled, piercing cry. Bert squinted his eyes to adjust to the lamplight as he stumbled forward out of the chair and into the direction where he could hear Mr. Pippin making noise.

“Hoy! Sir!” he shouted in horror when he caught sight of Pippin lying rigid where he had fallen onto the floor, his lips moving soundlessly.

“Sir!” Bert cried again as he began to kneel. “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

Pippin did not answer the question, but gave another bloodcurdling shriek and pushed at Bert’s chest with both hands, sending the younger hobbit toppling backwards onto the floor even as Pippin himself leaped to his feet.

His hands were curled into fists at his sides and his eyes were open, but unseeing, as he shouted in a shrill, toneless voice, “Get away! This dainty is not for you, Saruman!”

Bert shuddered anew at the name he’d heard Sharkey had borne before the Troubles in the Shire. Only a tween of 26 he’d been, himself, and safe within the borders of Tookland, when Captains Peregrin and Meriadoc led the ruffians’ defeat at the Battle of Bywater, but Bert had heard some of the whispered stories in the nights.

“Now, sir, there hain’t none o’ that Sharkey around here no more,” he began as he clambered back to his feet. “You and yer cousin done got rid o’ that bad lot, you did.”

“Back!” Pippin shouted, holding up a hand as if to stop Bert’s advance, and then he himself froze on his feet, his lips working soundlessly again for a moment before he cried in his own voice, yet strangled and pitched high with fright, “A hobbit!”

Bert stopped, confused, in his tracks as he headed toward Pippin. Within that space of hesitation, Pippin’s mercurial demeanor shifted yet again, and he brought his hands together to swing them both with intentional force toward Bert. A steely resolve was in his voice as he followed through and connected with the hobbitservant’s gut.

“No, Sauron!” he shouted. “’Tis not for you!” He kicked at the legs of the gasping Bert, and continued to pummel with his clenched fists against the hobbit who repeatedly clutched at them to try to stop the assault without doing harm. “You shallna have this hobbit! You canna have Frodo! You canna have Sam! The Ring must be destroyed! You canna have Merry! You canna have Diamond! You canna have me!

“Stab me with knives if you must,” Pippin cried and Bert saw that, even as he fought, the Took appeared to be in great pain. “I canna -- I shallna -- let the Dark Lord win!” Pippin screeched in determination and yanked hard, his face grim, on a handful of Bert’s curls.

Slack-jawed, the hobbitservant forgot to protect himself for a moment, and a punch from Pippin’s other fist landed upon his cheek, causing a spreading yellow bruise. The Dark Lord! Great fear plunged through his gut. Mr. Pippin was fighting -- had fought -- the Dark Lord himself. That was even worse than that Sharkey over to Hobbiton-way!

“Sir!” Bert cried out in response, taking even more care now not to cause accidental injury even as he himself was jostled and acquired more bruises. “Mr. -- Pippin! There ain’t no more Dark Lord! He’s gone, I’ve heard tell! Some might say as you’ve said it yerself! He’s gone! The Dark Lord is gone!” Bert shouted as he and Pippin struggled in the odd dance that was their one-sided fight. “There ain’t no more of him! Captain Peregrin! Come back! He’s gone!”

“...he’s gone!” the words penetrated the thick fog in Pippin’s brain, and he could feel the pain as of a thousand knives stabbing at him receding away from his body.

“Gandalf!” he cried out as the remnants of the waking nightmare gathered themselves up in shreds and flew away from him, “Forgive me!” and Pippin collapsed forward into the waiting arms.

He raised his trembling, tear-streaked face a few moments later to see the dawn light from the inn’s window chasing the shadows from the face of...

“Oh! Bert!” Pippin gasped as he reached his fingertips up to gently touch the bruising. “Forgive me!”

“’Tain’t nothin’ to forgive, sir,” Bert said implacably and steadied Pippin with his hands upon the Heir’s shoulders. “I reckon that’s why you asked me to the one as come with you tonight, as you made such a showin’ of askin’ if I was a strong hobbit -- you knowed you hadn’t ought to be afeared of hurtin’ me.” He gave a slight smile and a shrug.

Pippin, in turn, however, sighed deeply. “Still,” he said, “I did hurt you, Bert, and I am deeply sorry. I should understand if you would want to call a shiriff, or to change your place at the Smials for some other position.”

He stepped wearily toward his jacket, still hanging upon the back of a chair.

“Change my place?” Bert repeated, aghast. “Why, sir, I ain’t never been more proud to be in your employ!”

Captain Peregrin -- some day, Thain Peregrin, Bert reminded himself -- some day the Shire would have as its leader a Thain who had confronted the evil of the Dark Lord his very own self. And lived, he added, as the victor to tell the tale.

Pippin stared back uncomfortably at the admiring gaze from the bruised face for a long moment, then sighed heavily and looked down as he shrugged into his jacket. “Come on, then, Bert,” he said in a flat and defeated tone. “Let’s go home.”

He bent to pick up a scarf, and felt only shame. Shame for harming another hobbit with a physical attack -- thank the Valar he hadn’t stayed with Diamond the night before, he thought with a shudder as he closed his eyes and wrapped the scarf around his neck -- and shame for acting as a conduit to bring the worst memory and the worst enemy of Sam, and Merry, and himself, back to life in a way that tainted the Shire. He would be the most unworthy Thain that ever lived.


Throughout the month of Rethe, the dreams of Diamond’s husband remained troubled. He mistook her for Merry again on the night of the 15th, but it was not escape he had on his mind this time. Rather, he reassured her over and over again that she was not dying, and he clutched tightly to Diamond’s arm.

When he arose that morning, Pippin insisted that a servant bank down the fire, and he himself sat as far away from it as possible, even though he shivered. Nearly before he had finished swallowing first breakfast -- and with but a hasty peck on the cheek to Diamond -- Pippin had bolted from the quarters to attend his father in the Thain’s office, almost as if he needed reassurance that the old hobbit was still there.

And, in the days both preceding and following the dreams of Merry, Diamond caught sight several times of Pippin standing somewhere with furrowed brow, looking worriedly off in the direction of Buckland. The post that arrived in those few days came not in Merry’s hand, but in Estella’s. Diamond did not ask to read it.

Upon the evening of the 24th, Pippin picked desultorily at the supper he and Diamond were sharing in their quarters.

“I had thought,” he said, keeping his head bent toward the table but looking up at her through the curls that fell into his face, “of going to spend the night in Tuckborough again, for the morrow.”

Diamond spooned a dollop of custard into her mouth, and the silence stretched out between them as she considered her reply.

Pippin’s eyes were shadowed, and his bent frame bespoke weariness as he leaned his head upon one hand and drew a runnel in his custard with his spoon.

The dream expected on the morrow must again be particularly intense, of the type which had brought him back to the Smials three weeks before in the company of a hobbitservant Bert whose face was bruised but whose eyes shone with new admiration and respect for his young master.

Diamond again felt a keen pang of jealousy stab at her heart. She wished to know her husband as well as the servants did. She was his wife; it should be her right!

Aloud, she said, having swallowed her custard as she continued to stare at Pippin, “I should not like that, I don’t think.”

Pippin raised his own eyes again to meet his wife’s, and saw the strength within them.

One crack of a spark from the hearth, and the breaths of the two hobbits, were the only sounds that filled the darkened room.

Pippin’s breathing came in soft hitches as he slept. Overcome at last with weariness, he had sunk into a slumber full of unease after giving his wife one last regretful and apologetic look. Behind that look, though, Diamond thought she detected a shimmer of hope.

It was she who lay awake in the bed, her hands clasped together over her chest and her chin set in grim determination as she waited for what the night would bring.

‘Twas as the clock in the sitting room approached the bewitching hours of middle night -- those that belonged not clearly to the day just past nor to the one yet to begin -- that it occurred.

Pippin sat suddenly bolt upright, and Diamond half-rose her torso, intending to reach out to him. Before she could move farther, he thrust his arm upward in a powerful stabbing motion. The force of the movement tumbled Diamond back to the bed.

“Aaiee!” Pippin screeched in a horrible voice. His now-trembling hand fell open, the shadow cast by his own body looming in a great patch of thick blackness upon the ceiling above. He teetered backward, landing upon his back in the pillows before Diamond could register the collapse.

In the moments after the impact, his body twitched from head to foot. His breaths came in strangled gasps. And then he lay still.

So still, that Diamond, who had again risen and begun to reach her hands toward his shoulders, froze as well in terror.

“Pippin!” she then cried, and turned to crawl desperately on her knees toward the edge of the bed, planning to race to the bells to summon the servants, most particularly a healer.

The first mewl of a tiny sob stopped her. Diamond turned back to look at her husband. He had rolled to his side, curled his arms and legs in about himself, and was weeping so copiously that his cheeks were already soaked, the tear stains spreading out on the pillows beneath him.

“No. No. No!” he sobbed, so hard that Diamond had to bend her head low over the bed to distinguish his words. “We shan’t have lost!” Pippin cried into his pillow in piteous despair. “Frodo...Frodo!”

He gulped and sniffled heavily, but the tears never ceased. Pippin seemed no more aware of his surroundings in the Great Smials as his arms clenched about himself and he continued to his next words.

“Sam!” he cried out with one sob, and then in the next, “Merry! Merry, where are you?” I canna bury you! Merry! Merry!” His voice rose in pitch with each repetition, until it became a desperate screech. “Merry, it hurts! Dinna leave me! Merry! Mama! Diamond?”

“Pippin,” she whispered in return, her breath stirring a hot breeze across his face from where she lay with her head among the pillows to catch his every anguish-filled word. “I am here.”

She reached one hand over and stroked the curls away from his face. He hiccuped and his sobs stopped. The green eyes cleared for a moment and Pippin knew who and where she was. He slowly, slowly lowered his head until it rested upon Diamond’s chest, the tears starting anew as he began to move but coming silently now. He was once again trembling and weeping as he came to rest at last in his new position, and Diamond gathered her arms about her husband and held him tight in her embrace.

“Darling,” she breathed into his curls. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, Diamond,” Pippin’s breath hitched again, and his voice was flat, his eyes far away, as he turned his cheek to rest upon the rising and falling of her chest. She continued to hold him and to run her fingers soothingly through his curls as he began to tell her of the horrors of battle.

“If you had been there,” he said dully, his eyes looking not at the familiar shadows of furniture in the bed chamber, but at more evil shadows from years ago, “you would have seen so many in great pain. So many dead--” He choked and tightly closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and going on. Diamond continued her motions. “So many drenched in blood,” Pippin said, the emotion creeping back into his voice and threatening to overwhelm him. “Face up or downward, one on the other they lay.

“If you had been there,” he continued, “when shields were smashed to bits, if you had heard the hauberks meeting steel -- if you had seen those valiant knights go down, screaming in anguish, dying there on the ground -- then you would know what suffering can be! Battle; ‘tis heavy and hard to bear!”

He broke into sobs again, burrowing his head into Diamond’s nightdress before turning his tear-stained face to the ceiling once more and resuming his tale.

“They -- they showed us Frodo’s things,” Pippin gasped out, his breaths coming faster, “his clothes, and his mithril shirt, and I thought the Dark Lord had captured him and he had won and everything would fall into darkness and Strider would never be King and I should never see Merry nor the Shire again and -- and -- all was lost and--”

He stopped, with breaths of quickened, heaving sighs in Diamond’s arms as he tried to clam himself enough to go on.

“And then -- and then the Dark forces attacked. Their blows fell hard and fast.

“I saw Men and Elves fall to hammers, and arrows, and swords. Gimli the Dwarf, with his axe, I knew, would meet each foe with such prodigious blows, the dead would pile up behind him as he goes.

“But I also saw my friends -- the Men of the Company I had marched with from Minas Tirith -- I saw one be hit by an arrow from an orc. The spear landed deep in his back as he had turned to help a friend. His, his hauberk -- ‘twas gleaming, back in the White City! -- it shattered and split away.

“The shaft went through and opened up his chest and I saw, as he lifted his hands to the sky ere he fell, that his hauberk and both his arms were red.”

Bile rose in Diamond’s throat, and her own heart was skipping pitter-pat at Captain Peregrin’s descriptions as he paused to lay his head against her again. But there was worse to come.

“And then, the t-troll,” Pippin whispered the word, and cried out again in pain as Diamond’s instinctive squeeze of him shifted his leg in just the wrong way, “the troll went after my friend Beregond,” he said in what seemed impossibly an even lower and more despairing whisper than he had used before.

He did not raise his head again, but kept it pillowed against Diamond and spoke into her nightdress as he went on, seeming again to find himself back at the time of the battle.

“T-trolls, Diamond, have hides as hard as any iron, so they care nothing for hauberk or for helm. There are no soldiers more savage in the realm!” he spat out.

“And -- and their cause was evil, and we were in the right,” he was sobbing openly again, now, the words coming through the tears. “And Aragorn, and Legolas, and Gimli, and Imrahil, and the Guards of the Citadel and -- and even Gandalf!” -- he swallowed briefly as he went on -- “they were all fighting for us, and Frodo and Sam, too, in their way, and I think Gandalf, and maybe even Aragorn, too, knew that in such brave knights a Man could place his trust. Only a fool, with such a host, despairs!”

Pippin’s voice on this last sentence was so soft that, even as close as she was, Diamond had to strain herself closer to hear it.

Thus it was that she was close enough for her forehead to bump together with Pippin’s when he at last raised his head, and she looked directly into his green eyes, although he did not seem to see her, as he concluded his story.

“The troll stunned Beregond, and he fell,” Pippin said in that same soft whisper. “Then the troll reached out with its claw for him, to bite his throat, and I -- I couldn’t--” He drew a deep, shuddering breath, but did not close his eyes as he continued. “I stabbed upwards with my sword. And then -- and then--”

Diamond licked her lips, suddenly dry, although soft tears streamed from her own eyes and her husband lay here in her arms.

His monotone continued. “The troll’s hammer swung forward, and my shield was broken and pierced through. And it began to topple forward, and my hauberk’s mail was cracked and split apart.

“I saw just a glimpse of bright blood flowing upon the ground, before all was stench and blackness and crushing pain. And then -- and then,” Pippin’s eyes clicked into the present and he stared at his wife with the full lucidity of the moment. “I died, Diamond. I dinna know why I am here.”

His head sagged forward and his body went limp as he dissolved once more into weeping, all he had left to give from his weariness. Diamond in turn curled herself around Pippin and shared her tears as well.

She it was who stirred first, reaching up a hand to smear the tears across her own cheeks before putting on a soft and completely unmirthful smile. She did not understand all that he had said, nor recognize all the names and the places, but -- “Oh, Pippin. My brave, brave Pippin,” she said as she brought her face close again to his and used a finger to lightly trace through his nightshirt the scars she knew crossed his back.

Pippin stared listlessly back at her, but did not move. Diamond suppressed a shudder at her newfound knowledge of where those scars had in truth come from and how very close it had come to meaning--

“Peregrin Took!” she barked, yet her tone was gentle. “You are here to be my husband,” she said, and she drew him up with her as she moved to lay back against the pillows. “For I love you.”

“Come, sleep, now,” she added, patting her shoulder. If one listened, the early stirring of the servants could be heard in the corridors and, outside, the first lights of dawn were creating a blush in the sky.

But Pippin drowsily let his head fall the last few centimeters to come to rest upon Diamond’s strong shoulder. “Ah!” A soft noise escaped him as he did so and he felt, as the sound left his lips, that with it went some of his burden of doubt and care and fear.

“Sleep,” Diamond whispered again and placed a kiss on his brow as his eyelids fluttered. He heard Diamond add, as his thoughts fled away, “for I shall guard you safe from every dream.”


______________________________
*Some dialogue, descriptions and situations in this chapter are owed to the chapters “The Uruk-Hai” and “The Palantir” in The Two Towers, and “The Pyre of Denethor”, “The Houses of Healing” and “The Black Gate Opens” in Return of the King.
**Also, some additional dialogue, descriptions and situations in this chapter are owed to The Song of Rolandbut.. so 6?

Chapter 16: Anniversary Band

“Uncle Pippin!”

“Hmm?” Pippin responded to the accusation. “Yes, what is’t, Aster?” he asked, crouching down to be more on a level with the tiny hobbitess that stared up at him. Her feet were planted firm and far apart on the corridor floor,and her arms were akimbo, hands resting on her hips.

“Are you better?” Aster asked in the same challenging tone.

“Better?” Pippin blinked.

“Mama said you wasn’t feeling good, so you had to stay in your room,” the eleven-year-old informed him suspiciously.

“Oh.” Pippin realized now ‘twas a bit strange that he hadn’t received more questions when he finally emerged from his quarters in time for tea, but he had been so ravenously hungry that he hadn’t had mind for much else beyond what was on his plate. The tray laden with cheeses and fruits he’d found at his bedside when he awakened had helped, of course, but still...

“Oh!” he said again, as his memories of the darkness from the night before began to clear. “Yes, Aster,” he informed his little niece in a softer tone. “I am feeling better. Thank you for asking.”

“Good!” she stated emphatically, her long curls bobbing up and down her back as she nodded. “Then don’t make any more noise!” She stomped one foot for emphasis.

“I--” Pippin began, nonplused, only to be interrupted by Everard’s appearance in the corridor.

“Aster!” he chided in gentle remonstrance. “You’re supposed to walk out of the dining hall with me when you’re done with tea.”

Quickly and indignantly, the lass replied, “But, Da, I looked at you when I got done and you didn’t wave back, so I didn’t think you were going to wait by the door like you’re supposed to.”

Everard, Pippin could see, was still puzzling over this sequence of logic, his brow furled and his mouth working, but Aster had already returned to her earlier topic.

“Da, Uncle Pippin says he isn’t going to make any more noise!” she announced, and stomped her foot again for good measure.

“Er...,” Pippin said, and blushed as he straightened up to stand from his crouching position.

“Did you have a bad dream because you were sick?” Aster continued chattering on, now placing a hand on Pippin’s trouser leg as she looked up at him in concern. “Did Aunt Diamond take care of you? Mama takes care of me when I have a bad dream.”

“Me, too,” Everard chimed in eagerly, happy to be contributing to the conversation again. “Except,” he stage whispered as he leaned close to Pippin’s ear above the child’s head, “sometimes Nellie takes care of me in ways that Aster can’t know about, because she’s too young!” Everard had a delighted grin on his face as he pulled back from Pippin, who smiled indulgently -- if a bit uncomfortably -- back at him.

“Yes,” he smiled truly back down at Aster. “Yes, Aunt Diamond does take very good care of me.”

Aster, who had caught the words of her father’s statement if not their meaning, scowled a bit as she pulled back and folded her arms across her chest. “Is she old enough for everything, then?” the little lass asked.

“Well,...,” Pippin began, and then came to a sudden realization as he was speaking and burst into a bright, clear laugh.

“Yes! Yes, she is old enough for everything!” he laughed again as he swung his niece up in his arms, kissed her forehead, and deposited her into her father’s embrace before returning to his brisk walk down the corridor, whistling as he went.

Everard and Aster watched him go, and the lass leaned her head against her father’s shoulder, secure in her place in his arms. Everard held on tightly -- but not too tight! He didn’t want to crush her, he didn’t, but Everard had always known it was very, very important not to drop a little hobbit.

“Da?” Aster asked quietly. “What’s wrong with Uncle Pippin?”

Everard furrowed his brow for a moment again, then shrugged, lifting his daughter with his arms as he did so. “He’s just funny like that,” he responded.


“Diamond!” Pippin called out eagerly as he entered their quarters -- to be met with silence.

“Diamond!” he shouted again as he burst into the bed chamber -- only to find it, too, unoccupied.

Pippin plunked down upon the still-unmade bed, the back of his heel catching upon the hard corner of something which stuck out from the storage drawer underneath Diamond’s side of the bed. He started to lean forward to see what it was but then changed his mind, determined to exhibit the trust he’d tried to show her the morn after their wedding -- why, nearly a year ago, ‘twas! He leaned back again until he was lying crosswise on the bed, and carefully pushed the drawer closed with his feet, knocking the overhanging something in.

He swung both feet then, idly, tapping them in a rhythm upon the bed frame, and turned his head toward the empty tray lying among the sheets. Pippin wet one finger in his mouth and used the wetness to help the crumbs of cheese stick as he ran that finger over the tray. It received sufficient re-wetting as he sucked off the crumbles of cheese and of what -- he lifted his head to peer more intently at the additional crumbs amongst the sheets -- yes, of what was definitely the remains of shortbread biscuits.

Pippin thus kept his hands, his feet, and his tongue all occupied as he lay back in thought. After all, it seemed Diamond had put about that he was feeling a mite under the weather, and if he hadn’t evinced any sort of recovery until teatime, he shouldn’t have any duties to attend this day.

Duties. Pippin sighed, then snorted as this caused the cheese and biscuit crumbs to kerfuffle in his nose and throat. Once the coughing settled down, he relaxed again. This time the sigh was only inward. Duties. Likely that was where the lass was: performing the duties she’d acquired upon marrying him.

Pippin licked his lips of the cheese flavor, then winced, “Ow!” having forgotten with the subsequent bite that it was only crumbs in his mouth and managing to pinch the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

He wondered, his feat beating nervous tattoos upon the bed frame, if Diamond would have wanted to marry him if her family had not convinced her of her duty to do so. If he were not the Heir to the Thain. If, perhaps, she would wish to hear more of the tales from his journey.

Last night -- last night she had held him. And she kissed him softly. And -- and she told him she loved him. Pippin squeaked a small noise, and only coughed a little bit at the small amount of cheese in his throat this time, and wiped at the moisture in his eyes, then hugged himself tight as he continued to vigorously swing his feet. ‘Twas hard to believe something so simple should make such a grown hobbit as himself so nervous!

The door to the bed chamber squeaked open, and Pippin sat up hastily, brushing at his shirt front in case any more crumbs had fallen there.

“Hu-- Pippin?” Diamond asked cautiously as she peered into the room. She glanced, concerned, at the empty tray. “Are you well? Should you like me to send for your tea?”

“I am well,” Pippin smiled lopsidedly at her . “Come in,” he beckoned with his hand. “You dinna need to stand in the doorway all day.”

Diamond slowly entered the room and moved to sit upon the bed next to Pippin.

As she lowered herself onto the bed, Pippin jumped up and began pacing alongside the furniture. He ran one hand through his curls, and with the other gestured toward the tray.

“Thank you for the tray,” he said, and his words then tumbled out quickly. “And for last night, and for listening, and -- and for everything, I guess. Well and thank you for offering to send for tea, too, but I did have tea, you know -- I went to the dining hall, but I didn’t see you there, but I did see Aster in the corridor
later and she asked me if I was feeling better so I knew you had spread it about that I was feeling poorly -- and thank you for that, too, and -- did you get any tea?” Pippin suddenly stopped his agitated pacing and looked, concerned, at Diamond.

“Yes,” she answered simply, where she sat perched on the bed, her hands folded primly in her lap. “I took tea today with Nellie.”

“Oh, well that’s all right, then,” Pippin breathed out in relief, but he then started pacing and talking again before Diamond, her mouth still open, could add that Mistress Eglantine had also been at tea. Nor could she add that, while she herself had not revealed much of Pippin’s words from the previous night, neither could she learn much of his travels beyond the Shire from his mother or his sister.

“...and then Everard came along, and he said something about Aster not being old enough for -- for some things,” Pippin stuttered and blushed on these words, “and then Aster asked me if you were old enough, and it reminded me and so I wanted to ask how you should like to celebrate your birthday, for you will come of age on the sixth of Astron!” Pippin concluded eagerly, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet as he came to a stop in pacing to stand in front of Diamond, his hands twisting together behind his back.

“I--,” Diamond began, then blinked. This was not at all the conversation she has been expecting after the previous night. Although, she thought as she fought to tamp down the uncontrollable giggles that threatened to escape, she ought not to expect anything in particular from her dear husband. He always seemed capable of surprising her. Diamond was perfectly willing to follow Pippin down any of his paths; it’s just that she sometimes had trouble keeping up!

“Of course!” she smiled softly and at Pippin, and laughed quietly. “Coming of age! Why, it seems as if I’ve already been doing many of the things a grown hobbitess ought. It feels as if I’ve been treated like a hobbitess who is of age for nearly a year now.”

She smiled still, but she cast her eyes down to her lap, and Pippin swallowed against a lump in his throat.

He knelt quickly before her and took her hands in his. It was Pippin’s turn to look down at their entwined hands as he spoke, while Diamond raised her eyes to his face.

“I -- I know what that’s like, and I’m sorry you had to experience it, too,” he said, wringing his fingers around her hands. “I wasn’t but a lad of 28 when we went on the Quest, and when we came back to the Shire...well, some still thought of me as a lad who was just a wee hobbit, but most treated me as grown, as Captain Peregrin, and they didn’t think it mattered that I wasn’t yet of age.

“But I hadn’t reached my majority!” Pippin exclaimed, and looked up at last to meet Diamond’s eyes. “And you haven’t, either! And ‘tis important! And...and I should like for you to celebrate in whatever manner you wish, and to want for nothing you could possibly desire.” His eyes dropped again upon this last sentence, and his voice lowered, becoming much like the whispers of the preceding night, although without the same quality of fear and strain, as he added, “for I love you, too.”

His heart and his stomach tripped with butterflies at Diamond’s lack of an immediate response, and Pippin hastened to add -- ashamed of himself in a way, but just in case that truly was why she cared for him, “And, of course, because you shall be the Mistress of the Shire some day.”

Diamond, only barely conscious of her hands still retained in Pippin’s grip, did not even hear these last words. She, instead, was stunned by the others that still buzzed about her ears: “for I love you, too.”

Was this how Pippin had felt when she had said the same to him? No, it could not be, for he had fallen asleep soon after, and Diamond could not imagine ever doing such a thing again. She had thought perhaps she had been able to imagine the experience when the hobbits in her books had said the words to their hobbitesses, but Diamond knew she could not hope to be so fortunate that Captain Peregrin would feel toward her in such a way as to say those words. And now that he had, it...’twas indescribable!

“Diamond?” Pippin asked hesitantly, peeking up at her again.

“Pippin!” she responded, and surprised even herself by throwing her arms about his neck and kissing him eagerly.

When they finally broke apart for breath, each pair of eyes was shining, and both were smiling shyly.

“Oh, Pippin,” Diamond said, her arms still wrapped loosely about his neck, while his held her waist. “I believe I should like to celebrate my birthday at an occasion where I may dance with my husband,” she informed him.

“A party!” Pippin echoed, and broke into a wide grin and a laugh, “’Twill be grand!”


“Grand indeed, is it not?” asked Gerin North-Took with a pleased smile as held the invitation out before him.

It was written upon the same fine parchment as the wedding invitation — a handsome calligraphy in black ink, upon a dove-gray background. Perhaps, Gerin thought, this was a custom tied to the line of the Thain. What bode well for his own line, and for the future of his eldest daughter, was the new addition to the corners of the invitation: diamonds embossed in silver.

“And well it should be grand,” added Gerin’s son Ganelon in all seriousness. “If she is to be Mistress some day, she should have all the honor of the Shire.”

“Well,” Gerin chortled softly as he carefully arranged the invitation upon the shop’s counter so that any customers who knew their letters could not help but be drawn into reading it -- and perhaps some of those who did not would ask about it -- “Well,” he chortled, “we shall have the chance to see that sight for ourselves.”

“Indeed,” Ganelon agreed dryly. “Indeed we shall.”


“Pippin?” Diamond said one evening at supper. “I believe there is something else I should like to happen for my birthday.” She glanced at the bolt of chestnut-hued cloth which rested in the corner.

Catching the movement of her eyes, Pippin paused his fork midway to his mouth to ask, “Should you like a new frock, then? Diamond, you know you havena to ask permission for such things.”

True, it seemed a bit drab of a color for a party dress, but Pippin, despite his three sisters, didn’t pretend to understand the ways in which lasses made their clothing decisions. He just knew that they enjoyed making a great many such choices.

Diamond smiled to herself. She had, of course, already progressed on the new frock design she had chosen for herself to wear. If this occasion were to be as grand as her husband wished, she knew the importance of wearing clothing that would serve to favorably impress all the inhabitants of the Shire who would be invited. Clothes could make the hobbitess. Or the hobbit.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “I do know that.”

Pippin grabbed another spear of asparagus with his fork before raising his eyes again as he realized Diamond still sat as if waiting to say something.

“Hnh?” he inquired around the mouthful.

“I should like for you to have a new pair of breeches,” Diamond said, drawing in a deep breath and bracing her folded hands on her lap. “I should be glad to make them for you,” she added, looking down now to examine her hands.

Pippin hastily chewed and swallowed his asparagus, then took a swallow of water before replying with an unconcerned shrug, “Certainly, if you wish it. ‘Twill certainly be more convenient than a bothersome trip to the tailors’,” he added cheerfully, and took another sip from his water glass.

Diamond covered a small cough at this with a sip from her own water glass. It would not seem, she thought, that the tailors of the Shire had been much troubled by Pippin’s presence, if the state of most of his trousers could attest. Except for the clothing he had donned for their wedding -- and surely he would not plan to wear such gear for a mere birthday party, no matter if it was her thirty-third! -- aside from those breeches, Diamond had not seen any in his wardrobe that she thought were sufficiently formal for such warm weather occasions. And, of course, she considered as she cast a critical eye upon him while they finished their meal, he was uncommonly tall.

“I shall have to take your measurements,” she announced after supper was over and a cloth thrown over the dishes. “Perhaps,” she looked about the sitting room, “perhaps you should stand on this.” She dragged a footstool nearer to the light of the hearth.

“Er...all right,” Pippin said, and stepped up onto the footstool, one hand leaning lightly upon the mantel as Diamond rummaged for her measuring tape.

He blushed and shifted his weight abruptly when Diamond began to measure his inseam.

“Hold still, please,” she muttered around the tape clutched in her teeth, placing one hand on his thigh to still him and to steady herself as she used the other to write down a measurement.

“Oh. Aye.” Pippin cleared his throat against the sudden frog in it as he shifted his position back to where it had been. “Wait!” he croaked out in response to the knock on the door just as Diamond, louder, called “Enter!” having just removed the tape from her mouth.

“Sir? Mistress?” asked Sage from the doorway. “Should you like to come back in a bit for them?” She nodded toward the dishes upon the table. “It don’t make no nevermind to me.”

“No, Sage, we are quite finished, and you may go about your duties,” Diamond said as she rose from where she had knelt before the footstool, gathering her measuring tape and her skirts up with her.

Pippin nodded as he stepped down from the footstool, and waved a hand at the table while turning his front toward the hearth. “Aye...lass,” he said.

Diamond, having put her tape and notations down near the bolt of cloth, gave a small frown in the direction of his back. Pippin seemed to be taking an awfully long time to clear the frog from his throat, and he was fidgeting oddly upon his legs as he stood learning forward, his hands upon the mantel.

“Pippin?” she said, and took a few steps toward him while Sage cheerfully whistled a tuneful counterpoint to the clatter of dishes upon a cart.

“Ale!” Pippin breathed out and pushed himself off from the mantel quickly before she could reach him. “I think I shall have an ale with Da tonight,” he informed her hastily as he began sidling toward the door. “Or -- or maybe Everard,” he added in a rush. “I shall be back probably quite late,” he said upon reaching the door, and turned to almost run through it.

Diamond was left with a bewildered expression on her face, her hands fallen to her sides, as she watched him depart.

Sage shook her head once, then resumed, at a mite quieter level, her whistling as she worked. Nice enough they were to her, but these Took gentlehobbits were queer ducks, and no mistake!


“Welcome to the Great Smials, Father,” Diamond beamed from her place on Pippin’s arm as Gerin alit from the carriage and turned to assist her mother, who reached the ground with a small grunt that she tried to cover by lowering her face and her body into a deep curtsy. “Mother. I am so glad you could attend.”

As Honeysuckle raised her head, Diamond smiled glancingly at Pippin and then withdrew her arm from his to reach out and embrace her mother in a hug. “It is good to see you all again,” she said, followed by a clear laugh.

Honeysuckle gazed at her daughter in wonder, but her eyes also cast nervous glances at Pippin, who had stood smilingly beside Diamond throughout the greeting. Gerin, his bow accomplished, chortled a bit nervously and scratched at his curls with one hand. With the other he aimed occasional feeble pats that did not quite connect with the backs of either his wife or his daughter.

“Ganelon,” Pippin said, with a nod to the hobbit who came around the other side of the carriage, the younger lass following him. Those who did not know him well would never have detected that his smile suddenly held a note of caution in it.

Diamond blinked in surprise toward her husband before her mother quickly drew her attention back to say, with only a slight wheeze about her, “It is good to see you looking so well, my lass.” She murmured, “And I’m certain you know what a proper welcome it is for you to be giving.”

Jewel giggled, atwitter as she caught sight of Pippin, and blushed furiously, holding her skirts out as far from her sides as she could to form an impressive bell of fabric as she bobbed into a deep curtsy.

Her brother, meanwhile, uttered, “Captain Peregrin,” with syllable drawn out in response to Pippin’s greeting. He exaggerated his movements as he placed one arm before him and the other behind his back and bent in a bow.

Pippin exerted all the control he could and thought perhaps he had stopped his eartips from turning pink. Perhaps not, though, for Diamond did give him a strange look of surprise as she extricated herself from her mother and slipped her arm back into his for the walk back to the Smials.


It seemed as if at least as many hobbits as had come to see her wed were in attendance at Diamond’s birthday party. The yards of the Smials were again populated as far as the eye could see with hobbits in a gay mood and festive attire: laughing at others’ jests, talking about the latest gossip, shrieking joyfully as they ran playfully about, weaving through their elders’ legs, and, of course, eating from the plentiful food piled upon tables.

“Are you sure there are no others you should like to invite?” Diamond had softly asked her husband across the table as they compiled the invitations. “From other places, perhaps?” She held her breath waiting for the answer. Pippin had not yet spoken again of the strange names he had mentioned the night he told her of his dreams. She was eager to know more, but feared that she must not push too hard, lest she cause harm.

He had sat quietly for a few moments, the invitation he held in one hand dangling limply as he stared into the air. Finally, Pippin shook himself and smiled tremulously at Diamond before looking quickly back down at the invitation he now folded upon the table. He concentrated fiercely as he applied the sealing wax. “Nay,” he said quietly. “No others to invite.”

“Pip!” Fredegar Bolger said boisterously as he entered the grounds of the Smials, clapping the younger hobbit once on the back before enveloping him in a bear hug. “Where’s the pie?” he asked as he drew back from the hug and held the Took at arm’s length in front of him. “You cannot have a party without pie!”

“And well I know it, indeed!” laughed Pippin in return. “’Tis over there, Fatty,” he said, nodding to one of the tables. He grabbed the Bolger’s arm before he could depart. “But you canna walk away before you have greeted the birthday lass.”

“Fredegar Bolger, at your service,” he said and swept one leg out behind him into a surprisingly graceful bow for one of such girth.

“D--” she started to say, but Freddy continued talking as he caught one of Diamond’s hands in both of his and pressed it to his lips. “Charmed, I’m sure. You are indeed a lovely hobbitess and I am quite certain that your newly advanced years will do nothing to diminish that, but will only increase the fortitude you shall need in dealing with this young whelp to whom you are married.”

“I--” Diamond began and then stopped, stunned by this greeting into a complete loss of words.

Pippin, however, was not. “Freddy!” he laughed and gave the Bolger a playful shove as he was rising to his feet. “Go on with you and find the pie now, afore someone else hears that Fatty Bolger has his eyes upon it!”

Honeysuckle sipped at her mug from a quiet place a bit behind the punch bowl. Gerin was chatting with some other gentlehobbits, and Ganelon and Jewel were likewise amusing themselves amongst the party guests. And Diamond... Honeysuckle smiled and shook her head once, decisively, as she took another sip from her mug. Diamond.

My, her lass sure was pretty. Her curls were sparkling clean, and that frock she wore, with the cream-colored bodice that set off a bejeweled brooch and a full skirt with sprigs of flowers embroidered upon a background of brown to look as if the spring flowers were just newly blooming in the earth...well, there was no mistaking her daughter for any of the common hobbitesses present.

Honeysuckle squinted her eyes a bit at those embroidered flowers upon Diamond’s skirt as she twirled in a dance with Captain Peregrin. They -- and the design upon Captain Peregrin’s weskit that he wore above his brown breeches, too, come to think of it -- they looked awfully familiar. Oh! Of course, Honeysuckle smiled to herself and took another sip of punch. They looked like the stitching designs Diamond used to sketch out when she was a lass, before...before they’d begun training her for her marriage.

Honeysuckle huffed out a sigh, the smile fading from her face, and ran one finger along the edge of her mug before lifting her face back up once again to watch where Diamond and Pippin danced to the music of the band.

Well, she certainly seemed happy enough, Honeysuckle thought. And Diamond should never want for anything! she reminded herself fiercely and took a draw on her punch with a scowl. Why, someday she’d be the Mistress of the Shire! Honeysuckle sighed and let her glass down slowly again to look at Pippin.

Head thrown back and laughing while he danced, he certainly looked handsome enough, and she supposed that was important to a lass, especially such a young one as her Diamond. More important to Honeysuckle, though, was his position, and that he had seemed a kind and gentle hobbit in his dealings with her. He was willing to let Diamond have her fancies with the stitching, at any rate; that did bode well.

But, she sighed again, and shifted her mug to her other hand, placing her right upon her hip to warm it a little as she shook out her foot, he had his duties to fulfill as well. She hoped, perhaps, that he would be kind enough to grant Diamond rest between each bearing, as Gerin had for her.

She strayed her eyes to where Mistress Eglantine sat with the Thain, playing some game with the Master and Mistress of Buckland that had them slapping their hands about and laughing rather than dancing. Other hobbits joined in from time to time, and Honeysuckle had of course been invited to do so as well, but she had never taken well to learning such games.

She found, too, that she often did not know what to say to Mistress Eglantine. She had taken tea the day before with the Mistress, and had not known how to respond to the tale told of Captain Peregrin’s birth. Slipped right out, he did, as he was so small, his mother had said fondly.

Honeysuckle, looking now at the towering hobbit who danced with her daughter, found this hard to believe. Wistfully, she looked at Diamond and wished she could recall anything at all about the lass’s birth or the days which surrounded it.

Ganelon, now. She shuddered and drained the rest of her punch, holding tight to her hip and gasping as she removed the empty cup from her mouth. That amount of suffering she could never entirely forget, no matter how much she wished it so or how unclear the other details became with time.

Diamond. She looked again at her daughter, laughing now herself, Honeysuckle marveled to see, as she danced closely with Captain Peregrin, their noses almost touching as she tilted her head back and he looked down.

It’s to be a lad that’s required, so may she bear him a son first, and quickly! Honeysuckle fervently wished, tapping her cup to her lips once more, only to find it empty. At least, if more babes were to follow, she thought, any lasses would be lighter and easier to bear than a lad...although a hobbitess certainly shouldn’t know that from hearing Mistress Eglantine talk!

“Are you all right, Sam?” Merry asked as he swung one leg over the bench to sit astride it. The erstwhile gardener sat properly on the bench, facing the table where he nursed a mug of ale and attacked a plate piled high with all the trimmings of the feast. “With the party being on this date, and all?”

“Mr. Merry,” Sam said deliberately as he carefully set his mug down upon the table, “this is such a date for feastin’ that I can’t imagine anything as would make Mr. Frodo happier.” He drew one hand delicately across his upper lip to wipe the foam away, then began carefully stabbing at his peas with a fork. Failing to capture them upon the tines, he gave up and merely held the fork in one hand while using the fingers of the other to carefully pick up the little round spheres and bring them to his mouth.

“Yes. Well.” Merry said doubtfully, watching his friend’s actions. “Are you sure you’ll be all right, Sam? Without even Rosie around tonight?”

Sam shrugged, unconcerned, and reached for his ale mug again, letting his fork clatter to the table but maintaining the gentle grip he had on the pea in the other hand. “Rosie said she didn’t feel up to travellin’ around the Shire right now, with all them little ones wantin’ somethin’ of her all the time, and she knew as how you and Mistress Estella or some such would be about to make sure I got off all right,” he stated quite calmly.

Merry looked up to watch as Estella nodded at him before sliding onto the bench on the other side of Sam.

“Of course we will, Sam,” she said, laying one hand gently upon his arm as she used the other to withdraw the fork from where it rested, tines us, precariously near Sam’s elbow.

“Evenin’, Mistress Estella,” he nodded to her before popping another pea into his mouth. He swallowed before continuing.

“I was just sayin’ to Mr. Merry here that Rosie did want to make sure she passed along her best birthday wishes to Mr. Pippin’s young lass.” He nodded toward where the pair of Tooks now sat eating at the head table, Diamond’s birthday speech of welcome and thanks having been nicely short and to the point, to widespread appreciation.

Merry turned his own gaze in that direction and sighed. “Do you think Frodo would be happy about -- about that?” he asked, indicating Pippin and Diamond with his own nod while his hand played nervously with the edge of Sam’s napkin resting on the table.

“Mr. Merry,” Sam said, looking straight at that hobbit after another sip of ale. “Them two might’ve had what one could consider a rocky start, as you’d say, but now they’ve got to make the best of things.”

He turned his attention and his eyes back to his mug and his plate just as Merry turned to face him, mouth open to speak.

To his plate, and to himself, Sam muttered out loud, “Even if it were an uphill climb.”

Merry had a chance later to speak again to Pippin himself, drawing him away from the others.

“So, Pip?” he asked. “Have you given any more thought to travelling South?”

“Merry; I--” Pippin wavered, glancing around at all the hobbits in the yard.

“What? What is it, Pip?” Merry hissed in a loud whisper. “What’s keeping you here in the face of a chance to see your friends? In the face of an invitation from our King?” He nearly spat out the last two words, leaning close to Pippin’s face, and then drew back in time to catch sight of Diamond approaching and shoot her a baleful glance.

“You don’t have to bring her along if you don’t want to, Pip,” his words hurriedly tumbled out as he tried to finish them before Diamond drew near. “Just please, please come with me!” he pleaded.

“Dinna want?” Pippin puffed out in surprise and anger, forgetting for a moment that it had been mere weeks before he’d been unable to give Merry a satisfactory answer as to how he felt about this hobbitess. He took one step backward, away from his cousin, and placed his hands on his hips.

“Now, see here, Meriadoc,” he responded sharply, “Diamond has just as much right to see the King as any hobbitess, and she deserves to come along on such a trip as much as Estella does. Maybe more!” he added indignantly.

Merry’s own hackles raised a bit at the “maybe more” comment, but he was spared from responding by the interruption of a gasp from Diamond, who had drawn near enough in time to catch Pippin’s last few words.

“The King?” she repeated, stupefied, her gray eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

“Aye,” Pippin said defiantly, chin tilted up as he turned from facing Merry and toward her instead. Then he caught sight, behind Diamond, of his father’s now empty chair, and he deflated, his shoulders slumping and chin sagging as he informed her morosely, “We have been invited to visit the King.”

Merry again had opened his mouth, but could not jump in to clarify that the “we” likely referred more to himself and Pippin than to Pippin and Diamond, before he was interrupted again, this time by Thain Paladin, approaching from behind his son.

“What’s this?” Paladin asked joyfully, clapping one hand upon Pippin’s shoulder. “You’ve received an invitation from the King?”

“Yes, Uncle Paddin,” Merry said eagerly at the same time as Pippin breathed out, “Aye, Da,” and met the older hobbit’s eyes. Diamond watched the exchange among all three and moved to place a hand upon Pippin’s arm as he locked gazes with his father.

Two sets of green eyes stared forthrightly into each other, until Paladin swallowed and then broke his face into a smile. “Well, then what are you waiting for?” he asked in a cheery tone. “It sounds to me as if you’ve a duty to accept such an invitation.

“Besides,” he winked toward Diamond who, startled, flashed a quick and tentative smile back before tightening her grip on Pippin’s arm and moving closer to him, “your lovely wife’s birthday reminds us that we are none of us getting any younger, you included, my lad,” Paladin said and looked back at Pippin with a smile on his lips and a strange bit of sadness in his eyes. “You had best go while there’s still time.”

“Yes, Da,” Pippin said and swallowed against the lump in his throat, then made sure he had a smile on his own face before turning it to Diamond.

“Diamond, could you be ready for a trip South to visit the King in two weeks’ time?” he asked. “Say, a departure the day after our anniversary?”

“Of course, husband,” Diamond smiled back at him, awkward though it felt to be forming her lips into such a configuration after what she had witnessed between Pippin and his father. She was grateful for the training in such niceties she’d received in the home of her parents. “It shall be as you and the Thain” -- she nodded briefly toward Paladin and a flash of understanding passed between their eyes as well, while Diamond’s grip on Pippin’s arm grew imperceptibly tighter -- “wish.”

Merry looked back and forth among all these Tooks. He was confused. Pippin was going South with him now, so it sounded as if he had got what he wanted. Why, then, did he feel such a sudden pull of sadness?

Deserved to see the King...of course she does! Ganelon fumed. Who else among the Shire’s hobbitesses could hold a position worthy of such a thing?

It sounded as if Diamond would have to leave the Shire to see this person, and that could be dangerous, Ganelon supposed, but after all, just think of the fame and the respect she’d earn for having gone!

He tamped down the voice that said there were hobbits, himself among them, who had jeered at old Mad Baggins and called any tales of his adventures, or of subsequent ones, queer. After all, it was different for a lass. She had no choice but to obey her husband’s command that she leave the Shire with him. And if, in the process, she met such as kings and queens, so much the better, Ganelon decided.

Anyway, it would fall to Captain Peregrin’s duty to protect his wife from any dangers that befell her, and the hobbit did at least know how to stand and face his duty; Ganelon had to grudgingly grant him that much.

Although it did rankle that the Heir hadn’t appeared to want to take Diamond along on the journey South until Peregrin’s father pointed out that he ought to go, and fairly ordered him to do so, Ganelon noted, feeding himself more to seethe upon in his bitterness.

At least, he noted with a smug satisfaction as he glanced back at the clothing Pippin and Diamond wore, at least she was controlling Captain Peregrin’s wardrobe now. The North-Took influence was beginning to be felt. He could wait a while before demonstrating more of it.

Looking back toward Pippin and Diamond, Ganelon nearly walked into Pervinca.

“Hoy!” she shouted as he bumped her, then stuck her hands on her hips and began tapping her foot out from under her skirts. “Watch where you’re going!” she remonstrated.

“Excuse me, Mistress Took,” Ganelon said gravely and was bowing as Pervinca corrected him, saying loudly, “Proud-!” but her voice dying to a sigh on the “-foot.”

“Ah, yes, pardon me again, Mistress,” Ganelon said distractedly, his gaze wandering back to Pippin and Diamond. “I had forgotten.”

“Hoy!” Pervinca repeated, and thumped his arm briefly to get his attention before returning her hands to her hips and a glare to her face. “Are you eavesdropping -- spying -- on my brother?” she accused.

“Mistress, I wish only to know the fate of my sister,” Ganelon said in a voice that sounded wrung with sincerity.

“Well,” Pervinca’s voice wavered. “My brother’s life is not to be trifled with such,” she said quietly, then added, with flashing eyes and a flare of anger, “’Tis not a pawn in some game!”

She brought her chin up and, tall lass that she was, looked Ganelon straight in the eyes.

“No-o,” he said slowly, stroking his chin as a light dawned in his own eyes. “No, it is not.”

“Good,” Pervinca sighed, and the wind went out of her as she, too, looked toward Pippin and Diamond. “I am glad we agree.”

“Yes. We wish nothing more than for our siblings to be happy,” Ganelon said with a loud sigh and fixed his eyes far away from Pervinca, upon a copse at the edge of the yard. “It is too bad...” He cleared his eyes and shook his head, leaving them closed as he finished, “No. Nothing more may be said.”

“What?” Pervinca asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Well,” Ganelon said, opening one eye.

Pervinca, in her eagerness, missed the calculating look in it as she leaned forward to ask again, “What?”

“There is a custom in the North Farthing,” Ganelon said, “that a daughter -- should her husband give permission, of course -- shall be able to return to the home of her parents, and her family, be she married or no.”

“Aye,” Pervinca nodded cautiously. She had heard on’t,she thought, although...

“And what becomes then of the hobbit she’s wed?” she demanded.

Ganelon’s gaze lazily followed Pervinca’s quick glance toward her brother. “Oh,” he said with little concern, his eyes narrowing a bit at the corners, “he shall be free to do as likes, then, I suppose.”

“Hmph,” snorted Pervinca. “Well, it sounds good enough, I’ll warrant, if they are nae happy when together. But why,” she backed up half a step and cocked her head at Ganelon, “why dinna you take your sister back with you when you depart, then?”

“Ah,” Ganelon said and nodded once, wisely. “But before she may partake of this custom, my sister must fulfill her duty to her husband, you know.”

Pervinca puffed out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and sagged as she returned her stare to Diamond and Pippin, now talking excitedly of plans with Merry and Estella.

For all that her Da was Thain, Pervinca sometimes forgot that her little brother would hold the title in turn, and that he had a responsibility to produce his own Heir. Poor Pip, to be constrained by such duties into a marriage not of his choosing, and to a lass he couldna want.

Pervinca’s eyes narrowed as she continued staring. ‘Twas the lass who must do all the work in this case. Pip would — well, he wouldna be harmed, at any rate. Pervinca pushed her own memories aside and focused her eyes to look not upon Diamond except as the shadow of a lass near Pippin, but on her brother.

Pervinca steeled her resolve and hardened her heart. ‘Twas for Pip, she told herself. Her dear little brother. Oughtn’t he to have the chance for happiness?

“So, it shall be after that, then?” she asked, turning back to Ganelon, her own voice gone as cold as his own.

“Yes, Mistress Proudfoot,” he said softly in return, studying her closely.

“Aye,” Pervinca said, and lifted her chin again. “Proudfoot,” she stated defiantly, then glanced again at Pippin and Diamond, who had begun to walk away in the other direction. “We shall wait for such things to bear fruit, then,” she stated firmly, and Ganelon agreed.

Pervinca stumbled backward a little as someone took her arm from behind and led her away. “Pimpernel!” she said crossly to her sister.

“Pinabel!” Nellie laughed gaily back as she led the way toward their children. ‘Twas a nickname she’d not used for many a year, not since their family’s youngest sister was the smallest of the lot.


“’Tis lovely!” Pippin had exclaimed when Diamond shyly presented him with her birthday present.

“Are -- are you certain -- oh, no!” she exclaimed and reached out toward the tiny, delicate green leaf that fluttered with the breeze of their breaths from where it had germinated among the seeds in the portrait.

“Leave it,” Pippin said, and caught her hand gently before she could touch. “It gives it character,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her, the rendition of Eglantine at her stitching leaning quietly upon the table between them.


“Diamond!” Pippin called out as he came through the door of the quarters. He continued calling as he walked toward the bed chamber. “Have you talked to the kitchen staff yet about when we will be -- gone?” The last word ended lower as he entered the bed chamber and realized she was not to be found there, either.

He shrugged and turned to go when the tail of his weskit brushed against a pile upon the bed and he lunged to grab at the things as they fell.

Diamond’s clothing -- a light shawl, for instance -- most of it was, he noticed as he tried to set the pile aright. Doubtless things she was considering whether to pack along. Well, he’d not begrudge her her clothes nor her jewels nor -- what was this, then?

Pippin felt again the hard corner of something, much like he had bumped his foot against not long ago. He reached within the pile of clothing to draw it out. The book’s well-used binding fell open in his hand to a certain page.

“He kissed her again, much deeper than he had before. Clover sighed, glad at last that she had not gone to Michel Delving this year. Her Overlithe could be special, special indeed, right here in Pincup. She broke the kiss only to smile at the hobbit and guide his hand toward her buttons--”

“Oh!” Diamond stopped short at the bed chamber door and gasped in dismay. Her face flushed deeply red before paling considerably, and she hung her head, chewing at her lip as tears pricked her eyes. “I am sorry, husband,” she whispered to her feet.

Pippin, at the same time, had slammed shut the book and hastily sat up upon the bed, his own face flushed and his curls in disarray. “I’m s--” he began as Diamond spoke and then, “Wait. What are you sorry for?” he asked, puzzled, letting the volume rest idly in his hands.

“Why,” Diamond, mortified, nevertheless cautiously lifted her head a bit to peer at Pippin, “I did not wish to keep things from you, but the healer said you should not know.”

“Healer?” Pippin repeated, looking from the book he held to his wife and back.

“Aye,” Diamond nodded and swallowed, the tears now beginning to stream down her face.

Pippin saw, and patted the bed next to where he sat. “Come here, Diamond,” he said softly and, seeing that she was hesitant, added, “Please.”

Diamond gave a small sob of “Yes, husband,” and moved with alacrity to sit where he indicated. She chastened herself silently for compounding secretiveness with disobedience, and sat stiffly even when Pippin put his arm around her shoulders.

“Diamond,” he asked in a voice that hesitated and sought for the right tone. “Are you well?”

Diamond nodded vigorously and then said, out loud, “I believe so.” She continued to look at her lap and not at Pippin.

“Then why,” he began and looked slowly toward the book he held, a possible light beginning to dawn, “why seek out the healer?”

“It -- it was the lasses’ healer,” she said, fighting against the sobs that threatened her. “She said she could help me to become with child.”

Pippin laughed ruefully. “Well, I daresay ‘twouldn’t be her directly,” he commented, and then his mouth fell open with astonishment as Diamond shot him a horrified and stricken look.

“Diamond,” he began again, slowly, “what did the healer say about your having a babe?”

“Oh, she gave me such books as that,” Diamond gestured carelessly, her sobs growing less but her distress still pronounced, “and seemed to think it was a good thing for me to travel about the Shire in your company, but now you have seen what you shouldn’t and it has not worked, and I am no closer to bearing you a child...Pippin?” she broke off now in puzzlement to stare at her husband, who was grinning like a proud cat that had just caught a mouse.

“Oh, it hasna worked now, has it?” he chortled, his eyes twinkling. “I should think that lasses’ healer knew what she was about, indeed.” He looked down at the book again with an admiring grin.

“Pippin?” Diamond queried this odd reaction, pausing, for the moment, her own turmoil.

Pippin had a fond smile on his face as he lifted his eyes from the book to hers and slowly shook his head.

“Diamond,” he asked, still smiling, “do you love me?”

She pushed aside her fears, and her shame, and her confusion, for the moment, and took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said, looking directly into those green eyes.

Pippin’s grin grew even wider. “Good,” he said. “For I love you, too, my wife of nearly one year this day.

“And now,” he said as he stood from the bed and walked toward the bed chamber door, only to close it and prop the book against the jamb where the door swung inside, “Now,” he said as he turned to walk back toward the bed where Diamond sat, removing his braces with either hand as he went, “I think the hobbit in this book has some very interesting ideas, indeed.”

He reached the bed, his braces dangling at his sides, and unconcernedly scooped the pile of clothing onto the floor. Then he leaned forward over Diamond, one foot on the floor upon either side of her skirts, and his hands braced upon the bed so that she was caught between them as he leaned forward, their faces close enough to touching that his breath both cooled and inflamed the tracks the tears had left upon her cheeks.

Diamond could not quite understand why she suddenly seemed more aware than ever of her heart pounding in her chest. She was frightened, yes, a little, of Captain Peregrin’s actions, but she somehow knew, certainly, that she did not wish her Pippin to stop.

“For I think,” Pippin said as he leaned closely over her, “whether it leads to a babe or no, that I’m about to do aught else which, once upon a time, it might’ve been said that I oughtn’t.”

Diamond felt the softness of the bedclothes behind her head, and the firmness of Pippin’s lips on hers, and she relaxed.

Author’s Note:
The reaction to this story has been running about half and half between those who want the sort of details you’ll find in this chapter, and those who don’t. If you really don’t care about the specifics of what happened after the last line of Chapter 16, or if you are not yet 18, please skip this Chapter and go directly to Chapter 18.

(I’ll try to post it in the next week, but I won’t promise -- oddly enough, my RL friends and relatives expect Christmas cards and/or presents.)


Chapter 17: Mining Deep

Diamond tensed slightly again as, just as had the hobbit in the book, Pippin’s fingers hovered above the buttons on her bodice.

He saw, and brushed a soft kiss across her lips from where he still leaned above her. “Dinna be afraid,” he whispered, looking into her eyes with limpid pools of green. “Do--,” he swallowed, and she could see he was nervous as well, for his voice shook slightly as he continued in a whisper, “do you remember your saying tha’, as your husband, I might look upon you wherever I wished?”

Diamond nodded silently, her curls brushing against the bedding that lay behind her head, as she herself reclined in the circle of Pippin’s arms.

“I--,” he swallowed again, and his eyes strayed from her face to rest longingly upon her bodice. “I should dearly love to see your bosom,” he whispered, his fingers still hovering gently just above her bodice.

Diamond’s turn it was to swallow now, against the gasp that caught and died in her throat. For such a well-bred hobbitess as she had been, it was near unthinkable to expose herself in such a way. And yet, this was her husband who requested it of her. Not only must she be sworn to obey him, but -- Diamond hesitated a moment to look again upon his face -- she loved him enough to do near anything to satisfy the longing there.

Diamond slowly raised her own hand to grasp Pippin’s within it, and she it was who guided their joined fingers in unclasping her buttons.

Pippin watched intently as the fabric gapped apart and, as the last button came undone, he looked quickly up at Diamond’s face, where she continued to watch him with love, and trust, and only a hint of anxiety. He blinked quickly back down, and his breathing came quicker as he withdrew his fingers from hers and used them to reverently push her bodice completely off.

His stare was transfixed and he gave such a sigh that Diamond, in her concern, momentarily forgot her exposure and lifted her head to examine him.

As she did so, his hands reached out to caress the sides of her breasts and slide down to the bottoms of them, and his face followed to peer more intently at this long-awaited sight.

Diamond’s turn it was to gasp, now, with the shock of the touch. It made her feel more naked than before, and strangely on the verge of tears. If it had been any other hobbit but Pippin, Diamond knew, she would have been crying for her heart that had broken.

Yet now, it was more strengthened than shattered, and calling to her with a strength she had not known she possessed that she must, indeed must, touch him in return.

“Oh. Oh,” Diamond cried in the softest of whispers, and clutched at what she could reach of her husband at his back -- a very unsatisfying fistful of shirt, as it turned out.

“Oh,” she cried softly again, this time in frustration, but Pippin heard her and turned his head to look up at her, looking for all the world like he did when she held him close after a nightmare; except that this time, his curls were brushing directly against her bare skin. He snaked his tongue out and lapped it around her breast, causing Diamond to gasp again at the quiver that ran through her. Then, this accomplished, Pippin grinned cheekily with pride and pulled back to resituate himself so that he was sitting on the bed next to her.

He grabbed Diamond’s hands to pull her along with him and she, still full of sensations, went unresisting so that she, too, was sitting upon the bed, her torso half-twisted to face her husband.

“Diamond,” Pippin said, in a sigh that hovered between admiration and sadness. His eyes tried to focus on her face, but kept trailing downwards, and his fingers, too, fluttered repeatedly against her breasts before re-settling in his own lap as he worked up to what he wanted to say.

“I--,” he glanced quickly up at her eyes once, for reassurance, before his gaze was distracted. “I suppose you should like turnabout, then,” he said, and his fingers fluttered once in front of his own buttons before falling away again as he continued to look his fill.

Diamond nodded once, mutely, and then found her voice again to answer, “Yes, Pippin.”

She thought he would not answer for a moment, but then he gave a nervous giggle and ran one hand backwards through his curls while the other hovered over his shirt front.

He stood, then, kicking aside, among the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, the weskit he’d removed earlier when he lay upon the bed alone to read. He tried to keep his head down as he fumbled at his buttons, but kept having to sneak peeks at the sight of Diamond, half-unclothed, which he’d been anticipating so long.

His placket unbuttoned, he paused with a hand on either side of his unopened shirt to look again at Diamond. “’Twill nae be so beautiful as you,” he informed her sadly and with his own shame. “I am a scarred and ugly hobbit,” and one tear dripped from the corner of his eye, down along his nose, to drip onto the floor.

“Oh! Pippin!” Diamond exclaimed, brought back into the moment by this sight, and jumped to her feet to stand before him.

“I daresay that is not true,” she said gently, while pushing open the shirt and, as he let his hands fall, removing it from his shoulders and then his arms.

The shirt dropped to the floor to lay among the other discarded things they’d clothed themselves in, and Diamond embraced Pippin from the front, trailing her soft fingers delicately along the scars upon his back as he ran his own hands across her back and then her front, worming his head down to catch his lips and his tongue again upon her bosom.

Into the ear that was tilted up toward her, Diamond stated, her fingers splayed across one of the worst knots on his back, “You are the bravest, most beautiful hobbit I know.”

Pippin glanced up from his suckling and, without letting go, shifted their position slightly nearer to the bed.

He held tight to Diamond, squeezing her about the waist, and crooked one ankle around hers -- then twitched it to throw her off-balance and guided them both into landing sideways upon the bed.

Diamond could not help but laugh even as Pippin glanced up at her, puzzled, from where he continued to intently pursue the ministrations his mouth made to her bosom.

Diamond had grown used enough to the sensations by now that she was able to merely shake her head fondly and utter, “Never mind, dear,” at this latest surprise while one hand twisted through Pippin’s curls and the other followed the lead he had shown in caressing first his back, and then his front.

He gasped again in a few moments’ time as he withdrew himself from her bosom, and sat up upon the bed. Diamond made as if to follow him, but he stilled her with one hand upon her shoulder and reached down with the other one to draw her foot up onto his lap. Removing the hand from her shoulder, he then used both to cradle this appendage before his face, staring at it with nearly the same rapt attention he had been showing her bosom.

“Oh, Diamond,” Pippin sighed as he stroked the dark curls along the top of her foot, “your foot-fur is beautiful. ‘Tis glistening, almost,” he said.

“Oh, but Pippin,” she cried out softly, and started to withdraw her foot from his grasp, but Pippin held on tightly as she continued, “I have not yet washed from them the dust of the day!”

“I dinna care,” Pippin said, and leaned over to place a kiss between her toes. He was grinning as he came up from the kiss, and informed her saucily, “’Course, most hobbits do this afore they’re wed, but I should think this way is better, as there ‘tisn’t any reason for us to stop.”

“Oh. Aye, Pippin,” Diamond said, slowly smiling herself as she turned her head to look at what lay upon the sheets next to it. Pippin wriggled his toes as her gaze fell upon his foot, and she smiled fondly, but did not laugh.

Instead, she reached out with a tentative two fingers of her own and stroked the curls upon Pippin’s foot.

“Aye,” he breathed, and turned the attentions of his own hands back to the foot of Diamond’s which he held.

She reached out to firmly grasp his before it wriggled away from her in the initial startlement at the sensations she was producing, and then she used her other hand to tangle her fingers through the lush curls that grew atop Pippin’s foot.

He had dropped Diamond’s foot back to rest in his lap now, and leaned back to support himself on his elbows, his eyes nearly closing except that he forced them aware, his breath coming in hitches, and his foot still giving shudders in Diamond’s hand as she touched him.

“Do you know,” she muttered dreamily as she played with the abundant curls, “that your feet were the first I really saw of you, Pippin?

“For, here she swallowed and closed her eyes, stilling her movements for a moment, before opening them and going on with both her hands and her voice, “for that day when we were betrothed in the office of the Thain, I did not dare to look further upon you, so I kept my eyes cast down.

“And now,” she glanced up at him, and her smile reflected some of the cheeky grin that was more often seen upon the other face, “I think I like the rest of what I see, as well.”

Pippin made a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a hiccup, and Diamond looked back to the foot she caressed in order to say, “although I did think that such feet must be part of a very handsome hobbit indeed.”

She bent her head over his foot but, instead of kissing it as he had done to her, she stroked with her hand along the top of his foot and up his calf, and followed this path with her head, until she reached the hem of his trousers and, her eyes looking up at his face, she serenely kissed the scar that snaked out of the trousers along Pippin’s leg.

Pippin made another inarticulate sound, and he was moving faster than Diamond could understand, and suddenly he was lying atop her, kissing her deeply while he hugged her, and hugged hard.

They were both breathing heavily as he broke away, and Diamond thought she saw a tear standing in Pippin’s eyes, but he smiled gleefully when he looked down at where both their pairs of feet now intertwined, the soft curls brushing against each other.

“Well,” Pippin said in a laughing voice, “at least any child we have should be well-furred.”

Diamond smiled as well, but she never took her eyes off his face, so that when he returned his gaze away from their feet, he was met with the sight of the dark-haired, gray-eyed lass smiling beatifically at him, her bare bosom lingering less than a hand’s-breadth away from his touch, and her delectably furred foot rubbing against his own.

Pippin swallowed, and his eyes turned a harder green. He kept his intent stare focused upon Diamond’s face as he removed one hand from her back and brought it to the bottom of her skirts, only to inch it up, bit by bit,among her petticoats and underdrawers, until he was touching her upon her most private fur of all.

Time held still for a moment, and they stared into each other’s eyes, and then, “P--” she began, while “Dia--” he whispered, and then they broke apart, each standing silently by the bed as Diamond, with trembling fingers, removed her skirts and her petticoats until nothing was left and Pippin shucked his trousers to achieve the same.

They stood there before each other awkwardly for a moment until Diamond, once again feeling shame, began to lift her hands in front of her to cover her face.

Pippin stepped forward then and grasped her wrists gently to bring her arms down to their sides. “Nay,” he whispered to her. “Dinna hide yourself from me, my beautiful wife.”

Diamond thrilled again to hear him give such praise, and to call her “wife”, and she remembered, as Pippin laid them gently across the bed once more, that her mother had said she should let him do whatever he wished -- no matter what -- on their wedding night.

More than happy she was, now, to follow such instructions as she allowed Pippin to roll her awkwardly about the bed. She’d thought she had been happy to do so the previous year, too, of course, but oh! then she did not truly know what it was to love her hobbit. She would give him anything, no matter into what strange positions he shifted her.

“Diamond?” Pippin said, sitting up so abruptly that she was startled and wondered what had gone wrong. His cheeks were blushing bright red, and he ran one hand backward through his hair as he asked awkwardly, “Er -- um -- do you s’pose that your books have any instructions for this next part?”

Diamond stared gap-mouthed for only a second before jumping up with alacrity to work the catch upon her underbed storage drawer. She spilled out on an armful of books, tumbling them upon the floor, all the while becoming more agitated.

“I--I have not learned enough, husband,” she said with the beginning of a broken sob as she picked up one book and began to thumb through it desperately, though her eyes barely saw the words upon the pages. “I -- I do not read quickly, and after I learned that you were courting me, I wished to savor the pages--”

Pippin had grinned widely again at Diamond’s admission that she knew of his attempts to court her, and he gently pulled the book from her grasp with one hand, the other around her shoulders.

“Diamond,” he said and pulled her down to sit upon his lap on the floor, the both of them surrounded by the piles of books. “Dinna worry about it. Do you know what I have often heard lasses say who have read such books?” he asked as she marveled at the feel of sitting naked, herself, upon the lap of an unclothed hobbit. She shook her head.

“Skip to the good parts,” Pippin intoned seriously, though his eyes twinkled a sprightly dance. He grabbed a book from the floor and ran his fingers along the pages’ edge to open it up at the most worn spot -- and then discarded it after half a moment, before Diamond barely had time to read the words over his arm.

He reached nearly desperately, then, for what looked the most worn book in the pile and let it fall open naturally where it would.

Pippin’s eyes had skimmed the page, Diamond’s following more slowly behind, and they both were breathing heavily again as he turned his head to look not upon words on a page, but on Diamond, and tossed the book carelessly over his shoulder with one hand.

With the other, he lifted Diamond in the crook of his arm as he stood and again placed her on the bed, then climbed atop her and positioned himself between her legs.

They stared again into each other’s eyes, and Pippin reached out with one hand to grasp Diamond’s tightly within it. He squeezed strongly back and, with his other hand, he guided himself forward at an angle according to the “instructions.”

Diamond gasped wordlessly with a sharp intake of breath as a wall was breached, and a sudden pain went with it as she felt a tiny trickle down her leg. And then -- and then her husband, her Pippin, was mining deep; mining deep within her as his face bent over hers and it was the face of a warrior with clenched teeth and persistent grunts as he thrust himself forward again and again, and it was the face of a handsome hobbit who would be the Thain of the Shire, his rich chestnut curls shining in the evening light as they fanned out about his head, and it was the face of her husband, her beloved, her Pippin, his green eyes wide and frightened and yet ecstatic at the same time, brimming now with tears that did spill over onto his cheeks, and she knew it was because he was overwhelmed so with sensation and emotion, as was she, and she could deny him nothing ever and oh! oh! darling--

“--aah,” Pippin groaned out slowly, letting his body sink and his head fall forward as he bent his arms at the shivering elbows until he lay prone against the sheets, his feet still tangled up with Diamond’s.

He was weeping now, softly, overcome himself with strong emotions, and he rolled his head to one side and held out a hand for Diamond to come to him, a request she hastened to obey.

“Oh, Diamond,” he said wetly from where he was snuggled once again in the circle of her arms, “I love you so much. Please dinna ever leave me.”

His voice trailed off, and it was a moment before Diamond had breath enough to respond to such an absurd statement. As if she could, whether she loved him or no! “Of course--” she began, but then realized he had fallen asleep in her arms, and she finished in a whisper, “--not, love,” and gently kissed where Pippin’s curls met his brow.

Author’s Note:

For those who choose not to read Chap. 17:

He was weeping now, softly, overcome himself with strong emotions, and he rolled his head to one side and held out a hand for Diamond to come to him, a request she hastened to obey.

“Oh, Diamond,” he said wetly from where he was snuggled once again in the circle of her arms, “I love you so much. Please dinna ever leave me.”

His voice trailed off, and it was a moment before Diamond had breath enough to respond to such an absurd statement. As if she could, whether she loved him or no! “Of course--” she began, but then realized he had fallen asleep in her arms, and she finished in a whisper, “--not, love,” and gently kissed where Pippin’s curls met his brow.

Chapter 18: Canteen Rush

“Hsst! Merry!” Pippin called out from their place a distance away from their camp along the Greenway. He was crouched down to gather the sticks that would continue feeding the fire which illuminated the two hobbitesses and the waggon covered with a tarp, as well as the tethered ponies, no longer carrying rider or pulling burden for the night.

“Merry!” he hissed again, awkwardly waddling sideways toward the older hobbit while still in a crouching position, his arms full of sticks gathered from the litter of the previous week’s windstorm. “What ‘tis it?” Pippin asked anxiously, darting his eyes nervously about the darkness. “What’s wrong? Why did you want to talk to me away from the lasses?”

Merry stubbornly continued staring at the patch of ground in front of him, deliberately placing another stick in the neat bundle in his arms. He said nothing, though it was true that this firewood gathering had been an excuse to get Pippin alone. He should have realized Pip knew him well enough to see through his ruse, Merry thought ruefully, and shook his head. Of course, he’d thought he knew Pip fairly well, too, but in the last year, with everything that had happened with that Diamond lass...well. Merry snorted, and picked up another stick.

“Merry!” Pippin hissed, right in his ear this time, and Merry jumped a bit as he realized Pip had closed the distance between them. He turned his head to look straight into those green eyes, which were starting to show alarm.

“Merry! Is everything all right?” Pippin asked again, and began shifting his pile of sticks, from which the ends poked out at odd angles, into one arm, his other hand fluttering above the hilt of the sword he wore at his waist. For, while Strider’s directives and his minions kept most of the pathways safe, the world could still present dangers to four small hobbits traveling alone.

Seeing the spark of fear in Pippin’s eyes, Merry immediately felt remorseful. “No, Pip,” he said, clutching his own bundle with one hand while the other touched his cousin’s sword arm reassuringly. “Nothing’s wrong. I didn’t hear anything like that. I’m sure we’ll be quite safe throughout each watch.”

They looked steadily into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then Pippin nodded slowly and removed his hand from his sword.

He brought it up to cross his arms over his chest, one or two small sticks slipping out from the bottom of his pile to fall once again upon the ground. “Well, what ‘tis it, then?” he asked. His mouth had a stubborn set to it. “You got me out here for a reason, Merry.” He started to move to poke his cousin in the chest, but as the bundle of wood started slipping again, he quickly reclaimed his position, settling for adding, in an even more stubborn tone, “Spill.”

Merry sighed, and closed his eyes. For half a moment there, Merry thought he was back to dealing with a recalcitrant Pippin as a child but, no, when he peeked one eye open, it was still a grown hobbit who stared at him.

“Merry,” Pippin said in a tone he clearly perceived as a warning.

Merry sighed and opened the other eye. He was glad he had resisted the urge to tousle Pippin’s hair. It always had riled him up even more, even back then. His lips curved into a half-smile.

“Merry!” Pippin cried out in exasperation, spilling even more sticks as he made an aborted move to throw up his hands in frustration which turned into a lunge to catch his firewood.

“All right,” Merry slowly, and suddenly couldn’t look at Pippin anymore.

He rearranged himself so that he was sitting on the ground, his feet stretched out in front of him and his bundle of sticks held securely in his lap. He traced around the ground with his toes, and watched this motion, while he said, “Umm.”

Pippin heaved an exasperated sigh, and turned another start at throwing up his arms into a movement that brought him next to Merry, sitting in the same position. The edge of his left foot lightly touched the edge of Merry’s right.

“Merry,” Pippin said, concerned now, and leaning toward his older cousin’s bent face with his own anxious one.”What’s wrong? Dinna you know you can tell me?”

Merry slightly shifted his foot away form Pippin’s to resettle it on the ground. Blushing, he glanced at his cousin between words. “You -- you and Diamond -- you can’t do that!” he sputtered.

Pippin blinked, once. Then twice. His expression remained blank. “Do what?” he finally asked.

Merry groaned and bent his head toward his knees, his hands coming up to almost cover it while his sticks rested securely in his lap. He quickly brought his foot back over to brush it against Pippin’s, then just as quickly jerked it away, and brought his hands down to point to where his foot had just been, spitting out, “That!” as he pointed.

It was Merry’s turn then to glare, fixing Pippin with righteous disapproval. Oh, he had seen, all right, as the Tooks cantered one of the ponies out a bit from the waggon, Diamond riding sidesaddle before her husband. It had been impossible not to see, Merry thought glumly, from where he sat at his turn driving the team that pulled the waggon, that not only were Pippin’s arms encircling Diamond about the waist as he held the reins, but one of his feet had detached itself from the stirrups and was brushing along the fur on top of his wife’s feet, with occasional forays further up the portion of her leg that was concealed by her skirts. And Diamond, when they returned from that little excursion, had been blushing. Prettily, Merry guessed. There had been other incidents, too.

“You’re supposed to do that in private!” he hissed in a lecture to his younger cousin, glancing back toward the campsite to make sure the lasses hadn’t decided to come and eavesdrop. “Not in front of other hobbits! It isn’t polite!”

Pippin’s face quickly scrolled through an expression of surprise, then indignation, before he burst into laughter, dropping backwards to roll slightly from side to side on the ground, his sticks falling hopelessly out of his grasp.

“You -- you,” he gasped between giggles, using one of the hands that he now had free to poke at his cousin’s tummy. “Meriadoc Brandybuck,” Pippin informed him with a huge grin on his face, “you’ve become an old gaffer who’s forgotten what it’s like to be young and in love!”

As the sound of Pippin’s last bright laugh still echoed in the air around them, Merry looked intently at his cousin’s face that continued to grin up at him. He studied it closely then, tentatively, he whispered, watching worriedly for Pippin’s reaction, “Love?”

Pippin crossed his arms across his chest and brought his knees up to them as he squeezed himself once in a quick hug. All the while, he kept his eyes open and focused on Merry, and his grin shone bright. He nodded.

Merry waited. Pippin’s expression didn’t change. The older hobbit choked out, “Oh, Pip!” around his sudden tears, and reached out for a hug.

Fortunately, Pippin sat up to meet him, laughing the while, so that Merry’s sticks stayed on his lap while the two cousins embraced each other and Merry sobbed into Pippin’s ear. “Oh, Pip! I was so afraid! That you’d been betrothed when you weren’t even of age -- and then the way you looked when you wed -- and -- and -- how unhappy you’ve seemed at times -- and I’ve just been so worried about you--”

“Hush!” Pippin snorted in his ear. His hands patted at Merry’s waistcoat pockets underneath his cloak until his found the clean handkerchief he was looking for and held it in front of the Brandybuck’s face. “Now blow,” he instructed, and Merry complied, then watched ruefully as Pippin wadded up the handkerchief and stuffed it back into the same pocket it had come out of.


“I--,” Pippin said contemplatively, looking back toward the camp fro a moment before he turned again to face Merry. “I mightn’t have chosen Diamond, if I’d been left to my own to look for a wife,” he said seriously, but then his mood brightened as he added, with a small laugh, “but who’s to say that I mightn’t just have done so nonetheless?

“Anyway,” he went on, still smiling, but in a sweeter and more fond way, “what’s done is done,” he said with a small shrug. “We’ve dug our hole, and now we must live in it, and all that: I love her, and she loves me, and so, together, happy we shall be.”

He looked pointedly at Merry and whispered softly, “’Tis true, you know. I do love her, and she does love me.”

“Oh, Pip,” Merry said, and placed a hand carefully over his cousin’s and squeezed it. “I’m so glad,” he said with the relief of all the past tense year.

The moment passed, then, and Merry withdrew his hand and began carefully arranging the sticks in his lap again. “There’s still the matter of your, um, indelicacies,” he said and prefaced the last word with a cough, although his tone was much lighter now.

“Why,” Pippin said, raising himself to his hands and knees to crawl about in search of his own sticks once again, “certainly ‘tisn’t anything you mightn’t see from a tween courting a bonny lass. Or even,” here he glanced at Merry from beneath his eyelashes, “a grown young hobbit -- one who was, say, nearly forty -- doing the same.”

“Pip, I never--” Merry sputtered. “Estella and I--” His eyes narrowed. “You -- you never heard anything at Crickhollow, did you?” he asked with faint suspicion.

Pippin busily picked up sticks from the ground.

“Pip?” Merry queried.

“Oy!” Pippin said, lifting his head and cocking an ear as if listening to something far off. “’Tisn’t that a nightingale singing in the bushes yonder? I should like to know,” he said, and scooped up a clumsy armload of sticks and walked off.

Merry groaned and closed his eyes.


“I should still like to have seen more of the places from your journey,” Estella pouted, throwing the last bone from her coney toward the fire to watch the flames spark up as they consumed the gristle still attached.

“No,” Merry said forcefully, and “Nay,” Pippin agreed, closing his eyes briefly as he leaned against a waggon wheel.

Diamond took a measured, careful sip of water from her canteen. The tension lingered a moment longer, and then she said, “It has been good to hear more of your tales, though. So we shall meet some more of your friends from the -- Quest?” She glanced briefly at Estella, who nodded sulkily at the correct word.

“Oh, aye!” Pippin said and sat up with a grin. “Merry, won’t it be grand to see Strider again?”

“Yes, of course, Pip,” Merry agreed, then warmed up to the subject, “and Eowyn, and Faramir, and -- and all of them!”

“Will they know how to eat properly, though, in a City of Men?” Estella asked, looking worriedly toward her own plate, then glancing quickly at Pippin and Diamond before turning back to share her gaze with her husband.

“Oy, the citizens of the White City shall know how to feed a hobbit,” Pippin laughed, and leaned over to place a soft kiss next to Diamond’s ear. “You dinna need to worry about that!” he said, and their eyes met.

Diamond smiled back at him, then took another swallow from her canteen. It was hard, yes, being at least a tiny bit hungry all of the time, what with stopping for only three meals a day, plus the bits she nibbled upon for second breakfast, elevenses and afternoon tea from what was to be found in the waggon, packed among the trunks or near the sleeping quarters arranged at either end. It made a lass appreciate all the more, though, what food a lass did have when she had it -- or drink, too, for that matter, she thought as she ran her tongue around the edge of the canteen’s opening to collect every precious drop.

She smiled as she pinged her finger against the side of the canteen to hear the by-now familiar sound of the metal, so unlike the spongy softness of the waterskins they also carried. One of the four would fill all of these from a clear stream, or from a well at one of the settlements they might infrequently camp near.

Estella had inquired about an inn when they neared the first one, and Pippin and Merry had shared a sad and awkward look, and then Merry explained that much of this area had been a wasteland until recently, and that the folk there hadn’t necessarily had time to construct many inns -- although you’d think they would, as they’re on the main road, Pippin muttered -- but, it was rumored, often hosted travelers in their dwellings.

“Well?” Estella demanded when this seemed to be the end of the conversation, and the two hobbits who had travelled before shared another strange look before Merry said gently to his wife, “Well, you see, it’s just that everything’s so Big.”

“Oh,” Estella had said flatly, and so they continued to camp. And, in fact, it had been Estella who had cowered inside the waggon’s tarp at their first sight of a Big person from one of the settlements, while Diamond stared in awe up, and up, at her first sight of a Man, and wondered how such a creature could exist.

Some of the others in the Shire had warned against their going alone, just the two couples, but Pippin had reacted with, “Bah! Soldiers of Gondor and of Rohan we are, and we shall be fine upon the King’s highway!”

“Here, catch,” he had called out to Diamond a bit later, tossing the canteen toward her. “Why don’t you carry part of a soldier’s gear, then?” he had said with a grin.

She looked at him now, leaning again against the waggon wheel, but his eyes open as he bantered with Merry or sang snatches of songs, and her heart swelled again with pride.

Yes, a soldier he was, who’d conquered these paths once before and would surely guide her safely through them now. And while, yes, she might be a bit hungry, it was nothing, she was sure from his descriptions, compared to what her husband and the other hobbits had faced on their original journey out of the Shire. She had been honored when he’d explained that the scanter rations than she was used to were a way of sharing an experience, and an understanding, with him.

And she was also, Diamond had to admit, finding it a bit exciting to have such new experiences as camping, and travel, and she rather enjoyed the opportunity to be together with Pippin with only Merry and Estella about.

Diamond, of course, was not privy to the conversation between Merry and Pippin as they rode a bit ahead on two of the ponies while Estella drove the waggon in which the hobbitesses rode.

“I’ll not have Estella made to starve, Pip,” Merry said in a low voice.

“’Tisn’t starving,” Pippin replied.

“We brought enough provisions with us, and we can purchase more from Men along the way, or hunt, or scrounge, or fish...”

“Aye,” Pippin said calmly.

“What--” Merry began to ask, but Pippin interrupted.

“Aye, the Brandywine is full of a great many fish. And ‘tis close to Bree, for when provisions run low. And hobbits from the rest of the Shire who might be a-hungerin’ don’t present themselves at Brandy Hall.”

Merry was silent for a moment, then said in a somber voice, “We’ve all seen hobbits who hunger, Pip. Estella fled to her relatives in Budgeford during the Troubles in the Shire, and they hungered then, and she -- she saw Freddy after the Lockholes.” He looked away. “I’ll not have her hunger again.”

“Ah, but you see,” Pippin said, glancing back over his shoulder at the lasses upon the waggon’s seat, “you know she already understands it.”


Diamond was, however, privy to another conversation, on another day -- as she was part of it.

“That -- that cannot be!” she gasped as the hobbitesses gathered up the few belongings which had been removed from the waggon for the previous night’s camp. Diamond nearly dropped the plate she held as she stared at Estella.

“Oh, it’s true all right,” Estella responded as she tucked her hairbrush back into a bundle. “I heard it from my brother, and Freddy always tells me true.”

“What is it?” Merry asked as he and Pippin led up two sets of ponies, to be tethered to the waggon both fore and aft this morn. Freddy was known to frequent the tables of the Shire’s inns which held the most gossip, but Estella was right: the tales he repeated for her ears were always those he had made certain were true.

Estella lifted her bundle into the carriage and said casually over her shoulder, “I was just telling Diamond that Blossom Tunnelly from over to Budgeford -- you remember her, Merry?” she asked as she tipped her head far back to gaze at him while she remained facing the waggon. “We see her at times when we visit?”

Merry nodded, and reached up to rub the nose of one of the ponies which had begun to get restless. He still held the reins.

“Anyway,” Estella continued as she brought her head back down to look toward the front and finished stowing her gear. “It seems she’s gone and left old Hedy behind.”

“Left him behind?” Merry repeated, while Pippin asked, “And what’s that mean, then?” He held his sets of reins tight but ignored the ponies’ movements behind him.

“It means,” Estella said, turning away from the waggon and toward the others, “that she’s left him behind in their house at Budgeford by himself, now that their son is grown and wed, and that she’s gone back to her own family’s hole. To live,” she added, so that they understood the impact.

“She said she’d done all her duty by him, and she left.” Estella shrugged, then gently took the plate Diamond still held from her and bent to nestle it among the linens which cushioned the others in a box upon the ground.

“Mother always says that anything queer Blossom does must have come from customs she learned as a lass in the North Farthing all those years ago,” Estella said carelessly as she arranged the dishes.

“Oh!” she startled, and one hand flew to her open mouth as she looked up at Diamond. “I’m sorry -- I didn’t mean--”

Merry cleared his throat, while Pippin looked anxiously at Diamond, who still looked on, stunned.

“But -- but surely there is more?” she asked of Estella.

Estella busied herself in the box again. “Freddy wouldn’t say,” she admitted.

“Perhaps--” Diamond cast about for an explanation that made sense. “Perhaps her family needed her for a time,” she said finally. “Her father might have required her, or a brother...”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s so,” Estella said quickly, then asked, “Here. Here, I’ve finished packing up for the day. Why don’t we lift the box in together?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, all right,” Diamond agreed readily. As the two lifted the box into the waggon, Diamond turned her head to say to Estella, “I would never have thought to hear that a wife should leave the hobbit she had wed!”


The summer sun shone upon the White City as they approached. Unlike on Pippin’s first visit, the ramparts did not appear bleached of color like lifeless bones, but instead they shone with the gleam of a beacon of light, the fullness of the sun reflected upon them.

Pippin had dressed in his Gondorian livery of silver and black for their entry to the city, and mounted Diamond sidesaddle before him on the pony which he rode.

Merry and Estella followed behind on the seat of the waggon as they approached the gate and its keepers, who granted them entry upon Pippin’s hail.

Inhabitants of the City who saw them arrive spread the word quickly, and soon Men, and Women, and children were popping from doorways and hanging their heads from windows to see their first sight of halflings since after the War.

“Sir Peregrin!” called out the clear, high voices of children on the cusp of adolescence. They recognized the livery, and knew that the creature which bore it must be the one they remembered from their childhoods, when they were hardly more than toddlers, and had heard of often since in story and song. “It’s Sir Peregrin,” they called to their elders and, catching sight of Diamond riding before him, many would add, “and he’s brought his Lady!”

Some of the Gondorians, seeing Merry and Estella following behind and recognizing the livery of Rohan, added to their calls the information, “And it’s Sir Meriadoc and his Lady as well!”

Most of their attention, though, was focused on their own tiny Guard of the Citadel, and even some of the adults cried out, “Welcome! Welcome to the Ernil i Periannath!”

Pippin remembered, some of the time, to be dignified and proper and merely nod back in acknowledgment, but in his excitement, he occasionally forgot and would give a hearty wave to accompany his grin, or accidentally give an excited nudge with his foot to the pony, so that it trotted faster up through the winding streets.

Estella, perched on the waggon seat beside Merry, clutched nervously at his arm as they climbed higher, and higher, through streets that grew ever more crowded with Big people.

Diamond in turn clutched at Pippin’s tunic in reaction to all the Big faces pressing close upon the streets for a better look. She was not nervous of their ever-climbing height, however, for she barely noticed it among the splendors of the City that met her eyes more and more with each bit they traveled.

This place was -- it was magnificent, she thought. Truly worthy of a King. And Pippin -- her husband -- why, he was Sir Peregrin to those people! Big though they were, they honored him as much as the Shire!

Diamond turned her head shyly to regard Pippin’s face, flushed with excitement and grinning with the eagerness to see his old friends again.

He caught her looking at him and turned the grin upon her. “Welcome to Minas Tirith, Diamond,” Pippin whispered, and ducked his head quickly forward to peck a kiss upon her lips.

The crowd cheered while Diamond flushed, herself, and lowered her eyes though her own face now shone with pride.

At last, they reached the end of their journey, and a tall, dark-haired Man stood before them as Pippin reined up the pony to a stop, dismounted and helped Diamond down. Merry and Estella had clambered down behind them, Merry grinning as broadly as Pippin, but it was Pippin and Diamond who approached first.

Pippin, holding Diamond’s arm, suddenly went down upon one knee and bent his head, and it was this tug that brought Diamond up short so that she hastily curtsied.

“King Elessar Telcontar,” Pippin intoned with his head bent, “your subjects have received your summons.”

“Arise, then, Sir Peregrin,” the dark-haired Man said as a kind smile appeared to play about the edges of his lips, and Diamond thought she heard a muffled snort behind. “And introduce your fair lady,” King Elessar said as Pippin rose to his feet.

Diamond immediately ducked into a deep curtsy again, her skirts brushing the ground even as she held them out from her sides. She spoke in the manner which had been ingrained in her from years of practice, as she was incapable of thought just then, in a soft and nearly breathless voice, “Mistress Diamond Took, at your service, King Elessar, sire!”

“And I,” the King said, going down on his knees before her, so that Diamond would have stepped back and away in awe if it were not for Pippin, now standing so that his head was nearly on a level with the King’s chin. Her husband grabbed at her arm and held her steadily in place, favoring her with a reassuring smile as she looked quickly at him.

“I,” the King said to Diamond and reached for her hand. She trembled slightly but quickly let him take it, glancing back once again for assurance at her husband. The King brought the small hobbitess’s fair hand to his lips, where it brushed against the oddity of a beard and mustache, and Diamond continued to glance nervously between her husband and the King, with some quick, trembling regards of the ground as well.

“I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn,” the King’s lips spoke softly against her hand as he still held it, and then he turned his face to Pippin and said wryly, “known popularly -- among some -- as Strider.”

Pippin let out a whoop with a joyful smile and withdrew his hand from Diamond’s arm to fling both of his own arms around the King’s neck.

Strider also let go of Diamond in order to hug Pippin back. Laughing, he opened one of his arms a moment later to allow Merry to join in the hug. Strider managed to get out, through bursts of hobbit chatter and giggles, “Welcome! Welcome, old friends!”

Chapter 19: Occlusion

“Hullo, Aragorn,” the hobbit said, not bothering to turn around.

The King stopped walking, the bottom edges of his cloak brushing against the tips of the grass in this field behind the stables.

“I had forgotten about hobbit hearing, it seems,” he said kindly.

A snort in answer. “Either that or you’ve forgotten your skills as a Ranger -- how to sneak up on people and all that.”

“Duly noted,” Aragorn said and stepped to the fence himself to rest his own arms on the top of it.

“Would you like a better view?” he asked, looking down at the top of his friend’s curly head.

“Yes, please,” came the answer, and Aragorn lifted him under the arms to prop his feet on a higher fence slat so that, even though he was still holding to and peering through the fence, it was at a higher level with, indeed, a more open and better view.

The two watched in companionable silence, for a few moments, the few horses belonging to a contingent of soldiers newly returned from a foray toward the sea towns where the Corsairs bothered. Their saddles taken off their backs and bridles lifted from their heads, the animals roamed the good, fresh grass.

“In these meadows,” the hobbit finally commented, “they’ll cool off as they should.”

“Aye,” Aragorn smiled softly. “Your words are good.” He made a small gesture toward the other side of the meadow where, if one was looking for it, could be seen a glint of mail. And their Men who are weary may lie on the ground and sleep. For on this night, they’ll need no watch to keep.”

The comfortable quiet lingered a moment longer. Then the hobbit turned his head up toward Aragorn with a grin. “You had ought to have your cobbler do a better job at patching the sole of that right boot, you know,” he said conversationally. “That’s how I knew it was you.”

“Humph,” Aragorn responded, blowing the air out past his beard and pretending to glower down at the hobbit. “So, I should be taking advice on footwear from a hobbit then, shall I?” he asked.

“Oh, of course,” came the confident answer. “We really are a very practical sort, you know.” He carefully turned himself around so that his hands clutched the fence behind him, and moved as if to jump off toward the ground, but then thought better of it and clutched his hands tightly again.

“I’m sure you are,” Aragorn said, lifting him beneath the arms again, this time to set him back gently on the ground so that they could walk together back toward the Citadel.

“Well, we are!” the hobbit huffed out. “Leastwise, we Brandybucks.” He shook his head. “Though there are some among hobbits...” He looked up to Aragorn, his dark blond curls catching the light from the setting sun and his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Where is Pip, anyway?”

Aragorn threw his head back and laughed. He reached down to take Merry’s hand as he brought his chin forward again, that same sun glinting off his white teeth. “I am sure he is probably off somewhere undermining the decorum among my off-duty guards once again,” he said, still smiling.

Merry smiled, too, at the memory image that came to him of a Tower Guard, obviously nursing a morning headache and surly temperament due to an excursion the night before, while Pippin chattered happily on in front of him, when he wasn’t stuffing his face with everything available on the first breakfast table.

His smile faltered, though, and he stared down at the grass upon which he and the King walked.

“Merry,” Aragorn said softly, stopping along the grassy path as the shadows lengthened and reaching to tilt up the hobbit’s chin. “Is something wrong between you and Pippin?”

Merry shook his head quickly within the King’s grasp but did not look up. “No,” he said, then repeated louder, bringing his face up to look into Aragorn’s as quiet tears came, “No, not now, anyway.

“It’s just,” he closed his eyes tight for a moment, then opened them but refused to meet Aragorn’s as he muttered, “I haven’t been very nice to him about Diamond, is all, and now we’ve made up, I suppose, for I know now that she loves him and he her and -- and Pip forgives me,” he finished, wiping the back of his hands across his eyes and trying to smile at Aragorn. “It’s silly, I suppose.”

Aragorn bent down on one knee in the grass. Even so, he remained taller than the hobbit and still had to tilt his head down as he spoke. “No, Merry, it’s not silly at all,” he said. He was silent a moment, letting his friend sniffle quietly beside him in the twilight as Aragorn held his hand before saying quietly, as he looked up at the evening’s first visible stars, “Pippin is a very forgiving hobbit.”

Merry nodded in agreement, still distracted by his own tears.

“In fact,” Aragorn went on in a voice that neared to a whisper, “I have known only one other who was more so.”

Merry started, shocked for the moment out of his tears, and stared at Aragorn. “You -- you mean?” he whispered hoarsely.

Aragorn lowered his gaze from the sky to look into the hobbit’s eyes. “Yes, Merry,” he said solemnly. “If I had failed further at Weathertop, or if he had not reached Rivendell in time, or if -- for some other reason -- Frodo had not been able to fulfill the Quest -- I think--”

Merry’s eyes had grown wider and more round as the speech continued, and now he choked “Oh!” and flung himself upon Aragorn, wrapping his arms around the King’s neck as he buried his face in his shoulder to whisper, with tense sadness, “Oh, Aragorn, then I would have lost both of my cousins!”

The King’s arms circled around Merry to hold the hobbit close from behind, and he nodded.

“Strider,” Merry said, lifting his head just slightly from the King’s shoulder to look up into his eyes, “I miss him, still.”

Aragorn in turn closed his eyes and patted the hobbit slowly on the back. “I know, Merry,” he said. “I know. As do we all.”


Diamond walked slowly through the streets, holding carefully to Estella’s hand. Everything in this City was just so Big -- too big for them, she thought, as Estella clutched tightly to her while skirting a rock that lay in the path. Diamond heard Estella’s giggle and chatter to the Guard who followed them and wondered at the trembling she felt in her friend’s hand.

Perhaps, she wondered, Estella thought that they might expect other from the Big people of Gondor than the kindness and honor with which they had been unfailingly met so far.

She stopped, curious, to gaze at the shops scattered about them in this street. Diamond sniffed the air experimentally but could not identify the source of the strange odor.

“Please,” she asked, drawing herself up to her full height and talking over Estella’s chatter to their accompanying Guard, “do you know from whence comes that strange smell in the air?”

The young Man nodded and pointed to a shop one door down from where they stood.

“Thank you,” Diamond acknowledged him with a gracious nod of her head and walked forward so that Estella, still clinging to her, had to skip one or two steps to catch up.

“Diamond?” she whispered in the other hobbitess’s ear. “Do you think maybe we should wait for Merry and Pippin before we actually go in the shops on this level? I mean, they are not as close to the court as they have been before,” she hastily added.

Diamond calmly turned her gray eyes upon her friend.

“Well, I mean, I know they’re awfully busy, what with Pippin having Guard duty and Merry talking to Eowyn and going to the Houses of Healing all the time, but...”

She squared her shoulders back in the face of Diamond’s calm gaze and concluded, “Well, fine then. Let’s go in,” she said brightly, grasping Diamond’s hand firmly as she reached up to push the door open with her other.

A bell rigged above the lintel jingled as they entered, and then stood for a moment inside the slightly darker entryway as their eyes adjusted to the light, a variety of smells and glimpses of sparkling things coming to their senses from the shelves above their heads. Their young Guard chose to remain outside.

A tall Woman with long skirts and her hair tied back and covered with a silken kerchief stepped before the hobbitesses just as another Woman’s voice called from farther back in the shop, “Who is it, Argine? Was there someone at the door?”

“Yes, Mother,” the young Woman called back into the depths, “but it is merely two little girls. Off with you, now,” she said to Diamond and Estella, and made motions with her hands as if to shoo them away. “You ought to know better than to be in here. Out you go before you break something!”

Diamond, her eyes now adjusted to the lighting, looked up into the Woman’s fair face just as Estella said indignantly, “Hoy! We are not lasses!”

Argine had just taken a better look herself, and she gasped at the sight of pointed eartips peeking through curls on their heads, and bare feet that nudged out from the hems of their skirts.

“I--,” she gasped, then called sharply, “Mother!” before dropping herself into a curtsy before the halflings. “My -- my ladies,” she whispered. “I welcome you to our shop.”

Her mother had bustled up behind her as she spoke, and now she, too, gasped and spread her skirts out, curtsying before she dropped abruptly to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

“Oh!” Diamond gasped softly and Estella cried out, “Mistress!” so that Argine rose and turned around in alarm.

Her mother waved her off, though, and continued advancing forward on her knees, her arms outstretched toward the hobbitesses, who held on to each other as each glanced uncertainly from her companion back to the shopmistress.

“My ladies,” she said softly, echoing her daughter, as she stretched forth her hands and caught one of each of the hobbitesses’ within them. She brought Estella’s, then Diamond’s hand to her mouth in turn and kissed them softly with reverence.

“I wish to thank you,” she said, smiling through her tears, and when they would have opened their mouths to object, she went on, “I am Rachael, wife to Ogier, who was of the Third Company of the Guard, before the fell battle before the Black Gate.”

She smiled still, shaking her head through the tears as Estella looked upon her with horror and Diamond began to quiver. “No, no my ladies,” she said. “All is well, for though he was injured and could no longer serve his Lord, or his King, as a common soldier, my husband was alive, alive and waiting for me when at last I returned with the wains that had been sent into refuge at Lebennin.

“And it is to you -- your people -- and your husbands that I owe my thanks,” she said, squeezing lightly each small hand she held as she still knelt before them, “and I have never had chance to offer it until now, for at my return the pheriannath had already left the City, and I have never had chance until now to see any from the race which brings to us small but doughty warriors in our hour of need.”

Overwhelming indeed was this City and its inhabitants, particularly in the news they might bear of the hobbits who had left the Shire upon the Quest, Diamond thought, even as the pride in her heart for Pippin grew yet more, and she began to smile back at the Woman.

“Oh, you poor dear!” Estella meanwhile had exclaimed, and worked her hand loose from Diamond’s to pat at the Woman’s face. “I am sure we are all quite happy that your husband came home safely, if -- if not in one piece,” she said, and her voice broke on these words as she remembered her first sight of Freddy after the Lockholes, and she leaned over to wrap her arms about the Woman’s neck in a hug as tears came, too, to her eyes.

Rachael closed her eyes in bliss and then opened them to look shyly at Diamond, who still held the hand that did not hover over Estella’s back.

“It was a brave warrior, indeed,” she said to both of them, “to slay a troll that would have killed a dozen Men, and I am most especially indebted to the Ernil i Pheriannath.”

Diamond had swallowed hard at the mention of the troll, and a quiver ran through her, but now she came a step closer at this repetition of the title she had heard used for Pippin upon their entrance to the City.

“Please, Mistress Rachael,” she said softly, “what does it mean, ‘Ernil i Pheriannath’?”

“Why -- why, did you not know?” Rachael cried out, drawing back a bit from Estella as her daughter hovered nervously over her shoulder. “Sir Peregrin is called the Prince of the Halflings! Is he not?” she asked anxiously, looking from one hobbitess to the other.

Estella made an odd sound that might, if she had not been crying, have been a laugh, but as she muffled her tears again in the Woman’s shoulder, it was most likely a sob.

Diamond smiled and took another step forward to place her hand kindly upon the Woman’s shoulder. “We do not call him such,” she said simply, then smiled wider and cast her eyes modestly down. “Though he is the king of my heart.”


Pippin scrambled to his feet from the stone bench set within an embrasure of the Citadel’s wall as he heard footsteps approach on the stone floor. As he saw who it was, he drew himself up to rigid attention and saluted after the manner of Gondor, with bowed head and hands upon the breast.

“Prince Faramir,” he said respectfully.

“Prince Peregrin,” Faramir smiled and bowed the same in return.

Pippin blushed red to his eartips and shuffled his feet nervously along the stone. “You don’t have to -- That isn’t--” he stuttered out, and Faramir laughed and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

“Come,” said the Prince of Ithilien, “you are already a friend of Kings and of Wizards. Surely a bit more royalty, such as it may be, is not too much for you?”

Pippin grinned, and shuffled his feet again, his hands behind him and his eyes looking bashfully down.

Faramir sighed and turned himself to sit upon the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him and his arms spread along the back. He tilted his head backward to stare at the ceiling, but began speaking just as Pippin had made up his mind to begin to tiptoe off.

“Do you know, Sir Peregrin,” Faramir began, “I believe I have been remiss.”

“Er,” Pippin shifted from one foot to the other. “Er, sir?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

Faramir sat up, swinging his arms before him to clasp his hands loosely above his knees. “It seems,” he said solemnly, though there was a light of amusement in his eyes, “that I have not made the acquaintance -- or, I should say,” he added thoughtfully, “gained as much knowledge of,” but then returned to his earlier tone, “as many hobbits as I ought.”

“Er, sir?” Pippin offered hesitantly. “But I thought Stri-- King Elessar,” he said with brow furrowed, “had forbidden the entrance of Men to the Shire.”

“Ah, so he did, so he did,” muttered Faramir, looking away briefly before bringing his eyes back to rest upon Pippin. “But you are not in the Shire now, are you, Sir Peregrin?” he asked, with one eyebrow quirked.

“No,” Pippin answered, the beginnings of a smile around the edges of his own lips. “No, I am not.” And he shuffled closer to the bench, and then hopped up to sit perched on the edge of it beside Faramir. His feet dangled next to the other’s booted legs.

“We had not a chance to get very well acquainted during the War,” Faramir said. “For, when I met you first, it was only for a brief time, in the company of Mithrandir and of my father” -- he ignored Pippin’s slight intake of breath and biting his lip, and his glance away, at the mention of Lord Denethor -- “and then, when I returned again to the City, I was not conscious of anything for a long while,” he said, and reached a hand up to gently scrub away a tear from the hobbit’s face as he said with the utmost kindness of feeling, “though I do know it is you I have to thank that I woke again, and I hope you remember the words I have tried to speak of this before, though nothing should be adequate thanks.”

Faramir caressed another tear away with his thumb and then let his hand fall as Pippin, his head bowed, sniffed and then nodded.

“But other than that,” Faramir said in a tone of light banter again, resting his hands once more upon his knees, “I am afraid I was too terribly distracted in the days after the War to pay you much attention.”

Pippin sniffed and rubbed his nose, but his tone also was light as he replied. “I can see why. She is quite distracting, my Lord. I believe Merry finds her so as well.”

“I believe the both of you have your own distractions now, thank you very much,” Faramir said, wagging a finger in the face of the hobbit, who ducked to try to hide his smile.

“But, yes, she is quite distracting,” Faramir said, leaning back again. “And if I had not met your cousin Merry at so near the time I met the Lady Eowyn, when we were all thrown together at the Houses of Healing and must needs only wait and worry for our friends and kin” -- Faramir sat forward again to gently rub the stiffened back he saw before him -- “well,” he sighed, “I daresay I should have been chid for not coming to know even one hobbit as well as I ought.”

“You were chid, Lord?” Pippin asked, looking up with surprise.

“Indeed I was,” Faramir chuckled ruefully. “It is why our visit to this City of my youth has been arranged to coincide with yours.”

He leaned over to press his head against Pippin’s forehead and to whisper conspiratorially, as Pippin’s eyes started, then softened and twinkled, “I distinctly recall our King, Lord Aragorn, saying to me, ‘Really, Faramir, it is bad enough that I have not managed to arrange my duties well enough in nine years’ -- nine years, think of that! -- ‘so that I should be able to go and visit my hobbit friends near to their home in the North Kingdom, but here you are, close by and near enough at hand for frequent visits, yet when I wish to speak to you of hobbits, your knowledge of them beyond their deeds and your meetings with them in the Great War’” -- Faramir grasped Pippin’s chin and held it firmly as his eyes flickered and he would have looked away -- “’is nearly limited to the aid young Meriadoc gave to you in courting the Lady Eowyn, and of informing you what he knew of her people the Rohirrim as we rode to Edoras. Really, Faramir,’” that Man said, and shook his head, “’I shall have to order you to make certain you befriend as well the very next hobbit to visit this City, and make sure you are not quite so distracted this time!’”

Pippin giggled at the end of this long speech, both at Faramir’s words and at his imitation of Aragorn’s voice.

Faramir smiled as well, and let go the hobbit’s chin. Pippin swung his legs a moment and hummed a bit, then looked up at the Man with a smile on his face.

“So, where are Merry and the fair-ly distracting Princess Eowyn?” he asked. Faramir scowled and pretended to lift a hand to him, but Pippin just giggled and ducked his head a little, not moving from his position on the bench.

“They are again at the Houses of Healing,” he sighed and sat forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “And are like to be there a very long time before they learn all they wish to know of herblore.”

“Aye,” Pippin nodded and agreed, wiggling slightly closer to Faramir on the bench. “And don’t I know it.”

Faramir laughed with him, and they sat together quietly a few moments until Pippin’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Faramir,” he asked, wrinkling his nose and looking up through his curls, “why aren’t you with them? Gandalf said you liked learning of lore and such.”

Faramir sighed and removed his hands from his chin, turning them over on his thighs so that he looked down upon his empty palms. “I do, Pippin,” he said quietly, “but they are trying to learn this day of the knowledge of Ioreth -- do you remember the old Woman among the healers?”

He glanced over to see Pippin’s nod, and the concern on the hobbit’s face.

“Well,” Faramir said heavily, studying his fingers again, “she has had a brain attack within these years, and her tongue does not trip so lightly as it once did. She must now struggle with her words. It pains me to see her so,” he finished, and then turned quickly from his gaze at his hands to study his companion.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Pippin choked out in a small voice, his face scrunched up with eyes closed and his back stiff as the tears and the quiet sobs came back to him. “I just -- b-before,” Pippin stuttered out as Faramir gathered him close in a hug and he leaned to rest his forehead on the Man’s chest. “When -- when you found me on the bench, I was thinking about my Da,” he finally whispered out.

Faramir’s turn it was to stiffen, and Pippin gasped and pulled back within the circle of his arms. “I’m -- I’m sorry, my Lord,” he muttered, his words tripping over themselves as he rushed to apologize, “I dinna mean to make you think of Lord Denethor.”

“Pippin,” Faramir responded, forcing himself to relax and slowly drawing the hobbit toward him again, so that Pippin lay against his chest with his face looking outward.

“You needn’t apologize for thinking of your father,” Faramir said above Pippin’s curls, “nor for causing me to think of mine.

“For though you knew him but in his latter days,” he said in a wistful tone, “once he was a great Man. He bore Mithrandir more welcome than you saw,” Faramir said and glanced down at the hobbit snuggled against him, “and did not mind so much then that I was adept at being a wizard’s pupil,” he said heavily.

“It was painful,” he said in the same heavy tone, “to see him change, not only for the way he treated me, but for the pain it wrought in him, and for what I saw as this once-strong warrior aged and withered through the years, though they be not so great upon him, before my very eyes.” He sighed and closed his eyes sadly, tilting his head to one side to rest his cheek against the hobbit’s curls and holding him more closely.

Pippin was now sobbing again, and choked out between cries, “My father is ill, Faramir, and I am watching him, too, age and wither before my eyes. He will be cross with me, or someone else, or at my mother -- but most frequently with me, I think - over things that would never have bothered him before. And I know that he hurts, and the healers cannae help, and I know there ‘tisn’t anything I can do, and -- and I don’t think I can say anymore,” he finished, and cried some more into Faramir’s tunic.

Faramir held him close, and rubbed his back, until at last Pippin sat up and wiped at his face with a handkerchief, still sniffling.

“Gandalf would say something very gruff right now, and then call me a fool of a Took,” Pippin said toward the bench.

Faramir chuckled sadly and replied, “Well, I am afraid I am not much help there, as I do not think you are a fool, and being appropriately gruff was something I never learnt properly from the Wizard.”

Pippin giggled slightly into his handkerchief, and then hiccuped, as he was still sobbing a bit as well.

“When I was little,” he said, and looked up with the ghost of his usual smile at Faramir, “I used to pretend that Gandalf was my Grandda. They didn’t take me to visit Mama’s father too much before he passed away, and my Da’s da died before I was even born.

“But,” he said with a more true smile now through the remains of the tears, “Gandalf had known Da’s da, and nearly all the Tooks before him, and so I decided that he should be my Grandda instead. I never completely grew out of it, you know,” he said, his voice trailing off softly as he looked down at the bench once more.

Faramir laughed though it pained him even as he did so. “I think I felt something alike to that, Pippin,” he said. “Though it is only hobbits, I believe, who would have the gall to graft an unwitting and potentially unwilling Wizard onto their family trees.”

Pippin lifted his eyes to Faramir’s and smiled at him until his expression dissolved once more into tears. “Oh, Faramir,” he said sadly. “I miss him so much. Almost as much as I’m going to miss my Da.”

“I know,” Faramir said and gathered the hobbit to him again so that Pippin was practically in his lap as they shared their grief together. “I miss them both as well.”

Chapter 20: Flawed

“Husband?” Diamond asked, with a soft kiss to the curls against his forehead as Pippin bent still over the breakfast table in the Citadel, paying attention more to the food at the moment than to her. “Will you need anything else ere I depart with Estella?”

“Hmm?” Pippin looked up from his coddled eggs, his eyes lighting briefly on Denggold, the young Guardsman who escorted his own and his cousin’s wife, waiting impatiently in the archway, before coming to rest on Diamond.

“Nay,” he smiled at her. “Be off and have fun in the shops of cloth and such,” he laughed, waving a hand to encompass the “and such.”

He leaned over then in his chair to kiss her farewell, his feet curling around the rungs, even as Estella, from the doorway next the Guardsman, tapped her own foot impatiently, arms crossed across her chest, and insisted, “Come on, Diamond!”

Pippin seemed to ignore this, framing his wife’s face in his hands as he kissed her on the lips, but Diamond could see his eyes twinkle and hear him whisper, for her ears alone, “Dinna give her the satisfaction, yet, of knowing ‘tisn’t always displeasing to listen to her words,” he teased.

Diamond smiled in return as Pippin let go and she drew away, catching up with Estella at the archway. Diamond walked through, her skirts rustling as she turned to look over her shoulder into the room, and Estella and the Guardsman followed after her.

“Really, Merry,” Pippin said conversationally as he stood atop his chair to reach a buttered roll that had, indeed, rolled to the middle of the large table. “I dinna know why you chose a lass who’s so impatient!” he concluded, plopping back down to sit in his hobbit-sized chair and spread the roll with jam.

“Yes, cousin,” Merry said dryly, lifting his head from the parchment notes he’d been reading and reaching for his mug of tea. “I can’t imagine why,” he said quietly over the rim, watching as Pippin concentrated intently on the roll and the jam.


“Was Pippin angry, then?” Estella asked lightly as the hobbitesses walked through the first circle, the morning birdsong providing some comfort of the Shire against a City of stone. She giggled. “Or has he come at last to laugh at that story, as well?” she asked her friend, grinning toward her.

Diamond merely parted her lips in a serene smile and nodded toward the chambermaid sweeping the steps of one of the City’s homes as they passed. She would ignore Estella for a few moments, and it would drive Mistress Brandybuck to such distraction that it would be a fitting tease for hers of the day before, and an appropriate response to Pippin’s request of her this morning.

Diamond sidled her gray eyes over to glance at Estella as she waked beside her, and had to press her lips tightly together to prevent the escape of a giggle. Estella, indeed, was flustered, tossing her curls every few moments like a pony as she cast her own looks at Diamond and chattering on, all the while, as she did each day, about the weather and the shops, and their purchases, both planned and accomplished.

Diamond relented, a bit, at the uneasy glances and put her hand out to take Estella’s and grasp it softly. Estella relaxed at once and peered at Diamond’s face, which remained impassive as the younger hobbitess continued her silence, but the eyes were kind.

“Oh, no matter!” Estella laughed. “I guess he shan’t be too angry for long, anyway, if my young cousin remembers the tricks I used to play upon my brother Freddy,” she continued.

Her face grew earnest as she looked at Diamond again. “Oh, but that’s why I changed my mind about the scent bottle I first selected for you at Mistress Rachael’s shop, you know,” she said, and Diamond bit the insides of her pursed lips as Estella continued, “I used to use that same scent quite a bit when I was younger, and I gave it out for my birthday to Pervinca and all of my friends, until it made Freddy quite ill one day,” she said, her brow furrowed and her grip quite tight on Diamond’s hand. “I shouldn’t really want Pippin to be ill, you know,” she said.

Diamond smiled graciously. “Yes, I do know,” she said quietly and added, “thank you.” She then tucked Estella’s hand up beneath her arm and asked, “Now, hadn’t you said something about a shop with fine velvet?”

“Oh! Oh, yes!” Estella’s bright face alit, and she began explaining, in detail, what she had heard of the shop and its contents from one of the Lady Eowyn’s attendants, pulling Diamond along with her on their course.

Diamond now let her smile play about her face as she half listened and allowed herself to be pulled along.

Relieved, she was, both at her friend’s newfound enthusiasm and that she had fulfilled the requirement Pippin expected of her. She knew, of course, that he had been using her to continue the teasing of Estella begun when they were children, just as she knew, from Pippin’s descriptions in their rooms the night before of the memories Estella’s new bottle of scent had evoked, that she had, in turn, meant to tease him with it by suggesting that Diamond wear some upon their return to the Citadel.

Diamond was glad, though, that Estella had changed her mind and grown enough to be beyond the carrying out of such jokes. Although she knew that Freddy’s illness had been feigned, and had been laughing so hard she must hold her sides at Pippin’s imitations of his paroxysms; still, Diamond had no wish to displease her husband, whether through the scent she wore or in any other manner.

She remembered, with a ferocity she clung to, all she had learned of proper behavior before she wed, when she knew Pippin only as a hobbit to whom she owed her duty. Now, now that she loved him, she was even more determined to accomplish what was right.

She should be an ornament upon his arm, her lessons had said, and she studied now the fashions and the fabrics of Gondor, so that her wardrobe in the Shire should not be lacking. She was to have the running of the Great Smials some day, and had the duty already of planning certain meals, and she studied the foods available in the markets of Minas Tirith, and asked for the receipts of any dishes which seemed especially pleasing. Her husband must be happy, she knew both from her duties and her heart, and she looked for things within shops which would please him, whether they be given now or ordered for later delivery to the Shire. Diamond knew, for they were now embedded in her heart, her duties toward her husband.

She was falling, pitched forward by a sudden unevenness in the stone, her arm wrenched away from Estella’s. She heard the other hobbitess’s shout as the hard ground rushed up to meet her, and Diamond’s breath caught in a strangled cry as she stopped moving.

She looked, dazed, at the hand on her arm as the young Guardsman rocked her back onto her feet. Estella hovered, chattering anxiously near her, but Diamond could not distinguish the words through the roaring in her ears as she watched, with an odd detachment, the Guardsman reach toward her front to brush at any dirt upon her dress, his other hand still clinging to her arm.

“No!” she shouted suddenly in a panicked voice, louder than any Estella had yet heard her use, and wrenched away.

Diamond’s face was pale and her dark curls escaping their clasp. She held both hands before her to warn the Guardsman off as she backed away, crying, tears streaking her cheeks.

She said aloud, though in a hoarse and broken whisper, “Alas that I was born! I’ve lost my husband, Sir; I am left to shame!” Diamond placed her hands briefly over her face, but heard Denggold’s footsteps approach and lifted them away to stare at him with her stricken expression once more. Diamond turned then, and she fled.


“Yes, but...” Pippin stopped his conversation as he and the King walked in the courtyard of the Citadel, and frowned. He’d thought he’d heard something in the distance. He shook his head and continued. “Aye, but ‘tisn’t like that, you see--”

“Pippin!” Estella shouted again, clambering up the large stone steps to the courtyard on her hands and knees, she was in such a hurry. “Pippin!”

The hobbit turned his head and gasped when he saw her, then took off across the courtyard at a run, followed closely by the King.

With his longer legs, though, Aragorn was the first to reach the hobbitess. He had already asked if she was well, and received her breathless nods in return, when the hobbit came skidding to a stop before them, his eyes searching frantically for her companion.

“Diamond!” he shouted, half-aware of and mostly gratified at Estella’s answer to Strider’s questions, but consumed with worry over one who might still be unwell. “Diamond!” he shouted again and, grabbing Estella by the shoulders, he shook her and shouted into her face, “Where is she? Is she all right?”

“Sir Peregrin!” the King commanded, and forcibly but gently reached out to separate the two hobbits, keeping a calming hand upon each of their shoulders as he held them apart. “Estella cannot answer if you are shaking her,” he said to Pippin, “give her a chance to speak.”

Then, turning to Estella, he asked, himself, “Estella, is Diamond all right?”

“She -- she,” Estella panted, struggling to regain her breath, then looked away from the King’s face and toward the ground as she said, “She is not hurt.”

“Then what ‘tis the matter, then?” Pippin cried out angrily and pulled against the King’s hand, whether to approach Estella again or to run off in search of Diamond, even he wasn’t certain.

The Dunedain was strong enough to restrain him, however, and Strider knelt now between the two hobbits, asking calmly, in his voice of wisdom, “Estella? Could you please tell us what happened?”

“It’s -- it’s, “ she gulped still for breath and then looked at the King, tears appearing in her eyes as she did so, “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s your Guardsman that you set to watch us. He’s -- he’s touched Diamond, sir,” she said in a rush. Looking at the King and not her cousin when she said it, Estella found, made things easier.

It didn’t, however, stop her from hearing the low growl that emitted from Pippin’s throat, or feeling the tug upon the King’s arm as he pulled forward again.

“What,” Aragorn said hastily, and shot a quelling look at the hobbit of his Guard, “do you mean?”

“Well,” Estella glanced only once at the grimly set face of the Took before turning back tot he King. “At first, she had tripped, you see, and he stopped her fall with just his hand upon her arm. I don’t suppose that would have been so bad,” she thought out loud, “although Diamond mightn’t agree, since she knows so well that no one unwed -- or no hobbits, at least, and Men, too, I suppose, though it shouldn’t apply if they are but children -- oh, but I understand a teen is nearly a Man -- and he is a Guardsman, at any rate -- well, none such as that are meant to touch her -- and I might have been able to convince her there was nothing untoward with Denggold’s hand upon her arm -- although I should have had to work at it, I’ll warrant! -- but then,” she lowered her eyes to the ground again, uncharacteristically shy, and nearly whispered, “he reached out and brushed her front.” Estella moved her own hand that was free across her dress, starting at the top of the bodice and ending at the middle of her skirt.

She looked up again, and this time she did look at Pippin as she said, “She thinks she’s brought you shame, and it’s upset her so. She’s run off, and I could not find her on my way back here.”

Pippin breathed heavily, twice, in the next moments, and emotions played with rapidity across his face. Then, with studied calm, he looked up beyond the end of his arm to the King who held it and asked, “Your Majesty. May I please be released to search for my wife?”

Aragorn looked hard back at him and slowly eased his grip on Pippin’s arm, saying as he did so, “Yes, Sir Peregrin, you may leave to accomplish this task.” He emphasized the last two words and added, with conviction, “I shall deal with my Guardsman.”

“Pippin nodded once, curtly, but his expression was unreadable as he stalked off.

“A King of so many lands,” Aragorn sighed as he watched the stiff black and silver clad back carefully descend the steps. “Would that their cultures were such as to prevent such misunderstandings.”

“Oh, but come now,” Estella gently teased from where he still gripped her arm. Her task complete now, her natural buoyancy was returning. “That would be boring indeed, wouldn’t it? Sire,” she hastily added as his eyes turned back to her.

Aragorn’s face mellowed then, and he gave a small laugh and a slight hug to Estella as he commented, “That is a problem I have not had yet with hobbits.”


“Diamond?” Pippin called softly from the entry to their rooms. He was relieved that Diamond had, in fact, arrived at the first place he thought to look, but wary of startling her in her motions.

Apparently, he had not been careful enough, for he winced as she jumped and dropped the cloth she held to her face, splashing more water from the washbasin as it fell upon the floor.

“Oh!” Diamond said as she whirled round to face him, standing still in the same spot.

Pippin drew a breath, squared his shoulders and crossed hurriedly to where she stood, bending to pick up the cloth.

“I seem to have startled you,” he said lightly as he crouched, just as Diamond’s shoulders heaved again and she covered her face with her hands to sob out behind them,

“Husband! I have shamed you!”

“What, with a little water upon the floor?” Pippin feigned surprise as he stood. “Why, ‘twill dry!” he added lightly.


He stood awkwardly before Diamond, her face still covered as she shook her head “no,” for a few moments.

He then sighed, dropped the cloth back into the washbasin, and said more seriously into the strained silence, “Estella told me what happened, then.”

Diamond drew her hands away from her face, and Pippin could see the ravaged expression upon it. He swallowed down his anger, the muscle tightening in his jaw as he clenched it.

“I should understand if you wished to put me away,” Diamond said, looking not at him but at the floor.

Pippin laughed once, without mirth, a harsh and surprising sound coming from him, and Diamond looked up in astonishment.

“’Twouldn’t be very honorable, would it?” he asked bitterly and strode to the door he’d entered to slam it shut.

“But,” Diamond said slowly, perplexed, watching his back as he remained facing the closed door. “I have disobeyed.”

Pippin laughed oddly again, and a strange look was upon his face as he turned to face her and to ask, with a slight smile hovering under sad eyes, “When you have ever willingly disobeyed me, Diamond?”

“I--,” she chewed her lip then, and hugged herself in shame as she once more lowered her eyes. “I allowed another, a lad unwed, to touch me when I mustn’t,” she nearly whispered her confession, and tears dropped from her eyes to mingle with the water upon the floor.

“Ach!” Pippin said with a toss of his head, and crossed the room in quick strides to sit down heavily upon the edge of the bed. “I know the rules, Diamond,” he said, “for they’re my rules as well, lest you dinna remember.

“’Tisn’t of my making that such rules are,” he continued, looking down now, himself, at the coverlet, and beginning to pick at it. “I wouldna have had you promise to obey, you know, if my Da had asked me,” he said low, and then glanced up to gauge Diamond’s reaction before quickly turning his attention back to the coverlet.

He timed wrong and missed Diamond’s furtive glance upward, and her furrowed brow, before she returned to her study of the floor.

“’Twas quite enough to promise to love and to honor, as I had done,” he said as his voice became thick, and then shook with the next sentence. “Or as I have tried. I fear I have dishonored you first, Diamond,” he said with a quaver.

“What?” her head snapped up with a gasp. “What do you mean?” she asked in bafflement.

Pippin’s cheeks flamed and he drew up one knee to rest his chin upon it as he continued picking at the coverlet. “Last -- last Yule,” he said hesitantly, “with the kitchen lasses...I am so sorry...”

The last was said nearly into his knee and Diamond, surprised so at his words that they goaded her into action, moved to kneel before him, placing one hand gently yet tentatively upon his arm.

“Why -- why, that was not your fault!” she said clearly.

Pippin rolled his face away from his knee to look into her eyes. “Then you are nae angry?” he whispered.

“No!” Diamond answered in shock, her hand unconsciously tightening upon his arm. “Not with you!” she added honestly, then lowered her head once more as she continued, “I saw what happened that day, and I know you did not wish it so, my husband,” she whispered.

Pippin smiled a thin and watery smile and reached out two fingers to gently tilt her chin up toward his face once more.

“And I didna see what happ’d today, yet I know you didna wish it either,” he said simply. He clutched a bit tighter when Diamond would have moved her head again and whispered, “I trust you, Diamond. ‘Tis a form of honor, I think.”

Pippin unfolded himself and lifted Diamond beneath the arms until she was lying on the bed next to him so that he could hold her and stroke her curls as she sobbed.

“Aye,” he said, looking unfocused at the air beyond her as his fingers were caught up in her curls. “We both must do our duties, as needs be,” he said with a sigh.

And then he wiggled slightly so that his face was even with Diamond’s, and his other hand clasped hers fiercely. “’Tis nae a hardship, Diamond,” he said as their noses touched, “to fulfill my duty to love you.”

Diamond looked solemnly back at him and replied in whisper, “Nor for I to love you.”


“All is well, then?” Merry asked his wife from the edge of the street market.

“Aye, so it would seem,” Estella answered, her head resting upon his shoulder as the two of them watched Pippin and Diamond walk ahead.

Pippin approached a stall and came away from it holding upon a stick an apple coated in candy and nuts. He took a bite from one side, then, grinning, tipped the stick slightly toward Diamond. Estella nudged Merry when she saw that they were not the only ones watching the scene as Diamond’s enraptured face reached toward the apple, her eyes locked only on Pippin.

“Aye, I see it,” Merry responded, and looked up to assure himself that their other companion had, indeed, noticed the artist doing a hasty charcoal sketch of the scene.

The King smiled back down at the hobbit. Yes, he had seen.

Chapter 21: Eg’ Market

“Yes, Mother,” Diamond said with a nod of dismissal at Sage as the lass pushed the tea cart into the parlor at the Smials.

Diamond clutched at the back of the settee and held her hand briefly to her middle before shaking it off and smiling quietly as she crossed to where Honeysuckle stood, her back turned, examining the portrait upon the wall.

“Yes, Mother,” Diamond repeated quietly from her side. “That was drawn from life when we visited the King in the last year. He has a copy for himself, as well,” she added demurely.

“The King!” Honeysuckle breathed out so quietly that, except for hobbit ears, she almost would not have been heard. She stared a few moments more at the portrait of her daughter gazing adoringly at the lass’s husband while biting into an apple he held.

Then she lifted her skirts away from her hips and hitched round with difficulty to face Diamond, who in turn led her mother to a chair. When the older hobbitess was seated, Diamond reached for and began carefully pouring from the silver teapot upon the tray.

Honeysuckle opened her mouth as if to say something while Diamond’s dark curls were bent over the pot, then changed her mind, closing her lips and worrying them together as she glanced nervously about the room.

“There you are, Mother,” Diamond smiled as she gracefully handed Honeysuckle the filled up. It clanked against the saucer as the older hobbitess took it in her hands.

“I am so glad you could come for this visit,” Diamond said as she finished filling her own cup and leaned back against the settee. A smile was upon her face, but it became a bit wistful as she looked down to take a careful sip and added, “I am only sorry that no one else has accompanied you.”

“Oh,” Honeysuckle hastened to assure her, moving suddenly in her chair as she did so, so that the cup clinked again against the saucer as it shifted uncomfortably among her skirts. “The servant Captain Peregrin sent along with the sturdy cart was fine to travel with. I had not any trouble.”

Diamond smiled, and Honeysuckle’s eyes widened as her daughter gave a clear laugh in response. “No. No, you would not have trouble with Bert along. But that is not what I--”

“Diamond?” Honeysuckle interrupted her with a look of consternation, reaching out to put one hand upon her daughter’s knee. “Is that servant, Filibert, wed?”

Diamond was quiet and still a moment, frozen in an attitude that belied her earlier laughter. Then she relaxed, consciously it seemed, and leant down for another sip of her tea.

“Nay, Mother,” she said softly when she had finished. “’Bert is not. Although,” she raised her eyes to glance merrily down the corridor, “it seems he is sweet on one of the lasses who works at the Smials.”

“It -- it is no longer a concern for me, lass,” Honeysuckle said wearily, withdrawing her hand and moving about to settle back in her chair. “It is your honor that your father and your brother and, I am sure, your husband, would be concerned with,” she said to her tea.

Diamond looked up from her own beverage to stare at her mother’s bent head. A flush came over her face, and she closed her eyes until it passed, and then opened them again to gaze calmly in Honeysuckle’s direction and state, “I am aware of my duty, Mother. Do you not think I shall behave honorably?” She raised her cup to her face but spoke before putting it to her lips. “Do you not trust me?”

“Child!” Honeysuckle cried out and surged in the chair so that her cup sloshes and the seat cushion slid forward as she clutched at the arm. “Child,” she said again, in a broken and heavy whisper, as she sat and watched her daughter drain and study the dregs in her cup.

“Well,” Diamond said calmly after a moment, finally pulling the cup away from herself and reaching for the teapot again, “I believe I had asked why Father and Ganelon and Jewel were not able to come for this visit.

“As we traveled to the Outlands last year,” she added as she sat back in the settee with a new cup of tea, “we have not seen any of you for over a year. It has been since the birthday party when I came of age, I believe.”

“Yes,” Honeysuckle agreed quietly, her eyes looking at something afar off. Then, “Yes,” she said again, and shook herself, returning her attention to the room. “I have missed you, child,” she said with a quiet tremble, picking at her skirt with the hand that did not hold her cup.

Diamond’s face softened, and she reached out her own hand to grasp her mother’s from where it lay in Honeysuckle’s lap. “And I have missed you, Mother,” she whispered simply.

The hobbitesses held each other’s hands and smiled at each other with there eyes as they each lifted their mugs and sipped. Then, when they had both set down their cups but still held hands, Honeysuckle gave a shaky smile at Diamond and said, “Your father so dearly wanted to come, Diamond, but he has so much to do after the harvest, and in stocking the store for the winter, that it just was not possible.

“And Ganelon must help him, and it was deemed that Jewel, at 24, start having some of the rudiments of responsibility for running a household. I had thought at first she would accompany me, but...no matter,” Honeysuckle trailed off and then concluded brightly, giving Diamond’s hand a squeeze.

“You must return to the North Farthing for a visit soon,” she added in the same tone, and then looked to her tea.

“Yes,” Diamond agreed softly, and a slight frown flitted across her own face as she glanced toward her lap, and then hastily toward her teacup and took a sip. “I’m sure we shall try.”

“Of course,” Honeysuckle continued brightly, not having seen Diamond’s actions, “if we have early snows this year that come in Winterfilth, the roads may be impassable so that I shall not be able to return to the North Farthing myself for quite some time. It was that as well as the harvest of 1429 which kept your father at home.” She gave a soft chuckle and looked to her daughter.

“Yes,” Diamond said nervously, and then it was her turn to look away and give a distracted sip to her tea. “I am glad you could come,” she said with her face turned away, “for Cap--” she swallowed and began again, “for Pippin does not wish me to be alone right now.”

“Diamond?” Honeysuckle asked when her daughter did not continue. She shot an uneasy glance toward the corridor and leaned forward to ask worriedly, “Lass?”

Diamond swallowed again, and set her teacup on the tray before her, then turned so that she was once again facing Honeysuckle and took her mother’s cup away as well. She reached to grasp both of Honeysuckle’s hands in hers. Then she took a deep breath.

“Lass?” Honeysuckle prompted again when a moment of silence followed. She began to lean toward her daughter with a mix of excitement and dread when Diamond suddenly giggled.

“Do you know,” she said, her eyes bright and a soft blush suffusing her cheeks, “I asked the cook to serve braised coney for supper one night not too long ago.”

Honeysuckle had opened her mouth, but Diamond giggled again and brought her mother’s hands over to rest near her own waist. “Mother,” she whispered with excitement and delight, “I am with child!”


“Mother?” Diamond asked as she at last pulled herself away from Honeysuckle’s silent embrace and reached for her hands once more. “Why are you crying?” she asked even though her own eyes were wet above her smile.

Honeysuckle, however, did not smile as she pulled one hand away to dash angrily at her cheek.

“Mother?” Diamond asked again in confusion, her smile fading, as Honeysuckle remained silent. “Are you not pleased?”

“Oh,” Honeysuckle said with vigor and swiped again at one eye. She reached out her hand to hover an inch away from Diamond’s cheek as she continued, “I knew always that you would do what is required, my lass,” she said softly, and brushed a thumb along Diamond’s cheek. “And I know you, and your family, will love the child that is to be.”

Diamond smiled then, briefly, and blushed as she looked down her front. Her mother, however, stayed silent, and curled her fingers to cup Diamond’s cheek.

When Diamond looked up again, Honeysuckle tightened her grip and stared steadily into Diamond’s eyes as she uttered, with fervor, “Oh, but I hope this babe will be a lad, so you must not need to suffer so again!”

“Mother?” Diamond gasped, her eyes wide, “shall it be so bad, then?

“I mean to say,” she added when Honeysuckle did not speak, “I know there shall be pain. But the healer says that when that is all over and done with, I shall no longer care that it is so. Mother?” Diamond’s eyes searched Honeysuckle’s face anxiously. “Is that not true?” She looked down again and placed a hand protectively over her belly.

“Diamond,” Honeysuckle sighed through the tears which continued to silently fall. She reached out to hug her daughter’s head to her bosom and began rocking herself unevenly back and forth in the chair. “My own precious lass.

“It is true, of course,” she said as she stroked Diamond’s curls, “that the child you bear comes to produce such love that you would rather it is you suffering the agonies of torment than the child, and that is as it must be to bring one into the world.”

Diamond twisted her head to look at her mother as Honeysuckle said, “And a mother, it seems, must continue to feel so, for that is my greatest regret that you and my younger are lasses, that you should suffer so.”

Diamond twisted her head again, and Honeysuckle could see that she frowned with worry and gripped her cheek again. “Oh, but my lass,” she said softly. “You have already been so brave.”

“Mother?” Diamond questioned and then, after a moment of silence, began casting about in her brain for an explanation. The pattern of her life, she knew, had been different from the one that other hobbitesses followed.

“Oh, but Mother,” she said eagerly, twisting round to sit back upon the settee and out of Honeysuckle’s arms. “It’s all right, really it is,” she assured now, reaching for Honeysuckle’s cheek in turn. “I have come to love Pippin, and he to love me,” she stated simply.

“Yes,” Honeysuckle sighed and bent her head forward onto her hands, to say from behind them, “and your father and I love each other as well.”

“Then what--” Diamond chewed her lip a moment before asking again, hesitantly, “what did you mean that I had already been brave?”

“Ah, child,” Honeysuckle sighed again and dropped her hands, then used them to draw both of Diamond’s again into her lap. “I -- I could not,” she began hesitantly, “tell to you the lies that were told to me.”

Diamond’s mouth had opened, and she would have questioned, “Lies?” but Honeysuckle squeezed her hands and said with determination, “I know what it is to be a hobbitess in the Shire, one who desires to follow the path laid out before her, with a hobbit of her own.

“And I know how it is to be giggling, and laughed at, with sisters and cousins and hobbitesses all, before we are wed, to think what may occur when at last we are, with our very own hobbit, alone behind the closed doors of our very own smial.

“Giggling!” she exclaimed, and did so herself, though it was sad. “It is a serious thing of which to make light, but it is the way of all hobbitesses to use light words when speaking of such.

“Except...” she squeezed Diamond’s hands even harder and looked deeply into her eyes. “Except I could not do so. I could not tell you, before you knew, yourself, of all the specifics and strike in you a fear of all your life would be, but neither could I not tell you true, that what it is other hobbitesses giggle at is pain, and burning -- such pain that it fills an honorable gentlehobbit like your father with regret -- and that,” here she dipped her voice to a whisper and seemed not to speak to Diamond at all, “that it intensifies so at the childbed you think you are going mad. Yes,” she whispered still, “yes, even if Ganelon had not been turned such as to break my hip, I would have thought it was so.”

Honeysuckle came back to herself and said, louder, “I did not tell you before you wed that it would be so. Please forgive me,” and she hung her head.

“Oh! Mother!” Diamond cried out and jumped from the settee to stand above Honeysuckle in the chair and embrace her. “How -- how horrid! I am so sorry for you, but -- but it is not so for me! I --”

She was blushing, but a light came into Diamond’s eyes, and she began tugging at Honeysuckle to remove her from the chair. “There is a lasses’ healer, here, and she helped me to know what to do. She must be able to help you as well, Mother, I am sure of it!”

Diamond looked wildly at her mother, who unsteadily extricated herself from the chair.

“I must now do as you think best, daughter,” Honeysuckle said with resignation as she rose. When standing, she placed a hand on Diamond’s cheek and said huskily to her, “There are many hobbitesses who are braver than I. I should be glad, I suppose, that you are one of them.

“But things,” she said and let her hand fall, shaking her head as she allowed Diamond to lead her, “things are as they are.”



Pippin reached up and snatched an apple as he strolled under the tree at the end of Crickhollow’s lane. He looked across the Shire, toward the west, for the the -- well, he wasn’t sure what number of times this made today, because he wasn’t counting. Was he?

He bit into the apple and stepped deftly aside as the pony came thundering in at the gate, kicking up dust as it went.

He sauntered behind, still eating the apple, as it headed toward the stables.

“I’ll thank you to let me spoil my own pony, Peregrin Took!” Estella said a few minutes later as she dismounted from walking the beast around in circles. She swatted Pippin’s hand away from the pony’s nose and took the apple core herself, whispering soft murmurings between the pony’s ears as it bent its head down to take the treat.

“So, I see you still ride, then,” Pippin said conversationally, leaning back against a nearby stall where his pony Sorrel dozed.

“Aye,” Estella said shortly and reached for the currycomb.

Pippin placed his hands in his pockets and wrinkled his brow as he looked toward the west, which Estella observed as she turned back to her pony, though Pippin did not notice her.

“Do you still jump, then?” he asked with a tone of concern as Estella lifted her eyes to see him again looking toward the west before she bowed her head to the comb.

“There is no reason not to,” she said quietly as she groomed the pony, then waited a beat before adding, “but I do not.”

She looked up at Pippin and opened her mouth, but it was a different question than she had started that came out. “So, where is Merry?” she asked lightly as she moved the comb along. “I thought you were here to visit with your cousin.”

“I am visiting with my cousin,” Pippin said with a grin. Estella shot him a look, which included her tongue making an appearance between her lips, and he laughed as she turned her attention back to the pony.

“He needed to stay at the Hall longer,” Pippin shrugged, “to tend to some more business about his birthday party and whatnot with Uncle Saradoc. I just decided to come back here.” He looked again toward the west as he finished.

“Hmm,” Estella said, looking at him in a different way now. As she bent toward the pony’s leg, she ask casually, “So, when is the babe expected?”

Pippin gave a start. “How -- how did you know?” he asked, bewildered, and then a grin spread across his face as he rocked back on his heels.

“Solmath, we think,” he said happily, “or mayhap Rethe.

“I didna want Diamond to travel,” he chattered happily on, “so that is why she couldna come. And her mother is visiting to the Smials, so she shallna be alone.” He rocked back and forth again, and also looked again west, this time with a smile on his face.

“Alone.” Estella rolled her eyes and blew a strand of hair out of her face. “At the Smials. Hoy,” she said in exasperation as she picked up another pony foot. “Pippin, you have three sisters. Have you ever known any of them to need a nursemaid when they were with child?”

“’Tis different,” Pippin said and stubbornly crossed his arms. He also sneaked another glance toward the direction of Tuckborough.

“Hoy,” Estella muttered in a whisper toward the pony’s hoof. “You’re one of the most different hobbits I know, Peregrin Took.”

Her head bent, she did not see that Pippin returned the look she had given him earlier -- the one with the protruding tongue.

“What about you?” Pippin asked a few moments later. “You and Merry with -- with expecting a babe,” he concluded and stuck his hands back in his pockets as he blushed.

Estella sighed and looked once at him before gazing back at her pony and replying, “That’s different, too.”

There was quiet for a moment, except for the animals’ whuffling, and then Estella finished her grooming of the pony and leaned her arm against it as she said to Pippin, “It is not something I wish to experience unless we are at Brandy Hall. And Merry does not wish to remove to the Hall.”

“’Twouldn’t -- ‘twouldn’t it be easier for such business as now if he were at the Hall as well?” Pippin asked slowly after a few moments, rocking his weight just as slowly from the front of his feet to the back.

“’Twouldn’t it be easier, Merry,” he turned and asked brightly as hooves clomped outside the stable and Merry led his pony in, “for your business, I mean, if you were to remove to the Hall?”

Estella busied herself with the currycomb and her pony again while Merry jovially answered, “Certainly not, Pip! There’s no need for such confinement yet.

“While you, my dear cousin,” he hugged Pippin’s head under one arm while holding to the pony’s lead with the other, “ may have been a bit of an afterthought to hobbits who are getting on in years and want to start setting things aright, my Da has seven years of age -- or, I should say, of youth -- upon yours, and stout Brandybuck constitution besides. There’s no need for more changes around here,” he concluded s he released Pippin from the awkward headlock of a hug and tousled his hair. “Things are quite fine as they are.”



Mistress Eglantine Took slid onto the banquette at the bake shop in Tuckborough and reached up to adjust her hat. Across the table sat her daughter, Pervinca Proudfoot.

“Hello, dear,” Eg said, having set the hat aright. Pervinca nodded distractedly as she leaned from her seat to snatch at Bramimond and rub the icing from his face.

“I...had not thought, perhaps, that I should be able to come for this market day, this month,” Eg said carefully as she drew her gloves from her fingers.

Pervinca’s eyes looked wildly at her for a moment, before she was again distracted by her children.

Nine-year-old Clover it was, this time, who demanded, “Mama, mayn’t we go down the street to the smithy’s? He has made a new puzzle, and will be showing it to all the children who’ve come in from the countryside today as the shops stay open, and hadn’t we ought to see it, too?” Six-year-old Bramimond and four-year-old Harcourt stood arrayed behind her, Bram clutching two-year-old Ivy in his arms. Clover looked pointedly at her mother and then turned to curtsy politely to Eg. “Hello, Grandmama,” she said.

Pervinca closed her eyes a moment and then stared back at her child just as pointedly. “Yes,” she agreed sternly, “you had ought to see it, I suppose. but mind you all come back soon and great your grandmother properly!”

“Yes, Mama,” they chorused, and with bobs of heads and scurries of feet, they were out the door.

Pervinca turned back to the table just as the bake shop owner was placing mugs of tea and plates of cake before her and her mother, and Eg murmured her thanks.

When that hobbit had gone, Pervinca began to dig her fork into her cake, only to stop when Eg said gently, “Pervinca, I don’t know if I shall be able to stay long enough to see the children again. I did mention that it had been hard for me to come a’tall.”

“Why?” Pervinca asked, holding her fork poised between her plate and mouth, her eyes guilelessly wide.

Eglantine sighed and fiddled with her cup before taking it up. “I do not like to leave your father,” she said into the depths of her tea. “He has good days and bad days, ‘tis true, and the bad are not so terrible nor so often that I wish to worry your brother yet, when--” she stopped and sipped at her tea, a soft smile alighting her face from within even in its sadness. “I worry, ‘tis all,” she concluded in a whisper.

Pervinca fiddled with her curls with one hand, and her fork with the other, conveying herself small bites of the cake, and the two ate in companionable silence for a few moments.

“I should hope,” Eg said with a strained smile as she finished her cake, “that you should fee the same about leaving your husband to fend, if the situation were ever to arise.”

Pervinca’s brow darkened, and she nibbled at her cake. “I dare say he should get along quite fine, with all the Proudfoot relations,” she muttered.

Eg’s smile faded, and she wrapped both hands around her mug to sip at her tea.

Pervinca looked up from her own mug a few seconds later to say, simply, “But, Mama, I thought you liked to meet upon market day.”

Eglantine smiled truly and placed one hand over her daughter’s. “Of course I do, dear. Why, ‘tis nearly the only time I get to see you,” she laughed and withdrew her hand to to place it round her mug again. “And the children, as well. I do love to see all my grandchildren, you know,” she said and smiled a funny smile again, her eyes wandering.

Pervinca saw, and wondered. She narrowed her eyes.

“Although ‘tis strange,” Eg laughed off her mood, “to see this particular lass of mine with four babes of her own. You were never so like to play with dollies, or to use your brother as one, as your sisters were.”

“Nay,” Pervinca whispered, using her fingers now to crumple the remains of her cake into smaller crumbs.

“Nay, ‘tis true,” Eg went lightly on. “You were too close in age, I suppose. I was more like to find you and Pippin tearing at each other’s hair beneath the nursery table.”

“Aye,” Pervinca grinned, and laughed, and then her smile faded and she brushed the last of the crumbs from her fingers as children’s voices were heard approaching. A wistful look was upon her face as she said to her mother, “There are some things a lass cannot control, I suppose.”

Chapter 22: The Hope

“’Tis all prepared, then?” Pippin asked, clutching at his wife’s elbow as she stopped to gasp for breath in their stroll around the sitting room.

“Aye,” Diamond said breathily. She straightened a bit from where she had leant over the table, one hand still rubbing her distended belly, and smiled tremulously at Pippin. she glanced toward their bed chamber as the couple began to slowly walk again and said, “Healer Willow and her lasses have made things ready for when it is time. You must only ring,” she nodded to the servants’ bells as her steps faltered before she resumed the pace, “and they shall be here.”

Pippin looked nervously from bells to wife to door and back to wife, maintaining a firm grip on her elbow as he turned to walk backward while facing her. His other hand reached to push back a lock of Diamond’s dark curls. “Shouldna she be here now?” he asked anxiously. “You seem hot to me. I mean, I dinna want to worry you. I mean, are you certain that you are all right? And the babe? Truly?”

He stopped his shuffling backward steps, his hand hovering still near Diamond’s hair, and peered intently into her face, his green eyes searching hers for any distress.

Diamond could not help it. She laughed.

“Truly,” she said softly as she reached up to clasp his hand against her face. “Healer Willow is not concerned, and so neither am I. All shall be well, and -- and if it ‘tisn’t,” she hesitated and lowered her voice and her eyes. “I shall do nothing to endanger your child.”

She quickly looked up again, just as Pippin’s mouth had opened and he was about to speak, and hastened to add, “Nor your wife, my darling. I--”

Here Diamond’s voice faltered, but it did not matter, for Pippin had closed any remaining gap between their faces, and their lips pressed together in a kiss which expressed the love abiding in her belly between them.

“Oh!” Diamond gasped sharply and broke the kiss as she bent double and clutched at her middle, with Pippin catching at her back to support her from behind.

A sharp rap on the door was followed immediately by the entrance of Healer Willow, who had not waited for a response. She went directly to Diamond, a lass carrying an armload of towels trailing behind her, and bent to look into the hobbitess’s grey-eyed face.

“All right,” Healer Willow said sharply, in a voice that creaked with age. She grabbed Diamond by the shoulders herself and called to her assistant -- “You can boil the towels on that hearth there,” she nodded to it, “and Mistress Eglantine will be along in a moment with the oil, if it is to be needed.

“Now it’s time to come along, dear,” she said to Diamond and began steering her toward the bed chamber. “One more peck and then you’ll need to go, sir,” she said brusquely to Pippin. “I’m afraid you’ll not be any good as a walker anymore. I mean, begging your pardon,” she said as he hastily kissed Diamond again and would have replied -- and she did not sound in any sense as if she were truly begging pardon -- “but this is lasses’ work from here on out.”

“But--” Pippin finally began to say, just as more hobbitesses came through the still-open doorway.

“’Scuse us, Pip,” Pimpernel said as she, Geranium, and Sage, who was well on her way to achieving as stout and sturdy a figure as the Second Cook’s, entered the quarters with their long winter sleeves rolled above their elbows and carrying among them one of the tubs from the bathing room. Trefoil, her frame slimmer than Sage’s but her arms still muscled from three years of cleaning at the Smials, followed behind carrying a bucket full of water in each hand.

“And excuse me as well, dear,” Eglantine Eglantine added as she followed them into the room clutching a stoppered vial. She paused briefly to kiss Pippin’s cheek and murmur, “Your father’s waiting for you, dear,” before pushing him into the corridor and leaving herself and the other hobbitesses on the other side of the closed door to Pippin and Diamond’s quarters.

“But--” Pippin spluttered toward the door, then, “Diamond!” he cried out, and stepped toward it.

A hand on his own elbow stopped him, and he looked only a short ways down to see the green eyes of his father.

“Well, Pip, what say you to an ale?” Paladin asked steadily, with a surprisingly firm grip for one who no longer ventured very often beyond the corridors in his own part of the Smials.

“Nay, thank you,” Pippin answered distractedly and headed for his door again.

“Peregrin!” Pad said sharply, and Pippin drew up short and turned to face him at the wheeze in the words that came afterward. “The Thain and The Took wishes you to take an ale with him.”

“Aye, Da,” Pippin said quietly as he finally stepped away from his door. He glanced back at it over his shoulder, though, after he had turned to walk now with his father, and ran the hand which did not clutch at the older hobbit’s arm backward through his curls, his teeth worrying his lips the while.

“We shall take our drink in the Thain’s offices,” Paladin said, ostensibly to Pippin, but he looked directly at the servanthobbit Bert standing behind his son as he said it.

“Aye, sir,” Bert mouthed, and nodded in acknowledgment as the Thain and the Heir followed the corridor away and the knots of servants and gentlehobbits standing along it busied themselves with polishing wall sconces or tried to duck back into doorways.

Bert himself was left standing at his post outside the Heir’s quarters, his feet planted firmly apart and his hands clasped behind his back, his own sleeves rolled up from his task of helping to carry the bathing tub to the spot in the corridor where the lasses had picked it up.

Bert was ready to do his part of fetching Mr. Pippin when needed, but still he cringed when the door opened and hoped his ears wouldn’t hear nothin’ that, well, that they didn’t need to.

‘Twas just Trefoil that came out of the door, though, and latched it behind her. She gave Bert a mighty odd look, he thought, afore she lifted up her apron and her skirts and took off running toward whatever errand she’d been sent upon.


“Aye! ‘Tis done then, lass,” Healer Willow said, patting Diamond on the shoulder. Diamond looked up from where she lay, her curls sprawled about the pillows, as the healer continued. “The tenth of Solmath. You’ll be wanting to remember that, even if you’ve had other things on your mind as of late.”

“Shall,” Diamond’s small voice caught on a breath, and she shifted uncomfortably. “Shall I forget the feeling of being nearly cleaved in twain?” she asked as tears came unbidden to her eyes.

“Now, dearie,” Willow smiled and patted her shoulder again. “You’ll be all right.” Her wrinkled face broken into a grin as she added, “And so will your lad.”

“Oh!” Diamond gasped as some of the exhausted muddle in her head began slightly to clear. “Where is he? Why haven’t you got my babe?” she demanded of the healer.

“Now, lass,” Willow replied easily as she withdrew her hand and began to ease herself out of the room, “’tis quite all right, as the Mistress has got him.”

“Indeed I do, Diamond,” Eglantine said as she came to take Willow’s place standing beside the bed. She carried a bundle of blankets in her arms. “Would you like to hold him again?”

Diamond merely nodded, her eyes shining, as Eglantine propped the pillows behind her so that she might sit up and then placed the blankets into Diamond’s arms and sat, herself, on the edge of the bed next her daughter-in-law.

“I am sorry,” Diamond said after a few moments in which they both stared at the tiny face peeking from among the blankets. She did not tear her eyes away from the sight as she said it.

Eg laughed gently and put one arm around Diamond, leaning over to hug her and to plant a kiss atop her daughter-in-law’s curls. “’Tis all right, lass,” she said happily as she returned to staring at the babe. “’Tis different for every hobbitess, and each must react as she must. This” -- she reached out with one fingertip to gently tap the babe’s nose, which produced a wide yawn from the tiny mouth which had both hobbitesses giggling.

“This,” Eg continued with a smile when they had finished, “’tis all that matters.”

“I wish he would open his eyes,” Diamond whispered toward the babe, from whom she had not looked away once since he was in her arms. She smoothed a hand over the dark fuzz atop his head, barely enough there even to curl.

“I daresay you shall see enough of them in the years to come to know what color they are,” Eg replied happily.

Diamond nodded, then clutched the babe to her bosom tightly for a moment, her eyes closed, as she whispered fiercely, “’Tis a lad!”

She eased the babe back down to her lap again, and her eyes opened to gaze upon him once more as she asked hesitantly, “Do -- do you think Pippin will be proud of me?”

A lump came to Eg’s throat, and she hugged and kissed her daughter-in-law again as she whispered back, “I am sure he is. And would be, whether ‘twas a lad or no!”

Diamond nodded, and glanced up toward Eglantine, her lips parted to ask a question--

“He has been told,” Eg responded to it unasked, “and sent for, and I am sure is on his way.”

Diamond nodded and looked back again to the babe. “Pippin is to have the naming of him, for certain now that the babe is born a lad,” she said quietly as she stroked a small cheek.

Eg grinned, and then laughed at the memories. “’Tis that so?” she asked. “Well, I shall hope, then, that he has outgrown his plans to name his children such things as ‘Plum’ or ‘Pudding.’

“Well, ‘Plum’ would be more fitting for a lass, anyway, I suppose,” she continued, grinning again at the appalled look Diamond turned toward her, “but aye, ‘tis true, lass.

“O’ course, his father was nay a quick-witted hobbit when it came to choosing names, either. ‘Tis a good thing Pad had thought of ‘Peregrin’ when first we were expecting Pearl, for the only names we had chosen were ‘Posy’ or ‘Petal’ when our unexpected lad arrived.”

“Diamond!” came the shout from the sitting room of the quarters, and Pippin came running into the bed chamber, skidding to a stop beside the bed. Eglantine hastily removed herself from his way as he bent to take Diamond’s face in his hands. The Mistress of the Smials quietly left the room, pulling the door shut behind her, as Pippin kissed Diamond deeply with the passion of relief and of joy.

When at last he pulled his face away, but kept his hands upon her cheeks, he immediately began asking questions.

“Are you all right? The message said you were, but ‘tis it true?”

Diamond had only time to nod before he rushed on. “And -- and.” He suddenly sat down heavily upon the bed and stared with wide eyes at the slightly squirming blankets Diamond held.

He looked at her, and she nodded again, biting the lower lip of her smile.

“A lad,” Pippin breathed out and look to Diamond for reassurance as he bent over to look at all that was visible: a tiny face screwed up into a displeased expression.

“Oh,” Pippin sighed in wonder, and “oh” again, and did not move from his staring for some moments.

“Pippin?” Diamond said softly at last, then, when he did not seem to hear her, she touched his curls above the tip of his ear and asked again, “Husband? Would you like to hold him?”

Pippin nodded silently, awestruck, and settled himself back against the pillows next to Diamond, and she pressed the babe and the blankets into his lap.

Pippin trembled slightly as he held the babe, and his wife leaned her head against his shoulder. His grin was like a sunbeam, even as happy tears fell from his eyes onto the small, upturned face. “Our son,” Pippin said with reverence.

The babe then grunted, as he had been doing occasionally, and wrinkled his face again, twisting it away from the tears that fell, so that both grown hobbits laughed at him.

“We have made a hobbit cub,” Pippin said in a jesting tone and turned a cheeky grin to Diamond to add, “Mayhap we should call him ‘Cullenin.’”


(6 Months Later)

“Well, Sam, it looks as if you were the first to have a Pippin-lad after all,” Pippin Took said among the hobbits milling about the Thain’s office. He held his own son in his arms as he stood, ignoring the twinges caused in his knee by the jouncing that the babe seemed to like.

“Aye, but not by much,” Sam said equably, and smiled as he swooped the babe he held in his own arms toward the small Took. Both lads’ eyes widened as they caught sight of each other, and Pippin Gamgee stuck his fingers in his mouth, and Faramir Took let out a squeal, although that could have been due to the jouncing.

“Two months afore ain’t naught at all,” Sam continued. “Why, if this one” -- he shifted his grip so that he could wave Pippin-lad’s hand toward the Tooks -- “had’a waited just a day or two more, mebbe, they would’ve been born in the same year right enough.”

“Aye,” Pippin said, making Farry wave back. Then he leaned over and whispered to Sam’s babe, but loud enough to be heard, “but you wanted to be among the Yule presents, did you not? We shall have to have a talk some day about such birthdays, you and I.”

Sam chuckled as another tall hobbit strode up behind Pippin and clapped him lightly on the back.

“It’s your parents that Sam will be wanting to speak to, cousin,” Merry said, “to find out how they managed to contain you with the excitement of all those Yule and birthday parties falling in a row.”

“Hoy, Merry,” Pippin said as he stood back up and turned Faramir in his arms so that the babe was facing him. Straightening Faramir’s clothing, Pippin said, with a straight face, “I am eminently containable.”

Merry and Sam looked at each other and laughed, and Pippin grinned as well as he joined in.

“So,” Merry said, giving each of his friends’ babes a pat on the head, “I can see you’ve brought his namesake.” He patted Pippin atop the head, too, taking advantage of the fact that he could easily reach, and ignored the scowl that produced as Pippin reached one hand up to smooth back his curls while clutching Faramir in the other. “Where’s mine?”

Sam smiled in amusement at the cousins’ byplay and nodded both his head and Pippin-lad’s hand toward a cluster of hobbitesses. “Rosie’s got Merry-lad today,” he said, and indeed Rose was holding the faunt while chatting with Estella and Diamond. Five-year-old Rose-lass, 7-year-old Frodo-lad, and 9-year-old Elanor took turns hanging about near their mother’s skirts and following after Pippin’s 13-year-old niece Aster to see if they could fit beneath the desk.

Pervinca’s Ivy, who had just left the faunt years behind, and 5-year-old Harcourt occasionally tried to follow the game, but 7-year-old Bram and 9-year-old Clover quickly pulled them back toward their other cousins, Pearl’s children, and scowled at Aster.

Pearl, Pimpernel and Pervinca stood chatting in another cluster, with their husbands nearby, and other hobbits were grouped about the room, including the North-Tooks. Indeed, Diamond excused herself from Rosie and Estella, and went to speak to her family.

“It does well, in a way, to have ‘em be this close in age,” Sam said, still waving Pippin-lad’s hand toward his brother Merry’s. “Leastwise, we always know where everythin’ is when we be needin’ it again,” he laughed.

Merry Brandybuck grinned, too, and held out his arms toward Pippin. “Well, seeing as how there’s enough to go around, what say I hold my very young cousin for a while?” he asked.

“Nay, Merry,” Pippin laughed, bouncing Farry a bit in his arms. “Not today, as of yet, you know,” he added. Then, with another laugh, he lifted Farry above his head a moment and grinned at the lad, but cut his eyes sideways toward Merry as he said, “Get your own.”

Merry glanced quickly toward Estella, who he thought had been looking in his direction a moment earlier, but it seemed he was mistaken, for her back was now turned.

“So, where is Uncle Paddin, Pip?” he asked abruptly. “I thought he was as eager as you to get Farry’s name written into the Yellowskin.”

“He is,” Pippin replied, low, making his arms into a cradle and rocking Farry back and forth in them. He looked toward the babe as he said, “He’s resting, Merry. ‘Tis hard for him, anymore, this kind of occasion.”

“I’m sorry, Pip,” Merry said, and squeezed Pippin’s shoulder in support, while Sam blinked back tears s he thought of the Gaffer, gone these two years past -- but not afore he’d seen his youngest son made Mayor of the Shire, and Master of Bag End. It hurt, still, that it was Mr. Frodo’s leavin’ as had made all that possible, but who’d’a thought it of him, Sam Gamgee? As the Gaffer hisself used to say, it were an ill wind that blew a body no good, and the stories resultin’ from Sam’s comin’ up in the world that the Gaffer had lived on at The Ivy Bush in the last year of his life...well. That were some good to come out of it, at least.

When Sam blinked again, Master Saradoc had materialized beside Merry, and it were the two of them now leaning over and talking about Faramir Took. Master Saradoc was looking mighty fine and spry for a hobbit of 90. Sam figured it would be a good many years before Merry experienced the kind of loss he’d already had, and that Pippin looked to be facing soon.

“So, what do you think, Uncle Sara?” Pippin asked, holding the babe straight out before him with a grip under the armpits.

“Impressive,” Saradoc answered with a smile as he used his pocket-handkerchief to wipe up the remains of a large spit bubble of which Farry seemed quite proud, his green eyes twinkling underneath his sprinkling of dark curls as he chortled. “Has the Took gift for conversation already, I see.”

Merry was the one who chortled at that, sidestepping away from Pippin as his eyes swept the room for his mother.

“Speaking of which,” Saradoc continued, “I know it’s done in the family to give high-sounding names, and I know that Faramir is a prince of the Outlands, but why that name in particular?”

Pippin shifted part of his attention, as did everyone in the room, as his father entered with his mother upon his arm and made his way to the seat behind the desk.

“Prince Faramir loved someone we both knew and lost,” Pippin said softly to his uncle, and Merry gently squeezed his shoulder again as Pippin looked back at him with compassion in return.

“’Twas so even before he took his father’s place as Steward of the King,” Pippin went on, turning his eyes now to watch as Paladin took the Yellowskin from atop the desk and placed it in his lap. As the old hobbit sat gazing at his lap, Pippin locked his eyes upon him and said, “Be--because Faramir understands.”

Pippin’s green eyes remained locked on his father’s throughout the ceremony, tears glistening in both sets above the smiles. Pippin held open, in front of his father, the book from which Paladin recited the words. Paladin, in turn, cradled Faramir in his arms now, one hand placed upon the lad’s head, just as, forty years ago, he he had done for his own son. This time, though, the room was filled with not only hobbits, but hobbitesses,a and families, each of which watched from their own groupings.

Eglantine stood at Paladin’s elbow, her eyes flicking from her grandbabe to her own little lad, who must have been so tiny when he was first brought to this room, but was all grown now so that he towered over nearly every other hobbit in the room. Diamond, in turn, stood at Pippin’s elbow, her eyes fixed now upon her husband, now her son, as Paladin pressed Faramir’s small, ink-stained foot upon the pages of the Yellowskin and intoned,

“Heir to The Thain and to The Took is Faramir Took, son of Peregrin, of the Great Smials of the West Farthing of the Shire.”

When the ceremony had concluded and the hobbits had broken up again into laughing, chatting groups, Gerin North-Took approached his daughter and Pippin.

Diamond smiled at her father, who had already spoken to her earlier in the day, and then looked down so that her soft smile was turned toward her son, asleep now in her arms.

“Sir, I--” Gerin began to address Pippin and then, in sudden fervor, he grabbed Pippin’s right hand in both of his and clasped it tightly. “Thank you,” he said, and there were tears in this hobbit’s eyes, too.

“The lad there,” he nodded toward Faramir. “Well, when he becomes Thain--not for a long time to come, we should hope!” he added quickly--”well, when he becomes Thain, he’ll have North-Took in him, a thing that carries a great deal of importance to some. They will know about it from now forward and, well, it shall make things easier between the Farthings, I do so dearly hope. And so -- so thank you,” he concluded, squeezing Pippin’s hand a bit more tightly yet.

A slow grin spread across Pippin’s face, and he then lunged forward to engulf Gerin not in a handshake, but in a hug. “’Tis I who thank you,” he laughed into Gerin’s ear, “for the gift of such a daughter.”

Across the room, Ganelon raised his head from where he had been examining the inscription in the Yellowskin which marked Diamond’s babe, quite definitively now, as the Heir to The Took and The Thain.

He saw that other Heir embracing his father in the familiar ways of common hobbits, and saying something no doubt patronizing into the old ear. Ganelon’s lips curled into a sneer, and he scanned the room for the one of the bunch that might have a sense of pride.

Catching Pervinca’s eyes at last, Ganelon tilted his head slightly toward Pippin and Diamond.

Pervinca, too, looked over to see Pippin emerging from a hug with his North-Took father-in-law. ‘Twas, she began to think, a bit odd...but then she quashed that thought. Nonsense, she told herself. ‘Twas nothing. Pip was like to hug anyone; after all, he had never been known for his discriminating tastes.

Pervinca then looked elsewhere in the room, and she saw Pimpernel and Everard playfully shoving each other and laughing, and Pearl emerging from another embrace, that of her husband, and giggling like a much younger lass.

Then Pervinca caught sight of her own husband, standing straight as a rod as he discussed something with Uncle Saradoc. His eyes never strayed in her direction, and she knew that they would not.

Pervinca stepped to place herself at an angle where she could no longer see Pippin and Diamond, but she could meet Ganelon’s steady gaze. She nodded.

Chapter 23: Valley of Diamond’s

Diamond’s bare feet stepped softly about the edges of her childhood room in North-Took Tunnelings. She tilted a note toward the early light from the window so she could read it once more, then folded it small and tucked it deep within the pocket of her frock.

She hummed softly a bit as she removed her son, now near 18 months old, from the cot next the bed. Farry burbled one or two of his nonsense words, then fall back asleep in her arms.

Pippin, too, exhausted by continually mounting responsibilities at the Smials before this holiday, muttered something in his sleep as he shifted on the bed.

Diamond smiled at him as well as she bent to softly kiss the forehead of this dear, great lad, then she quietly eased herself and Farry out of the room, holding the door so it did not “snick” as it shut behind her.

She was walking, a short while later, on a path through Bindbale Wood where it had been long since her feet had trod. The late summer sun glinted in patches of heat and light through the leaves while the wood itself provided a contrast of coolness and shade. Diamond could hear the birdsong and smell the fresh green scents of her childhood as she easily kicked aside any small sticks in the path. She smiled, and allowed herself a quiet laugh as she remembered earlier trips through these woods.


“Hoy! Good morning, then!” Pippin called out cheerily as he stepped into the North-Tooks’ kitchen. He would have picked up his wife about the waist and swung her about, he felt, but she was nowhere in sight. He stuck his hands in his pockets and twirled himself about instead, then laughed. “Good morning!” he repeated with just as much cheer.

“A good morning to you as well, Sir -- Pippin,” Gerin replied with a smile from where he lingered at the breakfast table.

The maid, in turn, bobbed a smiling curtsy as Pippin seated himself and she set a plate before him. “And thank you, Nettie,” Pippin added as he dug in to the griddlecakes and strawberry preserves upon his plate, with hot, buttered plums served in a dish to the side.

He ate heartily for a few moments, Gerin sipping at his tea and reading from a ledger upon the other side of the table, before casting his attention to the other occupant of the kitchen.

“What ‘tis it you’re seein’ outside that window?” Pippin asked of Ganelon, who had drawn up a chair to a spot where he could look out as he sipped from his own mug of tea.

The North-Tooks’ Heir took another sip and swallowed before responding, without looking at Pippin, “As you say, sir, it is a good morning.”


Diamond had to laugh a bit again as she raised her arms and used both hands to brush away the leaves from a low branch which had become tangled in her curls. She certainly was taller than the lass she’d been when following this path before!

‘Twas a bit funny, Diamond thought as she pushed away another branch which hung in the path of her travels -- and then she had to laugh at that: thinking “’twas” like a Took, instead of all she’d been taught as a proper North-Took -- anyway, she mused to herself as her feet carried her on, ‘twas a bit funny that she was looking back to her childhood haunts on account of a letter she’d received because she was Peregrin’s wife.

She’d been taught, all those years when she was a tween, that her betrothal to Captain Peregrin, the future Thain of the Shire, meant that she would have to put away such childish and undignified trampings.

Now, of course, it seemed she had learned better. Diamond felt sure that Pippin would have been perfectly willing to accompany her on this jaunt, had she told him of it.

Ah, but she hadn’t, she smiled to herself, pushing aside more leaves as she walked, because it was meant for a surprise.

Diamond patted her pocket, catching sight of the tiniest shimmer of a rustle in the underbrush as she glanced down. That pocket held the note from Mistress Pervinca which had sent her upon this errand.

Friends she might be, now, with Pippin’s sister Nellie, but Diamond had never felt particularly close to the others. Perhaps that was why Pervinca, too, felt more comfortable including the note to Diamond with a letter she had sent to Pimpernel.

Nellie had thought it a bit odd, too, she had shrugged, when she handed it over, but upon reading it Diamond was glad that Pervinca seemed to be reaching out -- and with a suggestion that would make her Pippin happy! She had not known he was likely to have such a fondness for the white color of the valerian flower that Pervinca had heard might grow in the North Farthing.

Presenting him with some upon the occasion of their next visit, if they ever got the chance to visit Diamond’s home, might make a nice surprise, Pervinca had suggested.

And when, shortly after, a letter addressed to both Diamond and Pippin from her father had inquired whether they might be able to make the trip again to the North Farthing this Wedmath, the plan for this morning’s little expedition seemed to fall judiciously in place.

Ah! Diamond thought at last as she came to the end of her wooded path and stood upon the edge of a rise which dipped down into a valley. This spot was a sort of clearing in the woods which received the full effect of the sun in the hours midday, and Diamond felt the sudden intensity of the warmth as she started to descend the hillside.

She felt, a moment later, a deep compulsion to look back over her shoulder at the path where she had exited the woods. How narrow and dark seemed that wooded path! Diamond thought with surprise.

She shrugged, but she had an odd and uneasy feeling when an even stranger thought occurred as she walked toward the bottom of the valley — who might there be, here, to guard her from behind?


Pippin leaned back against the smial, his feet propped on another small bench before him and pipe in his mouth.

Ah, ‘twas nice to sit here a while in the quiet of the woods. ‘Twas a more comfortable visit this time, to be sure. Like as not, though, any hobbit would warm up with the addition of a grandbabe, Pippin thought with a grin as he drew his pipe out of his mouth and blew a ring of smoke. ‘Twas not a surprise, then, that Mistress North-Took and her daughter Jewel had been fussing about the babe all the day, nor that Gerin had contrived an excuse a few moments ago to leave off his own pipe-smoking to go in search of something within the smial -- conveniently, Pippin was sure, within reach of the sounds and sight of the splashing Farry in his bath.

He grinned again and brought his pipe back to his lips, puffing upon it contentedly. He would let them have a bit of time with the lad with just the family, as it were, for despite Gerin’s newfound comfort with him, Pippin knew that he was still not quite thought of as such -- and, he thought as his eyes trailed over to where Ganelon appeared to be re-coiling a rope upon the outside of the stable, ‘twas like, in some quarters, that he ne’er would be.

At least, he thought, closing his eyes a moment to enjoy the scent of his pipesmoke and the sounds of the birds’ songs, at least he had Merry, as it would seem he should never else gain a brother of the heart.

That heart, though, certainly had been captured -- and he thanked the Valar for’t -- by his wife! Pippin opened his eyes again and smiled indulgently toward the woods where she had gone to walk. ‘Twas good for Diamond, as well, to have some time away from the Smials and its many hobbits who pressed upon her.

As was good for himself, too, Pippin thought, even if ‘twas to mean that the North-Tooks’ maidservant might have to change her day of rest for another, this fortnight.

“Hoy!” he jumped up, clutching his pipestem in his mouth as Nettle appeared at the kitchen door he sat near. “Let me gi’e you a hand, then, wi’ that,” Pippin muttered around the pipe as he caught the edge of the basin Nettle struggled with, and helped her to pour the water out upon the ground of the kitchen garden, its drops glistening upon the herbs, the rosebushes, and the valerian beneath their feet.

‘A servant again!’ Ganelon thought as he finished re-coiling the rope and looked up to see this action of Pippin’s from across the yard. ‘A servant!’ he thought, and ferociously slapped the rope down upon its nail.

A sneer was upon his face as Ganelon whispered to the rope, casting another sidelong glance at Pippin as he did so, “Whatever you may lose here today, at least I’m sure no wife or ‘lady friend’ will hear you boasting, safe in your lands again.” He kept one hand upon the rope but turned his face toward Pippin, a wicked smile splitting it, to conclude, with dripping sarcasm, “Your triumphs here will not be on parade.”

Time, now, to put the plan into further action, Ganelon thought. He rubbed his hands together as he left the rope and began to walk toward Pippin.


Diamond had taken a large kerchief from her pocket, and placed into it the sprays of white blossoms as she knelt to gather them in the sun. It was too bad, she thought, that she had not known of Pippin’s preference for the white blossoms when she tended her garden plots, either here in the North Farthing or at the Great Smials. The reddish-pink variety were more showy, it was true, but also more common -- and she had learned, she thought, that Pippin’s tastes in such as flowers could certainly be as uncommon and surprising as his taste in -- well, in hobbitesses named for precious gems, she thought with a soft smile, and pushed away a curl from her forehead with a dirty hand.

She started a bit as she saw the smudge upon her white skin as she brought her hand back down again, but then the smile returned. As much as it were not fitting for the wife of the Thain’s Heir to be seen in such a disarrayed and grubby state as was she, Diamond knew that Pippin would not care. She did, herself, as she knew it reflected not well upon him, and her family would be disappointed at her appearance when she returned, but that was only because they wished that Diamond please her husband.

Diamond, too, wished still, from both training and desire, to please her Pippin. She made a critical assessment of the flowers in her kerchief. Yes, enough there for a pretty show, and she had dug enough for seeds and cuttings to plant at the Smials as well. Perhaps, Diamond thought, looking at the roots she would dry to add to the healer’s stores, she might gift a few of the flowers to Mistress Pervinca, for planting at her home as well.

Diamond began to stand when something a bit farther toward the bottom of the valley, where trickled a small creek, caught her eye. She began to approach this odd thing peering from beneath a leafy bush, when another plant nearby distracted her again.

Oh! Diamond thought, how could she have not seen? This patch of love-in-a-mist would be the perfect addition to the bouquet she prepared for Pippin. She stepped toward the stems with their lacy leaves, reaching out to gather some of the those with their pointed blue petals remaining on the flowers and some with the round seedpod standing proudly where the flower had once been.

Her steps came even nearer the bush which had first attracted her attention and, just as she stepped to crouch before it, Diamond felt a sudden tightening about her ankle.

Diamond ignored it at first, reaching to fill her arms again with flowers. When she attempted to move to reach some blooms farther away, and found that she could not, she frowned and set her bundle down, gently parting the grasses which grew about her foot -- to see the surprising sight of a rope coiled about her ankle.

Diamond continued frowning as her fingers teased the rope around her ankle, which it encircled like a bracelet. She pulled at it but, despite the fact that it had so obviously slipped on, it refused to come off. She worried at the knot which formed the circlet, but could not budge it. She stood upright and tugged slightly, but found she could not move from the spot where she was tethered.

Diamond crouched again and felt along the ground for the rope’s path. It led, however, farther away than she could follow with her motion limited, this strange snare to be found here.

Diamond’s heart hiccuped as she again caught sight of what had first drawn her attention to this bush: there, peeking from under it, was a kerchiefed bundle in a basket.

Diamond sat upon the ground and drew the basket out from under the bush, untying the kerchief to examine its contents. Meat, and bread, and cheese, enough to last the day, and a bottle which now held ginger beer but could be refilled with water from the brook if she stretched out her arm.

She was puzzled, and frowned further in confusion as she lifted the side of the kerchief and found tucked below in the basket a note, in handwriting she recognized as her brother’s.


“She shall not come back to you, you know,” Ganelon said with a touch of pride as he stood before Pippin, who was once more resting, with his eyes closed, upon the bench.

“What?” Pippin started, fumbling to catch his pipe as he blinked at Ganelon standing above him. “What do you mean?” he asked, as odd tendrils of doubt began to worm their way through his heart.

“Diamond,” Ganelon shrugged. “She has been gone long enough that she should be back by now -- if she meant to return to you, that is,” he said as he struggled against the smile which itched to play about his lips.

“But I doubt that she shall,” he continued, crowing inwardly as Pippin tamped out his pipe and dropped it carelessly aside as he stood before Ganelon, his hands starting to clench at his sides.

“She has done her duty by producing you an Heir,” the North-Took went on. “That is what the North-Tooks needed,” he said more harshly, “and now the child is here, where he shall learn of what by rights should be his and mine.”

Ganelon sneered in the face of Pippin desperately casting about his eyes toward the woods, unable to discern which path might have taken Diamond away. He strode then determinedly toward his pony Sorrel, grazing in the yard, as Ganelon’s scornful voice called from behind, “Think you we care of any shame that should be thine?”

Pippin whirled, yanking his pony’s tether out of the ground, and faced Ganelon with a mien that was no longer that of a relaxed hobbit upon holiday. Instead, his brow had an air of ferocity and of command about it as he demanded, “Tell me which way she has gone!”

The gloating smile began in the middle of Ganelon’s lips and spread as they curved upwards. He drew back his finger to point unerringly at the path closest to Pippin, nearest the spot where Ganelon had re-stored the rope.

“There,” he said with what purported to be an indifferent shrug. “If you can find her. For she is more familiar with these woods than you might be.”

Pippin nodded curtly and drew the pony into the stable. Looking over his shoulder, Pippin saw Ganelon still loitering about in the yard, a suspicious smile on his face, and Pippin withdrew his sword from where it had been hidden in the carriage, safely away from prying little hands, and buckled it about his waist. He reached for the saddle, next, in preparation for retrieving his and child from this place that had ceased to offer rest.

And he froze, his hand still upon the saddle’s pommel where it hung on the wall, then pushed upon the gate of a stall to mount himself saddle-less on Sorrel’s back, galloping forth from the stables in the direction of the scream which had rent the air.

Pippin spared not a glance for the fading smile of Ganelon, nor for the confused outpouring of North-Tooks from the kitchen door, as Diamond screamed again and he followed her voice, toward the path farthest from the one which he had been shown.


Diamond had not the chance to read the note before something else entirely drew her attention yet again.

She sucked in her breath in a gasp of fear, and backed away as much as she could from the bush, her ankle still caught tight, until she fell to land upon her backside, her heart trembling and eyes tearing as they stared, wide, at a particular branch of the bush.

The adder had curled herself about it, her skin glistening black in the sun, while the white tips of her fangs again echoed the light. Clearly visible were these sharp points of venom, as the snake’s mouth was open in her own agony, her belly slithering from within as a triangular head with its dark brown pattern of zigzag emerged from it.

Less than half the size of its mother’s sinuous length, the new young adder opened its own mouth, already filled with fangs more venomous still than the adult’s, and dropped to the ground, its tongue flicking as it began to squirm away. As soon as that first youngling’s tail had left its mother’s belly, though, came the immediate replacement at the opening of another scaly head poking through, its tongue, too, sweeping across its fangs, and its motion toward the ground heading it in a different direction from its sibling’s.

Diamond screamed.


Pippin was beyond caring that ‘twas no proper way to treat a sword, to hack at the branches which overhung the path with one hand whilst clinging to Sorrel’s mane with the other and to the pony’s flanks with already-protesting knees.

Nay; what was to care about was to get to his wife and cease her echoing screams. They resolved into words as he galloped farther along the trail: Diamond’s voice, shrieking his name with terror and supplication.

“Pippin!” she cried.

He had not breath enough to answer her but, with his ankles, he spurred his pony and galloped forward, leaping a mighty ditch around brook.

The pony’s feet came to rest atop a rise which dipped into a valley, and Pippin could see his precious Diamond somehow trapped on the ground below him. He urged the pony onward again into the gorge, calling out with what breath he could muster as the front hooves splashed through the water, “Diamond!”

She, in turn, twisted so that she could see his approach and held out a hand, screaming again at him, “Pippin! Stop!”

Pippin yanked back on Sorrel’s mane, and struggled to hold onto his balance as the pony not only answered to his command, but reacted on its own to Diamond’s entreaty, shying away from where she lay with a shriek of its own.

Pippin looked wildly about for the enemy as he regained control of the pony, only to have Diamond shout up at him, in her tear-strained voice, “Snakes!”

Pippin’s throat filled with bile as he looked to where she pointed, the bush in front of her with a snake dripping from its branches while a mess of wriggling vipers formed below it, Diamond’s body shrunk back from the nest as far as she could, except for one foot, which--

“I am trapped,” she sobbed up to Pippin, and he caught sight of the rope about her ankle and gave a roar of rage.

Pippin’s sword descended, its blade glinting in the sun against the light caught by the snakes’ white teeth, and he slashed through both the white rope which trailed away from Diamond’s ankle and the black head of an adder which had approached the closest to that foot.

“Diamond!” he called as he hung from the pony, menacing the bloodied blade before the other snakes which might be drawn to the motion. “Grab my waist and climb on!” Diamond gulped against the knot of fear still in her throat and scrambled away from the snakes which still pursued her.

She followed Pippin’s order and swung herself up behind him. Heedless of her disheveled appearance or the undignified manner of her ride, she clutched frantically to his waist from behind, letting her Peregrin carry her aloft as, upon the back of the pony, they flew from the deep bottom of the valley.

Diamond clutched still to Pippin as they galloped through the woods, the branches whipping against them, until, at last, his pulls and entreaties caused the pony to stop.

Pippin himself did not stop, though, vaulting from the pony’s back to land with a wince upon the ground, where he wiped the sword blade through some fallen leaves to clean from it the snake’s blood. Jamming the sword then back into his belt, he twirled once more to face Diamond and, his arms about her waist, lifted her from the back of the pony into his embrace.

Diamond leaned into the hug as she still trembled, lifting her feet above the ground as Pippin held her crushed to him in the air. She pressed back with as deep a passion as he when Pippin placed their sweaty lips together in a long kiss beneath the trees.

His green eyes were wild when at last he broke the kiss and and pulled back to look into her grey ones.

“Diamond,” he began in earnest, and she could feel him trembling, whether from fatigue or more, even as he held her up. “I -- first, are you all right?” he asked beseechingly, his eyes searching her face for any sign of pain.

“I--” Diamond sobbed, and cautiously shifted so that her feet touched the ground. She looked fearfully about her, still in search of snakes, and trembled still as she leaned against Pippin. “I am all right. They did not -- did not bite me,” she concluded in a whisper, and shuddered as she closed her eyes against a threatening swoon.

She opened them again to Pippin’s caress of her dirt-smudged forehead, to see tears upon his face and an odd expression as he asked haltingly, “Diamond, I -- I have to know. Is’t your wish to leave me?”

Diamond felt the blood drain from her face, and her insides grow cold at the horror of this suggestion. And then her heart both leapt and broke, for she recognized the expression she saw upon her darling’s face: fear.

“Pippin,” Diamond said gently, and she ceased to tremble as she caressed in turn the curls upon his forehead, her gaze meeting his clear and strong. “I made a promise, to love, forever if I may, and I have no wish to break it.”

Pippin stared at her for a long moment, then sobbed, laying his face in the crook of her neck, as he muttered, “Forgive this fool of a hobbit, Diamond. ‘Tis just that--” he whispered, and she stroked the curls upon the back of his head -- “that Frodo did leave, and Gandalf, and Boromir, too...” his voice trailed off. “And, at times, it seems as if Merry being in Buckland might as well be twice the length of the Shire. ‘Tis just -- just --”

He stopped, and Diamond patted his back encouragingly before prompting with a soft, questioning, “Yes?”

Pippin drew his head away from Diamond’s shoulder to turn his face once again toward hers. He did not meet her eyes, but looked down as he muttered, “I cannae do it all without you -- without someone I love -- beside me. I am nae strong enough on my own.”

“Oh, Pippin,” Diamond sighed, and reached to tilt up his chin and kiss him with a trust in his strength that was meant to put the lie into those words.

He stumbled a bit as they broke apart, and she caught at his elbow, from habit, supporting him against the betrayal of his knee.

“What--” it was Diamond’s turn to ask, timidly, as Pippin turned to the side and tried to compose himself, brushing a hand across his face to wipe away the tears. “What was it, though, my husband, which brought this question on today?”

“Oh,” Pippin answered as he tucked his shirttail into his trousers, “’twas aught your brother said.”

“My brother?” echoed Diamond, and looked down, turning her foot out beneath her skirts to once again regard the rope encircling it.

“Aye,” Pippin answered grimly, catching sight of where she looked and the sudden widening of her eyes in amazement and fear. The grimness spread across the sharp planes of his face as they shared a look and a short conversation.

“Give over the babe,” Pippin commanded as soon as he and Diamond emerged from the woods upon the pony’s back. They pulled the beast to a stop within the yard of the Smial, facing the assembled North-Tooks with their dirt-smeared countenances and their clothing sweaty and smudged.

Jewel clutched more tightly at Faramir, who had begun to fuss with the pony’s entrance into the yard, and looked to Ganelon for guidance.

“Hand over the babe to his mother, now, lass!” Pippin repeated in a tone that brooked no contradictions, his face stern and his hand opening and then closing again upon Sorrel’s mane as it itched for his sword. “Your brother’s wishes are of no consequence.”

Honeysuckle pushed at Jewel’s shoulders from behind to move her toward Pippin and Diamond. She and Gerin shared a look of confusion before turning their gazes to their son. Honeysuckle dragged up her leg and held it with a hand upon her hip as she looked at Ganelon with fear, chewing upon her lip. Gerin, who had a coil of rope flung over his shoulder, looked, too, to his son with furrowed brow, and a face of consternation.

Ganelon himself had a smile upon his face that was at odds with the scene. “No, Jewel,” he said softly, stepping between her and the pony. “I believe your brother’s wishes are of great consequence indeed.”

“’Tis insignificant!” Pippin sniffed, and pulled at the pony’s mane so it stepped aside, leaving open again the path to Jewel and the babe.

“No!” Ganelon roared, with a shout that produced a shriek from Farry, and a sob from Diamond, while Honeysuckle covered her ears and cringed and Gerin looked bewilderedly on.

Jewel trembled with uncertainty and glanced again back and forth between her brother and her sister. Diamond, sitting before Pippin on the pony, stretched her arms out for the babe.

“No!” Ganelon said in a gleeful, sibilant whisper, approaching so near where Diamond sat upon the pony that Pippin wheeled it about so the animal’s flaring nose confronted Ganelon.

“It is not I who am insignificant,” the young North-Took declaimed. “For I have the future in my hands.” He stepped toward Jewel and the still-sobbing Farry; at the look in Ganelon’s eyes, Jewel patted the back of the babe and stepped away. “The Heir to the Thain of the North-Tooks of Bandobras’s line!” Ganelon crowed. “He shall learn” -- Ganelon turned to again face Pippin upon the pony -- “ what it is to be a proper gentlehobbit, to achieve dignity and expect honor -- the kind that may not come,” he said with a sneer, “from the jest of putting a gardener up for Mayor!”

Pippin’s hands shook, he had clenched them so hard about the pony’s mane. “You,” he seethed through a mouth drawn into a tight line, “you dare to speak to me of honor and use it against Sam?” You who have not even the honor of well-treating your own sister?!” Pippin spat at Ganelon, the drops scattering on the ground before his hairy feet as he jumped back, his face contorted in anger.

“Ganelon!” Gerin cried before he could respond. “What means he by this?”

With an effort, Ganelon schooled his features into merely a scowl and did not reply, but Diamond did.

“Father,” she asked from atop the pony, “What have you found with your rope?”

“Why,” Gerin shifted it down from his shoulder and stared at it as if he had forgotten its presence. “Why, there seem to be at least two pieces, of some length, missing,” he said anxiously. “It worried me a few minutes ago, when we thought it might be needed, for you sounded as if you had got yourself into trouble in the woods.”

“It was not she who got herself into trouble,” Pippin answered sternly, and nodded to Diamond to show her foot, which she stretched out so that all could see the rope about the ankle.

“Wha--? I--?” Gerin gasped helplessly, and Honeysuckle put both her hands to her face as Pippin continued, “’Tis her brother who has set a snare to take my wife form me -- and to harm her as well, if I had not come upon the nest of vipers!”

“Ganelon!” Gerin bellowed, and Honeysuckle sobbed and ducked her head in shame.

“Father!” Ganelon shouted, and tried to placate, though he had gone pale at the mention of the snakes. “I know nothing of such adders! I meant Diamond no harm, only that she should return to her rightful family, so that one day, we all should take our rightful place in the Shire. He and his like” -- Ganelon pointed to Pippin -- “have not the sense even to not be familiar with servants, a lesson this family of gentlehobbits” -- he emphasized the word -- “learned long ago.”

Seething, Ganelon faced his father as he finished, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Honeysuckle gave another sob and covered her face again with her hands, while Gerin’s shoulders slumped and his voice grew weary as he answered, “Oh, Ganelon. You did not understand what you have seen.”

“I know,” Ganelon spat out at Gerin from between clenched teeth, “that I saw you taking easy familiarity with, and embracing, the servant-lass we had then, when I was but a child and my mother lay sick abed! And I have come to know what it means!”

“No,” Gerin said calmly and shook his head, tears streaming from his face as, behind him, Honeysuckle echoed both the action and the word, taking one hand from her face to place it upon his shoulder.

Unheeding, Ganelon continued, “And I have worked since to restore the honor and the dignity that is due this family’s name, rather than have it bestowed upon some fool of a Took! What, as a gentlehobbit,” sneered Ganelon as he looked toward Pippin, “has he that I have not?”

Diamond glanced then at Pippin, struggling mightily for control so that no harm might come to their son, his hands clutched upon a pony’s mane and the dirt and sweat effacing not his noble brow. Indeed, the sunlight glinted upon a drop of sweat at it flashed upon his forehead, and Diamond thought, and said proudly aloud,

“He has the favor of the King.”

Ganelon growled after a moment and ran at the pony, which ducked as Pippin guided it, and Jewel ran to the other side of the beast, trying now to keep the pony between herself and Farry and the advance of Ganelon.

“You’ll have to yield the son your wife has borne,” he shouted with angry fervor at Pippin, and waved a hand contemptuously at Diamond as he dashed at the pony’s heels. “And better that she should sacrifice her head, than that we lose our pride, and live as beggars, with all our rights denied!”

“Enough!” Pippin shouted, and managed finally to draw his sword and, with Diamond’s help, to stop the pony, while they both clung on for balance.

He held the sword before Ganelon, not touching, but close enough so that Ganelon could see the sharpness of the blade. He stood still upon seeing it, staring in disbelief at such a weapon wielded strong and true in a hobbit’s hands, and Pippin’s words which washed over him.

“A beggar, with his rights denied, is’t?” Pippin echoed with cold anger. “Aye, then that’s just what you shall be. You are no kin of me or mine henceforth,” he said as Jewel handed up the babe to Diamond’s waiting arms, the tableau in the yard at last still enough to allow her to do so, “and” -- Pippin looked a quick glance at Gerin, who nodded, then closed his eyes and bowed his head low -- “you are no longer the North-Tooks’ Heir. Be gone, and work for your grub, but know this,” Pippin growled in return to Ganelon’s earlier words, his arm which clutched not his sword tightening about his wife and son. “You’ll never be welcome at the Great Smials, nor shall any hire you where I have friends in the Shire.”

“Nor,” added Gerin in a cold voice, the tears still upon his cheeks, “shall they in the North Farthing.”

“I--” Ganelon squeaked, but Pippin wagged the sword just slightly, and he stepped back, while Gerin and Honeysuckle turned their backs upon him, Gerin’s eyes streaming once more as he choked out “daughter,” upon looking at Diamond. Their backs to Ganelon, Gerin bowed low and Honeysuckle beside him and Jewel next the pony curtsied deep before Diamond, cradling Farry, and Pippin, who pointed the tip of the sword in front of Ganelons’ feet and instructed him with quiet command, “Go. Be you gone now from my sight.”

Ganelon turned tail and fled.

Chapter 24: Syndicate

Pippin sighed, trailing the fingers of one hand upon the wall as he walked slowly along the Smials’ corridor, the other hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

The carriage was put up after their return from a not-so-joyful holiday in the North Farthing, and Diamond was settling Farry in for a feed and a nap in their quarters, and Pippin really ought to check in with his father. Aye: he really ought.

He sighed again as he came to a stop in the corridor near the office of the Thain.

His mother rounded the corner, just then, carrying a covered mug she’d brought from the kitchens.

“Oh, Pippin! You’re home!” she called out to him softly, and Eg then approached to stand on tiptoe and kiss her son on the cheek as he leant down for it.

“Your father’s not there, dear,” she said gently when she was flat on her feet once more. Eg turned the mug in her hands, looking down at it as she continued.

“He’s had a bad spell, I’m afraid,” she said quietly. “Laid him up in bed for the past couple of days. Your sister’s come, and I think that’s a comfort, but he has nae even been well enough to see her yet.”

“Nay!” she called out, and transferred the mug to one hand to stop Pippin by placing the other upon his arm, when he blew out a breath and would have begun moving farther down the corridor. “Let him rest, please, Pippin,” she continued, again in the dulcet tone. “And get you some, too,” she smiled, and moved her hand up to brush against his curls. “You look as if you needed it.”

“Yes, Mama,” Pippin said, and smiled crookedly at her as he watched her walk away.

When Eg had gone, Pippin pushed open the door to his father’s office. Sick for days, she had said. ‘Twas no telling what might be lying in wait that needed tending to.

Pippin groaned inwardly as he saw the pile stacked high upon the desk, and then sighed aloud, and stepped in.

He hadna even noticed, he realized later, when he’d had to light the lamp. ‘Twas voices and footfalls in the corridor, now, which had drawn his attention as the servants changed things about for the night. Pippin stood from the desk, and stretched his arms above his head. He winced, and caught himself with his palms flat against the desktop as his knees threatened to buckle. Pippin blew out the lamp and headed back to his quarters, and to Diamond.

“Hoy, Pip!” came the strained whisper from behind him as Pippin reached the corridor in his own part of the Smials, and headed toward his and Diamond’s door.

He turned, slowly, his shirt-sleeves rolled up and his unbuttoned weskit flaring out a bit with the motion.

The wall sconce lit his sister’s green eyes and sun browned face as she stepped from the shadows. “I dinna -- did not -- dinna know you had come back,” Pervinca began hesitantly, but finished with a sort of defiance, angling her chin just slightly so that her green eyes met her brother’s.

“Aye,” Pippin replied, and used one hand to cover a wide yawn before bringing that hand farther up to run it backward through his curls. “Just today,” he muttered through the remains of the yawn.

“’Twould,” Pervinca seemed suddenly hesitant again, and cast an almost furtive glance down the corridor Pippin had come from and took a step closer before putting a hand upon his arm and whispering to him, low, “’Twould you like to come and have a cup of tea with Nellie and me, Pip?”

“Nay, thank you, Pervinca,” Pippin answered casually from behind the hand that covered another yawn. “’Twill have to be on the morrow, as I’m sure Diamond is waiting on me to turn in for the night.”

“Diamond?” Pervinca echoed in shock.

Pippin, puzzled, was about to answer when the door to his quarters opened behind him and Diamond stood there carrying a sleepy but grumbling Farry.

“See?” she was whispering to the babe. “There’s your Da come home, so we can all get some rest.”

She smiled softly up at Pippin, who grinned back and stepped away from Pervinca to pat baby Farry’s cheek. “I know you’re tired, lad,” Pippin whispered to him with a smile, “so be good for your mama and go to sleep.”

Farry gave a stubborn scowl in return, then stuck his thumb in his mouth, closed his eyes, and determinedly lay his head back against Diamond’s bosom.

The parents shared a look of amusement over his head, and Pippin turned back then to speak to Pervinca, but she had gone, her feet pattering rapidly away down the corridor.

“Who was that?” Diamond asked as the family entered their quarters.

“Oh, ‘twas just my sister,” Pippin answered with another yawn, rolling his shoulders back as he let go the door and let it swing shut behind them.

“Tea with Farry’s auntie will have to wait ‘till the morrow,” he said, and lifted the now dozing child from Diamond’s arms to place him in his cot.


“...and that should be the elevenses menus for the next week, then,” Diamond said conclusively, beginning to gather the cards of receipts from where they lay scattered across the table in front of herself and Second Cook Geranium.

“Aye, Mistress, ‘tis at that,” Gerry responded with her usual smile, but Diamond noticed a slight hesitation in the usually confident hobbitess whose hands remained clutching the quill before her and did not move to help in the gathering.

“What is it, Gerry?” Diamond asked, placing one of her own hands quietly upon Geranium’s. “Is something wrong?”

“’Tis just -- I know you’re likely tired, Mistress, if the little one is aught to go on,” Gerry replied, nodding toward the basket next the table’s leg where Faramir lay, sound asleep, thumb in his mouth and one foot tossed against the basket’s cushioned side.

Diamond’s smile softened further as she, too, looked at the basket, and she nudged her leg against it to gently rock it from side to side before looking up again at Geranium.

“Aye,” she said softly. “But?”

Geranium sighed and braced both her hands against the table, the better to look Diamond square in the face, as she responded in a matter-of-fact tone. “Mistress Eglantine has passed on the request that you take the plannin’ of the rest of the meals for this next week, as well.

“’Tisn’t meet that Mistress Pimpernel should have the task when you’re about and, well, ‘twill give them both a rest,” she concluded.

“Oh,” Diamond responded, and her heart sank as she thought of Pippin’s absenting himself that morn to go toward the offices, and of his hopes to speak to his father the Thain.

“Oh, of course,” Diamond responded, composing her face into neutrality as she began once again to lay the receipt cards out before her.

“Is it very bad, this time?” she asked in a carefully pleasant tone as she brought more cards out of their storage box. Geranium pursed her lips together, set one stack aside, and answered carefully, “I’m sure I wouldn’t be the one to know.”

They began to plan luncheons, and Diamond asked of Gerry, “Will you have enough help for the extra meals?”

Gerry laughed easily and reminded her, “I’m sure ‘tisn’t any extra meals, Mistress. I’ll just be helpin’ First Cook Petunia, as I always do, or she’ll be helpin’ me, and it won’t make much of a difference to us.”

“Oh. Of course,” Diamond said, and smiled at Geranium and covered her distraction by digging once again in the box of receipts.

“And of course I have that Sage lass to help me out,” Gerry chattered happily on. “She’s a fine one, she is. Not too near to comin’ of age even yet, and she’s already told me she looks to be lookin’ to stay on at the Smials.”

“Truly?” Diamond asked, surprised, and Gerry answered cheerfully.

“Oh, aye, Mistress, and like she could be a full Undercook even now, if ‘tweren’t but for her age. Nay, I’ll not be needin’ to worry for quite a while, not like poor Bluebell,” Geranium said with satisfaction.

“’Bluebell’?” Diamond echoed, concerned, her brow furrowing. “Has she reason to be concerned with the maid lasses?”

Geranium sighed and placed her palm flat against the table again. “I suppose ‘tisn’t my place to be telling you, but the poor lass canna get a straight answer from that Trefoil tween. Now, she is close to comin’ of age, that one, but Bluebell canna get her to say yay or nay when she asks if she’d like to stay on. If she’s to find a new tween to train up, it’d be this next comin’ Rethe, already, that she’d need to find one who could start, if the lass was to come from one of the rentin’ farms.”

“Oh,” Diamond said, and pondered, as she held the receipt cards in her hands. “Thank you.”



“Who’s a good lad whilst his mama changes nappies?” Diamond whispered against Farry’s exposed little tummy, earning her a chortle and a wriggle of glee in response as she blew against the belly, then tugged the tiny shirt back down.

Both mother and son continued to smile as she picked him up and turned to face the lass setting the other, freshly laundered, nappies and small shirts away in the drawers of a small bureau, one of the few pieces of furniture yet to reside in the newest room to be opened within Pippin and Diamond’s quarters.

“Thank you, Trefoil,” Diamond said, and the tween smiled and nodded a curtsy as she responded.

“You’re welcome, Mistress Diamond.”

“Trefoil?” Diamond called inquiringly after her as the lass turned to leave, and Trefoil looked back expectantly.

“I was wondering,” Diamond asked as casually as she might, “if you planned to stay on at Great Smials after your birthday in Rethe. I understand Bluebell has not heard.”

“I -- umm,” the smile vanished from Trefoil’s face, which flushed red instead, and she ran her fingers along the rim of the empty wash basket she held clutched to one hip. “I -- I dinna know, Mistress Diamond,” she began to stammer out when a heavy knock came against the door of the quarters.

“A moment, please,” Diamond called toward it and asked, with a concerned frown, “Is there something amiss with your place at the Smials? Or,” she frowned more deeply and clutched Farry tighter, “or at home?”

“I--” Trefoil began again nervously, only to be interrupted once more by the thumping knock.

“I am sorry,” Diamond said, casting the lass a sympathetic glance, and went to open the door upon a smiling hobbitservant Bert, Trefoil trailing at her heels.

The reason for the thumping knocks was clear when she beheld the trunk Bert carried within both hands, having evidently knocked with his knee.

“I’m sorry to be a bother ‘n all, Mistress Diamond,” he said, “but Mr. Pippin said, after you’d left this in the carriage yest’day when you got back, as this was the best time to bring it by, seein’ as how the babe would like to be finished with his nap ‘n all,” he added, grinning at Farry, still happily swinging his legs in Diamond’s arms, and sweeping his grin across the room to encompass Trefoil as well.

That lass colored further, her blush spreading to the edges of her face and to her ears, and she stammered out as soon as she saw a wire depressed upon the apparatus of servants’ bells, “I -- I’m wanted elsewhere.

“Excuse me, Mistress Diamond,” Trefoil said and ducked her head in another curtsy, clutching the empty wash basket tight against her as she squeezed past Bert in the doorway, her eyes averted from the still smiling hobbit.



“Hoy,” Pippin said that evening as he pulled a nightshirt over his head while Diamond wound a cord upon the end of her long braid of dark curls, loosed from its updo to lie along the back of her nightdress. “I had forgotten we were to take tea with my sister today.”

“Oh?” Diamond asked, surprised and confused, and looked toward him through the lamplight. “I have not seen Nellie,” she said. “I had supposed her busy all day with Mistress Eglantine.”

“Aye,” Pippin said wearily, his shoulders slumped as he bent to retrieve the trousers he’d just shucked upon the floor, and the shirt he’d haphazardly discarded there a few moments before. “Suppose they both were, then.”

“Both?” Diamond asked with trepidation as Pippin approached the corner of the bedchamber which held both the basket for the soiled clothing and the one which had been sent up, late in the evening so they had not wanted the bother of servants putting it away after Pippin at last had returned from his father’s office, with their own newly washed clothes.

“Aye,” he answered, wadding his shirt and trousers into a crumpled mess as he threw them within the basket. “Dinna you hear that Pervinca is here for a visit?”

“No,” Diamond breathed out in a low sigh, and chewed her lip as her back stiffened against the bedpillows where she sat.

She caught sight, nearly at the same time Pippin did, of the neatly folded parchment lying atop the new-washed clothes. The hobbitesses who did the launderings at the Great Smials had learned to search pockets for any treasures the owners might want to keep, and Pervinca’s note now lay atop the frock Diamond had worn into the wood.

“No,” she said again in a strangled voice, and her heart clutched as Pippin reached for the parchment.

“Diamond?” he asked with concern, the green of his eyes catching in the lamplight as he looked toward her on the bed, the note hanging carelessly from the fingertips of one hand. “What ‘tis it?”

She thought, for a fleeting moment, as she unfolded her legs from the bed and walked to his side, of taking the note from him, tearing it into bits or -- or somehow keeping him from knowing.

She knew, herself, however, almost immediately after this thought had crossed her mind, that she could not keep such knowledge from him. That she was his wife, and that it would not be right.

She curled the fingers of one of her hands about his as she reached him and, looking down toward the floor, Diamond nodded toward the note.

“Diamond?” Pippin asked with a deceptively simple question in his voice, and then he turned from looking at her to shake the note open within his other hand and slow, carefully, read its words and grasp their meaning.

“Diamond,” he said in a choked voice when he had finished reading, his eyes still turned toward the parchment, “why did you go into the wood in the North Farthing that day?”

“I--” Diamond gasped softly at the fierce grip to which Pippin’s fingers on her hand had increased and thought, briefly, of the wonder it was that the wavering parchment he held could withstand such force. She raised her widened and sad grey eyes to meet his and she said, “It was because of Pervinca’s note.”

“Aah!” Pippin cried out inarticulately, and his knees buckled, and Diamond was hard-pressed to half drag him to sit upon the nearest end of the bed.

“Husb-- I -- I am sure she meant me no harm,” Diamond babbled as Pippin clung to her. “Even Ganelon,” she quailed and trembled as Pippin growled, from where his face was buried in her neck, at the mere mention of the name, “e--even he,” Diamond stuttered on, “meant me no harm, for he had left a basket of food, and he could not have know that the s--snakes should be there,” she said, and she sobbed, and she trailed off, holding only to Pippin, who gripped her so, so tightly that he lifted her a tiny bit off the bed as he pulled back his face to look into hers.

“Dinna want to harm you?” he asked harshly, then repeated, louder, so that Diamond felt she might cower, hearing that tone directed at her, “Dinna want to harm you?”

“Nay. Nay,” Pippin answered his own question with bitter vehemence. “They wanted only to take you from me, and you canna deny e’en my own sister would ha’e known ‘twould come to that, this plan to tie you away. ‘Twould -- ‘twould mayhap ha’e meant no harm to you, Diamond,” he said, the first shock and anger beginning to dissolve into sobs as his head slowly lowered again onto her shoulder. “’Twas meant as harm for me!”

“Darling!” Diamond cried out, clutching her fingers within the curls on the back of his head to press him tight against her, “it would do me grievous harm to lose you,” she sobbed in counterpoint to his repeated desperate cries of her name.

“I love you, Peregrin, Pippin, Took,” she stated deliberately into his ear, “and you shall not come to such harm, nor to any other, whilst I can have a say in it.”

Pippin lifted his eyes to look at her, and the lamplight flickered as he pulled his wife with him across and over the bed to blow it out, whispering all the while his litany of, “Diamond. Diamond. Diamond.”


“At Pippin’s latest toss and turn upon his side of the bed that night, Diamond pulled herself up and was about to ask if she should set up the draughts when he spoke and forestalled her.

“Nay, dinna get up,” he said. “’Tis nae a nightmare -- I just canna sleep.

“’Tis all right,” he added with the brush of a soft kiss against her lips as he rose from the bed.

Fetching Farry from the adjoining room, Pippin placed the child in the bed with his mother, then pulled a pair of trousers and braces over his nightshirt, casting a doleful glance at the as yet untouched clean clothes as he did so.

He pulled the door to his quarters carefully and quietly shut behind him, then waited, fidgeting, in the corridor until there approached one of the very few servants who worked the night instead of the day through, completing tasks that were easier when no hobbits were about.

“Sir?” startled this hobbit, drawing closer. “Is aught amiss?”

“N--nay, Tiffy,” Pippin responded with a close facsimile of his usual grin. “I just canna sleep and dinna want to disturb Diamond and Farry.

“But would you mind,” he added as Tiffy began to turn away, “would you mind, just keeping a watch before the Mistress’s door?” Pippin asked, steering the hobbit into position in front of it with a hand upon his shoulder. “I daresay the floors’ll look after themselves well enough for one night.”

“Aye, sir,” Tiffy responded, his hand twitching at his side as if he felt for the quiver which had been at his belt in the time of the Troubles. “’Tis there aught I should be watching for, then?” he asked seriously.

Pippin hesitated as he looked quickly down the corridor, then turned back to answer with a sad smile. “Nay. ‘Tis likely only a bit of foolishness, but it shall make me feel better just the same.”

He kept the strained smile upon his face as he moved through the corridors, and out one of the Smials’ doors into the yards. It faded, though, as he stepped around the apple presses set up, and the short beginnings of the year’s leaf piles to be raked later into mulch, and sat himself eventually upon a small rise beneath a still fully green-leafed tree.

The bright stars, pinpricks of diamonds, winked through the sky’s vast blackness which spread above his head. Pippin drew from his pocket a pipe, and lit it so that, for a moment, the red glow added its homely touch to the celestial lights.

Pippin stared about him as he smoked, his cheeks becoming drawn and hollow with each breath he drew, his back braced against the tree trunk and his knees drawn up before him so he could lightly rest his unused hand.

He stared, at the Great Smials with its warrens of rooms holding multitudes of hobbits. At the doors leading to the kitchens where he had nicked, or begged, or been given, food as a lad. At the shadowed lumps in the gardens, vegetables which were not yet quite ripe enough to be harvested and canned for the coming winter to help feed all of those hobbits. At the plot which was Diamond’s small garden, where she grew the valerian -- he shuddered -- the arnica, the roses whose hips she collected to tend to him and to Farry in their minor illnesses.

He stared at the bench, its stone illuminated in the starlight, where his mother had held him within her lap as a lad, cradling and comforting him in his illnesses in much the same way he had seen her hold his father’s head earlier in the day. “Pip,” Paladin had groaned out through a contorted grin on Pippin’s brief visit to his quarters. A grimace of pain took the smile, and the words, away from the Thain for a few moments before he was able to add, “I shallna -- worry o’er things,” he concluded with a gasp, and bent over his middle once more.

Pippin stared, in the night, at the stables which housed an occasionally whickering pony among all those held ready for the vast number of hobbits, and the scythes, used to cut the fields he must oversee, and the nails, used to keep the ponies shod that they might trot along roads like that to Tuckborough which shimmered in the starlight.

Pippin stared, too, past the apple presses where he might have a hand in pressing this year’s cider, toward the Tuckburough road, its coating of gravel worn down and scattered once again since spring, when more should have to be ordered from the quarries and spread upon it. When Pippin, or his Da, should have to travel once again to Tuckborough, and beyond, to take stock of how the hobbits, and their stores, had fared through the winter, and to meet the merchants at markets throughout the Shire, and and to examine their wares and collect any taxes due. ‘Twas the road where, from farther still, might come a summons to him as a messenger of the King.

Pippin stared, then, quite close by to where he sat, at a copse of trees where his sister Pervinca had accidentally pelted him with a stone when he was a child, where he had run beneath the branches during a footrace when she had given no quarter for his younger age and shorter legs, where his Da had once lifted Pippin upon his tall, strong shoulders and given the sagest advice upon bird’s-nesting that he could.

Pippin kept a relaxed grip upon the pipe with one hand, and rested the other elbow upon his upturned knees. He slowly, slowly lowered his head so that his face was held within that palm, the fingers spread so that between them he continued to stare, to stare unsleeping until the night turned ‘round to fall deeper upon the islands far to the west and, in the Shire, the dawn’s streaks joined the fading starlight in the sky.



“Mistress Pervinca Took Proudfoot,” Bert said carefully upon the opening of Pimpernel’s door, where the hobbitesses behind it had expected to find a kitchen lass come to take the first breakfast dishes they had just cleared away. “Captain Peregrin Took summons you to his office.”

The hobbitservant kept his hands clasped behind his back, where he could nervously twist them together, and a schooled expression upon his face as he walked through the Smials at the side of Pervinca, who had lifted her chin defiantly at his announcement, ignoring Nellie’s stunned face turned toward her at the official order so given.

Pervinca’s step did falter a bit as she crossed the threshold to the office where Pippin stood, his back to her, seemingly studying the contents of a frame upon the wall, and Diamond sat, her hands folded neatly in her lap, in a chair to the side of the desk. Bert pulled the door firmly shut behind her, and she heard his footsteps shuffle a bit on the other side of it, but they did not recede.

“Aye,” Pervinca said, chin still lifted, after long moments of tense silence. “What ‘tis it, Pip?”

“Pervinca Took Proudfoot!” Pippin said, whirling about and rounding the desk as he addressed her once again with the full formality of her name. Pervinca saw, as he did so, that her brother had strapped on the sword he’d acquired in the Outlands and that he wore this and the black tunic which served as the underpinnings to his Gondorian getup incongruously above a russet pair of hobbit style breeches.

“You have nae been given leave to speak!” Pippin said, slicing a hand through the air in front of him and snapping the fingers closed together in mimicry of a mouth.

Pervinca’s green eyes flashed and her tongue was upon her teeth to respond as Pippin continued, drawing his sword without pause and spearing, before Pervinca could blink, a parchment which lay upon his desk.

The sudden clink and scrape of metal against wood was still ringing its reverberations through her ears as Pippin held steadily before her, upon the tip of his sword, the note she had written, weeks earlier, to Diamond.

“Now,” he said, and his voice, too, was steel and steady as his own green eyes looked down a scant few inches to meet his sister’s, “you may explain why you should conspire to cause harm to fall upon another hobbit.”

Pervinca’s heart skipped a moment at her brother’s sword holding her words before her face, and then she laughed easily and batted a hand toward it as she stepped aside. “’Cause harm’? ‘Tis obviously a mistake. ‘Tis nae a harm to talk of flowers, ‘tis it, with my brother’s wife?”

Diamond, to whom Pervinca had stepped closer in her motions, said softly toward her hands, “I had thought it kind, to offer such a suggestion.”

“Truly,” Pippin said, and wearily pinched the bridge of his nose near the circles which shadowed his eyes. “I suppose ‘twas nae difficult to remember my favorite wildflower from when I was lad?” he asked toward the lasses.

“Oh, aye,” Pervinca said easily, “you were always on about the marsh marigolds in Buckland.”

A silence, then, of a beat, before Pippin answered firmly, “Aye.”

Pervinca quailed, slightly, her written lie exposed, and Diamond’s small, disappointed, “Oh!” coming after it. She rallied quickly, though, and her skirts swished as she turned back to Pippin, her hands upon her hips.

“Wha-- hoy-- hey--,” she blustered, and her eyes flashed. “So what of it? ‘Tis nae a reason for this” -- she waved a hand to encompass the room. “’Tis nae a reason when a hobbit lad” -- she stepped closer, then, to Pippin, and he easily moved the sword aside, her eyes shining with memory and accusation -- “causes a prank to fall.”

Pippin blinked, slowly, closing his eyes a moment to recall days when Pervinca’s ribbons had mysteriously wound themselves into a knotted mess of a ball, or Pimpernel’s lighter colored braids had shown, upon their ends, the telltale marks of a dip in an inkwell. He wavered, a moment, tiredly on his feet as he opened the eyes again and said, “’Tis nae a prank of the harmless kind of which you’ve been accused.”

“Diamond,” he continued before Pervinca could speak, and sheathed his sword as he walked toward his wife to place a hand upon her shoulder. “Diamond was near killed.”

The enormity of that statement filled the room a moment. Its magnitude, though, was sheer incomprehensibility to Pervinca, for no hobbit had ever killed another a-purpose, save mayhap for during the Troubles, in living memory of their long lines.

“Hoy. Piglet,” she snorted finally, uncertainly. “What’re you on about?”

“Your words,” Pippin said, holding Diamond’s warm shoulder beneath his hand as he looked down at her face and the dark curls which framed it, “led Diamond to the wood where her brother would ha’e kept her, and where the adders would ha’e struck.”

Pervinca paled, and gasped, and stepped backward, catching and supporting herself with a hand behind her upon the wall. “I -- I dinna know, Diamond,” she breathed. “For that, I apologize.”

“Aye,” Diamond spoke softly in acknowledgment, still facing the hands folded in her lap. “You did not know.”

“’Tis nae all you must apologize for,” Pippin snarled suddenly, whirling from his wife to face his sister once more. His hands, in loose fists, hung at his sides as he stepped before Pervinca and spat, “You tried to take my wife from my side!”

Pervinca’s jaw tightened, and she turned her attention easily from Diamond to respond defiantly. “Aye. And what if I did?”

“’Tis also an offense,” Pippin said, making an effort to control his anger.

“It canna be,” Pervinca laughed humorlessly, stepping closer to her brother, her face inches from his, “to take from you a wife you dinna want and canna love.”

Pippin’s hand flexed, and his stayed himself from slapping a lass as he answered, in tones cold and strong, to Pervinca’s face. “I love her now.”

Pervinca had thought herself stunned before, but now her brother’s announcement swept through her a cascade of hope, swiftly doused with the cold, hard stone of what she knew to be truth.

“Tha’--” she laughed, strangled, as she struggled against the tears which had come unbidden to her eyes, “tha’ canna be.”

“Aye,” Pippin said, his voice softening again as he looked to Diamond, and his feet followed his gaze so that he held his wife’s face for a moment, tenderly in a caress. “Aye.”

“Hoy!” Pervinca made a choked noise in her throat, and shifted her feet and looked desperately about the room, including toward the door, firmly shut and, she recalled, with a hobbit on guard outside it.

“And even,” Pippin shuddered as his foot caught wearily as he turned from Diamond once more, his voice filled with aching, “even ‘twere it not the case, you havena the right to go against the wishes of the Thain.”

“I--” Pervinca’s fierceness snapped back into full fervor, and she stepped into the center of the room to declaim, her finger pointed, stabbing, at Pippin’s chest, “I am the daughter of the Thain!”

“Aye!” Pippin snapped back, and his voice calmed but held its conviction as he answered, “and I am the son.”

“Hoy, Piglet!” Pervinca sneered as she shouted. “You know no more of duty than do I!”

“Aye!” Pippin barked back, the tips of his fingers fluttering above the hilt of his sword, his own stubborn face close to hers. “That I do!”

“’Tis duty,” he continued, turning suddenly to rest his hands upon the desk, tension in the back he turned to his sister as his eyes fell once more upon the seed portrait framed on the wall, “duty that has brought me here today, that has had me summon you. Duty that ‘twould have me judge.”

“Piglet--” Pervinca began in a tense tone, with no contrition in it, “’tis nae my duty to listen to aught from you.”

“Aye, but ‘tis!” Pippin slammed his hand down upon the desk, and pushed away from it to turn and her face her once again, small tears beginning to glisten at the edges of his eyes. “Dinna you see?” he cried out, one hand waving expansively out in a gesture that marked the room, and the wall of which his father’s office occupied the other side, before he let it fall limply again to his side.

Pervinca, too, glanced toward Thain Paladin’s office, unoccupied at the moment, and swallowed her throat against the pricks of tears she would deny. “’Tis nae you who are Thain, Pip,” she said with contempt, and stepped close to spit toward him with low contempt. “’Tis one too proud, will recklessly advise. Let’s heed no fools” -- she hardened her voice still further upon the word -- “and keep to what is wise.”

Diamond, nearly forgotten in her chair, made to rise and comfort her husband at the word which she knew still stung, but he, wavering only slightly, had already composed himself well enough to answer his sister, his words and his voice turning her accusation back against her.

“I hear your foolishness and pride.

“Pinabel,” he said wearily, and sighed, eyes closed as he pinched his nose and remembered the nickname Nellie’d created for Pervinca in childhood, “you are brave. You’re tall and strong; your” -- he blushed a slight pink tinge -- “body is well-built. that you are valiant is known to all your peers.

“But ‘tis they who havena helped you all these years.”

“Wha-- what?” Pervinca’s at first accusing, stubborn tone turned to confusion. “What does that mean?”

“The meaning ‘tis,” said Pippin, leaning back now so he sat haunches propped against his desk, and his hands supporting his weight to either side, “that I shall have to send you from the Shire.”

“Wha-- what?” Pervinca cried out again, outraged. “You canna do such--”

Pippin talked over her protests, informing her with forced calm, “You canna seem, else, to learn respect, and I have had request from a friend who wishes help--”

“How is’t,” Pervinca interrupted disdainfully, “that you may defy the wishes of the Thain? Or is’t that the husband for whom I have been set aside,” she asked bitterly, “is to accompany me?”

“Nay,” Pippin sighed tiredly. “Nay, he is not. But mayhap,” he added with exhaustion in his voice which masked any hope, “you shall find in this a chance to be happy, as you have nae seemed for years.”

Pervinca, choked, did not respond, as Pippin answered, as well, her other question,

“And aye,” he said with more weariness, his lashes fluttering as his eyes drooped closed, “’tis I who has the duty, and the burden, to put asunder such things for the nonce.”

“But nae for yourself?” Pervinca asked bitterly.

“Nay,” Pippin answered wearily, his chin nodding toward his chest, “nay; I canna do so, e’en should I wish it, for myself.”

“What,” Pervinca swallowed, “what about my children?”

Pippin, with an effort, raised his head to look toward Pervinca as he answered, “they will spend a time with Nellie and with Pearl.”

“And -- and how long is this to be, shall you say?” Pervinca cried out stubbornly.

Pippin did not answer in kind, but only looked calmly at her as he said, heavily, “I dinna yet know.”

“Wha-- what if,” she looked hesitantly at the office wall, and hesitation and fear were in her eyes and in her voice as she whispered, “what if Da--”

“He willna!” Pippin answered with the equivalent of his sister’s fierceness.

“What ‘tis it you think you shall send me to, then?” Pervinca shouted with annoyance, arms crossed upon her chest.

The edges of his lips quirked up but the sadness and weariness remained on his face as he answered, “You shall be Bree’s newest barmaid at The Prancing Pony.”

A -- a barmaid. Pervinca’s mouth gaped in shock at this affront to her dignity. “Hoy,” she said, two red spots burning bright upon her cheeks as she protested.

“Wretched, abandoned, what is my destiny?” she asked bitterly. “If you were kind, you’d make an end to me!”

“Dinna say such!” Pippin shouted, leaping from the desk to stand once more. “Have you nae learned what it means to wish a hobbit harm?”

“Piglet--” Pervinca began with a whine, and a plead, and an annoyance.

“Stop!” Pippin shouted, standing straighter, tall and proud. “You canna call me such,” he informed her with cold reserve, and then he turned his back and rang the bell upon his desk. “You must go.”

The door opened and, when Bert had left with his sister, Pippin let his teary eyes look again upon the Yule gift, framed long ago by a sister who had recreated, as much as her memory could provide in the months of his absence, her brother’s face the stagnant seeds of the Shire’s earth. Small things, like the shape of one ear, were amiss, as the memory could not perfectly recall them, but the corner of the frame held, still, the confident dedication, “to Pippin, from Pervinca.”

Pippin’s knees buckled, slightly, as he felt his wife’s arms come around him from behind, and he used even more the support of the desk against his weight, his eyes seeing first the picture and then the quick-slapping hands of a much younger Pervinca as she had flipped wooden wafers with him in a game they’d played as children.

‘Twas now, as a grown hobbit, that he’d had to send that sister from his sight, and ‘twas his wife who held him as he wept.


“Hoy, then, Bert,” Everard said cheerily, if with a bit of awe as he clambered upon one of the Little People’s stools at the bar of The Prancing Pony. “I never thought I would leave the Shire, or have a pint o’ this stuff” -- he grinned guilelessly at the scowling serving maid who brought him an ale. “I shall be glad to get home to Nellie, even though Pip says it’s safe out here.”

“Aye, sir, Mr. Everard,” Bert muttered nervously into his own mug, carefully averting his eyes from the somehow disgraced Mistress Pervinca -- er, Pervinca, he was to call her, now, although he’d avoid it as much as he might, ‘specially now that Mr. Pippin’s errand was done.

“How ‘bout you, then?” Everard asked, kicking his feet as he sloshed the mug to his lips so that he swayed dangerously on what, to Bert, seemed an uncommonly -- no call for it to be that high off the ground -- high stool. “When’ll you be marryin’ a lass, Bert?” Everard asked, the foam coating his upper lip.

“Er -- well -- I dinna know ‘bout that, Mr. Everard,” Bert said, creasing his thumb along the rim of his own mug and casting a wary eye out for the presence of Mistress Pervinca, the best to avoid her glare. “The one I’ve got -- well, I jist canna tell if she’s keen on the idee,” he said, and then stared deep into his mug for a moment, and then took from it a long draught.

Everard laughed, kicking his feet again happily. “You should ask Pip for advice.”

Chapter 25: Carbon

“Aye?” Pippin looked up from the desk in his office at the knock on his door, which opened to display Bert. Huffing sightly, the hobbitservant puffed out, “Sir!” to Pippin’s quizzical look, droplets of water plinking softly to the floor as the dusting of snow melted from Bert’s coat.

“What ‘tis--” Pippin began, half-rising from his chair just as another hobbit’s hand grabbed Bert’s shoulder from behind and pushed him carelessly aside.

“Thank you for the service,” the hobbit said as he strode forward into the office, the hood from his cloak flung back as he drew off one glove. “You may go now.”

Bert looked to Pippin for direction. Now standing, Pippin nodded once at him. Bert flashed him a quick grin before withdrawing, pulling the door shut behind him with a whistle.

“Now then, Duro,” Pippin said as he walked to the front of his desk and hitched himself up to to sit perched upon it, “this seems a hasty visit.”

“Hastier than I’d planned, I’ll warrant,” Duro said, slapping both of his now-removed gloves into hand to produce a smacking sound. “I had thought to see the Thain,” he announced confidently and then made just the slightest hesitation before striding across the room to seat himself in a chair facing Pippin’s desk, his well-muscled legs with the sable foot-fur spread out, ankles crossed, before him.

“He doesna wish to be bothered for routine matters,” Pippin said easily, reaching behind himself on the desk to pick up a cooling mug of tea.

“Aye, but surely on a family matter--” Duro answered just as easily, but left the rest of his sentence hang midair, dangling like the gloves now loosely clasped in his fingers.

“A family matter?” Pippin echoed. He took a swallow of the cold tea and schooled his face against the natural grimace at the taste.

“Aye,” Duro answered and leaned forward, hands resting on his knees, to give Pippin a cool stare. “I had wanted to question his decision in the matter of my wife.”

Pippin took another sip of the cold tea and licked the drops from his upper lip. Inside, he wasna still a’tall, but could feel his heart tripping a faster pitter-pat. Aloud, he asked with calm, “And what decision ‘twould that be?”

“The decision to send her to Bree or some-such!” Duro exploded, rapping the gloves sharply against his knees immediately before he burst from the chair to pace about the room.

“I do not know what reason the Thain could have had for it, although of course I’m sure there was one,” he nodded slightly to Pippin as he spoke during the rapid pacing. “But surely he cannot have meant for her to be gone this long. Why, it is nearly Yule!”

Pippin stilled his foot from fidgeting and looked into the china teacup as he responded to Duro’s ravings. “Aye. ‘Tis nearly Yule.”

“And I do not know why a hobbit should be expected to spend Yule without his wife and children,” Duro continued, gaining speed in both his words and and his pacing as he spoke, slapping the gloves absently against his thighs. “Why, my sisters do not know how they shall ever manage, without Pervinca there to see to their youngsters and Viola’s grandchildren whilst they finish the baking and to assist in hanging the greenery -- she’s quite tall, you know, for a lass,” Duro threw in as a careless aside during his pacing, unnoticing of Pippin’s slight frown beginning above his teacup, nor the slight stiffness of the Took’s shoulders.

“Really,” Duro went on heedlessly, “I’ve heard quite a bit from my sisters about how busy they are, as I’ve been staying with them these past few months, of course. Why, from first breakfast until I come home for a pipe at night, it seems it’s all they can speak of, and I’ve never heard Pervinca complain.”

Back turned in his pacings, Duro missed again Pippin’s raised eyebrows and his deliberate setting down of the teacup upon the desk as a prelude to crossing his arms in front of him.

“So, really, oughtn’t she be around to help at Yule?” Duro asked and plowed ahead without waiting for an answer. “And as for the children, well, of course it is fine and proper that they should have visits with their Tookish relations” -- he nodded briefly in Pippin’s direction again -- “but, after all, they are Proudfeet, of course, and they should be with the Proudfeet for Yule,” he said confidently and stopped at last to face Pippin as he concluded. “I am certain the Thain must realize all this, so I should like to speak to him about his decision to send my wife away and when she might be fetched back,” Duro said in a very reasonable tone, the gloves once more hanging limply from one hand.

“’Twas nae his decision,” Pippin said abruptly, his jaw hardened and his green eyes glinting above his crossed arms.

“Pardon?” asked Duro politely.

“’Twas mine,” Pippin said and hopped down from the desk to stand with his eyes mere inches away from Duro’s brow.

Duro laughed and gave a playful shove to his shoulder. “Oh, come now, Pippin,” he said. “I did once overhear Pervinca telling young Bram that some jest was like his uncle’s as a lad. I see that she spoke true,” he laughed.

“I am not jesting,” Pippin said, speaking each word deliberately and moving neither his body nor his eyes, which continued to bore into Duro.

Duro took a step back and laughed nervously, crumpling the gloves within his hand. “Oh, come now, Pippin,” he chided again. “You are naught but Pervinca’s little brother. Why, you can have hardly come of age, to hear her tales!

“And, Pippin,” Duro continued, stepping forward again and putting a hand upon Pippin’s shoulder, ignoring the glare that greeted him, “I should doubt that the Thain would let you make such decisions on your own, after -- after - well, it wasn’t very responsible to run away during the Troubles, now, was it?”

He held up a hand as if to forestall questions from Pippin who, in fact, had not said anything but merely stiffened further.

“Tut, tut!” Duro continued. “Now, I know you did quite well for yourself when you came back, as your cousin helped you at Bywater and all that, but really, my lad, I should think it’s time to tame that bit of flightiness that we see the same in Pearl, hmm?”

Duro’s voice dripped with amused condescension as he ended with his hand still upon Pippin’s shoulder, and Pippin took a deep breath before reaching up to cover it with his own, and plucking it off as if it were an insect.

“Duro Proudfoot,” Pippin said, and began walking back toward his seat behind the desk. “I may be Pervinca’s younger brother. But I am also the son and Heir to the Thain.” He took a deep breath as he rounded the corner of the desk, and thoughts skittered through his brain about flightiness, and hastiness, and Knights of Gondor, and Kings, but he decided not to travel that route just now.

“I am 41 years old. Thain Paladin has complete confidence in me, and in my decisions.” Pippin closed his eyes as he sat, feeling both sick with sadness and an odd sort of pride as his father’s gaunt face with the ever-present grin for him swam behind his eyelids. “And we are nae here to discuss me,” Pippin said as he sat, opening his eyes as his bottom touched the chair and folding his fingers before him on the desk as he had seen King Elessar do. “We are here to discuss you.”

“I?” Duro echoed in surprise.

Pippin nodded at him, and then nodded again, toward the chair where his brother-in-law had sat earlier.

Duro hesitated a moment and then, as Pippin moved one hand slightly toward the bells upon his desk, Duro hastily pulled back the chair and sat again.

Pippin refolded his fingers and asked, as his thumb hidden within his folded hands surreptitiously pulled at a loose thread upon the end of his cuff, “Why did you marry my sister?”

“Beg pardon?” Duro asked, confused.

“I said,” repeated Pippin, drawing the thread out and wrapping it round both thumbs, “why did you marry my sister?”

“Well -- well, of course, the Proudfeet offered to help defend the borders of Tookland during the Troubles,” Duro began.

“Seems as if that could ha’e been done without weddin’ Pervinca,” Pippin answered, lacing the thread now in x’s across his middle fingers.

“Well...aye,” Duro faltered at first, but then spoke truer. “But you were not here, so you cannot know what it was like. Who knew if the Shire should ever be the same again? With those Ruffians turning out gaffers and gammers, and ‘gathering’ and ‘sharing’ the crops, who was to say that the market for hobbit lasses wasn’t to get any tighter than it already was, what with travel being nigh onto impossible!”

“So -- you saw my sister as a bargain, then?” Pippin asked quietly, one finger picking monotonously at the string within his hands.

“Well, of course, under the circumstances!” Duro responded indignantly. “My brother was already wed, and he was set to inherit most of the lad around the family smial -- if it should be worth aught by the time the Ruffians got done with things!” he said contemptuously. “And here I was, not wet yet at 43 - I had thought I’d have time, you know -- and still, then, an assistant to the leatherworker, but I had the Proudfoot name behind me, and if; well, to speak bluntly, my da and I both knew that if should find the right dam, I could be a fine sire, and what could be finer than the daughter of the Thain?”

Pippin’s fingers tightened within their folds, snapping and breaking off the thread, as bile rose within his throat. “So you bought my sister as breeding stock?” he asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

“No!” Duro responded vehemently, then squirmed. “Well, in a way -- you see, it’s all more complicated than that!” he chattered. “I had seen her before, you know. I knew she was a handsome lass, and I believe she thought the same of me as well. After all,” he said pointedly to Pippin, “I do not believe the Proudfeets were the only family to make such an offer. It was not so easy, then, for a lass to think of finding a lad, either.”

“Is that what you would have wished for your sisters?” Pippin asked, eyes flashing as he began to pull at another thread with his thumbs. “Ha’e you ever asked Pervinca if she weary, or if she needs help? Ha’e you ever asked how your sisters treat her, or if she has aught she should like to do?” Pippin asked, his fingers working furiously with the string now as he thought of Duro’s earlier words, and of the seed portrait on the wall behind him, and of the other image he’d seen at the Fair in Michel Delving, a full two years after he’d known Pervinca to be nearly finished with it.

“Ha’e you taken time to speak with her, and ask if she has aught to complain of, for I assure you,” Pippin said with a quick, grim smile, “’tis like that she does. Is any o’ that what you had thought on when your own sisters were wed?”

“I--” Duro hesitated, flustered. “I was barely a tween when my last sister wed.”

“All right, then,” Pippin said, perfectly willing to suddenly shift tacks. “’Tis the kind of bein’ wed that you found what you should with for your daughters?”

“Bu -- Clover is but eleven!” Duro protested. “It is not something I should have to think of for a while.”

“Aye, but time travels fast as the years wear on,’ Pippin counseled. “Why, seems that young Pippin Took is all grown up now, for one,” he said with a smirk at the edges of his eyes.

“I -- all right,” Duro said, and drew himself to sit with dignity, one hand resting the leather gloves lightly upon his knee. “Yes, of course I should like my daughters to make an advantageous match. Clover might be a bit old, but Ivy would only be three years older than her cousin Faramir.”

Pippin stood stiffly and abruptly, the new thread breaking and falling unnoticed to his desktop. His face boiled, bright spots of red burning upon his cheeks. The venom in his voice had Duro quaking, even as it contrasted with the words he spoke: “I love my son. He shall never be to buy -- or to sell.”

Pippin bent abruptly and rummaged in a desk drawer, rummaging through it before throwing a scroll upon the desk in front of Duro. As it rolled, the scroll partially unfurled, revealing lines that designated a map.

“I have a proposition for you, as you seem a hobbit who knows a bargain,” Pippin said in a voice as steely as his sword. “You may spend Yule with your children, as a guest of the Tooks,” he added, forestalling Duro’s comment. “In Buckland. Which is near to Bree. And you may decide what it means for the Proudfeets to be part of the family of the Thain, where there shall be nae more marketing of hobbits and their happiness.

“Or,” Pippin said, nodding toward the map, “should you return to spend this Yule -- and the next, and the one after -- with the Proudfeet, you may tell them you are the sort of hobbit who was willing to make a trade of his family -- for fiefdoms and land, as much as you desire,” Pippin concluded, pitching his voice into a whisper of temptation.

Duro looked at the map, one hand reaching out hesitantly before he snatched it back, a stricken look crossed his face and he covered his now-red cheeks, the leather gloves delivering a smack. Shamefacedly, he said, “That’s more than I require.”


“Truly, Mistress Birdsong, there is no need--” Diamond trailed off and caught her hand in the waist of Farry’s trousers again to give him a little shove in the direction away from the old hobbitess’s fringed blanket which covered the legs stretched in front of her upon a cushioned footstool while the fire crackled behind the back of her comfortably stuffed chair.

“Oh, ‘tisn’t any trouble, of course,” Mistress Birdsong answered brightly and rapped a rather long walking stick against the window a few feet from her chair. “Whit!” she hollered after a moment.

Diamond jumped just slightly as the window was pulled up from the outside, rather than in, and she dove a bit awkwardly for Farry’s trousers again as he began eagerly toddling toward the hobbit who stuck a curly head inside. “What do you be needin’?” he asked the old hobbitess without preamble, then started and hastily scrabbled at the snowflakes in his hair as he caught sight of Diamond.

“How-do, Mistress,” he said, one end of the knitted muffler wrapped about his neck swinging into the room as he bowed. “Whit Cooper at your service.”

“And your family’s,” Diamond replied pleasantly, and then lost her well-modulated tone to scold “Faramir!” as he broke free from her grip and made an incredibly quick dash across the room to grab at Whit’s scarf.

“Hoy, ‘tis all right!” laughed Whit, leaning into the smial to pick up the toddler and ease the weight about his neck caused by Farry’s letting himself dangle from the ends of the muffler.

Diamond smiled gratefully at him as she made her way across the smial to fetch back her son. She had just opened her mouth to make her own introduction when Mistress Birdsong spoke.

“Of course ‘tis all right,” she said eagerly, “now hand that lad back to Mistress Diamond and go on and get us a bit of your mum’s spiced cake to share ‘round.” She gave a seated curtsy to Diamond, the white curls upon her head bobbing, as she added, “now I know ‘tisn’t like near so grand as you’re like to have at the Great Smials, but I know for certain-sure,” she emphasized this with a thump of the walking stick upon the floor, although her legs remained stretched upon the cushion, “that Mistress Cooper’s spiced cake is the best as we have in Tooksank, and she had offered me some when she was round yest’day, and ‘twould be a shame, ‘twouldn’t it, for Mistress Diamond to go back to the Great Smials, where my granddaughter’s workin’ out, you know, without havin’ had a chance to et some of’t. So you go on and ask your mum to send some for Mistress Diamond Took whilst she’s at my place, afore she goes on back to the Great Smials,” Mistress Birdsong cheerily instructed her neighbor.

“Er,” Whit responded eloquently, having frozen at the very first mention of “Mistress Diamond” and “Great Smials,” his eyes now traveling in a sort of stunned helplessness toward the babe sitting in the crook of his arm and chewing happily upon the crunch of ice crystals among the yarn.

“Whit!” the young hobbit’s cheeks blushed even redder as another voice called his name.

“Whit, I’m afraid you’ll have to give young Master Faramir back to his mama now,” Trefoil said as she emerged from the kitchen and excused herself past Diamond to take the babe, her own cheeks reddening a bit as she neared the window, and hand him back to his mother’s arms.

“The tea is on, Gran,” she said to Mistress Birdsong, leaning to tuck the fringed blanket more tightly about the unmoving legs as she said lightly, “and I’m not so certain-sure as havin’ the window op’d this long is good for you, nor for the babe.”

Whit looked stricken and apologetic, hastening to pull down the sash with a yes’m and another hasty bow as Trefoil glanced at him out of the corner of her eye from where she bent over her grandmother’s lap.

“Oy, fiddle-faddle!” Mistress Birdsong answered, her torso swaying as she lightly swatted at Trefoil’s hands. “I’ll be fine with a bit o’ fresh air. Unless,” she looked up with a sudden uncertainty at Diamond, “you dinna think it’d hurt the babe, Mistress?” she asked in a voice that was suddenly tremulous and old.

“I-” Diamond squirmed a bit as she reseated herself in the room’s other overstuff chair, Farry once again playing with blocks at her feet. “I am sure he is fine from it,” she said with a smile.

“Well. Of course he is,” Mistress Birdsong began again. “I know quite a few hobbitesses who are allus sendin’ their children out to get some air; why, just down the street, there’s--”

Trefoil smiled and squeezed her gran’s hand, rising from her knees at the old hobbitess’s next words: “Oh, but you should get back to the kitchen, Trefoil dear, and finish gettin’ things up nice to bring out for our tea. I’ve sent Whit off for some of Mistress Cooper’s spiced cake, and I know you can red up a nice serving in no time, so it should be near as nice as to the Great Smials!”

Trefoil murmured an “Excuse me, Mistress,” as she maneuvered past Diamond’s chair and back to the kitchen.

“I’m--” Diamond began, just as Mistress Birdsong trilled, “So--”

They both stopped, and then the older hobbitess laughed and touched her hand to a white curl, which gave a little bounce, as she offered, “Guests first, of course.”

Diamond smiled back at her. “I merely wished to sayin person how sorry I am to be keeping Trefoil away for Yule again this year,” she said sincerely. “And, of course, Buckland is rather far...” she trailed off, looking down the side of her skirt to see Farry nudging a block across the floor. “But, of course, it’s quite possible that this should be the last time we would take her from you at the holidays...” Diamond deliberately let the sentence hang, as Mistress Birdsong’s keen ears picked up on it.

“Why?” she asked sharply. “Is there aught amiss with her work?” Her tone changed to one of complete confidence as she went on, “ I never had aught to complain of with that lass, never since I took her in after my son and his wife passed on. Allus done what she’s been told, she has, and done it right well, and wi’ no complaints.”

“Mistress Birdsong,” Diamond interrupted, seeing that the old hobbitess was working herself into an upset, and a long listing of Trefoil’s virtues. “We have no complaints with her work at the Smials, either,” she said comfortingly, and then added, with her own hesitation, “it is just that -- well, she shall come of age in Rethe, of course, and we do not know if she shall be staying at the Smials past that time.”

Diamond reached the tips of her fingers out and scooped up one of Farry’s blocks, holding it before him. Farry gave a short squawk of indignation, but accepted the block and happily placed it in his mouth, continuing to push another one along the floor.

“Is -- is she nae good enough to stay on, then?” Mistress Birdsong said in the tremulous voice again.

“It is not that,” Diamond answered carefully, now trying to convince Farry to remove the block from his mouth through moving another one enticingly before him so that he crawled after it. “It is that we have asked her, and she does not say whether it is her wish to stay on. We -- it had been thought,” Diamond concluded, having traded Farry the block in his mouth for the one in her hand, which was too big to fit within his cheeks, “that perhaps she was needed at home.”

“Bah,” Mistress Birdsong spat out, knocking slightly against her window-rapping stick in its place alongside her chair as she shifted her torso. “I’m not much to take care on. Allus got neighbors runnin’ about to look in on me. Why, one of the Coopers is over here near twice’t a day, a’times, and their Whit--” She stopped, and then continued with a speculative look on her face.

“Their Whit, he’s allus doin’ for me,” she said slowly. “Allus makes a point of comin’ round when Trefoil’s home for visits, too, to see if there’s anything as needs doin’ as requires two sets o’ young hands and legs. Tries to do for Trefoil, too, he does, that lad, allus askin’ her how she’s fixed for rides back to the Great Smials and such.” She finished the speech, delivered at rather a slow pace for her, and continued to look toward the kitchen.

“I see,” Diamond said, smiling. “And Trefoil?” she let the question hang again, and was surprised at the length of the silence which greeted it.

“Trefoil?” repeated her gran again at last, shaking her head. “I dinna know. There’s another lad, as works at the Great Smials as well, and has seen her safe to home on her last two visits, even though ‘tisn’t on his way to his own folks. But Trefoil...Trefoil...”

“Aye, Gran,” the lass called as as she rushed through to the door. “I saw him comin’ from the kitchen!” She opened the smial’s front door to reveal Whit Cooper standing behind a large covered cake dish. “Ma said as she’s pleased you’d be havin’ some, Mistress Diamond,” he said in a rush to get the words out as Trefoil took the cake from him.

“Thank you, Whit,” Diamond replied politely, and he gulped and bowed again, muttering, “Mistress Diamond,” and “Mistress Birdsong,” and finally, “Trefoil,” upon which word, and which face, he hung just a moment longer than the other two before the lass whispered back to him, with a blush upon her face, “Whit,” and he took off running from the doorstep.

‘Oh, dear,’ Diamond thought sharply, staring at Trefoil’s face as she watched him run, but hearing in her mind Pippin’s laughter three years ago in a Buckland smial, and his voice saying of Bert, “take a look when you get back to the Smials, why don’t you?” followed closely by Mistress Birdsong’s voice from this afternoon: “Allus done what she’s been told.”


“Shh! Shh!” came the warning as the two hobbits stumbled through the anteroom, a warning rather ruined in its effect by the clatter of the tin water dipper as one bumped against it in the dark, and by the giggle that came from the other one.

“All right, all right, I’m ‘sshing’!” came the second voice as a key turned in the lock and Merry and Pippin stumbled into the kitchen of Crickhollow. “Although -- why I am shushing, Pip?” Merry asked quite reasonably, in a normal tone of voice, lighting both a lamp upon the table and then his pipe as he plopped himself down into a kitchen chair. “There’s no one else here; they’re all back up at the Hall.”

“Because ‘tis night,” Pippin answered, with another giggle, collapsing onto another of the chairs. “Time for ‘sshing’!”

Merry looked beyond his pipestem to where his younger cousin had slouched forward, chin resting upon arms folded on the table.

“How much of that eggnog did you have again?” he asked quizzically, because drat if he could remember...

“Some,” Pippin giggled, and hiccuped, “and jusht some brandy, some. But jusht one snifter. But you gotta have Brandy. Ish Brandy Hall,” he said.

Both cousins waited a breath, then burst into laughter.

“Oy, if I had a penny for every time I’d heard that...,” Merry laughed, wiping tears from his eyes with one hand and balancing his pipe in the other.

“Charge ‘em,” Pippin suggested, from where his head was still pillowed on his arms. “Make ‘em pay to keep the Brandybucks in -- in brandy!” he laughed again, and then began fiddling, glassy-eyed, with the honey pot Estella had left set out upon the table, ready for first breakfast.

Merry, familiar with Pippin’s mess-making skills, and with Estella’s feelings about spilt honey, used his foot to push Pippin’s chair back a few inches from the table.

“Hoy!” Pippin yelped as he scrambled to keep his bottom seated upon the moving platform. “You’re mean, Merry,” he said, folding his arms and pouting once the chair had been moved far enough away that the honey pot was out of reach.

Merry snorted. “Smoke your pipe, Pip,” he said. “That’s where we said we were going, anyway.”

“Oy, they all know we snuck down here,” Pippin answered carelessly as he took a pipe from his pocket and filled it.

“Fine, then,” Merry said comfortably, reaching up to unfasten his cloak. “They’ll know where we are for the night, then.”

“Oy, Merry, I’ve got to go back,” Pippin answered, fidgeting with the clasp on his own cloak with one hand, but leaving it fastened.

“Why, Pip?” Merry asked, and Pippin answered immediately, “Faramir. Diamond.”

“You and Diamond’ve stayed here before, Pip,” Merry reminded him. “You still could, you know.”

“’Tisn’t where all the baby things are, Merry,” Pippin answered easily, then added softly, “We tried, Merry, and ‘tis just -- just so much easier at the Hall.”

Merry shrugged, and tapped at his pipe before putting it back in his mouth and, hands crossed behind his neck as he looked up at the ceiling, said, “Estella’ll probably stay at the Hall for the night, as well. She does that, sometimes, when there’s visitors.”

Pippin nodded, swinging one foot onto the other knee before asking, “And do you ever stay at the Hall?”

Merry shrugged. “Sometimes,” he answered the ceiling.

A few moments of silence, then, “Pip?”

“Aye?”

“What are you trying to do with Duro?”

It was Pippin’s turn to snort, and to find himself staring at the ceiling. “Trying to get him to see lasses as real hobbits. To get him to be part of a family, instead of sticking all his pride in the name at the foot of his family tree. Trying to get him to treat my sister as a hobbitess and not some prize pig.”

Merry wrinkled his brow. “I thought it was a pony he compared her to?”

“Oy!” Pippin answered, rolling his eyes. “You and your ponies.” A moment, then he continued. “’Tis turnabout. For all those years she called me ‘Piglet.’ ‘Tis only fair.”

“Mmm,” Merry mumbled around his pipe.

“Merry?”

“Aye?”

“I havena the slightest idea what I am doing.”

“I know the feeling well,” came the heartfelt sigh of an answer.

“Pervinca,” Pippin continued after a moment. “When Barliman let her off for Yule, and we met her and Nob with the cart at the bridge...”

“Aye?” Merry prompted.

“She looked as if she dinna know whether to slug me or to kiss me,” Pippin said.

“Another feeling with which I am intimately familiar,” Merry answered.

Pippin stuck his tongue out at him, and they both puffed upon their pipes for a few moments.

“So -- are you sending her back to Bree?” Merry asked at last.

Pippin snorted again. “Mayhap,” he answered. “Least, that’s what we’ll call it, and let me take the blame with Duro and the Proudfeet--”

“Proudfoots,” Merry and Pippin chorused together, taking their pipestems out of their mouths to do so.

“He already thinks I’m half-cracked, anyway,” Pippin said when they had finished with their laughter.

“I know that -- well, I mean, but -- why should a lass want to go back to Bree?” Merry finally asked, brow furrowed.

Pippin stared at him a moment, then shrugged as he fiddled with his pipe again. “She did say aught about pin money,” he muttered to his lap.

“Oh. Aye,” Merry nodded as if he understood, and then moved on to the next question.

“Estella wants to know if it’s still all right for her to be friends with Pervinca, or if she should treat her like one of the servants now.”

Pippin stared at his cousin. “Meriadoc Brandybuck,” he finally said. “Who is your best friend what lives in the Shire, present company excepted?”

“Sam, of course,” Merry answered, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

“And what does Sam do?” Pippin asked in the same tone he used to get Farry to touch his nose, or his ears.

“He’s the Mayor,” Merry answered.

“No, F-- Merry,” Pippin continued in the singsong. “That’s his title. What does Sam do?”

“Well, he’s always been a gardener,” Merry cogitated out loud.

“Very good!” Pippin answered, and clapped his hands together in delight before bringing his pipe back to his mouth, during which process the word “daft” could be heard muttered.

Merry smiled, but couldn’t resist asking, “So, is that your answer?”

Pippin shot him a look. A couple of moments more, and Merry had another question.

“Pip?”

“Aye?”

“Is Uncle Paddin really well enough for this trip?”

Pippin didn’t answer for a moment, taking his pipe from his mouth and turning it from side to side, so that an ash fell upon the floor and he absently rubbed out the spark with his toes, seeming not to notice what he was doing.

Merry refrained from remarking upon it, either.

“He’s in one of his better phases now, again,” Pippin finally said quietly. “But he’s never truly well anymore. I think -- I think he truly wanted to see your mother for Yule this year, and ‘twould be easier for Pervinca, and..” Pippin shrugged.

“So long as one or t’other of us is there to read the post in the servants’ quarters on Second Yule, ‘twas naught could convince him otherwise. He’s a stubborn hobbit when he wants to be.”

“It’ll be a long ride, through the night,” Merry said with sympathy. Pippin shrugged again. “I’ve done it before,” he said quietly, “and Nellie will be fine.”

“Hoy, Merry,” Pippin said in the dark outside Crickhollow again.

“What?” came Merry’s voice.

“Happy Yule.”

“Oh. Happy Yule, Pip.”

“No, no!” Pippin answered crossly. “’Tis a gift!”

“Er...what, Pip?”

“For you and Estella.” A breath. “Diamond told me I was wrong.”


Farry in her arms, Diamond paced the length of the sitting room in their quarters, trying to determine what she should tell Pippin of her visit to Tooksank.

“You know, husband, it is not only I who must obey you...” she murmured as practice, jostling Farry up and down while he gnawed on a biscuit held in one hand and tugged some of her curls loose with the other.

Diamond reached up to free her hair from a particularly hard yank, muttering both to Farry, and to Pippin, in her imagination, “No, no. I know you didn’t mean to--”

And then, looking at her son in her arms, who was Heir to the Heir and would be Thain some day in his turn, Diamond was struck with the sadness of it all, and of the overwhelming impossibility that she should be expected to train a lad up right for that responsibility.

When Pippin arrived a few minutes later, he found Farry happily munching upon a biscuit on the floor, but Diamond seated, weeping, upon the settee, one of Healer Willow’s books open beside her.

“Diamond?” he asked, hurrying to kneel before her and take her hands in his. “What ‘tis it? What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” Diamond sobbed as her grey eyes were revealed, “It’s just -- just that that lass is so sad, but feels she must stay, and Bert isn’t Rufus at all; Whit is, and it’s all your fault!” she finished with an offended sniff.

Pippin had been a little stunned at that, but once everything was sorted out later and Diamond, mortified, trying to express contrition for her earlier behavior, he beamed proudly and fondly at her, kissed her with his hands gentle about her waist, and assured her, “Of course, Diamond, ‘tis quite all right.”


“Thank you, Mistress,” Trefoil smiled and accepted a small sack from Diamond as they stood in the yard of the Smials among the bustle of carts and ponies there for the first of Rethe, moving some tweens into and out of the Smials, and their families to and from rented-out farms. “It has been a pleasure working at the Great Smials.”

“Thank you for saying so, Trefoil,” Diamond answered, trying to draw her cloak a bit more snugly across her front in the face of the wind. “Please give my regards to Mistress Birdsong.”

“Oh, I -- we certainly shall,” Trefoil answered, blushing as Whit appeared from around the side of the cart to stammer out another greeting to Diamond and hand Trefoil in.

“Bert?” Pippin asked as he walked by the lee of one of the Smials’ doors after most of the carts had departed.

“...willna ever understand lasses,” the hobbitservant was muttering to himself. “Says she’s back to bein’ strong enough to tote her own washin’ baskets ever since the new year, and then she don’t even lift a finger to help that hobbit what with puttin’ her trunk on a cart. Lasses!” he snorted.

“Bert,” Pippin began, with a hand on the hobbitservant’s sturdy shoulder. “Er. Umm.” He ducked his head, hesitant, and shuffled his feet as he added, “I think I had better buy you an ale.”


“Hoy, there! You, Bert! Help us with this tub, will you?” Sage asked as she and Second Cook Geranium dragged it toward it toward Pippin and Diamond’s quarters, setting it where the healer indicated.

“Honestly,” Sage said lightly to Bert as she pushed him back out to the corridor and into place before the door. “You lads. It’s as if you’d never know what’s what if a lass weren’t to take the time to tell you. Stand,” she pointed at Bert. “Wait. Fetch.” Then she smiled at him, and closed the door behind her.

Pippin smiled cautiously, seating himself gingerly on the bed beside Diamond and reaching out a finger to gently run across the light frizz on the tiny new head.

Diamond smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It is another lad,” she said. “For you to name.”

“Aye,” Pippin whispered, and took the babe from her arms into his.

“I had thought -- that ‘tis, if ‘twas all right with you--” he looked at Diamond from under the same long lashes which fluttered upon the babe’s cheeks -- “to name him Gerier. After your father,” he explained.

“Oh,” Diamond’s grey eyes filled with tears, which pooled on the sleeve of Pippin’s shirt. “Husband, are -- are you sure?” she asked with a tremble in her voice. “To name him for the North-Tooks?”

“Aye,” Pippin whispered, and nudged her head up with his nose so that he could kiss her, while little Garry protested with a squirm and a wail.

“These tensions must only last as long,” he whispered, “as neither one admits that he is wrong.”

Chapter 26: In the Rough

[warning: character death]

“Hoy.” The often raucous greeting fell from Pippin’s lips not in a shout, but in a quiet tone, near a whisper. The hushed voice seemed appropriate to the stillness of this pool, the only sounds the lapping of the Brandywine’s backwaters and the birds in the trees.

“Hoy,” Merry greeted him listlessly from where he sat on the bank beneath a linden tree’s shade, his ankles dangling in the shallows and a carven horn lying in his lap.

“I’ve helped to carry the last lot into the Hall, and Estella’s directing where it shall all go,” Pippin said. He sat next to Merry on the same narrow spit of land among the water, his knees drawn up to his chest to keep his feet firmly planted on dry ground, as he said, “’Tis nearly finished.”

“Aye,” Merry said with a sigh, and looked at the horn in his lap as he began idly turning it back and forth between his hands, the silver shining beneath the slickness of his sweat.

He had blown this horn before: every year at the anniversary of the Battle of Bywater, for one. And though the notes he sounded echoed those from the Horn of Buckland for ages past, Merry thought always that his parting gift from Eowyn brought with its tones not only a clear power that seemed to shimmer from the silver, but also a faint, lingering song that carried with it the melancholy of friends far away.

He began once more to lift the horn to his lips, but Pippin’s hand laid upon his and stopped his movement.

Pippin’s hand squeezed over Merry’s, and did not let go.

“I— how’s the new lad?” Merry chocked out around the tears that fell from his bent head after a few moments of silence.

“Oy, Garry’s a fussier babe than Farry, ‘tis for sure,” Pippin said brightly. “Canna understand why ‘tisn’t mealtime the whole day, I think. He’ll go far as a hobbit.” He chuckled.

“I — I’m sorry to take you away from him so soon,” Merry gasped out as he tried to still his tears and the silent sobs that wracked him.

“Pfft!” Pippin made a noise as he shifted his weight to the side, steadying himself with one hand upon the bank while the other patted Merry’s. “Posh and bother, Merry, you knew I’d come, as you needed me!”

“I -- I know,” Merry sniffed, now trying to wipe the tears from his eyes with one hand, the other still upon his lap. “It’s just -- you’ve missed the Fair this year, too...and you should be helping Diamond...”

“Hoy!” Pippin breathed out in a huff, blowing at the curls above his forehead as he flopped back onto his elbows, his knees still raised before him. “Diamond has aught but to ask for help at the Smials. And I dare say the Fair shall have got on quite well without me, for a year. ‘Twas ne’er a sure thing I ‘twould be goin’, anyway, with Gerier nae decidin’ to have himself born till the midst of Forelithe.”

Merry nodded, then his voice broke and he lowered his head to his hands as he sobbed out, “I -- I was going to go to the Fair. With my da.” He peered through his fingers at Pippin, gray-blue eyes filed with the tears that ran between the digits.

“Hoy, Merry, I know,” Pippin said softly. He sat up and gathered the older cousin’s head to him in a hug,letting Merry cry upon his shoulder.

“It -- hic -- it wasn’t supposed to be like this, Pip,” came the torrent of words and of sobs. “He -- he was fine -- even Sam said how healthy he seemed for a hobbit of his age,” Merry sobbed, not noticing Pippin’s slight tensing, or the minutest of hesitations in the pats the younger cousin was bestowing on his back, as he mentioned Saradoc’s health.

“He -- he was supposed to go peacefully one day, in his sleep,” Merry sobbed on, “and then Estella and I would move to the Hall, and it would be sad, but it would be all right as well, because things would have gone as they ought. Then I would be Master of Buckland, and Estella and I would have children to carry on the line, and all would be as it should be! But it’s not like that, Pip,” Merry suddenly declared angrily, and pushed back and away from Pippin to stare him in the face. “Why?” he demanded to know. “Why is it all wrong?”

“I -- I dinna know, Merry,” Pippin said quietly, looking away from his cousin’s flushed, tearstained face to regard the grassy ground, and trail a finger upon it.

“The -- the pony may ha’e been tired,” he said quietly, and with the near-desperation of someone who has repeated the same speculations countless times, searching within them for a hopelessly elusive answer. “Or -- or the axle may ha’e been off on the cart -- or, or the road may ha’e flooded once’t and its layout changed -- or, or Uncle Sara may ha’e been too tired -- or, or I dinna know, Merry!” he ended finally in a high whine, his lower lip trembling as he blinked at his own tears.

He was able to look his cousin straight in the eyes, though, as he concluded, “’Tisn’t any answer.”

“Oh, Pip,” Merry said, and his defiant stance crumpled, his body folding in on itself so he hugged himself behind the knees, rocking back and forth and sobbing quietly anew as Pippin rubbed his back in comfort from behind, the other hand resting lightly on Merry’s knee.

“My mum’s a widow, now, and I’m Master of Buckland, and Estella’s got her wish to move to the Hall; but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Aye, Merry. Aye,” Pippin muttered behind him as he went on in this vein. “Aye. Well I know.”

Merry’s weeping at last last subsided into sniffles, and he wiped again at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I suppose I haven’t been a very good Master these past few days,” he said ruefully, and played once again with the horn in his lap. “Sneaking off down here to let this sound its mourning tunes.”

Pippin shrugged, his hand still on Merry’s back. “”Tis what you needed,” he said simply.

“But, Master Meriadoc,” he said gently after a moment, his fingers closing over Merry’s upon the tip of the horn, “your household needs you, now. Speed to its defense. You’ve heard enough how the horn laments.”


“Happy birthday, dear,” Diamond murmured, leaning over to kiss Pippin’s curls above the tip of his ear as he sat upon the floor of the sitting room.

“I ‘tour!” Farry chirruped from his own spot on the floor, while in Diamond’s arms Garry squawked and squirmed.

“Nae yet, lad,” Pippin, carefully threading a rounded stick through the structure he was constructing, and Diamond added, to their eldest son,

“You will be four next month, Farry. Today is your Da’s birthday.”

“Da?” Farry repeated, his green eyes growing quizzical beneath his darkened curls.

“Aye,” Pippin laughed again, and set another wooden dowel upright in his game. “And I am forty-four!”

“Da birf’day!” Farry chortled, and toddled to where Pippin sat,his chubby bottom falling upon, and scattering across the floor, the pieces of Pippin’s game.

Pippin grabbed his son to hug and tickle him about the tummy, while the draughts in the game set ready upon a higher shelf jumped slightly at the impact, and a knock came at the door.

“Beg pardon, Mr. Pippin,” Bert said after Diamond and Garry had admitted him, “but Thain Paladin has said as he’d like to see you.”


“Aye, Da?” Pippin asked after a few moments of awkward silence, shifting his chair a bit closer to the desk with one hand, while the other held his mug, the chair seat’s shadow covering the light stain upon the carpet in Paladin’s office. “’Tis the ale all right, then?”

Paladin shrugged, took a sip from his own mug with a smacking sound, then followed it with a grimace and, with a teetering hand, set the mug upon the desk.

“I am nae longer much for ale, Pip,” he said in a roughened, quavery voice, his green eyes fixed upon the mug.

“Nor am I much for anything.”

“Da!” Pippin protested, sitting forward, and would have risen from his chair had not Paladin forestalled him.

“Nae,” the elder hobbit said, lowering the raised hand with its slight tremor back to the desk. “Dinna get up. I -- I had wanted to talk to you, Pip.”

Pippin sat still for a moment in the following moments of quiet, the sounds in the office not those of voices, but the sight rasps of a hobbit’s breaths, the tick-tock of the clock’s hands, and the hiss of the ale’s foam as it evanesced.

“Da?” Pippin then prompted again, jiggling now one foot upon the other knee, his thumb tracing along the side of his mug.

“I should like to turn my office o’er to you, son,” Paladin said finally, abruptly.

“B--but, Da, I already have an office,” Pippin said quietly. His chin jutted out and his eyes stared at the carpet as he added petulantly, “’Tis in the same corridor. ‘Tis fine.”

“Pip. Pippin,” Paladin whispered. His hands trembled on his desk, but his eyes were steady upon his son. “I mean nae only the room” -- he moved his hand in a slight gesture to indicate it -- “but the office as a whole, with all its trappings and duty besides.”

“Oh, Da,” Pippin said, a quiet stream of tears flowing down each cheek, “do you need a rest?”

“Aye,” Paladin answered. “And soon it shall be a long one.”

He lifted his arms with the palms facing outward, and Pippin set his mug down upon the Thain’s desk and walked to stand behind it and hug his father, while Paddin held him, too, and continued,

“Ah, my lad, my Pippin; you’ve always been the apple of my eye...

“I had nae expected a lad when you were born,” Pippin heard him say this Afteryule and had heard before over the years and remembered in Afterlithe when he stood again before his father in Thain Paladin’s office as the bees sipped nectar outside and hobbits gathered in the room.

“’Twas nae for me that I cared,” Paladin’s voice echoed through Pippin’s mind as he stepped forward to receive the book of the Yellowskin from his father’s outstretched hands. “’Twould make no difference to Eg and me whether I were Thain or no.

“But, ah, for my lad,” Pad’s voice continued to fill his head as Pippin held the book open before him for hobbits to approach and sign in witness

— first Gerin North-Took, with a beam and a flourish, holding in one arm the just-turned two Gerier, whose kick of delight at seeing his Da so close just missed the nearby ink pot; then Fredegar Bolger, with a curlicue upon the end of his name and an unconscious satisfied pat to his tummy after he had handed on the quill, its end slightly gnawed though it had been in his possession only a short time; followed by Everard Took, who signed proudly and stood there beaming, quill still in hand, until it was tentatively removed by Filibert Furryfoot, who had shyly made his way through the crowd in the space between Duro and Pervinca Proudfoot and who held carefully away from himself the quill with ink upon it, lest he spill any upon the new waistcoat that, as Sage the kitchen lass proudly told her friends and family in the crowd, she had stitched herself; next came Mayor Samwise Gamgee, then Meriadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland, both of whom held Pippin’s eyes with warmth in their own as they signed, and then clasped his shoulders to lend support and strength, before they each stepped back to stand next to the wives holding their infant children in their arms, Merry’s son just one month old; and finally came the halting, supported steps and the palsied handwriting of Paladin Took

— and Pippin heard the voice continue, “For my lad, ‘twere to be nought but the best the Shire could give: the Great Smials, the best healers, aught that there could be.

“For ‘twere the best of all I could give, and what I had dreamed of since first I held ye, for my lad to be–”

“Thain Peregrin!” shouted the assembled hobbits in acclamation.

In the moment of dulled chatter which followed, Pippin set aside the book, his own signature topping the list, and bent his head to rest a cheek upon his father’s snow-white curls, the old hobbit whispering, from within the circle of his son’s arms, “Thain Peregrin.”


A breeze rustled through the tops of Tookland’s trees, bringing a slight chill to the uncovered heads and clasped hands among the hobbits who stood gathered on a hillside near the Great Smials.

Pippin’s curls ruffled in the breeze as he faced the group. Loosely, in one hand, Thain Peregrin held a sheaf of papers, but he did not need to read them as his eyes sought the twilight of the western horizon. “He goes, now, to a far country, with cool sunlight and green grass,” Pippin murmured quietly at last, then crouched and took up a handful of loose dirt, letting it fall through his fingers to land upon the box which held what had once been Paladin Took.

Pippin’s eyes were moist, and a single tear glistened upon each cheek, but his heart was eased as he rose from his father’s side and stepped back to stand at his wife’s. Paladin, Pippin knew from his own memories, had been free at last to cast off not only all doubt and care and fear, but also all pain.

He smiled tightly at Diamond, and lay a hand upon hers that rested on his arm, as the other hobbits moved forward with their own contributions to the earth.

Pearl and her husband, and Pimpernel and Everard, and Aster and Farry and Clover and Ivy and Harcourt and Bramimond and all the other grandchildren old enough to walk unaided threw down their handfuls of soil and whispered their own words of departure. The Proudfoot children, cowed by the occasion, hovered quietly, flitting between clutching at the skirts of their mother and at those of her sisters their aunts.

First, though, to approach the open grave after Pippin had concluded his speech, was Eglantine, supported under one arm by Pervinca.

The always small hobbitess now seemed tinier than ever, lines sagging her face with grief as her tall daughter brought her forward. From amongst the crowd, Duro Proudfoot made a hesitant motion of approach, which caught Pervinca’s eyes. She hesitated a moment, then nodded, and he came forward to support Eglantine’s other side as she walked and then knelt at the grave.

“No day will dawn,” she whispered as the soil fell from her hands, “that I don’t mourn and weep.”


“So, that shall be the menu for the first of the Yule feasts, then,” First Cook Geranium said, setting the receipt cards back into their box as she and Diamond sat at table. “There’ll be a lot of baking to do this month, there will.”

“Aye,” Diamond said, lunging deftly to catch little Garry, determined to reach the floor, before he tumbled out of her arms. “But you need not wear yourself down, so,” she commented, glancing at Gerry’s extensive notes as she set Garry down to toddle toward his toys.

“Ach!” Gerry answered lightly. “’Tisn’t a bit more than what Petunia was used to do, and I’ll have help besides.

“I’ll not give that old hobbitess reason to regret that she’s rocking by the fire this year, instead of slammin’ pots about in the kitchen.”

“Aye,” Diamond laughed softly. “Though I do believe Mistress Eglantine quite appreciated the gingerbread Petunia shared with her after she threw you from your own kitchen the other day.”

“Aye, that she did, I’m sure,” Gerry laughed in return. “And I’m sure there’s another old hobbitess what’ll have no cause regret rocking by a fire this year,” she said, and patted Diamond’s hand.

“Especially,” Gerry said as she stood from the table, stepping carefully over Garry and stopping near where Farry’s rump protruded from underneath the sofa, where his toy hobbit was busy “tunneling,” “as she has such fine grands to share her gingerbread.”

Diamond laughed softly and stood as well, preparing to retrieve Farry from his tunnel, when the door to the quarters burst open and slammed back against the wall.

The noise startled Garry so he began to wail, and surprised Farry, who bumped his head on the underside of the sofa as he scooted out, adding his own cries to his brother’s.

Gerry bent toward Garry, while Diamond stared at what the open door revealed: a disheveled Pervinca, her curls awry, a dressing gown loosely belted over her frock, and a pale face blotched with the redness of tears.

“Pippin!” she choked out in a harsh cry.

Diamond was advancing, hands held out, as she said, “He is not--”

--when her husband’s footfalls sounded through the corridor, running with a gait that heavily placed more weight upon one foot than the other.

He, too, burst into the doorway, running near headlong into his sister so that they both stumbled and caught each other about the arms.

“Pip--” Pervinca choked out while he asked her, his own face pale, “Mama?”

“Aye,” Pervinca whispered, and nodded, then burst again into tears, resting her head upon her brother’s shoulder as he, too, held her and wept.


Pink shadows lengthened, the gray fingers of evening creeping forward with a biting chill as the hobbits stood this time upon the hillside.

“C--cool sunlight and g--green grass,” Pippin choked out the words that belied the sere landscape of the day, then crouched to rain down upon another coffin another handful of dirt: not the loose soil of two months prior, but hard, pebbled dirt which cut into his hands though, fortunately, it had not yet frozen solid.

He sobbed, his head bent, over the grave of she who had not been expected to follow so soon the one she grieved, allowing Diamond to help him to his feet as she, too, threw down a fistful of dirt and Eglantine’s daughters, sons-in-law and grandchildren again repeated the ritual as well.

When the last hobbit, save those who would work with shovels in the lantern-light so that no new day would dawn upon an uncovered grave, had finished, Pippin leaned upon the support Diamond’s arm linked in his offered, allowing her to give both the physical strength she had so provided since they were wed and, in his weariness, to lead him onward.

His thoughts were in a fog as the procession reached a side door of the Smials and entered, and he almost did not notice when, as smaller groups began to break off and wend toward the supper, a pair of hobbits in traveling clothes of cloaks and gloves and heavy mufflers attempted to push their way against the traffic.

“Excuse me,” said the older, with an impatient tone, “but we have traveled far to see The Took.”

Pippin gasped and almost stumbled as those words did cut through the air. His eyes flicked in the direction of the hillside outside the Smials where she who, until so recently, had borne this title now lay.

And then he realized that he himself was now both Took and Thain, and he drew a shuddering breath with but a hiccup of a sob in it, and started to straighten himself to his full height.

Diamond’s placing of her free hand upon his arm arrested him, though. Pippin’s wife, feeling in her arms the heaviness which dogged his steps and seeing in his eyes the grief which clouded his thoughts, allowed her voice to cut through the others’ soft murmurs in the corridor, and the louder tone of the visitors.

“Thain Peregrin,” she said, in the tone she had learned since childhood which imbued that title with respect and would brook no contradiction, “is not now to be disturbed.”

She nodded curtly toward a breathless servant who had appeared behind the visitors, and gestured toward them. That servant, and others of the Smials who approached, hastened to draw away the visiting hobbits, and to do the bidding of this year’s new Mistress of the Smials. Some there were who had become acquainted with her seven years ago, and were quite aware that Mistress Diamond Took knew well both her place, and what was proper.

As the servants firmly escorted the visitors away, Diamond again propelled Pippin along, steering him soon into a door that opened onto what had been his parents’ sitting room.

Still and quiet it was, already, with a smattering of suddenly bare spots among the tables and walls where once had been treasures that a daughter, or cousin, or friend, had clasped to a bosom in remembrance, and taken to a new home.

Diamond shut the door behind them and lit but one lamp after she had guided Pippin to sit upon the old couch where he had catnapped since he was a child.

Then she sat next to him, and took his head in her arms, running her fingers through his curls as she let him sniffle and sob.

“There, now,” she said. “Pippin.

“Aye, you are now the Took and the Thain,” she whispered, and kissed the tip of his ear as he sobbed harder against her, “but with me, my darling” -- she brushed the curls back and away from his forehead so that her clear gray eyes could look long into his tear-filled pools of green as she said, “you need be only my husband.”

Chapter 27: “Are Forever...”

Great Smials, Halimath, 1435

”Hoy!” Pippin called, flattening himself against the wall of the stables as the pony rushed past. “Watch where you’re goin’, there! ‘Tis no rush!”

“Aye, but you dinna want me to be late, do you?” Pervinca grinned unrepentantly, vaulting herself from the saddle and handing the reins to a stablehobbit to walk the pony a bit before stabling it for the night.

She bent forward to catch her own breath, drawing off her leather riding gloves as she did so and slapping them lightly against the front of her skirt.

Pippin merely rolled his eyes, content for once not to respond, and brother and sister strolled together toward the Smials.

“I should ha’e thought arrivin’ two days afore the weddin’, you would nae have had to worry about bein’ late,” Pippin said after a few moments.

“Posh!” Pervinca answered, waving the gloves in front of her face to fan it. “’Twas just a little run to make sure Prancer stays brushed up on his toes whilst I’m here.

“Besides, Pip,” she nudged her brother with an elbow to the side, causing him to stumble sideways slightly, “’twas you who invited me to come a bit early, for the lasses’ sake.

“And well you’ve known that I’ve been here since yestermorn; ‘tis just you who could nae be torn away from his duties ‘til now to come and offer greetings.”

Pervinca stopped walking a moment, pulled her skirts out wide to her sides, and dropped into a curtsy with her head bowed, though with a simpering smile upon her face.

“Greetings, Thain Peregrin,” she said while still deep in the curtsy. “’Tis your humble servant from the--”

“Get up!” Pippin laughed, pulling gently on Pervinca’s elbows to raise her up. When she was standing, the two hugged briefly, laughing, then continued their walk toward one of the side doors.

“How has it been, then, for the lasses on their summer visits, have you heard?” Pippin asked, holding the door for his sister.

Passing under his arm with a slight duck, Pervinca saw the faint line of a furrow begin between her brother’s eyes: a furrow he was unaware he was creating, but that signaled to his family and friends that he was, indeed, thinking on the business of Thain and Took.

Pervinca shook off the pang of wistfulness that passed through her as Pippin closed the door behind them, and answered lightly, “Aye, it has gone well, as far as I’ve heard. Clover and Ivy had the run about the place at Whitwell, along with Pearl’s bairns, and had some chance to see their Proudfeet cousins as well, between that and comin’ here to spend some time with Nellie and Aster.

“Mayhap we’ll send them for some such summer visits each year, or perhaps ‘t could be the lads’ turn next,” Pervinca said with studied casualness. Then she laughed, “As it seems I’m like to be closer to these parts of the Shire in the summer months than I am to Duro and the shop. I think I see what Aunt Essie was on about when she sent Merry here for the summers, and Mama and Da when they sent you off for visits to Bag End and Brandy Hall.”

“’Twas you, I remember,” Pippin said, making an effort to keep the corners of his lips from twitching into a smile as they were wont, and thus ruining his dignity, “who, as a tween, was given quite effusive permission to visit relatives in Sarn Ford for “’as long as they would have you.’ Merry and I were perfectly adorable lads in our turn.”

He stole a sidelong glance at Pervinca, and it was too much for his mouth, which broke into a wide grin, and then a laugh, which Pervinca joined.

“Hoy, Pip,” she said, and took her brother’s hand, squeezing it as they walked through the corridor. “’Tis all right, truly. Duro is -- well, ‘tis as if we have our own hole, in part of the Tunnelings, now, and nae longer need to depend on his sisters, nor does he have to work under the shadow of his brothers.

“He’s set up a small business in leather work in Oatbarton, when he is nae helping Gerin with the shop. And, while that is nae his either, ‘tis enough, I think, to know that Bram and Harry will have quite the opportunities in the North Farthing -- where they seem to be quite sparse in gentlehobbits,” Pervinca laughed ruefully.

Pippin sighed wistfully, and the furrow was back between his eyes “Aye,” he sighed. “I could wish that the North Farthing hobbits had not sent their delegation regarding the North-Tooks’ lack of an heir at such a time...”

“Oh, come now,” Pervinca said, swinging their hands between them. “Gerin is fine now; ‘twas just a bit of overreaction on some hobbits’ part.”

“Aye,” Pippin smiled faintly. “And Garry’s future...well, ‘tis a bit much to decide what path someone should walk when that someone is nae more than a faunt.”

“Aye,” Pervinca said quietly, herself, then looked toward her brother, tears shining on her own lashes above a small smile, “And Mama would ha’e understood, Pip. She did always say that Tooks, in general, had no sense of timing.”

Brother and sister both laughed again, through a few tears.

Then Pervinca withdrew her hand from her brother’s, squared her shoulders back, and put on a no-nonsense voice, ready to discuss business.

“Now, Pip,” she said, “I know you said ‘twould be the full bit for this, but I dinna see how--”

“Dinna worry about it,” Pippin said abruptly, stuffing both hands in his pockets and looking determinedly ahead.

“Pip -- you’re paying for this, aren’t you?” Pervinca realized.

Silence met her.

“But--”

“Hoy!” Pippin cut her off, waving a hand suddenly in front of her face. He looked at his feet and rocked back slightly onto the heels as he continued, “’Tis nae only to the North-Tooks I owe a duty.”


The hobbit and hobbitess stood before Pippin, their hands clasped, as a slight breeze out of the startlingly bright blue sky blew a very few gold and russet leaves among the assembled guests.

Many guests there were, too: relatives and friends of both sides who’d traveled to witness the festivities; Smials hobbits -- both gentles and servants -- who had spilled out of the doors for the event of this Highday -- and, among all sorts of the guests, a few hangers-on who merely appreciated a good party.

Pippin asked the hobbitess whether she promised to love and to honor the hobbit she was to wed, and she answered boldly, her eyes clear and her face plump beneath the wreath of aster which crowned her head, “Aye, sir, that I do.”

He turned then to the hobbit, and asked whether he, too, promised to love, to honor, and to “o -- rder your life around that love and that honor,” he concluded, grinning at the stifled gasps that had swept through the crowd as he began a word that sounded suspiciously like “obey.”

“I -- I,” that sturdy hobbit, uncomfortable with so many eyes upon him, coughed out in nearly a whisper, then belted out, “do!” in a much louder tone after a not-so-subtle squeeze of the hand from his partner.

Pippin smiled upon them both as he presented, “Filibert and Sage Furryfoot!”

“A grand wedding, Pip,” Merry said a short while later, giving an appreciative thump to a barrel which stood near the food tables. “Mighty fine container of ale,” he added before swallowing.

“’Twas a gift come from Tooksank,” Pippin smiled into his own mug, the noise of the music and dancing floating from the slight hollow behind him. “From a former -- admirer -- of the groom.”

Merry shrugged and refilled his glass. “It’s all to the good for making a grand party,” he said philosophically, then raised his glass in a toast as he looked slightly behind Pippin’s head. “Especially if visiting cousins can be invited.”

“Now, that’s not all I am, Mr. Merry, and you know it,” Sam said calmly as he stepped from behind Pippin on his own way to the ale barrel. “I’m one of the ones as had a job here today.”

“And you done it good, too,” the bride said, accepting the glass of ale Sam had just poured. “Ma’d be like to bust her buttons ‘bout havin’ the Mayor and the Thain in my weddin’, if she wasn’t rememberin’ Dad, too, and the Troubles,” Sage said, then took two hearty swallows of her ale as the music swelled.

“’Heel to Heel’!” Pervinca called out from where she was seated before the spinet, hauled out of the Smials and set upon the wooden platform gentlehobbits used for such outdoor parties. For those who wanted the music outdoors at their gatherings, but had no such platform, or did not wish to pay a tuner to come in afterward, she relied on her lute -- much easier to carry about strapped to her back on a pony.

“Step we gaily,
On we go,

she began the sprightly tune,

heel to heel
and toe for toe!”*

Sage, formerly Goodchild but now Proudfoot, laughed and set down her glass. “Come on, cousin Sam,” she said, “You have to dance with me, too, you know, whilst my Ma has Bert.”

Merry snickered as Sam stumbled slightly in turning away from the ale barrel, and Pippin commented cheekily, “’Tis a good thing you are not working for the harvest today, eh, Sam?”

“I harvested in the spring this year,” Sam called back over his shoulder as Sage led them toward the group of dancers which included Bert, her mother, and his sister, “It was a fine crop of Primrose!”

“Pip!” Pimpernel said urgently, pushing her way toward him through the crowd of hobbits and brushing with irritation at the curls that were escaping down the side of her face, “you need to come!”


“And you shall learn to ride ponies, and go to the Fair, and come in the voting booth with me...,” Pippin whispered, two days later, to the tiny babe half-slumbering in the crook of his body as he stretched out upon the bed. His wife, dozing as well, lay propped against the pillows.

“...and you shall always have the best of all good things,” he continued. “Da’s little Pudding.”

“Husband,” Diamond’s low, sleepy voice came from the pillows above his head, and Pippin raised his eyes toward her, his lips still tickling the baby’s tummy.

“Aye?” he whispered, and Diamond smiled back.

“Her name,” she said, and reached for the now almost-fussing babe, “is Petal.”

“Aye,” he sighed with much-exaggerated regret, and scooted to lean against the pillows next to his wife and his busily eating daughter.

Farry and Garry, when they burst through the door a few moments later, he caught up each arm and admonished them not to jostle their mother or sister.

“We wanna hear a story,” Garry grumbled slightly as he tucked himself between Pippin and Diamond.

“Aye, or a song,” Farry added, curling up on the other side of Pippin.

“Sing Mama’s song!” Garry pleaded.

Pippin looked into the gray eyes of his wife, and began to sing the song he had composed not on another’s behalf, but for her alone.

“Oh, once I took a wife;
And then I set to woo her.
I vow’d to stick thru life,
Like a burr right up next to her.
And she to me did take;
Oh, we’ll be long together.
She lights a path for me,
A Diamond in the night.
And I to her, you see,
Gi’e all I have: my heart,
My soul, and love for her own sake.”**

“Pippin,” Diamond breathed at the tune’s end, and shifted the babe against her breast. She withdrew her other hand from beneath Garry, who now lay slumbering at her side, their older son dozing on the other side of Pippin.

“For giving counsel, defending what is right,” she whispered as he took her hand, “in all the world, there is no better knight.”

“Therefore shall a hobbit leave his father and his mother, and cleeve unto his wife.”***

Finis
(or, as they say in common parlance):
“The End”

_____________________________
*From “Marie’s Wedding”; traditional Irish song.

**Loosely based upon “Last Week I Took a Wife” or “The Cobbler’s Song”; from “The 40 Thieves”; words and music by M. Kelly.

***Genesis 2:24 -- paraphrased ;)

First of all, thank you to everyone who has read this story, and another thank you to the reviewers! I apologize for how long it has taken to complete.

I wanted to mention in these notes: 1) how I came to write this story and 2) the little hidden bits within the chapters. (Mostly I put these in for my own amusement, but I always enjoy knowing the “inside scoop” when others do that, so here’s where you go to find out, chapter by chapter, these little nuggets that I, at least, thought were cool.)

How I Came to Write this Story:

There were actually several elements that came together here.

1) I had read quite a few fics where Diamond was portrayed as cold, or hard, or aloof, or standoffish. Since I love me some PippinAngst, that wasn’t necessarily bad -- but I kept wondering why is she like that? Partly, I wanted to give this fairly common portrayal of her in the fandom a backstory/character development.

2) I was bored one day.

‘Twas a day which recently followed one where I had read some discussion about the meaning/origin/significance of Pippin’s name (Peregrin). I suddenly recalled that the word “paladin” meant something, too -- so I looked it up in the dictionary, and found that a “paladin” was “any of the 12 peers of Charlemagne’s court.”

A link on Wikipedia, I think, brought up lists of the Italian and French names of the 12 peers: on the Italian list was “Ferumbras.” “Hmm,” thought I. “This seems awfully coincidental with the Family Tree of Took of Great Smials...”

While I knew that “in some old families [of the Shire]...it was...the custom to give high-sounding first names...drawn from legends of the past,” [ROTK, Appendix F] without its necessarily “meaning” anything, this seemed enough of a coincidence to inspire some thoughts about playing around with it.

Since the French list of paladins was from the Song of Roland, which I happened to have read within the past couple of years, I got to the point where I decided to challenge myself by seeing how much of that work I could incorporate into my Pippin/Diamond story -- not in a crossover, per se, but just bits and pieces dropped here and there, as in names picked up, quotes adapted, etc. In some ways, this helped shape the story, as a quote would inspire some “what if’s” on a possible scene -- but then again, so did the other aspects that inspired this story. Various characters in HtLC quote Song of Roland in various ways; they are not necessarily equivalent to single characters within that piece.


3) I could not believe how many great “diamond” references were going unused as story titles in the fandom. So I got greedy and decided to use as many as I could as chapter titles.

(I also use chapter titles in long works because I, personally, can never remember upon an update of a fic I am reading which “number” chapter I am on. I have to have a somewhat descriptive title to remind me.)

Then I decided, well, maybe I would do a little bit of research on diamonds, the gemstone, before writing the story. Not only did this turn out to be fun, but it spurred more chapter titles, which in turn spurred new scenes that got scripted into the story. (in particular, “Chapter 15: Lapidarium” and “Chapter 23: Valley of Diamond’s)

4) Every fic I had read had come up with a different explanation of “Long Cleeve” for “Diamond of Long Cleeve” -- but they were all a physical place. Why, I thought, does it have to be geographical? I chose to take a more metaphorical approach to the Long Cleeve, similar to the “Great Schism” of (non-Middle) Earth history, which wasn’t a big hole carved out somewhere but more of a sociocultural tearing apart.

5) Other than Sam’s family, you don’t get much in LOTR from the perspective of the “servant class” of the Shire. I wanted to make the servants at the Smials real characters, with their own lives and issues. In part, probably because of the lingering influence of having read Upstairs, Downstairs years ago; in part because when my own family emigrated from England, they were not the masters of the manor they brought a picture of -- but the maids.

6) When I was forming the relationship that became the marriage I have today, I was also reading a lot of fic in the X-Files fandom: fic that helped me, not so much through specific advice, but more in just examples and thoughtfulness about relationships, to figure out just *how* to build a relationship.

This fic in general -- and Healer Willow’s literary collection especially -- is also a “pay it forward” sort of tribute to the authors of those Mulder/Scully relationship fics and their influence. Thank you, MacSpooky, Windsinger, Susan Proto and Vickie Moseley, especially. (Their stuff is at www.gossamer.org if you’re into that fandom.)

I may not have succeeded, but I did not set out to preach any particular line in this fic; I just wanted to explore different types/aspects of marital relationships, including those that might look similar or have started in different circumstances.

(I would also guess that years of reading “Can This Marriage Be Saved”® in copies of “Ladies’ Home Journal®” exerted a subconscious influence.)

Hidden Bits/Bibliography

First, I am obviously indebted to J.R.R. Tolkien, his estate and heirs, for the world of Middle Earth, Hobbits, the story of the War of the Ring, etc. from The Lord of the Rings trilogy. (Since this story is posted on Stories of Arda: uh, du-uh.)

Also, this particular story incorporated quite a few elements from The Song of Roland. The translation I used of this medieval lay was done by Patricia Terry of Barnard College and published by Macmillan in 1965.

Much of the research on diamonds was done with the book Diamonds and Precious Stones by Patrick Voillot, Harry N. Abrams, 1998.

1) Chapter One: Healing the Long Cleeve

i. “[Paladin] would maintain the confidence in Pippin he had kept since the lad was a babe”
-- Shameless Self-Promotion for the universe of my other stories, which utilize this Pippin-besotted characterization of Paladin, in particular the Pippin-birth story “What Child Is This?”

ii. “ ‘You know, Da, last year I forgot ‘twas my birthday a’tall.’...’I even told a lad in Minas Tirith... that I was still 28 in Rethe’”
-- Reminder that I am an idiot, and the complete fudging that I had to do to deal with Pippin’s statement in JRRT’s ROTK, while coping with the fact that I made his birthday fall on 3 Afteryule as a crucial plot point in my story “Blanketed in Love” -- and thus in the rest of “my” story universe.

iii. “his gift of sweets from the Yule Dwarf.”
--inspired by “Legends and Customs” in Let’s Celebrate Christmas by Horace J. Gardner, A.S. Barnes & Company, 1940. (Also used in “Blanketed in Love.”)

2) Chapter Two: Betrothal Tradition
i. chapter title
--in some cultures, a diamond engagement ring is a “betrothal tradition”

ii. “’He’s quite the little one, ‘tisn’t he?”’”
-- Young Pippin is occasionally called “Little One” by the hobbits of the Great Smials in my stories. In part, this is because Pip’s small for his age. It’s also sort of an obscure reference to the Heir of the Romanov Tsar, particularly as referred to in the book read by my book group The Kitchen Boy by Robert Alexander, Penguin, 2003.

3) Chapter Three: The Hardest Matter
i. chapter title
--partly a reference to the gemstone diamond’s reputation as a physically hard material

ii. Pippin’s pony named Sorrel.
--In The Song of Roland, this is the name of Gerin’s horse.

iii. “Bod,” the servant at the door
--named in honor of a favorite childhood book, Bod’s Present by Michael and Joanne Cole, Follett, 1965.

iv. Diamond’s father: Gerin North-Took
Gérin is the name of one of the peers in The Song of Roland

v. “She’d turned 32 this Astron.”
I put Diamond’s birthday in April because the birthstone for that month is diamond.

vi. “He was quite obviously tall, and strong, and bore himself nobly, and she thought that he must possess more virtues than she would ever be able to describe.”
-- partly a description of Roland from “The Song of Roland”

vii. “If the Tooks went in for titles like the Brandybucks do, they might think first to call him ‘Peregrin the Grand’ for his height, but it should be ‘Pippin the Brief’ for his speeches!”
--Roland was one of the 12 “paladins” of Charlemagne’s court. Historically, “Pippin the Short (aka Pepin le Bref) was Charlemagne’s father. (I was playing with the words here.)

4)Marquise
i.chapter title
--”Marquise” is a form of cut of a diamond gemstone. Also a title of nobility.

ii.”Pippin drew back the coverlets that hung over the side of the bed to expose the storage drawers built into the base.”
--Another reference to my story “Blanketed in Love.”

iii. “just warn me before you move a chair to a position where it may kick me in the shins if I do not expect it!”
--A bit of a reference to a RL marriage -- my parents’ -- where my dad complains about my mom’s penchant for rearranging the furniture.

iv. “Ganelon North-Took -- Diamond’s brother”
--Ganelon is the name of one of the 12 paladins in the Italian version of the list.

5) Chapter Five: ‘Round
i. chapter title
----”Round” is also a form of cut of a diamond gemstone.

ii. “a small round button...such a contraption was to be found in many rooms of the Smials, their pipes trailing along the upper reaches of the corridors until they reached their end at a board in the servants’ quarters.”
--Based on a device I saw on a tour of a 19th century mansion. Unfortunately, I can’t remember which one. It was cool, though.

iii. “And you might say as I look a sight like m’ sister, as was a tween in the kitchens when you was but a little lad.”
--Another reference to “Blanketed in Love.”

iv. ”the roasted taters topped with dill, and the stewed mushrooms, and the wilted greens, and the strawberry-rhubarb compote,”
--I found help in coming up with appropriately seasonal dishes from The Farmer’s Market Cookbook by Richard Ruben, Lyons Press, 2000.

v. “Mama insisted all of us lasses learn to play,”
--also refers to “Blanketed in Love”

vi. “Oh, my darling Nellie, stay...”
--Pimpernel’s song is adapted from, “Darling Nelly Gray,” words and music by Benjamin Russell Hanby, found in Best-Loved Songs of the American People by Denes Agay, Guild America, 1975.

vii. “I knew all the other hobbits called Everard ‘slow’
--also refers to “Blanketed in Love”

6) Chapter Six: Color
i. chapter title
--”Color” is one of the qualities of a diamond.

ii. “It was in Forelithe that Pimpernel’s birthday fell”
--In “my” universe, Pippin’s sisters’ birthdays’ are: Pearl-May (Thrimidge); Pimpernel-June (Forelithe); Pervinca-August (Wedmath). These were created while writing “Blanketed in Love,” shortly after my book group read The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, and assigned according to the names of the “Calendar Sisters” from that book, so I had something by which I could remember them.

iii. the square of moonstone, set within a silvered frame mounted all around with tiny garnets, while a small hunk of rose quartz hung suspended from the bottom.
--Garnets because the gem is supposed to “assist one in being committed to one’s self as well as to others.” (from http:www.annemeplon.com/gemguide.htm#Abalone) Moonstone “is symbolic of the moon, of tenderness, and of lovers.” (from The Illustrated Book of Signs and Symbols by Miranda Bruce-Mitford, DK, 1996) Rose quartz because the pink gem is supposed to symbolize love. (Can’t find the source on that. Grr.)

7) Chapter Seven: Brilliant
i. chapter title
--”Brilliant” is a type of cut of a diamond.

ii. “the errant cattle”
--Some thanks go to my farm-raised husband for reading a portion of this chapter (with much eye-rolling: he doesn’t read fanfic) for “cow accuracy.”

iii. “She removed two small squares of cloth and tipped her bottle of lavender oil so that a drop fell upon each...she twisted one square and inserted it into the ear that was visible.”
--This treatment for cold and sore threat prevention was found under “Cold and Flu Remedies” at http://www.consciouschoice.com/herbs/herbs101.html

iv. “a fresh cup of tea filled with rose hips and laced with honey,”
--A sore throat treatment mentioned in Medicinal Plants Coloring Book by Ilil Arbel, Dover Publications Inc., 1992.

v. a small cheesecloth sack filled with leaves of mint along with him to the bathing room. The mint mixed with the warm water to create a steam”
--A suggestion from http://www.hipusa.com/eTools/webmd/A-Z_Encyclopedia/commoncoldtreatment.htm

vi. “Diamond ran her thumb across the moonstone...The water in the washbasin atop the furniture pulled back from the side...Two months”
--Moons, tides, checking the monthly calendar...hopefully, any female over the age of 13 reading this gets the reference.

vii. Healer Willow
--Named partly for the healing power of willow-bark, the forerunner of today’s aspirin -- and partly for the wife/mother in the Treehouse Family toy I played with as a kid.

viii. “she would pass by Cap Hilldown’s smithy shop...”
--I always thought Laura Ingalls Wilder should have had more of a crush on Cap Garland in her books; he seemed more fun than stodgy Almanzo.

8) Chapter Eight: Sparkling

i. “a sack full of dough balls which had been deep-fried in a kettle of oil over the booth owner’s fire, then rolled in sugar.”
--The mini-donut stand at the Minnesota State Fair is located in front of the grandstand. Mmm.

ii. “Diamond? Would you like some milk?”
--The all-you-can-drink milk booth is located not too far away from the dairy barns at the Minnesota State Fair.

iii. “It was shaped like a pig, true, but seemed nearer in size almost to one of the cattle as it lay there with its hoofs pointed toward her, sides heaving, doing nothing but flicking an occasional fly away with its ear.”
--This is pretty much what the Big Boar at both the Minnesota and Iowa State Fairs does for the entire run of the fair.

iv. “Tookland eggs,” Pippin said, handing one stick to Diamond and taking a nibble of the bread-crumbed oval on the other himself. He swallowed, then smiled and said, “A hard-cooked egg, coated in sausage, then dipped into a beaten eggs, rolled in bread crumbs, and fried. Mmm.”
--The booth selling Scotch eggs at the Minnesota State Fair is located in the corner near the animal barns. Not as bad as they sound. (Not as good as the mini-doughnuts, though.)

v. slices of roast pork in a rich sauce and encased between slices of bread, piles of beans, and slices of melon. They then made their way to sit among the other hobbits.
--In honor of meals consumed at the Iowa State Fair at the Pork Producers booth. (My family ate there for lunch; at the Cattlemen’s Association booth for supper.)

vi. Odo Proudfoot
--An “o” Proudfoot name chosen in recognition of a reviewer’s appreciation of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

vii. portraits and the landscapes these hobbits could create with such materials. She leaned close to study the likenesses crafted with careful arrangements of dried beans, and sunflower seeds, and kernels of maize that had been glued into the design.
--”Seed art” is displayed at the Creative Activities buildings of both the Iowa and Minnesota State Fairs. And, really, how much more hobbity of an art form can one come up with?

viii. “two-year-old Harcourt”
--As in “Harcourt Fenton Mudd,” of original Star Trek episodes “Mudd’s Women” and “I, Mudd”

ix. “Bramimond, at four,”
--Bramimonde is the name of the enemy queen -- who is offered the old-fashioned version of redemption -- in Song of Roland.

x. “I will find some little trick to play, myself,” he vowed silently, the very tips of his lips quirking up. “Something fit to relieve my fury at these wrongs.” Among the crowd, Pippin tilted his head back and pealed out a laugh that was loud and long.”
--A paraphrase of lines from The Song of Roland.

xi. “It’s Fern, as was Furryfoot when I did my workin’ out at the Great Smials,”
--’Bert’s sister; from “Blanketed in Love.”

xii. “hobbits to try their skill at striking a very large mallet in an attempt to raise the wooden block he had placed between two poles high enough to strike the bell at the top.”
--Seen on the carnival midway at the Minnesota State Fair.

xiii. “The canning jar ring left her fingers and landed over the neck of one of the bottles arranged in the booth.
--I won a two-liter bottle of pop at the ring toss game one year at my community’s annual Fall Festival.” (Unfortunately, the idea of letting the bottles be the prizes bacfired after they had sat outside in the heat all day, and exploded before I could get it home.)


xiv. “I declare you, uh, Pork Mistress of 1427!” he stammered as he placed a floral wreath on the tweenager’s head. He repeated the action for the Beef Mistress,
--*Both* the county Pork Queen and Beef Queen were in my high school graduating class. I feel so proud.

xv. “Mama bought me a bunch of blue ribbons,”... “Aye, to tie up your bonny brown hair,”
--From the song “Johnny’s So Long at the Fair.”

9) Chapter Nine: Facets
i. Chapter title
--A facet is “the flat surface cut into a gem, or naturally occurring in a gem crystal.” (Diamonds and Precious Stones)

ii. in the process of scooping cucumbers and cream
--A favorite summer recipe of mine:
Peel and slice 2 large cucumbers into rings.
Slice an onion into rings.
Combine in a bowl.
Combine 3/4 cup sour cream, 3 tablespoons cider vinegar, 2 tablespoons sugar and salt and pepper to taste, and pour over cucumbers.

iii. the Bramble Bush
--A rough translation/reference to the locale of Ronceveau in Song of Roland.

iv. “and a serving of barley with caramelized mushrooms and onions,”
--Farmer’s Market Cookbook again.

v. “Remember,” Ganelon added, his eyes carefully fixed upon neither face, “a mighty family stands behind you.”
--Partly a reference to The Song of Roland.

10) Chapter Ten: Clarity
i. Chapter title
--Clarity is one of the qualities of a diamond.

ii. “‘Well, if she’s going to call me a piglet,”
--Shameless self-promotion for “What Child is This?”

iii. “Mistress Rose turned back to the counter and began to tear a large cabbage into smaller chunks, then picked up the knife and began to peel and slice the apples.”
--Rosie is making Creamy Apple Slaw in this chapter:
Stir together 1 tablespoon white vinegar, 1 teaspoon sugar, 2 teaspoons lemon juice, 1/4 teaspoon prepared mustard and a dash of salt. Stir in 3/4 cup sour cream. Cover and chill. When ready to serve, toss 3 cups shredded cabbage, 2 cups cubed apples, 1/4 cup grated carrot and 3 tablespoons chopped celery together. Add dressing and toss.

iv. “Lavender’s green, Diddle diddle,
Lavender’s blue.
--The “long” version of this nursery rhyme is ”Diddle, Diddle, Or, The Kind Country Lovers,” British broadside, ca. 1672-1685, found quoted and sourced in The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes edited by Iona and Peter Opie, Oxford University Press, 1997.

v. “you could start by calling him ‘Pippin’ as near to everyone else does!”
--For the curious: I have been married nearly 7 years. I can count on one hand the number of times DH has called me by my name. (He usually calls me “Sweetie.”;) )

vi. “the final bit of peel gave way and the ribbon of skin fell into the pan of water with a plop. Both hobbitesses glanced down to watch it uncurl into its final shape.”
--That would be the shape of a “P,” since there is a tradition/superstition that if you manage to get one continuous peel off an apple, and then drop it into cold water, it will unfurl into the initial of your future lover/spouse. (http://www.whitedragon.org.uk/articles/apple.htm and other sources)


vii. “Young Sir Pippin he built a fine hall...”
--Traditional nursery rhyme, adapted. From The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes.

viii. “what she had at first taken to be an additional outcropping on one of the rocks...the gleaming dark of the turtle’s shell glistened as it slid into the water.”
--As seen on walks around Minnesota lakes.

ix. “After they had gathered the marbles...They formed the outline of a star.”
--A Shire version of “Chinese checkers.”

x. “Adamantine packed the hamper with all sorts of delicacies, as she knew the place Rufus had proposed for their picnic along the Shirebourne was a favorite trysting spot.”
--Perhaps not so coincidentally, “adamant” is a legendary hard stone, believed by some to have been “found” with the discovery of the diamond.

11) Chapter Eleven: Cut
i. chapter title
--”Cut” is one of the qualities of a diamond.

ii. “Pippin’s “short list” of hobbits whose invitation to dine he did not wish to accept...Reginard Took.”
--Shameless self-promotion of “Blanketed in Love” for the explanation of this.

iii. the Grub ‘n Grog in Tuckborough
--Named after a real-life pub; the proprietor was a friend of my father. The actual name was “Gary’s Grub and Grog.”

iv. “’Tis apple bark steeped for a tea,”...to reduce your fever.”
--http://www.whitedragon.org.uk/articles/apple.htm; and http://www.herbcraft.org/apple.html

v. “The both of them had striven mightily to be loyal to the Tooks...‘twas now too late for happiness to arrive.”
--Paraphrase from Song of Roland.

12) Chapter Twelve: Lozenge
i. chapter title
--”Lozenge” is a type of cut of a diamond. It is also a form of pill used to suck on to soothe a sore throat--some of which have been created with marshmallows.

ii. “My father sent me here with a staff,...”
--An adaptation of “Buff says buff to all his men”, found in The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes and sourced there from Games and Songs of American Children by William James Newell, 1893; an adaptation of a verse game found in The Popular Rhymes of Scotland by Robert Chambers, 1826.

iii. “The next game...two cubes -- one marked on three sides with a P and on the other three with a T; the other cube labeled 1, 2, 3, and 4 on four of its sides and A (standing for “all” ) on its two remaining ones.”
--The game of “Put and Take,” from The Cokesbury Game Book by A.M. Depew, Whitmore & Smith, 1939.

iv. “Doggedly approaching the marshmallow from his end of the string...”
--The marshmallow game played in this chapter came from a section of a party games web site on kissing games. I have been unable to find the web site again to source it. Marsh Mallows themselves are an actual plant with a long history; they have historically been used for medicinal purposes and as food(the Romans counted them as one of their servings a day of vegetables!). (http://botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/m/mallow07.html) The sweet candy-type marshmallows we eat today don’t actually contain any of the plant, but can be “homemade”; I found a recipe in The Household Searchlight Cookbook, Household Searchlight Magazine, 1935.

13) Chapter Thirteen: River Diggings
i. chapter title
--River Diggings was the name of the camp which grew up around the first diamond field in Africa, in the age of modern gem mining. (Diamonds and Precious Stones)

ii. “When I was a wee lad...”
--Adaptation of a traditional nursery rhyme from Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes.

iii. “You know, don’t you, that among you, me and Sam, there’s no way I’d want to let either of you down?”
--Paraphrase from Song of Roland.

iv. “Pippin’s deeds in the War were just as great, and as valorous, as you seem to think my own...And for such blows, Aragorn’s love was our reward,”
----Paraphrase from Song of Roland.

v. “apply the arnica to Pippin’s swollen ankle.”
--Use suggested by Medicinal Plants Coloring Book.

vi. “a sachet she had made and filled with dried lavender, rose petals, chamomile and hops.”
--”Herbal Dream Pillow” to promote sleep, from 50 Simple Ways to Pamper Yourself by Stephanie Tourles, Storey Books, 1999.

14) Chapter Fourteen: A Girl’s Best Friend
i. chapter title
--from the song title, “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” Lyrics by Leo Robin, music by Jule Styne; song forom the musical and movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

ii. “That every marriage is a mystery, except to the two who are in it.”
--Tried to source this quote -- thank you to the Hennepin County “ask a librarian” reference desk who tried to track it down -- but failed. The librarian suggested attributing it to “common wisdom.”

15) Chapter 15: Lapidarium
i. chapter title
--A lapidarium was a medieval gemology/medicinal book, which listed the properties of stones and the ailments they were supposed to treat. The particular one that helped inspire this chapter is quoted at: http://www.ceu.hu/medstud/manual/SRM/symbol.htm

ii. “you would have seen so many in great pain. So many dead...would meet each foe with such prodigious blows, the dead would pile up behind him as he goes.”
--The battle descriptions in this chapter draw heavily on adaptations of lines from Song of Roland.

iii. “they care nothing for hauberk or for helm. There are no soldiers more savage in the realm!”
--Song of Roland references

iv. “And -- and their cause was evil, and we were in the right,” Only a fool, with such a host, despairs!”
--Song of Roland reference

v. “I shall guard you safe from every dream.”
--One of the “virtues and properties of the stone of Diamond” attributed to the gemstone in Raymond Lull’s late medieval lapidarium, at the site above. (How can a PippinAngst lover possibly resist *that* opportunity?)

16) Chapter 16: Anniversary Band
i. chapter title
--An ”anniversary band” is a style of diamond ring.

ii. “Yes! Yes, she is old enough for everything!”
--Part of the reason it took a year for, ahem, certain activities to occur in Pippin and Diamond’s bedroom in this story is that it has always bugged me that Diamond was underage when they got married. And Pippin, of course, is a perfect gentlehobbit.

iii. “the corners of the invitation: diamonds embossed in silver.”
--According to Lull’s lapidarium, a diamond should be worn encased in silver to achieve its full benefit. Luckily, Gondor chose the colors of its black and silver uniforms well to accommodate this.;)

iv. “Fredegar Bolger...“Where’s the pie?” ..“You cannot have a party without pie!”
--Self-promotional reference to my young-Pippin and young-Freddy story “Something in Common.”


v. “now they’ve got to make the best of things...“Even if it were an uphill climb.”
--Sam insisted upon quoting the lyrics to the “Gilligan’s Island” closing theme in this chapter. (“So this is the tale of our castaways,/they're here for a long long time./They'll have to make the best of things,/it's an uphill climb.”) Words and music by Sherwood Schwartz.

vi. “Pinabel!” ...‘Twas a nickname”
--’Twas also the name of a relative of the traitor Ganelon in Song of Roland.

vii. “delicate green leaf..it had germinated among the seeds in the portrait”
--Heavy-handed and obvious literal symbolism for the “fruition” of Diamond and Pippin’s love from the seeds that have been planted.

17) Chapter 17: Mining Deep

No author’s notes for this chapter. (Except to note that, interestingly, it has been read significantly more times on SOA than the chapters surrounding it. :) )

18) Chapter Eighteen: Canteen Rush
i. chapter title
--The name for the second wave of prospectors to South Africa’s diamond mines; similar to the “Gold Rush” in American history. (Diamonds and Precious Stones)

19) Chapter 19: Occlusion
i. chapter title
--An occlusion is something that fits together -- or that blocks the passage of something else.

ii. “Their saddles taken off...“they’ll cool off as they should.”...”Men who are weary may lie on the ground and sleep. For on this night, they’ll need no watch to keep.”
--Song of Roland references; seemed fitting that Rohirric soldier Merry would get to quote the lines about the horses.

iii. “Who is it, Argine?...“I am Rachael, wife to Ogier,...“Though he is the king of my heart.”
--Playing with the names: In a deck of cards, the name of the queen of diamonds is Rachael. Argine is the name of the queen of clubs, while Ogier is the knave (jack) of spades and also --Ogier the Dane -- the name of one of the 12 paladins in the Italian list. The king of hearts in a deck of cards is named Charlmagne. (From a “Did You Know?” column by Erin Barrett and Jack Mingo, published in Minneapolis Star Tribune, Aug. 20, 2003)

iv. “I used to pretend that Gandalf was my Grandda.”
--Inspired by Billy Boyd’s commentary on the Extended Edition DVD of Fellowship of the Ring about mourning Gandalf as a grandfather.

20) Chapter Twenty: Flawed

i. “I used to use that same scent quite a bit when I was younger, and I gave it out for my birthday to Pervinca...”
--More plugging of/references to “Something in Common.”

ii. “Alas that I was born! I’ve lost my husband, Sir; I am left to shame!”
--Song of Roland reference.

21) Chapter Twenty-one: Eg’ Market
i. chapter title
--In the 1600s, when districts of Antwerp became specialized in cutting diamonds, the guild of diamond cutters met at the Eiermarkt, the egg market. (Diamonds and Precious Stones)

ii. “I asked the cook to serve braised coney for supper one night not too long ago.”
--An obscure way to say “the rabbit died”: a reference to an outdated form of pregnancy testing.

iii. that what it is other hobbitesses giggle at is pain, and burning
--If the Shire (in particular, the North Farthing) had modern medicine, Honeysuckle really should have seen a gynecologist. I suspect she may vulvar vestibulitis. (http://obgyn.uihc.uiowa.edu/patinfo/Vulvar/vestibulitis.htm)

22) Chapter 22: The Hope
i. chapter title
--Reference to the Hope Diamond.

ii. “can boil the towels on that hearth there,” she nodded to it, “and Mistress Eglantine will be along in a moment with the oil,”
--The hobbitesses are using methods of childbirth preparation described by midwife Onnie Lee Logan in Motherwit: An Alabama Midwife’s Story (1989), excerpted in The Norton Book of Women’s Lives edited by Phyllis Rose, W.W. Norton & Company, 1993

iii. “The tenth of Solmath....“Shall I forget the feeling of being nearly cleaved in twain?”...“Mayhap we should call him ‘Cullenin.’”
-- Feb. 10, 1908, was the date of the cleaving of the Cullinan diamond, the largest colorless diamond ever found. (Diamonds and Precious Stones)

iv. “‘Tis a good thing Pad had thought of ‘Peregrin’ ...for the only names we had chosen were ‘Posy’ or ‘Petal’ “
--Reference to “What Child Is This?”

23) Chapter 23: Valley of Diamond’s
i. chapter title
--When I came across the story of the legend of the Valley of Diamonds in my research, with its connection to raptors -- which include, of course, peregrine falcons -- it was too good not to use in some way in this Peregrin and Diamond Took story. According to the legend, a fortune of diamonds lay at the bottom of a gorge, guarded by raptors and snakes. The kings’ servants sent to get the diamonds killed sheep and threw the meat down to the valley among the snakes. The raptors retrieved the meat, and the diamonds that stuck to it, as they flew out of the valley. (Diamonds and Precious Stones)

ii. “Whatever you may lose here today, at least I’m sure no wife or ‘lady friend’ will hear you boasting, safe in your lands again.”...“Your triumphs here will not be on parade.”
--Song of Roland

iii. “that she had not known of Pippin’s preference for the white blossoms when she tended her garden plots...The reddish-pink variety were more showy, it was true, but also more common”
--Diamond is picking white valerian, a flower which blooms from early summer to late autumn. (Heirloom Gardens by Mimi Luebbermann, Chronicle Books, 1997). The reason she planted red valerian in her garden is for the plant’s use in treating insomnia. (Medicinal Plants Coloring Book)

iv. “This patch of love-in-a-mist”
--Chosen here for the name of the plant (since this is a love story). Heirloom Gardens also mentions that post-Victorian gardeners like William Robinson and Gertrude Jekyll, cultivating the “wild” look, would grow valerian and love-in-a-mist in clumps.

v. “The adder...her skin glistening black...her fangs ...these sharp points of venom...her belly slithering from within as a triangular head with its dark brown pattern of zigzag emerged”
--If you’re going to do a take-off on the Valley of Diamonds story, you need poisonous (or at least dangerous) snakes. The only poisonous snake native to England, according to Wikipedia, is the adder (aka the viper). Fortunately, this snake is creepy enough to make a really good story. The fangs carry the poison; it gives birth to live young rather than laying eggs; the mother will often do so from a perch in a bush. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crossed_Viper)
They come in different colors, but the “black adder” reference in this story is to the British TV show.

vi. “the new young adder...fangs more venomous still than the adult’s”
--Wikipedia says that it is an outdated belief that newly born adders are more poisonous than their parents, but it makes for a much better story.

vii. “letting her Peregrin carry her aloft as, upon the back of the pony, they flew from the deep bottom of the valley.”
--Supposed to be reminiscent of the raptors carrying the diamonds out of the Valley of Diamonds.

viii. “And better that she should sacrifice her head, than that we lose our pride, and live as beggars, with all our rights denied!”
--Song of Roland

24) Chapter 24: Syndicate
i. chapter title
--The Central Selling Organization, or “The Syndicate”, as it is known to diamond cutters, currently controls 70 to 75 percent of the world’s production of uncut gems. (Diamonds and Precious Stones) (Also used here in the sense of the definition of the word as “an association of people formed to carry out an enterprise.”)

ii. “If she’s to find a new tween to train up, it’d be this next comin’ Rethe, already,”
--The tweens “working out” at the Smials renew or leave their posts regularly at the first of Rethe (March) in my universe because many of them are from families who rent their farms. According to my grandmother, who also grew up in a family who rented rather than owned the farms they worked, March 1 was moving day to go to the new place.

iii. “a copse of trees where his sister Pervinca had accidentally pelted him with a stone when he was a child,”
--from “Blanketed in Love”

iv. “’Tis one too proud, will recklessly advise. Let’s heed no fools” -- she hardened her voice still further upon the word -- “and keep to what is wise.”
--Song of Roland

v. “I hear your foolishness and pride...“you are brave. You’re tall and strong; your” -- he blushed a slight pink tinge -- “body is well-built. that you are valiant is known to all your peers.”
--Song of Roland

vi. “Wretched, abandoned, what is my destiny?” she asked bitterly. “If you were kind, you’d make an end to me!”
--Song of Roland

vii. “the quick-slapping hands of a much younger Pervinca as she had flipped wooden wafers with him in a game”
--A version of Tiddly Winks

25) Chapter 25: Carbon
i. chapter title
--Carbon is the chemical element a diamond is composed of. This also references the “carbon copy” term of making a duplicate of something.

ii. “lacing the thread now in x’s across his middle fingers.”
--Pippin is playing Cat’s Cradle.

iii. “fiefdoms and land, as much as you desire,”...“That’s more than I require.”
--Song of Roland

iv. “to name him Gerier.”
--A name of one of the 12 paladins from the French list; mentioned with Gerin in Song of Roland.

v. “These tensions must only last as long,” he whispered, “as neither one admits that he is wrong.”
--Song of Roland

26) Chapter 26: In the Rough
i. chapter title
--From the saying “a diamond in the rough.”

ii. “He -- he was fine -- even Sam said how healthy he seemed for a hobbit of his age,” Merry sobbed, not noticing Pippin’s slight tensing,”
--Anyone remember that episode of “ThirtySomething” where you find out that, even though Nancy’s been so sick from ovarian cancer, she’s not gonna die -- but Gary gets killed in an accident on the way to the hospital? Yeah. That’s the way it goes, sometimes.

iii. “your household needs you, now. Speed to its defense. You’ve heard enough how the horn laments.”
--Song of Roland

iv. “Da birf’day!”
--Thanks to my young nieces (currently 5 and 2) for being cute and adorable -- and providing me with inspiration for young hobbit speech patterns.

v. “No day will dawn,” she whispered as the soil fell from her hands, “that I don’t mourn and weep.”
--Song of Roland

27) Chapter 27: “Are Forever...”
i. chapter title
--From the hugely successful advertising slogan, “A diamond is forever,” created by Harry Oppenheimer of the De Beers company, in conjunction with the Ayer advertising agency, in 1947. (Diamonds and Precious Stones)

ii. “the event of this Highday”
--This wedding takes place on 23 Halimath, the day after the 22nd. That’s why Merry’s not in Buckland, and why Pippin, Sam and Merry were busy the day before, remembering the birthday. (Pippin isn’t currently traveling much beyond Tuckborough, due to the events of later in the chapter.)

iii. “Mighty fine container of ale,”...“’Twas a gift come from Tooksank,”
--From Trefoil and Whit Cooper, of course, since Whit has connections to the family trade of barrelmaking (i.e., “coopering”).

iv. “if visiting cousins can be invited.”...“Now, that’s not all I am, Mr. Merry,...Sam said”
--But he is Sage Goodchild’s cousin, on his mother’s side. That’s how Rosie knew to recommend her as a kitchen lass when Diamond wrote in Chapter 12.

v. “’Heel to Heel’!”
--From “Marie’s Wedding,” traditional Irish song. The tune I’m hearing is arranged by Van Morrison and Paddy Moloney, on the “Irish Heartbeat” CD.

vi. ““Da’s little Pudding.”...“Her name,”...“is Petal.”
--From the discussion of Pippin’s childhood name choices, and Paladin’s and Eglantine’s at his birth, in Chapter 22.

vii. “Oh, once I took a wife;”
--Loosely based upon “Last Week I Took a Wife” or “The Cobbler’s Song” from “The 40 Thieves”; words and music by M. Kelly; found in Best-Loved Songs of the American People. (I knew as soon as Diamond liked Pippin’s song for Nellie in Chapter 5 that he needed to write her her own love song, but trying to come up with this is part of what took so long for this last chapter.)

viii. “For giving counsel, defending what is right,” she whispered as he took her hand, “in all the world, there is no better knight.”
--Song of Roland
ix. “Therefore shall a hobbit leave his father and his mother, and cleeve unto his wife.”
--Paraphrase of Genesis 2:24. It was actually somewhere in the middle of the story, as I was having fun with the diamond stuff, that I was flipping through Bartlett’s Quotations to see if I could work in anything else with the long “cleave/cleeve,” that I ran across the reminder of this quote. It seemed the