Chapter Six - Falling Short

It was a quarter past five when Pervinca finally caught her father alone in his office after his last appointment of the day.

“Come in, Pervinca,” Paladin looked up and saw his youngest daughter enter his study. He knew what she was there for and guiltily put his attention back to the document he was reading.

Pervinca was in good cheer as she traipsed around her father’s office, picking up small trinkets and then putting them back down as she made her way towards his desk. She stopped at a collection of ceramic ponies and gave a sidelong glance at her father. “Have you seen him?”

Paladin did not look up. “Seen whom?”

“You know…him.”

Paladin absently scratched at his head, “Him who? I’ve seen several ‘hims’ today.”

“Father,” Pervinca walked over to the sofa, gathered her skirts and sat down. She bore a conspirator’s smile, saying, “You know of whom I speak! I want to know if Mirto came here today.”

Paladin had long given up trying to read the document in his hand. He let out a long breath as he set the document back on top of the pile of papers. “He was here,” he confessed, “and now he is gone.”

“Gone?” Pervinca was confused, “Did he not ask you a very important question?”

“He did,” he said. He rose up, collected his wits and went over to the sofa, sitting down next to her. “Now he is gone; ran out, I’m afraid. I made a terrible mistake, Sweet Pea.”

Pervinca had a dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach. “What did you say to him?”

Paladin gave an account of his antics from earlier in the afternoon. He kept looking at his daughter for a response, but she only had a blank expression on her face. When he finished, she laid back against the sofa in misery.

“What have I done?” she finally answered. “Why me? First, I am insulted by my brother last night, and today my own father chases away my first escort.”

Paladin replied with a note of sadness, “I don’t know what to say…I don’t know what came over me. Please believe me when I say I want nothing but to see you happy, Pervinca, yet I have failed miserably at it today. I am sorry.”

They both sat without speaking for a long time. “Father,” she whispered, wiping away an errant tear, “I’m not little anymore. I’m in my tweens now. I would like to someday fall in love with a dashing young hobbit and get married. Is that so bad?” She saw the pained expression on her father’s face and at once understood why he reacted to Mirto the way he did. She drew close to him and put her head on his shoulder. “I am not a little girl, father, but I will always be your little girl.”

Paladin wiped away his own tear. “I’m sorry, Sweet Pea. I promise to start behaving like a proper father from now on.”

Paladin felt the arms of his forgiving daughter around him as she answered, “You already do.”

~ ~ ~

Meanwhile, in another part of the Smial, Pippin was knocking on Merry’s door; this is where they agreed to meet for their afternoon pony ride. The old Pippin would have marched right in without Merry’s acknowledgement, but this was the new Pippin knocking this time, and so he waited. He could hear a muffled discussion going on inside between Merry and what seemed to be his cousin, Merimas. Pippin knocked again. Soon he could hear Merry’s voice approaching the door, then it swung open.

“Hull--,” Merry seemed irritated with the young Took. “Pippin! I was talking with Merimas. Why didn’t you just walk in--like you always do?”

“That would be impolite,” answered Pippin. Merry gave him an odd look as he went back to his conversation with Merimas.

“As I was saying, Merimas,” Merry sat down in the chair next to the desk and continued, “we came on this holiday so you could get away from your study books. Come riding with us. What you need is a good whiff of fresh air.” Merry glanced at Pippin, “Tell him, Pip. He’s decided that his books cannot wait even one hour for him to relax and take a ride around the Hills.”

“What you need is a good whiff of fresh air,” Pippin repeated his cousin’s words. “Lay aside your books and come with us.” He put his arm around the shoulder of the tween and added, “that is, if you wish.”

“I wish not to,” Merimas was quite blunt in his answer.

Pippin turned to his cousin, “He doesn’t wish to, Mer.”

Merry gaped at his younger cousin. “That isn’t what you tell me! I was counting on you telling him what you always say to me or Frodo when we’re being obstinate.”

Merimas turned to the teenager, “and what would that be, Pippin?”

But Pippin was silent; he was not as familiar with Merimas as he was with his cousin, Merry. If he were to say the things that he used to, he was quite certain that he would offend Merimas.

After a moment Merimas grinned at Merry, “Sounds like good advice to me, Pip.” With that, he turned around in his chair and opened a book that he had brought in with him.

“Pippin!” Merry was growing irritated. “What is wrong with you? You always call me a stubborn, pig-headed Brandybuck before dragging me off to goodness knows where.”

Pippin merely shrugged. “Nothing is wrong with me, Merry; this is the new me,” he explained. “I am being very polite; this way I won’t offend anybody.”

“Since when?”

“Since my father and I spoke about my insulting behavior yesterday.”

“I don’t think that he meant for you to take things so literally, Pip.”

“Literal or not, I gave him my word that I would not say anything hurtful anymore.” When it came to his sister Pimpernel though, Pippin found he still had to bite his tongue a little.

Merry sat down in a chair gazing dumbfounded at his closest friend. “Why did you do that? There is nothing wrong with a simple jest, Pippin, it’s only when you go to the very limits as you did with Pervinca.” He shook his head sadly, “Don’t change, Pippin.”

“I thought you would be happy with the improvement.”

“Happy?” Merry said, “Improvement? If you’ve ‘improved’ as you say you have, then you’re no longer the same person as before--which means you’ve changed. You haven’t grown; you’ve conformed. I liked you for who you were. Didn’t that account for something?” Merry got up and walked out of the room, muttering, “I’ve had enough of this madness, I’ll go riding by myself!”

~ ~ ~

The wind felt good against Merry’s face as it rushed past his skin. Kicking the pony into a full gallop, he filled his lungs with the summer air that carried a warm fragrance of the wild flowers that were strewn along the bridle path. For a little while, he would put the madness of the last couple of days in the back of his mind. Just as the path was heading into a grove of elm trees he heard a shout far behind him. He brought the pony back into a trot then turned round in the saddle; it was Pippin. Merry was still fuming over his recent conversation with his young cousin but his heart told him to walk the pony until Pippin, riding upon his own pony, could catch up.

“Merry!” Pippin called, chasing after his cousin. He could see Merry was heading straight for the trees where the path forked to the left. Pippin wanted to speak with his friend, but once inside and under the boughs of the trees, Merry would not be able to hear him call out. Luckily, Pippin saw that Merry had slowed down his pony; that was a good sign.

Merry could hear his cousin approaching from behind; he listened as the soft thunder of galloping hooves hit turf. He heard it slow down to a canter as Pippin caught up with him. As Pippin came alongside him, Merry dismounted, took the reins of his pony, and then walked the bridle path.

“Merry, wait!” Pippin shouted to his cousin, now just several yards away. He, too, dismounted then led his pony as he walked up along with his cousin. “You shouldn’t be riding alone; you tell me that all the time.”

Merry marched ahead silently, gazing at the trees and flowers in the meadow. In addition to sorting out his feelings, he also was regretting the terse exchange of words with the teen back at the Smials. “Do you always listen to me?”

“Well…,” The teen hesitated, “yes. I always listen to you. Is there something wrong with that?”

“I suppose not,” Merry answered, “but were you listening back in my room?”

“I heard you, but I can’t say that I agree with you.” Pippin felt the cool breeze blowing under the shade of the trees as they entered the grove. “I’m not ‘conforming’, as you say,” he looked at Merry, who still would not look in his direction. “I’m merely trying to use serious reasoning with or without jests.”

“But that’s the problem, Pippin,” Merry countered, “there have been no jests. These past couple of days you’ve been speaking nice words; grim words that sound nice to you, yet sound artificial to the listener.”

“Artificial?”

“You know…forced,” explained Merry. “As in, you don’t really mean what you’re saying.”

Pippin sighed. “I do most of the time, don’t I? I mean, I tried to sound sincere when I spoke to Merimas, but…,” he trailed off.

“I know you gave your word to your dad, Pip,” Merry said, “but if you remember, you also gave your word to me; that you’d help me get Merimas away from his books.”

Pippin grimaced at the recollection. He threw out his hands in frustration, “What do I do, Mer? If I say one thing, it’s an insult to another, yet if I don’t say the insult, then I’m offending someone else.”

“You only offend someone when you take your jesting to a personal level.”

Pippin sighed; looking far off into the trees at nothing in particular. He felt as if he were being torn in two. “Which is why I’ve made my pledge to my father--so I don‘t make the mistake of doing it again. I’m sorry if you don’t like the way I am now, Merry.” Pippin lifted himself into his saddle making his way back towards the Smials.

Merry watched him go, allowing his cousin to be with his own thoughts for now. He would follow after Pippin in a few minutes. Then he saw his young cousin was riding heedless towards a low branch in the trees. Merry tried to warn him, “Pippin!” He looked on in horror as Pippin was swept out of the saddle, landing on the ground with a sickening thud. Running to his side, he saw Pippin was unconscious; his cheeks were wet from tears streaking down his cheeks.