Chapter Forty - Starting Over

In the middle of the night, Pippin lay tossing and turning in his bed. His blankets twisted round him with every turn. At first, he thought he was too warm, so he opened the bedroom window, then shut it when the night noises put him on edge, keeping him awake even more. It had been well over a month since Lilas had passed away; Pippin figured he ought to be past the sleepless nights by now. He looked over the side of the bed at the infant sound asleep, nestled in her cradle. At least Rosebud was sleeping--she was finally starting to sleep through the night. The young tween gazed around the room as he lay in bed, his eyes resting on the wardrobe. Half of it still contained frocks and things that belonged to Lilas. He knew that there were also items out in the sitting room that had belonged to her. There needed to be some changes around here. Perhaps that would be the key to moving on with his life.

With a silent grumble, Pippin threw off the covers, getting up…for yet another night without sleep--or, at least, much of it. He walked over to the outer door and opened it up, removing the wreath that still hung upon it. Quietly, he shut the door then went over to the window sash, opening it long enough to fling it out into the dark void. He stood there for a moment, head down, feeling as if he had flung Lilas out the window instead of a wreath. The moment passed; when he looked up, his green eyes were still tired and worn, but they had a new resolve in them. Rosebud lost her momma--she couldn’t lose her papa, too.

An hour later, after searching the apartment for a box he could use, Pippin was rummaging through the wardrobe. He took out all of Lilas’ frocks--which weren’t many, and folded them neatly into the box. Next, he went over to her vanity, packing her mirror, hair combs and ribbons. He’d send the box to Hobbiton--to the Broadhammers. They could take of their daughter’s belongings that they wanted, then donate it to less fortunate hobbits.

Pippin had taken an early morning tea break when he heard Rosebud stirring in her cradle. He looked at the time; almost six o’clock. Had he been packing Lilas’ things for three hours? No, he thought, I’ve been sitting here at the table thinking for most of the time. Like many nights before this one, however, this night was different. This time he had a plan in his head. A plan to move forward; no more tears and no more pacing in the sitting room only to fall asleep at one of his father’s important meetings. Paladin insisted that his son stay away from his duties as the Thain’s assistant for a while, but Pippin argued that it was his duties that kept his mind occupied--that is, when he got a full night’s rest.

Pippin rose up out of his seat, shuffling towards the bedroom when the baby began to cry. “Papa’s coming, Rosebud.”

Rosebud stopped crying when she saw her papa bend down to pick her up out of that stifling cradle. She liked it when he snuggled her up to him, rocking her as he slowly walked. Her bottom lip stuck out to let him know things still weren’t quite where she wanted them.

“My little muffin is wet!” said Pippin, grabbing a clean nappy from the top of his bureau to change her. “As you are every single morning,” he added under his breath. He continued in a soft, singsong voice, “Did you have sweet dreams, love? You did? You must have because I can see the remains of faerie dust in your eyes.” Pippin tickled her chin with the corner of the baby blanket and was rewarded with the sweetest smile. He smiled back at her.

Rosebud loved to hear the voice of her papa--how he would talk to her and make her feel special. Feeling warm and dry, ready to greet the world, she gave him another smile. Pippin pulled her up to his shoulder, giving his daughter a soft hug then kissed her. “I love you, Rosebud.”

He carried her out to the sitting room to finish his tea before taking her to Pimpernel. “I’ll wager you’ll want breakfast--” Pippin was interrupted when he heard a knock on the door. “Now who could that be at this hour?” He drained his cup then went to answer the door. “Merry? Good morning.” Pippin thought Merry looked as haggard as he felt--and most assuredly looked as well. He sighed, “Dreams again?” Merry nodded as he stepped through the doorway.

“I just came to see if you were awake.” Though Merry knew his friend had had difficulties with sleeping of late.

“You want to talk?”

Merry shook his head, feeling that his cousin usually had to deal with his own troubled dreams, not to mention still mourning the loss of his wife.

“Well,” answered Pippin, “I should like to talk to you, if you don’t mind. I’ll only be a minute while I take Rosebud to her auntie for her morning meal.”

Merry waited in the sitting room of his cousin’s apartment, wondering what in Middle-earth Pippin would want to speak to him about so early in the day. He didn’t have long to worry; just as Pippin said, he was soon back inside the apartment--with his baby nephew in his arms and Gelly in tow.

“We sort of exchange children in the morning,” explained Pippin. “I usually get all three to accompany me to breakfast while Pim feeds Rosebud, but it seems Tilby got into his older brother’s paints when no one was looking. His nurse is still trying to get the stain off his hands,” said Pippin. Gelly sat dejectedly at his uncle’s table, glaring his displeasure at Tilby’s insolence.

“None of us seem to be doing too well this morning,” Merry said, observing the youngster. “Come on, Gel. You can ride me pig-a- back while we walk to your granddad’s dining room.” That seemed to appease the lad. “So what are you wanting to talk about?” he asked Pippin, hoisting Gelly onto his back.

“I’ve been thinking,” Pippin began, ironing out the plan as he spoke, though he didn’t know how his dearest friend would respond to it. “I…I need to get on--you know--move forward…without Lilas.” Merry listened, yet he said nothing in response as he walked beside Pippin. “I woke up during the night again, but this time it was different. I packed up Lilas’ things, Merry. I’m going to send them to her family in Hobbiton.” He looked at his cousin before continuing. “I can’t go forward until I change a few more things.”

“Like what?” Merry asked, adjusting his young “nephew” who was riding comfortably pig-a-back.

“Like…,” Pippin hesitated, “the nursery.”

Merry nearly choked. “Pippin, we just helped you to set it up for Rosebud.”

“I know that,” said Pippin, “and we--I appreciate it. But…”

“There are too many reminders?”

“Yes,” answered Pippin. “And I want you to move into it--that is, if you‘re willing.”

Merry stopped walking, gaping as his friend. “Pip--I can’t, I mean…that’s Rosebud’s room. I can’t take a room that belongs to a baby.”

“Yes, you can,” stated Pippin, holding a squirming Hilly in his arms while waiting for his cousin to catch up. “It’s just for a little while. Rosebud is already in with me--she’ll be sleeping in her cradle for some time yet. Admit it, cousin--you need this as much as I do, though for different reasons.”

The little group rounded a corner, passing by a hall table and mirror. Merry stopped to glance at the dark circles under his eyes. “For just a little while?”

“Just until you and I can manage on our own again--or until you and Stella are married.” Pippin grinned, then dispelled it, remembering Lilas’ prediction of the courtship. Lilas gave Merry six months ‘at the most’ before he proposed to Estella.

Merry gave Pippin a derisive look, “Let’s cross one bridge at a time, shall we?” But inwardly, he was glad that Pippin was beginning to heal. He sincerely wanted to be near his friend to help see him through the process of starting over.

“So, you’re saying ‘yes’?”

“I suppose I am,” Merry consented, once again shifting Gelly’s weight upon his back.

“Good! We’ll start right after breakfast.” Pippin felt a great heaviness lift from his shoulders. “Thank you.”