A/N¹ : I’m easing up on the tissues…for now.

Chapter Forty One - Pippin’s Day Out

Merry did move in with his cousin--lending a hand with Rosebud and generally helping his young cousin readjust to life. After seeing first-hand how the War affected the young tween, Merry knew that there would always be something lingering in Pippin’s heart that would remind him of Lilas. Pippin seemed to find comfort in the presence of his cousin, and Merry found solace in talking to Pippin about the dark nightmares that still plagued him--and Pippin.

Pippin spent most of the summer indoors, not yet ready to be social. Summer eventually gave way to the harvest season. Merry and Pimpernel were finally able to talk the young Took into attending the Harvest Fair. Pippin made the effort, but ended up going home after a few hours. He seemed to be answering the same questions over and over and over. “Yes, I’m doing fine, thank you,” he would answer one well-meaning relative, then turn around and speak it again to another. Pippin eventually tired of the inquiries. His excuse was that Rosebud was hungry and needed a nap, but it wasn’t too far from the truth. Pimpernel was at home caring for a four-year-old Tilby who had a tummy ache--having eaten too many sweets at the same fair the day before.

Today, it was the Autumn Festival. Once again, Pippin let his sister and cousin talk him into attending another social gathering. The event of the season, folks from all over the Westfarthing brought their best pastries and stews to the festival in celebration of the harvest’s abundant yield.

Pippin filled his lungs full of fresh air tinged with dried leaves, hot apple cider, and smoke from the open braziers. He and Merry ambled down the middle of two rows of large pavilions deciding which one to enter.

“Which shall it be?” said Merry, indicating to the tents on either side of them. Inside each tent were tables laden with pies, cakes, and a multitude of hobbits eager to consume the sweet fare.

Pippin’s eyes widened, licking his lips at the various selection of desserts laid out under each pavilion. “That one,” he answered his cousin.

“What made you choose this one?” Merry held open the flap of the tent so Pippin could easily push the pram inside the entryway.

“I saw a table full of lasses inside the other one,” said Pippin.

“Are you avoiding them?”

“Not really, Merry,” replied Pippin. “I’m just not…” He sighed, “all right, I suppose I am.”

Merry smiled, “Its all right to steer clear of them for a while yet--just don’t avoid them forever.”

Pippin purposely ignored his cousin’s remark. He didn’t feel ready to socialize with the lasses yet. In fact, Pippin was hesitant to allow himself to fall in love. What if the same thing that happened to Lilas happened again? Settling himself into a chair, Pippin took Rosebud out of her pram. For now, she was the center of his life; she depended on him for everything. Well--nearly everything. He wrapped her close in her blankets to ward off the chill air then made sure her bonnet was snug. He looked at her, half jesting, “Now behave yourself, young lady. We can’t have any of your food antics out here.”

Rosebud looked up at her papa with her big, green eyes as if to say, whatever do you mean? She laughed as he tickled her side then kissed her forehead.

“I’m going to having one of Pimpernel’s tarts,” said Merry. “She makes the best custard tarts--but don’t tell her I said that,” he cautioned, “or she’ll never let me live it down.”

“I won’t tell her--though it may cost you,” Pippin smirked.

“Cost me what?” asked Merry, grinning in response. He crossed his arms over his chest as he straightened to his full four-foot-six inches of height.

In times past, Pippin would see his cousin’s gesture as a playful dare and react accordingly. Today though, he went back to fussing about his daughter, answering in a meek voice, “Your friendship.” Pippin didn’t have the heart to exact a “fee” from his cousin--even if he was only jesting. Merry was one of the few hobbits who had helped him through his recent loss.

Merry’s impish grin turned into a genuine smile. He bent down, planting a tender kiss on top his cousin’s unruly curls, “You’ve always had that. Now what sort of tart--or pie--do you want?”

“I don’t think I shall have a tart or a slice of pie this time. I believe I have a taste for that honey cake.” Pippin pointed towards the desired dainty.

“An excellent choice,” Merry said, then left to purchase the wanted items.

“Again?” Pippin asked, feeling Rosebud grab at his hand to bite on his finger. It was something she was doing more and more lately. Pimpernel had told him the baby was showing signs of teething. At five and a half months, Pippin thought Rosebud was a bit young for teeth. When he checked the inside of her mouth, all he saw was red inflammation at the front on her lower gum. “My poor little lass,” he cuddled her close when she started to whimper. “There you go,” he said, giving her his finger to gnaw again. He turned to see his sister enter the pavilion.

“Oy! My feet are killing me!” Pimpernel plopped down into the chair next to her brother. Tilby followed his brother, whom she sent to fetch a plate of desserts for the three of them. She warned the boys, “Gel, watch your brother--and don’t let him even touch the dessert table!”

“What’s the matter, Pim?” asked Pippin, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not wanting to spend another night with a tummy ache?”

Pimpernel played with the little auburn curls sticking out from under Rosebud’s bonnet. “He’s going to have one anyway--he’s already eaten too much. Besides, little brother--you’ll get yours someday.”

“Where’s Hilly?”

“With mother and father--they’re strolling him in his pram. You know--the proud grandparents.” Pim smirked, “They’ll be searching for Rosebud soon.”

“Hullo, Pim,” Merry greeted his cousin, returning to the table with a custard tart and honey cake. “Can I get you anything before I sit down?”

“No thank you, Merry,” she answered. “Gelly went to get our plate. I see you spied my tarts,” she winked.

“He said your custard tarts are the best he’s ever tasted,” Pippin put in, then felt a kick under the table.

“Really?” There was an unmistakable gleam in her eye when she looked in her cousin’s direction. “Better than Estella’s?”

“Rosebud!” Pippin looked down to see his daughter had made a few craters in his slice of cake with her little fingers. She stuck the small chunks of cake in her mouth then drooled out what she didn’t want--all over the front of her dress. “You promised to behave yourself this time.” He took a cloth from the sack inside her pram, wiping her hands, face, and dress with it. “What am I going to do with you?”

This was the first time Pimpernel witnessed Rosebud’s…adventures in food tasting. “Pip? Have you been feeding her your food?”

“No--she simply takes it off my plate whether I want her to or not,” he said, then looked at his sister with deep concern. “She'll still nurse, right?”

“Uh--Pip.” Merry nudged his cousin next to him. While her papa’s attention was busy elsewhere, Rosebud had evidently decided her uncle’s tart looked enticing, too. A small hand print could be seen in part of the custard.

In spite of being caught in the very act, Rosebud focused on the task at hand--or on it. Her thin, wee eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as she ate the custard off her fingers. Then she held her hand up to Pippin as if to share her plunder. “Ay!” She smiled sweetly at her papa--just as her momma used to do. Pippin startled at the resemblance, then quickly recovered. He recalled how he could not resist a lovable smile from Lilas--nor could he do so nowadays from his beloved daughter. “You’re forgiven,” he said, kissing her head, then held on to her little arm as he attempted to wipe her sticky fingers. He explained to his sister, “She kept taking the green beans off my plate while Merry and I were eating our stew, but she didn’t eat them--she’d put one up to her mouth to taste it then drop it to the ground. Yesterday at supper she kept taking my roll.”

“Sounds like she’s just discovering what food is--what it feels like, what it tastes like. You shouldn’t give her everything she wants though. Keep your eye on her to make certain she doesn’t burn her hand on something hot, or eats something small enough that will make her choke. She still nurses, and will continue for some time yet, but as her teeth come in--and from the look of things, it isn’t too far off--you may want to give her something you know she’ll be able to chew and swallow. However,” she turned to look at Tilby trailing his brother as they approached the table, plate in hand. “I’d keep her away from the sweets for a while. When her first tooth comes in, try starting her on a bit of porridge.”

“She’s been taking food off our plates for almost a week,” Pippin admitted. “Merry and I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid you would see it as a sign that she didn’t want to nurse anymore.”

“No,” Pimpernel assured him. “Remember, I’ve been through this three times. In fact, she reminds me of another young hobbit, who had a voracious appetite as a babe--and still does!”

“Surely, you don’t mean me.” A faint smile was on Pippin’s lips.

“Yes, I mean you--and that half-Took cousin of ours, too.”

Undaunted by a baby’s handprint in his custard, Merry forked another bite into his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pimpernel took Rosebud to hold her for a bit--to allow her papa to eat in peace. “Has she been coughing at all today?”

“No,” Pippin replied, and very grateful that she hadn’t. “I’ve kept her warm and wrapped up all day, but I don’t want to keep her outdoors for too much longer. I think we’ll head for home right after tea--I don’t want to take any chances.”

“I agree,” said Pimpernel. She feared that Rosebud was about to take the same route in infancy that her papa did. “Why don’t you lads take in the other sights of the festival while I find a secluded corner in this tent and feed Rosebud?” This was a way to give Pippin a rest and ensure Rosebud kept warm in a chilly environment.

“I don’t see why not,” said Merry. “How ‘bout it, Pip? We could take the boys to watch the games.”

Pippin’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to nurse Rosebud--in the middle of this tent full of hobbits?”

Pimpernel sighed, “Pip, I’ve done it before in the Smials with Hilly--I use one of the baby blankets for privacy.”

“All right then. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt--and I do think my wee lass is ready for her afternoon meal--not to mention the cake and custard might go down better with a bit of…” Pippin blushed, realizing his near slip of the tongue.

Pimpernel still loved to tease her brother. “Oh, go on, Pippin--you can say it!”

Pippin turned three different shades of red again, “No, I won’t--come on, Gelly…Tilby. Let’s go watch the three-legged race.”

After the three-legged race, the lads ventured over to see what games the smaller children were playing. Pippin and Merry were laughing as they watched the lads play a variation of tag--where the person tagged had to keep his hand on the part of his body where he was last tagged until he tagged the next person. Poor Tilby ran around in circles with his hand on his head trying to tag someone--anyone. Pippin saw Gelly purposely slow down to let his little brother tag him. The lads walked a leisurely pace as they made their way back to the dessert pavilion. Just before they reached the tent, Pippin heard his name called out behind him.

“Hullo, Pippin!”

All four turned to see who the caller was. Pippin sighed; another lass wanting to “greet” him. He didn’t mind the ones who merely stopped him to say hello, but there were a few who he felt had…intentions.

“Hullo, Larrea,” he said in response.

Larrea stopped to catch her breath; no need to seem desperate. “Hullo, Pippin…Merry.” She ignored the little ones. Not too far from the tent, Merry took the rude cue, “Come along, lads--certain folk should be seen and not heard.” Larrea didn’t feel insulted; she thought Merry meant his last remark towards the children. Gelly knew better though--he knew exactly how both his uncles felt about children.

“Shall we walk for a bit?”

Pippin squinted in the afternoon sun, “Well, I suppose once around the pavilions, but I can’t walk for too long.”

“Oh, are you under the weather today?”

“No,” Pippin smiled, “I just need to get back to the Smials directly after tea.”

“I’m having tea with my friends. Would you care to join me?” Larrea made her first attempt. Her lass-friends would be green with envy if she brought the Thain’s son to tea--and being recently widowed, he was once again available--or so that was what she assumed.

“Thank you, but I cannot,” Pippin answered.

“Very well,” Larrea smiled, “then we’ll just talk…for now.”

Pippin nearly choked at her statement.

“Where is she at?”

“Whom do you mean?”

“Your daughter--Rosie.”

“Her name is Rosebud, not Rosie.”

Oops. “Sorry.” 

Pippin upped the pace just a tad as they rounded the first corner--the sooner this walk was over with the better. “She’s with my sister,” he responded to her question.

“I’m sure that was a hard decision. It’s for the best though.”

“Pardon me?” Pippin didn’t know if he gasped from the pace he was setting, or Larrea’s statement.

“You know--it’s easier to catch a new lass that way.”

“Really? I wouldn’t know because I’m not trying to ‘catch’ a new lass. I’m just trying to raise my daughter--who lives with me, by the way.”

Larrea looked in the opposite direction of Pippin, rolling her eyes. Details, details. What will it take for him to wake up and smell the buttermilk? In Larrea’s mind, Pippin ought to be grateful for any lass who would be willing to take on a ready-made family. And he’d better hurry up--the older the baby gets, the less of a chance he’d have. “Don’t you employ a nurse? That would leave you plenty of time to--I mean, time for yourself.”

Pippin once again hastened the pace after the second corner. “I have just one child, Larrea. How difficult should it be for me to spend my free time with my only daughter?”

“Well, I suppose it’s not my place to tell you how to raise your child,” answered Larrea, trying to recover from yet another blunder. “I plan on hiring at least one nurse when I have children.”

You mean you plan to marry someone who can afford more than one nurse for your children!, thought Pippin. Thank the stars it won’t be me. He was relieved to finally turn the last corner.

Larrea knew she lost out on the prize catch of the Shire. She stopped before Pippin could quicken their steps again. She let out a breath, wiping perspiration from her brow, “That was…invigorating.” Dare I ask?, she thought to herself. “Shall we do this again sometime?”

When I’m old and grey, Pippin said to himself. “We’ll see,” he answered aloud. “Perhaps after I hire a nurse.” His eyes took on a distant reflection as recalled the decision he and Lilas made over not employing a nurse for their baby. He bowed as a gentlehobbit, “Good day, Larrea.” He turned and walked towards the door of the pavilion. Pippin met up with Gelly as he approached the door--where Merry took over with the lads earlier and abandoned him to Larrea.

Pippin swept the child up into his arms. “What are you doing out here, Gel?”

“Uncle Merry said that you’d need res…cu…ing.”

“Rescuing?” he laughed, kissing Gelly’s cheek. “That word is almost as big as you! You’re a very thoughtful lad, Gelly.”

After tea, the extended family gathered up, walking towards the Thain’s carriage to head home. Along the way they stopped at the confectioner’s table to purchase toffee apples for the older children, but when Hilly saw his brothers getting one, he had to have one, too. Pimpernel shared an apple with Hilly, though she would eat most of it. Then Rosebud took up whining where Hilly left off. If her cousins got one, then where was hers? From her pram, she reached out for Gelly’s apple, nearly knocking it out of his grasp. Pippin took her and held her snug in his arms.

“You can’t have an apple, Rosebud. You’re too little to eat it--not to mention you don’t even have teeth.” Large tears ran down her cheeks as she cried at the injustice of not having her own apple. Pippin was nearly in tears as he cuddled her close.

“What took you so long?” Paladin asked Pippin as he entered the carriage. Rosebud was in her papa’s arms--smiling joyfully. In her fist she firmly held a small toffee apple as if it were her favorite toy.

“More lasses--but they wanted nothing to do with me,” Pippin replied. “They wanted to see Rosebud.”

Eglantine was shocked when she saw what her granddaughter held. “Pippin! You’re not going to let her have that, are you?”

He sat down between Merry and Pimpernel, “Well, I bought if for me, but I see no reason why I can’t let Rosebud think it’s hers for a while. When she begins to doze during the ride home, then it will inexplicably make its way into my hand.”

“You’ve always had a naughty streak, Pip,” Merry jested. “Taking a toffee apple from a baby!”

Pimpernel joined in the banter. “He’s going to end up like Tilby and be up all night with a tummy ache. You’ll end up with two babies to care for, mother--your own and his!”

“Will not,” said Pippin.

“Will!” answered Merry and Pimpernel in unison.

“Not!”

“Will!”

Listening to the repartee, Paladin eased himself back against the bench with his eyes closed, leaning his weary head on his wife’s shoulder. “I thought we were done raising our children, Tina.”

TBC

A/N² : I have to thank Connie for the “ready-made family” bit. It’s been niggling at the back of my mind ever since she made a comment about it in one of her more recent reviews. Thanks, Connie!