A/N: So sorry for not posting last week--it’s been hectic with the house. Please cross your fingers (pray) for Nov. 12^th. (The closing date for the sale.) Thank you for your patience!

Chapter Forty Two - Happy Yule

“Shh!” Pippin whispered, holding his finger to his mouth as he cautioned the infant. “This is a very important meeting, Muffin! There shall be no screaming, crying, talking, tantrums, or worst of all--laughing.” Rosebud looked at her father as he spoke solemnly. It was all gibberish to her, but as long as she was with papa, she was fine with whatever he was saying. Rosebud smiled at him, placing her wooden teething spoon up to her drooling mouth. “All right,” said Pippin, giving his daughter a kiss, “smiling is allowed.”

“Da!” Rosebud put her spoon up to her papa’s lips--surely he would want to share!

Pippin gently pushed the spoon away as they entered the Thain’s office. The drone of about twenty five voices filled his ears as he quietly slipped past his Uncle Adelard to sit in the chair in front of him--second from the last row. Pippin wanted to “blend” into the crowd--however, that would be near impossible with him being the only Took in the room holding a baby.

“Peregrin,” Paladin sighed, calling out to his son as he took his place behind his desk. “Were you not going to leave Rosebud with her auntie or grandmother?”

“Paladin, you old fool,” a grey-haired Adelard cackled from behind the young father. “The baby is fine where she’s at!” Sitting next to Adelard was cousin Fiodrin, who lived in Michel Delving; he assented with a nod.

“You know the rules, Pippin,” Paladin charged his son. “If she interrupts at all…”

“I know,” Pippin answered, timidly looking around at the stares he was receiving from other, less indulgent Tooks.

With that said, Paladin began the annual family meeting. It was held at this time every year to coincide with Yule--the time of year when most Tooks living abroad would return to the Smials for a brief visit; celebrating the Yuletide with a feast while keeping up with news of the various relations.

Things went smoothly for about…five minutes. Pippin heard the spoon drop to the mat on the floor. He bent over to pick it up, wiped it off on his shirt then gave it back to Rosebud. A few seconds later he heard it drop again. He repeated the process several times, picking it up, giving it to the baby. Rosebud was enthralled with this new game! I drop spoon, papa picks it up for me. The next time Pippin felt her lean over his arm to drop it yet again. He watched her purposely let it go, watching it fall to the mat. She looked back at him, clapping her hands together in pure delight.

“Rosebud!” Pippin whispered.

From where he stood speaking to the group, Paladin hesitated a moment, then went on, choosing to ignore the wee outburst. He could see Rosebud and knew exactly what she was doing--he’d been through the “drop & pick up” stage four times. He knew he’d be able to enjoy his granddaughter’s stage a little later, so he continued with the meeting.

Rosebud sat quietly in her papa’s lap gnawing her spoon for a while then grew bored watching the backs of chairs--she wanted to see what papa was seeing. “Uhhh,” she whimpered, arms and spoon held upwards.

Pippin could feel impatient eyes boring into him as he tended to his daughter. He quickly held Rosebud up against his shoulder to quiet her. “Shhh,” he whispered into her little pointed ear. He thought she was merely enjoying the sights behind them from her new vantage point, but then she started squirming in his arm. Pippin held her securely as she began to squirm more and more--he could feel Rosebud’s spoon-arm waving behind his head. Pippin cringed when he heard a wee bit of baby laughter… then whack! He turned in his chair, rubbing the back of his head--and just quick enough to catch Adelard and Fiodrin making smiley faces at Rosebud then abruptly straighten up in their seats as if they were innocent the whole time. Keeping a wary eye on the elder Tooks, Pippin turned back round in his seat, taking the spoon out of the baby’s hand, which Rosebud did not like at all.

“Aiiyy!” she shouted her protest, then began to cry…loudly.

Paladin stopped speaking, “Peregrin…I’m sorry.” All eyes turned towards the Thain’s son, who blushed with embarrassment from the fur on his feet all the way to the tips of his own pointy ears.

Minutes later, Pippin had Rosebud in his arms, walking into his apartment. “You realize that you got me kicked out of the most important meeting of the year, don’t you?” Pippin asked, though he knew she didn’t understand a word he spoke.

And the truth was…she didn’t. He did sound grouchy though--perhaps all he needed was to bite on her spoon and all would be better. Rosebud offered her spoon up to her papa again.

“I don’t want your spoon, Rosebud,” said Pippin, though a bit more firmly than he wanted. You ninny! She’s just a baby!, he scolded himself.

Too late. Rosebud’s bottom lip stuck out, tears welling in her eyes. Pippin sat down in the chair in front of the fireplace, holding her close to him, tenderly rubbing her curly head and back. “I’m so sorry, Rosebud,” Pippin spoke softly, his own eyes tearful with remorse. He cradled her in his arms, kissing her tears away. “It seems papa needs a nap--does my little Muffin need one, too?” Without really waiting for a reply, Pippin carried Rosebud over to the bed, laying her atop the blanket on the far side--next to the wall, then lay down on the bed to hem her in.

Rosebud had woke up once or twice crying in the night the week before; his solution was to have the bed pushed up against the wall in order to allow the baby to sleep along side him. His wardrobe and bureau also surrounded the bed. She seemed to like this arrangement and hadn’t woke up crying in the night since.

Before settling down himself, Pippin took away the huge pillow from above Rosebud’s head then covered the baby with her own blanket and a lap quilt. He covered himself with a spare blanket. Rosebud knew this was nap time for her, so she made no fuss as papa got in bed with her. She lay on her tummy sucking her thumb while papa leaned in to kiss her. “Sweet dreams, Rosebud--I love you.”

Propped in the corner, sitting between the headboard and wall was the rag doll that Lilas loved--and now belonged to Rosebud. He lay his daughter’s wooden spoon within her sight next to her then lay himself down to sleep, making a mental note to get a new spoon. Her wee teeth had gouged into the handle, which would eventually splinter the wood, making it unsafe for her to teethe on. She was currently on her third spoon. Pippin kept a handy supply in his bureau to swap while she was asleep.

Hours later, Pippin’s awareness rose to the surface as he heard coughing; it was Rosebud again. He expected it, but nothing truly prepares a young parent for a sick babe. He expected it in the way of her having been born pre-term, yet it took a toll on him just as well. His mother kept telling him this is how he was as a pre-term babe. A few days previous, Rosebud had yet another chest cold--which left Pippin still recovering from his own fatigue.

Pippin picked up the little baby, holding her up to his shoulder to help her catch her breath and let loose the thick phlegm in her chest. He wrapped her snug in his warm blanket then carried her over to the chair in front of the fireplace. They had been spending a lot of time there of late. During the winter months, in front of the hearth was warmest place in any apartment in the Smials. And there they sat together for a few minutes, allowing Rosebud to slowly awaken. Her coughing subsided the warmer her little body got.

Since becoming a widowed father, Pippin had learned how to hold a baby and work deftly with one arm or hand. On the table next to the chair, he uncorked a small bottle of aniseed, pouring a bit into a cup. He briefly rose up from the chair, taking the tea kettle from the hearth to pour into the same cup. He measured it only halfway so he could fill the rest with cool water. He next opened the honey jar, scooping two teaspoonfuls for the concoction. Pippin tested the warm tea mixture to ensure it wasn’t too hot. It was just right. On days--or nights--that her cough was too much, Pippin would break up some leaves of a special herb and boil them in water then set the kettle on the bedside table, filling the bedroom with the steamy aroma.

When she finished with her aniseed tea, Pippin showered her with kisses and tickled her chin to make her laugh. Rosebud had an infectious laugh; Pippin couldn’t help but laugh along with his daughter. “Are you hungry, Rosebud? It’s almost time for tea.” He turned towards the door, hearing it open. “Oh, look, Muffin--it’s the love-birds!”

Rosebud squealed with delight at seeing her Uncle Merry--her third favorite person in the world, coming after Auntie Pimpernel--for obvious reasons.

“Are you coming to tea, you loafer?” Merry teased back, sweeping Rosebud up into his arms.

Pippin grinned, “Don’t call my daughter a loafer!”

“I’m talking to you, my dear slacker,” answered Merry, then gave his undivided attention to his niece. “How’s my little Rosebud?”

“Hello, Pippin,” Estella smiled, greeting her cousin. “Are we still on for exchanging presents, then?”

Pippin sat back in his chair watching the couple amuse themselves with his daughter. “I have yet to wrap my gifts, but yes we are.”

“I wrapped yours long ago--right along with Rosebud’s,” said Merry with a wink. He was hoping little hints dropped here and there would perk up his young cousin just a bit more. “I got them in Bree!” he winked again.

Pippin indeed had brightened up this past month; was time truly a healer? Pippin seemed to be happier these days, getting back on his feet, so to speak. Merry felt comfortable with Pippin’s recent good humor, and as a result, finally got up the nerve to ask Estella for her hand in marriage. He was taking her home to Brandy Hall tomorrow morning to give the good news to his folks, accompanied by Fredegar--Estella’s brother, who had healed up nicely from his suffering last year in the lock-holes. “I’m going to miss her,” Merry spoke softly.

“Rosebud will miss you, too, but you’ll be back,” said Pippin. With an impish gleam in his eye, he added, “What you and Stella need to do is hurry up and get married so you can have your own daughter.”

Merry went red to the tips of his ears at Pippin’s remark. “Are you coming to tea or not?” he asked.

Later after tea, back in the apartment, three grown hobbits and a wee baby sat on the floor near the hearth with boxes set before them.

“That one is Uncle Merry’s, Rosebud,” said Pippin, taking one of the pretty boxes out of her reach. “We’ll open our presents first.”

“Ba!” Rosebud replied, pointing at the pretty box no longer in her grasp.

“This one is yours,” Merry announced, setting another box in front of the baby. “It’s from me and Stella.” In seconds, Rosebud had yanked at the bright yellow bow--untying the ribbon and had one end of it in her mouth.

“She’d be happy with just the ribbon,” laughed Estella.

“Trust me,” Merry put in, “I didn’t go all the way to Bree for a yellow ribbon.”

Pippin took the ribbon out Rosebud’s mouth then helped his wee daughter along with opening the box. “Merry!” Pippin exclaimed, “It’s….beautiful!” Rosebud’s first Yule gift was a finely crafted music box made of mithril. Pippin opened the decorative lid to find the inside was adorned with red velvet material. Upon the red velvet rested a small silver key used to wind up the music box.

“Well, she can’t really play with it now,” said Merry, “but at least she can enjoy the lovely music.” He showed Pippin where the keyhole was on the box.

Pippin turned the key a few times then listened to the tune for a moment. “It’s a lullaby,” Pippin smiled, starting to sing along with the music. Rosebud thought it was time for bed--she leaned back in her papa’s lap, sucking her thumb. “No, Muffin!” Pippin laughed, “if you sleep now, I’ll never get you to sleep later on--music box or not.”

“I’m glad she likes it,” said Merry.

Pippin lifted the baby up, handing her over to Merry, “She wants to thank you and Stella.”

Merry quickly took Rosebud into his arms, smothering her with kisses as she giggled her delight--basking in everyone’s attention. In the midst of her giggles she began to cough again. Merry immediately closed Rosebud’s blanket around her. He sighed, “She’s still coughing.”

“The poor lass,” Estella stroked Rosebud’s wispy curls as Merry held the babe.

Pippin responded, “Well, the worst of it is over--or so it seems. I gave Rosebud the medicine cousin Donnabelle told me to give her.”

“At least she’s not feverish,” Merry said, putting his hand to her forehead. “Maybe I shouldn’t leave for Buckland just yet.”

“Don’t you dare, Meriadoc!” Pippin shook a finger at his friend. “We’ll get on fine. Besides, in the past year, Aunt Essie and Uncle Sara have been left out of a wedding, missed a birth--and now is threatened to miss their only son’s betrothal announcement? Not while I draw breath!”

Still holding Rosebud, Merry reached one-handed behind Estella. He smiled as he held out another wrapped gift; this one was a leaf of paper rolled up like parchment and tied with a green ribbon. “This one is for you, Pippin--from me. Happy Yule.”

Pippin carefully took the gift from his cousin, unravelled the green ribbon then gently pulled as the edges came apart. “Merry!” Pippin drew in quick breath of pure wonder. Merry had the incredible talent of being able to draw just about anything with a little shaving of charcoal. Pippin gaped at the portrait of his baby daughter. “I don’t know what to say!”

“A mere ‘thank you’ would be appropriate,” Merry jested. “Until a few days ago, I never realized how difficult it was to get a seven-month-old to be still.” He leaned down to kiss his favorite niece, “It was soooo hard for you, wasn’t it?”

“She’ll be eight-months in a week,” Pippin reminded his roommate. “She was actually still for you?”

“For all of three seconds,” said Estella, who was an accomplice in the deal. “But I kept her busy with Lilas’ rag doll. She loves that dear old toy.”

Pippin smiled, recalling the sweet, open lass who was his wife--for a while. Sad memories took him back to the nursery--a few days before Rosebud was born. Lilas had made Pippin kiss the rag doll in effigy; making him promise to tell their baby how much he loved him/her every night before bed. Pippin’s thoughts came back to the present, replying to Estella, “Yes, she does. I was going to wait and give it to her on her first birthday, but as it is, she won’t go to bed without it. I don’t have the heart to hide it from her.”

Rosebud’s attention was on biting her wooden spoon as Merry held her face next to his. “How can you hide anything from this sweet little lass?” he said, then kissed her cheek.

Rosebud lifted the spoon to Merry’s lips, “Baba!”, then dropped it. “Deh,” she said, watching it tumble off her uncle to the floor.

Pippin chuckled, “It’s not hard at all when she continually drops whatever she has to the floor just to watch you pick it up.”

“Before you know it, Pip, she’ll be picking things up from the floor herself,” said Estella. “Babies grow up so fast.”

Pippin sighed at the prospect of his baby daughter growing up. “But she’ll always be my little lass.”

Several days later, on 2 Yule, Pippin woke up with anticipation of the new year; no more mourning or sadness as during the previous year. He stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking about what lay ahead in the approaching months. Pippin turned his head towards the babe lying next to him in the bed, though her face was looking in the other direction. Throughout the night, Rosebud had inched closer and closer towards her papa; drawn by the warmth of his body. Just like your momma, he said to himself. He listened to her soft breaths for a minute then saw the corner of her eyelashes flutter. “Are you awake, Rosebud?” asked Pippin.

With a twist and a wriggle, Rosebud turned towards her father, looking up at him with bright green eyes. Pippin smiled at his beautiful daughter, “Good morning, Miss Took!” Rubbing the faerie sand from her eyes, Rosebud returned her papa’s smile. Then Pippin whispered, “Happy Yule!” Suddenly he remembered about the snow last night…

With the enthusiasm of a child, Pippin threw off his blankets, running towards the bedroom window to see if the new year was blessed. It was an old tale passed down from generation to generation of children that the Shire would be bountiful in the coming year if a new snow covered the ground the morning of 2 Yule. It was an ancient tale, and only believed by the very young until older, more “wiser” children came along to bestow their knowledge to the younger ones--but even as a tween, Pippin couldn’t help but feel the excitement in the air.

Halfway to the window, Pippin skidded to a stop, nearly forgetting about his own child still lying upon the bed. He dashed back to the bed to wrap her in a blanket, taking her to the window with him. There was snow! It wasn’t enough to cover every bit of the ground, but it was enough to declare that good things were going to happen in the Shire--in his life. One good thing he knew had already happened in his life was Rosebud. He couldn’t imagine his life before his sweet baby daughter arrived. In fact, if it wasn’t for her, he would have went to pieces after Lilas passed away late last spring.

“Look, Rosebud!” he pointed to the white flakes still falling outside the window, “Snow!”

“Eh,” Rosebud responded, but instead of looking at the snow, she was more intrigued with squeezing her father’s nose.

“No, Muffin,” Pippin laughed, “I said snow, not nose!”

Pippin washed Rosebud’s face and hands, changed her, then took her out to the sitting room to set her in her cot. He and Merry moved it out of the nursery for when they had to have their hands free for other tasks. It was situated near the hearth--since that’s where the cousins and Rosebud spent most of their time. Pippin stirred the burning embers with the poker then put more logs on the grate. Soon, the room was feeling very warm again. “All right, Miss Took,” he stood next to her cot, “It’s my turn to wash up now, then I’ll take you to Auntie Pim.”

Back in the bedroom, as Pippin filled the wash basin with water he heard Rosebud begin to cry. She had been doing this for a two weeks now; crying whenever he left the room, though Pippin didn’t understand why. He went back to the cot to soothe his daughter. “I’m only going to be a few minutes, love. I’ll be back.”

Pippin had plunged his hands into the cold water and had splashed his face when he heard Rosebud start to cry again. She didn’t sound injured or like she needed more sleep, but…she sounded needy. “I’ll be right--” he stopped. Oh, what’s the use, he said to himself, walking out to the cot again. Rosebud was still crying when her arms went up in the air. “Come here, Muffin,” Pippin lifted her up, speaking softly to her. “Papa’s right here.” He walked her around the apartment in his arms for a few minutes until her crying subsided, though he continued to wonder at her unrest.

At breakfast, Pippin blurted the question that had been burning on his mind since appeasing his daughter back in the apartment--when he scooted the cot into his bedroom so that he could finish washing. He spooned a bit of porridge into Rosebud’s mouth, asking, “Am I spoiling her?”

Pippin’s question took the grown-ups by surprise. Paladin looked around the table, “Hmm?”

“What do you mean by ‘spoiling’, son?” asked Eglantine.

He went into the morning’s adventure in washing for breakfast--and how Rosebud’s temperament had been building up to the present.

“You’re not spoiling her,” Pimpernel reassured him.

“She’s an eight month old baby, Pip,” said Eglantine. “She too young to be spoiled by you holding her.”

“It seems to me that Rosebud is at the separation age,” Paladin put in his advice.

“Separation age?” Pippin puzzled at their answers. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon--and neither is she.” Why were his parents and sister laughing?

“What father means, is that there is an invisible cord between you and Rosebud,” Pimpernel explained. “She feels safe when you’re holding her, or where she can see you.”

“But isn’t constantly holding her going to spoil her?” asked Pippin.

“No, son,” replied Eglantine, then added with a grin, “after all, you turned out just fine, didn’t you?”

Pippin understood his mother was saying that he was the same way as a baby. “I guess so,” he answered, looking at his sister for any sibling objections. Time to change the subject before she had a chance to.

“Did you see outside this morning, father?” Pippin asked excitedly.

“Yes, I did,” said Paladin, seeing the green sparkle in his son’s eyes. “It looks absolutely beautiful out there.”

Pippin smiled, “This is going to be a good year!”

“It is, indeed,” Paladin smiled.

“When are we going to get to open our presents?” Gelly asked.

“Never, if you don’t stop asking,” said Pimpernel, wiping dried sausage gravy from her son’s mouth. Then smiled, “After breakfast--we’re going to grandma and grandpa’s apartment.”

Later, in Paladin and Eglantine’s sitting room, sat five young Tooks near hearth playing with new Yule gifts. Gelly received a spinning top, Tilby got a ring-toss peg with four colourful rings, and Hilly got a dozen toy blocks to stack. Rosebud sat on a thick quilt near her papa, holding onto him with one hand while examining her gift with the other. Rosebud’s wooden blocks were a bit larger than Hilly’s and hollowed out for nesting inside one another. Needless to say, Rosebud had to taste-test all the gifts. At eighteen months, Hilly thought that was a great idea, so he helped out his younger cousin.

The biggest surprise of all was when the Broadhammers arrived that afternoon--weathering the snow to bring their granddaughter her Yule gift all the way from Hobbiton. Silas had handcrafted three other faunt-sized tea-chairs to go with the one he gave Rosebud when she was born--and a wee tea table of the same size to match.

Much later in Pippin’s apartment, an exhausted little lass finally fell asleep in her grandma Lilly’s lap. And what a day she had! As long as papa was nearby, Rosebud was content. Pippin said his goodbyes to the Lilly, Silas, and their family, bidding them to stay the night in the Smials. Once everyone had left, Pippin took his sleeping babe into the bedroom, putting her down on the far side of the bed, laying her momma’s rag doll close by. He smiled; she looked so innocent and beautiful. “Good night, Rosebud--I love you,” he whispered, tenderly kissing her auburn curls. “Happy Yule.”

- TBC