Chapter Forty Four - Alone in the Dark

Pippin let Rosebud splash the water with her wooden spoon for another minute or so before lathering the wash cloth. He always enjoyed his daughter’s bath time near the warm hearth, which at all times had a fire in it to help keep the chill out of the apartment. He laughed as Rosebud squealed with glee at the sight of water drops rising into the air around her--and most of them landing on him. Pippin was getting soaked. He listened as she babbled…barely catching “Buh”, in her words which usually indicated she was talking about herself, “Rose-bud”. Lately, Pippin began recognizing a bit more of “Ba-ba”, which was the equivalent to Papa, “Meh-mi” was Uncle Merry, and “Pi-ma” was Auntie Pimpernel. That was the extent of labels for her closest, favorite people. Pippin understood her inflections and gestures more than the actual words. They sometimes helped him to know if she was asking a question or demanding something. He was getting the hang of it though. Like this morning at breakfast, she pointed to his glass saying, “Muh!” wanting a sip of his milk.

One of her favorite words--though not so new, was ‘no’. Later, after breakfast, when Pippin tried to feed her the aniseed tea, she vigorously shook her head, telling him ‘no’. No matter how sweetly he spoke to her, she shook her head. In the end, she repeatedly turned her head in every direction except the cup of tea. This worried Pippin greatly; Rosebud needed her medicine, how else now was he to coax her to drink the tea? He puzzled on this whenever time allowed. He’d have to ask Merimas what to do - later at the birthday party for Rosebud.

Pippin put his hand in the bathwater to check the temperature. It had grown tepid. He called out to his cousin sitting in the “office” alcove nearby. “Merry, could you please bring more hot water for Rosebud’s bath?”

Merry put down the piece of charcoal in his hand, “Sure.”

As his dear friend poured hot water from the steaming copper, Pippin kept his hand inside the tub to make certain the water didn’t get too hot for the baby. He noticed Merry glancing at his and Rosebud’s faces in a strange way. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” came Merry’s casual reply, “I’m pouring hot water into your daughter’s bath.”

Pippin smiled, “You’re not writing a letter to Stella--you’re drawing another portrait of Rosebud!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise, you ninny hammer,” Merry retorted. Well…at least half of it should still be a surprise, he thought to himself. Truth of the matter was that he had already finished his love letter to his betrothed--who was staying with her mother in Budgeford for a couple weeks. Hanging the copper on its hook near the fire, Merry went back to the desk with a fresh picture of his subjects in his mind’s eye.

“I suppose it wouldn’t take long at all to write a bunch of X’s and a few O’s across the paper,” Pippin teased his cousin. He felt a wadded ball of paper deflect off his head.

Merry grinned impishly, “There were a few words I wrote.”

“I love you, Stella,” Pippin sang in a jesting manner. Another paper ball whizzed past him.

Rosebud pointed towards the paper balls on the mat in a demanding gesture. It was an obvious one for the young father. “After your bath, Muffin,” he replied firmly. “We can’t keep you forever in the water.”

“There! That’s the final touch,” said Pippin, leaning back just a bit to observe his handiwork. Over the past few months, as Rosebud’s hair grew long enough, Pippin became quite adept at putting frills in her hair. Today, for her birthday, he tied a red ribbon to a thin sprig of auburn curls on top of her head. Her dress was a pale pink with a pink satin sash to match. To Pippin, she looked every bit to be his very own wee faerie princess. “Your loyal subjects are out in the garden waiting for you, m’ lady,” Pippin bowed low. The “princess-in-waiting” smiled at her papa, biting on her wooden sceptre. Pippin, the proud father - Ernil i Pheriannath, took her up in his arms. “I love you, Rosebud. Happy birthday,” he said, then kissed her cheek. Rosebud reciprocated the tender feelings by reaching up to squeeze his nose. “No kiss for papa?” he asked, feigning a sad voice. Rosebud leaned forward to touch her smiling lips to her papa’s cheek. Not a real kiss by a long mile, but it was more than enough for Pippin. He enveloped Rosebud in his arms, hugging her.

“Your carriage awaits,” Merry announced from the doorway - bowing as he played along, having caught the last bit between his cousin and niece. Her pram was set behind him.

“Wait--I need to put her royal robes on her,” said Pippin, wrapping his daughter in a thick, pink baby blanket. The weather was fair and sunny on this wonderful Thrimmidge morning, but a touch of coolness remained in the air.

In the north garden, where the rose bushes were known to be in bloom, a large pavilion was set up near the veranda. Open braziers cooked the food that the various Took relations, Broadhammers, and guests would dine on. Paladin held a feast for each of his grandchildren on their first birthday, but no one blamed him if he went out a little more for Rosebud.

Resounding cheers met the threesome as they rounded the last bend of shrubs to greet the families. “Happy birthday, Rosebud!” they shouted in unison. Rosebud was quiet, sucking on her finger. She became a bit anxious as her father wheeled her into the waiting crowd containing unfamiliar hobbits. Well…most were unfamiliar. Inside her pram, she turned round to make sure papa was still there. Pippin gave her a huge smile--now she smiled. As long as Pippin was in view, she would be all right.

After the sumptuous dinner was finished, Pippin sat Rosebud in her high chair at the head of the table, her cousins sitting on either side of her. It was time for cake.

“Is everyone ready for cake and presents?” Paladin asked his grandchildren. He laughed, putting his hands to his ears as when they shouted all at once in their high, shrill voices. Wee lads and lasses devoured sweet cakes and plenty of other tasty treats in Rosebud’s honor. Hilly, Brody, and Rosebud were the slowest of the eaters, filling their mouths with a handful of cake and then taking five minutes to chew and swallow.

The birthday lass sat with an empty plate in front of her; cake crumbs in both hands, around her mouth, all over her pink dress, and in her hair. Tackling cake is a huge task for a wee child. She rubbed her weary eyes with her crumb-laden fists, about to drop off into faeryland. “Is my Muffin tired already?” Pippin asked her as he cleaned her up. He then lifted her into his arms, limp as a rag doll, sucking her thumb. A contented Rosebud lay her head upon her papa’s shoulder, too tired to make “conversation” as she usually would. Pippin grabbed the blanket from her chair, seeing this was about to become another naptime.

Pippin cradled Rosebud in his lap as she dozed while he himself sat talking with the adults at the head table. She had been resting for almost a half-hour when she suddenly began to cough, drawing out the congestion in her chest. This deeply concerned Merimas, who was sitting nearby with Pervinca busy cleaning up their own fauntling. “Is this the same cough she had back in Solmath?” he asked.

“Well…I guess so,” answered Pippin, although Merimas’ question unnerved him a little bit. “It never went away…and she got sick again last month.”

Merimas nodded, taking in everything Pippin was telling him about Rosebud’s illnesses. “When was the last time Donnabelle examined Rosebud?”

“Two weeks ago,” Pippin replied. “Her cough hadn’t gone away, and so I asked her to look at the baby again.” Merimas made no reply, making Pippin feel even more uneasy. “Why do you ask?”

“I was merely inquiring,” Merimas said, curious about Rosebud’s cough, but not wanting to agitate the tween. He’d ask further about her later.

Little did Merimas realize that his “inquiry” had the opposite affect--however, Pippin didn’t want to ruin his daughter’s birthday party with a healer examining her. Pippin recalled that it was Merimas who had examined his late wife, Lilas, and found her deathly ill. Pippin wasn’t so sure he wanted to know if Rosebud was sick yet again, but he resolved to corner Merimas later after the party and question him. “Very well,” he replied to Merimas, “for now.”

“Pip?”

Pippin turned in his seat towards Pervinca, who addressing him. She grinned and asked, “Do you share like mother taught us?”

Baffled by his sister’s question, he answered, “Of course I do--why?”

“Then hand my niece over, if you please!” Pervinca said, giving Brody to his father.

Pippin held Rosebud protectively--she had stopped coughing and was occupied with her cousins. “I’ll have you know that I indeed share my daughter…sometimes.”

Pervinca laughed, “No, you don’t--not even sometimes! Every time I come to visit I have to use a crowbar to pry her out of your arms. You look as though you could use a rest, so why not just give her to me?”

Listening to the repartee, Merry came to his friend’s defense. “That isn’t true--Pippin allows other people to hold Rosebud.”

“You stay out of it, cousin,” Pimpernel jumped in. “You’re just as bad as he is!” Merry’s jaw slackened then clamped shut at the jesting insult.

“I’ll settle this,” Pearl announced. She rose up from her seat and walked over to Pippin. “May I?”

The dumbfounded expression on Pippin’s face made his other sisters giggle. Pervinca felt justified, “See? You refuse to give her up!”

Pearl shot a look over to her sister to stifle any further remarks that might hinder the progress. “Please?” she asked kindly. “I rarely get to see--or hold--my nieces and nephews.”

Pippin looked at Pearl--he could only remember a few times in his life when he told his eldest sister, ‘no’. He wanted to this time, but she was giving him that look--the one where her eyebrows would lift up in a pleading manner, her hazel eyes beseeching him. Reluctantly he let Rosebud loose as Pearl smiled in triumph, tenderly taking the babe out of his arms. Instantly, Pimpernel and Pervinca were at her side cosseting Rosebud.

Perhaps his wife was right about parental fatigue; Merimas couldn‘t tell who had separation anxiety the worse--Rosebud or her father. He said, “Why don’t we lads walk over to that bench yonder and have a smoke? I have a feeling the hens are going to start cackling in any minute.”

Pervinca paused in her coddling, “You’re going to regret your remark later, Merimas Brandybuck!”

Merimas smirked in reply, “Will I?” Pervinca caught the twinkle in her husband’s eye and returned his smile. Pippin looked at Merry, both rolling their eyes.

“Why are you rolling your eyes, cousin?” Merimas spoke to Merry on their way to the bench. “Soon, you and Miss Estella will be married.”

“Not until midsummer,” Merry sighed. “Right now, she’s with her mum in Budgeford planning the whole affair.”

“You’re not happy about that?” asked Pippin, walking beside Merry.

“Of course I am,” he answered, “but I miss her terribly.”

Pippin grinned, “She’s only been gone a few days, Merry.”

Merimas smiled at his cousin, “For young hobbits in love, a few days is a lifetime, isn’t it?”

Much later, after the wee ones were ushered off to bed, Rosebud lay asleep in her Grandma Tina’s lap. Eglantine relished every bit of time she had with her newest granddaughter - it was highly unusual that Rosebud was away from her father’s arms for this long. The small babe put up a little fuss when she grew tired, but Eglantine had experience with this sort of thing--however long ago it was. Fussing was naught that a little bit of rocking and a soothing lullaby couldn’t cure.

Meanwhile, after they lit their pipes, Pippin’s little smoking party at the garden bench increased when a few more cousins showed up. Eglantine let her hazel eyes wander over to the group of lads talking and jesting amongst themselves. Her own son sat in the center of the group, yet she observed that he wasn’t participating much in the conversation. He looked as if he was missing something. He slumped against the bench with his arms crossed over his chest to occupy their need to hold Rosebud. Tina had learned that her grown daughters had coaxed tweenaged Pippin into taking time out with the lads, sending him off with his cousin Merry. She also spied sitting at his feet was a glass filled halfway with a dark liquid. Eglantine was none too happy about that. Her daughters were correct in that Pippin needed to relax, however, Eglantine felt there were other ways to do this.

Eglantine occupied herself with gazing at the patches of various flowers in bloom inside the well-tended garden--the roses in particular. Situated near the veranda was a red rose bush, planted for Rosebud a year ago. Underneath was a clay placard with Rosebud’s name and birthday engraved in it. It was now early evening--and as it wasn’t yet summer, it was also getting cool now that the sun had set. Pretty soon Pippin would return to take his daughter inside. In her mind, Eglantine debated with herself what she would do should Pippin be inebriated. She sighed in response to her decision, wrapping the extra blanket snug around her granddaughter, giving the wee babe in her arms a gentle, loving squeeze.

“Let’s go, Merry,” said Pippin, nudging his friend then standing up. He swayed a bit, reaching out to his dear cousin.

“Are you all right?” Merry asked, taking hold of Pippin’s arm, becoming concerned.

Pippin wiped a bit of perspiration from his forehead, “I’m not feeling so good.”

Thinking it was more of a runny nose or sore throat, Merry thought it was no good to be sick and then give it to the baby. He put his hand to Pippin’s brow; no fever. “What’s wrong, Pip?”

“I think…I think…” Pippin held tight onto Merry.

“He thinks he drank too much port!” snickered one of the lads.

Everard looked at Pippin, “Gracious me, you barely drank one glass. When was the last time you drank anything stronger than your daughter’s apple juice?” Everard expertly blew smoke rings towards a small branch sticking out from a shrub. He nailed it with two of them.

“It’s been a long time,” Merry answered for his friend. “He’s not had anything strong since before Lilas passed on.” Merry stood up just a tad too quickly, grabbing onto Pippin’s shoulder, trying to make it appear that it was Pippin he was holding up.

Everard caught Merry’s stealth. He knew Merry was as dry as the young Took standing next to him; Merry wouldn’t go out drinking without his closest friend beside him, nor would it be the other way around. “That’ll do it,” he said, feeling a bit on the jolly side himself this evening. “When was the last time you drank a glass of wine--or beer, for that matter, Merry?”

“I’m fine,” Merry replied, straightening his waistcoat while evading Everard’s question. Merry fretted over his young cousin, “It’s my fault, Pippin - I should have watched you closer.”

Pippin waved his arm at nothing in the air, “No, Mer. I shouldn’t have listened to…to….”

“Pervinca,” Merry helped Pippin finish the sentence.

“Yes--her.”

Merry put his arm around Pippin’s waist, guiding him back towards the veranda. “We need to get you in bed, cousin,” he said.

“Wait!” Pippin fairly shouted, grimacing at the loudness of his voice. He put his finger to his lips. “Shhh!” He then leaned in to Merry, “What about Rosebud?”

“You can’t care for her in your condition--I’ll watch over her tonight.”

“Excellent!” he answered, then thought about it a little more. “No--you can’t! You’re not doing so great, either.”

“At least I can stand on my own!”

With a quick, albeit jerky movement, Pippin stepped away from his cousin. Merry slipped behind Pippin, dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Merry leaned onto his elbows, shouting in a whisper, “Are you mad? Your mother is looking in our direction!”

Pippin shot a worried glance over to the veranda; sure enough. Then Pippin became furious with himself--not because his mother saw him, but because of whom he saw in her arms. Would he dare hold Rosebud in his own arms now? He regretted ever accepting the glass of port. How could he be so foolish? With a petulant groan, Pippin bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

Baffled at first, however, Merry followed where his cousin’s eyes had been fixed. He fell onto back in disgust of his thoughtless action. “I’m sorry, Pip.”

“You’ll wake me up at dawn, Father?” asked Pippin with a heartfelt plea, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He and Merry were each shown to his own bed by Paladin and Merimas while listening to one of Paladin’s lectures the entire way from the garden. Rosebud was sleeping with her grandparents this night - the first night of Pippin and Rosebud not being in the same room together.

Once Pippin was dressed for the night, Paladin made sure his son got in bed safely. He could never stay angry with his son for long. The elder Took gave his lad a faint smile, “I will.” Presently, Paladin sat on the edge of the bed “tucking” in his tweenaged son. It had been a long time since he had done this--and probably the last, so he savored the moment.

“Promise?”

“Pippin,” Paladin drew the blanket up to his son’s chin, “my granddaughter is completely safe in my apartment. Could you say the same if she was in this apartment right now?” It was a rhetorical question, yet Paladin paused for effect. “If you or Merry had planned a night of drinking with the lads, ensuring that Rosebud was looked after beforehand, then your mother and I wouldn’t be vexed.” Paladin sighed, “You’re still a lad, Pippin, and you’re also a young father who needs a little help every now and then. Never hesitate to ask when you need it, all right?” Seeing the remorse in the tween’s eyes, Paladin withheld further lecturing. He leaned down and kissed Pippin’s forehead. “Goodnight, Pip. I love you.”

Pippin was suddenly filled with alarm, “Did I kiss--”

“Yes, you said goodnight to Rosebud and kissed her right before coming in here.”

With a great sigh, Pippin eased back upon his pillow, feeling a bit dizzy. “Oy…,” he put his hand to his head, “I think I’m going to have a bad headache.”

“Merimas left something on the table for treating that in the morning.” Paladin turned down the lantern and quietly left the room.

Alone in the dark…all alone. Pippin tossed and turned in his bed as his body protested sleep--for lack of Rosebud. Sleep eluded him for a little while…until he succumbed to the relaxing effects of the liquor.

TBC