A/N: I just wanted to thank all the readers who have been reading and leaving kind reviews and words of encouragement since the very beginning of Roses, or, at least, for the majority of the time. Even a line dropped once or twice just to let me know you’re reading is more than I ever thought imaginable. Thank you.

In the past few weeks, I’ve received more than one hint from readers about how emotionally stressful it would be for them to continue reading, seeing the direction this particular storyline is going to go. I certainly would not want anyone to continue reading if this particular plot is going to bring about ugly nightmares for them. I, however, have to continue writing this story--not because I’m an ogre, but for my own personal reasons. I should have listened to Grey Wonderer’s advice: never get attached to your O.C.s. Too late. I’m attached to Rosebud--and I was attached to Lilas, too.

If you, the reader, decide to continue on, then I look forward to travelling this difficult road with a friendly companion. If you decide to stop right here, or after reading this particular chapter, then I thank you from the bottom of my heart for hanging in there this long. Take care.

Chapter Forty Six - No Promises

Merimas returned the water pitcher on the nightstand, handing his wife a glass of cool water. He let out a long breath before speaking. “You’re still experiencing nausea?”

Pervinca drank all of the water before replying to Merimas, “I am presently, but not all the time.”

“Your headache is gone?”

“Yes,” answered Pervinca, dabbing at her chin.

Merimas tried to repress a smile. “Then perhaps we ought to let the midwife have a look at you.”

The implication of her husband’s prognosis sunk into Pervinca’s head. She smiled from ear to ear. “Do you think so?”

Now also grinning, Merimas nodded, “Well, it’s my guess, but it’s quite plain to me.”

“I want a lass this time--someone to dress up and put pretty frills in her hair.”

“I’ll be satisfied with a healthy child, my love,” said Merimas.

“Oh, I will, too,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “but there are already two lads in our family. It’s time to balance the scale, dearest.” Merimas leaned forward to give his lovely wife a tender kiss…then it deepened into a very passionate kiss.

Not far into the kiss, Pippin could be heard shouting for Merimas in their sitting room. When he didn’t hear his brother-in-law respond, Pippin barged right into the bedroom with Rosebud in his arms--still coughing.

“Pippin!” Pervinca scolded her brother, quickly bringing the blankets up to cover her nightgown. Her disposition changed when she realized something was wrong with the baby. Then she saw the back of Pippin’s jacket when he turned to address her husband, who was taking the child into his arms. “What wrong with Rosebud?”

Merimas motioned for Pippin to follow him out to the sitting room. “Let’s go to your apartment across the hall to examine her. Grab my bag off the couch, if you please.”

A half hour later, a sleeping Rosebud lay curled up in her papa’s lap. Merimas had given the child something to relax her and to help her sleep. He now sat in front of the fireplace sipping a cup of tea. “I do want to apologize for not asking about my niece after her birthday party--as I truly wanted to,” he whispered.

“Well, I know that Pervinca’s not been feeling well,” said Pippin, also speaking softly. Now that things had calmed down, Pippin thought to ask about his sister. “How is she?”

Merimas smiled, “We suspect that she’s pregnant, but we don’t know for certain yet.” Then setting down his tea, he asked, “Tell me again how long Rosebud has been coughing like that.”

“I’m happy for you both,” said Pippin. He smiled for a quick second despite his own circumstances. “It’s been a few weeks now, but my daughter has always had a cough. Ever since she got sick the first time.”

“And when was that?”

“I believe it was a couple weeks after Lilas died,” answered Pippin. He sighed, gently caressing the baby’s soft cheeks. “Donnabelle gave me a recipe of aniseed tea to help Rosebud’s cough, but after a while, she refused to drink it. I tried mixing it with her apple juice then switched to blackcurrant juice. At first, she didn’t seem to mind the herb in its new juices, but after a couple days,” he looked up at Merimas, “she’d eventually taste the herb then reject it. My Rosebud can be a very clever lass.”

“She is a clever lass,” said Merimas. He smiled at the sweet face in slumber. Maybe Pervinca was right; having an adorable little daughter would be delightful. Merimas shifted uneasily in his chair, sitting up straight to give his verdict to his brother-in-law--again, the bitter aspect of being a healer. “However…her cleverness is what’s helped the cough get this far. There’s no doubting it. Her cough is very serious.”

Pippin tried his best to hold his composure, but was losing the battle. He wiped his eyes, asking, “How serious?”

“Serious enough to make me concerned,” said Merimas. “When I examined Rosebud, I could detect…” Merimas paused to gather himself, feeling like a cloud of doom that incessantly rained misery upon this young father. He could hear Pippin swallow his emotions, waiting for the pronouncement. Merimas went on, “I could detect fluid in her chest.”

“Fluid? What does that mean?”

Merimas sighed, sitting back into his chair. He found that he could not look at his brother-in-law while he explained what he meant. Speaking barely above a whisper, he replied, “It means that her lungs are filling up with liquid--she’s not getting enough air.”

“But…you can stop it--right?”

The earnest expression on Pippin’s face told Merimas that the lad’s hope rested entirely upon him--and for this brief second--Merimas wished he hadn’t chosen healing as a vocation. Pippin’s world was in jeopardy of crumbling down upon him--yet again. Merimas paused in giving his answer, searching for the right words.

“Right?” Pippin asked again.

Merimas looked into the lad’s weary eyes. “Children are resilient, Pippin. There are things we can yet do to help her.”

“And if they don’t work? What if she refuses to take her medicine again?” Pippin felt as if a double-edged sword had pierced his beating heart.

“Sometimes a child doesn’t know what is best for him. It’s our job as his mother or father to see that what is good for them is…carried out.”

Later that evening, Pippin held Rosebud in his lap, humming her favorite lullaby as he rocked her to sleep in front of the hearth. In her fist she held her wooden spoon, absently gnawing on it as her papa held her. Eyes of both father and daughter were red and exhausted.

“I’m sorry Rosebud,” Pippin softly whispered in her ear, resting his tear-stained cheek on the baby’s head. “Papa didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Rosebud put her thumb in her mouth, closing her eyes as she leaned her tired head against her father’s chest. It didn’t matter what had taken place minutes earlier, she still loved her papa the most in all the world. On the other hand, Pippin was having difficulties forgiving himself. He still sniffled, giving his beloved baby a gentle hug, stroking her soft curls.

Ten minutes ago, he took the healer’s advice about a child not always understanding what is best for him or her. Pippin held Rosebud secure in his arms while Merimas tried to force spoonfuls of aniseed tea into her mouth. Rosebud tried to fight, but she was too frail. Squirming and screaming, she finally cried out to the one who would--or should--rescue her.

Pippin’s heart went to pieces when she looked directly at him amid her tears, crying for her papa. Pippin called a halt to everything. “Stop, Merimas,” he practically shouted.

“I almost got another spoonful into her mouth,” Merimas replied, holding the spoonful ready. “If you stop now, she’ll be coughing again at bedtime.”

With Rosebud in his arms, Pippin leaned back into his chair exhausted. “I can’t do this,” he said. If it had been over whether she got to sleep with one of her favourite toys, or if he allowed her an extra slice of honey cake at dinner, then his will wouldn’t have been so quick to give in. However, his beloved Rosebud was frightened…and yes, once again sick.

“Can’t do this? Pip, this isn’t about what you can’t do,” replied Merimas offhandedly. Laying down the cup and spoon. “This is about Rosebud--and helping her to live.” He sat down in the other chair nearby, rubbing his tired eyes. “We’ve tried hot steam and now the tea. No matter what we do for her, she’s going to cry because she’s too young to know we’re trying to help her--and there’s not much else we can do. She’s ill, Pippin--can’t you see that?”

“Of course I can see that my daughter is ill!” the tween replied emphatically. “You don’t think that I’m worried for her?” Pippin lowered his voice, his shouting only antagonizing an already distressed baby. “Since Solmath she’s experienced violent coughing spells that leaves her little body gasping for air. Everyday I wonder if she’ll celebrate her next birthday--that is if she lasts through to next spring.” Pippin paused before he could go on, his voice quivering. “Everyday I wonder what I did or didn’t do that made her get sick this time, or the last time, or the time before that. Why? Why my Rosebud? She only a baby--she deserves a life better than this.”

“I don’t know why some children are born earlier than others,” answered Merimas, now speaking in a calm voice. He put his arm around the lad, “But I do know that there is nothing that you did or didn’t do to make your daughter sick.”

The hobbits sat in front of the fireplace in silence while Pippin comforted Rosebud. Watching the young father soothe the crying child, Merimas regretted his previous outburst. “I’m sorry, Pippin. I’m just frustrated at the persistence of her illness. I wasn’t questioning your abilities as a parent.” Merimas got up to walk towards the door, taking his leave. “I’ll check in on her later.”

Pippin now sat alone in his apartment, rocking his little daughter to sleep. He glanced up when he heard the door open, but said nothing.

“Hullo,” said Merry, closing the door behind him. Something didn’t seem altogether right about his cousin. “What’s wrong, Pip?”

“Rosebud is sick again.”

Merry let out a heavy sigh. “Bad?”

“Not yet,” answered Pippin. “We tried to feed her a bit of tea a while ago.”

“I take it by both of you sniffling that it didn’t go well,” said Merry, sitting down in the other chair. “Who helped--Merimas?” Pippin nodded. Merry said further, “I love my cousin dearly, Pip, but he can sometimes be too eager in his work.”

“He was fine, Merry. He was only trying to help, but…,” Pippin trailed off.

“But what?”

Pippin gently untied the pink ribbon from Rosebud’s little spray of hair, then smoothed out her auburn curls with his fingers. Her eyes were now closed as she dozed quietly in her father’s lap. “I couldn’t do it.”

“Couldn’t do what?” asked Merry.

“I couldn’t…I…,” Pippin was near tears again, “I’m not a good father, Merry.”

“Good father? What are you talking about, Pip?” said Merry, now sitting on the edge of his chair. Merry rarely had to defend Pippin’s abilities as a father--mostly because no one had ever dared challenged him about it. Perhaps an old matron or gaffer once or twice because of Pippin’s young age, but none of their younger friends ever questioned Pippin’s love for Rosebud. They had witnessed firsthand how lovingly the tween doted on his baby daughter. Rosebud was Pippin’s pride and joy, and everyone who saw them together knew it. However, Merry never imagined that he would end up defending Pippin to…Pippin. Merry stood to his feet, “Did Merimas fill your head with this?”

“No,” said Pippin in the healer’s defense, “Merimas was fine, I tell you. It’s just that--”

“Let me interrupt and say just this one thing,” Merry broke in, pacing in front of the hearth with fire in his blue eyes, “then I’ll let you have your say.” It was a sad day when either of the merry young hobbits succumbed to a depressive state, and it was sadder still when the light in Pippin’s bright green eyes was quenched. However, this was only when the nightmares took their toll on the two travellers.

Merry paused just long enough until he was sure he had his cousin’s undivided attention then continued on, “I have seen you pinch apple pies cooling on window sills, sneak mugs of ale at parties you were too young to attend, break expensive vases at Bag End after you were specifically told not to go tumbling on the couch--”

Pippin watched his cousin pace around like a mad-hobbit while he spoke. What was he getting at? Pippin interjected, “But--”

“I’m not finished, Pip,” said Merry. “You have tossed pebbles down empty wells, stolen Seeing-Stones that didn’t belong to you, and had relations with a lass you didn’t even know. However,” Merry knelt down in front of Pippin, tenderly holding one of his cousin’s hands, “I have seen you grow up and become a responsible tweenager--saving lives of Men you barely knew, becoming a husband to that stranger-lass and growing to love her as best as you knew how. Also, I have had the honour of being a witness at your daughter’s Name Blessing--pledging my love and support to her all the days of my life. I take my pledges very seriously. If for one second--one second, Pippin--I thought that you were not a fit parent or a ‘good father’ as you said, I would have told you so. You have grown, my friend. I consider you to be a very good father--never forget that.” Merry reached up, wiping a tear from Pippin’s eye. “Rosebud may be ill, but I’m positive there was nothing you did to bring it on. You’ve known since she was born that she would probably be a sickly child--because you were always in poor health as a child yourself.” Merry briefly looked away from Pippin. “Then there’s my brother Saramac…who…”

“Who died as an infant,” Pippin finished Merry’s sentence.

“Because he also was born too soon,” said Merry. He gave Pippin‘s hand a gentle squeeze. “Everyday we have with Rosebud is a blessing, Pip.” Merry smiled at the innocent babe, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her warm forehead, saying, “You’ll always be my favourite niece, Rosebud--no matter what happens.”

It was a quarter past three in the morning; Pippin felt like he would collapse if he didn’t sit down soon. He had walked the floor with a fussing Rosebud in his arms for the past five hours. Many times he tried to soothe Rosebud with a soft lullaby to no avail. His wee lass was not feeling well at all and was quite warm. As he was contemplating his and Rosebud’s future together, he heard Merry stirring inside his room.

“Good morning, Pip,” Merry yawned, shuffling into the sitting room. “I thought to see how you and Rosebud were doing.” It was a good thing Merry got up to check on his friend; Pippin was so tired he was stumbling over his own feet. “Off to bed with you,” Merry said to Pippin.

“I can’t,” Pippin replied, “Its my job as her father…to…to…” his mouth opened wide with a great yawn in response to Merry’s. “Excuse me.”

“To do what?” asked Merry with a wry grin. “You can’t even think straight right now to explain what that is. If you continue on you’ll drop her. If you sit down you’ll fall asleep and drop her. She’s too miserable to go to sleep herself, the poor lass.”

Pippin let out a tired sigh. “Very well,” he said with a hoarse voice, handing Rosebud over to Merry. Since his cousin put it that way, Pippin now feared to continue holding her in his tired arms. “Wake me if anything happens. Merimas was by a hour ago to check on her, so she’s fine for now unless…unless…her fever rises.”

“All right,” answered Merry, nestling the baby against his shoulder. “Now off with you.”

A while afterwards, Rosebud began to fuss again. Merry shifted the baby to his arms, then saw that her nose was running. “Let’s get you tidied up,” he said, taking Rosebud into his bedroom. While he dabbed her nose, Merry heard noises out in the sitting room. It had to be Pippin, yet Merry wondered why his cousin was still up. He watched Pippin stumble inside the bedroom. Pippin’s eyes were glazed over, but they were firmly fixed on the child in Merry’s arms. “No,” said Pippin, looking directly at his daughter. “I will not promise!”

TBC