Chapter Fifty Two - Full Circle

Pippin heard the clip-clop of the pony and bridle long before the sound finally arrived on the path directly behind him below the hill. Well…it wasn’t exactly a hill that he sat upon; in fact, it was only set just a tad higher than the rest of the graveyard. Still, Pippin liked the view from here, surrounded by wild flowers and foliage. He heard the rider greet him from behind where he was tethering the animal to a tree next to his own pony. Pippin paused before answering, taking in a deep breath as his eyes scanned the beautiful green hills around the peaceful dell. He remained sitting upon the soft grass, twisting his torso round just enough to make eye contact. “Hullo, Merry.”

“Your mum said you were here,” said Merry, ambling up the incline to meet his friend. “I wanted to--”

“…to make sure I was all right--I know,” said Pippin, finishing the sentence for his cousin. Blessed Meriadoc--where would he be without his dearly loved cousin? He managed a sad smile to reassure Merry, who seemed a bit taken back at the response. “Thank you, but I am all right.”

Merry eyed the trowel beside a sapling bush with broken earth at its base. Clinging tenaciously to the slender limbs were small, soft pink petals. “What did you plant? From the look of things, it’s a rose bush.”

“Well…,” Pippin began, “I saw a wild rose bush not far from the lane the day before last. It looked rather lonely, so…I took it. It more suits my lovely Rosebud. What do you think?” he asked, turning to gaze towards his handiwork.

Now it was Merry’s turn to manage a smile, though he still worried over his young cousin. “It does look lovely,” said Merry with quiet reassurance. “It will take root nicely before winter sets in.”

“Lets just sit here for a while, Merry,” said Pippin. He stretched his legs out upon the grass, then wiped the loose dirt from his hands onto his breeches.

Taking the invitation, Merry did much the same--sitting down next to Pippin with his legs out before him. He observed the colourful trees away off…the tall grasses…feeling the chill wind against his face. So much change, he thought. Frodo, Bilbo, and Gandalf had left on the 29^th of Holmath, sailing for the Undying lands. Merry knew that Pippin was just as sad about it as he was; they both would miss their dearest friends.

Merry couldn’t help but smile, musing on the return ride back to Crickhollow. Quite unexpectedly, Pippin’s voice rose in song as they left the Grey Havens behind. Merry puzzled over this; Pippin was still mourning the death of his baby daughter. He asked his young cousin why he was so light at heart that day. Pippin smiled, “Because…Frodo told me that should he see my Rosebud over there, he’d tell her just how much we love her and miss her.” Merry felt encouraged; he joined his cousin in singing.

Indeed, towards the end of Lithe, the lads had moved back to Crickhollow with the help of Fredegar and Merimas. Merry and Pippin talked about it for a long time, finally deciding to return to the tranquillity of the little cottage. At Crickhollow, there was a chance of healing unlike living in the apartment at Great Smials. Inside Pippin’s apartment lay reminders of his former life everywhere. The many knitted baby blankets…the bed warmer…Rosebud’s cot and her teething spoons. Living in the apartment itself was a painful reminder; it had been fashioned for a small family to live in, not two bachelor hobbits.

As Merry helped his dear friend along on the path to rebuilding his life, Pippin tried his best in keeping a wary eye out for Merry, though his own grief would often set in. Even so, the tween was clearly aware of his cousin’s need to come to terms with Rosebud’s death as well. In addition, Pippin was convinced that moving to Crickhollow would be the perfect opportunity for Merry to reconcile with Estella; the setting was secluded and private. Neither one of the pair was angry with the other, however, Pippin felt Merry was a bit hesitant with jumping right back into the marriage process. Pippin knew it was over Rosebud. It was the tweenager’s aim to get those two back onto the path of marriage as soon as possible.

Presently, sitting on the grassy incline where Lilas and Rosebud rested beside one another, Pippin spied the wistful smile on Merry’s face. “What are you smiling at?” he asked.

Merry reluctantly broke away from his reflections. “I was remembering our last tramp through the Shire…in Holmath--on our way back to Crickhollow.” Looking off at the distant line of trees, he smiled again at the memory then added wistfully, “How you were singing…and smiling.”

“Well…I can’t say that I’ve been in much of a mood to sing…or smile lately,” Pippin answered softly, glancing away towards the grave markers. “My heart hasn’t been in it.” Merry nodded in acknowledgement then scooted closer to his friend, placing his arm around his shoulder in loving support.

Pippin had improved much since their return to Crickhollow, though he still had his good days and bad days. Just last Trewsday Merry held the lad in his arms all through the night--consoling him until Saradoc could arrive the following morning. Nevertheless, the resilient hobbit was slowly but surely recovering from his tragedy.

Silence reigned for a long period while the hobbits sat listening to the breeze blowing through the trees. Merry eventually felt the autumn chill deep in his bones. He buried his limbs under the warmth of his cloak, shivering a bit. “Pip…I think it’s time to go home.”

Pippin sighed audibly, “I suppose so.” He busied himself gathering his gardening tools, chucking them into his rucksack while Merry got the ponies ready. The afternoon was waning, so they decided to spend one more night at Great Smials before heading back to Buckland the next morning. He watched as his dearest friend readied the ponies for the trek back to the Smials. “Wait, Merry.”

Rubbing the nose of Stybba, Merry turned to see what his cousin wanted. Pippin’s features had the expression of concern…perhaps worry. Not a good thing in Merry’s opinion. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” answered Pippin. He let loose the sack in his hand, allowing it to drop to the ground. He soon followed, sitting back down on the cool earth. “Come and sit, Merry.”

Merry was perplexed as to his cousin’s behavior, but was now more curious than anything. The lad obviously wanted to talk. Merry sat down next to Pippin not knowing exactly what to expect from the mourning lad.

Pippin gazed out towards the colourful trees, then glanced lovingly at Merry. “It’s been rough these past six months.”

Merry’s blue eyes tenderly met with Pippin’s green ones. “It has,” he said in agreement, then spoke nothing more. He waited for Pippin to continue.

“I…,” began Pippin, “I wouldn’t have come this far without you…and Uncle Sara.” He saw Merry’s mouth open as if to argue the point, then gently placed his fingers upon his cousin’s moving lips. Pippin couldn’t help but smile, recalling Merry doing something like this to him during his most difficult times. “Listen to me, you stubborn Brandybuck!” he said, then laughed kindly.

Merry was shocked; he hadn’t heard Pippin laugh in a very long time…and he loved it. It was like music to his ears. Merry’s mouth clamped shut in obedience.

Pippin grew serious again. “I don’t like to reflect on what could have happened had my father not asked Uncle Sara and you to watch over me at Crickhollow.” Tears sprang from his eyes and his voice cracked at the last part of his statement, “I am forever grateful, Merry--to you and to your dad.”

Not a moment’s hesitation, Merry threw his arms around his best and closest friend, wrapping Pippin in a tight hug. Merry whispered with emotion, “I did it gladly--and would do it all over again.”

“I know,” said Pippin, wiping his eyes. “I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there very much for you…during your own grief.”

Merry took out two pocket handkerchiefs, handing one to Pippin. “I understood, Pip. You were her father…I was merely a dear uncle.”

“You were much more than that, Merry Brandybuck!” Pippin gently reproved his friend. “You never saw the look on Rosebud’s face when she heard your voice. After you would walk inside the apartment and call out for her, she would laugh and giggle until you “found” her inside her cot. Rosebud loved you more than a dear uncle, Merry. She loved you as if you were her second papa. You once said that you wanted a daughter just like her…well, you had her…and she loved you very much.”

By the end of Pippin’s heartening words, Merry was quietly sobbing into Pippin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Merry,” whispered Pippin, consoling his friend. “Thank you for being there for her…for us.”

Slowly, the lads made their way back to the Smials. They arrived just in time to clean up and head to the Thain’s dining room for supper. Thereafter, they relaxed in the common room in front of the huge fireplace with a mug of beer and pipe. When the evening had passed, the friends bid one another good night, each going to his respective room for bed.

Pippin changed into his nightshirt then eased himself between the chilly bed linen. He chuckled to himself, remembering the night Lilas shocked him by placing her cold feet against his legs. He observed a bed warmer next to the fire irons; it wasn’t the same bed warmer, yet Pippin smiled at the warm memory nonetheless. As usual, without realizing it, he fell off to sleep…

Once again, Pippin found himself strolling in the green meadow of…somewhere. Yet this time, he walked alone. He scanned the area for the young lass with auburn curls dancing behind as she ran, but she was nowhere to be found. Pippin resigned himself to walking in the glen all by himself.

“Hullo!”

Pippin jumped at the sound. “Wha--?” There, standing behind him, was Rosebud, beautiful as ever. The pale complection from the last time he saw her was gone; the color had returned to her skin and face. No more wheezing nor bluish fingernails. She was smiling at him, though he could tell it was a sad smile. Pippin smiled in return. “You startled me, Muffin. I didn’t hear you walk up,” he said.

“I can’t stay long, Papa,” she spoke softly. Rosebud tried her best to be a brave lass, but the tears came anyway.

“I know,” he said, kneeling down to her eyelevel. “Don’t cry, love,” he said, wiping away her tears with his fingers.

“I won’t see you again--and I’ll miss you,” she said, beginning to cry.

“Sure you will,” Pippin answered tenderly, combing her soft tresses with his fingertips. “We’ll meet here by the brook one day, and together we’ll walk all the way past those trees that you love so well.” He half jokingly added, “I only hope you’ll recognize me. I’ll probably have all sorts of grey hair and wrinkles.”

Rosebud stopped weeping, though her long eyelashes were still wet; her nose still red. She spoke softly, “I’ll always know you--because you’re my papa.”

Pippin took out a handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes and nose. He smiled, “Just like old times, eh?”

Rosebud smiled; her papa could always make her smile. “Just like old times--whatever they are. I’m only eight, you know.” She took the hand her father offered her, walking beside him.

As they walked hand-in-hand, they spoke of nonsensical things, such as why the sun rises in the east, or where the wind comes from--why the stars twinkle at night. After a while, father and daughter finally stopped a short distance from the grove of trees. Pippin wanted this final visit to go on forever, but he knew better. At least, it would last forever in his heart. “Here we are,” he said, again kneeling down to better speak to his young daughter. “You’ll be fine, love. Just promise me that you’ll think of me…remember how much I love you.”

“I will,” she sniffed. “I’ll always remember you, Papa.”

Pippin wrapped her in a loving hug, his own tears spilling down his cheeks. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered into her ear.

Tears fell from her green eyes. “I have to go, Papa,” she sadly whispered in return. She would not break away from the embrace; she waited for him to let go.

When Pippin perceived this, slowly he loosed her. “I love you, Muffin.”

“I love you, Papa.”

Pippin stood up, gazing tearfully at his lovely lass slowly walking away towards the trees. Just before she entered the small opening set between two trees, Rosebud turned one last time towards Pippin. He couldn’t hear the words, however, they were unmistakable: “Goodbye, Papa.” Then she disappeared behind the great oak tree.

* * *

Twelve years later…

“And that’s what happened, Faramir,” said Pippin. After all these years, Pippin still felt a twinge in his heart whenever he spoke of his Rosebud. His auntie and uncle had been right about the fact of never forgetting a child. Every single day for the past twelve and a half years, Pippin recalled the sweet young babe he held in his arms at one time. He still missed her as if she lived just yesterday.

Pippin and three-year-old Faramir sat on the soft grass upon the small incline at the graveyard. He didn’t intend to bring the boy here today, however, after he and Faramir left the Smials to go for a long pony ride, Pippin felt inexplicably drawn to this place. He questioned if a child this young was able to understand such grown-up matters.

“I gots sisser, Papa,” replied the Faunt, pointing towards the wild rosebushes.

“No, no, Faramir,” Pippin smiled. “Not the bush--she lies over there,” he said, pointing at Rosebud’s grave marker. “But she lives forever in here,” he placed his hand over his heart.

“Muffin live in dere?”

Pippin smiled; Faramir understood. “Yes.” Faramir leaned in to kiss his father’s chest. “Lub you, Muffin. We come back, Papa?”

“Yes, we’ll come back,” said Pippin, delighted that his Rosebud had taken root in yet another heart. “But right now, your momma is waiting for us at home. She’ll have luncheon on the table soon. Up you go, now.”

As Pippin and Faramir walked towards the waiting pony, he thought he could feel eyes boring into the back of his head. He quickly turned round, gazing towards the coppice of trees, but there was no one…or was somebody truly there? Faramir tugged on his shirt cuff, impatient to get home to eat lunch. Pippin let his eyes linger at the trees for a while before deciding that there wasn’t. He turned back towards home.

T H E   E N D!!!!

A/N: I would like to thank the readers who took time out of their busy schedules at one time or another to leave a review. Your welcoming responses and encouragement meant the world to me; I have cherished each and every review. I have made many new friends through this wee epic. Here are some names to start--the list is huge! If your name doesn’t appear, its not because I forgot, but because my internet time has been severely curtailed. I’ll update them regularly until all are printed. Here goes: Thank you for reading Roses!

Airienn Learsson, Amy2, Arlewen, Aurora Tinuviel, Baxley, Beruthiel, Bluegrass Elf, Carcilwen Thornedrose/Greenleaf, Connie, deagol+smeagol, Dreamflower, Ellie’s Girl, Eruviluieth, Estella Brandybuck, evila-elf, Fantasy Fan, FrodoBaggins_88, Ginny 3000, Grey Wonderer, hobbit hopping, Hobbits Soul, Immortal Roses, Kriszta, Lady Jaina, Lilly (Belladonna) Took, Loveofthering, Lowri Brandybuck, Meldewen Ilce, Melilot Hill, Merrymagic26, Miriel, Mistress Hoblytla (Tanya), my-fool-of-a-took, Mysterious Ways, Natsumi Firewind, oumpa loumpa, Pearl Took, Pervinca/bra_chan90, pipinheart, Pipkin Sweetgrass, Pipspebble, Pipwise Brandygin, Pixie 03, Rosie Ann, Samwisegirl12, Surfer-Gurl, szhismine, Unhobbity Hobbit, Voldie On Varsity Track…

I am still working on the “other” ending, so if you’re waiting, it won’t be long. Most likely this week. Beruthiel wants to write a sequel to Where Roses Grow that includes her version of Diamond. I hope those who have enjoyed this tale will let their curiosity get the better of them and mosey on over to support her when she’s ready. I certainly plan to read it! Take care. - PF