Chapter Four - The Unexpected

Pippin had changed his clothes just as Pimpernel advised. He wore his simple homespun breeches, yellow shirt, and a brown waistcoat. Standing outside the Thain’s office, he took in a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”

Pippin turned the door handle and entered the office. He stopped when he saw another hobbit sitting in one of the winged chairs across from the Thain’s desk. “Am I interrupting, Father?”

“No, Peregrin; you are on time. Come in and sit,” he replied flatly, indicating to the other chair. Pippin also noticed his father did not use his nickname.

Pippin did not recognize the elder hobbit in the other chair, but nevertheless shook his hand, then took his seat in the other winged chair. The tension in the air was thick; he stayed silent.

“Peregrin, I want you to meet Silas Broadhammer,” Paladin paused for effect. “He’s the cooper from Hobbiton.”

At first, Pippin thought something rang familiar with the combination of “cooper” and “Hobbiton”, but it took a long minute to seep in. Suddenly he remembered the night of the Battle; his journey into the woods…he blanched in the face. He was her father--he knew. Now he was here to seek retribution from the Tooks. Pippin knew then that he was in hot water. “Sir--”, Pippin started, but a sharp look from his father silenced him.

“Mister Silas,” said Paladin, “as you know, this is my son Peregrin, of whom your daughter says is the father of her child.”

F-father?? Pippin felt like someone just kicked him in the stomach. He could not possibly be the father of any child; he was only twenty nine years old! “Father,” Pippin tried again, but this time his father was more forceful.

“Peregrin Took, you will be silent until spoken to, do you understand?”

Even without his father’s stern reprimand Pippin sat with gaping mouth; unable to form the thoughts that were whirling around in his head: shock, confusion, and anger. He looked pleadingly to his father across the miles of desk. Paladin turned away from his gaze and focused on Mister Silas. Pippin heard the incoherent drone of voices. Every now and then he heard his name come up along with the lass, Lilas. She was a complete stranger to Pippin, except for that one little encounter that happened…was it two months ago?

“Stand up, Peregrin.”

Pippin stirred from the buzz in his head. He looked to his father and unconsciously obeyed; rising slowly up from his seat.

“Shake hands with Mister Silas.”

Pippin complied. He felt as if he were a marionette and his father was pulling the strings. He watched Mister Silas slip a pouch into his pocket then walk out of the office. He sat down only after he heard the door click shut. Pippin was numb from head to toe.

Paladin also sat down in his leather chair. He could only stare at the tween who sat before him. So many emotions were spinning round in his head, yet he could not pin any one of them down. He wished he was able to so that at least then he would feel something. His tween-aged son, a valiant Knight and Messenger of the High King--and still very under aged, would become a father in five months time. He was not even thirty years old yet for heavens sake! The lad could barely call himself an adult, let alone be father to an infant. “Peregrin, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me this nightmare isn’t happening. Please tell me that you did not bring shame on that lass--or yourself.”

Pippin said nothing. He was leaning on the chair-arm with his elbow holding his forehead in his hands; hiding his tears. They ran freely down his cheeks as he prayed that he could turn back time--that he would never have allowed that lass to lure him into the trees. He regretted his drunkenness and that he had ever laid eyes on Miss Lilas.

The elder hobbit felt a prick in his heart as he watched his son sobbing in the chair. Giant or not, to him Pippin looked as if he was once again a small hobbit child, lost and alone. There was not a whole lot that Paladin could do to help his son out of this mess. He sighed. “A Bride is supposed to offer a dowry, not exact one. How could you be so irresponsible, Pippin?” There; he used his affectionate nickname though Paladin’s anger remained. Pippin was his son--his child--and still very much his responsibility. He got up and walked around his desk to sit in the other chair recently vacated by Mister Silas. Knowing Pippin rarely carried his own handkerchiefs, Paladin reached into his own pocket and handed one to his son. He would let Pippin cry for a bit longer, but there was much to do in the coming days. There would be no more time for tears.