Chapter Five - Facing the Future

“I heard there’s going to be a ceremony.”

Pippin had been sitting in the same chair in the Thain’s office for well over an hour. His father had left to prepare a few things. He wiped his eyes, looking up he saw his life-long friend. “The day after tomorrow,” he said, sniffling. “But I don’t love her, Merry. I don’t think that marriage is the answer; I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.”

Merry sat down in the chair previously occupied by his uncle. Pimpernel had filled him in on everything while the important meeting was going on. “Well, Pip,” he said sighing, “I don’t think it’s about what you want anymore. There’s Lilas to think about as well as your baby.” Merry still couldn’t believe his young cousin had done…well, that he was going to be a father. He’s too young, Merry thought to himself. “So, you weren’t just sick when I found you back in the woods behind the Green Dragon?”

“How do I know that she’s even carrying my child?” Pippin’s weary anger was rousing again. “How do I know that the baby isn’t a Stonehouse or a Bellows? Those lads are notorious for having seduced an unwary lass or two. How do I know that Lilas wasn’t with one of them during that time and is now using unscrupulous ways to become a Took?”

“Pippin,” Merry reasoned, though he himself was still reeling from the news, “work it out on your fingers. Ragin Stonehouse was killed by ruffians long before we returned, and if your memory serves, we found Mort Bellows in the lock-holes. The only other scoundrels that I know of run within our own social circle--and they regard themselves too high to have anything to do with a cooper’s daughter.”

Pippin sighed heavily. “Merry, what am I going to do?”

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” Merry answered. “You’re going to stand up, walk down the hallway to your room and have a sleep. You’re far too wrung out to do anything or make any decisions right now.”

“I can’t sleep now, Merry,” said Pippin, though he finally arose from the chair. His red eyes and nose were swollen from the tears that still trickled down his cheeks. “I just need peace and quiet to think about all of this.”

Merry had an idea. “You go and do that in your room while I fetch us both a nice, cup of hot tea.” Merry walked his cousin to his room, then went to the kitchens to make a special cup of tea for his friend. His older cousin in Buckland, Merimas, would often concoct this recipe when Merry went through periods of insomnia after the War. His cousin needed to relax and rest, Merry thought. He imagined the days that lay ahead for Pippin would soon tax the very wits of the tween.

* * *

“Pippin,” came a soft voice.

Opening his eyelids, it took a second for Pippin to focus his blurry eyes on his sister. He had grown very sleepy after his tea with Merry and fell asleep on the couch in his room.

“Come along, Pippin, it’s time for supper,” she said.

He felt rather toasty under the thick quilt. He did not want to face his family at the table. Without thinking, he gave her his best lost puppy look, “Can’t I have a tray sent in?”

“No, you may not. Mother and Father are expecting you in the dining room,” she answered firmly. Pimpernel saw his imploring eyes and wanted to smile. He looked so boyish and vulnerable. She wanted to tell him that this was all a mistake; that Lilas had either lied or suddenly remembered she was with another, more corrupt lad that dark evening. Pippin was not a corrupt lad; he had been brought up well with morals taught to him by both parents.

She believed that Pippin, even in the inebriated state that he was, knew full well what he was doing at the time, but the beer in him clouded his judgment. In Pimpernel’s opinion, her young brother had been deviously seduced and taken advantage of.

“I’m not hungry,” he answered, then turned over. It wasn’t a bad dream as he thought. Shame was now descending upon the tween; he could readily guess what folks must be thinking about him now: rogue, immoral, disgusting, wayward, repulsive, vile. The list went on and on. And his dear mother! How she must abhor him now. Tears sprang anew in his eyes.

Pimpernel saw his tears, then she reflected on how much Pippin had grown. Yes, he was taller than when he left the Shire a year ago, but he was also taller inside. Would her brother’s jovial spirit rise to the occasion? This was one battle Pimpernel was willing to suffer: to fight for her brother’s courage. She had heard from their cousins that Pippin had plenty of it during the War.

Pippin’s spirit was flagging for the present, but Pimpernel would not allow it to go on. It was wounded now, but if he gave up completely, it would be lost forever. She yanked the quilt off of him, saying, “Peregrin Took, get up! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Mother has seen very little of you in the past year and she wants us all to have dinner together.” She then held her arm out as if she were directing one of her own children, “Now march!”

* * *

Lilas sat on the edge of the enormous bed too afraid to move. It had both a headboard and a footboard made of a dark wood with posts that went almost to the ceiling. She guessed the wood was walnut, as she had heard the tales of how the wealthy folk lived. It was every bit of what she imagined and more. The room she was given was obviously an inner room, as it had no window. She did not like the sense of being enclosed--she was used to opening a window in her old bedroom in Hobbiton whenever she wanted to. Her eyes caught sight of the large piece of furniture against the far wall. It was her very own wardrobe. In her father’s house, she and her sister shared a room, the bed, and the wardrobe.

Lilas overcame her trepidation and wandered over to inspect it. When she opened the doors, she could smell a sweet fragrance of flowers. Looking down, she noticed a small sachet and lifted it to her nose. Underneath the top most shelf, she discovered a rod running the length of it. Decorative padded hangars made with a silky material hung from the rod. There were more shelves on the lower right side that contained extra pillows, blankets, and linens. She closed the doors to the wardrobe and went over to the bureau. Lilas had never seen one up close. The tween skimmed her hand over the smooth polished surface. It had three drawers, and on top was a ceramic bowl and pitcher for washing up. A linen towel lay next to it. Unfolding it, she saw the embroidered stitching of a daisy. In the corner was set an eating table with two chairs, and on the table was a brass lantern. She saw that a desk and wooden chair was placed against the other wall. Lilas chuckled to herself; what in the Shire would she do with a desk? She could neither read nor write. Finally, on either side of her large bed was a bed table, each with a candle in its stand.

Lilas could not help feeling overwhelmed. Here she was in a guest room of Great Smials; she--a simple lass from away yonder in Hobbiton. The scruffy little bag on the bed that contained all of her effects was a stark reminder of the reason for her being here. She could never return home. She wished she had never met Nida, yet the lass who had become her closest friend over the past couple years was the only hobbit in the world who seemed to think she wasn’t lazy…or dumb. But now Lilas did feel dumb; how could Nida be such a clever lass and yet be so wrong about lads? She wiped away an errant tear that ran down her cheek, Now I’ve gone and done it, her mother’s words echoed in her mind. The spacious room suddenly gave Lilas a chill. A knock on the door startled the tween out of her thoughts.

The door opened slightly and a head peaked through. “Miss, I’ve brought ye a tray for yer supper.” The matronly servant came through the door holding a large tray with covered dishes and a small pitcher of an unknown beverage. “My name is Iris, Miss. I’ll be yer server while yer a guest here.” Iris set the tray on Lilas’ eating table. Turning towards her newest charge, Iris saw the goose bumps on the girl’s arms. “You poor child!” She came up and vigorously rubbed the girl’s upper arms to warm her up. “Have ye a cardigan with ye? I could start a fire if ye like. Has anyone been in t’ see ye?”

Lilas puzzled at so many questions. “No, I--I have no cardigan. I outgrew it and gave it to my sister. Fire?” she looked at the small hearth, “I would like that--thank ye.”

Iris went to the wardrobe and pulled out a light blanket and folded it in half, bringing it towards the girl, “Why don’t we put this around ye for now until ye can get warmed up, eh?” She threw the blanket around Lilas’ shoulders, then guided the tween into the chair to sit down and eat. Iris uncovered the steaming dishes and poured water into the empty glass. While Lilas began to eat, Iris threw a bit of kindling around the logs in the fireplace and started a fire. “There ye are, now, Miss. I’ll look in on ye later when I fetch the tray. When ye’re done, just lay it out in the hallway.” Iris went over to the door, standing in the threshold she took her leave of Lilas. “Now, if ye won’t be needing anything, Miss…?”

Lilas didn’t understand the woman’s remark. “Needing anything?”

Iris smiled at the guest’s naiveté, “Will ye be needing anything further before I leave?”

“Oh!” Lilas shook her head, “No, mum--and thank ye.” She heard Iris chuckling as she shut the door.