Chapter Six - Many Meetings

Pippin sat at the dining table stirring the squash around his plate with a fork. His eyes remained fixed on his food the entire meal; he did not have the heart to look at his mother. Pippin couldn’t remember a meal so miserable.

Eglantine was quiet for most of dinner unless one of her grandsons spoke to her. She would steal a glimpse here and there towards her own son, sitting between Merry and Pimpernel’s oldest boy, Gelbrin.

Young Gelbrin couldn’t take it anymore; why was everyone so gloomy? “Are you sad, Uncle Pippin?” he asked.

Pippin stopped stirring his vegetables long enough to answer his nephew. He forced a cheerless smile and answered, “Yes, I am, Gelly.”

“Why?”

Pippin took a deep breath, not looking up from his place. “Because I am.”

“Gelbrin,” Pim called to her son, “Since you’re finished with your supper, why don’t we go to the playroom and read a book with Tilby?”

“It’s my turn to pick a book!” the six-year-old exclaimed, slipping down from his chair. With one last glance at her brother, Pimpernel ushered her children out of the dining room.

Paladin saw that Merry, too, was finished with his supper, and motioned for his nephew to leave the room with him. Merry excused himself from the table then accompanied his uncle. Only Pippin and Eglantine remained eating, or at least, sitting at the table.

Still looking down at his plate, Pippin continued to swirl his food around. He snuck a view towards his mother and found that she, too, had not eaten much. Both Tooks looked over to the door when a server entered with a tray on wheels and began to gather the empty plates. Suddenly aware of the two occupants still at the table, the servant observed the sorrowful expressions on each face then began to apologize. He promptly exited, quietly closing the door behind him for their privacy.

“Have you been to see her yet?” Eglantine could not bring herself to look her son in the eyes…not yet anyway.

Pippin looked to his mother, “Seen whom?”

“Her,” She replied. She couldn’t say the lass’s name yet, either. “The lass you…the lass from Hobbiton.”

“I wasn’t told she was here,” he answered, ignoring the first part of his mother’s reply. He took a deep breath; better to get it over with. “I’m sorry I failed you, mother.”

Eglantine thought she had no more tears to offer, but here she was yet again, for the hundredth time today, crying over her only son. She wiped her eyes with her napkin, sniffling, she said, “No, son, you failed yourself. You are a Knight of the High King, future Thain of the Shire. You were raised with love and kindness, and from the time we moved here to Great Smials you were groomed for the position that you would one day inherit. You had your choice of any lass in the Shire you wanted to love for the rest of your life. Your whole life was before you, son, and for the price of one moment of weakness, the wedded bliss you should have known is now gone. I know that she does not love you, Pippin--nor you her.”

Pippin couldn’t deny that he did not love her. “I’m sorry.”

It seemed to Eglantine that Lilas and Pippin would be a difficult issue for some time to come, so she quickly changed the subject. “Pervinca will arrive here tomorrow with Merimas and Brody. I don’t know if Pearl will be here; we haven’t received an answer from Needlehole yet.”

Pippin was not certain he wanted his sisters--especially Pearl--going to such great pains to witness what he considered to be a farce. “Father said earlier that he wanted to speak with me after supper,” said Pippin, standing up and laying his napkin upon the table. “Excuse me.”

“Go and look in on your friend Pippin,” Eglantine called out to her departing son.

* * *

Lilas heard a knock upon her door. I have a visitor? She opened the door.

“I’ve come to see if you’ve been made comfortable,” said the hobbit addressing her. “I’m Pimpernel, Pippin’s older sister.” Pimpernel introduced herself, though made no gesture of greeting.

Lilas opened the door wider, “Come in.”

Pimpernel stayed in the hallway. “No thank you. Do you have enough blankets? Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, for both yer questions,” Lilas answered. “Miss Iris is taking good care o’ me.”

“That’s Mistress Iris,” corrected Pimpernel. “She lives in Tuckborough with her four children. Her youngest child was born without sight, and two years ago her husband died. She works in the kitchens; going home every afternoon and evening after her guests have been fed.”

“Ye--ye know about yer servants?” Lilas was amazed that this wealthy Took knew about the private lives of the subordinates.

“I know what some folks in Hobbiton think--of those of us living here in Great Smials,” replied Pimpernel. “That we’re cold, eccentric, and care little for others in lower standing. I would suggest to you, Miss Lilas, that you keep your ears open. There is much for you to learn here.” Pimpernel could see beyond Lilas’ shoulders that the wood supply in the room was low. “I’ll send Pippin to fetch more wood for you.”

“Pippin fetches fire wood?”

Pimpernel hid her amusement. The wall she had built to keep Lilas out was breaking, although it would be a long while before she would allow herself to warm up to the lass. “Pippin knows how to cut wood, chop it, stack it, and build a fire with it. As I said, keep your ears open. Talk to your…husband-to-be and get to know him.” Noticing the goose-bumps on the lass’ arms, Pimpernel took off her own cardigan and put it around Lilas’ shoulders. “Most of the servants go home after dinner. The few in-mates we have living here see to our needs until bedtime, but generally after dinner we ‘high-and-mighty-folk’ fend for ourselves.”

“Thank ye,” Lilas said, warming up now that she was wrapped in Pimpernel’s sweater. “How long will I be kept in this room?”

“Kept in your room?” Pimpernel shook her head, “You’re not a prisoner, Lilas. You’re free to roam the Smials as you wish, but I would advise that you take Pippin with you because it’s easy to get lost among the tunnels if you’re not careful. A suite is being prepared for you and my brother as we speak--for after you take your vows. Did you bring a dress with you?”

“No,” Lilas answered, a little embarrassed. “Ma only made skirts an’ blouses for me, or I sewed them myself.”

Pimpernel sighed heavily. “My work is cut out for me then. There is no time to make a dress for you, so I will lend you one of my old dresses. We may have to make a few adjustments, but I’m sure that they can be made in time for your vows. Pervinca can assist me when she arrives.” Pimpernel saw the inquiring expression on Lilas’ face and added, “She’s my younger sister.”

Lilas grinned sadly, “Ears open.”

“Very good, Lilas,” Pimpernel took her leave. “I will return tomorrow so we can get started on the dress.”

* * *

In another part of the Smials, Paladin and Merry, joined by Pippin, sat in the Thain’s office discussing the plans for Pippin’s wedding on Sunday. The plans so far were for Merry to ride into Hobbiton to give Deputy- Mayor Baggins a message. Paladin requested that Frodo officiate the vows acting on behalf of Mayor Whitfoot. Moreover, the Marriage Certificate needed seven signatures on it before the marriage could be considered lawful. Pippin and Lilas were not of legal age yet, so neither one could sign officially, but would sign below the others in acknowledgement of their vows. Paladin would sign for his son, but who would sign for Lilas? Mister Silas had already told Paladin that he had washed his hands of his daughter. Perhaps one of the women present at the ceremony could sign for Lilas. The rest of the signatures would come mostly from trusted friends of Pippin and the family. It would be a long day tomorrow for Merry, playing message courier for his uncle, the Thain.

Merry sat in the chair across from the tea table. “I know that Frodo will be here, as will Fredegar. It won’t take much persuasion for Sam, Ferdie, Everard, and Reggie to sign the certificate. I’m of age--I can sign, too.”

“I will ask if Pimpernel will agree to sign for Lilas,” said Paladin, blowing out smoke from his pipe.

“If I will agree to what?” All heads turned in the direction of the door. Pimpernel walked in, “I knocked but nobody answered.”

“Sign for Lilas,” replied her father. “You know she’s not of age, don’t you?”

“I saw that when I visited her a few moments ago,” Pimpernel came and sat next to her father. “I also got the impression that she can’t read or write. I suppose I could sign for her, if no one else is willing to.”

“Splendid,” Paladin said. “When Merimas and Pervinca arrive, they will be the last signatures that we’ll need.”

Pimpernel remembered the real reason for intruding in upon the conversation. “Pippin, you really ought to go look in on Lilas. She’s almost your wife.”

Pippin shifted uneasily in his chair, “I wish everyone wouldn’t refer to her as my wife until it is actually so.”

“I wish you would have thought about that two months ago when you treated her as if she were your wife.” Paladin snapped his reply. “If you have not gone to her room to so much as welcome her, then you will go and do so now.” He watched a begrudging Pippin rise up from his seat and saunter towards the door.

“She needs firewood…,” Pimpernel called to her brother, but the door shut before she got out the last word, “…Pip.”

* * *

Lilas opened the door to see who was knocking. “Hullo?”

“I was told to bring you firewood.” Pippin was quick and straight to the point.

“Pimpernel must’ve sent ye.” Lilas said, observing a wooden cart the hobbit lad was pushing; it was full of chopped wood.

Pippin grabbed an armful and walked past her, walking straight over to the fireplace and began stacking the logs neatly off to the side. Without a word, Lilas watched him make two trips back and forth from the cart to the hearth. On the last trip he brought in a smaller wooden box and set it next to the stack of logs. “Kindling,” was all he said. Looking at the orange embers burning low, he took the hearth rod, stoked the cinders and built another fire for her.

Lilas gazed at the hobbit-lad in his normal, everyday clothes. This couldn’t be the same shining knight wearing the black and silver tunic she encountered at the Green Dragon two months previous. Though this lad was just as tall, he looked no older than she was. He appeared so much older that night. What have I done?, she thought to herself. We’re both too young for this.

“That should take all night to burn,” said Pippin, standing up and brushing his hands together. “Do you need anything else?” His eyes were fixed on the wall behind the lass standing in front of him.

Lilas felt lonely, wanting someone--anyone--to talk to. “Pravinca…is she older or younger than ye?”

“It’s PERvinca,” Pippin repeated his sister’s name, stressing the correct pronunciation. “She’s older. Anything else?” He strode over to the door to take his leave.

She answered meekly, “No.” The sound of the door closing echoed in the large room. Tears filled her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. Silently, she padded over to the bed and lay upon it, curling into a fetal position, sobbing deep and quietly into her pillow.