A/N: This next little scene was actually inspired from my own marriage long ago. I once read where Lynn Johnston did her take on it in her cartoon strip, For Better or For Worse, so I figured women everywhere suffered from this malady. 

Chapter Eleven - The Inevitable

Over the course of the following few days Pippin said nothing further of his nightmares, though there weren’t many. There were times that Lilas tried to bring the subject up, but he would change it every time. He wanted to tell her, but it unnerved him so. Pippin was beginning to wonder when this particular bout would stop. Usually, his night terrors came and went in spells, as would Merry’s. When the dreams did appear--or he thought that they might, he would get very little sleep, making him ill-tempered all the next day, snapping at those he loved. One night, as he was contemplating his inevitable conversation with his wife, he felt her climb into bed.

Lilas buried herself under the covers, having felt chilled for the past hour. She looked at the fire in the hearth and saw that it was crackling with new wood. Pippin had tended the fire himself before going to bed. With a sigh she slid further under the blankets, which this night she thought were too thin. She lay under the covers considering whether or not she should get another blanket from the wardrobe, but the longer she laid there, the warmer she felt. Minutes later, her feet were still cold. Lilas felt Pippin roll over; looking over her shoulder, she saw he had rolled to the edge of ‘his’ side. While she was looking over her shoulder, she felt the warmth his body had left behind on the bed linen. Cautiously, she scooted back some. Then little by little she slid her feet back towards where the warmth emanated…

“Yeeooow!” Pippin cried, jumping up out of bed. “What was that?!”

Lilas turned over to face Pippin, giving him her most innocent look, “What was what?”

“You know very well what I’m speaking of! Those were your furry-ice feet, weren’t they?” he demanded, rubbing warmth back into his legs.

“I’m sorry, Pippin. I get cold sometimes.”

“Well just keep your little ice-blocks on ‘your’ side of the bed and we’ll get along nicely,” he said, striding over to the fireplace. “That’s what they make bed warmers for.” He stooped down, using the tongs, he pulled out two of the bricks kept just within the grating and placed them inside a brass pan with a long handle attached to it. He flipped the lid shut and locked it. Lilas watched with fascination as he walked back over to the bed, carrying the pan with steam billowing from the vents.

Pippin lifted the blankets and shoved the warmer between the sheet and the blanket; he would not want his wife burning her feet. Lilas jerked her feet away, never having seen the likes of a warmer. Pippin puzzled at her reaction, “It won’t bite you!” he teased.

“I thought…,” she started, then trailed off.

“You thought what?” Pippin took her feet, nearly forcing them near the steam rising from between the covers. He realized her feet were indeed very cold. Once Lilas felt the heat, she relaxed, allowing the warmth to seep it’s way into her toes, feet, and legs.

“You’ll think it’s silly,” she replied.

“Try me.”

“Well…I thought it was a cooking pan, though I didn’t know why it would be in here because we don’t have a pantry. I almost made ye a ’tater stew in it the other day.” Pippin snorted, then snickered. Then Lilas began to laugh.

“I wouldn’t have been the wiser, either. I probably would’ve eaten it!” Pippin got up, going to the wardrobe, he pulled out a blanket. Folding it in half, he brought it over to Lilas and threw it over her. When he finally got back into bed, he hesitated for a second, but then conceded. “Come on,” he said, inviting her to the middle of the bed to share body warmth. “Just remember where to keep your feet.”

Lilas snuggled closer to her warm husband, her back to him. This felt so much more like being married than sleeping alone--each on their own ‘side’ of the huge bed. Her new question that she kept to herself was when they would consummate their vows. She decided she would leave that up to Pippin; whenever he would feel comfortable--or, if ever he would feel comfortable with her.

“Pippin?”

“Hmm?“ Here it comes, he thought. However, this time, Pippin didn’t want to change the subject. Out with it, you ninny hammer!, he chided himself, using Sam’s favorite label for himself. You’re the one who said we were strangers that needed to open up to each other. Pippin braced himself to bare his emotional journey to his wife.

“How did ye come t’ meet that dark lord? Was he the reas’n ye left the Shire?”

“Yes…and no,” he answered, forging on with the account of his tale. He told her about Bilbo finding the one Ring of power, then bequeathing it to his adopted heir, Frodo. Of their conspiracy, and then all the way to Rivendell.

“Ye lived with the elves?”

“Don’t interrupt, Lilas, or I may not start up again.” On he continued about the Nine members of the Fellowship and their entire journey from beginning to end. Throughout most of his tale, Lilas would nod or say something to indicate she was listening, but Pippin hadn’t heard anything from her in a while. It was when he leaned forward that he saw her eyelids were closed and breathing deep in slumber. Just as well, he thought, though curious as to when she left the story.

* * *

Upon seating themselves for breakfast in the Thain’s dining room, Pippin saw small, white envelopes set next to the plates of where the ladies normally sat. Pimpernel and his mother had one as did Lilas. He watched as Lilas set hers off to the side then commenced to fill her plate to capacity with food from nearly every platter within her grasp. First it was a mound of flat-cakes, then two huge scoops of fried taters, three links of sausages with sausage gravy poured over them. Pippin turned his attention back to his own plate.

Pimpernel had read and set down the little note she received. “Lilas, we’ve been invited to have tea with Cousin Rosamunda on Trewsday.”

Lilas barely paused in her eating, “I can’t go--I’ve got nothing proper t’ wear at a tea.” All she had was the one dress that Pimpernel had given to her for the wedding, and the one she was wearing today; the green one that Pervinca had given her a couple days before she and Merimas returned to Buckland. The rest were work frocks from when she had worked for her father that now felt too snug to wear.

Pim sighed; she saw nearly everyday what Lilas wore. “Pippin, you really must take Lilas to market today and purchase her a few new dresses--ones that will fit her in the coming months.”

Pippin understood that Lilas would start to expand as the baby grew inside her, but he detested when Pimpernel felt she could order him around--especially now that he was an older tween. “Father, Pimpernel thinks that she tell me what to do again.”

Paladin sighed. “Pippin,” he answered, “you will take your wife to the market and purchase her several new frocks and anything else she is needing. Pimpernel, you may accompany them to assist Lilas.” It had always been so easy for him to think of these things when it came to his dearest Tina, but Paladin often had to remind himself that Pippin was still a young lad, not happy with his situation, and needed to be reminded of these particulars.

Pippin slouched in his chair, “I knew someday that I would regret having older, bossy sisters.”

Pim chuckled, “I think you’ve been regretting it since the day you were born.”