Chapter 12 - To the Market

Pippin had avoided excursions such as going to the market ever since his father called the disastrous meeting with Mister Silas earlier in the month. He still couldn’t get over the fact that he now had a father-in-law. Pippin wondered what sort of hobbit Mister Silas was in order to have raised the sort of daughter that Lilas became. As Pippin continued to muse on Lilas’ life--what little he knew of it, he started to feel somewhat disconnected from his own life as a married hobbit; he felt the bitterness resurfacing again. He did his best to squelch it, then the words Lilas spewed at him on their wedding night the week before came to mind. “I didn’t know what I was thinkin’! I only know that I’m sorry I did what I did! I’m sorry I got ye in this, and I’m sorry I got me in this! It’s all my doin’ and now I can’t ever go home!”

‘…can’t ever go home’ echoed in his thoughts. Pippin gazed at his wife sitting across from him in the carriage, knitting away at a new baby blanket. He realized while observing her that he would never know what sort of hobbit his father-in-law was, let alone get to know him--or her mother, brothers, or younger sister. His own father and mother, though hurt over his thoughtless actions, had been there for him--he still lived at home. His sisters and friends still loved him.

How did Lilas feel about all of this?, he thought. How did she feel about being abandoned by her family? Pippin had never known rejection of any sort from his. His pity overruled his bitterness towards Lilas.

He watched how Lilas matched up the line of stitching against her first blanket. Then he remembered that she didn’t know how to count. He recalled how at breakfast she so deftly laid her invitation off to the side. He remembered that she didn’t know how to read, either. The future Thain’s wife couldn’t read or write! He shook his head, I need to fix that.

For her part, Lilas knew that Pippin was looking intently at her, yet she continued to focus on her knitting. She wondered what was on his mind to be watching her. She looked at him inquiring, “What’s wrong? Have I done somethin’ again?”

Pippin shook his head, looking out the window at the town square, “No.”

Lilas too saw that they were drawing near the market, so she put away her knitting. She had been doing her own thinking during the ride to town. It was nearly two weeks since she and Pippin were married. Lilas never anticipated Pippin or his family to ever be friendly towards her; she fully expected to live the rest of her life in utter loneliness, with the exception being her child. Pippin had absolutely no reason to even like her, let alone be a friend to her, yet in spite of the ups and downs of their circumstances, Pippin was still a caring hobbit. Of course, there were days--like today--that she still was unsure as how to approach him; was he in a good humor or was he dour? However, Lilas was sure of it--she was warming up to Pippin’s inherent friendly personality. Another question to add to the first one; would this be their only child?

When the carriage came to a halt in front of the dress maker’s shop, Mat, the carriage-driver, came up and opened the door. As the three stood outside the carriage, Pippin noticed for the first time since meeting Lilas that she had lovely brown eyes--to match the reddish highlights in her auburn hair. Both sparkled in the afternoon sun. As pretty as she looked today in the late January sunlight, neither her eyes nor her hair made him love her. Pippin felt he needed to talk to someone; more specifically, Merry, though his cousin wouldn’t be arriving for a couple more weeks to visit. Pippin didn’t think that he could wait that long.

He glanced towards the dressmaker’s shop and saw a group of lasses perched near the doorway. Pippin winced; this was a place where all lasses gathered. He sighed, “I’ll be at the inn if anyone wants me.” He began walking in the direction of the local pub.

Pimpernel took her brother by the shoulders, gently turning him round in the direction of the shop, “You’ll be at the dressmaker’s--and we will be wanting your opinion of your wife’s new dresses!”

“Good afternoon,” Pippin addressed the lasses that crowded around the doorway. They smiled and curtsied to the tall, handsome Took.

“Good afternoon, Master Pippin,” they answered.

“’Afternoon, Mistress Pimpernel,” they chorused, greeting the young widow. Pimpernel nodded as she passed through the door, “’afternoon, ladies.”

When Lilas approached the doorway, she became aware of the cold stares from the same group. “Hullo,” Lilas said, nervously meeting their harsh gazes. Next thing she knew, she was pitching forward onto the wooden floor. She heard some giggling as she landed.

Pimpernel and Pippin turned at the sound of a dull thud behind them. “Lilas!” Pim was at her side, “Are you all right?”

Lilas quickly assessed herself, instinctively holding her abdomen. “I think so. I’m not hurtin’ at all.”

“Are you sure?” Pimpernel asked. Lilas nodded.

Pippin may not be happy with his life at this point, but he wasn’t going to stand for any mischief against Lilas…or his child. Stepping towards the doorway, he spoke low and menacing, “I will not ask which one of you tripped her, but I am telling you all to leave. Now!” The last word was almost a roar. Seeing his severe countenance, hobbit-lasses scattered before him.

Most of the afternoon was uneventful, though Pippin kept mumbling and pleading to be allowed to be with other lads--at the inn. Pimpernel forced him to endure the choosing of the fabrics, but once all of that was done, she willingly set him free. The only thing left now was for the seamstress to take Lilas’ measurements. She hadn’t seen her brother move so fast out of a room in a long time.

* * *

While the seamstress was taking Lilas’ measurements, Pimpernel occupied herself with choosing new fabric for couple new dresses for herself. The seamstress already took her sizes when Pim first returned with her husband to live at the Smials nearly a year ago. The material that she was admiring the most was a thin, cotton design material that would look pretty underneath an apron of similar solid color. Then she spotted a lovely pink satin material that she knew had to come from a place far away from the Shire. She lifted the price tag and nearly choked. They think the Tooks have a bottomless well of money!, she said to herself. Pimpernel looked over to the little room where Mistress Flora was taking Lilas’ measurements. She could see through the open doorway that Lilas had sat down in a chair.

The seamstress came to the door and spoke at Pimpernel, “Mistress, I can’t measure the lass unless she stands still.”

Pimpernel sighed. Perhaps Lilas did not realize it was important to remain motionless for just a few minutes. “Lilas, you really--” then Pimpernel noticed Lilas was holding her abdomen. Pimpernel dropped the bolts of cloth she held, running up to her sister-in-law. “Lilas, what’s wrong?” she asked. Lilas looked as if she was on the verge of tears. Pimpernel stooped down next to the chair where she sat.

“Don’t know, Pim,” Lilas was starting to get worried. “It hurts.”

“Lilas, when did it start hurting? Is it your belly?”

“A few minutes ago,” she nodded at Pim’s second question. “It wasn’t bad at first, but now it is.” Pimpernel made the lass stand up, checking the back of her dress for blood. She thanked the heavens there wasn’t any. “Please don’t let it be the baby,” she heard Lilas whisper.

Pim rose up on her feet, quickly addressing Flora, “Can you sit with her for a moment while I fetch my brother and the carriage?”

“Of course, Mistress--I didn’t know she was in pain. I’m dreadfully sorry!” By the time Flora apologized, Pimpernel had already disappeared out of the front door.

* * *

“Pippin!” Everard called to his young cousin, seeing him enter the pub. “Over here!” He waved his mug in the air. He brought it down for a draught when he saw Pippin walking towards his table. “Frequenting taverns now?” he jested.

“Only when I’m forced to,” Pippin quipped, remembering his distress in the dressmaker’s shop.

“Aye, I know the feeling,” said Everard, setting down his mug. Then he yelled, “Hollis! Another beer--and one for my cousin!”

“You seem happy today,” observed the tween. “What are you celebrating?”

Pippin smelled the beer on his friend’s breath as he leaned in close, “Laurel and I have been married one whole year!” With that, he laughed, raising the new mug he just received.

Not one to ruin a merry mood, Pippin raised his mug to meet he cousin’s, but he had to ask, “Shouldn’t you be home celebrating with Laurel?”

“Oh, I have!” he winked dramatically, “but now she’s busy with the wee one, getting ready for the name-blessing next week. Are you going to be there?”

“Of course,” Pippin replied. He grew quiet as he thought about the happiness he was missing. The words his mother spoke to him at the dinner table two weeks ago came back to him. “…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.” Would he ever be happy with Lilas, or was it all truly gone now? Pippin sat at the table fantasizing about celebrating his first wedding anniversary with a lass he had chosen to share his life with.

Everard saw the distant look on his friend’s face. “It will get better, Pip.”

Pippin took a long draught from his mug in response to Everard’s remark, “Maybe.”

No sooner had pippin put down his mug that he saw his sister running into the pub…alone.