Chapter Thirteen - Providence

“Pip!!” she yelled out, but was too out of breath to speak. “Li…Lilas…”

Everard stood up along with Pippin, seeing her panic-stricken face. “What about Lilas?” Pippin asked, setting Pim down in the chair next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Pimpernel took a couple deep breaths, then went on. “It’s Lilas--she’s…she’s in pain.” Another deep breath, and she spoke somewhat easier. “She’s in the dressmaker’s shop, in terrible pain. We must get her back to the Smials to see the midwife.”

Pippin blanched in the face. “is it the baby?” he asked.

“Come on, lad,” Everard pushed his young cousin towards the doorway while Pim followed behind. “I’ll help you.” The last thing needed was for Pippin to start becoming unraveled.

* *

Lilas lay across one of the benches in the carriage with her head in Pimpernel’s lap. To Pippin, she appeared to be asleep, then he saw her move her hand away from her belly to brush away a strand of hair that blew into her face, then back it went to her belly. Pimpernel combed away the remaining errant locks as they continued to ride home.

“How are you feeling now, Lilas?” Pippin asked her.

“Still hurts some,” she answered wearily, “but not like in the shop.” Pippin breathed a sigh of relief.

Everard had run to fetch Mat and the carriage nearby while Pippin and and his sister went back to the shop to get Lilas. Pimpernel glanced at the back of Lilas’ dress once again. Still nothing--a good sign. Pippin swept his wife into his arms and carried her outside to the waiting carriage.

As they stopped at the Main entrance, Pimpernel began to bark orders, “Everard, please run and find my parents. Pippin, you will take Lilas to your quarters while I find the midwife.” Pippin admired his sister’s ability to think straight in a dire situation. Pippin recalled that even as children she had carried a certain strength within her character. He decided that he wouldn’t be so quick to complain the next time she bossed him.

* * *

Paladin watched Pippin sitting in a chair near his; one leg crossed over his knee as the leg beneath it quaked, while biting his nails. What in the Shire is the lad going to do when her time has truly come? “Son, you have to calm yourself down.”

Pippin stopped biting his nails, but his leg continued to shake until Paladin thought he was going to be dizzy. He leaned forward, laying his hand upon his son’s crossed leg, forcing Pippin to still the other one. “Father--” Pippin started, however, just then the midwife appeared from the bedroom. Both Paladin and Pippin quickly stood up to hear the news.

“Is the baby all right?” Pippin blurted out. “And Lilas?” It wasn’t lost on Paladin which order his daughter-in-law fell into.

“Your wife and child will be fine, Mister Pippin,” she answered. “She took a bad fall, but it seems fate is on her side today. I gave Mistress Pimpernel a little mixture to administer into your wife’s tea to ease the pain and help her to sleep.”

“Thank you,” said Pippin. “May I go in to see her?”

The matron smiled, “Give her a few moments to gather herself and then you may go inside--for a short while. She is needing to rest; in fact, I would like your wife to remain abed for the next three days.”

Paladin saw a huge weight lift from Pippin’s young shoulders. He reached over and gave Pippin a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder.

Pippin felt the concern in his father’s gesture, “I will stay near her, Father.”

“For the entire time?”

Pippin nodded, “For the entire time.”

“Well then,” Paladin said, delighted that Pippin had taken the caring of his wife to heart. He turned to leave his son’s quarters, “I guess I’m not needed here.” He winked at the lad. “I will see that yours and Lilas’ meals are brought here.”

“Thank you, Father.”

* * *

The next morning, Pippin was sitting up in the bed next to Lilas quietly reading a book while she continued to sleep, then felt it wobble as Lilas turned over onto her back.

“What are ye reading?” she whispered, still weary from sleep and her ordeal the previous day.

Without looking away from the pages, he replied, “It’s a book about infants; what happens when they’re born and then how to care for them afterwards. It was written by my great-great-grandmother, Adamanta Chubb.” Then Pippin looked at Lilas and grinned, “She ought to know--she had twelve children.”

“Goodness!” Lilas gasped, sitting up.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right--just a bit hungry.”

“Just a bit?” Pippin gave he sideways glance.

If he felt like jesting then so could she. Lilas slowly sat up, “Just take me t’ the trough, will ye?” Pippin quickly laid down his book to assist her.

“The trough has found you,” he remarked, rising from the bed, he went over to the private supper table in their quarters and returned with a large tray of food.

Lilas saw that the “trough” had indeed come to her. “We won’t be goin’ t’ the dining room?”

“Until you’re allowed to get out of bed we’re taking meals here in our own quarters. Orders of the Thain himself, and we dare not disobey him.”

As her husband set up her tray, then prepared her tea--just the way she liked it, Lilas couldn’t help but be drawn to the warmth of his deep, green eyes. Her own eyes were still fixed upon his when he caught her gaze, then quickly put his attention elsewhere.

“Here--eat your breakfast, and I’ll be right here reading my book if you need anything.”

“Ye’re not gonna eat with me?”

Pippin was back on “his” side of the bed, picking his book up to begin reading again. “I already ate earlier. It’s almost Eleven o’clock.”

“Oh, my,” remarked Lilas, digging into her meal. After a few mouthfuls, Lilas decided that it was too silent between them. “Pippin, read t’ me what ye’re reading, please.”

Without a second thought Pippin began summarizing what he had read so far. Then he had another idea; instead, he offered it to her. “Here, why don’t you read the book yourself? We can share it.”

Lilas paused in eating, thinking her husband was having a jest at her expense. “Ye know I can’t read.”

“I won’t read to you anymore like this, Lilas,” replied Pippin. “

Today we’re going to begin your first lesson in learning your letters.”

“I can’t learn my letters.”

“Why not?”

“My Pa said he tried t’ learn my numbers t’ me when I was a wee lass, but I was too hard headed. I can’t reas’n, he says.”

Pippin was ever so glad that his parents never uttered a word to him or his sisters to make them feel stupid. “That’s too bad, Lilas. Fortunately, I feel differently. I believe you can learn your letters and your numbers.” Pippin wanted to laugh; the expression on her face was priceless. “Mistress Claypot said that you must stay abed for the next couple of days, so we’ll begin your studies after your breakfast. Today is as good a day as any.” Pippin chuckled as he reached over and gently pushed up on her chin where her jaw had dropped.

By early afternoon, husband and wife were singing a child’s tune that encompassed all the letters of the Westron alphabet. As they sang, Pippin would point to the letter they were singing which he had wrote for her to study on paper.

By week’s end, Lilas was putting together syllables and vowels, reading simple words. There were times when Pippin had to repeat a lesson, or review earlier ones, but all in all, he felt Lilas was an eager and willing student.

The following week, one particular afternoon--after Lilas’ knitting lesson with Eglantine, Pippin read along with her as she read an elementary book for the first time. Two pages into it, Lilas stopped reading. He looked at her and saw a tear run down her cheek.

“What wrong, Lilas? You were doing fine.”

“Pippin,” she looked at him, “I just read from a book.”

Pippin smiled, “I know--wasn’t that grand?”

She wiped the tear away, “I’m the first person in my family to learn my letters.”

“The very first?”

Lilas nodded, then looked at him mournfully, “they’ll never know, will they?” She was referring to her family in Hobbiton.

“But we’ll know,” he said, trying to cheer her up a little.

Lilas leaned over to him and gently kissed him on the cheek. “Thank ye.”

Pippin smiled, “You’re welcome.”

Later that night, as Lilas snuggled up to him in bed, Pippin lay awake wondering that if friendship was possible, was love also possible? They had been getting along quite well this past week, so Pippin felt comfortable knowing there was a familiarity developing between them. Did this mean that love was budding too--or was it mere infatuation? As she nestled close to him for the night, without a thought he casually put his arm around her. He inhaled the fragrance of her hair; it took him back to the night behind the Green Dragon. He sighed. Did he want to love Lilas? Pippin couldn’t answer that question.

For her part, as Lilas lay next to Pippin--also awake, her thoughts ran just as deep. She rather enjoyed these moments with Pippin; him allowing her this near to him. She felt his sensitivity as his arm draped around her protectively. Her eyes welled as she was overcome with emotion. Was he aware of her staring into the depth of his lovely green eyes? Or the slight touch of their hands as he was teaching her to write her name? Did he notice that she splashed fragrant water on herself just for him?

In the deep of night, as husband and wife quietly reflected on their circumstances, sleep crept in and stole husband and wife away to slumber.