Chapter Nineteen - Homeward Bound

“Do you like the pretty, sunny yellow material or the pale blue?” Pervinca held the differing cloths next to one another for Lilas to choose. Slowly she inched the yellow material in front of the blue.

“Lilas, don’t let my sister sway you either way,” said Pimpernel, “as you can tell, yellow is her favorite color.”

“But I do like the way the yellow reminds me of a sunny summer mornin’,” Lilas reflected in thought. “Can I decorate the nursery in both yellow and pink?” The other ladies hushed their conversation.

Pimpernel leaned in towards her young sister-in-law, “What if the baby is a boy, Lilas? You don’t want him looking through pink curtains, do you?”

“You can decorate your baby’s nursery in any color you wish, Lilas,” Pervinca put in, pleased that yellow was a chosen favorite. “He’ll be an infant long enough to not care what color his curtains are. By the time he is old enough to care, you’ll have already redecorated his room in blue.”

Pimpernel had a hard time finding argument against her sister’s reasoning. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “All they seem to care about the first several months is where the cradle is, when the next feeding takes place, and who’s going to change their smelly nappies!” All the lasses burst out laughing.

“I can hardly wait until my Sam and I--,” then she stopped suddenly, blushing.

All eyes turned to Rosie. “You can hardly wait until what?” Pervinca smiled. “Tell us!”

“I know that look!” Laurel added, bouncing her own young infant in her arms. “You can’t hide it anymore, Miss Rosie.”

“What is Sam up to?” Estella nudged Rosie, sitting to her right.

“Well…,” Rosie started, “he told me he’s going to ask my dad for my hand! The women all gasped.

“And??” Pervinca could hardly contain herself. She had known Rosie since her first visit to Bag End as a little girl.

“I don’t know,” Rosie answered. “That was a few days ago--I haven’t asked him about it since then.” The friends let go of their breath all at once, then congratulated Rosie on her prospect of marriage.

“Rosie?” It was Lilas who spoke. The giggles and smiles waned when they saw her countenance. “Do ye…,” she was almost whispering. “Do ye ever see my Ma? Or Saborra? Anyone in my family?”

Rosie’s heart went out to Lilas. She knew the Broadhammers, but mostly through contact with them when she was at the market. She knew Saborra and Lilas’ younger brother, Sabo. Rosie was very careful with her next words. “I’ve seen your mother outside tending her garden, and she…well, she looks sad. Saborra has asked me about you, knowing that my Sam knows mister Frodo, who is a Took himself.” Rosie smiled, “she’s a clever lass, that one.” Lilas listened eagerly as Rosie continued. “I went with my dad to purchase a barrel at the market last week. Sabo looked at me as if he wanted to ask a question, but he didn’t. I haven’t seen anyone else of your family. I’m sorry, Lilas.”

Lilas looked devastated. “My ma’s sad?” she sniffed. “It’s all my fault--I made her sad.” Poor Rosie looked helplessly at her friends. Pervinca reached over and took Lilas’ hand in a compassionate gesture.

As the elder sister present, Pimpernel felt as if she now had not one, but two younger sisters to watch over. “Yes,” Pim said, putting her hand on her youngest “sister’s” shoulder, “you made her sad for a while because of your actions--but she’s your mother, Lilas; she’s sad because she misses you, and it seems the rest of your family does too.” Pimpernel saw her words fall flat on the table between them. Lilas had already put her hands to her face to cover her shame and tears. Pimpernel took the girl into her arms, leading her into the bedroom for privacy.

Pippin was still sitting on the floor picking up errant nails when Pervinca came into the nursery. She explained to him what had happened and that Lilas was upset.

When Pippin entered the bedroom, his wife and his older sister were sitting next to each other on the bed. Lilas was still crying, her face buried in Pim’s shoulder. Pippin went to sit on the opposite side of his wife.

“What’s wrong, Lilas?” he asked kindly. Lilas made no move; she continued to sob.

Pimpernel gently pulled Lilas away from her shoulder, combing away the damp locks that were matted near her tearful eyes, revealing flushed cheeks. She spoke softly to her young sister-in-law, “Talk to him, sweetie.” She rose up from the bed and quietly left the room.

When Pimpernel got up, Pippin scooted nearer to Lilas. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

Lilas sniffled; with her head down she wiped the tears away from her eyes. “My ma.”

Pippin reached into Lilas’ bureau and got a handkerchief, handing it to her. “What about your mother?”

Lilas wiped her face with the soft cloth. “Thank ye,” she sniffed. “I asked Rosie about her. Rosie told me she’d seen my ma in the garden and looked like she was sad.” She looked mournfully at Pippin, “I made her like that--my ma’s sad because of me.”

Pippin sighed. “It seems that we both have made our parents sad. But that is in the past now, Lilas. I’ll bet that if she stood before you right now, wild ponies couldn’t stop her from taking you into her arms.”

“That will never happen,” she replied softly, still sniffling. “I can’t ever go home, Pippin.”

“Who said that?”

“My pa,” answered Lilas, remembering the drive from Hobbiton to Great Smials. “He’s ashamed of me--says folks will be laughing at him because of me. That’s probably why my ma is so sad.”

“You don’t know for sure that she was sad because of you, Lilas. Rosie told you what she thought she saw. Your mother could have been sad over something else that happened just moments before Rosie saw her.”

Lilas choked back a few sobs, “I miss her, Pippin--I miss my ma.”

Pippin took his wife and enveloped her into a warm hug. “Until now, I never considered how much you missed your own family,” he said. Then Pippin lifted her chin to look at her, “And as for your father, he may own the house he lives in, but he doesn’t own Hobbiton.” Pippin saw an idea forming in his head.

* * *

“Are you comfortable, Lilas?” Pippin handed his wife another cushion for the carriage ride. He watched as she regarded his offer, looking at the pile already sitting next to her on the bench. “It’s a long ride to Hobbiton,” he warned her. “Are you still certain you want to do this?”

Lilas nodded. “I remember well,” was all she said about the long ride, taking the cushion from Pippin.

“Are you two ready?” Merry came up beside his cousin. “Frodo, Sam, and Rosie are already on their way back. I thought we would only be a few minutes behind them.”

“It takes a little more time to prepare when you have a pregnant hobbit traveling,” Pippin responded, pointing towards the three large hampers tied to the back of the carriage, carrying rations for elevenses and luncheon. “Father says a husband can never carry too many provisions when picnicking with children or pregnant lasses.”

Merry grinned, “I think he learned that from picnicking with you when you were a laddie!”

“Did not!”

“Did.”

“Did not.”

“Did.”

“You boys sound so clever!” Lilas smirked as she finished spreading the pillows and cushions around the bench. Her words had surprised Pippin; Lilas had not said much since her distress two nights before. Then a smile appeared on her face, “But you both truly are.”

“Thank you, Lilas!” Merry said, stepping up into the carriage. “At least somebody appreciates me around here.”

Pippin was nervous as the carriage started up, taking the narrow lanes westward around the Smials towards the Waymeet Road. It was one thing to plan the trip, but it was another to actually be on the road riding to where things began. Pippin had not visited Frodo--or Hobbiton for that matter, in a long while. He would finally come face to face with his in-laws. What were they like? And Mister Silas--turning out his daughter from his house like she were no more than a stray cat. Yes, Pippin thought, it will be a long ride indeed.

(Thank you to Pipkinsweetgrass for the brilliant fan-art of a Pippin-Faerie. If anyone wants a copy, just email her; she’s the author of the wonderful Beecharmer stories.)