Chapter Twenty Seven - Pillow Talk

It was now the first week of Astron, and once again, Pippin lay awake in the quiet darkness of the bedroom. He could hear that Lilas wasn’t sleeping very well either--tossing and turning every ten minutes or so. He looked at the clock; almost midnight.

Over the course of the past few weeks, Pippin and Lilas’ night sleep had gradually decreased as her belly grew. She still had bouts of “certain feelings”, but mostly, her own sleeplessness came from aching muscles or the sensation of her baby moving. Both tweens would often catch naps in the afternoon. Paladin, understanding his son’s midday fatigue, would release Pippin early from his training as Thain.

Pippin whispered, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she moaned; her voice muffled by her pillow. “It seems the baby isn’t sleeping, either.”

“The baby…,” he trailed off. “I think it’s about time we named him, don’t you?”

Lilas smiled in the darkness, “Well…I should think that “Rosebud” would hardly fit him.”

“I’m not giving my lad a lass’s name,” he whispered his response.

“And I’m not giving my daughter a lad’s name!” Lilas whispered back. They both snickered in the quiet of the night.

Pippin’s smile waned when he thought of whom he wanted to honor in naming his child. “Lilas, I want to name our son Boromir.”

Lilas knew that the Tooks predominantly named their lads high-sounding names, but this name seemed completely foreign to her. “Why Boromir?”

Pippin once again explained the different members of the Fellowship, then how the great warrior’s demeanor struck him as a young and insecure tween. “I was so far from home, Lilas. Merry, Frodo, and Sam were my constant companions, but” he paused, remembering the brave Gondorian, “there was something different about him. He was always so kind to Merry and I.”

Even in the moonlit darkness, Lilas could see her husband’s eyes light up and then sparkle with moisture as he spoke of this valiant Man. She reached over, combing a few errant curls behind his ear. “Then in honor of Mr. Boromir, our son shall bear his name.” She felt Pippin take her hand in his own and then kiss it. “Thank you,” he said.

“Now,” she smiled again, “what if our baby is a daughter?”

Pippin laughed softly, “We can’t name her Boromir!”

“Of course not, ye silly boy,” she squeezed his hand. “I’ve been thinking of naming her Rosebud.”

“Why Rosebud?” he asked. “Do you have a favorite aunt or a grandmother who has that name?”

Lilas thought about his question, “No. Must I? I just rather like the name.”

“But almost everyone in the Shire has a daughter named Rose, or Rose-something.”

“My family doesn’t have a Rose-lass and neither does yers.”

“I wanted to give her an elvish name,” said Pippin.

“An elvish name? Wouldn’t that sound a little too fancy even for the Tooks?”

“Fancy?” Pippin shook his head, “I don’t think so--do you think Peregrin is too fancy? Because that’s my given name. I was thinking of Mellessë --don’t you like it?”

Lilas sighed, “It sounds nice enough, I suppose.”

Pippin also sighed; he certainly didn’t want to use guilt to force Lilas into going along with his wishes. “Why don’t we mull over them both for a couple of days then come back to our daughter’s name?”

“That sounds reasonable,” Lilas replied, shifting onto her back once more. “Now all I need t’ do is be able t’ fall asleep!” Her back still felt a bit sore, so she turned over onto her other side; her back to Pippin.

Pippin tried to imagine himself with a heavy weight attached to his tummy--trying to sleep and find a comfortable position, which were few. He brushed her long auburn tresses aside then began to massage her back, shoulders, and neck.

“Pippin, ye poor lad,” Lilas replied, sighing her delight at feeling her back muscles begin to relax. “Yer hands must ache terribly--ye’ve been doing this almost every night for me.”

“My husbandly duties,” he responded in a kindly tone. “Are you comfortable?”

“I am,” she sighed again, “but our wee babe is still awake.”

An idea began to form in Pippin’s head. What is the difference if the baby is still in the womb, or if he--or she--is just a few days old? Pippin clearly remembered singing a lullaby to his nephews as young infants to calm them or put them to sleep. “Lie on your back, Lilas,” he whispered.

“I just turned from lying on my back, Pip.”

“Do you want the baby to stop moving?”

“At this point, I’m willin’ t’ try anything,” she answered wearily, then moved to lie upon her back. “What do ye have in mind?”

“You’ll see,“ he said, scooting down the mattress until he was level with her tummy. He began stroking her belly, then to softly hum a lullaby his mother would often sing to him when he was a young child.

Lilas listened as Pippin hummed the simple melody. What a beautiful voice he had! So smooth and soothing…her eyelids started to get heavier.

Pippin did this for a while, then looked up at his wife to see if the lullaby had worked enough to calm the baby inside her--that he or she wasn’t moving so much. He smiled; his lullaby seemed to have worked on Lilas quite well--she was fast asleep.

“I can hardly wait until you’re born, Boromir,” he whispered towards her tummy. “I have lots of games to teach you--how to climb trees, and how skim stones across the streams in the woods. You’re not even born yet and already you have a family who loves you and will spoil you rotten!” He grinned, “And I am the chief-spoiler!” He leaned over, tenderly placing a kiss atop his wife’s belly. “Good night, baby. I love you.” Pippin gingerly slid back up the bed, closing his own eyes.