Chapter Nine: Facets

The work of the summer increased after the time of the Fair. Diamond barely saw Captain Peregrin, save for at meals, when he hungrily wolfed down whatever was put in front of him, as did near all the other hobbits of the Smials. His body was apparently so weary from the harvesting of oats and cutting of hay that it let his mind rest, as well, for the times he awakened her for a mid-night game of draughts were greatly reduced.

Thain Paladin was working just as hard, and as well, as his son.

Diamond found that there was much to do for hobbitesses at the Smials in the summer, also -- for most, anyway. Pimpernel had gone on extended visits to each of her sisters in turn, taking her daughter along to play with her cousins and offering her own services as Pearl and Pervinca stored the summer’s provender for the coming months.

Diamond, herself, had many more tasks in overseeing the canning and preserving of foods brought to the Smials, and deciding on what size portions they should be stored in so that they could be retrieved in the winter months, and making sure the hobbits who came in from the fields each day were well-fed. No one complained about the size of her meals now -- even though, to her horror, many of the hobbits frequently missed returning to the Smials for elevenses. Still, those who were there, and especially Captain Peregrin, when he made an appearance, ate well.

Diamond had been concerned, of course, about the financial impact of so many fine meals, but another task that had taken her time this summer had been going over such figures with Geranium, and learning to understand the tallies.

Mistress Eglantine, she knew, followed behind and checked her figures, just as the Thain’s wife’s gaze surveyed the plates set before all the hobbits at elevenses. She did not offer further instruction, and Diamond still quailed at the thought of approaching the Mistress of the Smials as she would her mother.

When she was not busy with the kitchen duties, or with overseeing the housekeeping staff, Diamond had found a small garden plot to tend, where she could attempt to coax into life the herbs and flowers with which she was familiar. The tending took quite a bit of time, as she had not begun it until after Forelithe, a rather late start for a garden. It was Mistress Eglantine who had suggested this, at least according to the message Diamond had received through Geranium, and, although she was not sure why her mother-in-law wished her to garden, she was glad of it.

In the hours this summer which Diamond spent in her quarters, she had begun to attempt creating pictures like the seed art she had seen at the Fair. The summer’s fecund materials proved frustrating, though,and she thought perhaps she would have to wait until autumn when dried air meant drier, and more easily handled, seeds.

She also, in her moments of leisure, dutifully read the books Healer Willow had given her. Or, perhaps she should say, “book.” Diamond, while competent in reading as a properly raised hobbitess should be, was not an especially fast reader.

And the story of Holly Grubbfoot was certainly different from the texts she had studied at her parents’ home. She felt certain these books were another thing, such as inn games like draughts, of which they would not have approved.

Yet the Smials’ healer said they would help her, and assist in fulfilling her duty to her husband. Diamond had not yet puzzled this out -- perhaps it would be in a subsequent manual -- but she found she certainly enjoyed Holly’s story, much more than her previous studies. In part, she read slowly to savor it and, when she had at length finished the section where Holly and Cap “melted into each other’s arms as the fire in the forge grew hot,” she turned back to the first page to read again, and make note of any instructions she may have missed.

She did not mention her reading material in the letters she sent to her home.


“So,” Captain Peregrin said over supper one evening in late Wedmath, after a sudden shower had brought him home uncharacteristically early from the fields, “shall we go on a summer holiday soon, then?”

“Holiday?” Diamond echoed, surprised, stilling her hand in the process of scooping cucumbers and cream out of the serving bowl.

“Aye, a holiday,’ Pippin answered, waving the cucumber slice upon his own fork so that droplets of cream fell to the tablecloth. “I suppose you have been quite busy this summer, as have I, but the Smials have managed without me before, and I daresay they will again, and you as well.

“And, well,” he muttered as he leaned his head back toward his plate again and cast a glance toward the letter propped on a tray near the door for the morrow’s post, “I thought perhaps you should like to see your kin.”


Lines of pain creased the corners of Pippin’s eyes as he drove the cart through Oatbarton, but he carefully kept his mouth set in a neutral line, nodding to the hobbits who occasionally emerged from their smials to gawk at him. He could not, however, bring himself to smile.

Now that he was back on the cart, his leg was more of a dull ache rather than the throbbing pain, but it was still making itself felt. He’d thought the conveyance well-sprung, and so it was, for a trip along any other road but this. He had climbed out to peer at the axles more than once, and he and Diamond, to ease the pony’s load, had both spent time walking along the rutted road.

Now, the woods they traveled through had thinned to reveal the town of Oatbarton. A village, really, it would have been in any other part of the Shire, and Pippin wondered at the fortitude of the farmhobbits from the North Farthing’s south reaches who came to this small place to discuss their barley plantings with Gerin North-Took. Or, perhaps it was Diamond’s father, or her brother, who traveled to them -- Pippin didn't really know, as he hadn’t ever asked his wife.

Diamond sat beside him on the cart seat now, her own face as sober as his. She recognized a few of the hobbits about, though, of course, her own tasks and seclusion of the past seven years meant that she did not know any of them well. How small, and quiet, her town seemed in comparison to the crowds and bustle of Great Smials! Still, these were her people. It was they who had chosen to bestow upon her the honor of being wed to Captain Peregrin, and she aimed to show the dignity that would make them proud.

As the road neared the edge of town, Pippin glanced inquiringly, one eyebrow raised, at his wife. Diamond slightly inclined her head to the right, and Pippin then caught a glimpse of the estate, a quarter mile away, its south-facing front shadowed and cooled by the trees that emerged from the woods around it.

A servant came to meet them at the pony’s head as Pippin drove the cart down the tree-lined lane, the land dipping toward the stone facade of the smial built into the slight rise behind it.

“Welcome to North-Took Tunnelings,” he said as he held the pony’s bridle after Pippin had pulled on the reins to stop the cart. The servant held himself erect and looked not at Pippin, but at a distant spot down the lane as he said solemnly, “The family of North-Took is honored to welcome you, sir.”

“Well, that’s good, as I’m honored to be here,’ Pippin said, forcing a strained smile onto his face despite the pain in his leg. “Would you mind terribly putting the pony and cart up for us? ‘Tis a long drive.”

The servant kept to himself his surprise at being asked to perform his required duty in such a manner and replied only, “Of course, sir.” He stood still and straight by the pony’s head as Pippin clambered off the cart and turned to help Diamond down.

“Hello, Joz,” she said with a small smile as they walked past the servant on their way to the smial. “It is good to see you again.”

It was only after the Heir and his Mistress had entered the smial’s main door that Joz glanced toward where their backs had disappeared. Offering friendly greetings to their servants was something the North-Tooks, until just now, did not do.

The North-Took family itself had arrayed themselves in a line within the entry corridor to bid welcome.

“Sir,” Gerin said, puffing his chest out and sparing but the briefest flicker of his pride-filled eyes to his daughter as she stood within his home on the arm of the Thain’s Heir, “I hope our servant has bid you welcome. It is my honor to do so again, on behalf of both my family, and the North Farthing. Gerin North-Took, at your service,” he said, taking a bow. His wife and younger daughter curtsied along with him, lowering their heads to look upon the floor, but Ganelon, while he bowed, kept his eyes fixed upon Pippin and Diamond.

“And your family’s,” Pippin replied, inclining his head in return as, next to him, Diamond did the same.If this had been any other hobbit hole he’d visited, he would have expected the formalities to have ended there, and Diamond and her family members to rush into hugs. But, although the lass and her parents smiled at each other, his wife continued to stand by his side, her arm locked in his. Pippin said nothing; truth be told, he was finding her handy to lean upon in support, again, and he was well aware of the political importance his visit to this smial carried.

Gerin turned to nod to each of his family members in turn. “My wife, Mistress Honeysuckle North-Took, I believe you have met,” he said, and that hobbitess curtsied again. “This next is my son, Ganelon North-Took.”

Ganelon, although his eyes rested only at Pippin’s chin, was a head taller than his father and, rather than that hobbit’s round tummy, had still the hard leanness of youth. He reached forward a hand and Pippin, adjusting his grip on Diamond’s arm, reached back to receive a particularly hard clasp that felt almost like a challenge.

“And this last is our young lass, Jewel,” Gerin said, and the tween’s light brown curls bobbed as she offered a simpering smile and performed another curtsy.

“Diamond, Nettle has prepared your old room, if you would like to freshen up before supper,” Gerin said, still beaming, and Diamond responded,

“Yes, thank you, Father,” and led Pippin through the corridors.

Supper, despite the presence of the entire family, rather than merely the two hobbits at the regular meals in Pippin’s and Diamond’s quarters at the Smials, was a rather subdued affair. Gerin offered occasional comments -- or suggestions, more like -- on the food, but Pippin seemed expected to take the lead in any conversation and, feeling tired, achy, and out of place, he was not at his best. Ganelon bumped his hand once as he pushed forward a platter of bread, but the hobbitesses all bent their faces attentively to their plates, and no one acted as if anything was amiss.

Pippin found that, after supper, at least it was easy to be quietly companionable while sharing a smoke in the parlor with the North-Took hobbits. The lasses sat in another area of the room, and at least they were quietly conversing now, though the direction of the air currents in the room made it difficult for him to hear what was said. Jewel did giggle once and start to rise, but as Pippin glanced over, a look from Honeysuckle quelled her.

He tamped out his pipe, raised his arms above his head and stretched, making a show of exhaustion, and said as he raised himself from his chair, “I’m afraid the journey was more than I am used to. I think I shall retire early this evening, and leave you all to it.” He smiled encouragingly at Diamond. “Perhaps if you could just direct me to the bathing room?”

“Certainly, husband,” Diamond said, and rose to follow him.

Pippin did hear, this time, her mother say to her, “You shall find all that’s needed to draw a bath in the same place, my dear.”

His face fell. “Oh, no. I -- I didn’t mean -- you don’t have to,” he stumbled as the whole family turned their faces upon him. “Well, that is, couldn’t one of the servants do it?” he finished. The main reason he had purposed leaving was so that Diamond could have some time alone to visit with her parents, as he suspected that it was his presence that was causing things to be uncomfortable.

“Joz has already taken himself off for the evening,” Ganelon said curtly. “He has a small house of his own near the stables.”

“We could call him back, if you would like, sir,” Gerin offered helpfully.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Pippin said hastily from where he now stood awkwardly in the doorway. He felt, somehow, that stating before these hobbits that he could draw his own bath would not be a good idea. “What about -- what’s her name -- Nettie?”

He was met with stony silence, a disappointed look passing quickly over Gerin’s face and a disapproving glare settling on Ganelon’s. Honeysuckle’s features held a knowing sadness.

“I do not believe,” Diamond said calmly, and held out her arm, “that Nettle would be an appropriate choice.”

Pippin took the arm, his eartips flushed red, and allowed Diamond to lead him to the bathing room.

He stood morosely, hands in his breeches pockets, against the wall as he watched Diamond fill the basin with the newly heated water. “I can do that myself, you know,” he had told her as they entered the room. “I do at the Smials.”

“Do you, husband?” Diamond questioned lightly. “I had thought there were servants who had tasks that earned their wages.”

“Well, all right,” Pippin drawled. “But I did at Crickhollow!”

Diamond lifted questioning eyes as she continued to kneel and pour a bucket into the basin.

“Never mind,” Pippin shook his head. “The point is, you shouldn’t have to do this. I had thought you’d like to go back to the parlor and talk to your parents some more.”

“Ah, but they will ask if I have performed my duty,” Diamond said, swishing her hand through the water in the basin to check the temperature. She rose, satisfied, shook off her hand and returned the bucket to the hearth as she said, “and I shouldn’t like to disappoint them, or to tell an untruth.”

“Diamond,” Pippin said, catching at her hand as she made to walk past him through the doorway. “I’m sorry I bollixed things up for you in front of your family.” His ears turned pink again as he continued, “With -- with what I said about the maid drawing my bath.”

Diamond stood still a moment, her hand in his, before she withdrew it and said with a bright, albeit effortful, smile, “’Tis all right, husband. You were not to have known she was an unmarried lass.”

After her departure, Pippin muttered to himself, “Bloody well could have guessed,” and then kicked the side of the basin in frustration before yelping, “Ouch!”


Pippin was the first to awake the next morning. He turned his head to the pillow next to him and saw that the sun casting its dapples through the branches outside the east window was casting a play of shadows and light upon Diamond’s dark curls. The bed chamber of the quarters he occupied as the Smials’ Heir, unlike the one his parents had housed him in as a lad, had no window, and he had not seen this view before.

He reached out slowly to finger one curl, near the ends of her long hair, which lay in a pool of light. He was careful, as he felt its softness, not to pull and thus jar her awake.

He wondered, as his gaze traveled to another dimple of sunshine, this one on the nightdress that rose and fell evenly above the sheet tucked about her waist, what it would be like to see the bosom beneath.

He supposed he had seen them before -- after all, he had been a babe, once, and nursed no doubt by his mother -- but, thankfully, he didn’t remember that, and, really, it wasn’t the same thing at all! And then there had been the time before the Quest when he had walked into a room at Brandy Hall and surprised -- yes, that was definitely the right word -- Merry and Angelica Baggins in a rather interesting activity. But that room had been shadowed, and the view of the lass’s gaping bodice merely a profile before Merry shouted angrily and Pip made a hasty retreat.

And then, after the Quest...well, after the Quest he had commitments. To honor the betrothal he had made to this lass lying next to him; and ‘twouldn’t have been fair to the other lasses, either.

Still, he was curious, but he had waited this long, he supposed he could wait some more. He would not force himself upon an unwilling hobbitess. And Nellie and Everard’s child was not born until three years after their marriage; perhaps they had not -- no! no! To think of one’s sister in such a way was near as bad as one’s mother -- especially since he knew that, if he asked, Everard would tell him all in full, blunt detail.

Diamond stirred and blinked awake, and Pippin quietly withdrew his hand from her curls.

“Good morning, husband,” she said as her gray eyes took in him looking at her, “what do you wish to do this day?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, lying back against his pillow after propping himself on an elbow for so long. “Do you know what your brother’s plans are?”

“I am not certain,” Diamond answered, her gaze flicking to the window. “He had said it was possible he might go fishing.”

“Really?” Pippin asked eagerly, and sat up again. “Do you think he might take me with him?”

“I am sure he would be honored, husband,” Diamond said.

“Yes,” Pippin answered soberly. “Well, anyway -- how old is your brother, Diamond?” he asked, turning to gaze full upon her face.

“He is forty-one, husband,” she answered. “And my sister is twenty-two,” she anticipated the next question. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I suppose,” Pippin said with a shrug. “Will you and your mother and sister talk of lass things, then, if I go off fishing? I hope you had a good visit last night.”

“Yes, husband,” Diamond said with a smile. “Thank you.”

The maid handed Ganelon a covered basket of food as they made ready to depart on their fishing trip, and Pippin smiled in her direction and said, “Thank you, Nettie.”

Nettle smiled back and curtsied. The North-Tooks were agreeable enough to work for, for the most part, but she had not been called Nettie in four years, save on visits home.

Ganelon grunted, “Yes, thank you, lass,” as he swung the basket over one arm, a fishing pole propped on the other shoulder.

“So,” Pippin said as they stood, their feet immersed in the cool, clear stream in the woods while their lines trailed in the water, “what do they call you, then? Ganny? Lonnie?”

Ganelon raised his empty line and made a show of recasting it gracefully. “My name is Ganelon,” he responded soberly. “Nicknames, if used at all, are for the servant class.”

Pippin cast a sidelong glance of his green eyes toward his brother-in-law, but said nothing and returned his gaze to the stream.

They fished for a time in silence, until Ganelon broke it with the abrupt question, “So, do you like them?”

“What?” Pippin answered, furling his brow in confusion as he looked up again from his rod.

“Servants,” Ganelon answered matter-of-factly. “Our servants. Your servants. Servants as a whole.”

“Well...yes, in general. Of course,” Pippin answered slowly. Not wanting to offend the North Farthing, he added, “Everyone here has been most welcoming.”

Ganelon let out a small noise that might have been a snort but, as the other hobbit’s face was bent toward the stream, Pippin couldn’t be sure.

“So, do you prefer their company to that of my sister?” Ganelon asked in a low and steady tone.

“What?” Pippin asked again, then his mouth set firmly, his ears flushed red, and he began, “Now, see here--”

“We raised her to be a lady, you know,” Ganelon said, turning his face toward Pippin.

It was the first time anyone from the North-Took household had looked him directly in the eyes. For some reason, Pippin did not find it much of an improvement. He bit back the retort that rose to his mind -- “Well, they should have reared you as a gentlehobbit!” -- and said instead, in a voice as hard as steel, “I have honored, and I shall continue to honor, the vows I have made to the Shire. And to your sister. She is my wife.”

“Yes. Yes, she is,” Ganelon said calmly, his attention turned back to his fishing now. “And a fine Mistress of the Great Smials she will make someday. Perhaps,” he added casually, raising his pole a bit to check his line, “she should even be The Took, in time, if she did not wish to pass it on to your Heir just yet.”

Pippin set his mouth in a grim line and returned his attention to his own fishing pole, but kept his senses on alert. He quietly flexed the bad foot in the mud beneath the water. He had a feeling it would not be wise to show weakness in front of this hobbit.

As Ganelon and Pippin had prepared to depart for fishing that morning, Gerin also had made ready for a visit to his shop in Oatbarton.

“Is there anything you need me to bring you, wife?” he asked Honeysuckle as all the hobbits milled around the kitchen.

“Yes, husband,” the gray-curled hobbitess said, hitching herself over to Gerin’s side. “I have made you a list.” She pressed the paper into his palm, and their hands squeezed together in an old habit as they looked fondly into each other’s eyes.

“And you, Diamond?” Gerin asked, turning away from his wife. “May I bring you some things as well?”

“Aye,” she responded absently, watching as Pippin and Ganelon went out the door.

“Yes?” Gerin prompted in the silence that fell after they left. “You what, lass?”

“I--,” Diamond blushed. “Yes, Father, I do have a list.”

Gerin left, finally, and Honeysuckle sent her younger daughter off to her studies and the maid to tend to duties in the far end of the smial. She sat down at the kitchen table across from Diamond, and reached out to clasp her daughter’s hands in her own.

“So, my lass,” she began, then cleared her throat. “Are you well?”

“Yes, Mother, I am,” Diamond said with a radiant smile and withdrew one hand to pat her mother’s.

“So, the Great Smials is as fine as we had hoped?” Honeysuckle asked.

“Oh, yes, Mother!” Diamond said again, beaming. “It is all that and more!” She was thinking of the numerous servants, and the many hobbits they attended, filling the Great Smials with a bustle and a grandeur which was in such contrast to North-Took Tunnelings. Here, the cooled holes behind the shady trees had many empty rooms, and some corridors a hobbit had no reason to walk down.

“So,” Honeysuckle said and shifted uncomfortably in her chair, pulling her hand out from beneath Diamond’s to rest it on her lap. “Are you -- are you yet with child?” She asked this in nearly a whisper, her eyes dropping to the hand in her lap, and then caught her lip between her teeth.

“No,” Diamond answered quietly, her own gaze dropping to their linked hands. “No, I am not.”

“It’s your duty, lass,” Honeysuckle said, and her grip tightened again on her daughter’s hand, but she looked away. “No matter how unpleasant it may be.”

“Yes, Mother, I know,” Diamond answered, her own head bent toward the table. For she had always expected, despite the hopes she held that this, like so many other things, would be different at the Great Smials, that the duty of producing an Heir would be an unpleasant one.

Her mother had spoken of it only in such terms. Her occasional references were to the day when twenty-year-old Diamond had asked about the activity of two of the cats that prowled the estate for rodents.

“Mother?” Diamond had asked as she alit from the carriage upon their return from Oatbarton. “What is wrong with the cats? Why are they fighting?”

Two of the gray-striped felines were entangled with each other by the side of the drive. It was hard to distinguish the fur of one from that of the other as they yowled, and when Diamond took steps to approach them, they hissed and spat at her more fiercely than ever before.

“They are not fighting,” Honeysuckle had said wearily as she lifted Jewel down and then put a hand to her hip. “It is another unpleasant business: that of making babes.”

Now, in the kitchen, Diamond informed her mother, “I have asked for assistance from the healer at the Smials.”

Honeysuckle nodded, once. “Yes,” she said. “That’s good. And has he given you anything to help?”

“Well--,” Diamond hesitated, as she did not feel she should tell her mother of the books. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Yes, she has given me some things.”

“Oh,” said Honeysuckle, drawing her hand up to tuck a curl behind her ear. If, on its way, the thumb brushed against the corner of her eye, it was on the far side from Diamond, and the lass was meant not to notice. “A female healer. I suppose that’s a good thing, then.” Her gaze stared wistfully across the kitchen a moment, and then she pasted a bright smile back on her face, turned to her daughter, and said,

“Well. Why don’t you tell me all about the food, and the parties at the Smials, and how it is to be the young Heir’s wife?”


During this visit to the North Farthing, Pippin accompanied Gerin, Ganelon, and Diamond into the town of Oatbarton. Diamond stayed behind at her father’s shop, where she had spent many days in earlier years, while the hobbits visited the inn.

Most of those who lived within a reasonable distance had contrived to be in Oatbarton this day, so the Bramble Bush contained many more hobbits than it usually saw. The low murmurings and the sidelong glances at Pippin’s party ceased in their wake as Gerin led his son and son-in-law to the bar.

“Mr. North-Took,” the innkeeper said, and bowed before Gerin, the glass he was in the midst of wiping off clasped before him. Many of the other hobbits inclined their heads respectfully as well.

“It is good to see you this day, Herman,” Gerin answered the innkeep, beaming. “You know my son, of course.” He nodded at Ganelon, and Herman tipped his head again. “And I am pleased to introduce the husband of my daughter, as well: Captain Peregrin Took, son of Thain Paladin.”

Gerin turned his smile toward Pippin, and all the hobbits in the room stopped pretending to feast their eyes as well as their bellies upon their food and drink, and stared at him in frank appraisal. The only sound for a long moment came from the ale a serving lass was in the midst of pouring, while Pippin held himself rigid and still and looked back into the sea of eyes fixed upon him.

Gerin, realizing belatedly that the North Farthing hobbits would not bow without a signal from him, hastened to motion them to do so.

Pippin, however, held up a hand to forestall him and quirked up the corners of his mouth in amusement, then put one bent arm before him and the other behind and, instead, bowed himself to the assembled room.

“I am pleased to make the acquaintance of the hobbits of this Farthing,” he said as he straightened, and now several of the heads in the room did lower themselves before him. “And I am sure such fine hobbits deserve a round of what I know is some of the Shire’s finest ale.”

Among the confusion as Herman and his serving lass scurried to fill and deliver the mugs for the round the Heir was buying, some hobbits in the crowd discussed things amongst themselves.

“It’s been a long time, that those two clans have been cleaved apart.”

“Well, I say it was a good idea to cleave ‘em back together, so long as he’s buyin’.”

Gerin excused himself after a time to return to the shop, for the day’s many visitors to Oatbarton meant the chance for increased business as well. Pippin lingered at the inn long enough for the other hobbits to observe him eat, and enjoy, a fillet of their particular freshwater fish, and a blueberry custard, and a serving of barley with caramelized mushrooms and onions, as well as the requisite ale.

He, too, excused himself before Ganelon, and wandered to Gerin’s shop.

The door stood open, so no bell jangled as Pippin stepped inside to stand hidden behind the shelves packed high with goods. Business, at the moment, was at a lull, and Gerin stood behind the counter speaking to Diamond.

“So, what would my precious jewel like from the stores of the store?” he asked jovially.

Diamond giggled. “Father!” she protested gently. “You have another Jewel now.”

“Oh. Yes, yes, so I do,” Gerin answered and turned aside to dust along the top of the counter. “But she was a long time in coming,” he said quietly and sadly to the woodwork, then turned back to smile at his eldest daughter once more, “and, anyway, you were my first precious lass.”

Then his face fell again and he looked uncertain, his silver-streaked curls shifting in place as he leaned his weight from one foot to the other. “Though I suppose you are my lass no longer, but Captain Peregrin’s,” he said.

Diamond’s face flushed, and her eyes lowered, and she did not answer.

“I am so proud of you, Diamond,” Gerin said solemnly. “to be a Mistress of the Great Smials, and wed to the Heir, was more than I had ever dared hope for my daughter.”

“Yes, Father,” Diamond whispered back, her gray eyes now wide and fixed upon her father’s face.

The two of them came together in a hug and, as Gerin withdrew, he caught sight of the sweets barrel behind Diamond.

“Ha!” he laughed, while blinking away tears. “Do you remember when you were a little lass, and used to perch upon that barrel until I gave you some of the sweets within it?”

Diamond laughed clearly as well and answered with a smile, “Yes, Father.”

“Do you suppose -- that is, would your husband mind if -- ?” Gerin tried to ask, his eyes flicking once more to the barrel.

“He--,” Diamond thought, then continued, “he has not said he would forbid it.” She smiled and held her hands out to her father, who lifted her carefully about the waist and set her on the half-lid which covered a portion of the top of the barrel.

“It -- it is rather smaller than I remembered,” Diamond said as she squirmed, then, “Oh!” she cried out as she tipped backward and fell into the open half.

“Lass!” Gerin cried, while from his vantage point, Pippin ducked farther behind the shelves and covered his laughs with his hand. Composing himself, he strode forward to where a flustered Gerin was trying to extricate his daughter.

“Sir! C--,” Gerin began, looking helplessly from Pippin to Diamond, whose own face grew even redder than it had been from the exertions of kicking against her petticoats.

Pippin merely nodded to Gerin, his lips pressed hard together but a twinkle in his eye, and silently lifted his wife out of the barrel to stand her upon her feet.

He scooped out a handful of the paper-wrapped molasses taffies the barrel contained, and placed them upon the counter. “It seems,” he said, “that my wife shall go to great lengths for these.”


Diamond awakened in the night to find Captain Peregrin’s place beside her empty. She sat up, and caught sight of him perched on the windowsill of her childhood room, one knee drawn up under his nightshirt, the other leg dangling down, and the stars and the moonlight filtering through the branches to shine upon him.

“Husband?” she called softly. “Is aught amiss?”

Pippin slowly turned his head toward her and shrugged. “’Tis naught but the old trouble,” he said. “You may sleep this night if you wish.”

Diamond rose from the bed and pulled on her dressing gown to join him at the window. She ran her eyes over the scattered contents that remained on the bookshelf below it.

“I am sorry we do not have a game of draughts in this smial,” she said.

“’Tis no matter,” Pippin said, and shrugged again. “I was looking -- looking at some of your things,” he said, and reached into the top shelf to withdraw a worn paper marked in squares, with designs of flowers traced upon it. “What’s this, then?” he asked, holding it out to Diamond.

“Oh,” she answered, smiling softly as she traced her finger across the edge of the paper opposite to the one Pippin held, “it is a pattern for stitching.”

“Did you create it, then?” Pippin asked, still holding the paper and looking upon his wife’s face.

“Yes, husband,” she answered, staring still at the pattern.

“So, do you do that sort of thing -- create the patterns yourself?” Pippin asked.

“I had once thought I might,” Diamond answered, then lifted her gaze away to stare out the window. “When I was a younger lass, and had time to think on such things.”


When it came time to depart, Gerin and Honeysuckle did hug their daughter goodbye, and Gerin shook Pippin’s hand before the family bowed and he said,

“Be well, Captain Peregrin, Mistress Diamond.”

“Remember,” Ganelon added, his eyes carefully fixed upon neither face, “a mighty family stands behind you.”


Diamond stood before the door to the Thain’s quarters, not long after their return to the Smials. She held her sewing basket clutched in her hand.

“Do you think you could stitch me a new pair of braces?” Captain Peregrin had asked. “I should like them after this pattern, if you don’t mind,” he added, and produced from a pocket the paper he’d found in Diamond’s room in the North Farthing.

“Perhaps,” he’d continued deliberately, “you should sit with my mother as you stitch them.” He grinned. “Ask her to tell you stories of her lad.”