Chapter Ten: “Clarity”

Diamond emerged from the Thain’s quarters, clutching her sewing basket in her hand. The braces were near to done, and the stories her husband had told her to ask his mother for had proved both entertaining and enlightening.

“...so Pad had hold of one of his braces, and I had the other one, and we were both trying to keep from laughing while Pippin dangled over the table between us.

“He’d spilled his milk by kicking it when we made our grabs to keep him from falling after he stood up in his chair. And Pervinca was still upset about spilling her food onto the cloth as well, even though Pippin hadn’t actually managed to get any of it when he lunged.

“Pad got hold of himself first, and he took the lad in hand whilst I took the lass. I don’t remember what Pad said, but Pippin was loud enough that I clearly heard him answer, ‘Well, if she’s going to call me a piglet, then I should get her slops!’”

Diamond smiled softly and shook her head as she moved down the corridor. As much as she could not imagine anyone now daring to call her noble husband such names, she felt that learning of his childhood was helping her to better know and understand him.

Healer Willow, her errand in another room complete, nodded approvingly at the young Mistress as she turned the far corner. Perhaps ‘twas time...


The old healer poked her head in the office of the Thain’s Heir after receiving a “Come in!” in response to her soft knock.

“Yes?” Pippin asked, looking up from the papers strewn on his desk. His curls were disarranged in every direction, as if he had been running his hands through them.

“’Tis Healer Willow, sir,” she said in response to his puzzlement. “I wonder if I might have a word with you?”

“Oh, aye, I suppose, though I don’t believe I am ill.” Pippin chuckled as he feigned taking his own temperature by putting a hand to his brow.

“Unless,” he suddenly sobered, and put his hands flat upon the desk before glancing at the wall which bordered both his father’s study and his own, “you have come to speak of...” He trailed off, leaving Willow to finish as she settled her old bones into the chair before his desk.

“I am the lasses’ healer,” Willow said, though she took note of the direction of the Heir’s look, and filed it away among her confidences to keep. “’Tis about your wife.”

“My wife?” Pippin echoed, stunned. “Is -- is Diamond not well?” he asked worriedly, scrunching a paper beneath his palm.

“She -- has asked me for assistance,” Willow answered, treading carefully with her words. “I am sorry, sir,” she said with sincerity, “but you know I canna speak of what she spoke.”

“Aye,” Pippin agreed readily, the furrow between his brows becoming more pronounced as his confusion grew. “But then what is it you wish of me? Should I speak to her mysel’?” he asked, and began rising from his chair.

“Nay, sir.” Willow stayed him with both a word and a hand stretched before her. “Nay, that dinna be necessary. ‘Tis something you could do to help her, though.”

“And what’s that, then?” Pippin asked, relaxing slightly.

“I ha’e noticed some improvement in -- her problem -- since the two of you returned from the North Farthing,” Willow said. “I should think another trip about the Shire would do some good as well.”

“Oh,” Pippin said dully. “So you think she should return to her parents’, then?” As much as he did not wish to return to Oatbarton so soon, he found himself surprised to discover that he would miss Diamond if he sent her off.

“Nay, sir.” Willow smiled inwardly as she caught the disappointment. “I dinna say that was the case. I think, perhaps--,” she brought an age-spotted hand before her face to clear her throat.

“Aye?” Pippin asked, now leaning slightly forward.

“--perhaps, ‘twould work just as well for her to see some parts of the Shire she hasna seen. I believe you ha’e some friends in other parts?”

“Hmm,” said Pippin, now leaning back. “There is a matter of business I could attend in Buckland for Da,” he said as if to himself. “He doesna feel he should travel just now...”

Willow allowed herself another inward smile as the Heir broke off into his own thoughts.


No matter how much laughter and noise the jollity of the Gamgees and their little ones filled Bag End with, Pippin always felt there was an undercurrent of silence -- a noise that was missing. It had been six years since he’d heard Frodo’s voice.

The present Master of Bag End stood behind him now, beaming proudly as Pippin crouched by the cradle to examine the new Merry-lad.

“’Tis a fine babe, Sam,” Pippin remarked with unusual solemnity.

“Don’t you worry none, Mr. Pippin,” Sam chortled above his shoulder. “I’m sure there’ll be a Pippin-lad come along afore too long.”

“No, there won’t!” Pippin responded in a low but bitter tone.

Sam’s mouth hung open in shock.

Pippin stared at the babe a long moment more and then turned his head. Catching sight of Sam’s expression, he flushed and then stuttered. “Oh! I -- I’m sorry, Sam. O’ course, you should know o’ your own babes.” He pasted a smile on his face and rose, pushing past the Mayor. “’Scuse me, Sam,” Pippin said. “I just need to get some air a minute.”

He left behind in his wake a bewildered Sam, who leaned over the cradle to tell the happy infant, “Well, there’s somethin’ amiss there, and that’s a fact.”


Diamond watched Mistress Rose’s hands fly deftly about the kitchen as she prepared a meal, her feet expertly skirting the small hobbits who played upon the floor. She had been surprised to learn that the Mayor and his wife had no servants save for the assistance of the Mayor’s sister May. It seemed she had been staying at Bag End for a time after the birth of the newest babe, but had recently returned to her own smial in Bywater. She still made regular trips to Bag End, though, “to help with what needs doin’,” according to Mistress Rose.

“’Course, I doubt she’ll be comin’ by whiles the two of you are a-visitin’,” Rose laughed as she placed a few apples and a paring knife in front of Diamond, “as I’ll have all the extra hands I’ll need.”

Diamond watched, bemused, for a moment as Mistress Rose turned back to the counter and began to tear a large cabbage into smaller chunks, then picked up the knife and began to peel and slice the apples. Except, upon occasion, for Captain Peregrin, she had not been treated with such familiarity since she left home in the spring. It felt -- comfortable.

In fact, despite the lack of servants or any obvious trappings of wealth, like the mannerisms Diamond’s own family clung to, or the decor and fine clothes that bedecked the Great Smials, the Gamgees and their hole seemed quite pleasant. Cheerful. Happy.

Perhaps, Diamond thought as her knife stilled and the ribbon-length of apple skin she had unpeeled curled slowly toward a pan beneath her hands, these wonderfully plump, laughing children were the cause of that happiness. Or, perhaps, they were its effect.

Rose was still tearing cabbage into a bowl, mixing it about with a dressing of vinegar, sugar, salt and cream. The older two children played a pretend game of their own in a corner of the kitchen, but the younger lass was clutching onto one of her mother’s legs. Her fingers were in her mouth and her eyes were wide as she stared at the strange hobbitess sitting at the table. Diamond could see the movements of Rose’s limb beneath her skirts as she gently swayed it back and forth while crooning a nonsensical song.

“Lavender’s green, Diddle diddle,
Lavender’s blue.
You must love me, Diddle diddle,
‘cause I love you.
I heard one say, Diddle diddle,
since I came hither,
That you and I, Diddle diddle,
must lie togither.

Call up your maids, Diddle diddle,
set them to work,
Some to make hay, Diddle diddle,
some to the rock.

Some to make hay, Diddle diddle,
some to the corn.
Whilst you and I, Diddle diddle,
keep the bed warm.

Let the birds sing, Diddle, diddle,
and the lambs play,
We shall be safe, Diddle, diddle,
out of harm’s way.”*

At the song’s conclusion, Rose bent down to hand her daughter a hard crust of bread to gnaw upon and shooed the little lass toward her brother and sister.

“Mistress Diamond?” she asked quizzically. “Are you feelin’ all right?”

“Oh. Yes, I am fine, thank you, Mistress Rose,” Diamond said, regaining her composure. “That was a lovely song,” she added, her eyes following the path of the toddler across the kitchen.

“Why, thank you, yourself, then,” Rose said as she began chopping finely the carrots that lay next to her bowl. “And it’s just Rose, is fine.”

Diamond turned her own attention back to the apple and moved the knife a bit more as she asked softly, “Rose. I wonder if I could ask you a question?”

Rose caught something in the voice and stilled her chopping a moment but did not turn back around. “Of course,” she said as gently and kindly as she was able.

“You have such lovely children,” Diamond commented. “Would you have any advice -- Captain Peregrin and I -- that is, we --”

She was interrupted by Pippin hustling through the doorway, his eyes coming to light on a bowl of string beans, which he grabbed.

“Hullo, Rose. Diamond,” he said. “I’ll just go and snap these in the garden for you then, shall I?” he said and made to go out the door with the bowl.

“Husband, you needn’t--” Diamond began, starting to rise from her chair.

Pippin shrugged her off. “’Twill give me aught to do with my hands,” he said agitatedly as he left the smial.

Rose chopped the last of the carrots with quick and heavy strokes of the knife, throwing them in on top of her cabbage. She then turned toward the table to collect Diamond’s apple slices.

“Well, in answer to your question you asked,” she said with kind exasperation, “you could start by calling him ‘Pippin’ as near to everyone else does!”

Diamond looked at her dumbly, and Rose snatched the last apple from her hand just as the final bit of peel gave way and the ribbon of skin fell into the pan of water with a plop. Both hobbitesses glanced down to watch it uncurl into its final shape.

The kitchen the next morning was again crowded with hobbits and with laughter. Diamond’s husband had gone to join the Gamgees there while she dressed.

As she approached the doorway, he was standing and leaning against the wall that ran perpendicular to it, absently rubbing the heel of a foot against a slight indentation in the plastering. His strange mood of the evening before seemed to have passed, and he was laughing as Mistress Rose and Mayor Sam recited another ditty:

“Young Sir Pippin he built a fine hall,
Pie-crust and pastry-crust, that was the wall;
The windows were made of black pudding and white,
And slated with griddle-cakes, you ne’er saw the like.”**

“’Tis a fine menu, Sam!” Pippin called out as he laughed. “Shall we have all that this morning, Rose?”

She airily waved a batter-covered spoon at him as Pippin caught sight of Diamond in the doorway.

“It sounds a fine menu indeed,” she smiled at him. “Pippin.”

Her husband’s face grew even brighter.


Laughter could be heard at this meal as well, softly echoing through the Brandy Hall dining room above the clink of forks and spoons against the plates. The Tooks’ travels had taken them on to Buckland, and after leaving their things at the Crickhollow smial, they had journeyed on to the Hall.

They would return to Crickhollow for the night, to the room where Diamond had been surprised to see an oddly bulging pouch upon the bed as they entered. Her husband had lifted an eyebrow as well as he carried in the bags and Mistress Estella informed him with mock severity, her arms akimbo,

“Strewn about indeed, Pippin! You should see some of the things I found in corners after you’d gone. Why, there were even some marbles that rolled out of the closet and near tripped me when I swept up after you last Astron.”

“Ah, but Estella,” Pippin had grinned cheekily as he set the bags down and sat on the bed next to the pouch, picking it up to wave at his cousin’s wife, “you know you’d been waiting for years to poke about and see what I had hid in this room.”

This was the first Diamond had learned that her husband’s return to the Great Smials had been so recent. She had surmised, from hints dropped in conversation, that he had once lived in Buckland, but had assumed it was years ago. She had kept her surprise to herself, though, and maintained her composure as she accompanied Captain Peregrin to the Hall, taking her leave when he began to discuss with Master Saradoc and Captain Meriadoc the reports of Buckland’s harvests, and the preparations for the winter.

Diamond had accompanied Estella on a walk through the grounds at this time. The other hobbitess prattled cheerily on about Brandy Hall and its occupants, stopping occasionally in this discourse to answer a soft question Diamond might pose about one of the plants or flowers. Many were different from those at the Great Smials, or in the lush gardens of Bag End, and Diamond was fascinated once again to see such new things to her experience.

Estella’s answers could be detailed on the plants that were of use for food, or imparting a pleasant smell to a smial, but she was less knowledgeable of their other properties. Still, when it was time to return for supper, she reached for Diamond’s palm and swung their hands between them as they walked.

Mistress Estella was now seated the other side of Captain Peregrin from the seat Diamond held at the head table, and alternated her attention between contributing to their discussion and leaning forward or back around Captain Peregrin to address Diamond. Various other conversations went on around them.

A young servant lass -- not one of the dining room’s servers -- suddenly appeared before the head table, thrusting a piece of parchment out before her.

“Here you go, sir,” she said with a grin to Pippin, and Diamond frowned slightly to see that there was not even an attempt at a curtsy. “Vi’let said as you’d left this behind at the meetin’, and that you’d be wantin’ it.”

Estella laughed as she saw Pippin glance from the servant lass to Diamond, his hand not reaching for the parchment.

“Oh, come on, Pip,” she cackled loudly, giving his upper arm a playful shove so that the water sloshed in the glass he held in the other hand. “You’ll have your litter and mathoms strewn all over the Shire if you keep this up, and all the poor maids will have to follow in your wake to clean up after you -- not, I’m sure, that they’d mind!” she added with an exaggerated wink at the servant.

The lass standing before them grinned broadly, and Pippin colored slightly, but it was Diamond who spoke, reaching to take the paper in her own hands and saying to the servant,

“Thank you, lass, for assisting Captain Peregrin with this business of the Thain’s. Would it be possible,” she added sweetly, “for you to take Mistress Estella’s plate back to the kitchens and exchange it? These servings appear to be having an unfortunate impact upon her head.”

The servant gulped, and glanced at Estella, but that hobbitess was shocked into silence, the noise level around her dipping as well, until she began to splutter and Merry put a restraining hand on her arm, his blue eyes looking coldly beyond her.

Captain Peregrin seemed intently fascinated with the food on his own plate as the servant took Estella’s and made a slight curtsy as she fled to Diamond, who inclined her head in return.


They departed the table shortly after, to a destination that, again, took Diamond by surprise. “I thought we’d take a short jaunt this eve,” Pippin said as he leaned forward to tug at the rowboat tethered along the riverbank.

“I saved you some walnut cakes from supper,” he grinned, withdrawing a paper-wrapped package from a different pocket than the one he’d placed the parchment in and waving it in front of him. “And I know just the spot to eat them,” he said, still grinning, as he placed the package upon one of the seats in the boat and held out a hand to his wife.

Diamond swallowed and stepped forward, allowing herself to be handed into the boat as well.

It was safe. Captain Peregrin said it was safe, she told herself as her hands clutched tightly to either side of the boat, the packet of cakes on her lap, while Pippin rowed. He is an honest hobbit. He said it was safe. It has to be safe.

She gave a start and a small squeal at a splash by the side of the boat.

Pippin laughed softly. “’Twas just a fish,” he informed her. “As we’ve other food along, and there’s naught in the Brandywine the size to tip our boat, I’d say we’re safe to pay him nevermind.”

The strong motion of his arms against the oars slowed and then ceased as he allowed the boat to float into a small pool shaded with trees, their multi-colored leaves floating upon the water.

Diamond gave another small gasp, this one of surprise and delight, as what she had at first taken to be an additional outcropping on one of the rocks protruding near the shore detached itself. The noise of their entrance into the pool was apparently enough to startle, and the gleaming dark of the turtle’s shell glistened as it slid into the water.

Pippin followed her gaze to the disappearing reptile, and was pleased to see that she had relaxed a bit.

“Merry showed me this spot,” he said, resting the ends of the oars in his lap. “He used to take lasses here.”

“And did you, hu-- Pippin?” Diamond ventured to ask, seeing the faraway look in his eyes. “Did you take lasses here as well?”

He shook his head and seemed to come back to the moment, grinning as he ducked his face. “Not afore this,” he replied.

“It is lovely,” Diamond said after a moment of silence, and slowly, carefully withdrew her hands from the boat sides to break open the packet of cakes and offer one out to her boating partner.


Upon their return to Crickhollow, Merry was waiting to speak to Pippin, while Diamond continued on to the bed chamber.

“Pip,” Merry said, his voice shaking with suppressed emotion as he clutched at the top of a kitchen counter. “Did you see what that Diamond-lass did to Estella at supper tonight?”

Pippin sighed and shuffled from foot to foot. “Aye, Merry, I did,” he said, looking at the floor.

“We should ask,” Merry said sternly, his eyes boring into Pippin, “that you speak to your wife!” he snapped.

Pippin dragged his head up and sighed again. “Aye, Merry, I will.”

Diamond had turned down the bed and was fluffing her pillow as Pippin entered the room. “Pip-- Husband?” she said, when she looked up and saw his face. “What is wrong?”

Pippin swallowed. “Merry asked me to speak to you about what happened at supper with Estella,” he said uncomfortably.

“Yes, husband,” Diamond acknowledged in a bare whisper, lowering her face toward the pillow she still clutched.

Pippin softly crossed the room and lifted her chin so her gray eyes met his green.

“Thank you,” he said.

Diamond’s eyes widened as he continued. “’t has upset Merry and Estella for the moment, I fear, but I hope they shall soon see reason. Aye, things’ve changed, and are changing,” he added, then stared briefly away before returning his eyes to Diamond’s.

“’Twas somethin’ that needed to be done, if I’m to keep the respect of the Shire, and for me to do ‘t, ‘twould have been...well, ‘twould have been awkward,” he trailed off, his eyes straying to the pouch of his old belongings which now sat upon a chair.


Diamond awoke in the night to the familiar sensation of movement from the other side of the bed.

“Pippin?” she called softly, placing a hand upon his arm.

He stirred again, then sat up, reaching out to light and turn up the flame on a lamp that sat near the bed. He flung himself back down on his pillow, an arm laid across his forehead.

“’m sorry,” he murmured, and Diamond could see tear tracks still upon his face. “I s’pose we should travel with draughts,” he said, looking at her with a small flicker of hope in his eyes.

“Hmm,” Diamond said as she propped herself on one elbow to survey the room. “Is there a full set of the marbles, do you think?” she asked as she looked at the pouch.

“Aye, I’m sure there’s plenty,” Pippin replied, his voice now reflecting curiosity and anticipation. “Why?”

“It is a game I once learned in the North Farthing,” Diamond smiled.

After they had gathered the marbles -- some from the pouch, and some from a smaller bag Pippin had retrieved from even farther in the recesses of the closet -- she began arranging the whites, the reds, the blues, the greens, the yellows, and the grays into six separate triangles upon the bedsheets. They formed the outline of a star.

“The object of the game,” she explained, “is for the pieces of each player’s color to gain control of the star point directly opposite.”


Merry and Pippin were alone in the kitchen again the next morn. Estella had run to an outbuilding, and Diamond had not yet emerged.

“So?” Merry said bluntly, then asked with suspicion. “I though I heard you two giggling last night.”

Pippin smiled to himself as he recalled the challenges of playing what seemed to him a North Farthing version of draughts as the marbles rolled among the bedsheets, and without a board for markings. “We were playing a game,” he answered.

“So?” Merry asked again. “Did you speak to her?”

“Aye,” Pippin said, and the smile faded as he squared his shoulders back and took a deep breath before seriously looking his cousin in the eyes. “I told her ‘thank you,’” he said. “On behalf of the Tooks and the Thain.”

Merry held his eyes for a moment before dropping his own gaze to look away.


The day was warmer than many in autumn, and the lads had decided to pay another visit to the river, this time for a swim. The lasses sat farther up the bank, their stitching along to keep them occupied.

Diamond had concealed one of Healer Willow’s books beneath her knitting, and her eyes occasionally skimmed its pages during silences from Estella. The Brandybuck hobbitess was giving in to such petulances upon occasion, but could not appear to keep her tongue still for long. When she chattered, Diamond would smile and nod as her knitting needles clicked.

“Well, Pip,” Merry said as they splashed near the water’s edge, his earlier animosity gone, “no matter how much good her manners do you in public, I’m glad to see that she’s stopped calling you ‘husband’ all the time, as it was at Lithe.”

“Oh,” Pippin shrugged and stroked lazily across the pool. “I don’t mind it, really, from time to time.”

“Oh, really?” Merry rolled his eyes from where he floated on his back, then waited a beat before adding, “Husband.”

“Merry!” Pippin laughingly protested, purposefully splashing water across his cousin. “Not from you! You don’t have,” he stood in the water and cocked his head to one side, critically examining Merry’s protruding tummy as he poked a hand toward it, “the figure for it.”

Diamond looked up from her book at the sound of her husband’s delighted shrieks. Captain Meriadoc had hold of him by the waist and was whirling him about on the riverbank, droplets of water flying off both their gleaming bare chests as they laughed.

Her breath caught in her throat and she continued staring, her fingers trapped in her book as its last few words ran through her mind.

“Adamantine packed the hamper with all sorts of delicacies, as she knew the place Rufus had proposed for their picnic along the Shirebourne was a favorite trysting spot.”

Diamond’s mind flashed back to the boating excursion of the evening before. Plying her with nuts and sweets, gifting her with jewels, guiding her hands at games...it suddenly occurred to her, with perfect clarity, that even though they be already wed, her husband -- Captain Peregrin -- Pippin -- was courting her, just as the lads did the lasses in her books.

Her eyes drank in the sight of him standing bare-chested upon the riverbank, laughing as he shook the water from his curls. A secret thrill ran through her.


_________
*”Diddle, Diddle, Or, The Kind Country Lovers,” British broadside, ca. 1672-1685
**Traditional nursery rhyme, adapted.