Chapter 16: Anniversary Band

“Uncle Pippin!”

“Hmm?” Pippin responded to the accusation. “Yes, what is’t, Aster?” he asked, crouching down to be more on a level with the tiny hobbitess that stared up at him. Her feet were planted firm and far apart on the corridor floor,and her arms were akimbo, hands resting on her hips.

“Are you better?” Aster asked in the same challenging tone.

“Better?” Pippin blinked.

“Mama said you wasn’t feeling good, so you had to stay in your room,” the eleven-year-old informed him suspiciously.

“Oh.” Pippin realized now ‘twas a bit strange that he hadn’t received more questions when he finally emerged from his quarters in time for tea, but he had been so ravenously hungry that he hadn’t had mind for much else beyond what was on his plate. The tray laden with cheeses and fruits he’d found at his bedside when he awakened had helped, of course, but still...

“Oh!” he said again, as his memories of the darkness from the night before began to clear. “Yes, Aster,” he informed his little niece in a softer tone. “I am feeling better. Thank you for asking.”

“Good!” she stated emphatically, her long curls bobbing up and down her back as she nodded. “Then don’t make any more noise!” She stomped one foot for emphasis.

“I--” Pippin began, nonplused, only to be interrupted by Everard’s appearance in the corridor.

“Aster!” he chided in gentle remonstrance. “You’re supposed to walk out of the dining hall with me when you’re done with tea.”

Quickly and indignantly, the lass replied, “But, Da, I looked at you when I got done and you didn’t wave back, so I didn’t think you were going to wait by the door like you’re supposed to.”

Everard, Pippin could see, was still puzzling over this sequence of logic, his brow furled and his mouth working, but Aster had already returned to her earlier topic.

“Da, Uncle Pippin says he isn’t going to make any more noise!” she announced, and stomped her foot again for good measure.

“Er...,” Pippin said, and blushed as he straightened up to stand from his crouching position.

“Did you have a bad dream because you were sick?” Aster continued chattering on, now placing a hand on Pippin’s trouser leg as she looked up at him in concern. “Did Aunt Diamond take care of you? Mama takes care of me when I have a bad dream.”

“Me, too,” Everard chimed in eagerly, happy to be contributing to the conversation again. “Except,” he stage whispered as he leaned close to Pippin’s ear above the child’s head, “sometimes Nellie takes care of me in ways that Aster can’t know about, because she’s too young!” Everard had a delighted grin on his face as he pulled back from Pippin, who smiled indulgently -- if a bit uncomfortably -- back at him.

“Yes,” he smiled truly back down at Aster. “Yes, Aunt Diamond does take very good care of me.”

Aster, who had caught the words of her father’s statement if not their meaning, scowled a bit as she pulled back and folded her arms across her chest. “Is she old enough for everything, then?” the little lass asked.

“Well,...,” Pippin began, and then came to a sudden realization as he was speaking and burst into a bright, clear laugh.

“Yes! Yes, she is old enough for everything!” he laughed again as he swung his niece up in his arms, kissed her forehead, and deposited her into her father’s embrace before returning to his brisk walk down the corridor, whistling as he went.

Everard and Aster watched him go, and the lass leaned her head against her father’s shoulder, secure in her place in his arms. Everard held on tightly -- but not too tight! He didn’t want to crush her, he didn’t, but Everard had always known it was very, very important not to drop a little hobbit.

“Da?” Aster asked quietly. “What’s wrong with Uncle Pippin?”

Everard furrowed his brow for a moment again, then shrugged, lifting his daughter with his arms as he did so. “He’s just funny like that,” he responded.


“Diamond!” Pippin called out eagerly as he entered their quarters -- to be met with silence.

“Diamond!” he shouted again as he burst into the bed chamber -- only to find it, too, unoccupied.

Pippin plunked down upon the still-unmade bed, the back of his heel catching upon the hard corner of something which stuck out from the storage drawer underneath Diamond’s side of the bed. He started to lean forward to see what it was but then changed his mind, determined to exhibit the trust he’d tried to show her the morn after their wedding -- why, nearly a year ago, ‘twas! He leaned back again until he was lying crosswise on the bed, and carefully pushed the drawer closed with his feet, knocking the overhanging something in.

He swung both feet then, idly, tapping them in a rhythm upon the bed frame, and turned his head toward the empty tray lying among the sheets. Pippin wet one finger in his mouth and used the wetness to help the crumbs of cheese stick as he ran that finger over the tray. It received sufficient re-wetting as he sucked off the crumbles of cheese and of what -- he lifted his head to peer more intently at the additional crumbs amongst the sheets -- yes, of what was definitely the remains of shortbread biscuits.

Pippin thus kept his hands, his feet, and his tongue all occupied as he lay back in thought. After all, it seemed Diamond had put about that he was feeling a mite under the weather, and if he hadn’t evinced any sort of recovery until teatime, he shouldn’t have any duties to attend this day.

Duties. Pippin sighed, then snorted as this caused the cheese and biscuit crumbs to kerfuffle in his nose and throat. Once the coughing settled down, he relaxed again. This time the sigh was only inward. Duties. Likely that was where the lass was: performing the duties she’d acquired upon marrying him.

Pippin licked his lips of the cheese flavor, then winced, “Ow!” having forgotten with the subsequent bite that it was only crumbs in his mouth and managing to pinch the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

He wondered, his feat beating nervous tattoos upon the bed frame, if Diamond would have wanted to marry him if her family had not convinced her of her duty to do so. If he were not the Heir to the Thain. If, perhaps, she would wish to hear more of the tales from his journey.

Last night -- last night she had held him. And she kissed him softly. And -- and she told him she loved him. Pippin squeaked a small noise, and only coughed a little bit at the small amount of cheese in his throat this time, and wiped at the moisture in his eyes, then hugged himself tight as he continued to vigorously swing his feet. ‘Twas hard to believe something so simple should make such a grown hobbit as himself so nervous!

The door to the bed chamber squeaked open, and Pippin sat up hastily, brushing at his shirt front in case any more crumbs had fallen there.

“Hu-- Pippin?” Diamond asked cautiously as she peered into the room. She glanced, concerned, at the empty tray. “Are you well? Should you like me to send for your tea?”

“I am well,” Pippin smiled lopsidedly at her . “Come in,” he beckoned with his hand. “You dinna need to stand in the doorway all day.”

Diamond slowly entered the room and moved to sit upon the bed next to Pippin.

As she lowered herself onto the bed, Pippin jumped up and began pacing alongside the furniture. He ran one hand through his curls, and with the other gestured toward the tray.

“Thank you for the tray,” he said, and his words then tumbled out quickly. “And for last night, and for listening, and -- and for everything, I guess. Well and thank you for offering to send for tea, too, but I did have tea, you know -- I went to the dining hall, but I didn’t see you there, but I did see Aster in the corridor
later and she asked me if I was feeling better so I knew you had spread it about that I was feeling poorly -- and thank you for that, too, and -- did you get any tea?” Pippin suddenly stopped his agitated pacing and looked, concerned, at Diamond.

“Yes,” she answered simply, where she sat perched on the bed, her hands folded primly in her lap. “I took tea today with Nellie.”

“Oh, well that’s all right, then,” Pippin breathed out in relief, but he then started pacing and talking again before Diamond, her mouth still open, could add that Mistress Eglantine had also been at tea. Nor could she add that, while she herself had not revealed much of Pippin’s words from the previous night, neither could she learn much of his travels beyond the Shire from his mother or his sister.

“...and then Everard came along, and he said something about Aster not being old enough for -- for some things,” Pippin stuttered and blushed on these words, “and then Aster asked me if you were old enough, and it reminded me and so I wanted to ask how you should like to celebrate your birthday, for you will come of age on the sixth of Astron!” Pippin concluded eagerly, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet as he came to a stop in pacing to stand in front of Diamond, his hands twisting together behind his back.

“I--,” Diamond began, then blinked. This was not at all the conversation she has been expecting after the previous night. Although, she thought as she fought to tamp down the uncontrollable giggles that threatened to escape, she ought not to expect anything in particular from her dear husband. He always seemed capable of surprising her. Diamond was perfectly willing to follow Pippin down any of his paths; it’s just that she sometimes had trouble keeping up!

“Of course!” she smiled softly and at Pippin, and laughed quietly. “Coming of age! Why, it seems as if I’ve already been doing many of the things a grown hobbitess ought. It feels as if I’ve been treated like a hobbitess who is of age for nearly a year now.”

She smiled still, but she cast her eyes down to her lap, and Pippin swallowed against a lump in his throat.

He knelt quickly before her and took her hands in his. It was Pippin’s turn to look down at their entwined hands as he spoke, while Diamond raised her eyes to his face.

“I -- I know what that’s like, and I’m sorry you had to experience it, too,” he said, wringing his fingers around her hands. “I wasn’t but a lad of 28 when we went on the Quest, and when we came back to the Shire...well, some still thought of me as a lad who was just a wee hobbit, but most treated me as grown, as Captain Peregrin, and they didn’t think it mattered that I wasn’t yet of age.

“But I hadn’t reached my majority!” Pippin exclaimed, and looked up at last to meet Diamond’s eyes. “And you haven’t, either! And ‘tis important! And...and I should like for you to celebrate in whatever manner you wish, and to want for nothing you could possibly desire.” His eyes dropped again upon this last sentence, and his voice lowered, becoming much like the whispers of the preceding night, although without the same quality of fear and strain, as he added, “for I love you, too.”

His heart and his stomach tripped with butterflies at Diamond’s lack of an immediate response, and Pippin hastened to add -- ashamed of himself in a way, but just in case that truly was why she cared for him, “And, of course, because you shall be the Mistress of the Shire some day.”

Diamond, only barely conscious of her hands still retained in Pippin’s grip, did not even hear these last words. She, instead, was stunned by the others that still buzzed about her ears: “for I love you, too.”

Was this how Pippin had felt when she had said the same to him? No, it could not be, for he had fallen asleep soon after, and Diamond could not imagine ever doing such a thing again. She had thought perhaps she had been able to imagine the experience when the hobbits in her books had said the words to their hobbitesses, but Diamond knew she could not hope to be so fortunate that Captain Peregrin would feel toward her in such a way as to say those words. And now that he had, it...’twas indescribable!

“Diamond?” Pippin asked hesitantly, peeking up at her again.

“Pippin!” she responded, and surprised even herself by throwing her arms about his neck and kissing him eagerly.

When they finally broke apart for breath, each pair of eyes was shining, and both were smiling shyly.

“Oh, Pippin,” Diamond said, her arms still wrapped loosely about his neck, while his held her waist. “I believe I should like to celebrate my birthday at an occasion where I may dance with my husband,” she informed him.

“A party!” Pippin echoed, and broke into a wide grin and a laugh, “’Twill be grand!”


“Grand indeed, is it not?” asked Gerin North-Took with a pleased smile as held the invitation out before him.

It was written upon the same fine parchment as the wedding invitation — a handsome calligraphy in black ink, upon a dove-gray background. Perhaps, Gerin thought, this was a custom tied to the line of the Thain. What bode well for his own line, and for the future of his eldest daughter, was the new addition to the corners of the invitation: diamonds embossed in silver.

“And well it should be grand,” added Gerin’s son Ganelon in all seriousness. “If she is to be Mistress some day, she should have all the honor of the Shire.”

“Well,” Gerin chortled softly as he carefully arranged the invitation upon the shop’s counter so that any customers who knew their letters could not help but be drawn into reading it -- and perhaps some of those who did not would ask about it -- “Well,” he chortled, “we shall have the chance to see that sight for ourselves.”

“Indeed,” Ganelon agreed dryly. “Indeed we shall.”


“Pippin?” Diamond said one evening at supper. “I believe there is something else I should like to happen for my birthday.” She glanced at the bolt of chestnut-hued cloth which rested in the corner.

Catching the movement of her eyes, Pippin paused his fork midway to his mouth to ask, “Should you like a new frock, then? Diamond, you know you havena to ask permission for such things.”

True, it seemed a bit drab of a color for a party dress, but Pippin, despite his three sisters, didn’t pretend to understand the ways in which lasses made their clothing decisions. He just knew that they enjoyed making a great many such choices.

Diamond smiled to herself. She had, of course, already progressed on the new frock design she had chosen for herself to wear. If this occasion were to be as grand as her husband wished, she knew the importance of wearing clothing that would serve to favorably impress all the inhabitants of the Shire who would be invited. Clothes could make the hobbitess. Or the hobbit.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “I do know that.”

Pippin grabbed another spear of asparagus with his fork before raising his eyes again as he realized Diamond still sat as if waiting to say something.

“Hnh?” he inquired around the mouthful.

“I should like for you to have a new pair of breeches,” Diamond said, drawing in a deep breath and bracing her folded hands on her lap. “I should be glad to make them for you,” she added, looking down now to examine her hands.

Pippin hastily chewed and swallowed his asparagus, then took a swallow of water before replying with an unconcerned shrug, “Certainly, if you wish it. ‘Twill certainly be more convenient than a bothersome trip to the tailors’,” he added cheerfully, and took another sip from his water glass.

Diamond covered a small cough at this with a sip from her own water glass. It would not seem, she thought, that the tailors of the Shire had been much troubled by Pippin’s presence, if the state of most of his trousers could attest. Except for the clothing he had donned for their wedding -- and surely he would not plan to wear such gear for a mere birthday party, no matter if it was her thirty-third! -- aside from those breeches, Diamond had not seen any in his wardrobe that she thought were sufficiently formal for such warm weather occasions. And, of course, she considered as she cast a critical eye upon him while they finished their meal, he was uncommonly tall.

“I shall have to take your measurements,” she announced after supper was over and a cloth thrown over the dishes. “Perhaps,” she looked about the sitting room, “perhaps you should stand on this.” She dragged a footstool nearer to the light of the hearth.

“Er...all right,” Pippin said, and stepped up onto the footstool, one hand leaning lightly upon the mantel as Diamond rummaged for her measuring tape.

He blushed and shifted his weight abruptly when Diamond began to measure his inseam.

“Hold still, please,” she muttered around the tape clutched in her teeth, placing one hand on his thigh to still him and to steady herself as she used the other to write down a measurement.

“Oh. Aye.” Pippin cleared his throat against the sudden frog in it as he shifted his position back to where it had been. “Wait!” he croaked out in response to the knock on the door just as Diamond, louder, called “Enter!” having just removed the tape from her mouth.

“Sir? Mistress?” asked Sage from the doorway. “Should you like to come back in a bit for them?” She nodded toward the dishes upon the table. “It don’t make no nevermind to me.”

“No, Sage, we are quite finished, and you may go about your duties,” Diamond said as she rose from where she had knelt before the footstool, gathering her measuring tape and her skirts up with her.

Pippin nodded as he stepped down from the footstool, and waved a hand at the table while turning his front toward the hearth. “Aye...lass,” he said.

Diamond, having put her tape and notations down near the bolt of cloth, gave a small frown in the direction of his back. Pippin seemed to be taking an awfully long time to clear the frog from his throat, and he was fidgeting oddly upon his legs as he stood learning forward, his hands upon the mantel.

“Pippin?” she said, and took a few steps toward him while Sage cheerfully whistled a tuneful counterpoint to the clatter of dishes upon a cart.

“Ale!” Pippin breathed out and pushed himself off from the mantel quickly before she could reach him. “I think I shall have an ale with Da tonight,” he informed her hastily as he began sidling toward the door. “Or -- or maybe Everard,” he added in a rush. “I shall be back probably quite late,” he said upon reaching the door, and turned to almost run through it.

Diamond was left with a bewildered expression on her face, her hands fallen to her sides, as she watched him depart.

Sage shook her head once, then resumed, at a mite quieter level, her whistling as she worked. Nice enough they were to her, but these Took gentlehobbits were queer ducks, and no mistake!


“Welcome to the Great Smials, Father,” Diamond beamed from her place on Pippin’s arm as Gerin alit from the carriage and turned to assist her mother, who reached the ground with a small grunt that she tried to cover by lowering her face and her body into a deep curtsy. “Mother. I am so glad you could attend.”

As Honeysuckle raised her head, Diamond smiled glancingly at Pippin and then withdrew her arm from his to reach out and embrace her mother in a hug. “It is good to see you all again,” she said, followed by a clear laugh.

Honeysuckle gazed at her daughter in wonder, but her eyes also cast nervous glances at Pippin, who had stood smilingly beside Diamond throughout the greeting. Gerin, his bow accomplished, chortled a bit nervously and scratched at his curls with one hand. With the other he aimed occasional feeble pats that did not quite connect with the backs of either his wife or his daughter.

“Ganelon,” Pippin said, with a nod to the hobbit who came around the other side of the carriage, the younger lass following him. Those who did not know him well would never have detected that his smile suddenly held a note of caution in it.

Diamond blinked in surprise toward her husband before her mother quickly drew her attention back to say, with only a slight wheeze about her, “It is good to see you looking so well, my lass.” She murmured, “And I’m certain you know what a proper welcome it is for you to be giving.”

Jewel giggled, atwitter as she caught sight of Pippin, and blushed furiously, holding her skirts out as far from her sides as she could to form an impressive bell of fabric as she bobbed into a deep curtsy.

Her brother, meanwhile, uttered, “Captain Peregrin,” with syllable drawn out in response to Pippin’s greeting. He exaggerated his movements as he placed one arm before him and the other behind his back and bent in a bow.

Pippin exerted all the control he could and thought perhaps he had stopped his eartips from turning pink. Perhaps not, though, for Diamond did give him a strange look of surprise as she extricated herself from her mother and slipped her arm back into his for the walk back to the Smials.


It seemed as if at least as many hobbits as had come to see her wed were in attendance at Diamond’s birthday party. The yards of the Smials were again populated as far as the eye could see with hobbits in a gay mood and festive attire: laughing at others’ jests, talking about the latest gossip, shrieking joyfully as they ran playfully about, weaving through their elders’ legs, and, of course, eating from the plentiful food piled upon tables.

“Are you sure there are no others you should like to invite?” Diamond had softly asked her husband across the table as they compiled the invitations. “From other places, perhaps?” She held her breath waiting for the answer. Pippin had not yet spoken again of the strange names he had mentioned the night he told her of his dreams. She was eager to know more, but feared that she must not push too hard, lest she cause harm.

He had sat quietly for a few moments, the invitation he held in one hand dangling limply as he stared into the air. Finally, Pippin shook himself and smiled tremulously at Diamond before looking quickly back down at the invitation he now folded upon the table. He concentrated fiercely as he applied the sealing wax. “Nay,” he said quietly. “No others to invite.”

“Pip!” Fredegar Bolger said boisterously as he entered the grounds of the Smials, clapping the younger hobbit once on the back before enveloping him in a bear hug. “Where’s the pie?” he asked as he drew back from the hug and held the Took at arm’s length in front of him. “You cannot have a party without pie!”

“And well I know it, indeed!” laughed Pippin in return. “’Tis over there, Fatty,” he said, nodding to one of the tables. He grabbed the Bolger’s arm before he could depart. “But you canna walk away before you have greeted the birthday lass.”

“Fredegar Bolger, at your service,” he said and swept one leg out behind him into a surprisingly graceful bow for one of such girth.

“D--” she started to say, but Freddy continued talking as he caught one of Diamond’s hands in both of his and pressed it to his lips. “Charmed, I’m sure. You are indeed a lovely hobbitess and I am quite certain that your newly advanced years will do nothing to diminish that, but will only increase the fortitude you shall need in dealing with this young whelp to whom you are married.”

“I--” Diamond began and then stopped, stunned by this greeting into a complete loss of words.

Pippin, however, was not. “Freddy!” he laughed and gave the Bolger a playful shove as he was rising to his feet. “Go on with you and find the pie now, afore someone else hears that Fatty Bolger has his eyes upon it!”

Honeysuckle sipped at her mug from a quiet place a bit behind the punch bowl. Gerin was chatting with some other gentlehobbits, and Ganelon and Jewel were likewise amusing themselves amongst the party guests. And Diamond... Honeysuckle smiled and shook her head once, decisively, as she took another sip from her mug. Diamond.

My, her lass sure was pretty. Her curls were sparkling clean, and that frock she wore, with the cream-colored bodice that set off a bejeweled brooch and a full skirt with sprigs of flowers embroidered upon a background of brown to look as if the spring flowers were just newly blooming in the earth...well, there was no mistaking her daughter for any of the common hobbitesses present.

Honeysuckle squinted her eyes a bit at those embroidered flowers upon Diamond’s skirt as she twirled in a dance with Captain Peregrin. They -- and the design upon Captain Peregrin’s weskit that he wore above his brown breeches, too, come to think of it -- they looked awfully familiar. Oh! Of course, Honeysuckle smiled to herself and took another sip of punch. They looked like the stitching designs Diamond used to sketch out when she was a lass, before...before they’d begun training her for her marriage.

Honeysuckle huffed out a sigh, the smile fading from her face, and ran one finger along the edge of her mug before lifting her face back up once again to watch where Diamond and Pippin danced to the music of the band.

Well, she certainly seemed happy enough, Honeysuckle thought. And Diamond should never want for anything! she reminded herself fiercely and took a draw on her punch with a scowl. Why, someday she’d be the Mistress of the Shire! Honeysuckle sighed and let her glass down slowly again to look at Pippin.

Head thrown back and laughing while he danced, he certainly looked handsome enough, and she supposed that was important to a lass, especially such a young one as her Diamond. More important to Honeysuckle, though, was his position, and that he had seemed a kind and gentle hobbit in his dealings with her. He was willing to let Diamond have her fancies with the stitching, at any rate; that did bode well.

But, she sighed again, and shifted her mug to her other hand, placing her right upon her hip to warm it a little as she shook out her foot, he had his duties to fulfill as well. She hoped, perhaps, that he would be kind enough to grant Diamond rest between each bearing, as Gerin had for her.

She strayed her eyes to where Mistress Eglantine sat with the Thain, playing some game with the Master and Mistress of Buckland that had them slapping their hands about and laughing rather than dancing. Other hobbits joined in from time to time, and Honeysuckle had of course been invited to do so as well, but she had never taken well to learning such games.

She found, too, that she often did not know what to say to Mistress Eglantine. She had taken tea the day before with the Mistress, and had not known how to respond to the tale told of Captain Peregrin’s birth. Slipped right out, he did, as he was so small, his mother had said fondly.

Honeysuckle, looking now at the towering hobbit who danced with her daughter, found this hard to believe. Wistfully, she looked at Diamond and wished she could recall anything at all about the lass’s birth or the days which surrounded it.

Ganelon, now. She shuddered and drained the rest of her punch, holding tight to her hip and gasping as she removed the empty cup from her mouth. That amount of suffering she could never entirely forget, no matter how much she wished it so or how unclear the other details became with time.

Diamond. She looked again at her daughter, laughing now herself, Honeysuckle marveled to see, as she danced closely with Captain Peregrin, their noses almost touching as she tilted her head back and he looked down.

It’s to be a lad that’s required, so may she bear him a son first, and quickly! Honeysuckle fervently wished, tapping her cup to her lips once more, only to find it empty. At least, if more babes were to follow, she thought, any lasses would be lighter and easier to bear than a lad...although a hobbitess certainly shouldn’t know that from hearing Mistress Eglantine talk!

“Are you all right, Sam?” Merry asked as he swung one leg over the bench to sit astride it. The erstwhile gardener sat properly on the bench, facing the table where he nursed a mug of ale and attacked a plate piled high with all the trimmings of the feast. “With the party being on this date, and all?”

“Mr. Merry,” Sam said deliberately as he carefully set his mug down upon the table, “this is such a date for feastin’ that I can’t imagine anything as would make Mr. Frodo happier.” He drew one hand delicately across his upper lip to wipe the foam away, then began carefully stabbing at his peas with a fork. Failing to capture them upon the tines, he gave up and merely held the fork in one hand while using the fingers of the other to carefully pick up the little round spheres and bring them to his mouth.

“Yes. Well.” Merry said doubtfully, watching his friend’s actions. “Are you sure you’ll be all right, Sam? Without even Rosie around tonight?”

Sam shrugged, unconcerned, and reached for his ale mug again, letting his fork clatter to the table but maintaining the gentle grip he had on the pea in the other hand. “Rosie said she didn’t feel up to travellin’ around the Shire right now, with all them little ones wantin’ somethin’ of her all the time, and she knew as how you and Mistress Estella or some such would be about to make sure I got off all right,” he stated quite calmly.

Merry looked up to watch as Estella nodded at him before sliding onto the bench on the other side of Sam.

“Of course we will, Sam,” she said, laying one hand gently upon his arm as she used the other to withdraw the fork from where it rested, tines us, precariously near Sam’s elbow.

“Evenin’, Mistress Estella,” he nodded to her before popping another pea into his mouth. He swallowed before continuing.

“I was just sayin’ to Mr. Merry here that Rosie did want to make sure she passed along her best birthday wishes to Mr. Pippin’s young lass.” He nodded toward where the pair of Tooks now sat eating at the head table, Diamond’s birthday speech of welcome and thanks having been nicely short and to the point, to widespread appreciation.

Merry turned his own gaze in that direction and sighed. “Do you think Frodo would be happy about -- about that?” he asked, indicating Pippin and Diamond with his own nod while his hand played nervously with the edge of Sam’s napkin resting on the table.

“Mr. Merry,” Sam said, looking straight at that hobbit after another sip of ale. “Them two might’ve had what one could consider a rocky start, as you’d say, but now they’ve got to make the best of things.”

He turned his attention and his eyes back to his mug and his plate just as Merry turned to face him, mouth open to speak.

To his plate, and to himself, Sam muttered out loud, “Even if it were an uphill climb.”

Merry had a chance later to speak again to Pippin himself, drawing him away from the others.

“So, Pip?” he asked. “Have you given any more thought to travelling South?”

“Merry; I--” Pippin wavered, glancing around at all the hobbits in the yard.

“What? What is it, Pip?” Merry hissed in a loud whisper. “What’s keeping you here in the face of a chance to see your friends? In the face of an invitation from our King?” He nearly spat out the last two words, leaning close to Pippin’s face, and then drew back in time to catch sight of Diamond approaching and shoot her a baleful glance.

“You don’t have to bring her along if you don’t want to, Pip,” his words hurriedly tumbled out as he tried to finish them before Diamond drew near. “Just please, please come with me!” he pleaded.

“Dinna want?” Pippin puffed out in surprise and anger, forgetting for a moment that it had been mere weeks before he’d been unable to give Merry a satisfactory answer as to how he felt about this hobbitess. He took one step backward, away from his cousin, and placed his hands on his hips.

“Now, see here, Meriadoc,” he responded sharply, “Diamond has just as much right to see the King as any hobbitess, and she deserves to come along on such a trip as much as Estella does. Maybe more!” he added indignantly.

Merry’s own hackles raised a bit at the “maybe more” comment, but he was spared from responding by the interruption of a gasp from Diamond, who had drawn near enough in time to catch Pippin’s last few words.

“The King?” she repeated, stupefied, her gray eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

“Aye,” Pippin said defiantly, chin tilted up as he turned from facing Merry and toward her instead. Then he caught sight, behind Diamond, of his father’s now empty chair, and he deflated, his shoulders slumping and chin sagging as he informed her morosely, “We have been invited to visit the King.”

Merry again had opened his mouth, but could not jump in to clarify that the “we” likely referred more to himself and Pippin than to Pippin and Diamond, before he was interrupted again, this time by Thain Paladin, approaching from behind his son.

“What’s this?” Paladin asked joyfully, clapping one hand upon Pippin’s shoulder. “You’ve received an invitation from the King?”

“Yes, Uncle Paddin,” Merry said eagerly at the same time as Pippin breathed out, “Aye, Da,” and met the older hobbit’s eyes. Diamond watched the exchange among all three and moved to place a hand upon Pippin’s arm as he locked gazes with his father.

Two sets of green eyes stared forthrightly into each other, until Paladin swallowed and then broke his face into a smile. “Well, then what are you waiting for?” he asked in a cheery tone. “It sounds to me as if you’ve a duty to accept such an invitation.

“Besides,” he winked toward Diamond who, startled, flashed a quick and tentative smile back before tightening her grip on Pippin’s arm and moving closer to him, “your lovely wife’s birthday reminds us that we are none of us getting any younger, you included, my lad,” Paladin said and looked back at Pippin with a smile on his lips and a strange bit of sadness in his eyes. “You had best go while there’s still time.”

“Yes, Da,” Pippin said and swallowed against the lump in his throat, then made sure he had a smile on his own face before turning it to Diamond.

“Diamond, could you be ready for a trip South to visit the King in two weeks’ time?” he asked. “Say, a departure the day after our anniversary?”

“Of course, husband,” Diamond smiled back at him, awkward though it felt to be forming her lips into such a configuration after what she had witnessed between Pippin and his father. She was grateful for the training in such niceties she’d received in the home of her parents. “It shall be as you and the Thain” -- she nodded briefly toward Paladin and a flash of understanding passed between their eyes as well, while Diamond’s grip on Pippin’s arm grew imperceptibly tighter -- “wish.”

Merry looked back and forth among all these Tooks. He was confused. Pippin was going South with him now, so it sounded as if he had got what he wanted. Why, then, did he feel such a sudden pull of sadness?

Deserved to see the King...of course she does! Ganelon fumed. Who else among the Shire’s hobbitesses could hold a position worthy of such a thing?

It sounded as if Diamond would have to leave the Shire to see this person, and that could be dangerous, Ganelon supposed, but after all, just think of the fame and the respect she’d earn for having gone!

He tamped down the voice that said there were hobbits, himself among them, who had jeered at old Mad Baggins and called any tales of his adventures, or of subsequent ones, queer. After all, it was different for a lass. She had no choice but to obey her husband’s command that she leave the Shire with him. And if, in the process, she met such as kings and queens, so much the better, Ganelon decided.

Anyway, it would fall to Captain Peregrin’s duty to protect his wife from any dangers that befell her, and the hobbit did at least know how to stand and face his duty; Ganelon had to grudgingly grant him that much.

Although it did rankle that the Heir hadn’t appeared to want to take Diamond along on the journey South until Peregrin’s father pointed out that he ought to go, and fairly ordered him to do so, Ganelon noted, feeding himself more to seethe upon in his bitterness.

At least, he noted with a smug satisfaction as he glanced back at the clothing Pippin and Diamond wore, at least she was controlling Captain Peregrin’s wardrobe now. The North-Took influence was beginning to be felt. He could wait a while before demonstrating more of it.

Looking back toward Pippin and Diamond, Ganelon nearly walked into Pervinca.

“Hoy!” she shouted as he bumped her, then stuck her hands on her hips and began tapping her foot out from under her skirts. “Watch where you’re going!” she remonstrated.

“Excuse me, Mistress Took,” Ganelon said gravely and was bowing as Pervinca corrected him, saying loudly, “Proud-!” but her voice dying to a sigh on the “-foot.”

“Ah, yes, pardon me again, Mistress,” Ganelon said distractedly, his gaze wandering back to Pippin and Diamond. “I had forgotten.”

“Hoy!” Pervinca repeated, and thumped his arm briefly to get his attention before returning her hands to her hips and a glare to her face. “Are you eavesdropping -- spying -- on my brother?” she accused.

“Mistress, I wish only to know the fate of my sister,” Ganelon said in a voice that sounded wrung with sincerity.

“Well,” Pervinca’s voice wavered. “My brother’s life is not to be trifled with such,” she said quietly, then added, with flashing eyes and a flare of anger, “’Tis not a pawn in some game!”

She brought her chin up and, tall lass that she was, looked Ganelon straight in the eyes.

“No-o,” he said slowly, stroking his chin as a light dawned in his own eyes. “No, it is not.”

“Good,” Pervinca sighed, and the wind went out of her as she, too, looked toward Pippin and Diamond. “I am glad we agree.”

“Yes. We wish nothing more than for our siblings to be happy,” Ganelon said with a loud sigh and fixed his eyes far away from Pervinca, upon a copse at the edge of the yard. “It is too bad...” He cleared his eyes and shook his head, leaving them closed as he finished, “No. Nothing more may be said.”

“What?” Pervinca asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Well,” Ganelon said, opening one eye.

Pervinca, in her eagerness, missed the calculating look in it as she leaned forward to ask again, “What?”

“There is a custom in the North Farthing,” Ganelon said, “that a daughter -- should her husband give permission, of course -- shall be able to return to the home of her parents, and her family, be she married or no.”

“Aye,” Pervinca nodded cautiously. She had heard on’t,she thought, although...

“And what becomes then of the hobbit she’s wed?” she demanded.

Ganelon’s gaze lazily followed Pervinca’s quick glance toward her brother. “Oh,” he said with little concern, his eyes narrowing a bit at the corners, “he shall be free to do as likes, then, I suppose.”

“Hmph,” snorted Pervinca. “Well, it sounds good enough, I’ll warrant, if they are nae happy when together. But why,” she backed up half a step and cocked her head at Ganelon, “why dinna you take your sister back with you when you depart, then?”

“Ah,” Ganelon said and nodded once, wisely. “But before she may partake of this custom, my sister must fulfill her duty to her husband, you know.”

Pervinca puffed out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and sagged as she returned her stare to Diamond and Pippin, now talking excitedly of plans with Merry and Estella.

For all that her Da was Thain, Pervinca sometimes forgot that her little brother would hold the title in turn, and that he had a responsibility to produce his own Heir. Poor Pip, to be constrained by such duties into a marriage not of his choosing, and to a lass he couldna want.

Pervinca’s eyes narrowed as she continued staring. ‘Twas the lass who must do all the work in this case. Pip would — well, he wouldna be harmed, at any rate. Pervinca pushed her own memories aside and focused her eyes to look not upon Diamond except as the shadow of a lass near Pippin, but on her brother.

Pervinca steeled her resolve and hardened her heart. ‘Twas for Pip, she told herself. Her dear little brother. Oughtn’t he to have the chance for happiness?

“So, it shall be after that, then?” she asked, turning back to Ganelon, her own voice gone as cold as his own.

“Yes, Mistress Proudfoot,” he said softly in return, studying her closely.

“Aye,” Pervinca said, and lifted her chin again. “Proudfoot,” she stated defiantly, then glanced again at Pippin and Diamond, who had begun to walk away in the other direction. “We shall wait for such things to bear fruit, then,” she stated firmly, and Ganelon agreed.

Pervinca stumbled backward a little as someone took her arm from behind and led her away. “Pimpernel!” she said crossly to her sister.

“Pinabel!” Nellie laughed gaily back as she led the way toward their children. ‘Twas a nickname she’d not used for many a year, not since their family’s youngest sister was the smallest of the lot.


“’Tis lovely!” Pippin had exclaimed when Diamond shyly presented him with her birthday present.

“Are -- are you certain -- oh, no!” she exclaimed and reached out toward the tiny, delicate green leaf that fluttered with the breeze of their breaths from where it had germinated among the seeds in the portrait.

“Leave it,” Pippin said, and caught her hand gently before she could touch. “It gives it character,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her, the rendition of Eglantine at her stitching leaning quietly upon the table between them.


“Diamond!” Pippin called out as he came through the door of the quarters. He continued calling as he walked toward the bed chamber. “Have you talked to the kitchen staff yet about when we will be -- gone?” The last word ended lower as he entered the bed chamber and realized she was not to be found there, either.

He shrugged and turned to go when the tail of his weskit brushed against a pile upon the bed and he lunged to grab at the things as they fell.

Diamond’s clothing -- a light shawl, for instance -- most of it was, he noticed as he tried to set the pile aright. Doubtless things she was considering whether to pack along. Well, he’d not begrudge her her clothes nor her jewels nor -- what was this, then?

Pippin felt again the hard corner of something, much like he had bumped his foot against not long ago. He reached within the pile of clothing to draw it out. The book’s well-used binding fell open in his hand to a certain page.

“He kissed her again, much deeper than he had before. Clover sighed, glad at last that she had not gone to Michel Delving this year. Her Overlithe could be special, special indeed, right here in Pincup. She broke the kiss only to smile at the hobbit and guide his hand toward her buttons--”

“Oh!” Diamond stopped short at the bed chamber door and gasped in dismay. Her face flushed deeply red before paling considerably, and she hung her head, chewing at her lip as tears pricked her eyes. “I am sorry, husband,” she whispered to her feet.

Pippin, at the same time, had slammed shut the book and hastily sat up upon the bed, his own face flushed and his curls in disarray. “I’m s--” he began as Diamond spoke and then, “Wait. What are you sorry for?” he asked, puzzled, letting the volume rest idly in his hands.

“Why,” Diamond, mortified, nevertheless cautiously lifted her head a bit to peer at Pippin, “I did not wish to keep things from you, but the healer said you should not know.”

“Healer?” Pippin repeated, looking from the book he held to his wife and back.

“Aye,” Diamond nodded and swallowed, the tears now beginning to stream down her face.

Pippin saw, and patted the bed next to where he sat. “Come here, Diamond,” he said softly and, seeing that she was hesitant, added, “Please.”

Diamond gave a small sob of “Yes, husband,” and moved with alacrity to sit where he indicated. She chastened herself silently for compounding secretiveness with disobedience, and sat stiffly even when Pippin put his arm around her shoulders.

“Diamond,” he asked in a voice that hesitated and sought for the right tone. “Are you well?”

Diamond nodded vigorously and then said, out loud, “I believe so.” She continued to look at her lap and not at Pippin.

“Then why,” he began and looked slowly toward the book he held, a possible light beginning to dawn, “why seek out the healer?”

“It -- it was the lasses’ healer,” she said, fighting against the sobs that threatened her. “She said she could help me to become with child.”

Pippin laughed ruefully. “Well, I daresay ‘twouldn’t be her directly,” he commented, and then his mouth fell open with astonishment as Diamond shot him a horrified and stricken look.

“Diamond,” he began again, slowly, “what did the healer say about your having a babe?”

“Oh, she gave me such books as that,” Diamond gestured carelessly, her sobs growing less but her distress still pronounced, “and seemed to think it was a good thing for me to travel about the Shire in your company, but now you have seen what you shouldn’t and it has not worked, and I am no closer to bearing you a child...Pippin?” she broke off now in puzzlement to stare at her husband, who was grinning like a proud cat that had just caught a mouse.

“Oh, it hasna worked now, has it?” he chortled, his eyes twinkling. “I should think that lasses’ healer knew what she was about, indeed.” He looked down at the book again with an admiring grin.

“Pippin?” Diamond queried this odd reaction, pausing, for the moment, her own turmoil.

Pippin had a fond smile on his face as he lifted his eyes from the book to hers and slowly shook his head.

“Diamond,” he asked, still smiling, “do you love me?”

She pushed aside her fears, and her shame, and her confusion, for the moment, and took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said, looking directly into those green eyes.

Pippin’s grin grew even wider. “Good,” he said. “For I love you, too, my wife of nearly one year this day.

“And now,” he said as he stood from the bed and walked toward the bed chamber door, only to close it and prop the book against the jamb where the door swung inside, “Now,” he said as he turned to walk back toward the bed where Diamond sat, removing his braces with either hand as he went, “I think the hobbit in this book has some very interesting ideas, indeed.”

He reached the bed, his braces dangling at his sides, and unconcernedly scooped the pile of clothing onto the floor. Then he leaned forward over Diamond, one foot on the floor upon either side of her skirts, and his hands braced upon the bed so that she was caught between them as he leaned forward, their faces close enough to touching that his breath both cooled and inflamed the tracks the tears had left upon her cheeks.

Diamond could not quite understand why she suddenly seemed more aware than ever of her heart pounding in her chest. She was frightened, yes, a little, of Captain Peregrin’s actions, but she somehow knew, certainly, that she did not wish her Pippin to stop.

“For I think,” Pippin said as he leaned closely over her, “whether it leads to a babe or no, that I’m about to do aught else which, once upon a time, it might’ve been said that I oughtn’t.”

Diamond felt the softness of the bedclothes behind her head, and the firmness of Pippin’s lips on hers, and she relaxed.