Chapter Five: ‘Round

On the second day of their wedded life, Diamond retrieved the cart which had once again been placed outside the door and laden with breakfast -- first breakfast, this day, as they had not retired so late and had risen earlier. Captain Peregrin sat at the dining table as she placed the dishes before him. She observed, as they ate, that he took three helpings of the eggs rather than the two he had had the day before. She must remember that he preferred them scrambled to poached.

As the conclusion of the meal, Diamond would have again gathered the empty dishes, but Pippin held up a hand to stop her. “Let the servants get that,” he said mildly. No matter how determined she seemed to be subservient to him, Pippin would not have his wife treated like a common serving lass.

“I think ‘tis time you met our servants anyway,” Pippin said as he stood from the table. You shall have the oversight of them, for the most part, as they work in this section of the Smials.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Are you sure ‘tis not a favorite serving lass from home you’d like to send for? ‘Tis not too late, you know.”

“No, thank you, husband,” Diamond answered demurely. “I am sure I shall be content.”

Pippin shrugged and crossed the room to the mantel, where he pressed a small round button Diamond had not noticed before. Trailing away from the button, along the wall and up toward the ceiling, where it snaked out the door of the quarters, was a thin line of metal pipe. Such a contraption was to be found in many rooms of the Smials, their pipes trailing along the upper reaches of the corridors until they reached their end at a board in the servants’ quarters. There, the end of the pipe which had been plucked would descend to strike a small bell, and the lever fastened to the end of the pipe would remain depressed, indicating which room the call had come from, until the servant answering this summons lifted it.

Diamond did not tell Pippin that she could not accept his offer, which he and his mother had also extended before the wedding, to send for her own serving lass. The North-Tooks had but one maid and one hobbitservant to tend them all, and all their estate. As she had practiced overseeing the servants she would someday have, her sister and brother, and sometimes her parents, had pretended to fill those roles.

She smoothed her skirts and rose with an outward calm as the servant who had first answered Pippin’s call returned with the others.

“I believe you are all aware of Mistress Diamond,” he said to the line of them.

A series of bobs and curtsies erupted, along with a smattering of “yes, sir”’s and even a “yes, ma’am” or two.

Diamond inclined her head in acknowledgment.

“Now I’d like you to introduce yourselves to her,” he said. He nodded toward the cook first for, in a hobbit hole, this servant would have the most importance.

“I am Geranium,” the middle-aged hobbitess said, stepping slightly out of the line to drop another curtsy. As she rose, she gestured behind her at two tween hobbitesses, who nervously twittered as they curtsied in their place. “And these lasses are my helpers for the nonce. They are named Poplar and Holly.”

“Many tweens work at the Smials for a time,” Pippin informed Diamond. He smiled fondly at Geranium. “Of course, there are also some permanent staff. I am glad to see you have kept your place as Second Cook!” he said to her.

Geranium laughed softly and responded, “Don’t know where I’d be going at this point, Mr. Pippin, sir.”

Diamond was surprised at the servant’s familiarity toward her husband, but he had still a smile on his face as he turned back toward her.

“Since Geranium is Second Cook in the kitchens, you’ll be working closely with her,” he said. “You shall be in charge of ordering first breakfast and supper for -- our quarters,” he concluded, his eartips turning pink. “And you shall also work with her to prepare elevenses for the Smials’ banquet hall.”

Diamond was glad that she had practiced not showing surprise before servants. Her heart was fluttering in her chest at this news, even as she remained outwardly calm. To serve Captain Peregrin his meals was one thing -- but the whole smial!

Pippin spoke on, unaware of her discomfort. “My mother says it will be good training for when you are Mistress,” he said, and smiled at her. “Dinna worry overmuch: hobbits who leave elevenses hungry can always make up for it at luncheon!”

Diamond bit the inside of her lip. Did her husband think she would not feed these hobbits properly?

“O’ course,” he continued, “your choices for supper will be what the servants, and the other hobbits in this part of the Smials who choose to partake of it, will eat as well. First breakfast, as I understand it, is catch-as-catch-can in those quarters.”

He looked for confirmation at Geranium, who nodded.

“Right, then,” he said, and nodded to the next servant in line. “Would you introduce yourself, please, lass? I’m afraid I don’t know your name, either.” He smiled disarmingly at her.

A somewhat younger hobbitess stood forth, curtsied, and said, “My name is Bluebell, Mr. Peregrin, Mistress Diamond. I am the head maid for this part of the Smials.”

“Well met, Bluebell,” Pippin said, and Diamond nodded at the lass. Turning to his wife, Pippin said, “She’ll help you oversee the cleaning of our quarters and the common parts of this area and -- and all that,” he finished, waving a hand vaguely. Pippin had never been very interested in all the duties housework entailed, as Estella Brandybuck could attest.

“And is this lass your tween?” he asked the maid, nodding to the hobbitess next to her.

“Yes, sir,” Bluebell responded, and the tweenager dipped into a curtsy. “Her name is Trefoil.”

“Splendid,” Pippin said, and moved on to the final servant in the line. “You do look familiar,” he said to the sturdy young hobbit. “I believe we met on one of my visits this past year. ‘Bert, was it?”

“Yes, sir,” the hobbit replied, glowing with pride that the young Heir remembered him. “And you might say as I look a sight like m’ sister, as was a tween in the kitchens when you was but a little lad.”

“Was she?” Pippin asked quizzically, a slight furrow between his brows. “There were such a lot of them, you know. But no matter,” he suddenly laughed and clapped Bert upon the shoulder. “For I am certain I remember you, now, moving that great long table across the smial all by yourself at Yule!

“Bert is quite the strong hobbit,” he said, turning to Diamond but keeping his hand on the shoulder of the servant, who blushed happily and stared down as he wiggled his toes. “He is the one to call upon if you need any furniture moved, or repairs done, or to find a stablehobbit and saddle a pony.”

Pippin finished his speech and looked at Diamond, as if waiting for her to say something.

“I am glad to meet you all,” she said as she had practiced so many times before.

Then there was a long pause until Pippin said, “Right,” and gave Bert’s shoulder one last squeeze before releasing it. “Carry on, then,” he said. “I am going to my office, near to my father’s.”

He made an uncertain movement, as if he would step toward Diamond, but then stopped. Always when, as a child, he had seen his father leave their quarters for the day, Paddin had kissed Eglantine before he left. ‘Too soon,’ Pippin thought, and did not reach for Diamond.

He turned on his heel and left, trying to ignore the kitchen lasses’ giggles as he walked by them.

“Well,” Diamond said, with confidence. She had practiced this part with her family many times. “You are dismissed.”

She gestured toward the dishes on the dining table. “If one of you will just--”

“I’ll get it this day, Mistress,” Geranium said, moving forward even as she shooed Poplar and Holly away behind her. They exited into the hallway with the other servants, giggling still as they went.

As Geranium piled the dishes upon the cart, Diamond watched her motions and was unaware that her own hand was bunching the fabric of her skirts. Geranium smiled softly at her, humming a little as she worked. After placing the last dish upon the cart, she reached out slowly and took Diamond’s free hand in her own.

“Welcome to the Great Smials, Mistress Diamond,” she said kindly. “If you wish, you may call me ‘Gerry.’”

Diamond held back the tears that threatened to fall. “Thank you,” she said simply.


“...uurp.” Pippin covered his mouth and tried to belch quietly as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“All right, then, Pip?” Paddin asked, looking up from his desk, and the reports he and Pippin were sharing.

“Yes, Da,” Pippin answered as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle another burp. “I must just be a wee full after elevenses.”

“Hmm,” Paddin answered, turning his eyes down once more. He had taken to having a tray sent ‘round for his own elevenses after making a few appearances that first week at the head table, Pippin seated to his right, Eg to his left, and Diamond on the far side of Pippin. It was easier that way to avoid a heavy meal -- a servant, or a cart, could only carry so much, after all.

Pad’s innards had been giving him twinges, on occasion, and he found that couldn’t eat as much as he used. He had thought before Pippin’s wedding that ‘twas just nerves, but the lass seemed to be settling in at the Smials, and he was still experiencing the occasional twinge.

At Eg’s repeated urgings, he had at last given in and consulted the healer, but she could find naught amiss. “’Tis likely your age, sir,” she had said, and patted his hand kindly. Pad thought she was probably right, and was glad he could eat alone and avoid any more pestering on the subject.

Eg continued to eat in the banquet hall for elevenses, keeping an eye on the meals her daughter-in-law served. That first week, she had assumed their lavishness was some kind of celebration, in honor of the wedding. But elevenses continued to be a much heavier meal than before, and Eg had had to adjust her luncheon plans accordingly.

Of course, some hobbits, particularly the young tweens and a few of the males among them, were quite glad to have large amounts of food served at both elevenses and luncheon. Others among them, however, were more accustomed to a lighter meal in the late morning, followed by the heavier one in the early afternoon. There had been no open complaints as of yet, but several pushed back their plates before they were clear.

Pippin felt ‘twould be callous of him to do so. Under his wife’s watchful eye, he continued to consume every speck of food she put before him.

At least this day’s squab was not so large as the pullet he’d been faced with last week, Pippin thought as he worked a thumb surreptitiously under his weskit to loosen the waistband of his breeches. ‘Twould not have been so bad if it weren’t accompanied by the roasted taters topped with dill, and the stewed mushrooms, and the wilted greens, and the strawberry-rhubarb compote, all served in generous portions. He covered another belch.

Paddin looked up from his desk again, a faint smile twitching the corners of his lips even as his brows drew together. “Sure you’re all right, then?” he asked.

“Yes, Da,” Pippin answered, and gazed seriously back at Paddin as the older hobbit’s lips continued to twitch. Pippin felt a slow smile forming on his own face in response, and at length they both broke into laughter.

“Oh, Pip,” Paladin said at last, taking a sip from a water glass set upon his desk as his eyes continued to tear, “I suppose ‘twould be out of the question for you to take elevenses with me?”

“That ‘twould require two carts, and more servants besides, likely,” Pippin responded as he reached to pour his own glass of water. He gazed at it balefully as he held it in his hand before swallowing, muttering around the last gasps of laughter, “I suppose ‘twill have to go in the cracks, as there aren’t any corners left to be filled!”

After Pippin had drained his glass and set it back down, he jumped in his seat with another loud “Urp!”

Both hobbits smiled at each other again for a moment, and then Paladin turned serious once more. “Can you not say something to her?” he asked his son.

“Oh, Da,” Pippin answered earnestly. “I think ‘twould crush her. She seems so eager to please.”

Paladin nodded, satisfied for the moment, and returned to his work. He, too, was eager that the lass try to please his son. Besides, the Thain could eat wherever he wanted.

“Oh, Mistress Diamond,” Gerry said as they sat together to plan the next week’s menus, “shall we continue the fine extravagances, then?”

“Extravagances?” Diamond echoed in surprise, her hand pausing where she had begun to write out the plans for the meals.

“Oh, I’m sure it must be common for your people to feast for a wedding nigh on a month,” Gerry said, carefully studying the receipt cards she shuffled before her, “but I can’t say as I’ve seen it happen at the Great Smials before.”

Diamond nibbled the end of her quill. She would not want Captain Peregrin to think her extravagant, no matter the Tooks’ wealth. But she was also still concerned...

“Will not the hobbits of the Great Smials go hungry if we cut back upon their meals?” she asked.

“Well,” Gerry said with a deep breath, as she tapped her handful of receipt cards into their box and turned to face Diamond, “if you’ll beg my pardon, Mistress, I should think that any which are still hungry should be able to make up for it at luncheon. And then, Mistress,” she said, bobbing her head, “that would be the other Mistress’s task to deal with.”

“Oh,” Diamond said softly, and reached out with a timid hand to place it over the Second Cook’s. “Thank you, Gerry. You are a great help to me and so, I hope, to Captain Peregrin.”

Gerry smiled back at her and patted Diamond’s hand with her own.


Pimpernel smoothed her sandy curls with one hand as she waited in the hallway. Her hair had lightened with age, becoming more the color of her mother’s.

“You try first, dear,” Eg had said. “I think I may be a bit much for the lass.”

Diamond answered the door in response to her knock. “Yes?” she asked, looking puzzled.

“I’m Pimpernel Took,” she said with a smile. “Pi-- Peregrin’s sister. I’m sure you have a lot of new names and faces to remember!”

“Oh, yes,” Diamond said, her brow smoothing out as she placed the hobbitess.

“May I come in, then?” Pimpernel asked after a moment had passed with no further word.

“Captain Peregrin is not here,” Diamond said, but she opened door farther and stood aside to let Pimpernel pass.

“Oh, I know,” Pimpernel laughed. “I wanted to see you.”

“Oh,” Diamond said softly, then gestured to the sofa. “Please, have a seat, Miss-- Mistress--”

Pimpernel laughed again as she sat. “Oh, just call me Pimpernel,” she said. “We’re family now, you know.”

“Thank you,” Diamond said, and smiled shyly back as she sat on the edge of a chair. “What did you wish to see me about?” she asked, hoping that her supervision of the housekeeping staff, or of the kitchens, had not been found lacking.

“Oh, nothing much,” Pimpernel said with a smile. “Just to visit.” Her eyes fell on the draught pieces arranged on the sitting room’s table. “Would you like to play?” she asked, leaning toward them, but then stopped as she saw Diamond’s hesitation. “Of course, if you two are in the middle of a game...”

“Oh. Oh, no,” Diamond said, blushing. “This is not one of our games.” She blushed again, leaning her head down. “I -- I have been practicing with myself.”

“Practicing?” Pimpernel asked as she reached toward the board with a questioning look and, at Diamond’s nod of approval, cleared the pieces for a new game. “Do you wish to improve?”

“I--” Diamond blushed again, but a faint smile was on her cheeks as she looked at Pimpernel. “I did not know how to play until Captain Peregrin taught me. My parents were afraid he would not approve of a lass who played games such as are to be found in inns.”

“Oh!” Pimpernel laughed as she set the pieces in place. “You have no need to worry there, my dear. My brother dearly loves to play any game with any hobbit or hobbitess who’ll let him.”

“In that case,” said Diamond, “I shall be glad to practice with an actual opponent.”

At the conclusion of their game, as she was unstacking her draught pieces, Pimpernel said, “I also wanted to ask -- to invite -- you to take supper with us. You and P--Peregrin-- with my husband and me,” she clarified, as Diamond looked troubled.

Diamond’s expression did not change, however, at Pimpernel’s clarification, and she responded, “I shall have to ask Captain Peregrin’s approval.”

“Oh,” Pimpernel said, managing to keep a smile on her face and in her voice, “of course. Do let me know, then?”

As they sat before the game table that evening, Diamond broached the subject. “Husband,” she said as she jumped one of her draughts over Pippin’s, “we received an invitation today.”

“Oh?” Pippin said detachedly as he studied his next move. “For what?”

“To dine with Mister Everard and Mistress Pimpernel Took,” Diamond said carefully.

Pippin’s reaction was immediate as he sat back from the table, his face alight. “Supper with Nellie and Everard!” he said, grinning. “Wonderful! When are we going?”

“I--I do not know,” Diamond admitted, reaching her hand toward a draught and then withdrawing it before making a move. “I have not yet accepted.”

“Whyever not?” Pippin asked, puzzled, as he quickly jumped the draught piece Diamond had at last slid forward.

“I--I did not know if you would approve,” Diamond blushed as she studied the board in her turn. “Perhaps there were tensions I was not aware of.”

Pippin laughed. “Perhaps I should give you a list of hobbits whose invitations to sup I would decline,” he said, then added with a wink, “’Twill be a short list.”

“Yes, husband,” Diamond smiled as she reached, hesitated, then made her final move. She was becoming more accustomed to his manner of jesting.

“Ah!” Pippin said, and jumped her last two draughts. He leaned back in his chair, stretching, and grinned back at her. “’Twas a might more challenging to best you tonight,” he said. “You’ve been practicing!”

“Aye, husband,” Diamond said with a smile, and began to clear the board.

Diamond had sent word via Holly the kitchen lass that Pimpernel’s invitation was accepted, and she and Pippin arrived at the other Tooks’ door on the appointed day. Under the arm which did not escort Diamond, Pippin clutched a bottle of Old Winyards.

“1420!” Everard exclaimed delightedly as he took the bottle, “That was a very good year!”

He was oblivious, as he studied the label, to the strain that suddenly appeared in Pippin’s and Pimpernel’s smiles and Diamond’s downcast head.

Supper was a little more lavish than Pimpernel usually chose to serve -- she had asked Geranium to assign a kitchen lass to help her prepare. Pimpernel, Everard, and their ten-year-old daughter Aster -- who had, under protest, been sent to bed under the supervision of her nurse at the usual early hour -- lived in the section of the Smials considered Pippin and Diamond’s domain. If they had so chosen, they could have partaken of the earlier supper prepared under Diamond’s instructions; or, as was the case tonight, they could choose their own meal and serving time. Of course, like the rest of the inhabitants of the Smials, they were expected to consume whatever Diamond ordered prepared for elevenses.

“How come you’re not serving the large meals for elevenses anymore?” Everard asked as the evening’s dishes were passed. “I liked ‘em!”

Diamond blushed and Pippin squirmed, but Pimpernel deflected the question with a fond smile, “I’m sure Diamond has her reasons, dear,” she said. “After all, ‘tis certain that she knows more of running a kitchen than you.”

Everard laughed. “That’s true,” he said in agreement. “Pip, do you remember when you were ten and you told me to raid the Smials’ kitchens for us, but then I got caught?”

“Aye,” Pippin said, smiling as he ate. “I thought you could reach more food than I, as you were taller.”

“That’s because I was twenty!” Everard laughed again. He turned to Diamond and added unnecessarily, “I’m ten years older than Pip.”

Diamond smiled politely, unsure what to say to this, but Everard did not seem to need an answer. He went on, “But it was all right, because I didn’t get in trouble, because Pip told that he was just extra hungry that day, and I was just helping him.” He beamed in the direction of Pippin, whose turn it was to blush as he ate.

“Yes, well--” he began, but Everard was not finished.

“Pip always had lots of good ideas, and he played with me even when the big lads wouldn’t,” he concluded. “He was a really good friend!” He smiled again at Pippin, and Pippin smiled back.

“You’re still my good friend, Everard, and I still like to play with you,” he said. “Mayhap we can have a game later.”

“After supper, of course,” Pimpernel interrupted, dumping another spoonful of potatoes on Everard’s plate.

“Oh, of course,” Everard said as he tucked into the vegetables. “Aren’t Nellie’s meals grand?” he asked.

“Grand indeed,” answered Pippin, raising his wineglass in a toast to his sister, who accepted it calmly with a small tip of her own glass, and Diamond murmured, “Quite lovely.”

“So, I hear tell from Da that your friend Sam Gamgee will be running for Mayor of the Shire,” Pimpernel said after she and her brother had finished their sips of wine.

“Aye,” Pippin responded with a raised brow, speaking around a forkful of potato salad. “What of it?”

“P--” Pimpernel began, but then stopped herself from telling her little brother not to talk with his mouth full.

Pippin quickly threw a guilty glance at Diamond, who was purposefully concentrating on her plate.

Pimpernel went on. “Da wants to make certain he wins,” she said. “He’s thinking of giving a speech in Sam’s support at the Michel Delving fair.”

Pippin groaned and propped his elbows on the table, with his hands over his face. He quickly removed them, though, and went back to eating, saying, “Sorry. So what do you think of the idea, Pimpernel?”

“Well,” his sister said carefully, “I know Da means well, but I think it could actually hurt Sam’s chances to be seen as the Thain’s chosen candidate. Most hobbits,” she smiled fondly at her husband, eating with head bowed over his plate, “don’t like to be told what to do.”

“That’s true,” Pippin said, and leaned back in his chair for another drink of wine. “Do you think ‘twould be better if I gave a speech instead?” he asked ruminatively.

Pimpernel hesitated a moment before answering softly. “No, Peregrin.” Her brother startled a little at her use of his full name, and glanced again at Diamond, but continued to listen as Pimpernel went on. “You’re -- too close to Da,” she said, but they both knew what she meant. “I think you could help Sam better another way.”

“How is that?” Pippin asked, and Diamond listened wide-eyed, her fork stilled on her plate. She supposed Captain Peregrin’s interest in talk of politics should not have surprised her -- but she had not expected it to come from a lass!

“I think,” Pimpernel was saying, “that you should tell Sam the sort of things hobbits who are voting would like him to talk about -- and let Da make any suggestions he will as well -- and include it in a letter to Sam. You write to him from time to time anyway, so ‘twill not seem strange, and he can ask for more advice if he wishes. That way, ‘twill be Sam’s own ideas, and his own words, that the hobbits hear at Michel Delving, but Da will be appeased.”

“Pimpernel,” Pippin said, leaning back again and draining the last of his wine in another toast, “You’re brilliant.”

“Isn’t she, though?” Everard asked, looking up from his now-empty plate. “Let’s have some music after supper, and we can sing her song.”

“Do you play, dear?” Pimpernel asked Diamond as they walked to a parlor at the end of the Smials’ corridor. It was technically Diamond and Pippin’s parlor, to use for functions or hobbits they did not wish to entertain in their quarters, but other gentlehobbits in this section could use it if it were unoccupied.

“I have had some lessons,” Diamond said as they reached the parlor’s arched entrance. “I believe my skills are adequate.” She was relieved to see that the parlor contained a spinet, the instrument on which she had taken her lessons in the North Farthing, rather than a larger pianoforte.

“Mama insisted all of us lasses learn to play,” Pimpernel said as they entered the parlor. “And our brother, too, to an extent, although he was more like to sing.”

“Oh, aye!” Everard said. “Pippin can sing well, and make up words, too. He helped me write the song that asked Nellie to marry me, because she had lots of hobbits that wanted to be her suitors, but I liked her, too, so I dinna want her to leave the Great Smials. Come on, Pippin, let’s sing it, and then Diamond can learn to play the tune!”

“All right,” Pippin laughed, “We can sing, but Diamond, are you sure you don’t mind playing?”

“Of course not, husband,” she said, smoothing her skirts as she walked toward the bench. “I shall play if you wish me to.”

Pippin opened his mouth to protest that was not what he meant, but closed it again with a small shake of his head when he saw Diamond was already sitting before the spinet, her back to him and fingers poised.

“Come on, Pip, let’s sing!” Everard repeated, and Pippin smiled at him and joined in:

Oh, my darling Nellie, stay.
They’ll not taken you away,
So I’ll never see my darling anymore.
For a hobbit must take a wife,
And stay with her all his life;
Say you’ll be mine evermore.*

Diamond had forgotten to move her fingers in accordance with the tune, so struck was she by the words. Would, she wondered, Captain Peregrin ever compose for her such a song?

“The second line’s a bit off,” Pippin smiled sheepishly, “but I was just a tween.”

“I think it’s beautiful!” Diamond said earnestly. Her gray eyes and Pippin’s green ones locked for a moment, and then they each looked away.

“Of course ‘tis!” Everard said. “It’s my Nellie’s song, and that’s why I call her Nellie. She didn’t go with any of those other hobbits after Pippin told me to sing that to her outside the Great Door, did you?” he beamed with pride at his wife.

“No, dear, I didn’t,” Pimpernel replied with a smile.

“Come on, Diamond, you’ve got to learn how to play it,” Everard called. “Let’s sing it again!”

“Why don’t you go ahead and teach her, Everard?” Pippin asked. “I want to talk to Pimpernel a bit more.”

“All right,” Everard said, and sat on the arm of the sofa nearest to the spinet, while Diamond placed her fingers on the keyboard.

“Nellie,” Pippin said from where he and his sister stood on the the far side of the room. Then he glanced over at their spouses, hunched over the spinet, and amended with a rueful smile, “Pimpernel. Did I -- did I coerce you into marrying Everard? I know I did some fine wheedling on his behalf, and for all he’s a good friend, he’s not, well, not so bright as you,” he finished glumly.

“Oh, Pip,” Pimpernel said and placed a hand on his arm. Her smile was both sweet and sad as she continued, “No matter how adorable of a little brother you were -- and are,” she smiled as he blushed, “you did not make me do anything I did not wish to do.

“I knew all the other hobbits called Everard ‘slow’ -- I grew up in the Great Smials, too, you know.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “But I also knew what a good friend he was to you: how he lifted you up when you were too little to reach things, and played whatever you wanted, and wasn’t jealous at all when Merry came to visit, and protected you if the other big lads got rough.

“He was too shy to say anything if you hadn’t helped him with that song, but you did, and he’s been singing it, and showing me all that sweetness, and love, and devotion, for thirteen years now. That’s what mattered to me in a marriage. Hey!”

She reached up, but Pippin shook her hand away from his face and his arm free and wiped the tears from his eyes himself. “I’m all right,” he said. “I guess I’m feeling a bit guilty, ‘tis all.” They both ignored the fact that his eyes were on Diamond, not Everard, as he looked across the room. Pippin’s wife was playing, as she had claimed, adequately, while Pimpernel’s husband continued to sing.

“I had thought then -- and still do, of course,” Pippin said, “that I should appoint Everard to my staff someday.”

At this, Pimpernel looked troubled, but Pippin went on, “For I don’t know how else to get the value of all your advice. It’s you I want, really, Nellie,” he said and looked her in the eyes. “You know, the Elves follow their women as leaders.”

Pimpernel sighed and placed her hand on his arm again with another sad smile. “Hobbits, Pip, are not Elves,” she said.

“No,” Pippin answered, his gaze straying back to Diamond, “No, they aren’t.”


________
*To the tune of, and adapted from, “Darling Nelly Gray,” words and music by Benjamin Russell Hanby.