Chapter 2 - Repentant Siblings

Pippin had completed his morning chores before luncheon. When he was finished, he went outside, climbing into the hayloft to perform his final task before heading out to the pasture to help Merry repair the back fences. For as much time as Merry spent with his uncle, aunt, and cousins, he, too, was given a few chores to keep him busy and out of trouble. He and Pippin had a tiny habit of finding mischief at some point during his visits. Paladin tried his best to avoid the inevitable.

Pippin watched from his perch high above ground as Pimpernel stepped outside for a breath of fresh air before she accompanied Paladin back to the fields for the afternoon work. He reached up in the doorway of the loft, tacking up the pair of bloomers he had stitched the night before. Pippin stepped back to admire his handiwork. He smiled at his own scheming, watching the garment flutter in the soft summer breeze. It could’ve belonged to any of his sisters, however, clearly stitched somewhat unevenly on the bum facing outside were the letters, P I M.

By this time, his remaining sisters and cousin had followed Pimpernel outside--Merry was obviously wanting to locate the youngest Took so they could begin their work. Pippin hunkered down as much as he could, though not completely out of their sight. He could see Pervinca use a handkerchief to wipe her brow.

“I didn’t realize that the kitchen can get so hot in the summer, Pearl!” he heard the younger helper exclaim.

Pippin heard Pearl reply, “Now you’ll appreciate Dahlia a bit more, won’t you?”

“Yes!” Pervinca was turning her head this way and that as she continued to wipe the perspiration from her nose and brow. Then she spied an odd sight in the hayloft. “Pearl! Look--up there!”

Pippin heard gasps and then suppressed snorts of laughter--those had to be Merry and Pervinca. Pearl shot a stern look to the hobbit-teens, silencing their snickers. “Who would…?” Pearl mumbled, then saw him stand up in the loft. “Pippin!”

Always willing to take credit for his cleverness, Pippin had stood up inside the loft, brushing off the dust that dropped onto his clothes and into his hair while hanging up his revenge. Pimpernel had turned to see what the ado was about, then shrieked when she saw the stitching.

“You wicked little troll!” she yelled. “Come down here this instant! And bring--those--with you!”

Pippin laughed, teasing his sister from the loft, “Come up here and get them yourself!”

Pimpernel would do that--and more! She stormed inside the barn then climbed quickly up the ladder, making her way over to the loft door where her annoying little brother was. He was the only thing that stood between her and the clean, white pair of bloomers hanging in the morning sun. She reached over Pippin’s head and snagged the knickers, letting the little tacks fly everywhere. Pippin dodged the tacks, then was thrown off balance when she accidentally bumped her arm against him. As he fell backwards, he flailed his arms to catch hold of something.

Poor Pimpernel didn‘t realize what was going on until her little brother was just out of her grasp. “No--Pippin!!” Everything happened so fast. She dropped everything; a tight knot formed in the pit of her stomach as she scrambled back down the ladder.

When Pippin awoke, a cool cloth lay on his forehead. He could feel the softness of his mattress and pillows underneath him. Pippin knew then that he was lying in his room. He opened his eyes but found he couldn’t focus on anything. Everything was a blur. He rubbed his eyes, then felt a bandage around his wrist as he lifted it. It ached a bit, but surely felt swollen. He sighed, blinking his eyelids to try to clear his eyes. He closed his eyes then opened them again. No, everything was still blurry. He tried to sit up, but his head felt like a 50-pound weight, and he fell back onto his pillow.

“Lie down, son.” The voice filled with concern belonged to his Father.

Pippin looked in the direction of the voice, but only saw a greyish blob. He felt the cloth being removed from his head and then a fresh one put in back in its place.

“What happened, Papa?”

“You had a bad fall.”

“A fall?” Pippin dug into his thoughts, “I don‘t remember falling anywhere.“

“You fell from the loft.”

Seeming a bit confused, Pippin answered, “But I don‘t remember.”

Pippin felt the gentle hand of his father on his forehead. “Shhh! Hush now; rest for a bit while I speak to your mother.”

Now Pippin heard the other voices in the room. Right away he recognised his mother’s voice, but it took another minute for him to identify the other one as the voice of Mrs. Longbottom, the village healer. He couldn’t figure out why Mrs. Longbottom would be in his room. Am I sick? He didn’t feel sick. In fact, he felt well enough to get up and have breakfast--he was getting quite hungry.

“How does your head feel, son?”

He pondered before answering; sore wrist, a huge headache, Mrs. Longbottom… Pippin replied, “It hurts a little, but I’m all right, Papa. I’m hungry. I didn’t miss breakfast, did I?”

Paladin looked anxiously at his wife then replied, “Breakfast? No, son, you ate breakfast, elevenses, and finished luncheon an hour ago. It’s almost three o‘clock.”

“I thought it was morning. It’s so bright outside,” he said, turning his face away from the brilliant afternoon sun shining through he window. Why were his eyes acting so strange today? Moreover, if the healer--Mrs. Longbottom--was here, his best bet to ward off the concoctions he so detested was to eat something. “But I am hungry again--may I have something to eat?”

Eglantine looked at her husband with a hopeful grin. It seemed through head colds or injury, Pippin‘s appetite never wavered. “Very well, sweetie, I’ll bring you a little something,” she said, then left to prepare her son a tray.

When Eglantine returned with a tray laden with bread, jam, fruit, and cheese, Pippin made good on his word--and then some. Yet throughout his meal, her earlier glimmer of hope began to fade. She had to tell him what food was on his plate. “It feels like grapes,” he said, plucking a sweet morsel from the vine then sniffed it, “but it doesn’t smell like a grape.” He then popped it into his mouth, adding, “It sure tastes like a grape, though.”

She sat on the bed with her son helping him spread the jam onto his warm bread. She took Pippin’s hand, placing the bread in it. “Here you go, Pip.”

Pippin’s eyes were tired from trying to squint. He merely took the bread, sniffed it and then smiled, “Mmm! It has cinnamon and raisins in it, doesn’t it Momma?” He laughed, “I can smell the cinnamon!”

Eglantine watched sadly as her young son calmly munched his bread; she wanted to cry. This morning he was strong and hale--now he had a bump on his head--and a bit of a memory loss. Pippin remembered who and where he was and knew all the members of his family, however, his memory surrounding the fall was gone. Mrs. Longbottom said to expect it, though it may return in a few days, as should his vision, though nothing was guaranteed.

Eglantine sighed, “Pippin, do you remember what happened today at all?”

Pippin chewed the last bite of bread, rummaging through his thoughts. “Well,” he began, “I believe I was…” though he couldn’t recall exactly what he was doing; his mind was a complete blank after completing his chores. He took a deep breath then tried again. “I went to bed last evening…woke up this morning,” Even his thoughts just before his “fall” seemed to have a blurriness about them. He licked the sticky jam from his fingers. “I know! Pearl gave me half of her apple pie and I almost forgot to say thank you before I--”

“That was yesterday at supper, love.” Eglantine sadly took her son’s hands and wiped them with a damp cloth as if he were a small child once more. She then wiped his jellied mouth. She hadn’t done this in years. “Pippin lad, you cannot get out of bed today. I will send in Pervinca and Merry keep you company, all right?”

“Yes, Momma.” Pippin finally realised that something dreadful had happened--that it happened to him. Perhaps his mother was right; after a nice nap, everything would be back to normal.

After his second lunch, Pippin did take his nap. A few hours later, he woke up feeling a little out of sorts. He still had a bit of a headache while his eyes still had a hazy fog in them--almost like smoke. Perhaps all of this is one enormous bad dream.

“Pip?” It was Merry’s voice.

Pippin rolled over to “face” the voice, “I thought you would be out working in the fields with my father.”

“I’ve been here at the smial since luncheon,” Merry replied. He looked at his young friend, “You ought to know that I would never leave you while you’re lying abed ill. Besides, we were to repair that broken fence in the back lot. Don‘t you remember?”

“I‘m afraid I‘m not remembering much of anything today, Merry. Everyone keeps telling me that I had a nasty fall.”

“You don’t remember that?”

Pippin sighed, “I don’t think so. While I was asleep, I had a dream of pinching a pair of knickers…but I don’t know why. Then nothing…not even a little memory until I woke up just now.”

“The knickers!” Merry exclaimed, “You were up in the loft with a pair hanging from the rafters--it had Pim’s name sewn on them. Does that help?”

Pippin frowned in thought, “No. What would I want with a pair of a lass’s bloomers?”

“I don’t know, Pip,” Merry replied, then leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re not turning into a lass are you?” He laughed when Pippin tried whacking him with his pillow, though for the most part he missed.

The events of Pim chastising him at the Oak Leaf Inn surfaced in Pippin’s thoughts. “Merry, I think the knickers may have had something to do with yesterday…but could I be that much of a stinker? I mean, hanging up her--” then he covered his mouth to suppress his snicker but failed. “I was a naughty lad!”

“Well, you were pretty livid when she got hold of you outside--and then took your pipe.” With that, Merry reached inside his waistcoat pocket, returning to Pippin the treasured pipe that Frodo had given to him at a birthday a few years ago.

Pippin “looked” over his pipe with his hands, “Looking back over yesterday, I guess I deserved it. I’ve got some cheek filling my pipe with the older lads while waiting for my sister.” He grinned absently, “I’ve only used it twice. My father would punish my backside well if he caught me smoking a pipe.”

“He did catch me last summer!” Merry smirked at the memory. “It was when we were at the Mid-summer Fair. He asked someone for a pail and then took me behind a tent. He placed the pail upside down over my head and told me to smoke to my heart’s content--and so I did. The pail filled with smoke, and I got nauseated.”

Pippin laughed, “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Absolutely!” answered Merry. “Never smoke my pipe when Uncle Paladin is nearby!”

Presently, they heard a knock on the door while it was opening. “Pippin?”

“Hullo, Pervinca,” said Pippin upon hearing his sister‘s voice. “Momma said that you’d be keeping me company along with this scoundrel.”

Pervinca took the chair from her brother’s desk to sit on near the bed. “I would have been here earlier, but I was with Pim.”

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Pippin.

“She very upset right now, Pip. She feels terrible about what happened.”

A perplexed Pippin strained to see his sister, “Why? I only bumped my head.”

“She accidentally pushed you.”

Pippin looked at his blurry cousin, “She pushed me?”

Merry quickly answered, “It was an accident, Pip.”

No one spoke for a few minutes until Pervinca broke the silence. “Pim has shut herself up inside her room, saying it was all her fault.”

Pippin, still looking at nothing replied, “But it was I who…” He laid aside the lap quilt that covered him, “Do you think she’ll talk to me?”

“I think so,’ his sister replied, “however, mother said for you to stay in bed--but I think she‘ll allow you a moment to talk to Pim.”

Pippin held onto Pervinca’s arm as she led him down the hallway to Pimpernel’s room. All three children stopped in front of the door while Pervinca knocked. No answer. She knocked again, “Pim?” Pervinca entered first to ensure her sister was ready to receive lad visitors then motioned for her cousin to lead Pippin the rest of the way inside.

Merry looked around the room; the ruffled sheets, lace curtains, while rag-dolls sat about and around a hobbit-child’s chair. He recognized a couple of them from when his cousin was a wee girl. Definitely a lass’s room! He noticed it smelled pretty in here, too--like roses and lavender. Probably the fragrance of the dried flowers she kept in a glass bowl on her bureau.

Merry saw his older cousin curled up on top of her bed, “Pim?”

“Go away, please,” she sniffed.

“We brought someone with us,” said Pervinca, trying to coax her sister.

Pim wiped the tears away from her eyes, “Who did you bring?”

Merry was sad at seeing his cousin so wretched. Merry carefully guided Pippin around to the front of him.

Many times Pippin and his sisters bantered and played pranks on each other, but deep down, he loved them all. “Why are you crying, Pim?” Pippin asked. “Nothing could be that bad.” He could hear his sister start to weep again. He took baby steps toward the sound. Finding the bed, he sat down next to Pimpernel.

Pim took her little brother in her arms, sobbing, “I’m sorry Pippin.”

Pippin knew that it didn’t take a wizard to figure out that the Knickers Incident probably started with him. He most likely wouldn’t be in this mess if he wasn’t so mischievous. He wrapped his arms around Pimpernel, returning her embrace, “I’m sorry, too.”