CHAPTER 15

Three days later, Estella Bolger and her mother had sat down to second breakfast. Odovocar was taking his in his office.

“Well, Estella,” said Rosamunda to her daughter, “I’m wondering if we should have the dressmaker in. It really is not too soon to be thinking about frocks for the Yule season.”

Yule. Estella was hoping to spend Yule in Buckland this year instead of Tookland, though she had not yet broached the subject with her mother. Her mother was pleased with the understanding she had with Merry Brandybuck, but since they had chosen to wait on announcing a betrothal until Estella’s brother Freddy came home from the South, Rosamunda tended to pretend that things were the same as before. And her mother did not care for Buckland. In a way that was a blessing--they’d have a lot less motherly interference once they were wed and living there. But for now, that left the question of Yule. And Estella did not want to think about frocks right now, either.

Just then the maidservant brought in the morning post. There was a letter for each of them.

Estella’s heart lifted. Perhaps hers was from Merry? No, how odd. It was from his cousin, Frodo Baggins.

Rosamunda had opened hers. Estella knew immediately, from the stationary that it was from Cousin Eglantine Took. “Estella, dear! We are invited to come to Tuckborough for a few weeks!”

Estella schooled her face. She did not want to show too much enthusiasm, as she knew that Merry was staying there now, helping Pippin with his broken leg. If they went to the Great Smials now, it also might help pave the way for Yule in Buckland later.

She turned her attention to her own letter.

My Dear Estella,

I hope that you will not think me an interfering old busybody to write to you so, but I think you should know that Merry has been having a trying time lately. Between his fright over Pippin’s mishap, and his worry over my health, he is having a recurrence of some of his difficult dreams and sleepless nights.

Perhaps if you could see your way clear to visiting at the Smials while he is there, you might be able to bring a bit of much needed brightness to his life at a time when he is struggling with darkness.

I certainly hope that this might meet with your approval. I only wish that I knew some way to spare him these troubles.

Fond regards,

Cousin Frodo

Oh dear! Oh, Merry--she really had to go to him at once. But her mother had to think it was her own idea. “Well, Mother, what do you think? Is this a good time of year to go to the Great Smials?” She was glad she had not yet told her parents about Pippin’s mishap and Merry’s stay there. Until the betrothal was formalized, her mother had far too many worries about the proprieties.

“Anytime Eglantine Took invites us can be a good time. I am just not so sure about going away right now. The dressmaker--”

Estella interrupted. “Well, Mother, when we were there last Spring for the Ball, you much admired Pearl’s new frocks, and she was full of praises for that new seamstress in Tuckborough.”

Rosamunda tapped her lips with the letter. Eglantine Took was not always so free with the invitations that she could really afford to ignore them, and Estella was right about Pearl’s dressmaker, as well. “Yes,” she said, “yes, perhaps it is a good idea. Let me go speak to your father. I think we will leave tomorrow.”

Her mother got up and swept from the room, and Estella permitted herself a victorious smile. It faded though, as she remembered the contents of Frodo’s letter. Merry truly *needed* her. She only hoped she’d be able to cheer him.

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For the last two days, Pippin had been carried into the family sitting room and installed on the settee there. He had been very grateful for the change of scene, and for the company, although there had been one moment of excruciating pain when little Alyssum, a precocious two and a half year old, had latched onto his leg to pull herself up. He had managed to contain his yell, in order to avoid frightening her, but the face he made was eloquent. Pimpernel had detached her daughter in short order, and kept a more careful watch thereafter.

Right now his mother and his sister Pearl were sitting on the other settee opposite him; Pearl was mending, and Eglantine was working on a bit of embroidery. Merry, who had been playing draughts with him, was now playing with Paladin. It was late afternoon, and soon his other sisters and their families would be showing up for tea.

It had been eight days since Pippin broke his leg. He was getting very restless.

He recalled the conversation he had earlier that morning with Mistress Lavender.

“When will I be able to get up? It’s been more than a week! I was standing on my broken foot after about a week!”

“A broken foot is not a broken leg. While it is true that you are healing more rapidly than the average hobbit, rapidly is *not* instantly. A broken leg, even with no complications, takes at least six weeks to heal--as well as spending a couple of weeks on crutches. At the rate you are healing, you may be able to cut the time down to about four weeks, but any less than that is going to be pushing your luck, young hobbit!”

“But--”

“But me no buts. You are healing well; if you continue to follow my direction, and remain patient, you will heal with a minimum of permanent damage, perhaps not even a limp, except in bad weather. But if you try to go too fast, you risk a number of set backs, some of which could be permanent. I don’t care how many magic elixirs from talking trees you drank.”

Pippin opened his mouth, and then closed it with a snap. Diamond was standing behind her mistress, and the expression on her face said she was not impressed with his arguments, either.

So now he was stuck sitting here on the settee, bored. Bored.

Bored.

Eglantine glanced up from her stitching and saw Pippin’s face. She noticed that his foot on his good leg was twitching, and a few other subtle fidgets, and felt dismay.

Pippin had entered that dangerous stage of convalescence when he was still too badly off to be allowed out of bed, but was well enough to get bored. Though he was much older now, and nearly grown, she had no hopes he would ever outgrow this impatience with being laid up. His father certainly never had. Fortunately, Paladin generally enjoyed good health.

She decided to try a trick young Merry had taught her, when Pippin was still quite small, for temporarily staving off his boredom. It would not work for days on end, but it might stave off an impending outburst this afternoon.

“Pippin, it’s rather quiet around here. If you are feeling up to it, why don’t you sing for us?” She smiled at him. She enjoyed his singing anyway, as all the family did.

His face brightened at once. “What should I sing?”

Paladin glanced over at his son. “None of those scurrilous tavern songs you brought home from foreign places!” he said sternly, but with a twinkle in his eye. Some of those songs were quite amusing, but not for the ears of Pippin’s mother and sisters.

Merry glanced at his aunt, and winked. He knew what she was doing. “I know, Pip, how about that song for Aragorn’s coronation? I don’t think any of the family have heard it yet.”

Pippin nodded, with a grin. This was a favorite of his, and none of the family at home had heard it yet. He opened his mouth and began.

Eglantine sat back, satisfied for now, and listened with enjoyment.

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Later that evening when Pippin had been re-installed in his room, Eglantine sought a private word with her nephew.

“Merry, what are we going to do? Keeping him down for another month is going to be nearly impossible!”

Merry looked troubled. “I’m not sure, Aunt Tina. He was hurt so badly after the battle that it was not hard to make him rest, but still he was able to get up and hobble around before even two weeks were up. And Strider had a lot of little tricks for keeping him down that I’m not sure a hobbit healer could use. For one thing, if it came right down to it, he could use Pip’s oath of obedience as a knight when nothing else worked. Pip hated that, and it would make him extremely angry, but he’d obey. Now, I don’t know. There’s nothing else wrong with him but his leg.”

Eglantine nodded. “I was afraid of that.”

“If only there were something useful he could do that would keep him busy, even if it were something he didn’t much care for, it would help to pass the time.” Merry thought of some of the annoying busywork Éomer had given *him* to do when he had been wearing himself out taking care of Pippin and worrying about Frodo and Sam. He’d not much cared for it, but it had given him a badly needed break.

His aunt nodded. “I’ll put it to his father. Maybe he can think of something.”

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The next morning, it was only Merry and Pippin in the sitting room. They had played two games of draughts, which Pippin had lost because he was not concentrating. Then Merry had fetched him his fiddle and the shepherd’s pipes that Legolas had made for him. Pippin had played for a good long while, but he was starting to get a bit twitchy again. Merry decided he would draw the line if Pip asked for his Tookland pipes. Bagpipes were *not* meant to be played indoors, especially in a room like this, with no windows.

He had been saved from having to assert himself by the arrival of a servant with elevenses, and so for a good long while they were able to busy themselves with eating. Food, at least, was one thing Pippin had never yet been bored with.

They were down to the last little crumbs of apple tart and cheese, and their last cup of tea, when Paladin entered the room. He had his arms loaded with rather dusty yellow books. Behind him was a servant with another armload of newer looking books, and another servant carrying a small lap desk and writing implements.

“Good morning, lads,” said the Thain amiably. “Since you don’t have anything else to do, I have a task to set you.” He gave Merry a look, as if to say “you asked for it”.

“What’s that, Father?” Pippin asked warily. He was not fooled by his father’s hearty manner. Whatever he wanted them to do was probably *not* going to be much fun. But at least it would be *something* to do.

Paladin set his armload of books down upon the nearest side table. “These are some of our oldest records. They need to be recopied before they fade away altogether.” He gestured to the servants, who also found a place to put their burdens. “Here are some blank books, and plenty of quills and ink. Have fun, lads.” With a wink, he left.

The two hobbits looked at one another with dismay. With a sigh, Merry reached over and picked up the top one of the old record books. Maybe the bagpipes would not have been so bad after all.

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The next day after tea, Frodo was enjoying a pipe on the bench by the front door, when a pony trap pulled up at the gate. He walked down the path to see Rosamunda and Estella Bolger being handed down by their driver.

“Good evening, Frodo,” said Rosamunda loftily. “We are on our way to Tuckborough, and wondered if we might impose on your hospitality at Bag End for the evening.”

Frodo was a bit startled, but ever the polite host, he graciously said, “Why certainly, Rosamunda, my dear. Let us go up to the smial.” And he lent his arm to the older hobbitess, noting Estella’s apologetic expression as she stepped up to his other side. He politely showed them to two of the guest rooms. “I shall go let Sam and Rose know that we are two more for supper.” He nodded and left them.

Rosamunda looked at Estella, surprised. “You don’t suppose he is expecting the gardener and his wife to join us at the meal, do you?”

“Mother, I have told you before that Frodo no longer considers Samwise a servant. He is his friend, and I would think that you would remember the fact that Sam is considered to be of very high rank now, Outside. Do not make the mistake of snubbing him, or Rose, in front of Frodo if you ever want to enjoy the hospitality of Bag End again. And I must tell you that Cousin Tina is one hundred percent behind him in this, so you must not be complaining to her, either.”

Rosamunda looked at her daughter. “And I suppose that Meriadoc feels the same way,” she said, disgruntled.

Estella drew herself up proudly. “Of course he does. Merry stood with Sam at his wedding, if you will recall.” She smiled at the memory.

Rosamunda shook her head. There were entirely too many changes in the Shire these days. But she was wise enough to know when to bend.

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The next morning Merry and Pippin had sorted out their task. Pippin would decipher and read out the faded documents, and Merry would take quill in hand to enter the information into the new books. This worked much better than both of them trying to read and write, especially as Pippin’s penmanship, while fairly legible to friends and family who were familiar with it, was not really tidy enough to preserve for posterity.

They were trying to make out the information on Isengrim II, when Diamond entered the sitting room. This was the first time in several days that Mistress Lavender had sent her to check on Pippin by herself, but her Mistress had been called out late to one of the tenant’s holes, where there was a faunt suffering from a severe case of whooping cough, and had been up nearly all night seeing the child over a crisis. She was now a-bed in the healer’s cottage, and Diamond was taking her rounds this morning. Diamond had left Pippin until last.

“Good morning, Pippin, Merry. I’m here to check on you, Pippin.” She did not meet his eye, but took off her pendulum.

“Good morning, Diamond,” said Merry absently. He was vainly trying to spell out the name of Isengrim II’s wife. Pippin grinned at her, his ancestor completely forgotten.

“Hullo, Diamond.”

She risked a smile at him. His eyes widened at the sight of her dimples, and he gave an audible sigh.

She flushed. This was not going the way she had planned it. This was supposed to be completely professional and impersonal.

She took a deep breath, and sought the calmness at her center, counting her breaths, the ritual soothing her enough so that she could concentrate on what she needed to do.

She began to dangle the wooden heart on it’s silken cord, intent on the patterns it made. This was good. This was very good. He was continuing to heal at the rate he had begun, and it looked like Mistress Lavender’s prediction of only about four weeks to heal was correct. In fact, she might tell her mistress that it looked to her as though it might even be only about three weeks. She knew better than to say anything about it to the patient, though.

There was still a good deal of pain there to be endured.

“Are you still taking your willow-bark tea?” she asked sternly.

He sighed. “Yes, but not as frequently. It seems to be upsetting my stomach. I can put up with the pain.”

She nodded. That was a problem with willow-bark. It was rather acidic, and frequent dosing could cause some stomach irritation eventually. If he was able to manage his pain without it, that was probably good. She would mention this to Mistress Lavender as well.

“Have you given any more thought to Mistress Lavender’s suggestion?” The healers had learned why the Tooks all seemed to have an aversion to wheeled chairs, but they were trying to get them around it. It would make Pippin’s convalescence much easier.

He just shook his head. He hated to disappoint Diamond, but *some* things he could not do.

Just then Eglantine stuck her head in the door. “Oh, hello Diamond! Pippin, Merry, we have some guests come to stay for a few days.” She stood back and opened the door, allowing Rosamunda and Estella to enter the room before her.

Merry looked up, and the book in his hands dropped to the floor with a thud.

Pippin grinned at him. “Cousin, I ask you, is that any way to treat our illustrious ancestor?”

Merry didn’t answer. He didn’t even hear him.

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