Chapter 2. Special Delivery

'Faramir, see if you can find some blankets amongst the baggage. There's a chill in the air,' Diamond said.

'You ought to have your cloak back,' Pippin said, concerned for her, but she laughed.

'Carrying a babe everywhere I go is like having a hearth deep inside,' she said. 'I'm never cold these days.' She looked at him. 'I'm worried about you, lying on that damp ground. The last thing we need is another visit from the Old Gaffer's Friend.*'

'If I feel a cough coming on, I'll let you know,' her husband said. He was silent for a few breaths, then groaned.

'Does it hurt so badly, dear?' Diamond asked, worried.

'No,' Pippin said. 'I'm just calling myself six ways a fool. We should never have gone to Buckland.'

'Well, it wasn't all your fault, now was it? You were going to go by yourself, leave me to fend for myself in Tuckborough whilst you went off to see Merry... I couldn't let you go off in that way, without me to look out for you! Whenever the two of you get together, disaster follows close behind.'

'Disaster?' Pippin said, in mock outrage.

Diamond nodded. 'Disaster.' She gestured to the overturned coach, the darkening woods. 'See what I mean?'

Her husband laughed, but it turned to a grimace. Diamond raised her voice. 'Faramir, be careful! I think the coach is shifting; try to lift the bags off without putting any weight against the side.'

Faramir piped up in assent. Soon he was back with two bags. 'I think this one has blankets,' he said, 'and this other had brandy in it, don't know if it's still intact.'

Diamond checked; the bottles had been well enough wrapped to be still intact. The hobbits at Brandy Hall knew their business. She pulled the cork and held it to her husband's lips. 'I'd prefer it was something hot, but this will help to keep the chill off.'*

After he had drunk Diamond reclaimed the bottle and took a hefty swig herself. Pippin looked at her in shock, then memory stirred, the babe they had lost when she laboured too soon, and the midwife's attempts to stop the contractions by administering alcohol.

'The babe?' he whispered.

She smiled down at him. 'Don't you pay me any mind,' she said, but he heard the catch in her breath as she turned away to pull a blanket from the bag.

'Faramir!' he called sharply.

'Yes, Father,' his son was at his side.

'D'you still have your flint and steel?'

'Yes, Sir.'

Pippin said, 'I want you to gather sticks and wood, scrape underneath a fallen log for something dry for kindling. Start a fire, Son, will you?'

'Right away, Father.'

Pippin called after him, 'Don't go too far!'

Pippin reached out to catch his wife's hand. The face she turned towards him was streaked with tears. 'I can't stop it,' she said. 'I can't.'

'How long do we have?' Pippin asked softly. She shook her head. 'It'll be all right, Diamond, love, we'll get through this.'

'How many babes have you delivered, then?' she demanded.

'Well, none from under a coach, mind...' he prevaricated.

'How many?'

'Well, none at all, actually... but I was there when Faramir was born. I distinctly remember you squeezing my hand so hard you left it permanently bent.'

'That's something, I suppose,' she whispered.

'What d'you need to do, walk around?' he asked.

'No, I don't want to speed things up, I want them to slow down!' She took another swig of brandy. 'Ah, well, if it doesn't stop the labour it might at least make it more enjoyable.' Pippin coughed, and she held the bottle out to him. 'Here, you'd better have some of this as well.'

Pippin drank and passed the bottle back to her. She refused it, pulling the cork from another bottle, saying, 'No, that's all right, I've got my own.'

Pippin was shivering now, and Diamond insisted he drink a fair amount of the brandy. 'Well, I may die, but at least I'll die happy,' he said cheerily. 'Merry packed us some of Brandy Hall's finest, that's for true.' Diamond laughed and proposed a toast to Merry.

Faramir came back with his cloak full of wood, gave his parents an odd look, and began to build the fire.

Diamond suddenly put her bottle down and seized her abdomen, groaning. Faramir jumped to her side, and Pippin reached for her helplessly. Her groan changed to a terrible wordless cry.

'Mother, what is it?' Faramir said in fear.

'I can't stop it, I can't stop it...' she said, shaking.

'Faramir, it's your little brother, he's coming now,' Pippin said urgently. 'Your mother needs your help, lad.'

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' Diamond gasped, but her son smiled down at her.

'It's all right, Mother. I've seen kittens and pups and lambs and foals born, even a calf this spring. They all went about the same way...'

'Good lad,' his father said. 'Your mother will get herself ready, you just be ready to catch the babe when she says.'

The boy nodded.

'How's the fire coming?' his father asked.

'It's laid, I just need to spark it.'

'You do that,' Pippin ordered, 'Then I want you to tear one of the cloths used to wrap the brandy into little strips, can you do that? And when you're done, take my knife and hold the blade in the flame until it's very hot, then lay it down on another clean cloth. Unwrap all the bottles, fold up the cloths neatly, have them ready, we can use them to swaddle the babe.' Faramir complied quickly and competently. Meanwhile, Diamond was preparing herself as best she could.

Faramir returned, laid a blanket next to his father, eased his mother down. 'You'll have to reach up under my skirts,' she said, and turned her face away with a blush.

Her son smiled down at her and said, 'Don't worry, Mother, I'm just going to pretend you're a pony for the time being.'

Pippin laughed and said, 'You do that, Son.' Stroking his wife's cheek, he murmured, 'The lad's got a good head on him, Diamond, he's old for his age; it'll be all right.' At the look on her face, he said sharply to Faramir, 'Get ready, I think you're about to be a brother.'

Diamond threw her head back, biting her lip, gasping for breath. As Faramir reached, he shouted, 'I see it! I see a head full of hair! He's coming!'

'Push, Diamond, that's a lass,' Pippin murmured encouragement.

'I am pushing,' Diamond shouted. 'If you think you can do better you're welcome to try!'

'That's all right, lass,' Pippin crooned. He cocked an eye at Faramir. 'She's doing much better this time. With you, she called me all sorts of names, some of which I'd never heard before.'

'Aaaugh!' cried Diamond, and suddenly Faramir was holding a slippery, tiny body in his hands. He reached a finger into the tiny mouth to clear it, rested the babe face down on his forearm, gave the back a smack and there was the sound of a lusty cry.

'Tie off the cord in two places with those strips of cloth,' Pippin instructed. 'Tie it tight, then use the knife to cut between the ties. Good lad. Wrap him up, then,' Pippin said, 'And lay him on your mother's stomach.'

'No,' Diamond cried, 'No, something's happening.'

'Give me the babe,' Pippin said urgently, and Faramir passed the little bundle to him and lifted his mother's skirts again.

'There's another head!' he cried in wonder.

'Ah, Diamond, you've been eating for three all these months and you never told me,' Pippin said, cradling the babe with one arm and stroking his wife's hair back with the other.

Diamond gave another great cry, and Faramir had the second little body in his hands. This time he knew what to do, quickly tying the cord off and cutting it, then wrapping the babe and laying it on his mother's stomach. 'Looks like I got a little sister, in the bargain,' he said.

Diamond picked up the little daughter, crooning, 'Welcome to the world, little one! What a surprise you've given us.'

Pippin, remembering Faramir's birth, instructed his son in the necessary tasks following the birth. Soon the lad had taken care of all the details as competently as any apprentice midwife might do. He then took his cloak, wrapped the two babes together in it, and laid both in his mother's arms.

'Good work, Mother,' he said. 'You've done a fine job.'

Pippin chuckled. 'I do believe you used those same words to Lightfoot when she had her colt,' he laughed. He passed the bottle to his son. 'Here, have some brandy. You've done a man's job today.'

'I wouldn't say that, exactly,' Diamond smiled, blushing again. 'But he's certainly done some kind of job.'

****

Author's Notes:

*The Old Gaffer's Friendwas a Shire term for pneumonia

***

*Of course, today we wouldn't give alcohol to avoid being chilled, but they wouldn't have known that

***

Young Faramir acts very mature for his age (ten, going on eleven), but events in his young life (see "FireStorm") have caused him to grow up much faster than the usual hobbit child. Rather like a young friend of mine who died at age six from cancer, after a long battle... she was quite mature, and articulate. (Love you, Heather!)