Chapter Five - Roses and Rhymes

Pippin’s eyelids fluttered under the deep shade of crimson, feeling the heat from the bright sun shining upon his face. Someone please shut the curtains, Pippin whispered to himself, feeling his headache emerge from hidden crevices within his brain. Then he heard the murmuring of soft voices nearby. “…have him….at least until supper…Yes, I believe so…” The first whispering voice belonged to Donnabelle. Pippin opened his eyes to see whom the other voice belonged to. Two people stood near the door to his bedroom: his father and Pimpernel. Pippin mused that his father wasn’t much of a whisperer, so the other voice had to belong to his sister. He stirred under the blankets, moaning softly, “Oh…what time is it?”

All three hobbits turned to see the patient wake. “Good morning, Pippin,” Paladin greeted his son. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling…all right,” Pippin replied. He reached his hand up to his head to discover exactly what it was that weighed his head down. Feeling a damp towel with melting ice, Pippin let his fingers follow the trail of water down his temple to the pillow; it was also damp. He pulled off the wet towel. “But I asked the time, Father. Do you know what time of the morning it is?”

Paladin then gave a brief smile to his son, answering, “It’s nigh unto noon, son.”

“Noon?” Pippin said with alarm. “It--it can’t be noon!”

“I’m afraid it is,” Pimpernel put in. “Well, in twenty minutes it will be. You’ve slept through the entire morning.”

“But…” Pippin wondered aloud. “My headache is a little better…it’s not as bad as yesterday evening.”

“That is probably due to the restful sleep you’ve had,” said the healer. “Pimpernel became worried when elevenses came and went and there was still no hint of you waking. I fear it was I who most likely interrupted your slumber; mere moments ago I pried open your eyelids to examine your eyes.”

Pippin took in a long, deep yawn, “Well…I am awake now,” he said sitting up. “I think I should like a bit of breakfast.” He started to throw open the covers to rise up.

“No, Pippin,” said Donnabelle, walking in Pippin’s direction, “I want you to remain in bed--at least until supper. By then your headache should be almost gone.”

“But I feel fine now,” Pippin repeated his earlier statement. “My father and I have an important meeting this afternoon.” Pippin sincerely looked forward to spending the afternoon fishing with his father.

“We can always reschedule that meeting,” said Paladin, winking his eye. “The important thing is to allow your head to fully heal from your…accident.”

“I suppose we can,” Pippin answered, looking away from his father’s gaze.

“In fact, I will go at once to my study and plan it all out,” said the elder Took.

“I shall look forward to it,” said Pippin somewhat passively. There’s nothing to plan for another fishing trip, he thought. He’s going to his office to take a nap.

“Do stay in bed, Pippin,” said Donnabelle, then turned to walk out of the room behind Paladin.

“I’ll send someone in with a breakfast tray, Pip,” said Pim before taking her leave.

Pippin half-dozed in the peace and tranquillity of his bedroom; nevertheless, quiet could be loud at times. His headache grew again, bit by bit, as did the silence in waiting for his breakfast. At this point, Pippin would welcome any company that would divert his attention away from his aching head. Perhaps food would help chase it away. At length, he heard a knock upon his bedroom door. “Come in,” he answered, wincing at the magnification of his own voice upon the walls. The door creaked open, seemingly of its own accord, then a familiar face emerged.

“Hullo, Uncle Pippin,” said Gelly as he entered. In his hands, the lad precariously balanced a tray laden with three bowls of steaming food, a small pitcher of apple juice, and a glass full of the same liquid. Trailing him inside the room was a young servant named Dora carrying yet another tray that had a plate, silverware, and napkins on it.

“Can ye manage, master Gelly?” asked the young tween.

“Aye,” said Gelly, walking slowly, eyes locked on the contents of the glass so as not to spill more juice than he already did.

Pippin scooted up in his bed to receive his breakfast then reached out a hand to help his nephew as he drew near. Pippin politely waited for the servant to leave the room before teasing the lad. “This is a wonderful surprise, Gel. Did you escape your lockhole or was your mum merciful, taking pity on her wee prisoner?”

Gelly rolled his eyes at hearing his uncle’s remark. “I was let out, thank you!”

“I notice that you’re talking to me this morn--, I mean, this afternoon,” said Pippin.

“I wasn’t angry at you, Uncle Pip,” Gelly answered dolefully, sitting down in the same chair his mother vacated a short while ago. “I was angry…but I didn’t know who to be angry at. No one seems to listen to me.”

“I listen to you,” said Pippin, trying to reach the second tray for his plate. “Or at least I try to.” Gelly got up from the chair to help Pippin grab it then began to spoon out servings of eggs and sausage onto his uncle’s plate.

“Mmm--this looks delicious!” said Pippin. “Eggs, sausage, bread, butter, fresh cucumbers, and hot buttered mushrooms!”

“Don’t you still have a headache?” asked Gelly in hopes that his uncle’s stomach would not have much of an appetite.

“I do, but it won’t get in the way of eating,” Pippin replied while using a fork to impale a few mushrooms. As he savoured the flavour of the juicy delicacy inside his mouth, Pippin saw the hungry look in the youngster’s eyes. “Come on, Gel,” he said, inviting the lad to sit next to him on the bed. “Perhaps I might need a bit of help.”

“I already ate at elevenses,” replied Gelly unpersuasively.

“But you’re a growing hobbit-boy--I know you must be hungry again.”

Gelly took his uncle’s invitation, climbing onto the tall hobbit’s bed. “How did you know?”

“I keep telling you,” said Pippin, trying to talk around a mouthful of food. “I was your age not too long ago.”

“But that was ages ago, Uncle.”

Pippin almost choked. “It was not. Anyway…speaking of ages, I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but I had a wee bit of misfortune.”

Grinning, Gelly swallowed his bite-full of eggs. “Yes--the whole smial is talking about it.”

“Thank you, Gelly,” said Pippin, sounding rather stoical, then gazed thoughtfully at the lad. “But…I think I know what’s bothering you. You despise being minded by a nursemaid, don’t you?” There was a pause, virtually imperceptible as Gelly continued to eat, yet he said nothing. Pippin knew he hit the proverbial nail on the head.

At length, Gelly looked up at his uncle, “She’s really a nice lady, but…I’m almost a teen.”

Pippin went on with addressing his nephew. “I talked to your mum last night, but she won’t agree to your independence until you change your behaviour. And I tend to agree.”

“But Uncle Pippin--the lads laugh at me,” Gelly implored, “calling me a faunt.”

“You have been behaving like a faunt,” Pippin commented, letting his words sink into the boy’s head. “Faunts toddle off to heaven knows where, heedless of dangers that lurk round corners. Yes--you will be thirteen in less than two months, and my advice to you is that you redeem your mother’s trust. Instead of running off, why don’t you volunteer to help Miss Sapphira with your brothers? Accept more responsibilities as the eldest brother; they look up to you, you know. Hilly is the youngest and benefit’s the most from Miss Sapphira, so offer to help out with Tilby when she’s busy. Assist him with his studies while she is giving Hilly his bath for the night or helping him choose clothes for the day.”

“If I do this, then mum will allow me to come and leave as I please?”

Pippin laughed, “Probably not until you’re a tween, but I know she will indeed see that you’ve grown to the point where you no longer need Miss Sapphira. Do you understand what I’m saying, Gelly?”

Gelly nodded, “I suppose.”

“Good--then I fully expect Tilby’s multiplication sums to improve considerably with your help.”

Later that evening, Pippin was released as Donnabelle’s patient. After he ate supper with his family, Pippin decided to take a stroll out in the garden to watch the sun set. He walked slowly in order to fully enjoy the fragrance of newly cut grass and the blossoms of spring. While Pippin meandered along the path taking in the beautiful golden hues of the sky, he spied his favourite bench near the rose bushes overlooking the rolling green meadows below. As he drew nearer, he noticed a lass sitting there all alone.

“Good evening, Sapphira,” he said, waiting for the invitation to join her.

“Hullo, Pippin,” she answered. Too late to run off, she thought, he’s probably already noticed my red eyes. “I’m not much company now, but please--sit down if you have a mind to.”

To Pippin, this normally merry lass sounded rather nasal. He took the seat next to her, gazing tenderly while he did so. “You’ve been crying.”

“Yes, Pippin, I have.” She sniffed, looking away to wipe her cheek.

“I’m sorry--that was rude of me,” he said. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” asked Sapphira, her eyes fixed on the cuff of her sleeve, fidgeting with the button.

“It’s just that…well, it makes me sad to see you thus.”

“Don’t be--please.”

“Would I be intruding if I asked you why you were crying?” asked Pippin, handing the tween his handkerchief. (Yes, he actually started carrying them a few years ago.)

“Thank you,” she said, taking the soft white cloth. “No, you wouldn’t be intruding, but…I really am not ready to talk about it.”

Pippin wondered if Sapphira was weeping over her long lost love…then again, he didn’t want to think on that. “Perhaps you long for home?” he said kindly, offering her--or himself--a way of escape.

“Perhaps,” she answered, keeping her sadness to herself. “My sister says that I’m emotional.”

Ah--something to talk about. “Which sister? You mentioned before that you have two of them--and a brother.”

“Yes--on both accounts. Diamond says that I’m emotional, and Gemma says that I’m bossy.”

Pippin smiled, then laughed. “Is that so? And what about--Valdigrim, is it?”

Sapphira dried her tears once more, then smiled. “Very good, Pippin--you remembered. He is the youngest and I am eldest, so to him everyone is bossy.”

“Poor lad!” said Pippin, casually taking Sapphira’s hand in his to ease her a bit. “I can understand his grief,” he winked at her. “I grew up with three older sisters as well. Tell me more about your family. What does your father do?”

If Sapphira was surprised at Pippin holding her hand, she didn’t show it. She rather liked the feel of his hand; warm, gentle. Sapphira took in a deep breath then slowly let it out before she spoke. “My father died when I was sixteen.”

“I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not prying--it’s been a while…and I can talk about it without crying. Well…hopefully not tonight anyway. He was umm…he was trodden beneath a pony inside my uncle’s barn.”

The sun had set, leaving the twilight to shine upon the tears welling in Sapphira’s eyes. Finally, Pippin put his arm around the lass to console her, pulling her close to his shoulder to lay her head upon. Pippin affectionately squeezed her hand as he leaned back in his seat to let her weep for her father.

When the tears passed, Sapphira wiped her eyes again. She let her own shoulder nestle underneath Pippin’s, her head rested upon his chest. “I’m a blubbering mess this evening,” she sniffled.

“No, you’re not,” Pippin answered softly, loosing her hand to tenderly hold her chin. Their eyes met; her eyes were hazel pools and in them Pippin saw sadness…loneliness. He leaned in closer, wanting to kiss those things away…yet he did not. Had their friendship come this far? Instead, he looked away, blushing. “I’m sorry,” he said, fixing his gaze outward towards the meadow. The distant rolling hills glowed indigo with the dim light of the rising new moon.

Sapphira regained her composure after nearly losing herself in the depths of Pippin’s green eyes…his lips. Within the span of a moment, she realized that this lad was the only friend that she had made since arriving at Great Smials over a month ago. Pippin had always been kind to her, offering his friendship to a tweenaged lass who indeed seemed friendless and far away from home. Yes, Sapphira was lonely; she missed home…in many ways. Without forethought…

While Pippin gazed out toward the meadow, he felt his own chin being pulled back into the direction whence it came…and then…a gentle, warm kiss upon his lips. He parted his lips in answer, deepening the kiss. Pippin warmly cupped his hand around her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb as his lips pressed against hers.

Sapphira felt her body begin to respond to Pippin’s touch…his passion. She quickly rose up from her seat, red-faced and stammering, “I…I have to put the children to bed.” Pippin said nothing, watching the young maiden hasten away towards the garden gate.

* * *

In the days leading up to Estella’s birthday party, Pippin often relived that kiss in the garden--and each time it grew more in the “seeing”. Chance did not afford them time alone as it did that evening, however, the pair managed affectionate smiles and greetings in the hallways until the eve of their departure to Buckland arrived.

After morning studies were over, Sapphira arrived to claim the boys as usual, however, when she did so, Pippin had yet another fantasy of the kiss they shared several days ago. This time even Pippin shook himself awake, I need to get out for a sniff of air…or take a cold bath.

“I am very happy that you have come back to us, Pippin,” said Eglantine, waking beside her son arm-in-arm. “We missed you so much while you were away living at Crickhollow,” she said, patting his hand, then stopped walking. Eglantine said more seriously, “I missed you, my dear--and yes, your father also, though I fear he also missed his fishing companion.”

Pippin smiled at his her words. “Well…I am back,” he said, kissing his mother’s cheek.

Eglantine gave her son a sidelong glance as they resumed walking. “Are you…sleeping well?”

“I’m fine,” he answered evasively, admiring the leaves of the shrubbery shimmering in the warm afternoon breeze. Pippin did not want to think about those hideous nightmares at the moment. “Are you getting tired, Mother, or shall we go further on to the rose garden?”

“I should like to see my prize winning namesake,” she smiled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “I believe Pimpernel and the boys are spending time there this lovely afternoon.” She winked at her boy, “Pimpernel let Gelly come outside for his good behaviour.”

“Very well, then!” Pippin smiled; Gelly seemed to be taking his advice to heart after all. “Onward we shall go.” The pair leisurely made their way along the winding paths towards the rose garden. As Pippin saw the white-washed inner gate draw near, he could hear raucous laughter with intermittent singing of children’s rhymes.

Eglantine gave a small cry of joy, “Ah! The dears are playing games.”

“Indeed they are,” Pippin remarked dryly. Once again, he saw young Hilfred with a skipping rope in his hands. After the little talk his sister had with him, Pippin said nothing, although his expression said all.

“Oh come, Pippin!” said Pimpernel, peering from round a high trellis filled with pink rose blossoms and buds. She, too, held a rope though somewhat larger than her son’s. “Why don’t you try it? I just know you’ll have fun!” she winked at him.

“I will not, thank you!” Pippin glared at his sister’s invitation.

“Why not, Pippin?” asked Eglantine. “You used to enjoy it when you were a wee lad.” Pimpernel and Gelly burst out laughing.

“I don’t remember, Mother,” said Pippin, scowling at his deep, dark childhood secret being revealed.

“We have an extra rope, Pip,” said Pim, laughing. “Here--take it!” Pippin let the rope deflect off his body while he assisted his mother to settle upon the bench. Pimpernel teased her brother all the more. “Oh don’t be such a killjoy!”

“I’ll just sit here with mother--” Just then Pippin noticed Sapphira holding her own length of rope on the other side of the court. “--and watch.”

“Watch me, Grandma!” shouted Hilly. With the skill of a beginner, the small boy hopped with both feet as he twirled the rope over his head, singing:

“Hair pins, bonnets, ribbons, and lace,

All to show my pretty face.

Ruby lips from a sweet, sweet kiss,

Soon to be in wedded bliss!”

Eglantine clapped her hands, “That is very good, love!” Then showered her youngest grandson with kisses as he nestled between his uncle and grandmother on the bench.

“No, no, no, no, no!” said Pippin standing up. He couldn’t take it anymore. “This is all wrong. My nephews do NOT wear bonnets, ribbons, nor lace.”

“That’s what Tilby and I have been saying all along, Uncle,” said Gelly. “We rather like jumping rope but we refuse to sing those silly lass-rhymes.”

Pippin took the rope from his sister threw at him then stood thinking hard for a moment. “I’ve got one.” With the skill of an expert, Pippin began to jump over his rope as he let it sail overhead, then sang:

“Toads, frogs, fireflies, snails,

Don’t forget the puppy-dog tails;

Dirty breeches, dirty face

Can you keep up with the pace?

Don’t be angry, don’t be sad,

These are things that make a lad.”

Having finished his turn at the rope, Pippin briefly bowed, accepting everyone’s applause. When he stood up he especially took note of Sapphira fervently clapping her hands and smiling. “Here you go, Pim,” he said, giving his sister the rope back.

Pimpernel gave her little brother a nod of appreciation. “No more?” she asked. “That was very entertaining.”

“Not, I pray, for a long time,” said Pippin sitting down, and a tad out of breath. Instantly his three nephews gathered round him for more ‘lad’ rhymes. “Tomorrow,” begged Pippin, “if you all behave during your study time--we’ll make up more of them.”

“Pimpernel, dear,” Eglantine called to her daughter, “please come sit with me for a bit. I must speak with you about the food hampers we’re taking to the Loomweavers on Sunday.”

While Pimpernel was busy discussing the project with her mother, the boys felt a sudden urge to refine their rope jumping skills--while singing lad songs. With everyone’s attention distracted, Pippin nonchalantly made his way over to Sapphira.

Sapphira eyeballed him, “So…you’re a bit practiced at skipping rope, aren’t you?”

Pippin blushed, “Maybe…but the lads used to ruthlessly tease me. That is why I reacted the way I did a few days ago.” He was relieved to see the lass smile and nod. “Are you ready for an extremely long carriage ride tomorrow?” Pippin asked her.

Sapphira replied while coiling up her rope, “I rode all the way from Long Cleeve, remember?”

Pippin thought on that for a moment. “True,” he answered, smiling. “You’ll love Brandy Hall. It is…well, you’ll see. It’s much the same as the Great Smials, yet different--delightful in its own way.”

Sapphira smiled, “I am looking forward to it.”

TBC

Thank you to my mentor, Pearl Took, for her assistance with the verbage in the kissing scene.