Chapter Eight - The Truth Comes Out

“She’s all right…for now,” said Estella, quietly shutting the door to Sapphira’s room. “Poor lass feels horrified. I’m going to show her where the bathing room is so that she can clean up. It’s not…it isn’t what we thought it was.”

“Thank you, Stella,” said Pippin, relieved and grateful for her aid. “If she’s…” Pippin grew up with three older sisters, so he was no stranger to things of the female nature, however, it still made him blush a little. “…if she’s not on her monthly course, then what was it?”

“From a closer look at her dress and the smell of the liquid, it was red wine.”

Now Pippin understood what probably transpired. “Will you tell Sapphira that I will return shortly to check on her? I have a feeling who may have had a hand in all this.”

“As do I,” Merry put in. “I really must apologize, dear cousin. I should have known better.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Merry,” said Pippin. “Remember, until I arrived with Sapphira on my arm, you did not know that Posey and I had ended our courtship. Furthermore, You said that when she responded to the invitation she wrote that she was going to be escorted by another lad. If Posey is indeed the one behind Sapphira’s mishap, then it is she who will be held responsible.”

Stella stood listening to the exchange between her husband and cousin, also surmising what happened. She, too, had witnessed Sapphira’s humiliation in front of all the guests. Fortunately, few of the other guests thought the situation funny. When the tweenager discovered why folks were staring at her oddly, she became horrified, running out of the room in tears. Fury filled Estella’s brown eyes as she spoke to the lads, “Just let me know if Posey needs help packing. I won’t mind in the least being the one to show her to the door.”

“I am certain that you wouldn’t,” said Merry, giving his wife a peck on the lips. “But this is supposed to be a happy occasion for you, love. Please ask Laurel if she wouldn’t mind staying with Sapphira until Pippin and I return.”

“I will, but only after I show Sapphira to the bathing room first,” Estella answered.

“Very well,” said Merry, giving his love yet another, more softer kiss. He understood and agreed that taking care of an upset guest was of utmost importance. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said in response.

As Pippin and his dearest of friends walked away toward Posey’s room, the younger hobbit mused at how easily love and kisses passed between his “brother” and “sister-in-law”, how effortless it all seemed. Pippin longed for that sort of relationship, and hoped that he had found it with Sapphira.

* * *

The cousins knocked upon the door to Posey’s room. The rumour going round the party guests was that the dark-haired lass suddenly felt under the weather.

“She ought to be!” said Pippin rather unsympathetically. The plan was for he and Merry both to question Posey alone, and if found guilty, to send her home directly.

“I was expecting you,” said the lass passively as she opened her door. “My bags are already packed,” said Posey, opening the door further, revealing her overnight bag latched and ready to be carried off. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her embroidered handkerchief. “I won’t be staying the night, Merry. I’m sorry for…for what I did.”

“Don’t…apologize to me, Posey,” Merry said shaking his head as he walked inside. “The person you ought to be saying you’re sorry to is Sapphira--in front of the same guests you wronged her, and to my wife for disrupting her party with your behaviour.”

Pippin’s anger rose again as he took a step toward Posey. “Why? What did she ever do to you?” he asked.

Posey wiped another tear at the corner of her eye, “I…I…,” she sniffed.

Pippin folded his arms over his chest as he cast an indifferent eye toward his cousin. They had seen side-shows such as this before at fairs.

“I only wanted to speak with you for a moment--alone.” Posey gave her former beau the most imploring look she could muster. “Please.”

Pippin sighed heavily. “You wanted to speak to me? What for?”

“Its…,” she stammered, her eyes darted to Merry. “It’s personal. But truly, I still need to speak with you privately.”

“Why didn’t you just come out and ask instead of sending another lass to her room in tears?”

“I was desperate…,” she glanced nervously at Merry again. “May we speak alone?”

“After your malicious behaviour, no we may not,” answered Pippin. His eyes remained fixed on the lass he was once in love with. “I will not have you next going about Buckland and the rest of the Shire saying we were alone together, behaving indiscriminately. I simply do not trust you. I can’t say that I even know you anymore.”

Posey sat upon her bed, eyes cast to the ground. “All right,” she spoke softly. “The child is due in early Blotmath.”

Neither Pippin nor Merry knew what to say, merely looking at one another in disbelief. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that last part,” said Pippin. “Did you say…‘the child is due’--as in you‘re…?”

“Yes, I did. I just thought you should know.”

“I’ll…just be waiting outside the door,” said Merry, clearing his throat uneasily.

“No, please stay Merry,” said Pippin, stunned, but not for himself. “I am sorry for your situation, Posey, but if you’re suggesting that I am the father, you know very well that I am not. We have never been…that close.”

“You should have me raise the child alone?”

“Posey, I don’t know whom you have been consorting with lately, but fortunate for me,” he said with conviction, “my father taught me about such things when I was a young lad, and from what I remember, you and I would have had to be far more intimate than we were. I never took advantage of you.”

“Why don’t you just come out with the truth, Posey,” said Merry, standing by silently listening to the discussion. Inwardly, he was glad that Pippin had asked him to stay and would remain by Pippin’s side for as long as he needed him here.

Posey shot a look at the tall Brandybuck. “I beg your pardon.”

“In case you have not noticed,” Merry began, “my wife and I have not one, but two children. Each time Stella was expecting, the midwife advised her to stay away from strong drinks such as beer, brandy…red wine. Either you care not for your unborn child, or you are not expecting one.”

Posey blanched in horror. “I…I have not been seen by a midwife yet,” she said, slumping down upon her bed, “but…I am…quite sure of my condition. I was not aware of avoiding strong drinks.”

“You know about it now,” Merry said firmly, “and you ought to be seen immediately. Stay the night, and I will ask the Hall’s midwife if she can see you in the morning before you leave. You owe that much to your child. And you still owe Sapphira and Stella and apology.”

“Thank you,” said Posey then began to sob real tears, “and I shall. I want to gather myself first, if you please.” She added while sighing, My father says that I am to be wed by week’s end.”

“To the real father?” asked Pippin, making another attempt at ensuring his old love wasn’t going to point her finger at him.

Posey nodded her head sadly. “It was only once…at my cousin’s birthday party in Whitfurrows. It…it was the stable lad, taking the ponies from the party guests. He is the son of a sheep farmer. My mother is livid, saying I should be ashamed of myself.”

The first thing Pippin and Merry both thought was that Posey’s mother was angry with was her condition. “But…what’s done is done,” offered Pippin. “Your life won’t be the same, however, it will go on.”

The lass wiped her nose then continued, “She wasn’t speaking of my deed, she is horrified that I am to be the wife of a sheep farmer. Mother is the one who demanded that I accept the invitation to Estella’s party, telling me not to come home unless you’re with me, Pip. If I don’t, then I am surely to be married and out of the house by Highday.”

“That truly is sad,” said Merry, rolling his eyes when they met Pippin’s while Posey wasn’t looking.

“Yes,” agreed Pippin, “however, that does not excuse your reckless behaviour.” Pippin made to leave the room, gazing sorrowfully at the lass. “Goodbye, Posey.”

“In light of your condition, I will not send you home directly. Instead, I firmly suggest that you remain in your guest room until your departure tomorrow, that is, unless you publicly apologize to the lasses. I won’t have anymore trouble at my wife’s party.” Taking his leave, Merry added, “I will send word within the hour as to when the midwife will be able see you. Goodnight, Miss Posey.”

As the cousins ambled back to Sapphira’s room, Pippin commented in a low voice, “Marrying a shepherd! How embarrassing, indeed,” he clucked his tongue.

Merry covered his mouth to keep from laughing aloud, “True--and to think before him, she almost ended up marrying the son of a crop farmer!”

“I think I should go back with Posey,” announced Pippin, feigning insult. “I should muck the stalls in the heat of the afternoon, take a barrow full of manure out to the soil mix, then sit down at tea right between the two of them--just to watch them squirm!”

Merry snickered, scrunching up his nose at the thought. He had some vivid memories of his uncle Paladin dishing out such chores as punishment for some wee misbehaviour he and Pippin got caught at when they were young lads. After pondering it, Merry replied, “I think I would sooner muck the stalls than have life-long misery being married to Posey.”

“Aye,” Pippin concurred, “so true.”

~ ~ ~

“Here you go,” Pippin soothed the young tween moping at the tea table. He poured each of them a hot cup of tea to enjoy while they played the card game.

Long half-dried locks bound with a blue ribbon lay in a heap of wild curls down Sapphira’s back. The damp towel used for drying her hair hung over the back of her bedside chair. “I’ve never heard of such a game. What is a playing card?”

Pippin returned the kettle to the hearth then took his seat across from Sapphira. “It’s not just one card,” he said excitedly. “In Minas Tirith, they call it a ‘deck’.” He next began to shuffle the deck from one hand to the other. “I have to mix them up,” he added. “These belong to Merry--he let me borrow his deck. Mine is back home in the Smials. Here--,” he laid down a series of cards until he had what he sought. “There are suits of Hearts, Diamonds, Clovers, and Spades.”

“That’s a spade?” she asked, pointing to the odd shape on the card.

“I know--I don’t think it looks anything like one of Sam’s shovels, either, but that’s what they call it in the South. I shall divide the deck evenly and then we’ll begin the game.”

Sapphira watched intensely as Pippin alternately laid a card before each of them.

“Now, how this game is played, is the numbered cards are valued at whatever their number is. The cards marked with an A, K, Q, or Kn are high cards. They’re worth ten points each, however the court cards have a ranking.”

“What do the letters mean, Pippin?”

“Aces, Kings, Queens, and Knights.”

“Oh! A courtly game!” said Sapphira. “Do they play this game in the High King’s court?”

Without looking up Pippin replied, “No.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Actually, the Kn refers to Knaves, but Merry and I found we prefer Knights. Queens outrank Knights, Kings outrank them both, Aces outrank them all. I purchased my deck from the innkeeper we used to frequent in the City. Merry got his from a wager he won with Legolas.”

“Legolas is the dwarf you journeyed with?” she asked sincerely.

“No, love, he is the elf. Gimli is the dwarf.”

Sapphira drank deeply from her teacup; this would be a long game. She listened as Pippin instructed her in the rules of play. They would lay down a card simultaneously; the person with the higher valued card wins the hand, taking the cards. Matching cards are considered “war”; a second card is then laid face-down beside the matching card, then a third card facing up beside the second. Face down cards are turned over at the same time, higher valued card winning the entire hand.

Sapphira scrunched up her nose at all the rules. “Are we allowed to talk?” she asked sarcastically.

Pippin smiled, “Of course we are, although it takes away from concentrating on the game. But I suppose we’re not playing in a pub, so concentration isn’t all important.”

Sapphira laid down her first card when Pippin did. “My card is marked 7, yours is a Knight,” Pippin gently prompted her.

“I can see,” she said, sweeping the hand towards herself. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Pippin laid down another card with Sapphira. His King won over her 2. He swept the hand towards himself.

She laid her 5 card beside his 6. “About…well…if you ever still think about that Posey lass.”

Pippin laid his deck aside, then took Sapphira’s deck out of her hand. He took both her hands tenderly in his replying softly, “No, I do not. Not anymore. There was a time when she was all that filled my thoughts…but that has not happened in a long while. I don’t love her, Sapphira. I love you.”

Her hands still in his, Sapphira bowed her head, a tear falling to the table. Pippin quickly rose from his chair, going over to Sapphira. He turned her round to face him as he crouched at her feet. He held her face gently in his hands. “Shhh!” he comforted her, wiping her tears away. “I…I didn’t mean to…” he stammered, “I’m sorry if I am going too fast. I can go slower if you want.”

Sapphira wept, “It’s not that I don’t love you, Pippin. But…whenever I want to tell you so, I find that my heart cries out all the more for Hildebrand. I find that I still love him, too. I--I left him over a stupid argument.”

Pippin’s heart sank to his toes at her last remark, however, he wasn’t going down without a fight. He swept her damp curls away from her tear-stained face. “Sapphira dear…please don’t feel as if you have to respond right now, today, this very second. You already admitted that you also love me, but to say it, perhaps you just need a bit more time. We’ll take it slower, and when you are ready, you’ll let me know?” he asked. He watched Sapphira nod, then stood her to her feet, taking her into his arms. “I do love you. Do you believe me?” He felt her nod again, weeping into his shoulder.

TBC