Chapter Twelve - Fate Arrives

Diamond North-took sat comfortably on the bench swing in a shaded garden of Great Smials, breathing in the sweet fragrance of roses. Chirping birds gaily twittered in nearby hedges, their singing half-heard by the contented lass. The young tween felt a gentle Forelithe breeze tussle the soft strands of chestnut curls that framed her comely face. The lads were attending their music lessons on this Monday afternoon so Diamond had a couple hours of free time. She couldn’t help but let out a happy snigger. Here she sat under the sweet shade of a rose trellis in the rose garden at Great Smials. She--a lass only thirty years old, on her own--for all intents and purposes, and away from that…house.

Actually, it wasn’t exactly the house that she detested-- it was the structure that stood behind it. Diamond truly had no memories surrounding her father’s death, which made her feel utterly confused and fearful at these horrific sensations; constantly frightened of an imaginary dead hobbit that stalked her in her dreams.

Meanwhile in the garden, however, Diamond sighed with delight at the prospect of her future--and she had had no nightmares since taking up residence in her new abode…so far. She lazily pushed the bench swing with her toes on the ground while sitting with a very interesting book resting in both of her hands. It was a book about how to raise respectful Took children--written by Adamanta Chubb-Took. Apparently, this feat was a rather difficult one to accomplish. From what Diamond had read so far, she suspected that Adamanta’s greatest challenge had been her youngest lad, Isengar. Wilful, mischievous, saucy…yet somehow the experiences of rearing her first eleven children enabled her to survive the twelfth. Adamanta peppered the wee tales of her brood’s escapades with wry humour, so due to her own familiarity with a child’s behaviour, Diamond laughed much of the time, empathizing with the author.

“A fair day, isn’t it?”

Diamond startled in her seat, reddening at her solitary giggling. She covered her mouth in embarrassment, “I’m sorry--was I being too loud?”

Pippin sat down upon another stationary bench off to the side within the rose garden. His heart remained heavy; his recovery slow from his heartache. “No need to apologize, Miss Diamond. I was just taking a casual stroll to my favourite spot in the entire north garden.”

Diamond sat up straight, placing a marker in between the leaves of paper. “Am I intruding?”

Pippin smiled faintly, “No. I suppose the that question should be, am I intruding upon you?”

“No, sir,” replied Diamond. Their eyes met once more, although this time it was Diamond who quickly looked away.

Pippin mentioned nothing to the lass about her piercing gazes. He would ask her about them another time. He wearily looked about the garden, taking in a long breath. “I would prefer that you call me Pippin, if you please.”

Diamond thought about it then answered, “Very well. Then my answer should be, no, you are not, Mr. Pippin.” She smiled impishly.

Vaguely, Pippin returned her smile. “Well, you have lived here at the Smials for a week now--how do you like it?”

Diamond’s smile went wider, “I like it very much. I’m getting to know folks.”

“Truthfully?” asked Pippin sceptically. “You don’t miss your family--or perhaps a beau you ran away from?” Pippin couldn’t help his acerbic humour, his feelings still a bit raw from Sapphira.

“I don’t’ have a beau; I’ve never had one,” Diamond answered honestly and with understanding. In contending with her nightmares, young Diamond never gave much thought to a serious or steady beau. Who would want a lass who’s afraid of ponies and plagued with nightmares anyway? Truth be told, Diamond felt she would most likely end up a spinster. Where the understanding for Mr. Pippin came from, Diamond had no clue, yet it was there in her heart--and it was for Pippin. Compassion deep within her soul drove her to win his trust…his friendship. The poor fellow looked as if he could use a friend right now.

To further answer his question and put him at ease, Diamond revealed her not-so-secret plans for her life, however foolish they may sound to him. “I don’t care to have a beau right now,” she added, “I have recently discovered that love is far too complicated. I believe I shall fall in love…perhaps when I’m thirty nine or forty years old.”

Pippin held in his laugher; could this lass indeed be that innocent? “Thirty nine or forty?” he asked, suppressing a smile. “Not thirty five or thirty six?” He thought that perhaps his sister had plucked a wee piece of fruit too soon from the vine. Pippin fully expected the young tween to become homesick after another week. By then, Pimpernel hoped she should have another child minder in her employ. Pippin decided to change the subject.

“Have the lads given you any problems?”

“None at all,” Diamond replied, then smiled. “Hilly is so sweet! He is always cheerful, wanting to help. I suspect he gets it from watching Gelly. Gelly has been helpful since the day I started--explaining where things are kept, keeping Tilby occupied if Hilly requires my attention for just a bit. Tilby is delightful, too--his sense of humour seems to be developing, so his brothers and I have been the usual listeners to his invented funny stories.”

He didn’t let on, but Pippin was impressed with Diamond’s knowledge of his nephews. No matter though; he gave her exactly a week--when he figured the young tween would have had enough, purchasing the next available seat in the coach heading to the Northfarthing. Pippin took his timepiece out of his waistcoat pocket, opening it up. “I have a meeting in ten minutes,” he said rising up from his seat. “Please excuse me.” He started to walk off but then turned back to Diamond. “Lest I forget to mention it to Pimpernel, the lads’ studies will resume tomorrow. Please have the them in the library at eight o’clock sharp.”

~ ~ ~

It was quiet inside the small, dark room save for the restless breathing of the slumbering tween. She twisted and turned in her sleep in search of rest, however, she found none, entwining herself with the bed linen in the process. “Stop!” she repeatedly uttered in her sleep. “Go…”

Suddenly her eyes shot open; she bolted upright in her bed, heart pounding inside her chest. Diamond gasped for air, placing her hand upon her bosom as if to slow down her beating heart. The light! Where’s the light?, her thoughts screamed from within. Heart still thumping hard against her chest, Diamond fumbled in the dark toward her nightstand, her fingers searching for the candle she lit just before retiring, however, the twitching of her hand sent an unseen object crashing to the floor. Feeling as if the very walls were closing in upon her, Diamond gathered her courage, crawling on all fours toward the dimly lit crack beneath the hallway door. The tunnels customarily had a few wall sconces lit during the night hours. Finding the door handle, Diamond breathed in a sigh of relief as she drank in the blessed light. She sat upon the floor leaning against the wall shaking like a leaf.

“I wonder if I screamed this time,” Diamond whispered under her breath.

Pimpernel stirred when she heard something clatter to the floor in one of the back bedrooms. She sat up, turning up her bedside lamp. Her motherly instincts homed in on the possibility of one of her lads perhaps having a bad dream or for some reason couldn’t sleep. Pimpernel rose up, pulled on her nightcoat then lit the candle on her nightstand, taking it with her. She tread lightly in the darkness, not wanting to disturb her other lads--just in case the restless child turned over and fell back to sleep.

She first opened Gelly’s door, peering inside at her eldest quietly sleeping, curled up underneath his favourite blanket. Next, she went to the larger bedroom that Tilby and Hilly shared. There was a third bedroom that used to be the nursery, however, the lads paid a small price in sharing this larger one so that the they could have a playroom inside the apartment on rainy days. Both Tilby and Hilly were sound asleep. She briefly looked inside the playroom, although all three of the children knew better than to be in the playroom at this hour. Again, she found nothing amiss.

Puzzled, she turned back toward her own bedroom and then caught sight of a glowing light emitting from the crack under Diamond’s adjoining door. There seemed to be much more light than normal. She knew about Diamond keeping a candle lit, so this additional light was out of the ordinary. Rather than wake the lads with the noise of opening the adjoining door and hearing the subsequent conversation, Pimpernel walked back through the small hallway, through the eating area and then the parlour. Opening the round yellow door Pim winced at the bright light, then spied a lone small figure further down the hallway, sitting on the cold floor just outside her own door. Pimpernel carefully approached the lass.

“Diamond?”

Diamond didn’t look up, not wanting to reveal her tears and fear. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What happened?”

“The candle…went out,” Diamond sniffled. “I couldn’t see my way to the door…I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Was it a bad dream, Diamond?” A long moment passed before Diamond nodded, head still bowed. Pim crouched down next to the tween, taking Diamond’s hand in her own. She’d spoken with Pippin once after he had a go with his nightmares, so Pimpernel understood that it was vital for Diamond to have a light throughout the night hours. “You know,” she began, speaking softly to Diamond, “I have found that a nice glass of warm milk and nutmeg has helped me fall back to sleep after a fitful dream--or if I merely cannot sleep. There are still a few boarding servants still up and about in the kitchens; why don’t you go and ask one to prepare you a glass?” Pimpernel gave Diamond’s hand a gentle squeeze. “And tomorrow we shall see about getting a lamp for your room. They don’t go out as easily,” she winked.

Slowly Diamond stood to her feet. “You are very kind, Mrs. Brownfield.”

“Well,” said Pim now smiling, “I have found that it is to my advantage; in the past ten days you have managed to wrap all three of my lads around your fingers. That is not easily done--especially with Gelly. You are definitely a charming lass, Diamond, and I thank you for your hard work. Now then…get your nightcoat, clean your face, and then see about your glass of milk.”

“Yes, ma’am, and thank you,” said Diamond, already feeling better.

Diamond had done just as Mrs. Brownfield suggested and soon found herself walking toward the kitchens, counting the tunnels as she went so as not to get lost. Something Sapphira had taught her younger sibling before returning to Long Cleeve.

“Glass’ll be too hot for yer hands, miss,” said the tweenaged servant. “’Ere’s a mug for ye.”

“Thank you, Viola,” said Diamond, taking the mug with a tea towel wrapped around it.

“Are ye sure ye want no tray, miss?”

“No--I’m fine, thank you again.” Diamond marvelled at the youth of the servant. She and Viola were the same age, yet Viola had already been living at the Smials for ten years, beginning her apprenticeship at the ripe old age of twenty. “My ma died when I was nineteen an’ my dad couldn’t take care of us lasses,” said Viola when Diamond nonchalantly asked questions.

“I’m sorry, Miss Viola,” Diamond replied, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No pryin’,” said Viola. “Life happens, my ma used t’ say. And,” she chuckled without spite, “most folk just call me Viola. No ‘miss’, if ye please.”

“It was nice to meet you, Viola,” Diamond smiled, turning toward the door.

“The kitchen mistress is goin’ t’ let me stew the meat for tomorrow’s supper,” said Viola excitedly, “ye got t’ let me know how the Thain and the Mistress like it.”

Diamond hesitated, “I only eat with Mrs. Brownfield and her family when invited--but I daresay that I eat the same food that they do. I shall send word to the kitchens if I hear Mrs. Brownfield compliment the supper afterward.”

“Thank ye!” Viola truly liked this new child minder and told Diamond so, unaware that the two were related. “She was nice, but always sad…kept t’ herself mostly.”

Diamond genuinely smiled--to be considered “better” than her sister was indeed high praise. “Thank you again, Viola. Goodnight to you.”

“And ye,” curtsied the servant.

Diamond strolled back to her room with a spring in her step, warm mug in hand. As she walked, Diamond mused further on her late night kitchen conversation with Viola. She nearly forgot about her nightmare until she counted down…four…three…two… Just as she reached “one” and began to round the last corner, Diamond was suddenly knocked back with a force, spilling warm milk all over her and her nightcoat.

“Diamond?”

Diamond gasped, feeling warm and sticky…milk all over the floor. Fortunately, she did not lose her grip on the mug. “I will get a mop and clean it up,” she said, looking around for a place to put the dripping mug yet finding none. “I’m sorry, Mr. Pippin--I should have been paying attention.”

Pippin also had some milk spilled all over his own nightcoat, but not too much. He would survive, although it appeared the young tween would melt soon. “Wait, wait, Diamond,” he said, gently taking the mug from the bemused lass. “We both should have been paying attention. I, too, am sorry for the mess, but--why are you up so late?”

Diamond looked down at her feet, feeling quite embarrassed. “I…I couldn’t sleep.”

Weary himself, which was due to his own restlessness, Pippin sighed at the young lass. At this moment, she appeared so vulnerable. “I couldn’t sleep, either. Go and clean up while I go fetch us both a mug of warm milk--with nutmeg, right?” he added the last. He saw Diamond nod.

“Yes, Mr. Pippin--made by Viola.”

Pippin winked at the anxious lass, “Viola makes the best warm milk. When I return, would you like to play a game of Draughts?”

“I would like that,” answered Diamond. She had decided last week that fate would be her guide as for friendship with Mr. Pippin. Well, it seemed that fate was here tonight. Diamond often thought of what she would say to the heartbroken lad should a chance meeting happen. She decided that a game of Draughts would be a great tool for getting her drowsy again--and for befriending the sad hobbit.

She didn’t have long to wonder about what she would say. After Pippin left for the kitchens, Diamond went to change clothes; soon both hobbits were sitting in the common room at a game table. She watched as Pippin reverentially opened a wooden casket he brought in, carefully taking out the game pieces and playing board.

Pippin noted that Diamond saw his odd reverence toward the game. “This game was a special gift from a dear friend in Minas Tirith” he explained while small discs painted in deep red and black rolled upon the finely crafted leather game board.

“Minas Tirith…,” repeated Diamond thoughtfully. “What sort of place is Minas Tirith? Is it a hamlet near Bree?”

Pippin did his best to hide his smirk. “No. It is a large city made with white stone upon a mountainside. Rising seven levels to the pinnacle, where the High King sits on his throne.”

Diamond’s eyes widened with awe; imagining such a city was incomprehensible to her. Hobbiton and Tuckborough were the largest towns she had ever been to in her life. For now, it was enough to know that Minas Tirith was in the south--where the High King dwelt. Young Diamond opted to ask about something a little more understandable. “May I inquire about the dear friend who gave you this game? How did you meet him--and what pressed him to give you such a generous gift?

“Yes, you may,” answered Pippin, suddenly laughing at her inquisitiveness. Pippin realized that he felt comfortable round the young lass; comfortable enough to speak about his journey south. Not so much about the Quest itself, but he saw no harm in talking about the places that he had seen and people that he met along the way. He paused in thought, trying to recall if Posey or Sapphira had ever asked such a question…and he came up empty.

“His name is Beregond,” answered Pippin. “At the time of my journey, he lived in Minas Tirith, but now lives in Emyn Arnen. There, he is Captain of the White Company, the Guard of Lord Faramir--the Prince of Ithilien.”

Diamond laughed to her herself, Princes and Kings! For as much as she believed Pippin, Diamond also imagined that she was getting in a bit over her head. Outwardly, she remained composed. “You didn’t say why Mr. Beregond gave you this lovely game,” she said with genuine interest, placing her red discs upon the black squares.

“I was getting to that,” said Pippin, taking a sip of his milk. “Storytelling is thirsty business.” He saw Diamond laugh and it made him feel…better. Not good, but better than he had in recent days. “As I was saying…”

On they talked into the night.

TBC