Chapter Thirteen - Settling In

A fortnight went by as Diamond continued settling in to her room at Great Smials. She had rearranged all the furniture in her room with the help of Pimpernel, chose a beautifully woven tapestry to hang upon her wall, and then noticed a rather lovely drawing of a charming farm smial, although she had no idea whose farm it was nor who drew the sketch. Printed in the bottom right corner was an inscription “MB”. She silently thanked “MB” for his--or her--lovely rendition of Shire living, then up it went on the wall above her desk. Diamond sewed colourful ruffles onto her pillow linens and then did the same for her quilt. No one colour overtook the others; she liked them all equally, however, she felt that the bright reds did much to cheer her room--as did the lovely window! The reward of living on the same side of the tunnel as the Thain and his children was having her own window. All the rooms on this side had windows; the rooms on the other side were the family’s personal dining room, parlour, and bathing rooms.

In between the times of watching the lads and decorating her room, Diamond kept busy with getting to know various other hobbits on staff. She continued to cultivate her rapport with Mr. Pippin, and her friendship with Viola grew, as did newer ones with the gardener and Mistress Took’s personal servant.

Mr. Greenhill, the gardener, had helped Diamond plant her very own lilac bush in the north garden near a small bench that she imagined would afford her solitude to think, or when she just wanted to be alone. Diamond sometimes fell into a melancholy after a bout with her nightmare, though it rarely lasted longer than a day or two. Mr. Greenhill had a wife and two young lads, all living in the Smials. He, like Viola, had arrived at Great Smials as an orphan.

Mrs. Poppy served as Mistress Took’s personal attendant. With her, it was initially all small talk, however, the lass soon warmed up to the friendly new child-minder. A mere five years older than Diamond, Poppy did not live and board in the Smials like Viola or Mr. Greenhill, but had a husband that she went home to every night in Tuckborough. Diamond learned directly from Poppy that the lass had married three years ago and had not yet conceived. This continually worried Poppy, and Diamond would often console her friend when the anxiety of it all overwhelmed her.

Diamond quickly became known among the staff at the Smials as the “wee social minder”. Not that anyone thought she was nosy, but to them, young Diamond seemed to intermingle more with the other hobbits in the Smials than Mrs. Brownfield’s pervious child-minder, who would much rather curl up with a book from the library.

Currently, Diamond was spending the afternoon quietly indoors sewing her new curtains--to match her quilt and pillow linens, of course. She hummed a merry song as she stitched the hem. Pimpernel had taken her lads on a small picnic to a pond near to the farm where she and Pippin grew up. Diamond gazed at the sketch upon her wall, wondering if the farm where Mrs. Brownfield grew up looked anything like that one.

Something caught her attention at the hall door. She blinked in surprise to see that a white envelope had been slipped inside under the crack. “Post!” a hobbit’s voice emanated from outside in the hallway. A letter! Today was the first time an envelope had been delivered to Miss Diamond North-took. Diamond excitedly laid aside the curtains then got up from her rocking chair to fetch the letter. She eagerly read the sender’s name: Mrs. Sapphira Haymaker.

Her legs suddenly growing weak, Diamond sank onto her bed, staring at the strange name. Sapphira Haymaker…that could only mean one thing. Tears welled in Diamond’s eyes, blurring the script upon the envelope. Diamond thought for sure that Sapphira would wait to be married--at least until she could get the time off to travel north to be at her sister’s wedding. Sapphira knew that Diamond wanted to be there. The tween wiped at the tears that fell, wondering at what she missed.

Diamond heard the lads’ voices entering Mrs. Brownfield’s apartment. They were home! Not wanting to answer a host of questions as to why she was teary-eyed, Diamond quietly slipped out her hall door. She only wanted enough time to compose herself. Diamond decided that the library should be the best place for quietude, so she headed for that particular tunnel. Her only thought was to escape with a book--not so much to read it, but to ward off people who may want to commiserate, seeing her red puffy eyes. For now, Diamond, the “wee social minder” sought solitude. What she didn’t expect was the music she heard as she drew near to the library door. The music wasn’t coming from inside the library, but it emanated from a room a couple more doors down the hallway--closer to the dead-end portion of the tunnel.

* * *

Pippin immersed himself deeply into his favourite instrument--the one that best expressed his innermost feelings. His chin rested upon his violin as he closed his eyes, once more reliving the memories…

“Are you going to bury me?”…

Pippin again saw Bergil running up the streets of the city while running errands for the healers at the Houses of Healing.

“…tell them up there that I have a sick hobbit, a perian, mind you…”

In his music room, eyes still closed, Pippin moved the bow over the strings, bringing forth the melody he had composed in his head. Memories flashed in his mind of his dear Merry lying injured and unconscious in his lap drew tears. Pippin’s emotions resonated through his music room by way of the instrument in his hands; the tears pooled beneath his eyelashes to slowly roll down his cheeks. He had never felt so frightened and helpless than at that time in the streets of Minas Tirith.

He played on, the mournful music filling his soul.

Pippin next saw his beloved cousin in the Houses of Healing, face ashen, wandering aimlessly in dark dreams. He had listened all the day long to Merry’s cries while he slept in his fitful slumber. Cries that now echoed in his head…

The music rose to a crescendo; it overwhelmed Pippin’s entire being, biting deep into his heart. He continued to play his violin until the strength in his arms began to fail.

When he could play no longer, Pippin angrily flung his bow at the wall. Full of pent up emotions he sank to the tattered old chair set behind him--sweating, out of breath, and in tears. Pippin was angry that these memories would go on and on for the rest of his life. In truth, he was relieved that playing his violin would be one of the few outlets given him to express his anger, his fears, and even the few joys from the Quest. Pippin inwardly wondered if Merry had picked up his favourite hobby of sketching again. He had let it fall by the wayside when he became of age…and obsessed with a certain engaging lass named Estella. Pippin contemplated what sort of dark tales his cousin’s portraits should tell.

Before leaving his room, Pippin gathered the scattered parchments on the table that had musical notes written on them. Generally, hobbits did not write their music on paper; not many hobbits knew their letters let alone possessing the knowledge to actually write music. Pippin had already been tutored in the basic knowledge when a child, however, he picked up much more during his and Merry’s first obligatory duty rotation in Rohan and Minas Tirith five years ago. The realm of Gondor was filled with skilled musicians.

Pippin sniffled, wiping his nose, eyes, and brow with a pocket-handkerchief then readied to leave. Leaving his sheet music in a neat pile upon the table, Pippin expected that he would too soon return to his small sanctuary within the walls of Great Smials. Furthermore, as he opened the door to exit, he didn’t expect to see a particular young lass sitting upon the cold stone floor near the threshold.

“Diamond?”

Embarrassed, the young lass jumped to her feet. “I--I…” she fumbled for her tongue, eyes cast to the decorative stone. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

Pippin raised an eyebrow. “Then, pray tell, what were you doing sitting at my door?”

Diamond gaped in surprise. “Your door? I thought that you lived--” she turned back in the direction of the hallway opening, gesturing toward the Thain’s tunnel.

“I don’t live here,” explained Pippin to the distraught lass. “It’s my room in that it…well, when I seek to be alone I come here.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Mr. Pippin,” said Diamond. She took note of several small scars on the lad’s arms and wrists. Self-conscious about his scars, Pippin tugged firmly on his shirtsleeves, covering them up again. Diamond flustered once more. “I…I thought the music was…beautiful. Was…was it you playing?”

Ever the mischievous one, Pippin looked back inside his room then smirked. “Hullo!” he called inside the room and then turned to Diamond, “No…nobody else inside.” Pippin thought that a bit of humour might put the lass at ease. But Diamond wasn’t smiling. Pippin sighed gloomily, realizing he had been inconsiderate. “I’m sorry,” he said more softly. “Seems we’re both saying that a lot lately.”

Diamond said nothing, her face still downcast.

Pippin would have sworn that he saw a teardrop fall just now. “What’s wrong, Diamond?” he asked sincerely. “Come in and sit,” he said, gently bringing her inside “his room”. Pippin set the lass in the same chair he sat in a mere minute ago then checked the hallway outside for busybodies. After his run-in with Posey, Pippin wasn’t taking any chances; he propped the door wide open with another table chair.

Pippin then went to an old bureau kept inside the room, pulling one of the drawers open. He strategically hid the supply of handkerchiefs he kept for the occasional upsets he would experience while composing his music. Taking a seat at the table near to the young lass, Pippin handed her a fresh cloth. “What is making you so sad?”

Diamond was silent for a long minute, not knowing how to tell her friend about his old love. “I got a letter from Sapphira today,” she finally spoke, her voice filled with emotion.

Pippin had a bad feeling of what Diamond would say next. He watched her stall by wiping her nose with the handkerchief. “What did she say?” he asked, half of him truly wanting to know, the other half inwardly cringing.

“She and Hildebrand were married this past Highday,” she answered then sobbed. “I wasn’t there to see it.”

“You had plans to attend, did you not?” asked Pippin, still reeling from the news.

“Yes.”

Pippin looked around his music room knowing that his next “performance” would be expressing yet more sadness…and more anger. “Well,” said Pippin rather detached, “it seems we both have been spurned by the same lass.”

“She’s my sister, Mr. Pippin,” cried Diamond. “There has to be a good reason for it. I don’t understand it--we’ve always been close.”

Ruing his last remark, Pippin took the tween’s hand in his to console her. “There indeed must be a good reason, Diamond,” he said. However, there was only one reason that Pippin could think of at that point. Diamond looked up at him now with sad, puffy brown eyes as if seeking an answer. Pippin looked deep into them, finding nothing but sadness. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” she sniffed.

“You know…” Pippin blinked his eyes, “this. You did it the night Sa--your sister and I returned from Buckland. You looked at me strangely. I know because I felt it.”

Diamond searched her own thoughts, wondering what in blazes Mr. Pippin was speaking about. “I just…looked at you. I am sorry if this causes you unease. I won’t look at you anymore, if you don’t want.” Having said this, the young lass turned away from Pippin, sitting with her back to him.

Pippin gently pulled Diamond back round. “I don’t mean a casual look, Diamond, I would swear with red ink that your eyes penetrated my soul…whatever I was feeling that night, you also felt it.”

Now Diamond remembered what the lad was speaking of. She indeed had gazed into his eyes and then felt a shiver afterward. “Oh…well…I don’t know what happened. That feeling was new to me, too--it never happened to me before--and it frightened me.”

“What did you see?” Pippin truly wanted to know; did she see his superficial emotions, or worse--the deep scars from the Quest?

Diamond began to be troubled; what was he accusing her of? “Honest--I saw nothing. How can a hobbit see another’s soul?”

“I don’t mean to upset you, Diamond-lass,” Pippin said to calm her. “I was…merely curious. Forget that I even asked.”

Diamond looked about Pippin’s music room; a very strange room, she thought. Walls covered with wool--apparently, to absorb sound, however, in spite of the wool, it wasn’t entirely soundproof. She also saw leafs of parchment stacked in several piles; each one bearing dotted designs written upon them--some with sticks, sticks with wee banners, dots with holes in them…Diamond wondered at it all. “What is that?” she asked pointing toward the sheet music.

“Music,” Pippin answered simply, although he doubted that she would understand. To Pippin, her perceptiveness was most important; her understanding was the key to the worth of his music--and the worth of his experiences.

The young hobbit had had time to consider the “value” his past loves had placed on his life-changing journey. Posey had absolutely no interest in it whatsoever. Sapphira, although a tad curious, played it off as something he had to get out of his system and would now stay in the Shire and grow some hobbit-sense. If he told Diamond about his journey, how would the tween react? Would she even believe him--or would she also reject him?

Without Pippin saying anything further, Diamond stood to her feet, walking to the other side of the table. The tween held her fingers out to touch the magnificent instrument and then drew back. “This is the violin you were playing, isn’t it?”

“I got itwhile in Minas Tirith,” said Pippin.

“You play it so beautifully,” she remarked wondrously, gazing at the long slender neck.

Pippin’s music had never been complimented by a near stranger. He got up from his chair and then placed his violin on the table just so, so that she could have a closer look at it. “Yes, it is the same one I was playing--and well, I can’t be the judge of my own efforts.”

“I have heard you play, Mr. Pippin,” said Diamond, “and I judge you to be a very fine violin player. While I listened to your music, I fancied I was lost in it. It took me to places I had never been before…and then I cried--because I didn’t want to leave when you stopped.” Diamond became sad, “Then I came back to a world that said my sister got married without me being there to witness it.”

Pippin was almost in tears while listening to the young lass speak--because music often did the same for him. “Sit down, Diamond,” Pippin instructed. He picked up his violin and then walked toward where he had flung his bow earlier. On the way back he shut the door. He stood before Diamond, put his chin in the chin rest then placed the retrieved bow over the strings. He lightly drew the bow across them, playing a soft melody that had been swimming inside his head for most of the day.

Diamond closed her eyes, once again finding herself in an unknown part of the Shire--where sisters were always thoughtful, where there was never an Occupation, where the ponies were never aggressive, and where fathers never died.

* * *

“Here we are--back in our own tunnel,” said Pippin, strolling beside young Diamond.

“Thank you for seeing me to my room, Mr. Pippin,” she said with a sincere smile. “And I hope to hear you play your violin again soon.”

While walking the young lass back to her room, Pippin thought that he could almost like her. A very comely lass, considerate, compassionate--a breath of fresh air from all the self-indulgent lasses that he had previously known or courted. Then again…Diamond was also quite young, vulnerable, and inexperienced in the ways of life in general. The wall that guarded his heart went back up.

“Perhaps,” he replied. “Good afternoon to you, Miss Diamond.”

TBC

*Passages in bold italicsare quotes taken from Return Of The King, The Houses of Healing, By JRR Tolkien.