Written for Marigold's Challenge 26: The common element will be to make up an original idiom, or saying.

Random elements: A petticoat and a black eye

Original idiom: “Useless as a locksmith in Nobottle.”

Disclaimer: All hobbits and Middle-earth belong to JRR Tolkien. In my dreams, they belong to me.

Beta: Marigold

Lock Out

“What are we to do now?” asked Diamond, sulking beside her husband of less than one week. She and Pippin sat side by side upon the porch of Crickhollow after discovering they had inadvertently locked themselves out of the house prior to taking a moonlit stroll.

“I can’t find the extra key we kept hidden under the rock,” sighed Pippin, meaning him and Merry--when they lived together at this same dwelling. “I suppose we’ll just have to break a window and climb in.”

“We can’t do that!” said Diamond. “Somebody will get cut on the shards of glass. No, that won’t do at all.”

“And we can’t just sit out here all night long, either,” replied Pippin. “We’re not expecting Merry and Stella until luncheon tomorrow, so we have to do something at some point--it‘s almost midnight.”

“Isn’t there a locksmith close by?” asked Diamond. “He should be able to open his own device. It‘s near to midnight, but surely he‘d consider this a matter of urgency.”

“Not really,” commented Pippin. “He probably thinks welcoming his first grandchild into the world is of more importance.” Pippin looked to Diamond, “He’s away up near Scary where his daughter and son-in-law live.”

It was Diamond’s turn to sigh aloud. “Locked doors!” she muttered, “As useful as a Locksmith in Nobottle, I say!”

Pippin came out of pondering their quandary, hearing his wife‘s remark. “What?”

“Locked doors are as useful as a Locksmith is in Nobottle--or anywhere else in the Shire proper,” Diamond repeated.

Pippin‘s face held a quizzical expression. “Whatever do you mean by that, anyway?” he asked her.

“That’s what we say up north,” Diamond explained, “when something adds absolutely no value to quality of life. It is useless. We don’t lock our doors where I come from; we know everyone where we live and we know who is inclined to borrow without asking. Only Bucklanders lock their doors, and I think it is useless to do so. What has it proven so far? Only that the key is now lost.”

“Well,” said Pippin, now grinning with amusement, “we have a similar saying in the Tooklands, but ‘Nobottle’ threw me off your path.”

“What do the Tooks say?” asked Diamond.

“We have a couple of variations, but my father is rather fond of making reference to locksmiths in general--saying they couldn’t pick their way out of their own noses.” Pippin laughed when Diamond made a sour face, and then put his arm round his wife to draw her near to him. The skin on her arm felt cool. It was a good thing he had brought his summer cloak on the walk, though the weather was a bit warm for it. “What I wouldn’t give for the Locksmith being in Bucklebury right now,” Pippin lamented, then had a bit of inspiration. “Come on!” He suddenly stood up, taking her hand in his they walked the perimeter of the house. “I’ve an idea!”

“There!” Diamond shouted, pointing toward one particular window. “The kitchen widow isn’t shut all the way.” She smiled at Pippin, “Yes, I can definitely see the value in locking the door of the house to keep out intruders, and then leaving the kitchen window open--just in case they couldn’t find the key under the rock.”

Pippin winced at the sarcasm, but took it in stride. “We don’t have much use for locked doors in Whitwell or Tuckborough, either, but in Buckland they lock their doors for a purpose, and so I shall, too.” Pippin took the responsibilities of protecting his family very seriously.

Sizing up the window and its height from the ground, Pippin reached up to pull the windowpane out further to make the opening bigger.

“You would need a lift to get a footing in order to climb inside,” said Diamond, “and I can’t lift you. You’re much too heavy.”

Pippin raised his eyebrows at that--to be told that he was too heavy was something completely foreign to him. But Diamond was correct--she was the lighter-weight of the pair. “All right, then--I’ll give you a lift,” he said to her, linking his fingers together, “Up you go!”

Using Pippin’s hands as a stirrup, Diamond hoisted herself up and through the window sash. Halfway through, Diamond lost her balance, her waist caught upon the frame. She flailed her legs in attempt to throw her weight fully over the ledge, and in the process, two things happened to poor Pippin.

His first mistake was in letting his mind wander when his gaze landed upon Diamond’s lacy petticoat. It was very lacy…tantalizingly lacy… No sooner had his fantasies taken their course with his wife than Pippin suddenly saw stars as he was knocked to the ground. One of her flailing heels must have hit him in the eye.

“Pippin!” Diamond shouted from the window. Pippin looked up from where he sat while still clutching his right eye. “Did I hurt you, my love?” Diamond asked, worry etched in her beautiful face.

Before Pippin could say anything in response, Diamond ran from the kitchen window, presumably toward the front door to open it.

“Pippin!” Diamond ran toward Pippin from the front side of the house. “Are you all right?”

Pippin grimaced; he thought he had heard a very ominous sound mere seconds ago. “I’m fine,” he answered her, “but…let’s get inside the house before the midges decide to keep us company.”

Two strides in the direction of the front door, Diamond froze in her tracks. “Oh, no! Pippin, I…I--”

“You shut the door again, didn’t you?”

Diamond nodded ruefully.

“Ah, well,” said Pippin, still rubbing the last of the stars out of his eye. “Let’s take a bit of a rest on the garden swing before we give it another go.”

Pippin picked up his all but forgotten cloak from off the ground. On their way to the swing, he gave the front garden a quick glance; the surrounding row of low trees…the thick hedge. Yes, he smiled in thought, seclusion. He also fancied that he’d investigate that lacy petticoat while they were at it, too.

The End