Disclaimer: All hobbits and Middle-earth belong to JRR Tolkien, only in my dreams do they belong to me. ;-) I am not a professional writer, thus nobody in their right mind would ever offer me any money for this. I do it out of pure enjoyment.

Childrens ages: Bonny 9, Faramir 7 1/2, Blossom, 4, and Heather 1.  But the Reader can always adjust that to their own imagination. :-)

Grandmum’s Button Box

Great Smials, Winterfilth, 1437, S.R.

“There we are now, ladies,” Diamond said to her little lasses, ushering two and carrying one into the parlour. All three were fresh from the bathing room wrapped snug in their thick dressing gowns. “Sit down in front of the hearth to dry your hair,” Diamond instructed them. “Here's your baby sister,” she leant down and set one-year-old Heather beside them. “And please don‘t plait her hair -- she doesn't have enough to do so yet.”

Little Blossom sat wide-eyed next to her big sister; they had been caught in the act of plaiting Heather‘s hair earlier in the day. The eldest child and quite bold, Bonny merely shrugged. “Her hair plaits well enough, Mummy. She just needs lots of them all over her head.”

Diamond gently lifted her daughter’s chin, looking her directly in the eyes. “No plaiting.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Satisfied her daughter knew that she meant business, Diamond sat down beside her husband on the couch. Pippin was quietly puffing on his pipe with his nose buried deep in a book...and a smirk on his lips.

Diamond pinched his arm, “What’s so funny?”

Pippin winced, but made no apologies. “Heather. She reminded me of Vinca’s dolls when she was a little lass.”

Before Diamond could retort on behalf of their littlest one, Faramir entered the parlour holding an old, but magnificently decorated wooden box. It was made of polished pine with blue and green brocaded fabric tacked overtop of the lid. The brass latch in the front kept the contents within.

“Is this the box, Grandmum?” he asked.

“The very one,” Eglantine replied, her hands held out to receive the item. “Thank you, my lad. Now, I‘ll need a little help with threading the needle, if you please. I wonder if there is a young lass about who may do the job well.”

Bonny’s hand shot up into the air excitedly. “I can do it, Grandmum! May I, please?”

“Very well, my dear,” answered Eglantine, with a glance in Diamond’s direction. With no objection from her daughter-in-law, she proceeded to give the implements to Bonny. “But be careful,” she cautioned. She had always cautioned her own daughters in the same manner when they were around Bonny’s age.

Next, Eglantine fumbled inside the box searching for the right sized button for her grandson. “This one will be perfect for you, Faramir! Now, love, step closer and hold out your arm so I can get a good look.”

Diamond gave a questioning look to her husband beside her. “What’s the matter?” she whispered.

Pippin took his pipe out of his mouth to better answer. “He lost a button,” he whispered likewise, “and so Mother wants to fix it. She enjoys mending their things -- it gives her something to do.”

Both parents watched as their children interacted with their grandmother. It had been three years since Pippin’s father passed away, thus, Diamond reasoned that, at 101, her beloved mother-in-law would follow not too far in the future. Winter’s chill was never a respecter of persons; when it left the Shire, it would take many elderly, young children, and the feeble along with it.

“May I have that one, Grandmum?” Faramir asked her, pointing to a different button.

Eglantine raised her wrinkled brow in thought. “Well...I suppose you could, but it would be the only gold button on your nightshirt.”

Faramir held the shiny button in his hands, admiring it. “It belonged to Grandpapa, though. I remember seeing it on a jacket he wore.”

Most of the buttons inside Eglantine’s wooden box were bric-a-brac, not all, but most. Some were from garments her children had worn as wee ones, frocks her own mother and grandmother had owned, favourite shirts and jackets from her late husband, or coats that she and her family wore long ago. Eglantine’s button box was practically a trove of treasures of every shape, size, colour, and texture. She knew each ones character and the story behind it.

Diamond held fast to Pippin’s arm; not necessarily wondering what her mother-in-law’s response would be, but her young Faramir was boldly asking to take something that was probably still a part of his grandmother’s heart. Diamond trusted her mother-in-law completely and knew Eglantine would never crush the spirit of the lad, but still...

Eglantine smiled sadly at the bygone memories the brass button evoked. She replied quietly, “It did belong to your Grandpapa -- it came from his favourite green suit, you know. He had it made on the occasion of your own Papa‘s Coming of Age.”

Young Faramir’s eyes sparkled with his grandmother’s account of his father’s Coming of Age; he fancied the button he had chosen was something special to his late grandfather. Even so, at the age of seven, the lad understood his grandmother’s loss. Faramir missed his Grandpapa; he missed the walks in the garden paths or being pulled in a handcart through the garden.

Faramir placed the button back inside the box. “Then I can’t have it?” he asked softly. It was more a statement than a question.

Bonny handed her grandmother the needle and thread, all ready to go. Eglantine took it, thanking her granddaughter.

“You misunderstand me, my dear lad,” Eglantine said, her hand gently combing his remaining damp curls with her fingers. She took the gold button and pressed it back into his hand. “I want you to have it -- wear it and remember your Grandpapa.” Eglantine’s smile was as wide as the one Faramir gave her in return.

She handed the button box to Bonny, and then quickly examined the lass’s handiwork. “Good length for button-sewing -- very fine knot,” she said, giving Bonny a wink.

Bonny beamed with pride. She started to go back to sit in front of hearth but then paused. “May Blossom and I have a look in your button box, Grandmum?”

“Aye, you may,” answered Eglantine, then immersed herself to the task of affixing the special button to Faramir’s cuff.

Off to the side, sitting in front of the fireplace, two little lasses rummaged through what they considered priceless treasures. It became increasingly difficult to keep baby Heather from eating the valuables, so Bonny took her littlest sister to their mum to keep her out of harms way.

Soon, she and Blossom were laughing with delight at the beautiful gems and colourful art within the pretty box. At length, a beaded glass shank button the hue of bluebells caught Bonny’s attention. She held it up to catch the light in the fireplace. “This one looks like a blue diamond. It must be worth a hundred silver pennies!”

Eglantine chuckled, making it difficult to aim the needle into the button hole. “No, my love. My own mother specifically chose four of those at the tailor shop to grace the blue coat she wore to her first social party after her Presentation -- the very party at which she met my father.”

Eglantine proceeded to regale her young audience of the meeting and courtship of her mother and father, to the delight of the lasses, of course.

“What about this one, Grandmum?” asked Blossom. She wanted a story from Grandmum, too! The small lass held up a tiny round button, the colouring mother-of-pearl. “It’s so pretty that a princess must have wore it!”

“Bring that closer, my dear,” said Eglantine, squinting at the whitish object in Blossom’s hand. “Oh! That came from a nightgown your Aunt Pearl wore when she was an infant.” The child tried desperately to imagine her old Auntie so small and helpless.

At this point, and nigh unto eight o’clock, little Heather began to fuss, prompting Diamond to take the baby to the nursery. As she padded towards the door, she caught a glimpse of a shiny object inside the box. Curious, Diamond bent down for a closer look. “This is a lovely button, Mum. Which frock did you get this from?”

Eglantine didn’t have to look at the tiny treasure in her daughter-in-law’s hand; there were few like it, and most ladies who saw it greatly esteemed it. Finished with her task, she snipped the thread with scissors, allowing Faramir to appreciate his new button. She teased, “Why do you think it came from a frock?”

Diamond laughed, putting Heather in Pippin‘s lap, whispering something in his ear. Pippin smiled knowingly; he had heard most of the stories behind the peculiar bits and pieces throughout his childhood, and this story in particular he knew Diamond would love. He laid aside his pipe and book, getting up to take his youngest daughter to the nursery and put her to bed.

Diamond sat down beside her children and answered, “Because no self-respecting lad would be caught dead with a silver button made in the shape of a rose on his shirt and most definitely not on his waistcoat.” Bonny and Blossom giggled. Fascinated, Faramir sat down with the lasses for a better look. Anticipating a nice, long story, Diamond proceeded to plait Bonny’s near dried hair.

Thrilled at another chance to tell stories to the young ones, Eglantine sat back in her chair, her mind’s eye seeing a lovely pale pink frock made from silk and silver rose-shaped buttons running the length of the back. Pink rosebuds crowned her pinned up tresses on that cool, clear spring day, but her abiding love for her beloved, her new husband. kept her warm all the day long...

The End

A/N: The story behind the story...lol. When my sister and I were around Bonny’s age or younger in my case, our family would visit our great-grandmother. Whenever we grew bored with the chit-chat, we’d ask for Grandma’s button box. We’d spend the entire visit oohing and ahhhing the variety of buttons she had collected over the years. I remember once or twice my sister holding up a button and Grandma telling us which coat or dress it had come from. Was it true? I don’t know, but it made nice memories for me. Her collection most likely resulted from the Depression era, but I like to imagine Eglantine saving buttons to help keep fond memories alive.