Chapter Four: "In the Twilight"

Twilight had deepened upon the grounds of the Smials when Pippin awakened and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Hmm?” Grandmama stirred slightly beneath his lap. “Child?”

“Oh!” Pippin said after he had turned round to see that her hands, as well as his, were empty of biscuits. He remembered that he had had more he had meant to share before he fell asleep, and he jutted his lower lip out determinedly as he squirmed from Violet Banks’s lap and informed her, “I shall have to get you another biscuit, Grandmama.”

“That’s nice, dearie,” Violet muttered sleepily, and riased her hand to pat his curls. It fell away empty, though, because Pippin had already scampered away out of reach. Violet returned to her half-slumbering state, nodding off along with some of the other elderly hobbits, whilst others continued to chatter, or to play at simple games held in their hands.

His sister Pervinca was now playing a game, too, along with several other young hobbits, Pippin could tell as he walked toward the food tables, still yawning occasionally or rubbing his eyes at times. He could see the bow tied atop Pervinca’s curls bobbing as she darted about in the game across the field from the dancers.

‘Twas still dancing, and still – or again, Pippin thought ruefully, as he stuffed a piece of cheese which remained upon one of the serving platters into his mouth – still that boring lasses’ stuff. He made a face that had nothing to do with the pungent cheese. He must have missed any fun dances while he was taking care of Grandmama.

He looked toward the dancers again, squinting into the twilight. Aye, Da was still being nice to Mama and dancing with her again, and now Merry and Frodo were there, too, dancing with Pippin’s cousin Morning Glory Took and his sister Pimpernel, while Pearl danced with a lad Pippin didn’t know.

Pippin looked away from the dancers and grabbed another handful of biscuits, intending to return and share with his Grandmama. As he took a step in that direction, though, he heard something coming from the side of the yard which ran along the road to Tuckborough. Pippin stopped, glanced once more at the dancers, shrugged, and then followed the noise, which came from the opposite direction.

The shadows deepened as he walked, and he did not see the soft grass change to a darker hole which usually supported a post for the line on which clothes were hung out to dry. For the party, the clothesline had been removed and a table placed over the stumps of its posts, but that table had somehow become jostled out of the way earlier in the evening.

Pippin’s foot impacted with the remaining part of the post, and he tripped, sprawling forward and rolling down the slight rise which separated the yard from the road, the biscuits – including the one he’d been munching on – falling from his hands as he tumbled.

He had begun a small squeal when first he tripped, but as he fell, Pippin had the breath knocked out of him, so that the only sound he produced when he stopped rolling to lie in the road, his head having struck a sharp rock, was a small moan. After that, he lay both quiet and still.

The only sounds upon that patch of road were the hum of insects and the footsteps, snatches of muttering, and animals’ whufflings that Pippin had heard before.