Turning Points

Chapter Six

“Daisies and Dreams”

Paladin shot to his feet like a stone from a sling and Pippin tore after him, clambering up to his seat only a moment before his father started the waggon rolling. They headed back up the lane at a fair clip, Paladin urging the pony to a fast trot, arriving back at the neighbouring farm to find Petunia Burrows standing in the middle of the farmyard shrieking while hobbits young and old came on the run.

“What ever is wrong, Petunia?” Togo Burrows had just made it to his wife’s side and was trying to calm her long enough to find out what was wrong.

“Oh! Oh, I can’t find Daisy, Togo she’s gone! I left her for only a moment while I put the clothesbasket inside the house. She must have wandered away, but I’ve been looking for her everywhere!” Pippin felt a cold chill creep up his back. He watched the frantic mother with an increasing sense of disquiet and glanced around, but saw no sign of the missing child.

“Where did you see her last?” Togo was scanning the wide pastures, hand shading his eyes from the noonday sun.

“Just over there.” Petunia gestured at the swing that was suspended from the large elder near the clothesline. “She was lying on her stomach across the swing, and causing it to spin around with her.” Her attempt at a chuckle turned into a sob.

Togo embraced her. “We’ll find her, my dear, don’t fret so. Surely she’s close at hand.”

“She likes to smell the flowers in Mum’s flowerbed,” Violet told them, pointing, “and pull the petals off the yellow daisies.” She was the next to eldest of the Burrow’s seven children, and had already started to run in that direction. Everyone followed but as they rounded the corner of the big farmhouse it was apparent Daisy was not playing in the flowers.

“Come, we’ll go this way,” Paladin nodded at his son, “and why don’t some of you go in the opposite direction?”

“Aye, and the rest of you split up and go everywhere in between,” Togo said. “Lads,” he nodded at his two eldest sons, “you go to check about the barn and the pony stalls,” he pointed at his daughter Begonia, “and lass, you go and look around the back meadow and the goat pen.”

They hurried off and Paladin trotted away with Pippin in tow. “There’s a well, boy,” Paladin said in a low voice, after they’d walked for several minutes. He gestured at the stone structure squatting near their path. “Let’s have a look around there first.” Pippin noted the grimace on his father’s face and understood immediately. Oh, surely the wee lass hadn’t. . .he shivered at the thought.

Thankfully, there was no sign Daisy had been there; the bucket still hung out of reach on the gnarled rope, and it looked as though the stones were too smooth and flat for the child to climb. Nevertheless, Paladin leaned over the side and gazed down at the dark water far below. There was no evidence of the child. Breathing sighs of relief, father and son continued along the path.

“It seems to me she wouldn’t have had time to get very far,” Paladin mused, pausing to look around the meadow. “But, children do surprise us sometimes.” He winked at his son and Pippin rolled his eyes at the good-natured teasing. “Perhaps we should separate and look in opposite directions? That way we can cover twice as much ground.”

“Then I’ll go that way.” Pippin gestured to his left.

“Be sure to sing out if you see any sign of her,” Paladin said, and Pippin nodded before darting off towards the orchard.

It wasn’t long before he came to the descending path strewn with flat, smooth stones. Pippin had been this way before. He could hear the water trickling between the rocks; the earthy scent of the pond’s muddy edge tickled his nose. It was the kind of place he’d always been drawn to and now he paused briefly to drink in the heady scents and the sound of nature’s music. Something brightly coloured drew his attention and he stooped to retrieve a battered yellow daisy. Pippin grinned, casting a look about before finally noticing the shower of delicate petals near his feet. His grin widened and he was about to call out when a shriek sent him running. Daisy was next to the pond lying on the grass when he found her. The child was inching closer to the water, stretching out an arm to reach a lily that peeked from below the lip of the bank, and chortling and squealing contentedly to herself.

“Daisy! Don’t move!” Pippin dashed over, pulling her back from the water’s edge.

“Pip’n!” she squeaked with delight and clapped her chubby hands together.

“Yes, it’s Pippin,” he agreed, giving her a mock frown as he scooped her up. “You’ve given your mum a dreadful fright, young hobbit!” He settled the child on his hip. “We must get you back to her straight away.”

“Mummy!” Daisy giggled and patted him on the nose with her grubby fingers.

Pippin looked cross-eyed at the dab of mud on the end of his nose, eliciting more squeals of delight. “Just what were you up to, hmm?” Pippin jostled her up and down in his arms as they started back.

“Flow’r,” she chortled, patting his cheek and smearing more mud on him.

Pippin wrinkled up his nose at the odour. “Aye, flowers, you were picking flowers, were you?” Daisy bobbed her head, looking serious. “I know, because you left a trail of petals that helped me find you! But it’s time to go home so your mum and da won’t worry any longer,” Pippin chuckled, but felt a chill recalling the scene he had come upon. The thought of his dream and the crying child calling for his help was especially unnerving after finding Daisy so close to falling in the pond. Pushing the thought away he started to trot, anxious to reunite the lass with her family.

Daisy squealed in delight, “Pony! Pip’n pony!”

Pippin snorted at the comparison. “So, you think I’m a pony now, do you?”

Daisy squealed again, “Run fas’er!”

“Faster? You want me to run faster with my arms full of a big lass like you?”

“Fas’er!”

Pippin spotted his father up ahead with the eldest of the Burrows’ children. “Da! Tolo! Look, I found her!”

Shouts of joy greeted the pair as Pippin handed the child to her mother a few minutes later. After Petunia finished hugging a very mud-spattered Daisy and weeping over her, she pulled Pippin into her arms and embraced him until he could barely breathe. “Thank you for finding her, Pippin,” she whispered in his ear, “you are a dear lad.” She planted a kiss on top of his head as the rest of the searchers, having heard the call that the missing child was found, returned to find the happy sight.

“Well, and I’d say someone needs a good wash,” Paladin teased, wiping a bit of the mud from his son’s cheek with his thumb. “You look almost as bad as if you’d been out in the pigsty.” He turned to their neighbors with a wave. “We must be getting on our way. It looks like there are two children who need a bath. Thank goodness everything worked out fine.”

“Thanks, Pad, for your help, and thank you, Pippin!” Togo ruffled Pippin’s hair. “Your father’s right, you do look like you’ve been out paying the piggies a visit!” Pippin rolled his eyes at the good-natured teasing.

“Goodbye Mr Burrows, Mrs Burrows! Bye Daisy!” Pippin waved at everyone and joined his father who was already seated in the waggon.

“Pip’n!” Daisy screeched, then laughed.

“Well, it looks like you’ve an admirer now in that wee lass,” Paladin chuckled. “I’m very proud of you for finding her, lad.”

Pippin shrugged. “I was just lucky, I suppose. I was walking in the right direction and there she was.” He shivered and Paladin looked at him, curious.

“Oh,” he explained, “she was at the edge of the pond reaching in for a water lily. It did give my stomach quite a turn when I saw her. I thought she was about to fall in the water.”

“Ah, well then, no wonder. ‘Tis a frightening experience to see a little one in danger. Reminds me of when you were just a faunt. As a matter of fact, I think your adventuring began even before you could walk, and it hasn’t let up yet,” Paladin chuckled.

“Oh?” Pippin raised an eyebrow.

“Now, don’t try to look so innocent, my boy. Your escapades could put Daisy’s little jaunt to shame in a hurry. Ah, if I had a Shire penny for every time you gave your mum and me a fright like that when you were her age, why I’d have a great deal of money!” He reached over and patted his knee and Pippin gave him a sheepish grin. They travelled in companionable silence for a short time before Paladin spoke again. “Peregrin, about our discussion. Is there anything you’d like to ask? You looked like you were about to say something when all the commotion started.”

Pippin felt his face growing warm as he recalled their earlier conversation and the question he’d been about to bring up. “Umm. . . I. . .well. . .” He studied his mud-spattered feet intently.

Paladin’s expression softened. “Why don’t you take a deep breath and just come out with it? Instead of thinking about it so much.”

Pippin darted a look at his father from beneath his lashes. He continued staring at his feet, but mumbled at last, “I was wondering about. . .if I feel, umm, good. . .ah, enthusiastic. . . when I. . .when I look at a lass that I’m fond of. . .well, what happens to her? Does she. . .” Pippin gulped and blurted out the rest of his question, “does she feel good in the same way when she looks at me? I mean I know they’re different from lads, but don’t they feel good too, especially when they see lads watching them? They always smile back at me, anyway. If they notice I’m looking, that is.” Pippin sighed, wistful. “It seems like every time I’m with lasses I start to feel that way. Umm, but not when I’m around my sisters, of course,” he hastened to add, face flaming now.

Paladin stifled his chuckle with a cough. “Yes, well, I believe that a lass probably does have some good feelings at times like those, especially if you happen to be a lad she’s taken a shine to. But, her body won’t react in quite the same way yours does.”

“I know that lasses are different, Da!” Pippin rolled his eyes.  “But will she, umm. . .feel good? In a way similar to what I’m feeling? You know, will her. . .” Pippin paused before rushing ahead, “will her body feel good like mine does? In whatever way that lasses get?”

Paladin considered the question. “Well. . .your mother told me once that a lass feels all warm inside at times like those. So, I believe the answer is yes, but once again, not in quite the same way as it is for a lad.” Paladin noted the look of confusion and tried once more. “Pippin, you’re right when you say lads are different. And one way they are is that at your age your body is busy discovering all sorts of new feelings and many of them are coming to your attention in a very physical way. With lasses. . .well, it seems to be the opposite. They may have all these wonderful feelings for a lad, but their bodies haven’t caught up yet. In other words, they like the way the lads make them feel, but it doesn’t cause a physical reaction. Instead, I think it’s more about the feelings they have in their minds. Does that make sense to you?”

“In a way, I suppose.” Pippin wrinkled his brow in thought. “What you’re saying is they fall in love first? And that’s what makes them feel good. Instead of. . .you know. . .?”

“Yes indeed, that does sound right to me. Very good, Pippin! I think you’re starting to understand.”

“I don’t feel like I understand much of anything.”

“Give it time and you will.” Paladin laughed. “One day you’ll have a lad of your own and you’ll see things in an entirely different way. And he’ll probably drive you to distraction while he’s still a wee one and you’ll know what I was talking about earlier, as well.” Paladin draped an arm around his son’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m truly proud of you for locating that child so quickly. Why, it’s almost as if you knew exactly where to look.”

Pippin froze at the words of praise. He thought about what had happened, how he’d felt drawn in that direction, and the way his surroundings had reminded him of . . . His mind raced, a stark contrast to his outer demeanor of quiet reflection. The dream. What had happened at the pond reminded him of his dream. Not precisely, but the tone was similar. He thought about what Frodo had told him regarding the fire at Brandy Hall when his cousin was a youth. What exactly was this ‘Sight’? Should he say anything? Pippin gazed sidelong at his father, deciding to hold his tongue. He’d heard his da and Aunt Esmie speaking in low voices about it once or twice, and it seemed as though it were something they didn’t discuss openly.

Paladin pretended not to notice Pippin’s furtive glances in his direction and tried to lighten the mood. He began to sing one of his favourite old songs and smiled when his son joined in.

Upon the hearth the fire is red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed;

But not yet weary are our feet,

Still round the corner we may meet

A sudden tree or standing stone

That none have seen but we alone.

Tree and flower and leaf and grass,

Let them pass! Let then pass!

Hill and water under sky,

Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate,

And though we pass them by today,

Tomorrow we may come this way

And take the hidden paths that run

Towards the Moon or to the Sun.

Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,

Let them go! Let them go!

Sand and stone and pool and dell,

Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadows, to the edge of night,

Until the stars are all alight.

Then world behind and home ahead,

We’ll wander back to home and bed.

Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,

Away shall fade! Away shall fade!

Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,

And then to bed! And then to bed!

“Oh, I do love that song,” Paladin shook his head. “It makes me think of dear old Cousin Bilbo. How I miss him at times.”

“I do too, although I don’t remember him all that well.”

“You were quite young when he left, but it seems you remember his songs.”

“I’ve heard you sing them often enough, so how could I forget?” Pippin grinned.

“Yes indeed,” Paladin nodded. “And I can think of another of Bilbo’s songs that is most appropriate to the situation.” His eyes twinkled merrily as he leaned over and plucked some of the dried mud off Pippin’s cheek. “Do you know which one I mean?”

Pippin considered for a moment and then broke into a huge grin and started to sing loudly.

Sing hey! For the bath at close of day

That washes the weary mud away!

A loon is he that will not sing:

O! Water Hot is a noble thing!

Paladin laughed heartily and joined in. They travelled the rest of the way home seemingly carefree. As he pulled the waggon to a stop in front of the barn Pippin turned to him, suddenly serious.

“Da? You said I could have the rest of the day free after this. Is that still true?” Paladin nodded, although a feeling of hesitation nudged him. Pippin’s mood seemed to have shifted rather quickly again and he was at a loss to understand just what was going through the boy’s head. “Thanks, Da!” Pippin wasted no time and leaped to the ground, sprinting away. Paladin watched him go with a bemused frown.

~~~

Late into the night he was still trying to fall asleep. Pippin tossed from one side of the bed to the other, sometimes draping his arms over the edge, other times lying on his stomach. He put his pillow at the foot of the bed, disturbing Lily who hopped down tossing her young master a look of annoyance before padding away. Dizzy looked up from his spot on the rug and snorted, then rested his head between his paws once more. It was a very long time before he drifted off.  Later, the dreams came again.

The sound of rushing water assaulted his sensitive ears and he whirled around seeking the source. Peering into the black night he thought he saw a crack of light somewhere far ahead and started towards it. The sky grew pale with the sunrise and as he walked he realised he was at the Burrows’ farm. He noticed the old well and felt drawn to it with a terrible sense of dread. Standing on tiptoe he stared into its depths and startled when he heard the merry laughter.

You’re looking in the wrong place. Come closer. . .

What? Pippin twirled in a circle but saw no one. Where are you? The laughter continued. It wasn’t threatening. It was pleasant and now he was intrigued. He started walking again and soon found himself standing at the edge of the pond where Daisy had been. But this time he was alone, and all was silent in the gray dawn. He looked about, growing puzzled. The air grew oppressive with the dampness and he was sweating profusely. The laughter came again.

I’m not here. Keep searching, don’t give up.

Then where are you? Pippin stared down into the pond and slowly the waters began to roil and then a current developed. He knew that was impossible for this was a pond. . .but now the pond was a river and as it churned, the water grew murky. The ground beneath his feet softened into mud and he slipped and almost fell. The voice came to him from afar this time, and there was no more laughter. The child cried out to him for help.

Pippin wandered through the half familiar countryside, ill at ease. There were voices, whispers in the night, and they bid him come closer. He wanted to run but found it was impossible and he continued as if pulled along by an invisible thread. The child was wailing now, beseeching him to find her before it was too late. . .

But I don’t know where you are! Help me. Show me what to do!

Find me. . .know me. . .make haste. . .

I DON’T KNOW HOW!

He tried to run but only sank deeper into the mire, the mud was cold and it pulled him down, and then he was falling. . .

Pippin awoke with a start and a yelp of pain to find he was on the floor next to his bed. Shaking, he pulled his knees up to his chin and hugged himself into a ball, weeping silently. Only Dizzy was aware of his misery and he crept over to his young master and curled up on Pippin’s feet with a whine of distress.

~~~

“Well, you’re up bright and early,” Eglantine exclaimed as her youngest joined her in the kitchen that morning. “I wasn’t going to waken you children for awhile yet.” She covered the pot of water she’d set on the cook stove to boil and turned, drying her hands on her apron as she watched her son stumble to the table and drop into a chair.

Pippin nodded and yawned, reaching for the pitcher of water. He muttered under his breath when he almost tipped the whole thing over, then spilled some on the table and down his shirt. He set the pitcher down with a thump and a heavy sigh and snatched up a towel to scrub at the puddle in front of him, then became even crosser when he dragged his sleeve through the mess. Pippin slung the towel away and rested his head in his hands. He felt almost like weeping but didn’t know why. The shadow of the disturbing dream lay upon him like a sodden blanket that he was unable to creep out from under.

“Mercy, Pippin,” Eglantine clucked as she retrieved the wet towel and finished mopping up the water and then handed him a dry one for his shirt. He accepted it glumly and swiped at his sleeve. “Are you feeling under the weather, dear?” Eglantine brushed the hair out of his eyes and laid her hand on his brow feeling for a temperature. “You don’t feel warm, but--”

Pippin grimaced and shrugged away. “Mum, I’m not sick. Will you please stop fussing over me?”

“Hmph.” Eglantine returned to her task at the stove. “It appears someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“More like on the floor.”

“What was that, Pippin?”

“Nothing, I just wish you wouldn’t treat me like I was twelve, that’s all.”

“And here I was thinking you’d be in a wonderful mood since Merry and Berilac will be arriving today.”

“Oh! I forgot!” Pippin grinned, his mood lifting at this news.

“That’s right. They should be here by lunchtime I should think, and I believe they’re bringing along some others. We simply can’t have too much help at the moment.”

“Well, I’m glad they’re coming. It’ll be nice to have someone else around besides lasses and farmhands.”

“I know, dear. You need a few lads to while away some of your time with. But don’t forget we’ve plenty of work to do with the harvest, so you’ll all be busy.”

“I don’t care if we’re working. At least I’ll have someone else to talk to. And I haven’t seen Merry since. . .” Pippin paused, remembering the night of the harvest celebration and what had happened, “. . . since the party.”

Eglantine’s heart softened at his look of distress and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Yes, it will be very nice to see Merry again, as well as the others.” She tilted his chin and peered into the soft green eyes. “You haven’t had any more of those bad dreams since then, have you?” Pippin’s face clouded over and he was trying to decide how to reply when the door banged open and his father pushed through it, a milk pail in each hand.

“Here, give me a hand, lad, will you?” Pippin jumped up to help, with a sigh of relief at the unexpected reprieve. He grabbed one of the pails and carried it to the sink, grunting as he struggled to lift it up.

“Did our son tell you about finding the Burrows’ faunt yesterday, Tina?” Paladin grinned and gave him a hand, then ruffled Pippin’s hair before turning back to the sink. He missed the scowl that Pippin shot him, but Eglantine did not. She looked at Pippin, puzzled.

“Why no, he didn’t. What happened?”

“You didn’t tell your mother? Why, I should think you’d have been pleased to say something about it. ‘Twas quite exciting, after all.”

Pippin groaned. He was sure his father was going to have him recounting the story to everyone, embarrassing him with praise. “It was nothing. I found Daisy, that’s all.”

“Ah, but there was a little more of a story to it, wasn’t there, Pip?” Paladin laughed, gesturing at his wife. “Go on, tell your mum. ‘Twill give her a smile.”

“I really don’t feel like talking about it,” Pippin said stiffly, and moved across the kitchen to stare out the window. There wasn’t anything to see as the sun had not risen yet, but he didn’t care. He wished they would just leave off for now.

Paladin turned from the sink and leaned against it, drying his hands on a towel. “And what, may I ask, has put you in such a foul mood this morning?” Pippin didn’t answer. Instead, he left the room without another word, and disappeared down the corridor, leaving his parents to trade looks of astonishment. Paladin’s face darkened and he tossed the towel aside and hurried after him.

“Pad, no. Let him go.” Eglantine tugged on his arm.

“No, Tina. I’m going to have a talk with him. I’ll not tolerate disrespect, he knows that. Something’s wrong and I want to find out what it is.”

Pippin reached his room and slammed the door. It felt good and he wished he dared to do it again. Instead, he went to stare out the window. The Sun had yet to expose her fair face, and his heart felt even heavier as he watched his own reflection looking intently back at him in the smooth glass. He grimaced, listening to the sound of footsteps hastening down the hall - not that he’d thought for a moment his father would let him get away with his behaviour. But now Da would insist he talk about what was bothering him and he simply could not.

Paladin didn’t bother knocking. He swung the door open and strode into the room. Pippin rested his arms on the windowsill, ignoring him. “Just what was that all about?” Pippin tensed but remained quiet. Paladin watched him for a moment before taking a seat on the bed. Neither of them spoke and several minutes passed. Finally, Paladin cleared his throat, “Peregrin, I don’t have a great deal of time this morning to play your game of stubbornness. I want you to turn around and speak to me.”

“I don’t want to talk right now, Da,” Pippin said. His voice chose that moment to break and his reply came out in several distorted octaves. Pippin stamped his foot in anger, wanting to throw something. Instead, he released a ragged sob and then tried immediately to silence it. Paladin went to him, scooping him into his strong arms as if he were still a child. He sank onto the bed holding him close. Pippin crumbled at his caring touch and sobbed, burying his head in his father’s shoulder.

“Shh, now,” Paladin soothed, rocking him as if he were an infant. “Tell me what’s wrong lad, so I can help.” Pippin only sobbed harder. Paladin waited patiently until at last his son spoke.

“Dreams. . .bad dreams. . .”