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Author: Pippinfan Written for Marigold's Challenge 8, starter bunny #10: “a hobbit child is lost” Disclaimer: The world of Middle-earth: Hobbits, Wizards, Elves, and Men belong to JRR Tolkien. Ages: Merry still 10, Pippin 2. My Cousins, By Meriadoc Brandybuck, 10 years old, Forelithe 10, 1393, S.R. Prologue: This is my story about when I visited my cousins late last autumn--when I was a little lad. I had a new baby cousin named Primrose Took but she was too little to live. My Auntie and Uncle and cousins were very sad, so my family visited them to help. Mum asked me the morning she and dad were to return to Buckland if I would want to stay behind for a while to play with Pimpernel, Pervinca, and Pippin. Pimpernel doesn’t like to play as much anymore, but I thought Pervinca and Pippin might be fun, even though Pippin is too young to play with marbles. Pearl says he might eat them, so he can’t play with them yet. Here is my story. YULEMATH 8, 1392, S.R. “Now behave yourself,” I heard my mum say, as if scolding me, but I knew she wasn’t. She took out her pocket-handkerchief, dampened it with her tongue then wiped the corners of my mouth. I don’t like it when she does that, but since she’s the grown-up, I don’t think there’s much I can say about it. “Mum!” I cried, trying to pull away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Pimpernel grin. I decided I’d get her back sometime later in my visit. Mum finished cleaning my face, then said, “Are you too big for your breeches to kiss your Mum goodbye?” Worried that I had injured her feelings, I reply, “No, mum,” then give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now stay out from under foot.” She continued in a low voice, “Keep your cousins occupied so that your auntie and uncle can mend themselves, all right?” She kissed me then added, “And mind your manners!” “Yes, ma’am,” I answered. I watched her go round to each of my cousins to kiss them good-bye. My mum, dad, and After all the hugs and kisses were passed round, mum wrapped her coat tightly about herself then walked out into the wintry breeze towards the carriage where dad waited for her. She and dad were the last of the relatives to leave after baby Primrose’s burial this morning. If anyone thought that Pervinca and Pippin were born too early, mum said that Primrose was more so. I never got to see baby Primrose until they wrapped her in blankets just before leaving to bury her. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I told her goodbye and that I hoped the faeries would find her and take good care of her. Auntie has been crying since Primrose died the day before. Uncle Paladin has stayed with her in the bedroom, but he comes out every now and then to make sure my cousins were not misbehaving. Mum asked Uncle Paladin if I could stay until after Yule--when her and dad would return to claim me then our two families would mix together to make our own Yule. I heard Uncle Paladin tell her that he wasn’t in the mood to celebrate the Yuletide this year at all, but Pippin and the lasses would feel terrible for missing it. So, there I stood in the kitchen window, waving to mum and dad until I could no longer see their carriage among the leafless trees and the fog my breath was making on the windowpane. I will miss Yule at Brandy Hall, but I agreed with mum that it’s more important to help my auntie and uncle and cousins right now. Mum said that she and dad will make sure I get my fair share of sweets and biscuits when I return. I hope so, but I wish I had them now--to share with my cousins. They seem so sad. Except for Pippin--he’s two years old and doesn’t really know that he ought to be sad, too. With the carriage out of my sight, I turned away from the window. My cousin Pimpernel was still sitting at the table eating her bread and jam from tea. I sat down in my chair at the table, but I couldn’t finish my serving. I felt miserable--they didn’t need me here. I offer my bread to Pervinca who snatches it out of my grasp. Pippin started to cry because he didn’t get any of it. “Now see what you’ve started?” said Pimpernel, getting up and going to the cupboard. “He was perfectly fine until you did that.” Taking a bit of bread she spread jam on it then gave it to Pippin to quiet him. “I didn’t know,” I said to her. “Of course you wouldn’t,” she told me, sounding vexed. “You don’t have any--” “That’s enough of that, Pim!” Pearl reprimanded Pimpernel. I wanted to stick my tongue out at Pim. Pearl has always been like a big sister to me, while Pimpernel is like a wicked sister. Not really though--she’s only bossy when she wants to feel important. Pervinca just turned seven and is much nicer than Pimpernel, but tries to be like her older sisters as she orders Pippin about. But Pippin doesn’t listen to anybody. I like that about him. I turned to Pervinca, now licking her fingers, and asked if she wanted to go outside to play. “No,” she said, placing her finger into the empty space where her two front teeth are missing. “I wanna play with my new doll house. You can be the papa.” Pearl tells Pervinca that if she keeps on sticking her finger in her mouth that her new teeth won’t come in at all--they’ll be too frightened to come out. I smile at the fib. “I don’t want to play--” I start to answer, then stopped myself halfway. I sighed, I remembering that I had told my mum that I would help my cousins in their sad period. “All right, I’ll be the papa--but no kissing!” All of us went quiet as Uncle Paladin entered the kitchen. I saw that his nose and eyes were red. He went straight to the cupboard and got out two teacups, saucers, and a tray. In a tired voice, he gave a few instructions to Pearl as he prepared his and auntie’s tea. “Please see that Pippin gets his bath before dinner. Pervinca can help Pimpernel fill the troughs in the barn, though she’s still too young to lift the water buckets.” “I can help her, Uncle,” I offered. Uncle Paladin looked over at me as if he was surprised to see me. Didn’t he know that I was there? I would have wagered that auntie didn’t know I was there, either. I had a sinking feeling of being lost and underfoot. “Yes--thank you, Merry,” he said in reply. Finishing up with the tea tray, he left us children alone in the kitchen. Not alone for long, though. Dahlia, the cook, would be returning from the market in Whitwell soon. “Come along, Master Merry,” Pimpernel pulled on my shirtsleeve. “The ponies, pigs, and cows need seeing to. You can stay here and help Pearl, little miss princess.” I smirked when I saw Pervinca stick out her tongue at her sister. Then I hid it as soon as Pearl gave me a quiet, but stern look. Out in the barn, we filled the troughs and set to add more straw to the stalls and mangers so the animals would be warm in the wintry night. As I arranged the straw with a pitchfork, I heard sniffling in a far corner. I laid it down to find out what the matter was. Rounding the corner of the cow pen, I saw Pimpernel sitting on a bale of straw with her hands covering her face. When I drew near to her, I saw she was sniffling not because she had sneezed, but because she was crying. For all of her bossy ways, I then knew that it was all a ruse. Pimpernel is really as soft as clay. I quietly sat down next to her, putting my arm around her shoulder. No words needed to be said. Back inside the smial, I found Pervinca in her bedroom placing the tiny furniture inside her dollhouse just so. Each of my lass cousins has a dollhouse made by the local carpenter in payment for crops received from my uncle’s fields. My dad told me it’s called I knelt down on the floor next to her as she shoved the “papa” doll into my hands. I then placed him a bit away from the dollhouse towards the “barn”. “What are you doing with him?” she demanded. “He’s a lad--he’s going out to the barn to do lad things.” “He can’t do lad things,” Pervinca said, taking the little doll out of my hands, placing it next to the other doll. “He has to stay here with the momma.” I ask her why, and she answers, “Because…because her baby is gone. She died.” I know that dolls don’t die--but did Pervinca? She’s just a little lass, but my thoughts went back to baby Primrose. “I’m sorry,” I told her, and I was sincere about it. Pervinca got up off the floor, dropping her “momma” doll out of her hand. “I don’t wanna play house anymore.” She took up her favourite rag doll and sat in her rocking chair, sniffling into her doll. I sat on top of her bed across from her. “What’s the matter, Pervinca?” She shrugs her shoulders, but I saw tears in her eyes. “My momma doll is sad.” “Because her baby is gone?” Pervinca nods, wiping her eyes with her dress sleeve. A gush of tears run down her cheeks as she starts to cry. Yet she wasn’t quiet about it like Pimpernel was. Soon, Pearl came into the bedroom and began to soothe her little sister. Uncle Paladin also came in to see what was wrong with Pervinca. I told them both what happened as they tried to quiet her down. Neither Pearl nor my uncle responded my presence otherwise. I stood nearby in silence in case I was needed again, but it seemed to me that I wasn’t needed at all. Then I thought, perhaps I was to blame for making Pervinca cry. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked too many questions. Since I seemed to be near one of the lasses each time they cried, I kept to myself for the rest of the afternoon in my uncle’s study reading a book. This is where I got the idea to write this book. I figured that if Pearl could write a book about Pippin being born, then I could write one about my visit to Whitwell. While I read Pearl’s book, I heard Pippin having a tantrum out in the kitchen. I put the book down to see what was going on. Pippin was red in the face, kicking and crying for his Momma as Pearl did her best to hold him in her arms. I felt helpless watching Pearl deal with yet another crying sibling. Again, Uncle Paladin came out of his and auntie’s bedroom. He relieved Pearl of my screaming cousin, then took him into the bedroom. I could hear Pippin whimpering as auntie spoke softly to him. Pearl rested against the wall next to me in the hallway. She looked very tired. She was waiting for Pippin because she still had to give him his bath before supper. A few minutes went by before Uncle Paladin helped Pippin out of the door. “Now mind your sister--and be a good laddie when she gives you your bath.” Pippin came out of the bedroom sucking his thumb, content as could be after snuggling up to his momma. “Pippin bat,” he said, then pointed at me. “Merwy.” Pearl takes his hand and walks him towards the washroom. Pippin starts to whimper again and points to me, “Merwwy!” Pearl has been patient, but I can see she’s about to burst with anger. “I can help,” I offer. Her eyes looked so tired, “Help with what--giving him his bath? You can barely bathe yourself.” My mum said to my dad the day before of how grown up Pearl was. I saw it now, but I also knew she wasn’t much older than my bossy cousin, Pimpernel was. Putting my hands on my hips, I answered my dear cousin with great zeal, “I’ll have you know that I’ve been bathing myself for a whole year! I know how to lather up a washcloth.” However, I didn’t tell her how many times the bar slipped from my hands or got soap in my eyes--or that my mum still had to help me wash my hair. Pearl didn’t need to know all of that. Her eyes looked watery when she leaned down to hug me, saying, “Thank you, Merry. Let’s go draw the bath water for him.” Overall, Pippin’s bath went smoothly; I helped to keep him busy with his wooden blocks that floated on the water while Pearl bathed him. By the time we were finished, I was soaked. I’ve found that Pippin likes to splash a lot. Pearl grinned, “You look like a drowned rat, Merry.” She threw a towel at me, “Wrap that around yourself so that you don’t catch your--” She stopped, then corrected herself, “so that you don’t get sick.” I quickly obeyed, shivering as we exited the washroom. Pearl added, “You may as well get into your nightshirt, too. I won’t have either of you going outside anymore today with wet hair.” Dahlia is a good cook; she had made a scrumptious supper of roast pork, mashed potatoes, mushrooms, and sweet rolls. There may have been more, but I can’t recall it all now. Afterwards, I do remember that we had baked apples and cream for dessert because it’s my favourite. I helped my baby cousin with his apple by cutting it into smaller bits. Sitting in his highchair, Pippin offers me a bite of his apple with his spoon, then quickly takes it back before I can say yes or no. Pimpernel tells me this is a game he likes to play. So I play with him in return. I hold my spoon near to him, but when he tries to grab my apple, I take it back. Yet he cried when I took mine back. I found out this wasn’t how his game was played. “His game only works one way, Merry,” Pimpernel quickly gives her baby brother a piece of her apple to calm him. She grins at me, “Now play nicely, cousin. Give him a bite of your apple--I gave him a bite of mine.” I felt bad that I made him cry, so I gave him a larger piece this time. Pippin stopped crying and took the apple from my spoon, putting it in his mouth. “I’m sorry I made you cry, Pippin,” I say to him as I hug him. I notice he is smiling at me even though he still has a tear on his cheek from crying a second ago. Still eating his apple he says, “Pippin Merwy.” I then help him drink milk from his cup, but some of it ends up going down his chin as he pulls it out of my hand with both of his. Suddenly he’s coughing and spitting milk everywhere. “Merry!” This time Pearl comes to my rescue. “You have to watch him--he’s not very good with drinking out of his cup by himself yet.” Again, I feel lost and underfoot watching my older cousin mop up the mess around Pippin while patting his back to help him stop coughing. After a moment, Pippin holds his arms up, “Pippin down.” Pearl lets me take him out of his highchair. His nightshirt is wet with milk so I offer to clean him up and change him into a dry nightshirt. Later in the evening, Pippin wanted me to read to him. He took my hand, leading me into his room and gave me a book to read. He held his arms in the air again as he stood next to his cot. “Pippin up.” I helped him into bed, tucking him in just as Uncle Paladin likes to do. I brought the rocking chair up to the cot then sat down to read. It was a book about baby rabbits. Halfway through the book, Pippin is asleep, sucking his thumb again. I watch my cousin sleeping in his cot. We’re two lads against all these lasses. Three, if I count my Uncle. Something connected that night that I can’t really point out, but I think my baby cousin and I have lots of things to do together. I’ve decided he’s going to be my little brother, not my cousin. He needs looking out for round all those sisters. “Merry!” Pearl opened the door, whispering. “It’s time for bed. Come along.” I lay down the Baby Rabbit book, leaving it for the next evening. She is gone the second I am through the door. The hallway is empty and silent, save for my Uncle Paladin lighting the candle in the wall sconce. Now, at the end of the first day of doing my “task”, I do feel lost. Did I do my task well? Did I succeed in keeping my cousins busy? I yawned, too tired to think on those matters. I could hear Uncle Paladin in Pimpernel’s room. He was talking softly to her so I couldn’t make out what he said to her. My mum would no doubt scold me for trying to listen. Off I go to my own room. This is my room every time I come to stay with my cousins--and my room has a window. My room at Brandy Hall doesn’t. That’s one of the reasons why I like to stay at Whitwell. I find that Dahlia has turned down my bed, leaving a candle lit on my night table. I thought that I was a grown lad back then. I blew out the candle as I crawled into bed, pulling my thick blankets up to my ears, running my toes against cool crisp linens under the blankets. The low fire in the hearth soon warmed up my bedroom, but gave little light. I could have sworn that I saw the shadow of a dragon in the dark corner next to the door. I drew the blankets up over my head. Then I thought, how would Uncle Paladin find me if I was hidden underneath the blankets? Would the dragon eat him too when he came into my room? As I peered from under the heavy quilt, the door opened up. My heart nearly jumped out of my mouth. I sighed with relief, seeing my uncle’s silhouette in the doorway, but my heart still thumped against my chest. “A big lad now, are we?” Uncle Paladin took a bit of kindling from the small box next to the fireplace, relighting my candle. “You’re a brave boy, Merry. I was frightened of the dark at your age.” I swallow my pride. My uncle knew me as well as my own mum. “I thought I was brave, but not tonight.” He tried to hide a grin, but I saw it anyway. I see that his eyes and nose are still red. “Are you still sad, Uncle?” Uncle Paladin sat on the edge of my bed, as he did every other time he tucked me in. “I think I’ll be sad for a long time, Merry.” I find that I don’t like the thought of my dear uncle or auntie being unhappy for so long. “Its all right if you want to cry. Mum says tears help us feel better when we’re sad.” He smiled at me. I saw tears had filled his eyes again. He sniffed, wiped his eyes, then pulled me up into a warm hug, but I didn’t hear him crying. “You’re a clever lad, did you know that? And a very helpful one, too. Thank you, Merry, for all your help today.” I’ve always like it when my uncle hugs me. So I closed my eyes, resting against him. “I--I didn’t think I was being very helpful,” I stammer my reply. “No one seemed to really need me--except maybe Pippin a little.” I kept the part of spilling milk all over Pippin to myself. When Uncle Paladin let me go, I lay back down on my soft pillows. He said, “Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca have each told me tonight about the kind and helpful deeds their favourite cousin has helped them with today. You’re helping your cousins go through a very sad time, Merry.” “Does auntie know that I’m here?” “Of course she does. Your auntie likes to play with Pervinca and her dollhouse--or read to Pippin until he falls asleep. But she can’t do that right now. She’s pleased that you’re staying with us to help out for a while. We can certainly use a little helper like you.” I was very glad to hear Uncle Paladin say that. Until then, I didn’t feel like a helper at all, because to me, every time I was near somebody, they began to cry. When he told me that, I didn’t feel lost and not needed anymore. Perhaps tomorrow I’d be a helper for him. “I’m glad I’m here with you, Uncle. “Good night, Merry,” my uncle said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “I love you.” The End |
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