Sparkles Like Flames

The small yellow rowboat rocked gently with the flow of the Brandywine River. It was moored to a ring driven into the wood centered on the one side of a small bridge which crossed the river just before a spot where its course widened and its current slowed. A hobbit merely needed to stand up in his boat, run an end of a rope through the ring, tie it snugly, let out a nice amount of slack then tie the rope to the stern of his boat. The current would slowly take up the slack till the boat was over which ever part of the quiet pool the fisherhobbit wished to fish. Perhaps one ought to say “Brandybuck fisherhobbit” as they are the only ones who go boating on the river.

There was a Brandybuck in this particular boat. It was, in fact, his very own boat, of which he was extremely proud. It was one of those unusual times that the birthday lad received a gift instead of giving one, the boat being a gift from his father in honor of the lad’s becoming a tween. Meriadoc Brandybuck had done some special designing on his boat. The seats had long, angled holes cut into them near to each edge. When the day’s fishing spot was reached and the rowing or guiding of the boat done, boards were lifted from their resting spot on the bottom of the craft and slid into the holes.

“This really is clever of you, Merry,” Pippin Took said from a comfortable, semi-reclined position, his back resting on the board that had been slid into one of the slots in his seat. “And to think that lots of old hobbits say tweens haven’t any brains. You even thought to put them so we can both face frontwards, or both backwards, or one back and one front, or both to the middle so’s we are looking at one another.” They were currently arranged with Pippin facing fore while Merry faced aft.

“Thank you, cousin. The shipwright was quite put out with it. ‘Fool thing ta be a puttin’ inta boat seats, young Master Merry.’ said he,” Merry laughed at his own impersonation of the Hall’s boatbuilder. “But I thought how much nicer a day of fishing would be if one had a chair to sit in, instead of a backless bench.”

Pippin awkwardly clapped his hands around the pole he was holding. “I applaud your good thinking.”

Their day in the boat passed most pleasantly. Merry would adjust the rope so they stayed in the shade of the willows that overhung the banks. They had brought two bulging hampers of food, fishing poles, books, and Merry’s old chess set as even at the “old” age of twelve, Pippin found an entire day of naught but fishing a bit difficult to endure.

It was past afternoon tea, the air was warm, the breeze gentle, the sky the bluest blue. The seat-backs had been moved about to face each other so the lads could talk more easily while enjoying their tea. Merry was reading. Pippin had been reading but now he stared out at the scenery. The banks were low and sandy here where the river slowed. Tawny sand painted the banks, green was draped on the rolling hills, a different green formed the willow leaves, greyish-brown the tree trunks, and flowing clear coffee-brown was the water of the Brandywine. Pippin watched the movement of the water. He felt himself floating along with the sticks or leaves that passed slowly by or got caught up in eddies near the shores. Ripples winding about on the surface. Ripples with sparkles of sunlight. He stared while the sparkles seemed to move into his eyes.

The room seemed oddly dark for mid-day, for a room it was that Pippin saw. A gloomy room with little flames dancing. Why were there so many? If so many, why was the room so dark? His nose filled with the smell of too much burning beeswax. Pippin sneezed.

The brown water rippled under the dappled shadows of the willows. The shadows lightened, the sun sparkles danced on the river’s surface. Pippin said nothing to his cousin about it. He never said anything to anyone.

“Merry?”

“Yes, Pip?”

“Can we go home? I mean, to the Hall. I . . . I feel tired and my head is starting to ache and I think I need to go inside for a while.”

“Of course, Pippin. I’m glad you spoke up. Wouldn’t I catch it if I brought you home ill from the heat or the sun.” Merry started hauling on the rope, pulling his boat back to the bridge where he untied it from the ring. “It’s a good thing this spot’s not far from the Hall.” He looked closely at his younger cousin. Pip did seem a bit pale, but it was the odd look to his eyes that concerned Merry. He had seen it before and it usually meant that Pippin was over tired. “We’ll get you on home. This has happened to me some times, getting dazzled by too much sun on the water. You’ll be fine, Pip, we just need to get you inside where it isn’t so bright.”

“Yes,” Pippin quietly answered. “Dazzled by the sun.”

The lads hurried back to Brandy Hall where Pippin went straight to bed and napped until supper time.

~~~~~~~

The summer eased by. Merry came to visit at Uncle Paladin’s farm in Whitwell, enjoying as he always did the chance to leave the bustle of the Hall. It seemed to him that he was so much more a regular lad when at the farm, helping with chores, chasing chickens, not having to be “the Master’s son”. His future title had no sway with his uncle, aunt or cousins. At their home he was just Merry, their kin from Buckland, and though the farm hands felt more strongly who the lad was, they knew to treat him no differently than they treated Pippin and his sisters.

This day had dawned with a blustery wind and clean-clear blue sky. The north winds were cool, a reminder that Midyear’s Day had past and that autumn would be just around the corner. For Pippin the day had not started well, though by afternoon it’s potential for being a good day was improving.

“I wonder,” Pippin had said that morning at milking, “if I were to lay under Buttercup’s bag, if I could still work her teat properly and shoot the milk into my mouth?”

Merry and Pervinca rolled their eyes at each other and went about milking the cows they had to milk . . . until they heard Pippin screaming.

“Help Eeeww Uck Help ” Then just a flat out scream of terror that was cut short.

They arrived together to find a very agitated cow that was near to treading in her freshly deposited pile of cow muck, which appeared to be moving of its own accord. As they got closer, and pushed the neighboring cow aside, the cousins could see Pippin’s eyes, the size of saucers, bulging out of the lad’s muck-spattered face, just below Buttercup’s large milk-engorged udder. The writhing pile of muck was the rest of Pippin’s body jutting out toward the muck channel from between Buttercup’s hind legs.

“Peregrin Took ” hollered Vinca, as frightened as she was angry. She knew a bad step by the cow could easily kill her brother. Pippin turned his terrified eyes to her but said nothing. He knew what he would have a mouth full of if he tried to speak.

Merry moved to Buttercup’s head, rubbing her between her eyes and crooning to her. The poor gentle old cow’s expression matched Pippin’s perfectly. Vinca quickly noted that her brother’s arms were up near his head where they would not catch on Buttercup’s legs. Patting the cow (who twitched rather badly at the first two pats), and speaking gently to her, Pervinca made her way behind the befuddled bovine. She reached down, grabbed her little brother’s muck-covered ankles, and dragged him out from under the cow. The fact that his head bumped hard going over the muck channel, Vinca felt, was the least of what Pippin deserved.

“Peregrin Took A body would think you’ve never been near a farm in your life, let alone having been born on one,” his sister said as she picked up Pippin’s empty milk bucket, dipped it into a nearby water trough then carried it to where the lad lay. Vinca first washed off the muck she had got on her hands from grabbing her brother’s ankles, then picked up the bucket and threw the water hard into her brother’s face. “Just because you’re named for a stupid bird doesn’t mean you have to go behaving like you’ve no more brains yourself,” she continued while getting more water and dousing Pippin’s torso. The splashing water was having only a minimal effect on the cow muck. Pippin hadn’t moved a muscle except for his huge eyes, which followed his sister’s every move. “You are disgusting, Peregrin Took. Disgusting I should strip you off, right here and now. In fact, I will. I can’t have you going anywhere near Mother’s nice clean house like you are.” She hit his legs with another bucket full of water. “Stand up,” she ordered, but Pippin just lay there. She swung the bucket into his wet muck-covered hip. “Peregrin Took get up this instant I’m not going to touch you to help you up.”

Merry came over, grabbed the lad’s mucky hands and pulled him to his feet. Pippin swayed and Merry feared he would crumple back to the barn floor, but somehow the dazed hobbit kept his feet and legs under himself.

“Muck.” Pippin mumbled and some of the watery mess drizzled into his mouth. “She went . . . on me.” More of the filthy water made its way into his mouth. Pippin spat and gagged.

“Don’t you dare add getting sick on yourself to this mess, Peregrin Took.” Both lads were quite aware that Vinca was still using her brother’s full name. “Merry, strip my bird brained, idiot of a brother down, will you, since you’ve already dirtied your hands helping the idiot up.”

Though older than Vinca, Merry did as he was ordered. His mum being a Took hobbitess, he knew better than to tangle with Pervinca at this moment. He stripped his young cousin down to his short clothes.

“All of it, Meriadoc. He’s filthy to the skin. That was good, runny cow manure. It didn’t stop at his clothes and neither shall I.”

Pippin’s eyes pled with Merry but to no avail. Both lads knew who was the boss at this moment. No sooner was it done than a bucket full of icy water hit Pippin’s bare skin. A few moments later a second then a third. The forth and fifth were poured over his head. Then he was surprised at the touch of soft cloth on his face while gentle fingers pushed his hair off his forehead. He more expected his sister to handle him roughly, as upset as she was. When his face was mostly dry, Pippin opened his eyes to see Vinca reaching behind her back to untie her damp, wrinkled apron.

“Now, then. Get yourself into the house and into the bathroom. Here’s my apron to wrap up in. You’ll just have to make a dash for it and hope there aren’t too many of the farmhands about. If there are, you know you’ll not soon hear the end of this. Mr. Paladin’s twelve-year-old son running about the yard in naught but a lass’s apron will make for a good many jests, I would think.”

Pippin was still rather in shock over his whole experience. He took the proffered apron and wrapped it around his waist without a word of protest. His being young and a bit on the scrawny side helped, the apron overlapped behind him while he had enough length in the ties to tie it in front of himself. Merry peered around the barn doors, walked a few steps out into the farmyard then nodded to his wet, still slightly mucky, half-apron clad, cousin. Pippin ran to the house, doing the first active thing he had done since the disaster had occurred. Eglantine saw a Pippin-sized, half-naked streak go through her kitchen, followed by the strong stench of manure then followed by her nephew. At second breakfast the whole tale was told. Pippin hardly ate as it was difficult to get the food to go down his throat. A good laugh was had by all, except the embarrassed Pippin, and it was decided that he needed no punishment - he had suffered enough as it was.

Now it was after luncheon and the lads were out in the south field. A field that usually held crops but was fallow this year.

“Pippin, hold still.”

“But, Merry . . .”

“No, “but, Merry”. This will be wonderful. You’ll love it.”

Pippin wasn’t sure he hadn’t had enough of new experiences for one day and yet . . . this did sound rather exciting. He just wished the kite looked stronger.

“As I said, if this works, I’ll really have to give Vinca at least part of the credit. It was her calling you a bird brain . . .”

“You already said all that, Merry.” Pippin wanted to avoid another round of going over his own mental shortcomings. “Do you really think this will work? How high do you think I’ll go?”

“It will work because you are a pathetic little excuse for a hobbit lad,” Merry teased his cousin, “you’re a Took, and you aren’t all that afraid of heights.” He tightened up the cord around Pippin’s right thigh. “There now. All that’s left is to stand you up.”

Pippin was lying face down in the deep grass, tied to a large rectangular kite that was lying on top of him. His arms were spread out to each side and backed by the kite, while it went down on his legs ending just above his knees. Every once in awhile, the wind would catch the edge of the kite, tugging him the slightest bit skyward from his knees up.

Merry had hold of the rope that was tied about his young cousin’s waist, the rope that would keep Pippin from flying completely away on the wind, as he stood near Pip’s head and pulled up on the front edge of the kite.

It was a good thing Merry had hold of the rope.

As soon as Pippin was part way vertical, the wind caught the kite and jerked him out of Merry’s hands. Pippin somehow thought to lift his feet behind him as he began to be dragged along on his knees. The kite, with Pippin, lifted off the ground only to drop, drag the lad a bit more, then lift again. The wind dropped and he landed face down, but a gust caught him so he was jerked up to his knees again. And then . . .

. . . Pippin was flying.

For a while, it was ecstacy. He had been higher up before, in trees, but this was different, this was moving, floating, free . . . except for the rope around his waist. He shifted his weight to stay balanced. He was as near to flying as he could be. Then Pippin looked at the sun.

It was shining through the window. Maybe the window was dirty, because the sun didn’t seem bright enough. There were little flames all around, just like before, but still the room seemed gloomy. He felt lonely in the dimly lit room.

Then Pippin hit the ground.

Merry had seen the Pippin-kite begin to tip and tumble so he was there seconds after his cousin landed; hitting the ground on the edge of the kite that extended past Pip’s left hand, before turning over to land the lad face down. Merry, unsure how to flip the thing over without possibly hurting Pippin, pulled out his pocket knife and cut the cords that bound his cousin to the kite. He threw the battered kite to one side then knelt next to Pippin.

“Pip? Pippin? Are you all right?”

“The room is still dark.”

“Room? What room, you’re outside, Pippin.” Merry suddenly felt rather chilled. Pippin, however, was getting his wits back.

“No, Merry. I flew like a lark,” he muttered as he turned his head to look at Merry. “I flew, Merry. You were right, it was wonderful. Am I still flying?” Pippin asked before he swooned.

When he woke up, he remembered the dimly lit room, but said nothing.

Pippin began to feel haunted by the room. He saw it more often, becoming aware of more details. Gingham checked curtains at the dimly glowing window, porcelain cups and saucers on a shelf in the shadows, the smell of all those beeswax candles. But everything seemed nearly colorless, as though seen at early morn or late dusk. And each time it seemed there were more of the little dancing candle flames. He saw the room while looking at the crystals that dangled from the dainty lampshade on a lamp in the best parlor. He saw it in the morning when the dew sparkled on the grass as he went to do his chores and he saw it in the evening when Merry and he looked at the stars and the glow worms.

It was one of those beautiful evenings when the sky is clear and you know the stars will be brilliant. The cousins were out away from the house and farm buildings sitting on the far side of a small rise to watch the “show”. Merry was lying back puffing his new pipe. Pippin was sitting up with his arms about his pulled-up legs. Neither spoke. It wasn’t a moment for talking. It was early evening and the sun had yet to set. The colors of the world had not yet faded, but one could feel the world slowing down. Lamp light would soon be gleaming from the round windows of the Took home.

Time passed.

Pippin jerked up straight, gasping sharply as he did. In a blur of motion he was up and running toward the stable.

“Pip? Pippin, wait ” Merry dumped out his pipe, stomping out the glowing ashes before running after the lad. When he got to the stable Pippin had a bridle over his shoulder and was opening Pepper’s box stall door. “Pippin, what is going on? What are you doing? You can’t just take Pepper. Pippin ” he finally hollered at his frantically moving cousin.

“I know. I know where it is. I have to hurry.” Pippin’s hands where flying, taking off the dapple pony’s halter to replace it with the bit and bridle. “It’s Cousin Adelard’s pipe. I recognized the carving.” He placed the bit into Pepper’s mouth, settled the headstall behind his ears and buckled the throat latch. “The room is Cousin Adelard’s.”

“Room?” Merry no longer cared about the fact that Pip shouldn’t be taking the pony to go anywhere. Pippin led Pepper into the center aisle of the stable.

“Room. Room with too many candles. It’s Cousin Ade’s room.” Pippin stopped his frantic moving to stare up at Pepper’s back. “Up, Merry. Leg up, please.”

Merry shouldered Pippin out of the way, grabbed Pepper’s mane at the withers and swung himself up onto the pony’s back, then held out his hand to his little cousin. “Come on. I’m going with you.” Pippin only hesitated a few seconds before taking Merry’s hand to be pulled up in front of the older lad. Then they thundered out of the stable into the darkening day.

Pepper was lathered, the lads breeches were wet with it, when they slid to a stop before Adelard Took’s small home. Pippin was off the pony before he had really stopped and was running to the door, his cousin right behind him. Merry knew he should walk Pepper but somehow felt he had better follow his half-crazed cousin. Pippin had said nothing but “Hurry ” over and over the whole way to Adelard’s.

Smoke rolled out the door as soon as the young Took yanked it open, without so much as a tap on it first.

“Help ” They heard, along with a great deal of coughing. “I can’t see ”

At least the old Took was away from the room where the flames were growing. The lads caught his flailing arms, dragging him toward the front door.

“It’s Pippin ” Pip shouted above the crackle of flames and the coughing of Adelard. “Paladin’s Pippin And Merry We have you We’re getting you out ”

They were out the door and into the yard, smoke trailing them. Pepper danced about nervously but hadn’t bolted. Merry took up the pony’s reins to begin cooling him down while Pippin stayed with his Cousin Ade. Pip guided the hobbit to a bench, sat him down then went to the well to draw up some water. He dipped the tin cup that sat near the well then brought it over to Adelard. But the older Took made no move to take the cup.

“Cousin Ade?”

“Yes . . . (cough) . . . yes Pippin?”

“Here’s some water for you.”

Soot-smudged hands reached out . . . but not toward the cup. Pippin touched the cup to his cousin’s right hand which then closed around it. Pippin looked carefully at Ade’s face, especially his green eyes.

“Your eyes aren’t seeing well, are they, Cousin Ade?” Pippin whispered.

“They’re fine, lad, just . . . well, it’s been so blasted gloomy of late. I open the curtains and shutters, I light the lamps, why - I’ve even lit extra candles but it . . .” Adelard stopped. He jumped a bit as the sound of hungry flames eating his home grew louder. His shoulders slumped, his chin dropped toward his chest. He coughed a bit then slumped even more. “No, Pippin lad, they aren’t. I . . . I could scarce see to light all those dratted candles this even. I’m thinking those candles was what went to smoking and . . .” He lifted his face toward what had been his home. He felt the heat but barely saw any of the light of the flames as they licked at the sky through the roof. Pippin put both arms around the elder hobbit, holding and comforting him as he mourned the loss of his home.

Pippin knew. He had seen through the dimming eyes. It had taken seeing the old pipe, carved to look like a tree stump, for him to understand why the room had kept looking so dingy and dull, to know why so many candles had been lit. It had been at Yule just past that Pip had noticed how badly Cousin Ade’s squinting had become. He had suddenly known, Cousin Adelard had been slowly going blind.

The flames were getting lower by the time the neighbors began to arrive. There was naught to be done. Everyone said how glad they were that Ade was all right. Everyone said how sad they were that his home and belongings were gone. Ade went home with Paladin, riding in the light buggy in which Paladin had arrived. Merry and Pippin rode Pepper home.

“How did you know, Pip?” Merry asked as Pepper walked along.

“I smelled the smoke. We were down wind.”

Merry thought a few moments. “Pippin, we weren’t down wind and there wasn’t really any smoke until you opened the door. You were babbling about a room with too many candles and your Cousin Ade’s pipe.”

Pippin’s reply was softly spoken. “Yes, I smelled smoke and it reminded me of the smell when we’ve been at a large party at Great Smials and the party is over and all the candles in the big chandeliers get blown out. You know, lots of candle smoke. And I remembered last time I was at Cousin Ade’s that when he lit his pipe he then lit what seemed like an awful lot of candles, so the smoke smell made me think of his house.”

“Pippin . . .” Merry began to argue but changed his mind. Did it really matter what had sent his young cousin racing toward old Ade Took’s house? They had arrived in time to save the old dear, that was all the really mattered. “Well done then, Pip. Well done.” He gave the lad a hug.

Pippin said nothing to his cousin about it. He never said anything to anyone.

My challenge was to write Merry and Pippin as children (they are more youths in this), the Took Sight, and a bad fire that the lads didn’t start.