February Bride
by Cúthalion

When Peregrin Took told his mother that he had no intention of waiting until spring with his wedding, Eglantine shook her head in stunned disbelief.

She herself had been a bride in June, her red blonde, curly head crowned with freshly bloomed roses (and her brand new husband so pale and trembling, she feared he might faint as he whispered the wedding vow).

He did not faint, however, and they had had many happy years together. During the troubles Paladin had proven once more to be a good Thain, foresighted and clever. His wisdom and strength had spared the Tooklands the worst excesses of terror, and the reputation of the tookish archers had reached a legendary quality – as legendary as his son, the Knight of Gondor.

Now, standing in the Thain’s study, Eglantine gazed at her husband with a mixture of fondness and impatience. He sat behind his huge desk, biting at the stem of his pipe (like he always did when he was thinking). He had sat the same way the evening when Pippin returned from that miraculous quest… he had slowly risen from his chair, staring wordlessly and incredulously at the young giant standing on the threshold, clad in black and silver, at the same time familiar and shockingly strange.

“Hello Father.”

“Pip… Peregrin? Is that you?”

And Eglantine had leaned against the wall beside the door, her head spinning from too much unexpected joy and tears blurring her view. But she saw clearly enough how Paladin laid down the pipe and came around the desk with two or three fast steps, his arms reaching out for this hero of elves, men and hobbits who in this moment was nothing more but the most precious thing of all: his son, lost and found. ----

“Why can’t they wait?” she heard herself ask. “Only a few months… only until spring or early summer.”

“Would you have wanted to wait, my love?” Paladin’s voice was gentle. “Your father was not particularly happy when you agreed to become my wife. If I had been a more obedient son, we would perhaps have lost more than a few months.”

Eglantine swallowed; he was right and she knew it.

He stepped close and caressed her cheek.

“You know, our son has discovered one of the basic truths in life, my dove”, he said, his mouth in her hair. “You never know what may happen tomorrow, and you should use the time you have well.” He smiled at her, his eyes serious. “He hasn’t told me everything yet, and perhaps he never will. There are things that should better stay in the secrecy between husband and wife. Diamond is a wonderful girl, and she loves him very much. Let her be the cure he needs.”

*****

February was cold and wet, and Eglantine did her very best to suppress her worst misgivings while she was caught up in a breathless whirl of preparations.

On the day of the wedding the morning air held a new chill, and around midday snowflakes began falling silently from the heavy gray clouds hanging over the hills around Tuckborough. In the evening Peregrin Took stood in the Meeting Hall of the Great Smials, his cousin Merry beside him. He felt his heart missing a beat when he saw Diamond slowly approaching, clad in white silk, a wreath of evergreen and ivy in her honey brown hair, her gray eyes shining with joy and tenderness.

Paladin himself joined them in marriage, laying their hands together and speaking the blessing. He shared the first dance with the beautiful bride – and as they drew guests and family in a turbulent springlering, it was easy to forget the white blanket slowly burying the paths and meadows outside. The cooks of the Great Smials outdid themselves, serving ham, roasted with honey and sweet onions, cabbage pies, black salsify and carrots in cream sauce. There were delicious little puff pastries filled with candied apples and raisins, cherry compote and vanilla pudding, giant apple cakes with cinnamon crumbs and even chocolate candy, ordered for this special occasion from Bree. The hobbits – two hundred Tooks, Brandybocks, Bolgers and Bracegirdles, sisters and brothers, cousins, uncles and aunts – ate and drank until the huge tables looked rather barren, and most of the guests didn’t even try to return home in the icy night. They were stuffed in every spare room, little children huddled together on a pile of cushions like tired whelps, the elder ones sitting in chairs, sleepily sharing the last gossip over the last glass of wine.

The bedroom prepared for the newlyweds was resplendent with a giant bed full of opulent pillows, thick down coverlets and wool blankets. A fire was roaring in the fireplace and Eglantine had arranged little bowls with dried rose petals on the table, the nightstands and the mantle piece. Diamond stood at the window of the summer-smelling room, watching the winter outside; snow was still falling in big flakes and painted a delicate pattern on the glass.

“Hello, love.”

He stood behind her, a dark shade against the deep golden light of the flames, and when he touched her shoulder, she laid her fingers over his hand. He had been in Crickhollow until one day before the wedding (a fact that caused some rather snappish comments from his future mother-in-law), but Diamond didn’t mind. Since that hot day during the harvest last year there had never been any doubt in her heart that she was his, and the determined, unflinching way Pippin pushed their betrothal and marriage might have been astonishing for their families, but for her it was not. She didn’t care for a summer wedding or any other appropriate feast; the whole pompous kerfuffle only filled her with a kind of faint amusement. She was his wife now, and that was the only thing important.

She remembered the Yule evening only two months ago when Pippin stood up in the middle of a meal that had been at least as satisfying as this one. He bowed in front of his father and of her parents, raised his glass and asked for Diamonds hand. In the deafening silence that followed she noticed two things: the fierce joy and rock-solid confidence in his face and the expression of surprised approval in the face of Meriadoc Brandybock who sat beside him. Then her mother dropped her still half-filled mug of cider and the whole company of guests around the table started to talk at the same time.

Paladin Took and her father withdrew into the study and talked until deep into the night; in the end the air in the room was blue with pipe smoke and the conversation faded to a tired, contented „Good Night, old lad” from both sides. Her mother discussed the matter with every goodwife available and then lay down after a huge glass of primrose wine to recover from the shock. And when all her relatives and future relatives had finally gone to sleep, Diamond opened the window of her guest bedroom and let her brand new bridegroom in. She watched him light the candles on the nightstand, she watched him undress, strewing his clothes all over the room in his haste, and then she freed herself from her nightgown, took him into her bed and joyfully gave him her maidenhood.---

Now, in her wedding night, she turned around to him and drew him close, burying her face in his shirt. He smelled of herbs, pipe weed and lavender, and she could sense his very own scent underneath… a faint aroma, warm and tart.

“Did you finally get rid of your family?” she asked with a smile and felt an answering laughter ripple through his chest.

“No Took ever gets rid of his family”, he replied, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “You should have known that before, my beautiful lass.”

She gazed up at him, a bold light in her eyes. “As if that could have kept me away, my heart!”

Now his mouth found hers, and as husband he tasted as good as he had as her bridegroom and lover – if not better. The fresh bond between them was strong like a twofold, vivid string, tied around their souls. His arms held her, and she felt the slow caress of his long, slender fingers moving up and down on her back. She rose on her tiptoes – he was really tall – and grazed her fingers through his hair. Yes. This was it.

The night was completely silent; all she could hear was the soft rustling of cloth under their fingers and the united rhythm of their breath, getting faster and a little heavier as she ran her hands down his spine and closed them around his buttocks.

Suddenly there was a sound from outside the window – astonishingly loud and deep. Diamond recognized it at once. It was one of the wooden horns a group of tomboyish tweens had used this morning – together with drums, flutes and some dreadfully noisy rattles – to „wake the bride”. It was a well-known custom, but she had for a dizzy moment pondered if she should empty her chamber pot over their heads instead of offering the plate of sweets that was waiting on the table.

It was nothing more than the last fanfare of a turbulent, happy feast, but it had an odd effect on Pippin. He gave a strange, ragged moan - then he pulled back, and for an endless moment stood without any movement.

„Pippin?”

Again he had the light of the flames behind him, and she couldn’t see the expression on his face. A small, sudden fear tugged at her heart.

“Pippin? What…”

He sighed.

“I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t sleep well during the last nights. I…”

He sighed again.

“You know… there were bad dreams…” A long pause. „During the quest… I … I don’t know how… I’m sorry.”

He turned away, his entire body taut like a bowstring under her seeking hands. She could feel an imaginary barrier rise between them… a barrier she’d never thought to be existent or even possible only the blink of an eye ago.

“Tell me.” she whispered, forcing her voice to soft gentleness. “Tell me, love.”

He shrugged, clenching his fist in helpless anger.

“That must be truly a fine wedding night for you”, he murmured bitterly. “I bet you expected anything else than to be haunted by the old nightmares of your husband. I guess I have to apologize.”

He turned around, and even under his embarrassment and sadness she could clearly see a stubborn courage, powerful enough to make her shiver with pride that she now belonged to someone so strong and brave.

“No apologies”, she said firmly. “I want to know about those nightmares. How can I be of any help when you leave me ignorant?”

His bright green eyes were shadowed and troubled as he gazed at her. “Are you sure that you want to hear this?”

She smiled and drew him into her arms again; she could feel the tension slowly running out of his body. „Do you really need to ask?”

And so he told her while the flames in the fireplace slowly burnt down. He sat on the bed and she sat on his lap; he held her close, his brow against her warm breast. He spoke about a February evening eight long years ago when he and Merry played the bait for a bloodthirsty band of Uruk-Hai on a hunt for hobbits – to give Frodo a chance to escape. He told her how he had seen Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, warrior and friend, storming towards them, his sword in hand, his face pale and determined. How he fought for them, offering his body as a shield and finally as a sacrifice when the desperate call of the Horn of Gondor died away unheard.

“I could never bid farewell.” he whispered, his hands trembling on her skin. “The last I ever saw of him was his bent figure, arrows protruding from his back and chest like horrid, bizarre flowers. You know, Boromir had tried to…” He was silent, and his heavy breath warmed her neck. The was more underneath, more to come, more to be told, but she instinctively knew that she would have to wait for another day to learn about the rest of that particular, haunting tale. Strangely enough it didn’t bother her at all. They had enough time. She sighed and closed her eyes. One moment later, she opened them again n surprise – he had softly begun to sing.

Home is behind, the world ahead.
And there are many paths to tread…

It was a tune of terrible sadness, but his voice was – as always – lovely, a sweet, clear tenor. She tried to remember if she had ever heard this song from him before, but she was not sure.

Through shadow to the edge of night.
Until the stars are all alight...

For an instant his voice broke, but then he took a deep breath and continued.

Mist and shadows, cloud and shade.
All shall fade. All shall fade.

A shudder ran through his entire body, and again he didn’t speak for a very long time. This time she simply waited.

“I sang for Boromir’s father, when I first came to Minas Tirith”, he finally said. The words dripped slowly into the silence of the room. “He asked me for a song, and all I had to offer was… this. He was a proud man, but he was dying from inside, and no one knew it. He went mad before my very eyes.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, still wordless, and again that inner door she could clearly feel in his heart fell shut. Enough… it is enough for this night. There would be the right moment to listen when he was ready to tell her about this painful memory and all those other nightmares… what he needed now was comfort, and she was able to offer it. Diamond trailed her lips along his brow and down over his cheekbones until she had reached the corner of his mouth. He received her kiss with the innocent eagerness of a boy, but after a while he deepened it, his lips opening and his tongue seeking entrance, and now this was the mature hunger of a hobbit far beyond his childhood… though still of a certain innocence, and for that fact she felt a deep thankfulness. She was more than willing to accommodate, and soon he got rid of his clothes again, like in that night of Yule. He whispered words of love, his familiar, tookish accent a gentle drum roll in her ears. Her nightgown sailed down on the floor and she rose, turned around and moved backwards to where he now knelt, his pale skin shining like ivory in the growing darkness.

She opened her legs and sank down on him with a gasp, pinned on silky smoothness and living iron. His hands lay over her breasts, stroking and kneading, and his chin on her shoulder sent waves of pain and pleasure through her entire body. His voice was a clear, wonderful song of ecstasy – a new, happy song – and it made her body hum with every fiber. She felt the strong muscles in his thighs flex under her, and then he gently pushed her forward again, his palm between her shoulder blades, and she closed her fingers in a white-knuckled grip around the carved bedposts. He rose behind her, both hands on her hips, and she threw back her head and met his strong, regular thrusts with growing fervidness, sighing, moaning, hissing his name and trembling under the onrush of the fiery wave that built up in her body and mind. And then she suddenly heard his strangled scream; he buried himself deep inside of her one last time and his peak was a white hot explosion, kindling her own climax and sending sparks of blazing joy through her heated, yielding flesh.

It took some time until they had regained their breath. Diamond felt the tiredness after a long, exhausting day and a night of revelations approaching like a warm, soothing wave, and he gave in to it together with her, his cheek against her bare shoulder. Before she drifted away to the first sleep in her matrimonial bed, she heard his voice once more, slightly hoarse, but filled with a silent smile.

“My jewel…” he murmured. “My precious gem. Thank you.”

My Knight of Gondor. Most precious hobbit of all. My One and Only. My love.

“My pleasure.” she whispered, and then sleep washed over her and carried her away.

THE END