Pimpernel

Mum says that from the time Pimpernel was about five or so, she has followed our father out onto the farm to help with the chores. Mum says that my older sister would not be kept inside or left behind. It seems that until I showed up, Nell was my parent’s only son. Oh, I call her Nell because Previnca does. Pimpernel was too much for Pervinca to say when she first started talking and so that’s how Pimpernel became Nell.

By the time I turned up, she had been Nell for four years or so. She seems to prefer it because, like me, if she hears her formal name, then she knows that she is in trouble. Nell gets into trouble still from time-to-time, though not as much as she used to. Mum says that Nell has grown up quite a bit recently, having turned twenty-seven a while back. I don’t believe that Nell has grown up all that much.

Nell is the tallest of my sisters, even though she is not the oldest. She has always been taller than most lasses and sometimes it is hard for her. I have watched her tower above the lads at dances or slump her shoulders to stand a bit more even with the other lasses. It seems that she and I need to trade heights in the worst way. I spend most of my time trying to stand as straight as I am able so that I can look as tall as lads my age. A trade would be nice, but I don’t think it’ll happen.

Nell looks like Pervinca in coloring, but favors the Tooks more than Vince does. Nell also has the Took temper. She’s not quick to anger but if you make her angry then you are in for some serious trouble. Once, when I was five, I watched as Nell twisted my cousin Merry’s arm behind his back and made him eat a worm. I felt sorry for Merry, but at the same time, it was quite a show. Merry is three years younger than Nell and at that time, she was still stronger and they stood head to head. Mostly, they are great friends, but once in a while they clash and things turn ugly. At these times, I try to get out of the way because coming between them is like standing in the middle of a field of poison ivy. There is no safe place to land.

Nell could run our farm all by herself, but I am afraid that she would starve if she lived alone. She tries, but she simply can’t cook. I remember making a cake with her once when I was nine. The two of us almost burned down the smail with our efforts. Somehow, we set a table cloth on fire and Nell tried to put it out by dumping an entire bag of sugar onto it. It was the first thing she could reach and we were desperate. It was the worst smell! Also the fire didn’t go completely out, it just consumed the sugar and kept at it. Nell finally dumped the dish water on it and that put the fire out, but the table was never quite the same. We have to keep it covered when company comes. Father has been going to refinish it and just never seems to get to it. He says it’s a good reminder to all of us what fire can do. I think he just doesn’t want to refinish the table.

Nell tells the best stories of anyone in the family. I used to love it when she would tell one of her original stories late at night. She makes up the best characters and she even does sounds and voices when she gets into a tale proper like. She must get this talent from where ever our cousin Bilbo gets it, because he is the only one that tells a better tale than Nell does.

If Nell was bad to follow our father, than I was worse about following Nell. She would start out to the barn or to the garden and turn and see me coming along behind her whether she wanted me or not. Most of the time she would give in and let me tag along, but once in awhile she would pick me up under her arm and carry me, kicking and yelling, back to the smail and give me to the first family member willing to take me. When she did allow me to come, I always had a grand time.

On one of these trips out to the barn, I learned how to throw. Nell and I were teasing each other and she threw an egg at me. It went all in my hair and that started it. I took one of my eggs and threw at her and missed. I hit one of the cows.  Fortunately, the cow wasn’t bothered as it hit her flank and she hardly noticed. Nell was quick to return fire and the next thing I knew, I was coated in egg yoke. I was so frustrated by my complete lack of skill. I hadn’t hit her once, though I’d thrown a good many eggs at our cows. Nell had mercy on me and decided to teach me to throw proper. An entire basket of eggs later, I was getting pretty good.

Unfortunately, father was not amused with our morning’s work or pleased with my new talent. We both got a very stern lecture on wasting food and then Nell got sent off to mum for her punishment and I got a strapping. By the end of the day, I couldn’t sit down, but I could hit a target with an egg. I think it was a fair trade. Nell had kitchen duty for a week. My older sisters often get a worse punishment than I do when we get caught up to no good. Their least favorite phrase is, "You are older and so should know better." Just lately, this phrase isn’t cropping up as much as it did. I suspect that being the youngest isn’t going to help all that much in the future.

Nell is the sister that gets stuck with me and my lessons the most often. She is like my older cousin Frodo Baggins and she likes to read. I would rather do most anything else and so I am a challenge for Nell. She is trying to teach me the family histories lately. It is interesting, but I keep getting confused about which cousin married who and how many children they had. Father says a proper hobbit should know his history and all about his family’s deeds, but some days it seems to me that all the Tooks do is marry and have more Tooks. Nell says I can learn it, if I pay attention and so I am trying to live up to her expectations. Other than my cousin Merry, Nell seems to expect the most out of me.

Nell is my companion at parties and dances. She and I stand and talk together when the couples start to pair off. Pervinca is much in demand as a dancing partner and Pearl is off with the older crowd. I am still considered to be an annoyance at these parties as I am too young for the pairing off and too old to be left off of the guest lists. After Merry goes off for the evening with one of the giggling lasses that follow him about lately, I am grateful for Nell’s company.

She and I raid the food tables and sing along to the music. Sometimes we sneak out of the party and find a good place to sit for a talk. Once in a while, Nell will let me have a sip or two of ale. She won’t let me have as much as Merry will, but she does give in sometimes. Just recently, though I fear that I may be in danger of losing her company at these parties. Some of the lads have started to notice her and are paying her some attention. I will be sorry to see her go, but I am very surprised that it has taken them this long to find her.