Took Madness

1401 SR
Pippin is 11 (or 7 in Man years) 

Part I

The rain had been falling in steady currents throughout the past week, forcing everyone to abandon their outdoor duties and activities. So it was that no one noticed when the rain turned to ice, or when the ice turned back to pounding rain. No one noticed the rivers rising, or old and weathered branches falling from sodden trees. From Buckland to Hobbiton to Michel Delving not a soul could be found upon the road or in the fields, for the hobbits of the Shire were locked indoors, staying next to comforting fires and holding steaming cups of tea or cider.

But in Tookland, in the Great Smials, something strange was happening: some of the children had become restless at last and, led by a young but boisterous Peregrin Took, they had snuck outside and up a hill.

Pippin had done his best to contain his boundless energy throughout the long days cooped up inside. He had played many games, heard many tales and even told a few himself. But now he was restless and agitated and far too bored. As a last resort, he had spied on his sisters, one of his most favorite activities, but to his disappointment he found that they were doing nothing of any interest. When Pervinca spotted him, he pretended he had just come in, seeking her out, and his plan took shape. The older children would never go for it, but the younger ones… He dragged Vinca through the many winding halls of the Smials and gathered all that he could find on their way.

“What’s this all about?” asked Everard, a cousin who lived in the Smials, ten years older than Pippin, but always in the mood for one of his games. The others gathered around and waited expectantly for Pippin’s reply.

Pippin explained his game. They shook their heads, saying no, they couldn’t, but Pippin persisted and managed to make it sound like so much fun, they couldn’t possibly say no again. So they made their way through the Smials, going quietly, each of them grabbing any long object they could find for their use that would not be missed. They met by a south-facing door, one used only by the servants, and quickly went outside. They were dressed appropriately enough for the cold and wet weather and were excited enough to not consider the consequences. All they knew was that Pippin had promised them fun, and they intended to have some.

They were six in all, all related through bloodlines in one degree or another. There was Everard, the oldest, and Pippin, the youngest. There was Ferdinand also and Pervinca, and Fredegar Bolger (who would later be known as Fatty though he had not yet gained the girth for any such nickname and was currently called Freddy by all) and his sister Estella. The Bolgers lived in Budgeford but were visiting the Smials for a while, as were many other relatives. Pippin appointed himself the leader and the older children fell in line without question.

They trudged up the hill nearest the Smials, careful to help each other up the drenched and muddy hill, and so that way they suffered only a couple of tumbles. Once at the top, they turned to look back the way they had come. The hill was not of any great height or steepness, and in normal weather they could run up it without breaking a sweat. But now they were panting from their toil as they stared down the hill, huddled together against the cold.

They could just make out the lights from the Great Smials. Under normal circumstances, the lights would have been blazing out brightly into the early evening and casting their soft yellow hues upon the ground beneath the windows. The rain and the dark looming clouds now muted the lights, and their glow reached no further than the flowerboxes, so that the children were quite in the dark. They took no notice of this however, so enthusiastic they were to begin their game.

The rules were simple. They would each take turns sliding down the side of the hill facing away from the Smials, as it was steeper and longer and covered in long blades of grass that would make the game smoother. They would use the long, broad snow shovel that Ferdinand had managed to procure from a storage room that was hardly used by the servants, and so was well-known to the children as an ideal hiding place when need or fun called for it. The grass was wet enough and the shovel flat enough that they figured they could go quite a distance. Once they stopped, they would place whatever marker they had borrowed from the smial into the ground to mark their place. Whoever sled furthest would win. They would play three rounds, and the winners of the three rounds would run a final race. Whoever won that would choose their next adventure.

“Wait,” said Estella, “what if the same person wins each round?”

“The winners will sit out until the final round,” Freddy said.

They all agreed to this and formed a line. Since this was Pippin’s idea, and he was the leader, he went first. Since he was also the youngest, they decided the best order would be youngest to oldest. Ferdinand handed him the shovel and they rooted and cheered in glee as Pippin took a running start, hopped onto the shovel head and slid, flying with all speed, towards the bottom of the hill.

The speed was faster than he had expected – the hill was extremely wet and sodden and the dirt was loose and muddy beneath the grass. Pippin held onto the handle with unabashed delight, reveling at the feel of the wet wind in his face, and slid to a stop about halfway down the hill. He jumped off the shovel, shaking with excitement (and cold) and bowed elaborately to his cheering friends. He placed his marker, a fire poker from the library, into the softened earth, only a couple of feet further down from where he stopped, then headed back up the hill, slipping and stumbling along the way. By the time he reached his friends again, his clothes were muddied and torn, but he hardly noticed as he handed the shovel to Estella.

Estella, though five years older, was still small for her age and light on her feet. She also was quite a good runner, having had plenty of practice running about with her brother and his good friend, the undauntable Merry Brandybuck. So, not surprisingly, she sailed down the hill and past Pippin’s marker by a good three feet. Vinca cheered her wildly and Freddy shouted whoops of encouragement that were carried away by a sudden gust of wind. She set her marker, a roasting fork, into the ground, picked up the shovel and returned to her friends, in much the same fashion as Pippin had.

Vinca went next, then Ferdinand, then Freddy and lastly Everard, whose job it was to collect all the markers, bring them back to his friends, and announce the winner. The winner of the first race belonged to a candlestick holder: Ferdinand. He raised his hands in triumph and was preparing to sit out the next two rounds when suddenly the sky blazed with a bright white flash, followed some moments later by earth-shaking thunder. They all dropped their metal objects and only then seemed to notice how closely they stood to a rather tall elm tree.

“We had better get inside,” Everard shouted over the renewed rain as another flash splintered the night sky. Fredegar quickly seconded the motion and they all agreed to end the game, with Ferdinand as the winner. He would decide their next adventure once they were safely inside and changed into dry clothing.

They picked up their markers and shovel, and bent low to the ground as they turned back towards the Smials. They slipped and slid to the bottom of the hill, ready to drop their burdens at a moment’s notice should the lightning strike again. They found the bottom without further incident and quickly ran inside back through the servants' door.

Only then did they finally realize the true mess they had made of themselves and their once fresh, crisp clothes. Mud and grass was everywhere, staining their clothes, dripping from their arms and legs, and clinging to their hair. Though Pervinca and Estella had wisely brought towels and stashed them near the door, they did not bring enough. The lads agreed to remain where they were, while the lasses dried up as best they could and went quickly to get more towels. If they could all somehow, miraculously, get to their rooms, clean and change without being seen, none of their parents would ever be the wiser. The laundresses would clean and mend their clothes like new and never think to say anything about it. They would be in the clear, but they first had to reach their rooms undetected, which meant none of them could leave a trail through the halls.

So the lasses dashed off, and the lads waited, cleaning themselves as best they could on the already soaked towels left behind. It would be some time before either lass returned, and they did not waste their time. Ferdinand sat with Everard and made plans for their next scheme, which inevitably involved raiding the kitchen for food. It wasn’t much of an adventure, but none would pass it up as they were all quite hungry from their game. For their part, Freddy and Pippin rummaged through the room they were in, more out of curiosity than anything else. They rarely visited the servants’ quarters or stores – the ones that were in constant use that is.

They found they were in a room full of cleaning supplies: brooms, mops, soaps, rags. They thought briefly of using the rags to clean up, but Everard overruled them. The servants would surely notice if anything went missing or was disturbed. They were going through a cupboard of strange smelling cleaning solutions when the lasses returned. They were still in their wet and muddied clothes, and they were clutching towels tightly in their hands. Behind them, following them closely, were Paladin, Odovacar Bolger, and Hilda Brandybuck, formerly of the Bracegirdles, another visiting relative who had arrived with her family from Buckland just prior to the storm.

Caught in the act, the lads stood quickly and fixed the adults with beseeching expressions. Paladin lit the lamps with his candle and looked them all sternly in the eyes. The lasses looked worried but Pippin was not very concerned. True, they would be scolded, but no harm was done after all. How much trouble could they really get into?

“Whose bright idea was this?” Paladin asked, arms crossed, his eyes landing on Pippin before he even finished the question. He raised his eyebrows in such a way that Pippin knew he was expected to start explaining himself.

He stepped forward, prepared to take the blame. “It was mine, Da. I was bored and I had done everything inside, and well, it seemed like fun. And it was! Loads of fun! But, it was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Paladin continued to glower down at his son, but his eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. He could never stay very angry with his youngest child, his only son. “Do you have any idea how worried your mother was when she went to your rooms and found you and your sister gone? Pearl knew you had all taking off down one of the halls but didn’t know where you were going. We were getting ready to search the Smials for all of you.”

They hung their heads, feeling ashamed for not thinking of the worry they would cause, though Pippin seriously doubted his mother was more worried than she was annoyed. “I’m sorry,” Pippin said again. “We should have told someone.”

“No, you should have stayed inside. You could have caught your death of cold out there.” Paladin suddenly softened, as he noticed they were all indeed cold, pale and shivering, though they were trying not to show it. “Go on and clean up.”

“But first,” said Odovacar, counting the children with his eyes, as Hilda wrung her hands worriedly behind him, “where’s Ilberic?”

Ilberic was Hilda’s youngest son, her middle child. He was a year younger than Pippin and he pestered his older cousin every time they came to visit, wanting to play with someone his own age, but always too afraid and timid to do much of the things Pippin wanted to do. Pippin found his cousin’s constant fretting exhausting and he had long ago made it a habit of avoiding him as best he could.

Pippin shrugged as the others shook their heads in confusion. “I haven’t seen him,” said Pippin and the others echoed the statement.

“Pearl said he was following you,” Paladin said, stern once again.

The children looked at each other, all equally confused and surprised by this news. “We never saw him, Cousin Pally,” Everard said, shaking his head.

“He didn’t come out with us,” Ferdinand added.

Hilda became hysterical then. “But he’s not in our rooms!” she moaned in distress. “And he wasn’t with me, or his brother or sister. He wouldn’t go wandering off by himself!”

“Don’t worry, Hilda,” Paladin reassured her soothingly. “This wouldn’t be the first time a child has hid himself in a closet or under a bed during a lightning storm. He’s probably lying somewhere fast asleep. We’ve got a system for these kinds of things, and he’ll be found before the hour is done.”

He turned to the children and motioned for the lasses to hand the towels to the lads. “Dry up, quickly,” he ordered, “then send out the call to search for Ilberic. Everyone knows what to do, but send some of the tweens back here – we’ll need to search outside as well, just to be certain.”

The children headed off, stopping all the adults they met on their way to the main parlor. Once they reached the front room, the word of the search spread quickly, and a handful of the oldest tweenagers were sent to Paladin. The children were ordered to their own rooms, to clean and change – and wait. They didn’t dare refuse, except Everard, who insisted on being allowed to go back outside to help search the grounds. He knew where they had gone, and that would be the best place to begin the search, or so he figured.
 

Pippin sat in his room, his bedraggled clothes thrown hastily into the laundry basket. He had scrubbed most of the mud off himself and changed into clean and blessedly dry clothes, then wrapped himself in one of his heaviest blankets. He had suddenly realized how chillingly cold he was upon reaching his room, where he found the fire tended and roaring in the hearth. He sat alone by the fire, a cold rock of guilt growing in his stomach.

Ilberic had been trying to get Pippin’s attention all day, but the young Took had managed to escape him each time. Now his cousin had snuck outside after them and… what? Become lost or worse, Pippin thought horribly. Then he shook his head, remembering what his father had said about closets and beds. Ilberic would have come back inside as soon as the lightning started, just as they had, if he didn’t turn around and come right back upon seeing how hard it was raining, which was the most likely case. He wouldn’t want to get wet and dirty or possibly sick, knowing how his mother would fret. He was just hiding inside somewhere, and someone would find him soon, and everything would be fine.

And so Pippin waited. And waited. Time seemed to crawl by, but surely an hour must have passed, and the search must be over, and everyone was celebrating another successful search as Ilberic was scolded and smothered by a relieved mother, and soon Paladin would come in and tell Pippin the good news.

He waited, as the fire died down and the candles burned low, and the lightning continued to blazon the sky outside, the rain once again turned to ice, which beat incessantly upon the window. Tap-tip-tap-tap. Tip-tap. Pippin at one point struggled tiredly to his feet, obsessed suddenly with the thought that maybe it was his cousin tapping upon the window. He went to it and opened it, and found nothing but the dark and the chilling, whistling wind. Ice came in and beat against him and the floor. He closed the window again and backed up to the fire, his fear finally overcoming him as tears began to roll down his cheeks. His cousin was lost, and he was the cause of it, and what if they never found him?

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he was suddenly being awakened by a warm, gentle hand upon his shoulder. He opened his eyes and yawned widely as his mother’s face came into focus.

“What closet was he in?” Pippin asked, hoping against hope as his mother enfolded him in her arms and held him tightly.

Eglantine smiled sadly and said nothing. She held her child to her and rocked them back and forth as she gazed absently into the dying embers of the fire.

“Mummy?” Pippin asked, his voice small and remote. “What closet was he in?”

“They found him near the river. We’re waiting to see if he’ll wake up.”

Pippin blinked, not understanding his mother’s words. The river? But, that was a whole mile from the Smials!

“Why don’t you just wake him up?” Pippin asked, more confused and scared now than he was before.

Eglantine did not answer. She kissed her son on his brow and hid her face in his curls. He realized with a shock that she was crying, though she was trying not to show it.

“Mum?” Pippin asked again, his voice now barely above a whisper and filled with fright. His mother was not afraid of showing emotion, but those tended to be exasperation, anger or annoyance, or pride, love or delight. He couldn’t ever remember seeing her sad or frightened. Or crying. “Mum?” Fear and panic were rising in him. He raised his small hand to brush the tears from her cheek. He didn’t want them there. He wanted them gone and his mother smiling or scolding. “Please, don’t.”

But she only grabbed his hand and pressed her lips to his fingers and held him tighter, her tears streaming feely now down her face and into Pippin’s curls. She sobbed and rocked them both in the dimly dark room, as the rain began at last to slacken against the windowpane.
 
 

To be continued...