Chapter Twenty - Fire and Ire

Aldigard removed his hat as the Great Door to the Smials opened up, the light from the hallway spilling out into the night. “Good evening, Miss,” he said, “My name is Aldigard North-took, from Long Cleeve. We’re here on errand to see Mrs. Brownfield.”

“M’name is Daisy,” said the servant with a curtsy, “at yer service.” Her brow furrowed, “Mrs. Brownfield? She’s at the Fair with her family.”

“When do you expect her to return?” asked Aldigard. “You see, it’s very important.”

“Prob’ly not ’til after the dance,” she answered him. “Usually goes on well after midnight.”

“What is it, Daisy?” asked Everard, walking up behind the young lass. He and his family did not attend the Fair this year--with Thistle having a head cold and his expecting-wife Laurel feeling ill more and more lately.

Daisy conveyed Aldigard’s purpose to Mr. Everard. “Mistress Pimpernel won’t be back for quite a while, I’m afraid,” Everard concurred, scratching at his head with a tired yawn. He was exhausted, and these travelling hobbits looked worse than he felt. Moreover, to make matters more interesting, Reggie was off in Michel Delving with his wife attending her aged mother lying on her deathbed. “Seems I’m wearing two hats this evening,” Everard smiled wearily. “Daisy, please prepare the family guest quarters--,” he paused, “you lads are all family, I take it?”

“Aye, sir,” answered Aldigard. “This lad,” he gestured to the taller lad, “is my son, Andobras North-took. This other lad is my nephew, Valdigrim.”

Everard was forced to think…he had heard the last lad’s name used before…not too long ago. Oh, my!, he thought to himself. “Daisy, please continue on and prepare the family guest quarters for these gentle-hobbits. And after you have shown them to their rooms, please come to my office.”

What Everard said--and didn’t say--wasn’t lost on Daisy. These stranger-hobbits did not seem to be scoundrels, or Mr. Everard would not bother with putting them up for the night. Yet everything wasn’t exactly right, either, because now Mr. Everard was on his way to his office. She’d be quick about her business, that’s for sure.

* * *

Pippin sat winded at the picnic table wiping sweat from his brow. “I don’t think I have anymore dances left in me,” he said, feeling the weight of his mail shirt. “But I suppose I should get Petunia’s dance out of the way.”

Most folk had already left the dance, having young children to put to bed. Only a few young couples danced while several lasses stood about hoping for a second dance with the Thain’s son. In addition, a few members of Paladin’s family remained at the table…and then, of course, Petunia sat with her friends.

“I’m going to sleep well tonight,” remarked Diamond, sitting beside Pippin, and also out of breath. Pippin insisted on dancing every other dance with her.

“I hope not,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I might want to play draughts at four in the morning.” He looked over to the dwindling group of lasses. “Ah well, she isn’t going to go home without one and I did say that I would perhaps dance with her later. Here I go.”

“A glutton for punishment, I say,” said Merry, sitting across from him. Kali lay peacefully in his dad’s arms.

“Well, so far she hasn’t tried to come between me and Diamond,” Pippin standing up to perform his task.

“That’s because she hasn’t been given the chance,” Merry shot back, gently sweeping his arm round Stella’s shoulder. Diamond’s ears perked up at his words.

Once Pippin had gone, Merry reached under the table, giving his wife’s hand a squeeze to signal her. Stella caught his gaze then looked over to Diamond, who stared at the table with an empty expression on her face. “Diamond, would you care to dance with me?” he winked at her. “Stella is busy holding the baby, and she’s actually asleep right now.” Diamond looked up at the kind hobbit and nodded. “Stay here with Auntie Pimpernel,” he told Kali, sitting the sleepy two-year-old in his cousin’s lap.

When the music started, Pippin groaned, “Oy…not the Springle-Ring!” His poor tired legs could barely keep up with Petunia, who surprisingly had lots of energy. Merry and Diamond lapped Pippin and Petunia several times. “This had better be his last dance,” Merry snickered, “unless it’s with you, of course.”

“He looks so exhausted,” observed the tween. “I could always dance with him another time.” Being that Merry was a head taller than she, Diamond didn’t see him smile at her remark.

The music ended, leaving Pippin bent over and breathless. Petunia saw Merry and that wretched lass walking in her direction. Petunia knew from the moment Pippin passed her by to ask that wench for the first dance that she had lost her chance with him. Not to worry; at least she would give the wee upstart a piece of her mind. Better yet! “Pippin,” she said, tugging up on his surcoat, forcing him to a standing position. Petunia quickly pulled Pippin close, her lips fully upon his.

Merry stopped in his tracks, having a dreadful memory. Diamond kept walking, her eye locked on the scene taking place.

Pippin felt as if he was suffocating, his arms flailed until they found Petunia and shoved her away. “What are you doing?” he gasped, wiping his lips with his sleeve. “Are you cracked, lass?”

Ignoring Pippin, Petunia glared at Diamond, “Are you surprised, little lassie? My advice to you is to not meddle in the affairs of your betters.”

“Surprised?” said Diamond, her arms firmly folded over her chest, fire in her brown eye, returning the glare. “Not in the least--not after all the things I’ve heard about you. It’s one thing to say insulting things about me or to me, but when you mistreat my friends that is another matter entirely. Instead of taking advantage of them, take a moment to think about what these lads have done for the Shire so that we can have dances like this. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Miss Petunia! But from the look of things it appears that shame is something you lack.”

“How dare you!” Petunia swung her hand out toward Diamond as if to strike her. By this time, Merry had caught up to Diamond, standing behind her. With snake-like reflexes he reached out and grabbed Petunia’s wrist. “Don’t,” was all he said, but his icy blue eyes spoke volumes.

Pippin’s breathing had become more regular. His voice barely audible, he said to Petunia, “Please leave.”

Back at the picnic table, Pimpernel stood waiting for Merry with his young son. “Are you all right?” she asked the threesome as they returned.

“I’m fine,” Merry said with a slight grin. “I think Diamond is a tad upset.” He looked over to the tween, anger still smouldering in her dark features.

“I don’t blame her--I would be, too, after the deed Petunia just pulled,” Pim replied, lightly bouncing the sleeping babe in her arms. “I almost don’t want to give him back to you,” she said handing Kali over to Merry. “He reminds me so much of Hilly when he was two.”

“Where is everyone?” asked Pippin, seeing Merimas and Pervinca were missing, as well as Pearl and her family.

“They went back to the tent to get a head start on gathering their belongings,” answered Eglantine. “It’s almost one o‘clock, son,” she said, smiling at her lad and patting him on the back. “Time for all young hobbits to be in bed.”

Pippin hugged his mother and blushed, “I’m not a young laddie anymore, mother.” They all began walking back toward the Thain’s tent.

“Thank you,” he whispered into Diamond’s ear as they walked behind the rest of the family in the darkness, his hand clasped round hers.

“For what?” she asked.

“For your trust,” he said. “I would never willing kiss that lass--nor any other lass,” he quickly added the last words.

“I know that,” Diamond answered quietly, feeling Pippin wrap his arm round her; she smiled, feeling her heart flutter. The tween then snuggled closer, putting her arm round him.

Diamond heard and felt Pippin snicker. “What are you laughing about?” she asked.

“You’re definitely a granddaughter of Bandobras,” he replied, giving her a loving squeeze.

“Oh, I am!” she said, “I’m a direct descendant through my father and his father--all the way back to Bandobras himself.”

Pippin gazed in amazement at the wee lass walking beside him, her arm round him. His heart swelled with pride…and love. “When I was a child, I used to dream of being in his band of hobbits fighting off orcs and all enemies of the Shire.” He sighed sadly, “And then…I got my chance when I was older…and I quailed at the sight of just one.” His thoughts came back to the present, feeling Diamond’s arm tighten round him. “I’m sorry.” Pippin didn’t mean to let “things” slip like this, but he felt so comfortable in Diamond’s presence.

“Don’t be,” she spoke softly. “I want to hear everything, Mr. Pippin, not just the nice moments. I know all too well that there were gruesome times, too.” She looked up at him, “We have a few books in our family’s keeping--they’re not kept in the libraries at all. They tell of the Bullroarer after the battle. My uncle keeps them at his house. When I lived with him I snuck a look at them. You will be surprised to find that you and Bandobras are not so different.” Diamond’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she felt Pippin kiss the top of her head! Her toes barely touched the ground as they walked.

Pippin made a mental note to address the “Mr. Pippin” issue later.

“Grandpa, grandpa!” Gelly shouted, running out of the Thain’s tent. “Uncle Everard sent a message for you--and for Mum, too!”

Inside the tent, Paladin puzzled over what sort of message this could be. “We have visitors from Long Cleeve,” Paladin finally spoke.

Pimpernel blanched, remembering the letter she had sent days ago. Her knees suddenly grew weak. “Gelly,” her voice barely audible, “help your mum to sit down.” Gelly wondered at this, but he willingly helped his mother to sit down. Pimpernel sat trembling as her father perused the message his scribe sent. Everyone waited in silence while Paladin read the contents, then pass the letter on to his daughter.

“What is it?” Pippin asked, stepping closer to Pimpernel to read over her shoulder. Pim read all that she needed to then gave it to her brother.

“I’ve gone and made a complete mess of things,” Pim moaned, holding her head in her hands.

Pippin took the time to fully read it. “Let me have a moment alone with her, please,” he asked his father.

“All right, Pip,” Paladin replied. “For a few minutes. We will wait for you in the carriage.”

Diamond thought Pippin wanted to be alone with his sister, so she proceeded to pick up her doll and other bits and pieces in her arms--among them was a huge stuffed rabbit Pippin had won for her at the Ring-Toss game. When she walked by Pippin he gently stopped her. “I need to speak with you a moment,” he said sombrely.

“I thought you needed to speak with Mrs. Brownfield,” she replied.

“No…please sit here,” he said, setting out two chairs to face one another. He helped her to set down the doll, rabbit--and the bag of sweets that he also purchased for her. Pippin took her hands in his own. Just earlier today, they were in this same position, but revealing their feelings for one another. All of that seemed an age ago now. “Diamond…your mother is demanding your return to Long Cleeve. Remember the letter my sister sent?”

“I knew my mother would do this,” Diamond interrupted angrily, the old fire rising again. “She can’t make me go home.”

“She has a good argument, Diamond,” Pippin answered. “You’re not of age yet, so you still belong to her.”

“I have never belonged to my mother,” Diamond retorted.

For a long moment, many things came to Pippin’s mind; why the tween had been so eager to leave her family far behind at such a young age--never becoming homesick. The remark he nearly missed a few minutes ago about her living with her uncle… Pippin spoke softy, “It appears the both of us need to have a very long talk. Seems I’m not the only one with a shaded past.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m not going home,” she said firmly, wiping it away.

Pippin reached inside the pouch on his belt, handing his lovely lady his pocket-handkerchief. “And this time--I am not letting go without a fight. I will fight for you, Diamond.”

TBC