3

The Journey Away

The darkness and the steady clopping of Blaze's hooves had been comforting and Pippin had soon slowed his pony to a walk. He was really in no hurry. When the sun rose it found Pippin relaxed and enjoying the long quiet ride. He had ridden on the dirt path that ran from Crickhollow to Newbury, then on the road that ran from Newbury to where it met the East Road just outside the Shire near the Brandywine Bridge. It was now midday and a choice had to be made. He could turn east, away from the Shire, and head for Minas Tirith. He could go west, into the Shire, but to some area away from either Buckland, Tuckborough or Hobbiton. He needed time to think so he decided he and Blaze could use some lunch. He unbridled Blaze and took the food he had packed for himself out of his backpack. He sat with a clear view of the road in both directions, his back against a tree and his legs stretched out in front of him. For quite awhile he sat looking first to the east then to the west and then back again, with each turn of his head he was weighing a different option. What finally settled the debate was not anything he had expected; it was his own legs and feet.

He had worn an old pair of breeches, braces, shirt and waistcoat instead of his livery. The only evidence of his travels was his Elven cloak with it's brooch resting on top of his scarf. While looking up and down the road he had, for no real reason, stopped and looked down at his outstretched legs. Legs encased in short hobbit breeches with a hobbit's unshod, hair topped feet sticking out the bottoms. He stared at them. For a long time he'd worn only his uniform, time that only his feet looked hobbitish. He'd chosen to look and act like the Knight of Gondor he had become, not the gentlehobbit he was by birth. Pippin closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rough bark of the tree. Had he lost sight of who he was? He was seeking a hobbit lass who wanted to know him, but did he know himself anymore? Opening his eyes he looked again at his legs and feet. Yes. Hobbit legs. Hobbit feet. Could he find his answers in Minas Tirith, in a place where they had only seen four hobbits in the whole of their existence?

Pippin gazed down the road as far as he could to the east. No. There were no answers for him there. A warm welcome, yes. He knew he need never have doubt of his welcome in the White City. But he wouldn’t feel right about the honor the people of the city would give him. Pippin closed his eyes, again resting his head against the tree. Right now, he knew he had not been behaving as his King would expect him to as a Knight of the Realm and his representative to the Hobbits of the Shire. Somehow, though it had never been discussed, he knew Strider had not crossed the bounds of propriety in his long courtship with Arwen. “Why,” Pippin asked himself with a heavy sigh, “have I not been able to do the same? Strider would see through me in a moment.” He knew his old friend would not love him any less, but he knew that, like Merry, Strider would not be pleased.

He looked again to the west, to the Shire, and his heart stirred with the thought that this was his homeland. If he was going to change, if he was going to learn to not be such a moonstruck, love-befuddled fool, this was where that growing and learning would have to happen. "The Shire is your home Peregrin Took." He said aloud to himself. "You're a hobbit and the only place that can help you is where hobbits live, the little land that we've made our own." He stood up, walked over to Blaze and patted him on the neck. "Well lad, I know where we're going now." He bridled the pony, took a drink out of his water bottle, then mounted up and turned to the left, toward the Brandywine Bridge and the Shire.

It wasn't a short trip. He headed west on the East Road to Whitfurrows, entering the town only long enough to send a Quick Post message to Merry telling him that he was staying in the Shire and heading northwards. Then it would be north to Scary where the road turned west through Brockenborings. Pippin went slowly through this area where Fredegar had led his rebellion against the Ruffians. Somehow, it was good for him to remember what his people had lived through while he was gone. He found strength in remembering their courage. He went to Quarry, and he spent the nights in caves and old mines that the rebel hobbits had used.

Eventually, Pippin met the Oatbarton-Greenfields road that ran north from the Great East Road between Bywater and Frogmorton. He would take it to Oatbarton in the North Farthing then follow the lesser roads and trails that cut across country to Long Cleeve. As much as he could he stayed away from the towns, entering them only when he needed to replenish his supplies. In Oatbarton he did stay at the Barley Reapers Inn. It had too good a reputation for their food and ale for him to miss it, that and he was feeling the need for a bath. Otherwise, if anyone asked, he said he was staying in the next town or with friends out on farms but he actually slept in the fields and forests under the stars. He wanted as little interference with his journey as possible. He didn't want a lot of fussing over one of the Travellers, or the heir to the Thain, being in town. He wanted . . . he needed . . . to be alone.

Pippin was heading for the North Farthing where there lived a branch of the Took family. The North-tooks were distant cousins and saw the Tooks only on special family occasions or at the Hobbiton Fair in the summer, perhaps twice or thrice a year. They did acknowledge the authority of the Took and Thain as head of the Took clan throughout the Shire and they knew Peregrin was heir to those titles but, with being rather removed from Tuckborough, he hoped they would be less apt to make a fuss over him than the Tooks in the West Farthing.

His Gondorian livery would remain packed away and he had brought but one suit of clothes for dressy occasions. His plan was to downplay his position in the family and ignore as much as possible his position in the wider realm of Gondor. If he could be viewed as “our cousin Pippin, much removed but kin none the less” it would be to his advantage. Finally, after several days, he was nearing Long Cleeve, both a village and a large farm that were home to the largest concentration of North-tooks in the North Farthing. Here, Pippin had decided, he would stay for awhile. The Wayside Inn had a good reputation and he planned to make it his home during his stay in Long Cleeve.

He could see the town in the distance when he was suddenly thrown off balance and nearly unseated. Blaze, wild with panic, was nearly flying and heading off the road into the fields. Pippin regained his balance and gripped tighter with his legs to keep his seat. He had pulled in the reins until his hands were tight against Blaze's neck and still the terrified pony ran.

The fields rushed by and a line of trees was rapidly growing ahead of them. Blaze was lathering and sweat ran down Pippin's face and into his eyes blurring his vision. They were heading for a gap in the tree line. Pippin could barely see as they gained the trees. Suddenly he was off the pony and in the air.

Blaze had seen the ravine and pulled up short of going over the edge but, with his vision impaired, Pippin hadn't been so fortunate. He didn't hear himself scream, he didn't feel himself hit the slope and roll to the bottom, it all happened too fast.

Blaze stood trembling and still a bit wild eyed at the edge of the hill. The spot on his flank where the wasp had stung him was starting to swell. He needed to hear his master's comforting voice, but Pippin lay unconscious at the bottom of the ravine.

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Diamond walked slowly through the fragrant field. The last cutting of lavender was in bloom and she was gathering the purple spikes of flowers. She would be drying them to use in the fancy, tiny pillows and pouches that she made and sold for ladies to freshen their linen cupboards and wardrobes. They were a part of her sewing that she truly enjoyed, not as much a 'job' as the garments she made as a seamstress. She could make the pillows and pouches as frilly and fine as she wanted with no worry of following the desires of a client, though sometimes she had orders for ones that were monogrammed . They sold well as her embroidery work was exquisite and few ladies could resist the fragrance of lavender.

She enjoyed these trips to the field. It gave her time away from the smial of Long Cleeve and her brothers and sisters. Time for quiet and time to think. Time to dream the dreams that had helped her through the hard years after her mother had died. Dreams that helped her still. In her mind she was currently at a dance being swept around the dance floor by a handsome young gentlehobbit. She was dressed in the finest gown and her hair shown in the light of the party lanterns that hung in abundance over the dancers. She closed her eyes and the music in her mind floated along while she and her partner floated with it.

A piercing scream intruded into her pleasant thoughts. She opened her eyes just in time to see the figure of someone hitting the ground and rolling down the slope of South-Border Ravine. A pony was silhouetted on the brow of the hill. What had happened was plain. Diamond dropped the basket of lavender, pulled up her skirts and ran to where she had seen the rider land.

The rider was barely to be seen amongst the bramble, the cloak he wore blended with the sticks and leaves but a shaft of sunlight touched the golden brown hair on his head causing it to shine. He lay face down, nearly in the small stream that flowed at the bottom of the slope. Diamond knelt beside him and felt at his neck for a pulse. It was strong though a bit unsteady. At least he wasn't dead. She felt along his arms and legs for any obvious breaks and found none so she rolled him over onto his back. She gasped. Blood flowed down his face from a gash on his forehead; and the face was Peregrin Took's.

Diamond shook off her shock at seeing Pippin's face. She had an injured hobbit to care for, she would ponder what Peregrin Took was doing at Long Cleeve after she had tended to his wound. Pulling off her apron, she began to tear it into pieces. One long strip, a small square and two larger squares. She dipped one of the larger squares into the cool clear water of the little stream. Gently Diamond began to wash the blood and debris from the ragged wound on the right side of Peregrin's forehead. He jerked at the touch of the cold wet cloth and groaned a bit as she cleaned the gash, but his eyes remained closed. She folded the smallest square of cotton from her apron yet smaller and placed it on the wound, then took the strip and carefully wrapped it around his head twice to hold the small square snugly in place.

After tying off the strip of cloth she wet the other large square of cloth and began to clean Peregrin's bloodied face, tending first to a scrape on his left cheek. Her mind drifted back to the realm of her dreams. In how many of those dreams had he been the young gentlehobbit that had swept her up and danced away with her?

She sighed.

In most of them.

No, nearly all of them.

Peregrin Took had been her distant dream. The one hobbit lad she knew with certainty could never be hers, making him safe to dream about. Diamond studied the quiet face as she cleaned the blood from his hairline, his eyebrow and lashes, cheek bone, cheek, nose, his chin and lips. She gently traced the edge of his lips with her finger. She had done this often in her dreams and was surprised at how the sensation on her finger tip was the same in reality. Without realizing it she had started to bend slowly forward bringing her face closer to his. She surely would have kissed him but at that moment his eyes opened.

Pippin had been aware of things since jerking into consciousness at the touch of the cold wet cloth on his forehead. The flashes of pain as his wound was cleaned only brought him closer to wakefulness but he had kept his eyes closed to ease the woozy feeling in his head. Pippin had smelled the sweet scent of lavender and figured that his benefactor was female. He had almost opened his eyes at that point to see who she was but decided he would let her continue her anonymous ministrations. The painful tending to the tear in his skin gave way to the soothing feeling of her cleaning his face. When soothing gave way to arousing as she gently touched his lips, he knew the time had come to open his eyes. He wasn't expecting to feel that way from the tender touch of a stranger's hand.

Diamond and Peregrin stared at each other mere seconds before Diamond withdrew her eyes and straightened up, her neck and face turning crimson.

"Diamond?" His voice didn't sound like his own, it was too deep in his throat and his ears felt like they often did when he had a cold. Coughing a little he cleared his throat. "It is you, isn't it?"

"Yes." Her answer was so soft he barely heard her.

"How did I get here? Do you know?"

"You fell from your pony." Her voice was firmer now but she still looked down at her fingers playing nervously with the wet piece of torn apron. "He is still there," she pointed almost directly above them, "and hasn’t moved."

Pippin painstakingly sat up. Dizziness filled his head and a nauseous feeling rose in his throat. He swallowed hard. "Is there some way to get him down here? I'm not sure I could climb this right now." He looked at the steep drop he had fallen down and then looked at Diamond. "And what are you doing here in the middle of nowhere?"

"It's not 'nowhere'." She finally looked at him and grinned shyly. "This ravine marks the southern border of the farm of Long Cleeve, my family's holding here. I was picking lavender in the field, yonder." Her head nodded in the direction of the field to the north. "I can go east just a short ways and the ridge drops low enough to climb. I can fetch him for you." Without further words she left to get the pony.

Pippin drew his knees up and leaned his forehead on them only to twitch away quickly as the slight touch inflicted sharp pain. He tried placing his left cheek on his knee instead but the result was the same and placing his hand to his face he felt the scrape that was starting to scab over along his cheekbone. The deep breath Pippin drew ended in a gasp as pain ran down his left side. He flopped over onto his right side nearly fainting and gasping in small breaths. This was much worse than he had thought when he was lying quietly on his back.

Diamond found Peregrin curled up on his side and unconscious, his right hand clutching the ends of the scarf he wore. She stood there a few moments, holding Blaze's reins tightly, then gave a sharp little nod of her head affirming the decision she made. Untying the bed roll from the saddle, she tucked the blanket firmly around Pippin, then looked around for the right sized rock for her needs. Finding one, she used it get up to where she could get a foot into the stirrup then hauled herself into the saddle. She was scared to death. She had ridden a pony only twice in her life and she remembered them as half the height of Blaze. Normally, she walked everywhere or rode in a buggy or wagon. Diamond shortened the reins and tapped the pony in the ribs. He startled a bit then calmly started walking.

She feared going any faster, yet she was anxious at leaving Peregrin lying alone and injured at the ravine. Diamond hoped her brother, Isengrim, was still at work in the north wheat field as it was much closer than the smial. Her relief made her smile as she rode through the gap in the hedgerow and saw her brother only a short distance away.

"Isengrim!"

He heard the shout and looked up. Diamond was on the largest pony he had ever seen. He ran to meet her.

"Sister, wherever did . . ."

"Isengrim, you have to get help! He's badly hurt. He's unconscious. He hit his head!" Diamonds words rushed over him in confusion.

"Diamond, Diamond slow down. Who's hurt?"

"Peregrin. He fell." She drew a hard quick breath. "He fell from his pony, this pony, down South-Border Ravine." She slid off Blaze and ran the few steps into Isengrim's arms. The self control Diamond had while tending to Peregrin was gone, replaced by the fear she felt. She sobbed heavily into her brother's shoulder.

"Peregrin? We know no . . ." Isengrim stopped as his blood ran suddenly cold. He pushed Diamond back to look her in the eyes. "Peregrin Took? Surely not Peregrin Took, Diamond? Why would he be here at Long Cleeve?"

"I don't know, but it is him." Her look and tone were pleading. "We have to get him home and the send for the healer. I couldn't get him home myself, I had to leave him there, Isengrim. He's still there, alone. I had to leave him."

Isengrim pulled his sister close and began to rub her back. He spoke softly and slowly. "You did what you had to, Diamond." He thought for a few moments. "Can you walk back to where he is?" Her head nodded a 'yes' against his shoulder. "Then give me a leg up onto this pony and I'll ride for home while you start back. I'll hitch up the wagon and take our farm lane to the west end of the ravine then across following Clearbranch stream. Should that bring me to him, Diamond?" She looked up and nodded again. "All right then, help me up."

"Send Adde or Bandy to town for the healer." Diamond said as she gave Isengrim a leg-up into the saddle.

"I will." Isengrim gathered up the reins but paused before setting off. "We'll get him seen to, Diamond, he will be all right." He turned Blaze and with a hard kick set off at a canter, much to Diamond's amazement, then she turned and hurried back through the gap in the hedgerow.