The writing has been a bit slow lately, but since I’ve got several chapters already written, the writer’s block will hopefully be out of the way before it becomes an obstacle. Happy reading!
Grey Wonderer – Thanks!
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A Light In Dark Places – Chapter VI
“And t-then, Father, I felt s-something – something s-slippery fall on me f-from above!” Pervinca shrieked with tears in her eyes, “I d-don’t know what it w-was, but I looked u-up, and I s-saw him in the w-window!” She pointed at Pippin as she said this. “And h-he and Fosco were – t-they were laughing at m-me, Father! They p-put that thing in m-my bed!” She collapsed in a mess of tears, her head in her hands.
Paladin looked upon his daughter with sympathetic eyes – but more than that, Pippin could sense that he was annoyed that this problem had been brought to him at all. “And what was it that he put in your bed, Pervinca?”
She sniffled, composing herself before she spoke. “I d-don’t know, but it w-was slimy, a-and icky! It r-ran away before I c-could see, and it w-was dark in the r-room!”
“Very well,” he said, nodding, “You may leave – I’ll deal with your brother.” Pervinca, nodding, exited the room, passing by Pippin on her way out – it happened almost too quickly for him to see, but he could just barely tell the hint of a devious smile on her features.
Paladin did not speak immediately, instead stood from his armchair, making his way to the bookshelves that lined the walls of his study. “Peregrin,” he said in a calm voice, “You can’t act this way – throwing creatures into your sister’s bed and other acts of mischief. Someday, son, you must grow up – for someday I will not be here to discipline you, and when you are Thain you will be called on to make important decisions.”
“Father, I –”
“I don’t want to hear any apologies, for I know they will not be honest, coming from you,” he said, taking a book off the shelf. He thumbed through its pages before turning back to Pippin. “Do you know what this is?”
Pippin stole a glance at the title. “A Collective Census of The Shire: 1200-1300,” he read, “Suppose it’s a listing of those alive during those years, I guess.”
“Of which is included your grandfather, Adalgrim, who was Thain before myself. The book I hold now, Peregrin, is one of the most important in the Shire’s history, and this is only one copy of it that exists – there are others, of course, stored in Michel Delving and in the hands of the lesser leaders of the Shire – Saradoc Brandybuck, among others. This is important to our future, you see, because if we forget our past, if we forget where we came from, we will never know where we are going – we must learn from the past to survive the future.”
“And – what exactly does that mean?” Pippin asked.
“It means we must learn form the past, and from our mistakes – I will not punish you for this deed, Peregrin, if you apologize to your sister. But I do not want to hear of any more shenanigans from you – learn from this and other examples.”
Pippin nodded. “Yes, Father,” he said, and stood to leave. Opening the door, he made to exit, but looked back – his father was standing before the desk, now poring over the documents and ledgers that lay upon it. Business that he would someday have to tend to.
He closed the door behind him, and stood in the hallway for some time before making his way to his own room. He met Pervinca, whose face now bore no trace that she had been crying at all.
“So what do you have to do? Do the family laundry for a whole month? Wash all the dishes from dinner and supper?” she said with a devious tone.
Pippin sighed. “I’m sorry, Pervinca, for the grief and embarrassment I have caused you,” he said, his voice as steady as he could make it, which was enough to anger his sister.
“How dare you!” she shrieked, “He only made you apologize?”
“No,” Pippin said solemnly, “I did it out of the goodness of my own heart.” He smiled a bright smile for her. “Can’t we be friends, Pervinca, as brother and sister should be?”
She scoffed at his request, and scurried away from him – he saw her look back, an expression of distaste upon her features, and smiled to himself, content that he had fully annoyed her.
“So where did you go?” a calm, feminine voice said, from where he did not know. He looked around at his surroundings – there was only one doorway open to a room, his, and it was quite empty.
“Pardon?” he said to the stranger, looking around – in the corner of his eye he saw he flash of movement, and looked to see a young lass step out of the shadows he could have sworn to have seen nothing in before.
He recognized her face, though not her voice – that certain voice was a foreign thing to him, a foreign thing to most hobbits. “Diamond, right?” The lass nodded, her serene green eyes gazing into his own, ones of lightest blue. “Where did I go? Well, I was just in my father’s study, something to do with –”
“Putting a frog in your sister’s bed, I know all that. I meant, where did you and the others go? There were four of you, and you went – away, for some time. I know not where, and that is why I am asking.”
“Oh, that. Well,” he said, weighing his words carefully, sighing.
“You are not ready to tell?”
“Not all of it – let it suffice that we went away, naïve of where and how long we’d be gone. We were called away – perhaps it was our duty, as it was the duty of many others as well, to go where we had gone, and to not return, as we were lucky enough to do so.”
“It pains you to say this. You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he said, “But I feel you understand, for some reason.”
“I will try to, if that is your wish.”
“Diamond – I have not seen you around. Though I know you and your family haven’t been here long, little more than a day – I remember, you often avoid others, myself included usually.”
“Not you specifically – just general socialization as a whole. But I have spent most of the day in the library, which I must commend you for – it has a splendid selection.”
“You like books, then?”
“Yes, but I believe you already knew that.”
“From somewhere, perhaps – you, your face stuck in a book. It’s a familiar picture to me.” She smiled, perhaps the first time he had seen her do so. “How old are you?” he queried, “You’ve probably told me at some point, but I can’t seem to remember it.”
“I have told you, but I don’t mind repeating myself – I’m still a tweenager, due to turn twenty-five in April. Why do you ask?”
“You seem much older than that, or at least wiser.”
“Perhaps it’s merely a result of all the books I’ve read – my brother, who is thirty-five, has not read nearly as much as I have, filling his head only with what he learns by doing – which is not a bad way to learn, if it is one’s wish to work for the rest of their life.”
“Perhaps,” Pippin said, nodding, and making to leave, said, “So, I suppose I’ll –”
“See me around? Yes, I suppose you shall.”
“Well, I’ll definitely know where to find you,” he said, and retreated through the hallway, leaving her along.
“Just as I’ll know where to find you,” she said.