Hello again! It’s been a while since my last update, so Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hopefully it won’t be after next Christmas before I update again.
Grey Wonderer – Well, as we know he does eventually become interested in marriage, according to the good Professor – but I think there’s such as difference between the Pippin in the book (and the movie as well) and the Pippin that I think Diamond would marry. So a change does need to occur there, which will pretty much be the whole of my story. A very insightful comment. Thanks!
Larner – True. Basically the same thing I said above, a change has to occur sometime. Thanks!
<><><><><>
A Light In Dark Places – Chapter IX
Pippin and Fosco lay crouched in the tall grass, wet with late October dew – a few yards in front on them sat a group of hobbit lasses: Pervinca, Amethyst and Garnet. Their cousin Everard Took sat some distance from them, acting as lookout to make sure that the girls did not become aware of the fiendish plot.
Though Pippin had been warned many times in the previous weeks not to bother his sisters or his cousins, the day had revealed a chance too good to pass up, as the three lay out in the fading autumn atmosphere, enjoying a simple picnic before the North-tooks returned home that next day. And as it had been the plan of the two lads to play their best prank on them near to the end of the visit, today was as good as any for such a prank.
“When Everard nods at us, we strike,” Fosco whispered in Pippin’s ears.
“And when they start screaming, we must make sure we’re nowhere in sight – there’s a tree with wide, spreading branches near to the Smials, not too far from here – we can climb up that and hide,” Pippin whispered back.
Slowly, they inched forward – gripped in their hands were three small bundles wrapped in cheesecloth. Whatever was within them stank highly, and Pippin feared that they would be detected by the rank stench – moisture was also leaking through the packaging onto his hand, making them slippery. The prank would have to be done soon, or not at all.
“Come on, Ev – give us a sign,” Fosco hissed nervously. The two lads were barely able to see their unsuspecting prey through the tall grass, which was why they had Everard playing lookout for them – he gazed over at the lasses, looked to Pippin and Fosco hidden in the rushes and softly nodded. The motion was barely visible, but just enough so that Pippin and Fosco knew the timing was right.
“Now!” they both said at once, and leaping out of the grass suddenly they hurled their projectiles at the unsuspecting lasses. All of a sudden a great commotion went up, as several things happened at once – Everard, hearing the cry of the attackers, immediately ran for cover, and was gone before anyone had known that he was even there to start with – Pippin and Fosco, as soon as they had leapt from their hiding place, had flung the stinking bundles at the lasses and ran in the opposite direction. This action was done so quick that they did not have time to see if their targets had been hit at all, having so little time to even aim in the first place. Their aim was perfect, though, as the three lasses who sat on the soft grass enjoying an early morning picnic were suddenly pelted with gobs of rotten fruit – apples, peaches and pears rained down on them, every one stinking and wet, and they shrieked with disgust and fury.
“Peregrin Took!” Pervinca shouted at the top of her voice, though no one answered her call – she looked around angrily for his thin figure, but found no trace of him. No grinning face was hanging out of the windows of the nearby Smials – instead, the faces that gazed out held expressions of surprise, and for some laughter, as the inhabitants of the hole looked on the scene.
“I’ll get him for this! Father’s going to be so mad at him! If he doesn’t kill him, I’ll do it myself!” she shrieked, stamping up and down upon the ground, her feet sounding a particularly squishy echo – rotten fruit now littered the ground around them, and Garnet, making to raise herself from the ground, slipped on the squishy mess and landed on her bottom with a thud.
The ones who were the cause of the muddled chaos were currently watching the scene from a safe distance, in the safety of a leafy tree with widespread branches that safely hid them from view – Pippin and Fosco, giggling with delight, waited until such a time that it was safe to leave their hiding place.
“We can’t be seen for a while, you know,” Fosco said through his mirth, “They’ll have it out with us – they know we did it, or at least that you did it.”
“I know a place where we can hide for the day, where no one will find us – look, I think they’re leaving.” And indeed, as Pippin looked through the foliage of the tree he could see his sister and cousins racing to the hole, where they assumed their attackers had gone and hidden themselves. Once they were certain that all persons were absent from the site, they inched their way out of the tree and onto the ground.
“So where is this place of yours – is it far?” Fosco said as he followed Pippin, who rushed headlong around the side of the Smials and to the front door – they did not enter the hole, however, as Pippin lead him down the dirt road that lead away from the hole and to the village of Tuckborough. After running along the road for nearly fifteen minutes, the village came within site.
“What, is your hiding place in the village? Because that’s not very secret if you ask me,” Fosco said, now out of breath, “Can we slow down yet?”
“Yes, we can slow down a bit,” Pippin said, and Fosco immediately stopped, falling down on his bottom in the middle of the road. Pippin sighed at his cousin. “It’s not in the village, where we’re going – there, over that way.” Fosco looked over to where Pippin now pointed – in the spreading valley below them a wide expanse of forest lay stretched out. All Fosco could see for miles was green trees, hit by the autumn sunlight.
“Down there? That’s your hiding place, the forest?” he said, still breathless.
“In the forest, specifically, but yes, down there is where it is,” Pippin said, and standing up, “Come on, we’ve still far to go.”
“Still?” Fosco stood, his muscles aching, and began to traverse the steep hill below him that sloped into the valley.
“Whoa, you don’t want to go that way,” Pippin spoke suddenly, catching Fosco by the collar of his shirt and pulling him back, “Look,” he said, pointing. Fosco gazed down the steep hill, and noticed that at one point it suddenly dropped off into a deep and seemingly bottomless ravine. He leaned over so as to see better – in the darkness below, he saw a great mess of tangled thorns.
“I pity the one so unlucky as to fall in that mess,” Pippin said, “Come on, I know a safer way down.” He led Fosco to the top of a more gently sloping hill, green and soft. “Merry and I would often roll down this hill – but we can walk, if you prefer.” It was much more easygoing than Fosco imagined the other hill would have been, and they were soon in the quiet tranquility of the dimly lit forest.
“We’re almost there, just a little further,” Pippin spoke with confidence. Fosco followed him on a winding path around and between trees, a path that often doubled back on itself.
“Merry and I feared being followed, so we would go this way to throw off anyone who might do so – I can’t remember any other path to get to the place anymore.” It took nearly half an hour to travel Pippin’s confusing path through the forest, before he finally stopped before a widespread yew with low-lying branches – the tree bore nothing out of the ordinary, except that in the bark of it was thrust an old, rusted weathervane, the top of which it bore a tarnished rooster, its beak shaped so that it looked to be permanently crowing.
“This is it?” Fosco said, surprised, “A tree house? That’s your hiding place?”
“You never had one?”
“Yeah, when I was seven – but that was years ago, Pip.”
“Yeah, but, this one,” he said with a wink, “This one is special. I mean you can’t tell it’s there, can you?”
Fosco looked up through the leaves. “No, I can’t – but it’s not that hard to conceal, really.”
“Well, there’s a reason for that,” he said, walking the distance around the tree until he reached a seemingly specific spot.
“You’re making less and less sense as you go along, cousin,” Fosco said with eyebrows raised.
Pippin only smiled. “You know why you couldn’t see a tree house from here?” Fosco shook his head in answer to Pippin’s question. In response, however, he made he felt around with his hands near to the base of the tree, where its roots came up and tangled like bony brown fingers. Searching through the weeds that lined the edge of the tree, he pulled back a particularly thick wad of grass, revealing a large hole in the earth below, through which Fosco could see steps carved into the dirt, leading down into the darkness.
“The reason you couldn’t see a tree house is because it’s not a tree house at all.”