(no subject)
TITLE: “The History of Us, Stormbringer: Chapter 11”
AUTHOR: Daisy Gamgee
AUTHOR’S EMAIL: daisygamgee@yahoo.com
AUTHOR’S WEBSITE: http://www.daisygamgee.com
PAIRING: Merry/Pippin
RATING: Ehhh. PG-ish, assuming I don’t get a C&D for using the rating.
PART: 11/11
ARCHIVE: http://www.daisygamgee.com
WARNINGS: SCHMOOP. Pure, unadulterated, unapologetic SCHMOOP. Well, okay, not so much schmoop in this one.
DISCLAIMERS: I don’t own these characters. They belong to Tolkien Enterprises. I just take them out of the box and play with them sometimes.
SUMMARY: Mr Postman, look and see if there’s a letter in your bag for me…
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This takes place in Shire Reckoning year 1431, nearly 12 years after the War of the Ring, and about three months after the birth of Pippin’s son Faramir.
This is the last chapter of "Stormbringer." Chapter 1 of "Stormbringer" is here. Chapter 2 is here. Chapter 3 is here Chapter 4 is here. Chapter 5 is here. Chapter 6 is here. Chapter 7 is here. Chapter 8 is here. Chapter 9 is here. Chapter 10 is here.
“The History of Us: Stormbringer, Chapter 11”
By Daisy Gamgee
A burbling sound awoke him, and then he felt a soft but insistent thumping to his chest. He cautiously opened an eyelid, and his gaze was met by that of tiny blue eyes; the thumping was the kicking of small begowned feet. “Good morning, pumpkin,” he said around a yawn, then softly touched the baby’s cheek, smiling as Faramir rooted toward his fingers. “No breakfast yet for you, eh? How did you get in here, noodle, did you walk?” He laid an arm around the baby in a protective half-circle. “Your diaper’s been changed, at least. What shall we do today, then?” The baby’s burbling in response made him chuckle. “You’ll be a talker. Just like your Da and Auntie Nel.” He offered Faramir a finger to hold; the baby promptly pulled the finger to his mouth to suck. “Oh, dear. We need to be about getting you some milk.”
“Merry! Merry, could you open the door, please?”
“And here’s your father, who seems to have forgotten how to work a doorknob.” Merry scooped the baby up in his left arm and stood. “I’m coming.” He opened the door to find Pippin laden with a full tray. “Oh. I take it back, bug, he still has his hands, after all. Good morning, Pippin.” Merry smiled and stepped back to allow Pippin entry. “I see a bottle, baby. Mayhap it’s for you.”
Pippin set the tray on the dresser with gentle clattering of crockery, and turned to Merry with a smile. “Kiss me.” He collected his kiss, then another, then shooed Merry back to the bed. “Breakfast in bed this morning, for all of us.” He waited until Merry had settled on the bed, baby in arms, and set the tray on the end of the duvet, then carefully climbed onto the bed next to Merry. “Here, give me the baby, and you can eat.”
“Why don’t you eat, Pip, I’ve got him. Oh, now,” Merry objected as Pippin took the infant from him. “All right, then, but let me feed you a bit.”
“I’m fine, love, you go ahead. I don’t want to get my breakfast in Faramir’s face.” Pippin took the bottle from the tray, prompting Faramir to kick and coo and reach toward it; he guided the nipple to the eager mouth, and the baby sucked with a loud grunt. “Gracious, you’re a hungry boy.” He smiled up at Merry. “And you? How is your breakfast?”
Merry smiled in return. “I’m a hungry boy, as well,” he answered, showing his half-eaten roll. “Do you want a bite? I feel awkward eating when you’re not.”
“No, no, I can wait. I’ve gotten used to feeding the baby first. Then often as not he’ll go back to sleep and I can eat in peace.” Pippin watched the baby for a moment and frowned. “And here we all are having breakfast as a family, like the last three years never happened.” He looked back at Merry with a wry smile. “A week ago I wouldn’t have thought this possible.”
“A week ago it wasn’t,” Merry answered easily, then shrugged. “We’ve surely both learned how utterly the world can change in a week.” He returned his attentions to his plate, and when he didn’t get a reply he looked up.
Pippin’s hair was a curtain, hiding his eyes as he gazed at his son.; the baby’s fingers explored his father’s face, and Pippin kissed the fingertips.
Merry, unable to resist, reached a hand to touch the auburn curls, soft as the finest spun wool, and gently brushed it aside, tucking it behind the delicate pointed ear. Pippin looked up at him, and his eyes glimmered; he smiled weakly.
“No more tears,” Merry said, firmly but gently, running his thumb along Pippin’s cheek. “A week from now, here we’ll be. That will not change, never again. I have not wavered in my love for you, Peregrin Took, not in forty-one years, and not in the next forty-one, or forty-one thousand.” He leaned over and kissed him, tasting cinnamon and cider. “You had a snack in the kitchen before you brought me breakfast,” he accused softly.
Pippin laughed, sniffling. “I never could fool you,” he said in fond amusement. “Bella gave me a fresh roll, right from the oven.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” Merry shook his head. “You always could charm the honey away from the bees. Or, in this case, from the bear.”
“Noooo,” Pippin averred, but his cheeks flushed a light pink. “There’s one for you, too, you know.”
Merry smiled and kissed him again. “I know.” Something tickled his chin, and he looked down. “Hullo, lambkin.”
“I should turn him to the other side. Yes, poppet? Hm?” Pippin shifted the baby, pausing to pat him for a tiny burp. “All right? There you are, then.” He looked up at Merry. “You should eat before your food gets cold.”
“So should you. Why don’t you let me hold him so you can eat.” Merry picked up a sausage. “Well, after this bite.”
“Just eat, you turnip.”
So he did, and when Faramir finished his bottle with a much bigger burp, Merry took him in his arms and Pippin took the tray.
“Faramir Took, you make the biggest belch I ever heard from such a tiny hobbit,” Merry told the baby. “Still not as big a burp as your father could make, though. You’ll have to work on that.” He leaned close to the baby’s ear and mock-whispered, “When you’re old enough, I’ll teach you a trick to make it louder.”
“Eh? What trick? You never told me.” Pippin frowned around a mouthful of bacon.
“You didn’t need it. Six-foot tall guards in Minas Tirith couldn’t belch as loud as you.” Merry winked at Pippin, who scowled lightly. “Uh-oh, I do believe this baby is filling his diaper. Come on, little pooper, let’s let your Da enjoy his breakfast without this to add to the smell of fresh bread.” He leaned over to kiss Pippin on the cheek and got off the bed. “We’ll be back when this bug is smelling pretty again.”
“Love you,” Pippin managed, mouth full of cinnamon roll, and smiled as Pippin shut the door.
“Oh, my goodness, this diaper weighs more than you do.” Merry laid Faramir on the changing table and undid the drawstring at the foot of the gown. “Ah, gracious me, but this is nasty.” He made the change as quickly as he could.
The baby lay cooing and kicking in the cradle as Merry washed his hands in the bowl, grateful for the small ball of fragrant soap that Bella had supplied. He was also grateful that she’d thought to set up a bucket with a good lid for the dirty diapers, as well, and was genuinely sorry that she’d have to launder them, especially after this one.
“Well, good morning, my darlings,” Esmeralda greeted him. “And how are you?” She stepped into the room and smiled down into the cradle. “What a beautiful sight. Although not such a beautiful smell. You’ve just made a rather unpleasant nappy, haven’t you?”
“Horrid,” Merry said cheerfully, drying his hands. “How are you this morning, Mum?” He kissed her cheek. “Pippin’s finishing his breakfast.”
“We’ve each of us had a letter from Paladin this morning, and I thought we could gather in the sitting room and read them.”
“Ahhhh. I was rather wondering when he’d catch up to us. I’m surprised he’s not here himself, given his usual pattern when Pippin runs off.” He winked at his mother and scooped the baby up from the cradle. “You’re looking sleepy, little plum.”
“Given that Pippin has only run off to you once, and with you once, I suppose so, if you could call it a pattern. But Peregrin was underage then. He’s his own gentlehobbit now, and Paladin may just be catching up on family news, after all.”
Merry snorted. “Mum. Really.” He sat in the rocking chair and realized anew how long his legs were, compared to the first time he’d held a small child in this chair. That small child was now, of course, this child’s father. Merry smiled down at Faramir and set the chair rocking. “His idea of family news is my idea of a tavern brawl.”
“Ah, well. I’m sure you’re right. I do try to hope my brother gets more reasonable as he ages, but that seems to be out of the question.” Esmeralda leaned down and kissed Merry’s forehead. “We’ll see you both in the sitting room, then?”
“Well, after we’re dressed. Otherwise you’ll see entirely too much of us in the sitting room.” Merry suffered the gentle cuff to his head with a smile.
** ** **
Bella volunteered to mind the children so that the adults could gather, as she phrased it, “without the little ones tangling the tassels.” Merry very nearly asked her what in the world that meant, but she seemed so happy with a baby in one arm and a bouncing, chatting Ruby holding her hand that he merely smiled and watched as Bella nearly skipped down the hall.
“All right, my darlings,” Esmeralda sighed. She sat in the chair next to Saradoc, he in his usual armchair nearest the fire, and sorted out a bundle of letters in her hand, giving them around to their proper addressees. “The lad who brought the post was most curious, Bella tells me, but was easily put off all the same.”
“She probably scared him away,” Merry said, turning the envelope over in his hands. Paladin’s strong handwriting nearly blared at him from the paper, and the wax seal was splattered a bit, as thought the sealer had applied more than the usual force with the signet. “Or the letters did, although for once I don’t think he steamed these open.”
“Merry,” Esmeralda scolded with a frown, then held her own letter up to examine it. “Let’s get these over with, then, shall we?”
Merry looked at Pippin, whose jaw was set in a grim line. Then he took a full breath and worked the wax seal open, taking out two blue sheets of paper. He unfolded them and read.
Meriadoc Brandybuck,
I sincerely hope for the good of everyone concerned that you are not entertaining the foolish notion of resuming your previous misguided and iniquitous involvement with my son and heir, Peregrin Took. You must understand that you would be threatening his position in his family and the Shire by so doing. If you truly do love him, as you seem to believe that you do, you will turn him away, and send him back to his family and duties where he rightfully belongs.
You dishonour the memory of Peregrin’s beloved wife and mother of his now-motherless child by behaving as though she was merely an expedience. You know that their marriage was true, and not a sham and pretense as your misbegotten relationship with him was.
Merry paused, waiting for the rushing sound in his head to subside before he read on.
You must see that it would be just, honorable, and best for you to send Peregrin back to his only rightful place and true family. Doing otherwise will force me to sever family ties with you, my sister your mother, and my son, and to press for guardianship of my grandson Faramir Took. I demand a reply by return post stating that you have humbly complied.
Paladin Took
“Well,” Merry said to the room, “at least he didn’t sign it ‘With love, your devoted Uncle.’” He folded the paper, tucked it back into the envelope, and looked up.
Esmeralda frowned grimly, Pimpernel had turned a slightly rosy shade of white, Saradoc looked sardonically amused, and Pippin was a carefully contained red-faced fury.
“My brother is a most difficult hobbit,” Esmeralda announced darkly, and looked at Merry, who nodded calmly.
“My father,” Pippin said with a curl of his lip at the word, “is a contemptible tyrant.” His voice was deep, deliberate, and strong, and all eyes went to him. “His demands are ridiculous, his threats are toothless, and his words are inexcusable from a father to a son.” He looked at Merry. “Or from an uncle to a nephew. Father to a daughter, Nel? Yes? Aunt Esmy? Uncle?” He nodded, tight-lipped, his hands gripping the arms of his chair with white knuckles. “I’m sorry I’ve put you all through this.”
“You didn’t do this, Pippin,” Nel said, and tossed her letter onto the small table next to her. “Da can’t do a blessed thing against you, and he knows that full well, threats or no.” She frowned, then looked at Saradoc. “He can’t, can he?”
Saradoc shook his head. “Paladin can, of course, disown anyone he wishes. But he can’t take that baby from you, Peregrin, without your clearly neglecting or abusing that child.” He chuckled and took his pipe from his pocket. “And I don’t think I’ve seen a baby who was less neglected or misused as your one.”
“It was inexcusable of him to use Diamond’s memory like this,” Nel ventured softly; her voice quavered, just a bit. “I’ve thought many unhappy and ungenerous things of Da over the years, I have to admit. But I never, ever thought he’d stoop to this.”
“He hides behind his false moral certitude to get what he wants.” Pippin hit the arm of his chair with a restrained force. He took a very deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. “Merry, I said I’d not leave you ever again, and I mean to hold to that. But I won’t blame you, or yours, if you decide you’d not want me here, rather than drive a wall between all of you and my benighted father.”
“Pippin, don’t be absurd,” Merry said firmly. “I’m not afraid of Uncle Paladin, and I’ve certainly weathered worse. So have you.” He looked at his parents, who nodded. “We’re with you. This is your home, as well, and your son’s home, and you’ll not leave until and unless you wish to.”
“Not without you, Merry. Never again.” Pippin smiled, eyes, gleaming, then turned his attention to Pimpernel. “What of you, Nel?”
She smiled and shrugged. “I’d already planned to stay for a bit, after all, and I don’t live in the Smials with him. Da can’t win this, or he’ll run our lives down to the hour.” She held up her letter, frowned at it, then ripped it neatly in half and tossed it into the cheerfully crackling fire. “I think I’ll write to Mosco, though, so he knows what’s going on.”
“That’s a good idea, dear.” Esmeralda frowned at the letter in her hand. “I shouldn’t dignify this with a response, but I’m going to. Dinny’s not the only one with a few demands to make.”
Saradoc leaned forward and carefully and accurately threw his letter into the flames. "I’ll leave that to you, then, Esmy. You’re a better wordsmith than I, by far.”
Pippin crushed the letter he held in his fist, but didn’t discard it. “Merry, did he insult you?” He looked at Merry with a concerned frown.
“Queerly enough, Pip, he didn’t. Or at least not too terribly.” Merry handed the envelope to him. “You may read it, if you wish.”
Pippin rubbed his forehead, then opened the envelope and read the letter, his mouth set in a grim line; when he’d finished, he carefully refolded it and returned the envelope to Merry. Then he stood, straight and erect, and Merry was reminded of a certain son of Gondor who’d stood tall as a mountain between them and certain death. “I believe I shall take some air.” Merry began to rise to accompany him; Pippin looked at him, and his expression spoke for him. Merry sat and watched as he left the room.
“Shouldn’t you go with him?”
Merry shook his head and took his pipe from his pocket. “Not yet.” He filled the pipe, and accepted a match from his father. “He needs a moment without feeling as though he needs to explain himself.”
“Well. That’s s change for our Peregrin, mm?”
Merry smiled at his father. “Our Peregrin is a knight of Minas Tirith, after all, which I think Uncle Paladin would be wise to remember.” He puffed and stretched his legs, feeling once again constrained by the chair, and reflected for the tenth time that morning that everything in this house was too short for him. “I haven’t ever seen him this angry without a sword in his hand, come to think of it.” He frowned, wondering absently about those years he’d missed.
“Gracious,” Esmeralda sighed, and stood. “I have no sword, but I certainly do have a pen, and I mean to draw blood with it.” Her brow furrowed. “I knew he’d not be pleased with Peregrin’s coming here to reconcile, but this…” She waved the letter. “He’ll get his own back, from me, at least.”
“I’ll sign whatever you write, love,” Saradoc told her, and stood as well. “What d’you supposed is for elevenses?”
“Does it matter? You’ll eat it all the same.” Esmeralda managed a forbearing smile for her husband. “Mayhap there’s some gooseberry tart left. Come on, let’s go see.” She kissed Merry’s forehead and ruffled his hair, and she and Saradoc left the room hand in hand.
“I’d best get a letter to Mosco before the afternoon post.” Nel said. “It’ll be a luxury to write without a curious toddler hanging on my arm.” She winked at Merry. “You’ll find that out soon enough.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Merry told her, and squeezed her proffered hand as she left the room.
He forced himself to finish his pipe without rushing, and to carefully tamp it out and clean it before returning it to his pocket. Then he strolled past the parlor where Bella was contentedly minding the young ones (and rather well, he admitted grudgingly to himself), past his mother’s study where she was determinedly bent over her letter, and through the kitchen where he helped himself to a small cup of fresh milk. Then he rinsed the cup, dried his hands, and pushed open the door to the back garden.
Pippin stood with his back to the Hall, gazing over the yet-dormant garden, still as a statue. Merry watched him in silence for a moment, taking in the straight back and knightly bearing. This was certainly not the mooncalf lad Merry had fallen in love with so many, many years ago-this was the mature gentlehobbit and good father that that lad had grown into, the fulfilled promise of that early eager boy, manifest. Merry loved him so fiercely in that moment that he had to bite his lip to keep from gasping aloud.
He did clear his throat gently, though, so as not to startle, and laid a hand on Pippin’s shoulder. They stood together in silence for a moment, then Pippin wound an arm around Merry’s waist and pulled him into an embrace.
“I love my father, Merry, I do.” Pippin’s voice was strong and full. “But there is no question that my life is with you. If he cannot accept this, then I cannot accept him.” He pulled back to meet Merry’s gaze; whatever he saw there made him smile. “I’m well and truly content to just be the husband of the future Master of Buckland.”
“And I stand here, the husband of the future Thain,” Merry answered. “There’s no reason that that should change.”
“Hmmph. Well. I mean to tell the current Thain than he may feel free to disown his son and heir and grant the Thainship to his eldest daughter, who has always wanted it, if he cannot find a way to welcome you as my partner in all things.” He raised an eyebrow. “And not just in mischief.”
“We could still manage a bit of that, all the same,” Merry said, and kissed Pippin with a gentle bite to the lower lip. “My letter will be a polite, respectful version of ‘Get stuffed,’ because I’m absolutely not letting you get away from me again.” Another kiss sealed it, and they smiled together in happy agreement. “I do love you, Peregrin Took, future Thain or no.”
“I love you something fierce,” Pippin answered, then leaned over and growled into Merry’s ear. “I’ll show you later.”
Merry chuckled, suddenly warm to his toes, despite the cool spring breeze. “Come on, you wild boy, let’s go get these letters written while Bella is still keeping the baby amused.”
“You have to admit, she has a way with the littlest ones.” Pippin took Merry’s hand and led him toward the Hall.
“Only because she has so much in common with them, what with her being half-sized and half-witted. Ow! Pip! Whose side are you on?”
** ** **
AUTHOR: Daisy Gamgee
AUTHOR’S EMAIL: daisygamgee@yahoo.com
AUTHOR’S WEBSITE: http://www.daisygamgee.com
PAIRING: Merry/Pippin
RATING: Ehhh. PG-ish, assuming I don’t get a C&D for using the rating.
PART: 11/11
ARCHIVE: http://www.daisygamgee.com
WARNINGS: SCHMOOP. Pure, unadulterated, unapologetic SCHMOOP. Well, okay, not so much schmoop in this one.
DISCLAIMERS: I don’t own these characters. They belong to Tolkien Enterprises. I just take them out of the box and play with them sometimes.
SUMMARY: Mr Postman, look and see if there’s a letter in your bag for me…
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This takes place in Shire Reckoning year 1431, nearly 12 years after the War of the Ring, and about three months after the birth of Pippin’s son Faramir.
This is the last chapter of "Stormbringer." Chapter 1 of "Stormbringer" is here. Chapter 2 is here. Chapter 3 is here Chapter 4 is here. Chapter 5 is here. Chapter 6 is here. Chapter 7 is here. Chapter 8 is here. Chapter 9 is here. Chapter 10 is here.
“The History of Us: Stormbringer, Chapter 11”
By Daisy Gamgee
A burbling sound awoke him, and then he felt a soft but insistent thumping to his chest. He cautiously opened an eyelid, and his gaze was met by that of tiny blue eyes; the thumping was the kicking of small begowned feet. “Good morning, pumpkin,” he said around a yawn, then softly touched the baby’s cheek, smiling as Faramir rooted toward his fingers. “No breakfast yet for you, eh? How did you get in here, noodle, did you walk?” He laid an arm around the baby in a protective half-circle. “Your diaper’s been changed, at least. What shall we do today, then?” The baby’s burbling in response made him chuckle. “You’ll be a talker. Just like your Da and Auntie Nel.” He offered Faramir a finger to hold; the baby promptly pulled the finger to his mouth to suck. “Oh, dear. We need to be about getting you some milk.”
“Merry! Merry, could you open the door, please?”
“And here’s your father, who seems to have forgotten how to work a doorknob.” Merry scooped the baby up in his left arm and stood. “I’m coming.” He opened the door to find Pippin laden with a full tray. “Oh. I take it back, bug, he still has his hands, after all. Good morning, Pippin.” Merry smiled and stepped back to allow Pippin entry. “I see a bottle, baby. Mayhap it’s for you.”
Pippin set the tray on the dresser with gentle clattering of crockery, and turned to Merry with a smile. “Kiss me.” He collected his kiss, then another, then shooed Merry back to the bed. “Breakfast in bed this morning, for all of us.” He waited until Merry had settled on the bed, baby in arms, and set the tray on the end of the duvet, then carefully climbed onto the bed next to Merry. “Here, give me the baby, and you can eat.”
“Why don’t you eat, Pip, I’ve got him. Oh, now,” Merry objected as Pippin took the infant from him. “All right, then, but let me feed you a bit.”
“I’m fine, love, you go ahead. I don’t want to get my breakfast in Faramir’s face.” Pippin took the bottle from the tray, prompting Faramir to kick and coo and reach toward it; he guided the nipple to the eager mouth, and the baby sucked with a loud grunt. “Gracious, you’re a hungry boy.” He smiled up at Merry. “And you? How is your breakfast?”
Merry smiled in return. “I’m a hungry boy, as well,” he answered, showing his half-eaten roll. “Do you want a bite? I feel awkward eating when you’re not.”
“No, no, I can wait. I’ve gotten used to feeding the baby first. Then often as not he’ll go back to sleep and I can eat in peace.” Pippin watched the baby for a moment and frowned. “And here we all are having breakfast as a family, like the last three years never happened.” He looked back at Merry with a wry smile. “A week ago I wouldn’t have thought this possible.”
“A week ago it wasn’t,” Merry answered easily, then shrugged. “We’ve surely both learned how utterly the world can change in a week.” He returned his attentions to his plate, and when he didn’t get a reply he looked up.
Pippin’s hair was a curtain, hiding his eyes as he gazed at his son.; the baby’s fingers explored his father’s face, and Pippin kissed the fingertips.
Merry, unable to resist, reached a hand to touch the auburn curls, soft as the finest spun wool, and gently brushed it aside, tucking it behind the delicate pointed ear. Pippin looked up at him, and his eyes glimmered; he smiled weakly.
“No more tears,” Merry said, firmly but gently, running his thumb along Pippin’s cheek. “A week from now, here we’ll be. That will not change, never again. I have not wavered in my love for you, Peregrin Took, not in forty-one years, and not in the next forty-one, or forty-one thousand.” He leaned over and kissed him, tasting cinnamon and cider. “You had a snack in the kitchen before you brought me breakfast,” he accused softly.
Pippin laughed, sniffling. “I never could fool you,” he said in fond amusement. “Bella gave me a fresh roll, right from the oven.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” Merry shook his head. “You always could charm the honey away from the bees. Or, in this case, from the bear.”
“Noooo,” Pippin averred, but his cheeks flushed a light pink. “There’s one for you, too, you know.”
Merry smiled and kissed him again. “I know.” Something tickled his chin, and he looked down. “Hullo, lambkin.”
“I should turn him to the other side. Yes, poppet? Hm?” Pippin shifted the baby, pausing to pat him for a tiny burp. “All right? There you are, then.” He looked up at Merry. “You should eat before your food gets cold.”
“So should you. Why don’t you let me hold him so you can eat.” Merry picked up a sausage. “Well, after this bite.”
“Just eat, you turnip.”
So he did, and when Faramir finished his bottle with a much bigger burp, Merry took him in his arms and Pippin took the tray.
“Faramir Took, you make the biggest belch I ever heard from such a tiny hobbit,” Merry told the baby. “Still not as big a burp as your father could make, though. You’ll have to work on that.” He leaned close to the baby’s ear and mock-whispered, “When you’re old enough, I’ll teach you a trick to make it louder.”
“Eh? What trick? You never told me.” Pippin frowned around a mouthful of bacon.
“You didn’t need it. Six-foot tall guards in Minas Tirith couldn’t belch as loud as you.” Merry winked at Pippin, who scowled lightly. “Uh-oh, I do believe this baby is filling his diaper. Come on, little pooper, let’s let your Da enjoy his breakfast without this to add to the smell of fresh bread.” He leaned over to kiss Pippin on the cheek and got off the bed. “We’ll be back when this bug is smelling pretty again.”
“Love you,” Pippin managed, mouth full of cinnamon roll, and smiled as Pippin shut the door.
“Oh, my goodness, this diaper weighs more than you do.” Merry laid Faramir on the changing table and undid the drawstring at the foot of the gown. “Ah, gracious me, but this is nasty.” He made the change as quickly as he could.
The baby lay cooing and kicking in the cradle as Merry washed his hands in the bowl, grateful for the small ball of fragrant soap that Bella had supplied. He was also grateful that she’d thought to set up a bucket with a good lid for the dirty diapers, as well, and was genuinely sorry that she’d have to launder them, especially after this one.
“Well, good morning, my darlings,” Esmeralda greeted him. “And how are you?” She stepped into the room and smiled down into the cradle. “What a beautiful sight. Although not such a beautiful smell. You’ve just made a rather unpleasant nappy, haven’t you?”
“Horrid,” Merry said cheerfully, drying his hands. “How are you this morning, Mum?” He kissed her cheek. “Pippin’s finishing his breakfast.”
“We’ve each of us had a letter from Paladin this morning, and I thought we could gather in the sitting room and read them.”
“Ahhhh. I was rather wondering when he’d catch up to us. I’m surprised he’s not here himself, given his usual pattern when Pippin runs off.” He winked at his mother and scooped the baby up from the cradle. “You’re looking sleepy, little plum.”
“Given that Pippin has only run off to you once, and with you once, I suppose so, if you could call it a pattern. But Peregrin was underage then. He’s his own gentlehobbit now, and Paladin may just be catching up on family news, after all.”
Merry snorted. “Mum. Really.” He sat in the rocking chair and realized anew how long his legs were, compared to the first time he’d held a small child in this chair. That small child was now, of course, this child’s father. Merry smiled down at Faramir and set the chair rocking. “His idea of family news is my idea of a tavern brawl.”
“Ah, well. I’m sure you’re right. I do try to hope my brother gets more reasonable as he ages, but that seems to be out of the question.” Esmeralda leaned down and kissed Merry’s forehead. “We’ll see you both in the sitting room, then?”
“Well, after we’re dressed. Otherwise you’ll see entirely too much of us in the sitting room.” Merry suffered the gentle cuff to his head with a smile.
** ** **
Bella volunteered to mind the children so that the adults could gather, as she phrased it, “without the little ones tangling the tassels.” Merry very nearly asked her what in the world that meant, but she seemed so happy with a baby in one arm and a bouncing, chatting Ruby holding her hand that he merely smiled and watched as Bella nearly skipped down the hall.
“All right, my darlings,” Esmeralda sighed. She sat in the chair next to Saradoc, he in his usual armchair nearest the fire, and sorted out a bundle of letters in her hand, giving them around to their proper addressees. “The lad who brought the post was most curious, Bella tells me, but was easily put off all the same.”
“She probably scared him away,” Merry said, turning the envelope over in his hands. Paladin’s strong handwriting nearly blared at him from the paper, and the wax seal was splattered a bit, as thought the sealer had applied more than the usual force with the signet. “Or the letters did, although for once I don’t think he steamed these open.”
“Merry,” Esmeralda scolded with a frown, then held her own letter up to examine it. “Let’s get these over with, then, shall we?”
Merry looked at Pippin, whose jaw was set in a grim line. Then he took a full breath and worked the wax seal open, taking out two blue sheets of paper. He unfolded them and read.
Meriadoc Brandybuck,
I sincerely hope for the good of everyone concerned that you are not entertaining the foolish notion of resuming your previous misguided and iniquitous involvement with my son and heir, Peregrin Took. You must understand that you would be threatening his position in his family and the Shire by so doing. If you truly do love him, as you seem to believe that you do, you will turn him away, and send him back to his family and duties where he rightfully belongs.
You dishonour the memory of Peregrin’s beloved wife and mother of his now-motherless child by behaving as though she was merely an expedience. You know that their marriage was true, and not a sham and pretense as your misbegotten relationship with him was.
Merry paused, waiting for the rushing sound in his head to subside before he read on.
You must see that it would be just, honorable, and best for you to send Peregrin back to his only rightful place and true family. Doing otherwise will force me to sever family ties with you, my sister your mother, and my son, and to press for guardianship of my grandson Faramir Took. I demand a reply by return post stating that you have humbly complied.
Paladin Took
“Well,” Merry said to the room, “at least he didn’t sign it ‘With love, your devoted Uncle.’” He folded the paper, tucked it back into the envelope, and looked up.
Esmeralda frowned grimly, Pimpernel had turned a slightly rosy shade of white, Saradoc looked sardonically amused, and Pippin was a carefully contained red-faced fury.
“My brother is a most difficult hobbit,” Esmeralda announced darkly, and looked at Merry, who nodded calmly.
“My father,” Pippin said with a curl of his lip at the word, “is a contemptible tyrant.” His voice was deep, deliberate, and strong, and all eyes went to him. “His demands are ridiculous, his threats are toothless, and his words are inexcusable from a father to a son.” He looked at Merry. “Or from an uncle to a nephew. Father to a daughter, Nel? Yes? Aunt Esmy? Uncle?” He nodded, tight-lipped, his hands gripping the arms of his chair with white knuckles. “I’m sorry I’ve put you all through this.”
“You didn’t do this, Pippin,” Nel said, and tossed her letter onto the small table next to her. “Da can’t do a blessed thing against you, and he knows that full well, threats or no.” She frowned, then looked at Saradoc. “He can’t, can he?”
Saradoc shook his head. “Paladin can, of course, disown anyone he wishes. But he can’t take that baby from you, Peregrin, without your clearly neglecting or abusing that child.” He chuckled and took his pipe from his pocket. “And I don’t think I’ve seen a baby who was less neglected or misused as your one.”
“It was inexcusable of him to use Diamond’s memory like this,” Nel ventured softly; her voice quavered, just a bit. “I’ve thought many unhappy and ungenerous things of Da over the years, I have to admit. But I never, ever thought he’d stoop to this.”
“He hides behind his false moral certitude to get what he wants.” Pippin hit the arm of his chair with a restrained force. He took a very deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. “Merry, I said I’d not leave you ever again, and I mean to hold to that. But I won’t blame you, or yours, if you decide you’d not want me here, rather than drive a wall between all of you and my benighted father.”
“Pippin, don’t be absurd,” Merry said firmly. “I’m not afraid of Uncle Paladin, and I’ve certainly weathered worse. So have you.” He looked at his parents, who nodded. “We’re with you. This is your home, as well, and your son’s home, and you’ll not leave until and unless you wish to.”
“Not without you, Merry. Never again.” Pippin smiled, eyes, gleaming, then turned his attention to Pimpernel. “What of you, Nel?”
She smiled and shrugged. “I’d already planned to stay for a bit, after all, and I don’t live in the Smials with him. Da can’t win this, or he’ll run our lives down to the hour.” She held up her letter, frowned at it, then ripped it neatly in half and tossed it into the cheerfully crackling fire. “I think I’ll write to Mosco, though, so he knows what’s going on.”
“That’s a good idea, dear.” Esmeralda frowned at the letter in her hand. “I shouldn’t dignify this with a response, but I’m going to. Dinny’s not the only one with a few demands to make.”
Saradoc leaned forward and carefully and accurately threw his letter into the flames. "I’ll leave that to you, then, Esmy. You’re a better wordsmith than I, by far.”
Pippin crushed the letter he held in his fist, but didn’t discard it. “Merry, did he insult you?” He looked at Merry with a concerned frown.
“Queerly enough, Pip, he didn’t. Or at least not too terribly.” Merry handed the envelope to him. “You may read it, if you wish.”
Pippin rubbed his forehead, then opened the envelope and read the letter, his mouth set in a grim line; when he’d finished, he carefully refolded it and returned the envelope to Merry. Then he stood, straight and erect, and Merry was reminded of a certain son of Gondor who’d stood tall as a mountain between them and certain death. “I believe I shall take some air.” Merry began to rise to accompany him; Pippin looked at him, and his expression spoke for him. Merry sat and watched as he left the room.
“Shouldn’t you go with him?”
Merry shook his head and took his pipe from his pocket. “Not yet.” He filled the pipe, and accepted a match from his father. “He needs a moment without feeling as though he needs to explain himself.”
“Well. That’s s change for our Peregrin, mm?”
Merry smiled at his father. “Our Peregrin is a knight of Minas Tirith, after all, which I think Uncle Paladin would be wise to remember.” He puffed and stretched his legs, feeling once again constrained by the chair, and reflected for the tenth time that morning that everything in this house was too short for him. “I haven’t ever seen him this angry without a sword in his hand, come to think of it.” He frowned, wondering absently about those years he’d missed.
“Gracious,” Esmeralda sighed, and stood. “I have no sword, but I certainly do have a pen, and I mean to draw blood with it.” Her brow furrowed. “I knew he’d not be pleased with Peregrin’s coming here to reconcile, but this…” She waved the letter. “He’ll get his own back, from me, at least.”
“I’ll sign whatever you write, love,” Saradoc told her, and stood as well. “What d’you supposed is for elevenses?”
“Does it matter? You’ll eat it all the same.” Esmeralda managed a forbearing smile for her husband. “Mayhap there’s some gooseberry tart left. Come on, let’s go see.” She kissed Merry’s forehead and ruffled his hair, and she and Saradoc left the room hand in hand.
“I’d best get a letter to Mosco before the afternoon post.” Nel said. “It’ll be a luxury to write without a curious toddler hanging on my arm.” She winked at Merry. “You’ll find that out soon enough.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Merry told her, and squeezed her proffered hand as she left the room.
He forced himself to finish his pipe without rushing, and to carefully tamp it out and clean it before returning it to his pocket. Then he strolled past the parlor where Bella was contentedly minding the young ones (and rather well, he admitted grudgingly to himself), past his mother’s study where she was determinedly bent over her letter, and through the kitchen where he helped himself to a small cup of fresh milk. Then he rinsed the cup, dried his hands, and pushed open the door to the back garden.
Pippin stood with his back to the Hall, gazing over the yet-dormant garden, still as a statue. Merry watched him in silence for a moment, taking in the straight back and knightly bearing. This was certainly not the mooncalf lad Merry had fallen in love with so many, many years ago-this was the mature gentlehobbit and good father that that lad had grown into, the fulfilled promise of that early eager boy, manifest. Merry loved him so fiercely in that moment that he had to bite his lip to keep from gasping aloud.
He did clear his throat gently, though, so as not to startle, and laid a hand on Pippin’s shoulder. They stood together in silence for a moment, then Pippin wound an arm around Merry’s waist and pulled him into an embrace.
“I love my father, Merry, I do.” Pippin’s voice was strong and full. “But there is no question that my life is with you. If he cannot accept this, then I cannot accept him.” He pulled back to meet Merry’s gaze; whatever he saw there made him smile. “I’m well and truly content to just be the husband of the future Master of Buckland.”
“And I stand here, the husband of the future Thain,” Merry answered. “There’s no reason that that should change.”
“Hmmph. Well. I mean to tell the current Thain than he may feel free to disown his son and heir and grant the Thainship to his eldest daughter, who has always wanted it, if he cannot find a way to welcome you as my partner in all things.” He raised an eyebrow. “And not just in mischief.”
“We could still manage a bit of that, all the same,” Merry said, and kissed Pippin with a gentle bite to the lower lip. “My letter will be a polite, respectful version of ‘Get stuffed,’ because I’m absolutely not letting you get away from me again.” Another kiss sealed it, and they smiled together in happy agreement. “I do love you, Peregrin Took, future Thain or no.”
“I love you something fierce,” Pippin answered, then leaned over and growled into Merry’s ear. “I’ll show you later.”
Merry chuckled, suddenly warm to his toes, despite the cool spring breeze. “Come on, you wild boy, let’s go get these letters written while Bella is still keeping the baby amused.”
“You have to admit, she has a way with the littlest ones.” Pippin took Merry’s hand and led him toward the Hall.
“Only because she has so much in common with them, what with her being half-sized and half-witted. Ow! Pip! Whose side are you on?”
** ** **