A birthday gift
Today is illyria_novia's birthday. She told me that her friends won't be able to visit her, due to the public traffic disaster caused by George Bush's visit in Indonesia. She won't even be able to go online. Ah well... she will have to wait another day to see her present. *sighs*
This is a tale from the Mistress on the Hill-universe that began with Five things that never happened to Lily Proudfoot. Novia made me write it; her imagination always strikes sparks in mine, and though this often keeps me from doing other (and rather important) things, I love her for the infectuous joy she's been sharing with me ever since we first met online.
This, my friend, is for you. *hugs you close*
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For Novia who gave me the idea, a precious friend, an enormously talented writer, a wonderfully inspiring woman. Happy birthday, my friend!
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Advice
By Cúthalion
December 1426, shortly before Yule
“Frodo?”
Peregrin Took and Frodo Baggins sat in the smallest parlor of Bag End, warmed by a blazing fire, full stomachs and a bottle of Gondorean muscatel. The wine sparkled golden in the glass goblets, pipe smoke hung in aromatic billows under the low ceiling, and Rosie had just served a plate of candied fruits and cookies. The two hobbits were just “filling the corners”, and in this satisfied, decidedly male atmosphere Peregrin felt relaxed enough to bring up the a matter that had been occupying his mind and heart for several weeks.
“Frodo?”
“Hmm…?”
Frodo turned his head. He had been looking out of the window, swirling the wine in his goblet and following the soundless dance of the snowflakes outside with heavy-lidded eyes. Pippin watched him, touched again by the same wonder he’d felt for the first time when Frodo announced that he would marry, four years earlier. He looks happy, he thought, noticing the increasing number of silver streaks in the dark curls of the elder hobbit. Older, perhaps… but happy, too. He took a deep breath.
“I would like to tell you something.”
“And what might that be, Pip?”
Pippin cleared his throat, not sure how to say it.
“So difficult?” Frodo smiled, raising his glass in a silent toast. “Don’t worry… there’s no one outside trying to eavesdrop on us.” The smile faded as he noted the anxious, determined expression on Pippin’s face. And I bet I’m pale as chalk, Pippin thought miserably, the next thing he will ask is if I’m ill.
“Whatever it is, you obviously need more wine to come out with it.” Frodo took the goblet from his hand and reached for the bottle. Pippin’s eye was fixed on the hand with the missing finger, and he saw the firelight glinting on the golden band Frodo wore directly beside the scarred gap. Not that one, of course. He remembered the spring morning when Lily Proudfoot had slipped the simple wedding ring on Frodo’s finger and kissed the old wound reverently. Somehow the memory gave him the courage he urgently needed.
“I am going to take a wife.” he blurted out.
The bottleneck clinked against the goblet, but Frodo re-filled it with a steady hand before he gave it back.
“Congratulations.” he said quietly. “Who is the lucky one?”
Pippin stared at him open-mouthed, then he leaned back into his overstuffed chair and laughed.
“Frodo, you…” He shook his head. „I would have expected anything - from ‘You’re much to young to take a wife, lad’ to ‘Is it really necessary to marry her when you can have all the fun without---“
He broke off, turning bright red.
“N-no,” he stammered, “you wouldn’t have said that, I suppose.”
“You are right, I wouldn’t.” Frodo retorted calmly, a strange light in his eyes. “That is what others said about me.”
Pippin shook his head, the flush of embarrassment replaced by one of honest anger.
“No single Took in the Great Smials would have dared to ---“ he snapped, eyes ablaze.
Frodo laughed, raising his hand.
“You are really young, lad,” he replied. “and I am pretty sure that you won’t be able to judge every single heart in that enormous beehive that is your home smial. Anyway - these were mostly people from Hobbiton who knew nothing more about Lily than what was obvious: she was a midwife of slender means, there were no relatives that could support her, and I am a rather wealthy hobbit. Some thought that she sneaked into my bed to sweet-talk me out of my money.”
“Lily would never do such a thing!” Pippin stated with utter conviction.
“Very gallant of you,” Frodo answered, bowing slightly. “And very true.” He took a long sip from his goblet. “Would you mind telling me now who the lass is you want to marry?”
“Diamond,” Pippin replied, his gaze never leaving Frodo’s face. “Diamond of Long-Cleeve.” His cousin kept silent, and he added “From the North-Tooks.”
“I don’t know if I remember her,” Frodo said slowly. “It has been quite a long time since I saw my relatives there. What does she look like?”
Pippin looked into the fireplace, following the flickering flames with his eyes while he was thinking.
“A beautiful face, like a ripe apple,” he finally said, “gray eyes with long lashes, like a cloudy day in autumn, and a full mouth, always ready to smile. Long hair, shining like dark honey, a beautiful body that I long to touch day and night --- and she actually loves me.” A smile hovered around his lips, and he felt warmth rise in his heart. “She loves me.”
“I think I would like to meet her, and soon.” Frodo remarked, his eyes twinkling. Pippin felt his cheeks grow hot again.
“I will make my proposal during the big Yule party in the Great-Smials*,” he said. “That should make it official enough.”
His cousin chuckled, slowly re-filling his own goblet.
“I would give a lot to witness this,” he said, “for I have the distinct feeling that you didn’t shout it from the rooftops yet. Do your parents have any idea of your plans? Or Merry?”
Pippin shook his head, biting his lip.
“Not even Merry?” Frodo whistled through his teeth. “My dear Peregrin, I am honored by your confidence. What about your bride? Do you intend to surprise her, too?”
Pippin felt his stomach turn to a twisted knot. “Do you think I shouldn’t do that?” he asked nervously. “Do you think I should speak to her first?”
Frodo leaned back, stretching comfortably in his spacious chair.
“I’m certain that you know her heart better than I do,” he said, a tiny smile sparkling in his eyes. “Do you think she’s likely to faint - or to rip your head off?”
Pippin recalled the warm, sunny day when he and Diamond had stood face to face, the hayfork between them… and the moment when his lips touched hers and everything in his personal universe wondrously slid into place. **
“No,” he said, his tone emphatic and confident. “Neither one nor the other. She will forgive me if I catch her on the hop… she knows that I want her for my wife anyway.”
“Congratulations again,” Frodo replied. He got up, walked over to the round window and opened it. A gust of fresh, icy air swept in and made the candles flicker. Pippin hauled himself out of his chair, slightly dizzy from a luxurious dinner and three glasses of wine, and went to stand beside his cousin. The snowfall had stopped, a strong wind had driven away the clouds, and the sky arched over the Hill like a cupola of deep black velvet, strewn with blazing jewels and crowned by the pale lamp of a full moon. A thin blanket of snow covered meadows, hedges and paths. As the two hobbits gazed out, a small cart drew near, coming to a halt in front of the garden gate. Pippin felt how Frodo beside him straightened his back.
“Lily’s coming home,” he said. “She has spent the whole day in the Cornflower smial, to help Violet Cornflower deliver her twins. She must be exhausted. Would you excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Pippin was left alone in the parlor. He closed the window and the curtains and put a few logs of apple wood on the fire, stoking the dying embers to new, roaring life. Soft voices came from the next room. The door was ajar, and without thinking Pippin opened it a little bit further and peered out.
The entrance hall was nearly dark, save the orange glow from the main fireplace and the yellow circle of light from a lamp in a window niche beside the green door. Pippin could see nothing but the profile of his cousin, and then his hands, raised to strip the woolen shawl from the head of his wife. He said something inaudible and then leaned in to kiss Lily. His fingers buried in long tresses, plaited to shining braids and pinned up on her head. Pippin caught himself imagining how she might look with her hair down, and felt his cheeks grow burning hot once more. Instinctively he stepped back and closed the door.
A few minutes later Frodo came back, carrying a tray with a new bottle of wine and a plate of small pastries. Pippin sniffed; a mouthwatering scent of chives, roasted onions and beef filled the air.
“Rosie made them for tomorrow’s elevenses; I thought she wouldn’t bear me a grudge if I snatched away half a dozen for you.”
“Most generous of all gentlehobbits!” Pippin grinned, took a pastry and slipped it into his mouth. The crust crunched between his teeth and the taste of the filling exploded on his tongue… it was hot, spicy and delicious. “Hmmmmm… and Rosie is a most excellent cook. Won’t Lily join us to have a late evening snack?”
“I have brought her to bed,” Frodo retorted, “she needs her sleep. “Delivering twins from a woman in her first birth bed is not only heavy labor for the mother but for the midwife, too. You will see her tomorrow.”
He opened the second bottle, giving Pippin a thoughtful side glance.
“I may be wrong,” he said, “but could it be possible that you still have something on your mind?”
“Erh…” Pippin reached for the second pastry and made short process with it. “To be precise… yes.” He swallowed, turning his gaze back to the fireplace.
“Another glass of wine to gain enough courage… or at least to loosen your tongue?”
Pippin raised his head, watching his cousin’s face. Frodo’s eyes were filled with kindness, warmth and a hint of mischief. The young hobbit took the offered goblet and nearly emptied it with a single, long gulp.
“I never thought you would marry one day,” he finally managed. “How… erh… how does it feel like?”
Frodo’s eyebrows rose and nearly vanished beneath his hairline.
“It feels excellent,” he said. “Lily is a wonderful wife.” He narrowed his eyes. “Listen, Pip… if you were afraid of proposing, you wouldn’t sit here and sing lyrical odes about your bride’s beauty. It can’t be the marriage that troubles you.”
Pippin gave a short, embarrassed laugh.
“That’s true. Not even my future mother-in-law really troubles me,” he said. “And Opal is a true dragon.”
Frodo grinned. “I guess you never had the chance to meet Violet Proudfoot, did you? She lives at the far end of Buckland - a blessing for which I thank the Valar every day anew. So, if it is not the marriage and not your mother-in-law…”
He frowned, suddenly seeking Pippin’s eyes as if his secret dilemma finally dawned on him. And then Peregrin Took had the rare experience of seeing the Master of Bag End struggle with a full-blown blush. Frodo took a deep breath and leaned in, closing both hands around his freshly filled goblet as if seeking for support.
“Pippin,” he said, his tone slightly sharp, “you don’t actually want me to inform you about the… ahm… the facts of life, do you?” He shook his head as if at a momentary loss for words. “It certainly can’t be that I’m sitting here with a true male virgin!”
Pippins cheeks were the perfect match for his cousin’s glowing face. “Of course not!” he snapped, desperately waiting for the floor to open and swallow him. “There were a few lasses here and there, before the quest…”
Frodo cleared his throat.
“Aside from your reputation as the adventurous heir of the Thain and Knight of the legendary King of Men, I heard a few stories… also from before the quest. There was a damsel in Tuckborough, I believe, a certain Buttercup…”
“Buttercup Brownlock?” Pippin squealed, rocketing up in his chair. “Honestly, Frodo, I’ve never… never ever… 1417 we danced a few springlerings and there was even a very promising night in the fields, but… ah well, I’ll tell you something. Startling up the prized breeding boar of Farmer Brownlock from a nightly hunt for acorns and running for your life, a pair of red eyes and two sharp tusks behind you doesn’t leave you any ideas for further… erh… activities.”
Frodo stared at him, his face unmoving. Then he started to laugh.
“Peregrin Took,” he gasped after having regained his breath, ”you don’t want to tell me that the memory of an angry boar… no, that’s nonsense.” He swallowed another fit of giggles and did his best to sober up. “I guess you are familiar with the basic… the basic details of the matter?”
“Frodo, please.” Pippin silently counted to ten. “I’m neither a virgin nor a fool… at least not a complete fool.” He swallowed. “But this… this is different, and it is serious, and it is about the woman I love, the woman I want to wed very soon. I am afraid that I might hurt or scare her.” After a while of silence he added very softly: “It might be her very first time after all.”
Frodo looked at him, his eyes slowly filling with a new, honest respect.
“Now I understand,” he said quietly. “This is something you probably wouldn’t want to discuss with your own father.” The smile returned into his face. “Though he might surprise you; your parent’s marriage has always been a very happy one, and for good reasons.”
Pippin felt the typical uneasy twinge of every child at the sheer mentioning of its parents taking part in certain “bedroom activities”. Frodo saw the expression on his face and chuckled.
“Don’t worry, we won’t explore this any further,” he said reassuringly. “Well, lad… how can I help you? What exactly do you want to know?”
Pippin made a helpless gesture, grinning sheepishly.
“What to do…?”
Frodo raised both hands, laughing. “Oh no, Pippin, I won’t make a list what to touch when and what to say next. I will give you a more… general advice.”
He fell silent, and now it was his turn to watch the flames in the fireplace. Pippin looked at the familiar face with the dark, expressive eyes and the sensitive mouth; old pain and experience had marked that face with deep lines, but he could also see a fulfillment and silent joy that hadn’t been there in earlier years… at least not this kind of joy. Pippin had barely known anything about Lily Proudfoot before her wedding with Frodo, and he had only a vague idea of what had brought the young midwife and the famous, much older heir of Bag End together. One day he would take the time and ask both them to tell him their story… next year perhaps, after the tohuwabohu of the proposal and the wedding was over.
He felt a sudden, overwhelming rush of thankfulness that there actually was the time to ask his cousin every question he wanted. There had been moments after the quest when the fear of losing Frodo to his suffering and his agonizing memories had robbed him of his sleep. He hadn’t known about the offer the Queen of Gondor had made by giving Frodo the white jewel… Merry had told him about it, immediately after the unexpected wedding in Bag End. With astonishing clarity Pippin heard the words echoing in his mind: You are right, Pip, we barely know her, Merry had said, his face strangely grim above the collar of his best festive shirt, but we should be thankful that she was able to win - and to heal - his heart. We might just as easily have stood at the Havens, waving that elvish ship goodbye… but with Bilbo being not the only hobbit on board.
“Pippin?”
He came back to the present with a start. Frodo’s hand lay on his arm; the Master of Bag End gazed at him, a gentle question in his eyes.
“If you want my advice, you should try to listen”, he said. “It is very late, and I’m not getting any younger. A warm bed with a sleeping woman is waiting for me… a situation you’re eagerly hoping to reach, isn’t it?”
He leaned back again.
“As I said - I won’t give you a list of what to do. There is only one golden rule, one thing you should take to heart if you want to make the first night a really enjoyable thing for you both - think of her pleasure first.”
Pippin frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” Frodo said, almost impatiently. “You are a few years past your tweens now, aren’t you? You don’t have the excuse of greedy youth - at least not completely.”
A small smile, but his gaze remained very serious.
“If she accepts your proposal, you will hopefully share your bed with her for the rest of your life,” Frodo continued, “and the first night will give her a good impression what kind of husband - what kind of lover - you will probably be. Take your time… try to find out what she likes most. Listen to her… if she trusts you, she will hopefully tell you what she wants. And even if she is too shy or too nervous to speak… there are other ways to find out what pleases her. Use your hands and your mouth… and still her hunger first, not your’s. Believe me… the reward will be enormous.”
Pippin looked at him, slightly mesmerized by the warm voice and the life it seemed to promise… Diamond beside him, her body in his arms night after night, her love his strength and her smile his joy.
He was surprised to hear his own voice. “It seems to me that you know exactly what you are talking about, my dear Frodo.”
“I am more than twenty years ahead of you, in age and perhaps in experience, too,” his cousin replied. “And I have come to know the difference between mere attraction of flesh and mind and real love. It’s one thing just to yearn for a pretty lass, and something entirely different to actually bind yourself to her. Yearning and attraction was what started everything between Lily and me… but I didn’t take things seriously enough. I failed her, in more than one way, and more than once.”
Pippin gave a disbelieving sound. “You? You would surely never…”
“Oh, I would, and I did, believe me” Frodo interrupted him. “You should thank your fate that you barely had the chance to let a woman down. Our love started in winter 1417; it was a secret to everyone and Lily had to sneak into Bag End to spend time with me and to share my bed. She could have been caught, prey to the evil gossip of every single hobbit between Hobbiton and Waymeet, and I guess I have to thank it to her skills as a midwife that she never conceived… but even so she was left behind when I fled the Shire. And we were neither betrothed nor married then; her mother had taken her brothers to Buckland and her father was weak and ill… she was without any protection.”
He broke off, his face tired and pale. Old images seemed to flicker in his eyes, darkening them to a painful, dull black… but then he sighed deeply, shaking off his rigor with a visible effort.
“When I came back, she was changed - as was I.” he continued softly, “We were both wounded in heart and mind, and it took me nearly two years to rebuild what I had thrown away much too recklessly before I went on the quest. When I gave her the ring four years ago, I not only made a wedding vow. I swore to shield her, to care for everything she might need, and to honor and cherish her with both, body and soul… for the rest of my life.”
He got up from his chair and Pippin felt the touch of his hand again, fleeting and gentle.
“This is all you need to know, all you need to do.” Frodo said. “Cherish and honor her, and try to please her as good well as you can… and it will return to you a hundredfold.”
He walked over to the door. Pippin turned around.
“Hundredfold?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with a smile.
“At least a hundredfold,” Frodo replied, his eyes shining. “And more… many, many more things than you ever imagined. Good Night, dear Pip - and you should leave the rest of the bottle alone, or you will have to try one of Lily’s hangover teas tomorrow morning. They work very well, but the taste is awful.”
He closed the door and was gone. Pippin leaned back, feeling strangely peaceful… and increasingly tired. The idea of getting up from his comfortable chair, to sneak through the dark corridors to his guestroom was barely tempting, and he settled deeper into the richly stuffed cushions.
You are many, many more things than I ever imagined.
The same words Frodo had used, but the first one to say them had been Diamond, on that magical day when he kissed her for the very first time.**
Cherish and honor her.
He closed his eyes, and his head sank back. “I can barely wait…” he murmured. The goblet fell from his limp hand and rolled over the thick, woolen carpet unharmed… and from one moment to the next Peregrin Took was fast asleep, dreaming of wonders unseen and pleasures unknown, a smile on his face.
FIN
*The story of that spectacular feast is told in A Yule Proposal.
** This kiss (same as the quote from the end of this tale) are taken from Ariel’s lovely story The One.
This is a tale from the Mistress on the Hill-universe that began with Five things that never happened to Lily Proudfoot. Novia made me write it; her imagination always strikes sparks in mine, and though this often keeps me from doing other (and rather important) things, I love her for the infectuous joy she's been sharing with me ever since we first met online.
This, my friend, is for you. *hugs you close*
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For Novia who gave me the idea, a precious friend, an enormously talented writer, a wonderfully inspiring woman. Happy birthday, my friend!
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Advice
By Cúthalion
December 1426, shortly before Yule
“Frodo?”
Peregrin Took and Frodo Baggins sat in the smallest parlor of Bag End, warmed by a blazing fire, full stomachs and a bottle of Gondorean muscatel. The wine sparkled golden in the glass goblets, pipe smoke hung in aromatic billows under the low ceiling, and Rosie had just served a plate of candied fruits and cookies. The two hobbits were just “filling the corners”, and in this satisfied, decidedly male atmosphere Peregrin felt relaxed enough to bring up the a matter that had been occupying his mind and heart for several weeks.
“Frodo?”
“Hmm…?”
Frodo turned his head. He had been looking out of the window, swirling the wine in his goblet and following the soundless dance of the snowflakes outside with heavy-lidded eyes. Pippin watched him, touched again by the same wonder he’d felt for the first time when Frodo announced that he would marry, four years earlier. He looks happy, he thought, noticing the increasing number of silver streaks in the dark curls of the elder hobbit. Older, perhaps… but happy, too. He took a deep breath.
“I would like to tell you something.”
“And what might that be, Pip?”
Pippin cleared his throat, not sure how to say it.
“So difficult?” Frodo smiled, raising his glass in a silent toast. “Don’t worry… there’s no one outside trying to eavesdrop on us.” The smile faded as he noted the anxious, determined expression on Pippin’s face. And I bet I’m pale as chalk, Pippin thought miserably, the next thing he will ask is if I’m ill.
“Whatever it is, you obviously need more wine to come out with it.” Frodo took the goblet from his hand and reached for the bottle. Pippin’s eye was fixed on the hand with the missing finger, and he saw the firelight glinting on the golden band Frodo wore directly beside the scarred gap. Not that one, of course. He remembered the spring morning when Lily Proudfoot had slipped the simple wedding ring on Frodo’s finger and kissed the old wound reverently. Somehow the memory gave him the courage he urgently needed.
“I am going to take a wife.” he blurted out.
The bottleneck clinked against the goblet, but Frodo re-filled it with a steady hand before he gave it back.
“Congratulations.” he said quietly. “Who is the lucky one?”
Pippin stared at him open-mouthed, then he leaned back into his overstuffed chair and laughed.
“Frodo, you…” He shook his head. „I would have expected anything - from ‘You’re much to young to take a wife, lad’ to ‘Is it really necessary to marry her when you can have all the fun without---“
He broke off, turning bright red.
“N-no,” he stammered, “you wouldn’t have said that, I suppose.”
“You are right, I wouldn’t.” Frodo retorted calmly, a strange light in his eyes. “That is what others said about me.”
Pippin shook his head, the flush of embarrassment replaced by one of honest anger.
“No single Took in the Great Smials would have dared to ---“ he snapped, eyes ablaze.
Frodo laughed, raising his hand.
“You are really young, lad,” he replied. “and I am pretty sure that you won’t be able to judge every single heart in that enormous beehive that is your home smial. Anyway - these were mostly people from Hobbiton who knew nothing more about Lily than what was obvious: she was a midwife of slender means, there were no relatives that could support her, and I am a rather wealthy hobbit. Some thought that she sneaked into my bed to sweet-talk me out of my money.”
“Lily would never do such a thing!” Pippin stated with utter conviction.
“Very gallant of you,” Frodo answered, bowing slightly. “And very true.” He took a long sip from his goblet. “Would you mind telling me now who the lass is you want to marry?”
“Diamond,” Pippin replied, his gaze never leaving Frodo’s face. “Diamond of Long-Cleeve.” His cousin kept silent, and he added “From the North-Tooks.”
“I don’t know if I remember her,” Frodo said slowly. “It has been quite a long time since I saw my relatives there. What does she look like?”
Pippin looked into the fireplace, following the flickering flames with his eyes while he was thinking.
“A beautiful face, like a ripe apple,” he finally said, “gray eyes with long lashes, like a cloudy day in autumn, and a full mouth, always ready to smile. Long hair, shining like dark honey, a beautiful body that I long to touch day and night --- and she actually loves me.” A smile hovered around his lips, and he felt warmth rise in his heart. “She loves me.”
“I think I would like to meet her, and soon.” Frodo remarked, his eyes twinkling. Pippin felt his cheeks grow hot again.
“I will make my proposal during the big Yule party in the Great-Smials*,” he said. “That should make it official enough.”
His cousin chuckled, slowly re-filling his own goblet.
“I would give a lot to witness this,” he said, “for I have the distinct feeling that you didn’t shout it from the rooftops yet. Do your parents have any idea of your plans? Or Merry?”
Pippin shook his head, biting his lip.
“Not even Merry?” Frodo whistled through his teeth. “My dear Peregrin, I am honored by your confidence. What about your bride? Do you intend to surprise her, too?”
Pippin felt his stomach turn to a twisted knot. “Do you think I shouldn’t do that?” he asked nervously. “Do you think I should speak to her first?”
Frodo leaned back, stretching comfortably in his spacious chair.
“I’m certain that you know her heart better than I do,” he said, a tiny smile sparkling in his eyes. “Do you think she’s likely to faint - or to rip your head off?”
Pippin recalled the warm, sunny day when he and Diamond had stood face to face, the hayfork between them… and the moment when his lips touched hers and everything in his personal universe wondrously slid into place. **
“No,” he said, his tone emphatic and confident. “Neither one nor the other. She will forgive me if I catch her on the hop… she knows that I want her for my wife anyway.”
“Congratulations again,” Frodo replied. He got up, walked over to the round window and opened it. A gust of fresh, icy air swept in and made the candles flicker. Pippin hauled himself out of his chair, slightly dizzy from a luxurious dinner and three glasses of wine, and went to stand beside his cousin. The snowfall had stopped, a strong wind had driven away the clouds, and the sky arched over the Hill like a cupola of deep black velvet, strewn with blazing jewels and crowned by the pale lamp of a full moon. A thin blanket of snow covered meadows, hedges and paths. As the two hobbits gazed out, a small cart drew near, coming to a halt in front of the garden gate. Pippin felt how Frodo beside him straightened his back.
“Lily’s coming home,” he said. “She has spent the whole day in the Cornflower smial, to help Violet Cornflower deliver her twins. She must be exhausted. Would you excuse me for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Pippin was left alone in the parlor. He closed the window and the curtains and put a few logs of apple wood on the fire, stoking the dying embers to new, roaring life. Soft voices came from the next room. The door was ajar, and without thinking Pippin opened it a little bit further and peered out.
The entrance hall was nearly dark, save the orange glow from the main fireplace and the yellow circle of light from a lamp in a window niche beside the green door. Pippin could see nothing but the profile of his cousin, and then his hands, raised to strip the woolen shawl from the head of his wife. He said something inaudible and then leaned in to kiss Lily. His fingers buried in long tresses, plaited to shining braids and pinned up on her head. Pippin caught himself imagining how she might look with her hair down, and felt his cheeks grow burning hot once more. Instinctively he stepped back and closed the door.
A few minutes later Frodo came back, carrying a tray with a new bottle of wine and a plate of small pastries. Pippin sniffed; a mouthwatering scent of chives, roasted onions and beef filled the air.
“Rosie made them for tomorrow’s elevenses; I thought she wouldn’t bear me a grudge if I snatched away half a dozen for you.”
“Most generous of all gentlehobbits!” Pippin grinned, took a pastry and slipped it into his mouth. The crust crunched between his teeth and the taste of the filling exploded on his tongue… it was hot, spicy and delicious. “Hmmmmm… and Rosie is a most excellent cook. Won’t Lily join us to have a late evening snack?”
“I have brought her to bed,” Frodo retorted, “she needs her sleep. “Delivering twins from a woman in her first birth bed is not only heavy labor for the mother but for the midwife, too. You will see her tomorrow.”
He opened the second bottle, giving Pippin a thoughtful side glance.
“I may be wrong,” he said, “but could it be possible that you still have something on your mind?”
“Erh…” Pippin reached for the second pastry and made short process with it. “To be precise… yes.” He swallowed, turning his gaze back to the fireplace.
“Another glass of wine to gain enough courage… or at least to loosen your tongue?”
Pippin raised his head, watching his cousin’s face. Frodo’s eyes were filled with kindness, warmth and a hint of mischief. The young hobbit took the offered goblet and nearly emptied it with a single, long gulp.
“I never thought you would marry one day,” he finally managed. “How… erh… how does it feel like?”
Frodo’s eyebrows rose and nearly vanished beneath his hairline.
“It feels excellent,” he said. “Lily is a wonderful wife.” He narrowed his eyes. “Listen, Pip… if you were afraid of proposing, you wouldn’t sit here and sing lyrical odes about your bride’s beauty. It can’t be the marriage that troubles you.”
Pippin gave a short, embarrassed laugh.
“That’s true. Not even my future mother-in-law really troubles me,” he said. “And Opal is a true dragon.”
Frodo grinned. “I guess you never had the chance to meet Violet Proudfoot, did you? She lives at the far end of Buckland - a blessing for which I thank the Valar every day anew. So, if it is not the marriage and not your mother-in-law…”
He frowned, suddenly seeking Pippin’s eyes as if his secret dilemma finally dawned on him. And then Peregrin Took had the rare experience of seeing the Master of Bag End struggle with a full-blown blush. Frodo took a deep breath and leaned in, closing both hands around his freshly filled goblet as if seeking for support.
“Pippin,” he said, his tone slightly sharp, “you don’t actually want me to inform you about the… ahm… the facts of life, do you?” He shook his head as if at a momentary loss for words. “It certainly can’t be that I’m sitting here with a true male virgin!”
Pippins cheeks were the perfect match for his cousin’s glowing face. “Of course not!” he snapped, desperately waiting for the floor to open and swallow him. “There were a few lasses here and there, before the quest…”
Frodo cleared his throat.
“Aside from your reputation as the adventurous heir of the Thain and Knight of the legendary King of Men, I heard a few stories… also from before the quest. There was a damsel in Tuckborough, I believe, a certain Buttercup…”
“Buttercup Brownlock?” Pippin squealed, rocketing up in his chair. “Honestly, Frodo, I’ve never… never ever… 1417 we danced a few springlerings and there was even a very promising night in the fields, but… ah well, I’ll tell you something. Startling up the prized breeding boar of Farmer Brownlock from a nightly hunt for acorns and running for your life, a pair of red eyes and two sharp tusks behind you doesn’t leave you any ideas for further… erh… activities.”
Frodo stared at him, his face unmoving. Then he started to laugh.
“Peregrin Took,” he gasped after having regained his breath, ”you don’t want to tell me that the memory of an angry boar… no, that’s nonsense.” He swallowed another fit of giggles and did his best to sober up. “I guess you are familiar with the basic… the basic details of the matter?”
“Frodo, please.” Pippin silently counted to ten. “I’m neither a virgin nor a fool… at least not a complete fool.” He swallowed. “But this… this is different, and it is serious, and it is about the woman I love, the woman I want to wed very soon. I am afraid that I might hurt or scare her.” After a while of silence he added very softly: “It might be her very first time after all.”
Frodo looked at him, his eyes slowly filling with a new, honest respect.
“Now I understand,” he said quietly. “This is something you probably wouldn’t want to discuss with your own father.” The smile returned into his face. “Though he might surprise you; your parent’s marriage has always been a very happy one, and for good reasons.”
Pippin felt the typical uneasy twinge of every child at the sheer mentioning of its parents taking part in certain “bedroom activities”. Frodo saw the expression on his face and chuckled.
“Don’t worry, we won’t explore this any further,” he said reassuringly. “Well, lad… how can I help you? What exactly do you want to know?”
Pippin made a helpless gesture, grinning sheepishly.
“What to do…?”
Frodo raised both hands, laughing. “Oh no, Pippin, I won’t make a list what to touch when and what to say next. I will give you a more… general advice.”
He fell silent, and now it was his turn to watch the flames in the fireplace. Pippin looked at the familiar face with the dark, expressive eyes and the sensitive mouth; old pain and experience had marked that face with deep lines, but he could also see a fulfillment and silent joy that hadn’t been there in earlier years… at least not this kind of joy. Pippin had barely known anything about Lily Proudfoot before her wedding with Frodo, and he had only a vague idea of what had brought the young midwife and the famous, much older heir of Bag End together. One day he would take the time and ask both them to tell him their story… next year perhaps, after the tohuwabohu of the proposal and the wedding was over.
He felt a sudden, overwhelming rush of thankfulness that there actually was the time to ask his cousin every question he wanted. There had been moments after the quest when the fear of losing Frodo to his suffering and his agonizing memories had robbed him of his sleep. He hadn’t known about the offer the Queen of Gondor had made by giving Frodo the white jewel… Merry had told him about it, immediately after the unexpected wedding in Bag End. With astonishing clarity Pippin heard the words echoing in his mind: You are right, Pip, we barely know her, Merry had said, his face strangely grim above the collar of his best festive shirt, but we should be thankful that she was able to win - and to heal - his heart. We might just as easily have stood at the Havens, waving that elvish ship goodbye… but with Bilbo being not the only hobbit on board.
“Pippin?”
He came back to the present with a start. Frodo’s hand lay on his arm; the Master of Bag End gazed at him, a gentle question in his eyes.
“If you want my advice, you should try to listen”, he said. “It is very late, and I’m not getting any younger. A warm bed with a sleeping woman is waiting for me… a situation you’re eagerly hoping to reach, isn’t it?”
He leaned back again.
“As I said - I won’t give you a list of what to do. There is only one golden rule, one thing you should take to heart if you want to make the first night a really enjoyable thing for you both - think of her pleasure first.”
Pippin frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” Frodo said, almost impatiently. “You are a few years past your tweens now, aren’t you? You don’t have the excuse of greedy youth - at least not completely.”
A small smile, but his gaze remained very serious.
“If she accepts your proposal, you will hopefully share your bed with her for the rest of your life,” Frodo continued, “and the first night will give her a good impression what kind of husband - what kind of lover - you will probably be. Take your time… try to find out what she likes most. Listen to her… if she trusts you, she will hopefully tell you what she wants. And even if she is too shy or too nervous to speak… there are other ways to find out what pleases her. Use your hands and your mouth… and still her hunger first, not your’s. Believe me… the reward will be enormous.”
Pippin looked at him, slightly mesmerized by the warm voice and the life it seemed to promise… Diamond beside him, her body in his arms night after night, her love his strength and her smile his joy.
He was surprised to hear his own voice. “It seems to me that you know exactly what you are talking about, my dear Frodo.”
“I am more than twenty years ahead of you, in age and perhaps in experience, too,” his cousin replied. “And I have come to know the difference between mere attraction of flesh and mind and real love. It’s one thing just to yearn for a pretty lass, and something entirely different to actually bind yourself to her. Yearning and attraction was what started everything between Lily and me… but I didn’t take things seriously enough. I failed her, in more than one way, and more than once.”
Pippin gave a disbelieving sound. “You? You would surely never…”
“Oh, I would, and I did, believe me” Frodo interrupted him. “You should thank your fate that you barely had the chance to let a woman down. Our love started in winter 1417; it was a secret to everyone and Lily had to sneak into Bag End to spend time with me and to share my bed. She could have been caught, prey to the evil gossip of every single hobbit between Hobbiton and Waymeet, and I guess I have to thank it to her skills as a midwife that she never conceived… but even so she was left behind when I fled the Shire. And we were neither betrothed nor married then; her mother had taken her brothers to Buckland and her father was weak and ill… she was without any protection.”
He broke off, his face tired and pale. Old images seemed to flicker in his eyes, darkening them to a painful, dull black… but then he sighed deeply, shaking off his rigor with a visible effort.
“When I came back, she was changed - as was I.” he continued softly, “We were both wounded in heart and mind, and it took me nearly two years to rebuild what I had thrown away much too recklessly before I went on the quest. When I gave her the ring four years ago, I not only made a wedding vow. I swore to shield her, to care for everything she might need, and to honor and cherish her with both, body and soul… for the rest of my life.”
He got up from his chair and Pippin felt the touch of his hand again, fleeting and gentle.
“This is all you need to know, all you need to do.” Frodo said. “Cherish and honor her, and try to please her as good well as you can… and it will return to you a hundredfold.”
He walked over to the door. Pippin turned around.
“Hundredfold?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with a smile.
“At least a hundredfold,” Frodo replied, his eyes shining. “And more… many, many more things than you ever imagined. Good Night, dear Pip - and you should leave the rest of the bottle alone, or you will have to try one of Lily’s hangover teas tomorrow morning. They work very well, but the taste is awful.”
He closed the door and was gone. Pippin leaned back, feeling strangely peaceful… and increasingly tired. The idea of getting up from his comfortable chair, to sneak through the dark corridors to his guestroom was barely tempting, and he settled deeper into the richly stuffed cushions.
You are many, many more things than I ever imagined.
The same words Frodo had used, but the first one to say them had been Diamond, on that magical day when he kissed her for the very first time.**
Cherish and honor her.
He closed his eyes, and his head sank back. “I can barely wait…” he murmured. The goblet fell from his limp hand and rolled over the thick, woolen carpet unharmed… and from one moment to the next Peregrin Took was fast asleep, dreaming of wonders unseen and pleasures unknown, a smile on his face.
FIN
*The story of that spectacular feast is told in A Yule Proposal.
** This kiss (same as the quote from the end of this tale) are taken from Ariel’s lovely story The One.