Notes: I can't say that I'm completely happy with the way this turned out. I was feeling uninspired by the end of it, and I think it feels a little choppy. Still, I did want to put this to bed... Also, apologies for taking so long in getting this chapter out. It was a rougher week than I expected. I think I'm going to take a nap now. :)
~*~ 4: Pippin's Reconciliation ~*~
The sun had begun to rise, thin streams of orange and gold that broke through the dissipating clouds upon the horizon, when my Estella finally emerged from the great round door to our hole in Crickhollow. She was visibly exhausted, her normally impeccable deep brown curls escaping in a haphazard tangle from their clasp. Without speaking, she sat beside me upon the stoop, and I slipped an arm around her waist. For a long, long while, we sat together beneath the stillness of a breaking dawn, leaning upon each other in deepest sympathy. It had been an exhausting night for both of us.
As the glimmering arc of the sun began to show her face overtop the gently rolling Shire hills, I rested my chin against my Estella's tangled curls and whispered, "How are they doing?"
"Mmh," she returned, finding her voice through a weary silence. "The baby is small, but seems to be faring well. Diamond, however, is a little worse for the wear. She'll be bedridden for some days yet, but I believe she is a strong hobbit and will more than pull through. Provided her husband gives her the support and care she'll need."
Sensing the dubiousness that had crept into my own beloved's tone, I gave a light, bemused snort and stated, "Pippin, not caring for his wife? Is this what I am hearing?"
"I mean no disrespect, Merry mine" said my Estella, voice and tone softening somewhat. "It's just that Pippin is--"
"Very much changed from his days of youth. Although in the best of ways," I finished for my wife.
My Estella sighed quietly against me, and I held her close. "And soon to be disappointed in the worst of ways. Pearl says it's likely that the child will be their only one. That there was too much blood lost during the delivery."
I raised my fingers to my forehead and bit down hard upon my lip, feeling a brief, cold despair lance through my chest. First my Estella and now Diamond. What is to become of the Brandybucks and the Tooks? "He was so hoping to be a father," I managed to murmur past numbed lips.
"Merry mine, he is a father," she said softly. "And he's one child more than we'll ever have."
"Are you disappointed?" I whispered, pressing my lips against her hair.
"No, I'm not. Are you?"
"Maybe a little," I had to admit.
My Estella's arms pulled tightly around me, and she drew me to her shoulder. "Don't dwell upon what we cannot have, Merry mine. I'm certain that everything has happened the way it has for a reason."
"Oh, but sometimes what I wouldn't give for the sound of laughter, of great families, echoing through the halls of our home."
"Be careful what you wish for, Brandybuck," materialized Pearl's voice from behind us, as if out of nowhere. "Life has a funny way of giving you exactly what you want, exactly when you're not expecting it."
My eyes widened in shock, my speech caught short -- I had no inkling as to how long exactly Pearl had been standing in the doorway listening to our conversation. Although I found no words of my own to respond, my Estella glanced back at Pippin's sister as she absently laced her fingers in mine. "Too true, as always, Pearl," she remarked, subdued. "We wouldn't want to tempt the wiles of fate."
Nonplussed by the darkly surprised glare I cast in her direction, Pearl crouched down and placed her hands upon our own, gently tugging them apart as she smirked in her usual, peculiar Tookish fashion. "Begging your pardon, but you two will have to disengage for a few minutes. Plenty of time for affection later." Turning to me, she added softly, "He's asked to see you, Merry."
"Is he holding up well, Pearl?" I asked hurriedly, pulling my hand from beneath Pearl's grasp.
Pearl rolled her eyes. "How am I supposed to know? I'm only his sister. You, however, are his best mate, so I guess I'll leave it to you to decide."
Kissing my wife upon the cheek, I then climbed to my feet, feeling the weary weight of the sleepless night upon my shoulders. Without another word to either of the lasses, I followed Pearl inside as Pippin had many hours before, my hands finding solace in my pockets and my thoughts twisting ever inward.
As we approached the birthing room, which, earlier in the night, had been filled with cries of exquisite agony, I placed my hand upon Pearl's shoulder and leaned close to whisper, "Tell me, Pearl, how much did you hear outside?"
"Hear?" she responded with a surprised blink of her eyes. She then let out a small laugh and shook her head. "Enough. You should be asking me instead whether or not I care."
Frowning faintly, I played along with her game for the moment. "Do you care?"
"Nope. Can't quite say I do," Pearl returned in a flippant -- though joking -- tone. "Brandybuck business is Brandybuck business."
"And will hopefully stay Brandybuck business."
"I'll tell you what," said Pearl with a grin as she rested her fingers upon the latch to the birthing room. "I won't breathe a word to anyone as long as neither Diamond nor the babe awaken."
Exasperated, I suppressed a sigh. "Pearl, come on now..."
"Or how about this?" she continued in complete disregard to my impatience. "I wouldn't speak a word to anyone regardless. However, if I hear one cry from either Diamond or the child, I'll simply pound you instead, little cousin. You still aren't too big to be disciplined."
"Yes, Miss Pearl," I remarked, relief washing over me with a quiet laugh, and I thought briefly back to childhood days when Pearl would play 'schoolmarm' -- a heavy-handed schoolmarm with the ruler, at that. My knuckles tingled in the memory of Pearl's liberal application to them.
"And don't you be forgetting it, Brandybuck," said Pearl. Then, her tone softened as she opened the door. "I'll leave you for some minutes to see the babe, but I'll need you and Pippin both to clear out in a little while so I may to the mother and the child. See if you can't convince my brother to get some sleep, would you?"
"I'll do my best, ma'am," I murmured, and a quiet peal of Pearl's laughter followed me into the room.
Diamond was asleep, looking frail and grey against the linen sheets, her long lashes twitching restlessly in a web of dreams. Beside her Pippin sat upon a stool placed at her bedside, lazily stroking the back of one of her hands with his fingertips. As I entered, he gave her hand a final squeeze and immediately rose to his feet to greet me.
"Merry," he whispered in a voice quick to silence. "They're both asleep, finally."
"How are they doing?" I returned just as hushed, padding on silent feet across the room where Pippin joined me at the side of the child's crib.
"She's in pain," he murmured in a soft, aching tone. "But that's to be expected. As for the baby... Well, see for yourself."
I leaned over the rail of the crib, peering down upon a silently breathing bundle of hair, barely pointed ears, and down-covered feet. Already I could see a cleft in his chin taking shape similarly to Pippin's, and a fair widow's peak like Diamond possessed. Reaching into the crib, I placed what appeared to be a tremendously huge finger into the child's wee hand.
"He's wonderful, Pip."
"Yes, that he is," Pippin said, smiling almost sadly. "A single heir to the seat of Thain."
Giving the baby's palm a tiny pat, I retrieved my hand from the crib, straightening to look at Pippin. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"No, no," he responded hurriedly, green eyes widening. "It isn't a bad thing. It's just..." His voice trailed off momentarily before he caught his thoughts once again. "You do know that he will be our only?"
I nodded solemnly. "My Estella told me." Upon hearing his subsequent sigh, I quickly changed the subject in hopes of providing my cousin a distraction from his uncharacteristic melancholy. "Have you and Diamond come upon any names that strike your fancy?"
The corners of Pippin's lips twitched in a brief glimmer of a grin. "We've been thinking on the name Faramir. Faramir Took. Which might or might not go over well with my Da'. While a fine and decent name for a Man, it's also most unhobbitlike."
"At least the child is male," I murmured, thinking how disappointed Thain Paladin Took II, Pippin's father, would be if the honorary title passed from his line after only one subsequent generation.
An almost dark frown gathers at the centre of Pippin's brows, and he looks to me sharply. "I'd love him just as much if he were a girl, I'll have you know."
Raising my hands in the air, I brought a wry grin to my lips and offered quickly, "I didn't mean it that way, Pip! I meant that your father will be pleased, maybe even less likely to come down so hard upon you for the child's name."
Pippin shrugged, unconvinced for the moment, and a troubled expression crossed his face, dampening the usual sparkle in his eyes. "Maybe. It's hard to tell. Da' is getting on in years, and Pearl tells me that age has not been kind to him."
As I opened my mouth to respond -- to let Pippin know that I felt his pain, and maybe to let him know that Thain Paladin only came down hard upon him because he so loved his only son -- a muted knock resounded through the door, and Pearl Took gingerly pushed her way in. "Lads, come now," murmured Pearl, gesturing towards the entryway. "Let's leave Diamond and the babe to get some rest. It's been a long night, and I'm certain you both could use some sleep yourselves."
"Please, Pearl, let me stay with them," Pippin softly pleaded. His words, however, were halfhearted, as if he'd already had this argument with Pearl and was merely making a last-ditch effort to win her approval.
"Peregrin Took!" she uttered in a harsh, protective whisper. "You're doing yourself nor your wife any favours by hovering about! You're to go to bed, for it's likely the last time you'll have the opportunity for peace for a long while."
"She does have a point there, Pip," I said quietly.
"As for you, Brandybuck, did I not ask that you talk some sense into him?" She placed her hands firmly on her hips.
"You asked no such thing," I returned in a soft, cheerful voice, slinging my arm casually about Pippin's shoulders. "And even if you had, talking sense into your brother would have been truly in vain."
"You're incorrigible, the both of you. Come on, then, you two will catch bloody hell from me if either of them awaken. Go, sleep."
"But Pearl --" protested Pippin as he spared a fleeting glance over his shoulder to his wife's bed. Although her eyes fluttered upon the edges of dreams, Diamond never awoke, nor -- mercifully -- in later years would ever recall the subsequent days of debilitating pain that filled her waking hours.
"No buts, little brother." Pearl bustled fully into the room and led us -- unwillingly -- towards the door, kissing us each upon the cheek on our way out.
As the door shut behind him, Pippin leaned his weight heavily upon the darkly stained wood, his forehead pressed against it. "It's funny, in a way," he murmured softly. "I'd thought between the two of us, we'd fill Crickhollow with more children than anyone had thought imaginable. I'd thought we'd even outdo Sam in terms of family."
"I'd thought that for a while myself, Pip. Funny how life truly happens when you're not paying attention, isn't it?"
"I suppose. And I know I shouldn't be sad, as both my wife and my child will certainly survive... But yet I'm still sad." His hands moved to cover his eyes, and I briefly wondered if he was in tears. Yet he turned towards me after a moment's pause, his eyes dry as he lowered his fingers. "After what I'd said many months ago in comfort for your not having children, I'm still sad."
"I do not hold it against you," I murmured softly. Sincerely. "It took me a long while to get used to it. Some days, I feel I'll never accept it. But you've known for less than a day." I placed a hand upon his shoulder and led him a short distance from Diamond and the baby's room.
"It's a shock still," he said, moving mechanically beneath my guiding hand. "Perhaps even more so for my Diamond when she awakes and learns the news."
"Or perhaps she'll see it as a blessing. No lass, especially one as sweet as Diamond, should ever have to go through what she did."
"I would never again wish such pain on her. Though isn't it amazing?" Pippin added in an awe-struck whisper, bright green eyes lifting to lock with mine. "Such pain the lasses endure. And yet, they go on, and they keep on living, and loving. It's something we'll never get to appreciate."
"Be thankful for it, Pip. Most hobbit lads buckle under scratches and falls. Even I'm ready to call for an emergency session with the healer over this," I joked lightly, pointing to my swollen cheekbone where Pippin had struck me earlier in the evening. Pippin's eyebrows rose, and he rubbed at his forehead nervously.
"I'm sorry about that, Merry. I don't know what came over me. That'll leave a bruise for a week."
"That's all right," I returned in an easygoing tone. "Scratches and bruises make one look more masculine in the eyes of the lasses."
"It'll take more than a bruise to make you appear masculine, cousin," Pippin said with a smirk.
Chuckling in good humour, I reached across and ruffled his tousled curls. My heart found solace that even through sadness, Pippin could find the strength to joke. "You're such a prat sometimes, Pip."
"You left yourself wide open for that one, Merry," he laughed faintly. "It's your own fault."
"Indeed it is," I conceded. After several steps more down the long hall, I halted in my tracks before Pippin's own room, placed both hands upon his shoulders, and turned him towards me. "Look, Peregrin, if there's anything you need, anything at all, don't hesitate to come to me. The same goes for Diamond."
He stood tall and looked at me for some moments, eyes glimmering in a very light sheen of exhausted tears, and suddenly threw his arms around me. I held him this way for a long while, his grip upon me never wavering in its intensity, and my own comfort unflagging. When he finally released me, his demeanour was again further cheered, to a small degree.
"Thank you, Merry," Pippin stated, a tiny smile upon his lips. "That's all I needed for now."
"Come now, that can't be all you need," I murmured.
"It isn't," he admitted with a shrug. "But it's the only thing that you can realistically help me with for the time being. I will need sleep, and very soon before I topple over, but I can manage that just fine on my own."
Smirking lightly, I returned, "Yes, Pip, I think that's something even you can handle. You won't hesitate to find me, though, if you do need anything, right?" I added more seriously.
"Since when have I not, Merry?" Pippin whispered, disappearing within the recesses of his bedroom, for the first time in many years alone.
As I watched his door close, I felt the great weight of years upon me, and I knew that Pippin's heart, at least, was still young enough to heal. Soon, his grief would fade, although it might take more time than it would have done ten years ago -- the pain and shock of this night would linger longer in his thoughts than the memories of our personal wars surrounding the One Ring. But I couldn't help but think that the sharpness of it would fade the moment Diamond could again stand on her own, and would only recede further at Faramir's first laugh, first steps, first recovery from illness, first theft of mushrooms from the Maggot family's farm. It would leave a scar, for certain, but as his son truly began to fill his life, the pain would be little more than a memory for Pippin.
Slowly, I followed the winding tunnels to the wing where my Estella and I kept house, entered our immaculately homey bedroom, and crawled at once into the bed where my wife slept in a silent heap beneath the colourful quilts. I curled my body around hers and rested my face against her hair, and even in the throes of slumber her hands found mine and laced together tightly, resting upon her stomach, where no baby would ever find a warm home. Yet Pippin's words many months before echoed as clearly in my head as they day they were spoken, and the full weariness of the exhausting night swiftly overcame me.
"You may not have a child, but you have a loving, caring, and -- dare I say -- beautiful wife to share your life with. You are truly blessed, and any hobbit who cannot see that is but a fool!"
"Meriadoc Brandybuck, you've been nothing but a fool yourself," I whispered, holding my Estella warm and close.
"That's hardly new news, husband mine," she mumbled from deep within sleep, hardly aware of her words.
And as a spinning well of dreams and laughter washed over me, I found for the first time that night a moment of peace in my sweet wife's arms.
...owari...
~*~ Author's Notes: This is just one of the many interpretations of the appendix to LotR, which details the lives of the Fellowship after the War of the Ring. I've taken liberties in certain dates, such as the exact year that Merry married Estella, since I have not found it noted anywhere (Indeed, in earlier editions of LotR, I've been told that the family trees don't even list Estella as his wife.). This particular version follows the family trees in later editions of the book, with Pippin marrying Diamond and having one child, and Merry marrying Estella yet remaining childless.
Of course, this doesn't necessarily mean that Merry didn't have an heir. In the appendix' timeline, it's stated that he and Pippin "handed over their goods and offices to their sons and rode away over the Sarn Ford." This would certainly indicate one other son beyond Pippin's Faramir. The way I see it, this 'second son' was either not recorded (whether deliberately or not, I can't say) or was not a direct descendant. I tend to like the second option, particularly considering the plotbunny currently nesting in my head... (If this inspiration keeps up, there might be a follow-up to this. But be patient. My weekend writing times are going to be busy for the next few weeks.) :)
1: Merry Mine -- 2: Concerning Estella -- 3: Diamond's Darkest Hour -- 4: Pippin's Reconciliation