Disclaimer:
Hobbits are not mine; they belong to JRR Tolkien.Summary:
I read somewhere on a website about the history of farm life (I'm a city girl). As you read further, you will see I really didn't learn much, but one old guy spoke about when he was a boy--early last century--that on the farm, his playmates were his brothers and sisters. I thought I might touch on that a bit as I can't really imagine Pippin detesting his sisters, though he may get annoyed with them at times. But that's Pippin just being a boy...These are little "snippets", but more is yet to come. Pippin is eight, Pervinca is still thirteen.
THE SIMPLE LIFE
ONE - Rise and Shine
"Pippin...wake up." A hoarse whisper permeated the darkness in his room, accompanied by a light nudge. He'd woke up a few minutes before his sister came in to wake him, but the warmth of his quilts kept him underneath.
Slowly, Pippin's awareness became less clouded. He turned over under the warmth of his blankets and rubbed his eyes. "I'm awake," he whispered back.
Seeing her brother was indeed awake, the sleepy girl, still in her own nightgown, shuffled back towards dim light of the hallway leaving the door open ajar so he wouldn't fall back to sleep so easily. Only on very cold winter mornings did she have to come in and wake him a second time. The only other sounds in the little farm Smial was that of their mother putting on a pot of tea to boil.
Pippin rolled over and laid his arm across his eyes, taking his time in allowing the day to invade his thoughts. He took a deep breath before pulling aside his warm blankets to sit up. Off the mattress he slid, and onto the cold floor. The instant his feet touched the floor, the hair on his skin (feet and all) stood on end, and his toes curled inward.
He turned up the lamp on his bedside table a bit more so he could see as he hobbled towards his wardrobe. He took out a clean pair of work breeches and pulled them on under his nightshirt. He slipped the nightshirt up over his head, feeling the stab of a chill against his bare skin. He shivered a little as he shook out a shirt and pulled it round to slip his arms inside the sleeves. His nose felt like ice and ran a little; he sniffed and wiped his nose across the sleeve of his clean shirt. After fastening his braces he let them hang loose; he disliked the feel of them on his shoulders first thing in the morning.
Next, he wandered over to a small table by the window where he would wash up for the day. Pippin took a deep breath before dipping his hands into the cold water and splashing it onto his face. Then he lathered his hands with the bit of soap; rubbing it all over his hands and face. He bent closer to the basin as he rinsed off the soap. Pre-positioning the towel beforehand, he grabbed for it before the watered down soap seeped into his eyes. He brought his braces up over his shoulders as he padded out of the room. He was ready for the day.
TWO - Feed and Seed
Eglantine set a mug of milk on the table, speaking in a soft voice, "Drink your milk, Pippin." Every morning she had his favorite mug waiting for him filled with milk. She forbade her children to start their day on an empty stomach.
Pippin sat at the table next to his sister and sipped his milk. "It's warm," he said.
"Momma says it's cold outside." The young girl was no longer in her nightgown, but now wore and old work dress that was faded and frayed in various places. Her curly tresses were plaited into two long braids and each tied with a leather thong.
Pippin took another draught. He was still a little groggy and the warm milk wasn't helping to wake him. He looked at Pervinca, "Are you ready?" He knew she was; she despised warm milk. Many times during the winter months he'd laugh as she held her nose to swallow her warm milk. Mother wouldn't allow her to leave until she drank at least half her mug.
"Put your hat on." As they stepped out into the chilly darkness, Pervinca handed him the hat she knitted and gave to him last November for her birthday. Their oldest sister, Pearl, had been teaching young Pervinca how to knit. The hat was misshapen, several different colors of yarn, and unraveling at the tip. There were only two reasons why Pippin wore the hat: 1) Pervinca knitted it special for him, 2) No one would ever see him wear it except his immediate family.
A cold breeze swept past them as they walked and then ran towards the barn. Yes--it was cold outside. Pippin's eyes watered and nose ran as he ran towards the shelter from the wind.
"Let's double up, Pippin. We'll get done faster."
Pippin was no fool. He agreed because then Pervinca would have to help him shovel after the animals...but also because it much more fun.
"All right," he answered. "Last one to the chicken coop is a rotten egg!"
Both children shrieked with laughter as they competed for the little pails and baskets then scooped up the feed from the bin. Pippin playfully shoved his sister into the side of the cow pen as each one fought to gain the lead in the race.
"I won!" Pippin shouted, dancing a victory jig as his sister came up behind him.
"You cheated," she protested. "You made me fall and scrape my leg."
Pippin stopped in his revelry. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "May I see it?"
Pervinca lifted the hem of her dress to reveal a very thin red scratch. As Pippin crouched down for a closer look Pervinca quickly pulled back and ran up to the chicken coop, lightly touching it on the top--nearly rousing the hens inside. "I won!"
"How? I already won the race."
"You have to touch the coop, Pippin. You know that." Both left their pails of feed a few yards away from the coop and took up the baskets they'd brought.
Pippin held his breath as long as he could as they opened the door of the small hut and stepped inside. Each child held an empty wicker basket and began filling them with eggs. Pippin held contempt for all chickens that pecked at his hands as he slipped them underneath. There was the large brown hen at the end of his row; every morning she pecked his hand no matter how quick he was to grasp her egg. He gave her the evil eye before plunging his hand underneath. "Ow!" He swiftly placed the egg in his basket before shaking his hand in the air after feeling the sting of her beak. He narrowed his eyes at the hen; That's all right, you foul creature!, he said to himself, You may have your way now, but someday I will eat you for dinner...
Once they were done, Pervinca passed her basket to her brother. No words were said; most everything they did when they 'doubled up' was routine. Pippin took the baskets and ran up to the kitchen door. He knocked several times and then ran back to the barn leaving the baskets on the doorstep. He ran back to the coop so they could finish up with the chickens.
He picked up his pail full of feed. As he threw a few morsels onto the ground, Pippin had a gleam in his eye as he looked at his sister. Pervinca knew that look; she readied herself for the onslaught.
SLING!
Pippin was the first to throw the feed this morning--at Pervinca. Both children circled each other, laughing with delight as they flung chicken feed in each other's direction. Soon, both were out of feed and the chickens were out of the hen house pecking at everything in sight. They took their empty pails back to the feed bin and left them there for the next feeding.
Next, both children entered the cow pen, rounding up the milk jugs and a sitting stool each. Pervinca would milk one cow while Pippin milked the other. Pippin set the one-legged stool under his bum and made a face as he sat down onto the cold wood. It'll warm up, he reminded himself. In each hand he took one teat of the bulging udder underneath the cow, and began pulling--careful not to tug too hard. Filling up the milk jugs is what took the longest just before breakfast. Pippin's thoughts were on planning his day after his chores when he felt a firm wet spray hit his ear--and giggling immediately thereafter. He nonchalantly continued milking his cow. They would never hear the end of it should they go back into the Smial with milk-sodden clothes. A few seconds passed before he felt another spray--this time it hit his knitted hat, soaking into his hair. That's it.
Pippin leaned to the left just a tad and took aim. Pervinca got it right in the face--but as usual, she was a good sport about milk fights. They continued to fill the jugs, but about every other squirt or so each one felt a wet spray somewhere on their backside. The giggles and snickering became louder with each round. It was only at the sound of the gate latch that they suddenly stopped in their activities. Both children stood to their feet. "Hullo, Papa," said Pippin, milk dripping from his chin. He was hoping the lecture about not wasting milk would wait until later.
Paladin had just let the ponies out to pasture when he heard the laughter of his children. With a grim face he opened the barrier gate and closed it behind him. "How many times must we tell you children that the milk isn't to be wasted?" He had a very good point; hobbit children were incessantly hungry and ate the most provisions. He took up a stool and sat down on the warm wood and began to milk Pippin's cow. "Perhaps this will teach you each a lesson." Paladin tugged on the udder and squirted milk at each child. "Never waste the milk," he laughed. "Always hit your mark!" The young hobbits shrieked with laughter as they pounced on their father.
After they had their bit of fun, Paladin helped to carry the heavy milk-laden jugs into the Smial. From these jugs the family would get their milk, cream, cheese and butter.
THREE - First Breakfast
Pippin was swinging his legs under his seat as he waited for his father to sit down and begin the meal. He brought them to a halt when he received a sharp look from his mother. Seconds later, Paladin was seated at the table and began passing round the platters. Not a word was spoken until the business at hand began to slow down. Normal small talk was exchanged around the table; thoughts about the weather, about a shopping trip to the market later that week, and the excitement of the imminent arrival of a certain cousin. Pippin was so overjoyed as he spoke of the fun they'd have during his visit that as he passed a platter to Pearl, he knocked over his mug--spilling milk across the table and into Pimpernel's lap.
Pim jumped up out of her chair, "Pippin!" She gasped as she pulled away the wet skirt from her legs. "Why do you always have to be so clumsy!"
"Sorry." Pippin was truly apologetic, "It was an accident."
"Now I'll have to change into another skirt!"
"Stop yelling at him like that!" Pervinca got up and fetched a few rags from the adjacent washroom. "If I had a stitch for every time you spilled something, I'd have a whole new wardrobe!"
Pippin noticed his sister was genuinely angry. For as many times as he and Pervinca teased each other, they usually came to each other's defense as well. Pippin was nonetheless touched. The next thing he knew, Pervinca was throwing a rag in his lap, "Grab a rag, Pippin, and help!" Well...back to being bossy. No one said the camaraderie lasted for a long time.
Once first breakfast was finished, it was Pearl who helped to pick up the soiled dishes and wash them. Pimpernel huffed out of the door to ride with her father out to the fields--wearing a fresh skirt. Pippin and Pervinca headed back towards the barn to finish up their chores.
~TBC~
