J.M.J
From a Took to a Took:
The Tale of a Long-Cleeve Lass
The North-Farthing in late summer . . . mmm. The barley harvesting in the low fields; golden grain waving in the deliciously cool wind, sweating yet cheerful hobbits at work with the scythe, all underneath cobalt blue skies. It makes the heart want to sing, the sight of the North-Farthing in the late summer. And the most charming of all the busy little towns in the north was Brewbine, a village in the Long-Cleeve district. How Brewbine bustled during the harvesting season! One would see the shopkeepers preparing their autumn produce in the town square, while the farmer-families would all be out in the ripe fields. The largest of these families was the Northtooks, seventeen children to be precise. All of them were already grown and settled themselves, all with big families too. All of them were gone from the old Long-Cleeve hole . . . all except one. The youngest Northtook, Diamond, was twenty-eight years of age with long hair the color of the barley in the sweeping fields.
Yet she was a tiny thing, sickly her entire life, which made her usually in a cantankerous mood. At the moment, she was in her dusty room, in her dusty bed while her mother sat by her and bathed her forehead with a linen rag. Diamond moaned from her headache, trying to get the irritating wet rag off. "Mother! I need genealogy books! Not…not sopping handkerchiefs!" she protested in a whine, testily throwing her blankets away. Mrs. Opal Northtook was growing impatient; she had been in this stuffy room for two hours now. "Diamond, you must have this for your aches. Really now, Diamond!" she said as the lass had begun to sniffle. The sniffles gradually turned into shaking sobs as Diamond hid herself underneath the covers. "Diamond, Diamond!" Mrs. Northtook soothed, gently rubbing the lump underneath the blanket, "Here now! Here's something to cheer you; tonight we are keeping a guest. Captain Peregrin Took as it is! Mr. Took is very celebrated down in Tuckborough, isn't he? Won't you want to come down for a little while to meet him?"
"I'm too sick!" was all that her daughter would answer. After some time, Opal left Diamond with dried eyes and an enormous genealogy book to keep her quiet. As the door clicked, Diamond settled back into her bed, thinking that those Travelers had heads much too big for their hats.
"Thank you, Mrs. Northtook, but I'd better not; I think I shall burst if I had a single more mushroom." Pippin laughed, giving a winning smile to his hostess. "As you wish, Mr. Took! Would you and Mr. Northtook like to go talk business now? I'm sure that you've been delayed long enough by all of my impish grandchildren." Opal said, glancing hastily around at the dozens of little offspring running about the room and asking their guest questions. "Oh no, ma'am, I'm quite enjoying it!" Pippin said, giving the lass's that was seated in his lap hair a ruffle. "Mister Per'grin, Mister Per'grin!" shouted the little boy who was climbing over his shoulders. Mrs. Northtook frowned and told him to hush and get down. "It's alright! What'r you wanting, Birch?" the young Took asked, lifting Birch down off of his shoulders and placing him next to his sister Amethyst. "Dija fight n' nasty trolls?" the little lad inquired, his big blue eyes aglow and his dark curls bobbing.
Pippin struggled to swallow down his surprise; the boy reminded him so much of Frodo. "I did." he whispered, stroking Birch's head. They remained like that for some time, at least until one of the numerous fathers called out loudly, "Alright! All of you small Northtooks and Broadbanks and Burrowses and Deepdelvers and Brownlocks, time for bed!"
A resounding groan was heard from the juniors. Pippin set the two children down and bid them go to their mothers. As expected, Birch and Amethyst both griped and clung to his neck. Pippin chuckled and stood up with them both in his arms, walking them across the room them to their mother. "Mrs. Broadbank, you called for these little hooligans?" he said jokingly as he approached the little ones' mother who was busily gathering her family's discarded shawls and overcoats. The good lady smiled at the sight of the well-known adventurer holding her wee ones with care.
"Ah! Mr. Peregrin, are they bothering you? Come here, Amethyst. Birch, you too!" Pippin only grinned and wished them all a fair night and then strolled away to find Mr. Northtook. He inquired about him to Mrs. Opal Northtook, who said that he would be in the drawing room smoking as he wasn't one for the commotion. Pippin then casually strolled into the drawing room, where he found Mr. Northtook asleep and snoring in his chair by the fire. Better not wake the old hobbit! Most likely he had a hard day's work. He thought. "My! What an interesting family tree." Peregrin exclaimed softly on seeing a huge, aged genealogy scroll stretched upon the far wall. Inquisitive as he was, the curious hobbit took careful steps across the dark room. He passed the line of orange fire glow on the carpet silently. He passed Mr. Northtook with stealth. He was almost there now. He…tripped. CRASH! THUMP! After the stars had cleared from Pippin's vision and the room had ceased to spin, he shakily sat up.
He began gruffly while rubbing his rump, "Owww…what in the name of the Valar…" That's when he saw her. And how could he not have seen the lass when she had a long knife pointed right at his nose? Pippin just sat there half in stupidity half in enchantment, his green eyes fixed on the pale face set with a dreadful grimace. "Umm…" he finally said in a whisper, still aware of his sleeping host, "Can you please get the blade off of my nose?" On cue, the girl's legs suddenly started to wobble beneath her nightgown, and her expression swiftly became frightened. "Eek!" she squeaked before losing her balance altogether and falling forwards. In an instant, the knife had nicked Pippin's cheekbone and the lass was cowering on the floor next to him. "Ouch! Heaven's to Elves! What was that for?" he now said with some force, rather taken aback by the sharp sting from the blade. Mr. Northtook snorted and tossed in his slumber, and the hobbit grew quieter.
Yet when Pippin turned back to inspect the homicidal-lass, she simply was not there anymore.
Hmm. I wonder who she was and what she was about? He thought to himself while tenderly reaching up and probing the cut on his face with his finger.
He certainly wasn't scared of her, that's a fact.