Timeframe: September 20-21, S.Y. 1421—the night before & morning of Frodo Baggins's departure for the Grey Havens.
Disclaimer: The estate of J.R.R. Tolkien owns all the characters in this story, including Pearl & Lalia Took, and no copyright infringement or profit is intended by the writing & circulation of this story.
Foreword: A postlude to my "A Pearl of Unexpected Price." I would like to think it provides a thoughtful, if tragic, explanation for Frodo's much speculated upon bachelorhood.
The morning sunshine glittered on the autumn leaves as the small pony-trap clattered north along the main road from Tuckborough to Hobbiton. It ambled by a field of pipeweed near the southern edge of Bywater, drawing the attention of the sturdy brown hobbit busily cultivating the tall plants. He peered at the driver for a long moment, and then his face lit up as he recognized her. He lifted his hand and hailed the young hobbit matron perched on the trap's seat.
"Mistress Pearl! My goodness, it's been many a moon since I've seen you in these parts! Come to see Mister Frodo at last, now that things have settled down for good?"
Pearl Took drew up the reins and slowed the trap to a stop next to the field. "Yes I have, Ham. You're quite right—I've stayed away from Hobbiton for far too long, and have come to make amends."
"Wonderful!" Hamson Gamgee crossed to the fence and beamed up at the woman he had always admired. "You'll be seeing my brother Sam and his Rosie as well, not to mention the new baby. Elven fair, Sam says Elanor is, as bonny a lass as any I've seen—excepting you of course, Mistress Pearl."
Pearl chuckled dryly. "From what Pippin has told me, it seems I am finally dethroned as the Shire's greatest beauty, for which I am truly grateful. A silly title to still be wearing, now that I'm a widow with two children."
"Get along with you, Mistress Pearl! Little Elanor needs to work hard to beat you in looks, and that's no lie!" Ham grinned and touched his hat brim in salute. "Begging your pardon, but you must excuse me—time to go back to work."
"Goodbye then—I hope we talk again before I leave."
Pearl clucked at her pony as Ham retreated with a friendly wave. She grimaced a bit, uncomfortable both at Hamson's praise and the whole purpose of her trip. She sighed, unable to suppress the constant speculations that had plagued her since she had left Tuckborough two hours ago. They began circling her brain afresh as the trap moved again, whirling to the wheels' rhythm. What is Frodo up to, anyway? Fourteen years since he let me down completely, four years since I was widowed, and in all that time he never once formally invited me to Bag End—just a note of condolence when Ferdi died and the occasional cordial encounter at Brandy Hall or the Great Smials during family parties. Now, out of the blue, he sends me a letter begging me to visit him. What crazy game is he playing?
Another small voice in her head replied. Why, the same game you have, my girl. Pearl winced as she recalled the numerous times her brother Pippin and cousin Merry had tried to persuade her to visit Bag End, telling her Frodo wanted to see her and that he held no grudges over what had happened between the two of them. She had always refused, fool that she was, too frightened about ripping open old wounds. No self-pity, she admonished herself. I'll see him now, and that's the important thing. I just hope Ham is right that I haven't lost my looks, vain little witch that I am.
Any objective observer—that is, any hobbit man in the Four Farthings, including her younger brother—would have told Pearl Took her fears were groundless. She was, notwithstanding her widowhood, still frequently toasted in pubs as "the prettiest hobbit in all the Shire." Her light brown hair gleamed with golden highlights, her fine-boned face and ears remained uncommonly delicate, and her blue-green eyes sparkled and changed color with her moods. Pearl's well-brushed feet were exceptionally tiny; her nose had an endearing uptilt, and what extra flesh she had accumulated only served to deepen her ripe curves. She was dressed all in black, her vest decorated with a riot of floral embroidery in rainbow colors. The whole effect was to render her faintly exotic and somewhat fey, more akin to an elf maid than a hobbit. If she had been standing next to Frodo, a stranger might have taken them for siblings, rather than the sundered sweethearts and cousins they actually were.
Preoccupied, Pearl stroked the fragile cameo pinned between her breasts. A homecoming present from Pippin, she regarded it a good luck charm now that Pip had managed to bring it undamaged all the way from Minas Tirith for his favorite sister. The cool feel of the brooch against her fingertips brought Pip's account of the Travellers' adventures during the War of the Ring back to her, as though he sat by her side. Pippin had made graphically plain how much suffering—physical, emotional, and mental—Frodo had endured in his epic quest to destroy the One Ring of Power. In light of that, she could hardly appear and promptly attack Frodo verbally for his alleged failings of past days.
Not like I did once upon a time, she thought painfully. Her memories of the catastrophic confrontation with Frodo she had staged on a bright summer's day fourteen years ago, all too vivid, came surging back to her. She had ridden over to Bag End after an argument with her concerned mother over Frodo's ultimate intentions towards her, since gossip was flying thick and fast regarding Frodo and Pearl. Eglantine Took, desperate to pull off an excellent marriage for her eldest daughter and her dearly loved cousin, had become increasingly hysterical as she demanded that Pearl learn, immediately, whether Frodo was going to propose, or if he planned to emulate his Uncle Bilbo and stay a bachelor forever, thereby leaving her daughter dangling with a possibly sullied name. After all, it had been five years since Frodo had come of age and inherited Bag End, so what was he waiting on?
Goaded by Eglantine, Pearl had stormed past a stunned Sam and accosted Frodo in his study. As soon as she made it plain why she was there, something unreadable flashed across the back of Frodo's eyes and he seemed to close up, ice visibly forming a shell around him. Pearl—unable to believe his reaction after years of whispered confidences, stolen kisses, and fervent promises, from childhood forward—felt her temper snap, and she began screaming at a horrified Frodo. She had demanded to know whether there was some other girl, or had Gandalf cast a mysterious spell on him that had castrated him? Frodo flinched at that one, and then Pearl uttered the question she dreaded above all others.
"Frodo—Frodo, please tell me the truth. You don't think I deliberately contrived Great-aunt Lalia's death, do you? You know it was an accident! I never meant for it to happen, not at all—I know it looked monstrous, what with her not wanting us to marry and all, but my hands slipped and I couldn't stop her chair rolling! Please, please say you don't blame me for it!" Mouth quivering, eyes streaming, she held her breath as she awaited his answer.
"By the Valar, Pearl, I've never thought that, never! This has nothing to do with you—it's me." Frodo bit his lower lip as his huge blue eyes clouded over. "Please trust me when I say this—I do want you, very much, but I can't marry you or you will be hurt, more than you ever dreamed—there are forces you can't imagine that could consume you, Pearl . . ."
The only words Pearl heard clearly in that soul-searing moment were I can't marry you. With a wounded cry, she spun on her heel and fled out the front door, her skirts flying as she mounted her pony at a run and kicked him to a gallop, leaving an open-mouthed Sam, and his Gaffer, swallowing dust. She made record speed back to the Great Smials, running through the entrance as she sobbed a river of tears, finally flinging herself across her bed as her anxious mother tried to calm her enough to discover what had transpired. As she choked out her story in bits and pieces, her father Paladin had joined them, and grew more and enraged at Pearl's tale, threatening to give Frodo a richly earned beating while a teary Eglantine cried with Pearl. Fortunately, her aunt Esmerelda Took Brandybuck was staying with them that day; she possessed a most unTookish serenity, and had often been the peacemaker for both her clans. Esmerelda sensibly pointed out that since Frodo and Pearl had never been officially betrothed, nor had Frodo gotten Pearl pregnant, Paladin and Eglantine hardly had grounds for complaint.
Pearl could take no comfort from her aunt's words, and proceeded to weep her way into a two weeks' fever that caused her family to fear her death was near. She finally began to heal, and once she recovered she impulsively turned her gaze to the other eligible hobbits in the Shire, determined to marry quickly and punish Frodo for his stupidity. Courtesy of her famed loveliness, she had no shortage of would-be suitors for her hand once the word spread that she and Frodo had broken things off permanently. After a great deal of flirting for six months, she chose her distant cousin Ferdibrand Took. While he could not hold a candle to Frodo for either beauty or brains, he was good-looking and reasonably bright. More importantly, he was besotted with Pearl and made it plain he would spend the rest of his days lavishing gifts and attention on a now rather proud and very hurt Pearl. She liked his sweet temperament and convinced herself she could fall in love with him eventually. He also had the advantage of already residing at the Great Smials in a different wing, meaning her life would change very little. Pippin summed it up neatly when he told her, "How nice—you don't have to remonogram a single thing you own."
She and Ferdi married a month later, and moved into the expensively refurbished apartments Paladin and Eglantine had occupied when they were first married. First Amethyst and then Lilac had arrived within four years, letting her become absorbed in motherhood and permitting her to ignore the growing emptiness in her heart. Much as she liked and respected Ferdi, his constant adoration touched her less and less, and she had to struggle against the impulse to pretend it was Frodo at her side and in her bed. Three years ago, Ferdi came down with a bad case of summer swamp fever, and after a short illness he died. She remembered sitting next to Ferdi's coffin during the funeral in disbelief, unable to accept that the fates had played such a cruel trick on her and tossed her good intentions back in her face so resoundingly.
Pearl jerked herself into the present as her pony clopped over the narrow stone bridge and climbed up Bagshot Row. As the green door of Bag End hove into sight, she gulped nervously, but then tossed her head and straightened her shoulders. I have nothing to be afraid of, she thought. She pulled up, hopped out of the trap, and tied the reins to the gate. Looking up, she saw Sam and Rosie opening the door and emerging to greet her.
"Pearl! I'm so glad you came! Frodo is so excited to see you, he's talked about your visit for weeks now!" Rosie rushed down to hug Pearl, kissing her cheek as Pearl cautiously advanced to the threshold. Sam stepped forward and shook her hand firmly, smiling gently.
"He's waiting for you in the study—I'll take you to him."
"Thank you, Sam," Pearl replied,
even while she wondered why Frodo had picked that particular room to meet her
again.
Sam paused as they stepped into the hall, his eyes grave. "Mistress Pearl, I need to warn you—Mister Frodo's not the way he once was. He's changed, more than you could ever picture. I know your brother's told you a lot, but seeing him face to face may be a terrible shock, especially since he's having a bad day. Be prepared."
Pearl nodded speechlessly. She fought off a rapidly sinking feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach as she trailed behind Sam, their feet pattering softly on the floor as they advanced towards the study door.