Note to Readers:

Thanks for the comments!

Xena, it was sad that Rudivacar died, but how else could Nell end up married to Ferdi? (as she does... see "Where the Merlin Cries"). Ferdi doesn't always do what is expected, but he *does* do what he thinks is right.

PansyChubb, it was custom for the widow/widower to go to stay with her/his own family during the time of mourning, as it was thought they would take comfort from being surrounded by brothers/sisters/parents during such a difficult time. As a matter of fact, it would have been custom for a widow (in an earlier age, in real-life history) to move back under the protection of her parents, or if her parents were deceased, then under the protection of a brother, at least until she married again.

As to the cruelty of the practical jokes, especially in regards to Ferdinand's teeth... having grown up in a family where practical jokes were rampant, I must give my personal opinion... I hate them. I believe they are seldom funny to the one they are played on, even though they may be hilariously funny to the jokester (and perhaps others not affected). There is often an element of hostility in a practical joke, as well. Suffice it to say, I am glad that Pippin grows out of the habit as he matures in my stories.

I have written well ahead in "Merlin" so that you ought to be able to enjoy daily updates in that story, as long as everything goes well. Please keep reviewing, it keeps my spirits up (nearly killed off a major OC last week in a fit of depression, how horrid!) and makes the Muse more tractable. I am a little stuck in "Flames", so am not sure when the next update will come. In a day or two, hopefully, as soon as I get past the sticking place. It is a pain to have future chapters already written and ready to go, yet the very-next chapter after this one is only half-done.

I have added a new chapter to "Merlin" as well, in case you are following that story.

***

43. Bereavement

The next day, Odovacar and Fredegar Bolger stood with the Thain as they watched servants packing the coach.

'We shall close up the house, of course, until Rudi's eldest is of age,' Odo said quietly. 'He inherits, you know, and is responsible for looking after his brothers and sisters, as well as his mother.'

'Could Nell come back here, with her children, to live?' Pippin asked slowly. 'If that were her choice...'

Odo looked thoughtful. 'It would not be the custom,' he said. 'Usually the widow is better off, surrounded by family.' He nodded slowly. 'But of course, the children are Bolgers, and the house does belong to her oldest son. They could move back to Bridgefields, once the proper period of mourning has been observed.'

Rosemary had arranged for Pimpernel's little Bolgers to ride in the waggon with her own little Bolgers, for their mother was putting up considerable resistance to returning to Tookland.

Finally, after all was loaded and ready, Rosemary and Diamond came out, bearing Pimpernel between them, encouraging her to put one foot in front of the other.

'Sleeping draught?' Pippin said in shocked disapproval.

His mother shot him a quelling look. 'It was that or tie her hand and foot,' she answered. 'She's not in her right mind, and we've got to get her back to Tuckborough.'

'Why not let her stay...' Pippin muttered.

'She's my daughter,' Eglantine snapped. 'I have a responsibility to care for her, and from what the Bolgers said, after Rudi's death she's taken precious little care of herself and the babe.'

'No,' Pimpernel moaned. 'No, I don't want...'

Pippin's face was white and strained, his jaw was set, but he took his sister and started to lift her into the coach, only to stagger. Ferdi jumped to his side to help, and between them they settled her on the cushions.

Pippin ducked out of the coach again, spinning to walk away a few steps, fists clenched, breathing hard. Odo walked slowly up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'When she is well again, we will welcome her back,' he said quietly. The Thain nodded without speaking, a sharp jerk of his chin, and the elderly Bolger turned away with a sad shake of his own head.

He stepped up into the coach, to lay a gentle hand upon Pimpernel's curls. 'Be well, lass,' he said softly. 'Go with grace. Take care of yourself and the wee lamb, and we'll hope to welcome you home again soon.'

'Home,' Pimpernel moaned. 'Please...'

Old Odo blinked back tears and stepped down. 'I know you'll take care of her,' he said to Eglantine.

She nodded, accepted his bow, and allowed him to help her up into the coach. Diamond entered the coach slowly, settling on the other side of Pimpernel, but when Ferdi spoke to Pippin, the Thain stood unmoving.

'Sir, we're ready for you.' He wondered if this was a waking nightmare for his cousin; did Pip envision his own return to Tookland this way, in the tender clutches of his relatives, with no way of escape?

'Cousin?' he said, then finally, 'Pip?' He reached out a tentative hand but did not quite touch the stiffened shoulder.

'All right,' the Thain said abruptly, turning to look at Ferdi, his face bleak. 'I'll ride on the box with you, if I may.'

'Of course,' Ferdi said, and steadied him as he climbed to the top. Ferdi followed with his usual agility, picked up the reins, clucked to the ponies, and turned the coach out of the yard as the Bolgers watched silently.

***

Ferdi saw nothing of Pimpernel after their return to the Smials. He heard when she was delivered of a fine son, almost coincidentally. It was Faramir who told him, when the lad came to see him as he sat in the Thain's study, drawing a map with careful precision.

'What's that?' the little voice entered into his concentration. Ferdi finished the line he was drawing, took a deep breath, and put down the pen.

'Map,' he said succintly, comparing what he saw on paper to what he saw in his head.

'I see that,' Faramir said solemnly. He pointed with a small finger, carefully not touching the surface with its still-glistening ink. 'That's Tuckborough, and there's the stream, and that... that's the Smials,' he said, his voice breathy with wonder. 'Where we are,' he added.

Ferdi took the little hand in his own, moved the finger to point to a cross-hatched area. 'That's winter barley,' he said, 'already harvested.' He moved the finger to an area with a different pattern. 'And that is winter wheat, nearly ready, as ready as it'll ever get, what with the dry summer we've had, and that,' he said, moving the finger again, 'is the spring barley, and it's about in the same shape as the winter wheat.'

'And this?' the lad asked, his face serious and intent.

'Hay,' Ferdi said. 'That'll be cut later. A bit of soft rain wouldn't do any harm. A hard rain, now, or hail...'

'Ah,' Farry said, and Ferdi had the feeling that this tiny lad, just turned five, had grasped the entire conversation, sucked it in like a robin with a worm, and was hungry for more in the bargain.

The lad straightened now, and Ferdi released his hand, confident the small fingers would not touch and smear the page.

'Pimpernel had her babe,' Faramir said suddenly.

'O?' Ferdi asked.

'A fine boy,' the lad nodded. 'Got good lungs on him.'

Ferdi repressed a chuckle. He could hear Healer Woodruff in the boy's tone and phrasing. He wondered if the lad even knew what lungs were.

'Did you hear him?'

'O aye,' Faramir said. 'I heard the first song he ever sang.'

'How's his mum?' Ferdi asked casually.

Faramir did not answer, and Ferdi felt a tightness in his gut. 'Farry?' he asked softly.

'She doesn't want him,' Faramir said, and met Ferdi's eyes, wonder and hurt in his own. 'She said...' He flushed. 'I wasn't s'posed to listen, I only paused by the door to hear the babe sing, but it sounded more like a cry, if you were to ask me.' He looked away.

'What did she say?' Ferdi pressed.

'She said to take him away, that now they could let her alone, let her go, leave her be.' He raised troubled eyes again to Ferdi.

'And then what?' Ferdi asked. He could hardly believe it, here he was pumping a tot for gossip.

'Gram made her feed him, said they wouldn't let her be until she did.'

'And...?' Ferdi asked.

'And she fed him, and then she said to take him away, and they did, and then...' this last bit was evidently the hardest. The lad swallowed hard, dropping his voice to a whisper. 'And then I heard Gram crying.' He shook his head. 'Gram never cries.'

They were silent together, for a time, then Faramir said, 'But why is she so upset?'

'Her husband died, you know.'

'Uncle Rudi,' Faramir said.

'Yes,' Ferdibrand answered.

'But... he's in that place, beyond those Seas, and all he ever lost is given back to him now. Why is she sad?'

'Because, lad,' Ferdi said gently, 'because he's lost to her, now, and she must live on without him.'

'But when she goes over those Seas, he'll be given back?' Faramir asked. 'Is that why she wants to go now?'

'Yes, lad, but it's not her time yet,' Ferdi answered. 'She still has loved ones here who need her.'

'But she needed him,' Farry said desperately, his little fists clenching unconsciously. 'And I need my da...'

'O Farry,' Ferdibrand said, gathering the lad into a hug. 'I do not know all the answers, but you can count on me to be there, even if it is only to wonder in silence together.' The little arms tightened around him. As soon as they dropped away, Ferdi released the lad.

Faramir surreptitiously wiped his eyes with his sleeve, then said, 'I was almost forgetting why I came.'

'O? Why was that?' Ferdi asked casually.

'It's my birthday. Will you come to the feast?' Faramir said.

'I would be honoured,' Ferdi said gravely.

'Good,' the lad nodded. He dug into his pocket. 'Here,' he said. 'It's a birthday present.'

Ferdi opened the paper to find short lengths of bright ribbon.

'They're for Penny and you,' Faramir said. 'She took second in the Tookland pony races this year, but I think if you braided her mane with bright ribbons she'd be so proud she'd run even faster. Mum let me pick them up after the dressmaker was finished.'

'Will you come cheer for her next year?' Ferdi asked, closing his hand about the shining gift.

'I will,' Farry said. 'That's a promise.'

'She'll win for sure, then,' Ferdi said with a smile.

***

He heard when Pimpernel was allowed out of bed, that she was never left alone, and that she continued to feed the babe, under protest, when he was brought to her. It all seemed un-hobbity to Ferdibrand, but then he'd never paid much heed to babes before.

He never saw Pimpernel or the little Bolgers in the great room, and assumed that they took their meals in the Thain's quarters, perhaps, until Rosmary dropped a chance comment.

'O yes, they take their meals in the second parlour,' she said. 'There's quite a nice little table in there, just right for Nell and the children and a minder or two.'

'How goes the minding, Rosie?' he asked.

She sighed. 'It's sad,' she said. 'I was a bit strained after little Buckthorn was born, but the midwife said all I needed was extra cossetting and feeding up, and she was wise enough--I was right as rain in a few weeks' time.'

'It hasn't been a few weeks yet,' Ferdi said.

'I know, but she won't even look at the babe,' Rosemary said. 'He's a little miracle, got all his fingers and toes and... O you should see his eyelashes, and the tiny curls atop his head and feet...' She sighed.

'So when am I to greet my new niece or nephew?' Ferdi teased gently.

'Go on with you,' Rosemary said in annoyance. 'There's none of that on the way.'

'I wager there will be soon,' Ferdi said with a grin, and she punched him on the arm in her irritation.

'Ow,' he said, 'leave off or I'll haul you before the Thain and have him put you on water rations.'

'I'd like to see you try,' she said, her eyes flashing, then subsided. 'O all right,' she said, 'I was getting all weepy-eyed. But it breaks my heart to see her, Ferdi, our Nell who used to dance through the days.'

'She'll dance again,' Ferdi said. 'She's just forgotten how, is all.'

'She doesn't care,' Rosemary contradicted.

'Give her time,' Ferdi said. 'Takes time to heal. Believe you me, I know something about it.'

After that, when he rode out before the dawn, he turned Penny's head to where the wildflowers rioted in profusion upon the hillsides, and thus each morning, a freshly-picked bouquet appeared upon the little table in the second parlour.