Fate

Chapter One: Preparation

      "Diamond Echinacea Took, get in here right now!"

      Diamond groaned and peered through the foliage towards the door of the hobbit‑hole. "Coming, Mother," she called half‑heartedly. She dropped to the ground, rolled, and came up brushing peat and grass off her already soiled skirts.

      Sage Took was standing on the doorstep, holding a wooden spoon and looking absolutely furious. But Diamond knew her mother was all hot air and bluster; she'd never really come after her with a cooking utensil.

      "You called, Mother?" Diamond asked meekly, pushing a lock of red‑brown hair off her forehead. Sage's frown deepened as she took in her daughter's ruffled, soiled, and altogether disreputable appearance.

      "I told you, Diamond, you're to help with the preserves, not go gallivanting off among the trees and soiling your new dress."

      "Mother, it was only for a little while," Diamond said, wheedling. "And besides, there's only the pickles left, and all that has to be done with those is stuffed into the jars."

      Sage shook her head, gesticulating with the spoon so furiously it threatened to fly from her grip. "You're almost thirty-two years old, Diamond, and far too old to be running about like some child. And besides, you need to learn how to run a household."

      "Don't remind me," Diamond muttered. She pushed past her mother and entered the hobbit hole, head drooping, thoroughly dejected by her mother's words. Sage stepped in behind her, mouth pursed, shaking her head.

      Any other girl would have been utterly thrilled to be in Diamond's shoes. But Diamond herself seemed to want nothing to do with her new calling in life.

      Diamond's father and Sage's husband, Tiberius Took, had arranged for Diamond to be wedded to the son of the Thain, a lad by the name of Peregrine. It was a strategic move designed to bring the North‑Tooks and the Tooks of Tookland back together after over seven generations of separation. Diamond despised the entire idea, despite the general populace thinking it was a glorious notion all together.

      "All right, what shall I do," said Diamond wearily as she stepped into the kitchen and began tying an apron around her waist again. "Boil saltpeter or scrub cucumbers?"

      "Start heating the jars and lids," said Sage, pointing to the stack of crockery on the counter. "The hot water's in that pot there. Be sure and pay attention to what you're doing; next harvest I won't be there to keep your mind on your task."

      Diamond rolled her eyes. If she had her way, she'd be on a fast track to Rivendell by next harvest. Anywhere but here, she thought fiercely, and began placing the jars in the hot water with a fury that made it seem as if the items had insulted her.

      "You're a lucky girl, you know," said Sage absently, her anger already vanishing as per usual. She began scrubbing the cucumbers as she spoke. "Married to a war hero. Who would have imagined."

      "Father, apparently," Diamond said dryly. Sage ignored it.

      "It'll be a bit odd, being married and still having the same name as before, but that's not important."

      "Then what is?" Diamond exploded suddenly. "That Father have a nice famous name to add to the genealogy chart? I don't want to marry a man I've never met, Mother, you of all people should understand that! You and Father had an arranged marriage and you've fought every day of your lives!"

      Sage didn't answer this. Instead she gave her daughter a dark look and began scrubbing with a vengeance.

* * *

      "What's her name?"

"Diamond."

      "Is she pretty?"

      "How should I know? I've never even met the girl."

      "Oh, surely you must have! You're marrying her in under five weeks, you have to have met her at least once."

      Pippin sat up sharply and gave Merry a dirty look worthy of Sauron himself. Pippin was rarely in a foul mood—so rarely, in fact, that no one could remember the last time he'd been angry—but when he was, it was best to steer clear. He could get mean.

      Pippin was not enjoying the situation one bit, which was a gross understatement. He, like everyone else in Tookland and Hobbiton, had been rather scandalized by the whole thing, but now everyone but Pippin thought it a wonderful idea. The thought was by no means something particularly welcome to Pippin at that moment.

      "Merry, please, stop it. I don't want to marry her, and I don't care about allegiance with the North‑Tooks, and I don't give a donkey's dingo about your insipid curiosity. Now, can we change the subject?"

      Merry plucked a sorrel stem and stuck it between his teeth. "Why so upset, Pippin? I doubt the girl's a Black Rider in disguise."

      Pippin flopped back on the grass and stared up at the clouds. "That's not the point. It has nothing to do with this Diamond lass, it has everything to do with the fact that my parents betrothed me to a stranger without either my knowledge nor consent."

      Merry made a so‑so gesture, still gnawing on the sorrel. "Well, at least you needn't sort through the mass of admirers you've acquired."

      Pippin's only reply was a derisive snort.

      "All right, so you had to break it off with Rose. And you've got every male Hornblower after your hide because of breaking her heart."

      This time the reply was still derisive, but it was a low, self‑deprecating laugh that was entirely out of character for normally bubbly Pippin.

      "And everyone's laughing at you because you've been roped into this mess."

      "Mmm."

      "And‑ and‑ and I give up! All right, you're in a royal bloody mess Pip, there, I said it!"

      Pippin sat up and met his cousin's gaze, no longer angry but sad, filled with betrayal. "And that's not the half of it, Merry. The worst part is that my own parents brought this down on my head."

      "They also ignored the fact that you're thirty‑seven years old and four years out of their jurisdiction," Merry pointed out. Pippin made a face.

      "'Jurisdiction?' You sound like a bloody dictionary, Brandybuck."

      Merry shrugged. "Gandalf and his fancy wordin' rubbed off on me, I suppose. Besides, the lasses like it when you sound like you've a bit more brains than a housefly." He laughed.

Pippin shook his head, smiling despite himself at Merry's incorrigible humor. "You never give up, do you."

      "Never saw a reason to. Come on, Pip, let's go and have a smoke." He stood and tossed the mangled sorrel stem away. "With you hanging about, the stress is getting to me."

* * *

      "That dress is just perfectly lovely."

      "Isn't it? Oh Diamond, you're going to absolutely radiant."

      Diamond twirled nervously. Excess of the suffix 'ly' either meant that they were flat‑out lying, exaggerating beyond belief, or telling the truth. She didn't want to know which.

      "It's gorgeous," said Laurel, voice mingled envy and happiness for her friend. "I mean it, Di."

      "Really?" asked Diamond nervously, a sudden bout of vanity overcoming her. She eyed herself in the mirror. A typical hobbit lass looked back at her‑ plump but not overly so, just to the point of pleasantly curved. Large golden brown eyes, long curls of reddish brown hair, full lips, and a slightly pointed nose. She looked odd in the flowing white dress, composed of a snug bodice, long sleeves that ended in points on the backs of her hands, and long, full, sweeping skirts. All of it was embroidered beautifully.

      "It's my best work yet, if I say so myself," Autumn Heron said, eyeballing the dress with satisfaction. "Will it do, Sage?"

      "Oh yes," said Sage. "It's perfect."

      "Definitely," added Laurel cheerfully.

      "It is," said Diamond miserably. "It's official now, isn't it? Once the dress has been fitted there's no going back."

      There was a long pause.

      "Everything seems to be in order," said Autumn briskly. "Change out of it, dear, and I'll keep it safe until your journey to the Smials."

      "Our journey, you mean," said Laurel. "Half the town's been invited, and I dare say the rest will show up anyway."

      Diamond slipped behind the changing screen and wriggled out of the dress. The outfit wasn't complete yet, she still needed the veil and the headpiece finished. The veil was three‑quarters crocheted, the headpiece design had been chosen, and her mother was hard at work arranging the rest of the wedding. All Diamond had to do was be there when the fateful day arrived.

      "Diamond? Are you all right?"

      Laurel kneeled beside her friend, who was sitting on the floor with the dress in her lap and wearing only her undergarments. Diamond looked up sharply.

      "I'll be all right. Give this to Mrs. Heron, will you?" She gave Laurel the dress and grabbed at her clothing, pulling it over her head. Laurel retreated, and a few minutes later Diamond reappeared in her normal clothes.

      Autumn and Sage were discussing wedding details with complete disregard for Diamond's presence and preferences on the subject, something that irked Diamond to no end. It was as if she were a child completely incapable of thinking for herself.

      "Have you planned the floral arrangements?"

      "Of course! I've a drawn layout of the area where the entire thing will take place, and the interior of the pavilion. We've chosen honeysuckle, white roses, ferns, and pink daisies for the flowers. I can show you the plans if you'd like."

      Diamond fled.

      Laurel found her five minutes later hiding in a clump of willow trees, trembling and sobbing into her hands. Laurel knelt by her friend a gently pulled her hands from her face and wiped away her tears with her apron.

      "Diamond? What's wrong?" asked Laurel gently, pale blue eyes filled with concern for her closest friend. "You can talk to me, you know that."

      Diamond looked up at Laurel, hiccuping slightly, face damp, and eyes red‑rimmed, all together looking like death warmed over. "It's this‑ entire craziness," she said shakily, more sobs threatening to overcome her. She swallowed them and continued.

      "I'm marrying a perfect stranger instead of Janus, I'm moving all the way across the Shire, my parents don't give a fig about my personal opinion on anything, and I only just turned thirty-two!" Diamond wailed. "I'm too young to get married in the first place!"

      Laurel wanted to laugh about the mention of Janus—Diamond had fancied the Heron boy since who knew when—but wisely held her mirth and instead embraced her friend, murmuring comforting words.

      "It'll be all right, Diamond."

      "No it won't, Laurel, can't you see that? I don't want to end up like my own parents, you know what they're like!"

      Diamond's parents, Tiberius and Sage, had been betrothed since birth and had fought every day of their married lives.

      "I know exactly what your parents are like, but you won't end up like them. You're far too anxious for that, you'd have fits of hysteria weekly in that kind of marriage."

      This earned a wan smile from Diamond. "I would, wouldn't I?"

      Laurel followed this thread of conversation, determined to make Diamond cheer up. "Oh yes, most definitely. Either that or you'd come after the poor man with a frying pan."

      Both girls burst into giggles at the image of an irate Diamond chasing some poor hobbit with a cast iron frying pan, yelling at the top of her lungs.

      "There, see?" said Laurel when the laughter had died away. "It's not as bad as you make it out to be."

      "I suppose so," said Diamond reluctantly. "Let's go back, Mother's probably wondering where her crazy child has got herself off to this time." She stood with a sigh, wiping the remnants of her tears off with her cuff. Laurel stood as well, brushing peat from her skirts.

            "Race you to the smial!" Laurel hollered, and bolted. Diamond laughed and went tearing after her, marriage woes completely forgotten.