Little Bird Blue
Epilogue
"Mama! Mama! Look!"
Diamond looked up from the garden. "What call you for?" she said, but with a smile. She was checking the plants for signs of being too frozen over, and the called interrupted her work. She did not mind the interruption, however, given its origin.
Another winter, but a lighter one. The sky was clear; the clouds have faded; and the snow only fell to their ankles. That winter was one for the history books; it set all the Hobbits a-wagging about the height and breadth of the snowfall, and most importantly, the difficulty of getting a pint if you didn't ask a neighbor for help. More than ten years on, she was grateful each passing winter had not seen the same. She wore a thick blue shawl, knitted, now expertly – by her husband. Pippin took up the needles after their long, winter darkness. "If you shall paint, I shall knit," he declared, with the same twinkle in his eyes that promised they were no longer fighting the bleak winter glooms alone.
The same twinkle that glittered in his eye now, she could tell. "Yes, 'Mama', look!" he called, waving a hand and grinning. "We have a party!"
Pippin and their son, (their son! Still she marveled. At his smiles, at his laughs, at the morning arguments as to who got the last bit of toast) Faramir, had taken to building in the snow. Various shapes, some decipherable as snowhobbits, some not, surrounded their newly-built hedges, separate from the garden, a barrier from the path the Hobbits used to walk or ride. But Faramir bent over one in particular, that he proudly pointed to, next to a bush.
"Mama, come see! I made us!"
Diamond exited the garden gate, ensuring its closure with a sharp click, and stepped to the bush. The bush was an old one, sturdy, well-used to winter and Hobbits playing besides it - it was planted long before she and Pippin took up residence. Surely, however, this was a new sight, she thought, for beneath the bush was a family of snow-birds.
"We are birds?" she asked, arching a brow in Pippin's direction.
He shrugged. "Fara wanted to – he saw the abandoned nest in the bush. Did you see the fourth, however?"
"Four?"
She peered down, shuffling her hair back to get a better look. Indeed, there were four snow-birds, inexpertly made with leaves, muddy, but distinct. She touched one, and it crumbled slightly. Standing again, she looked up at Pippin, whose brow was crinkled in both amusement and wonder.
"Did you tell him?"
"No. Did you?"
"No."
They both turned to look at their son, who was grown bored of the inattention, and rolling in the snow, heedless of the cold and damp on his clothes. Diamond felt her eyes blur. She shook herself, then went to their son.
"I do not think small hobbits should get so snowy…" she said, warningly. Fara sat up, pouting, curly hair leaving drips on his surcoat.
"…all alone!" she finished, and threw herself down, sending her shawl askew. She did not care; it was a beautiful winter day, and her work was nearly done, anyway. "Come, husband, let's see who can get the snowiest!" Pippin joined them, throwing snow at them along the way.
Their laughter echoed resoundingly in the chilled air, and down the street, Merry, on his way for a visit, tipped his hat to Estella.
Author's Note: To anyone who has lost their own little bird blue...you flew too soon, but were no less loved. -omishiloh