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He had done it to her again, driven everyone away. Jinniver felt hot tears rise up in her eyes; she could hold them back no longer. She put the corner of her shawl to her face to catch the tears as they started to run down her nose. Hunched up, she tried to avoid the angry stare of her brother.
Pegram softened as soon as he saw his sister’s tears. He had won. He reached for the jug of stout and poured himself a large tankard full. He did not pass it down the table towards her.
She didn’t want it anyway. “Why do you do it?” she said in a quiet voice, not looking at him, but studying the wall instead. “These are my friends. They are good people. Why do you have to be so…horrible?” She finally turned to face him, her face red with tears of frustration.
He did not answer straight away. He was choosing his words carefully; now he had won, he didn‘t want to set himself back again. “You know why,” he said, softly, with a small and hopeful smile. “I care for my sister. After. You know what after. There are still bad people out there, Jinniver. Bad creatures.“ He emphasised this last word. “You can only trust your own people, you know this.”
She may have finally burst into the tears which had threatened, but inside, Jinniver was not beaten, not this time. The tears were for the thought of the upset her brother had caused to her new friends. She felt their hurt, and what was more, she felt ashamed of her own brother. Coming to The Shire had helped her lose all her nervousness, and she found herself laughing more than dwelling on the long distant past. She no longer felt like the awkward young woman she had felt a few days ago. Here, she didn’t feel sad about the past that had caused her whole future to be cast into shadow. It didn’t matter any more.
Feeling a little braver, she moved closer to her brother, and snatched up the jug of stout, pouring herself a full pint. Savouring the scent, she drank deeply before wiping her mouth with satisfaction. Then she took up her pipe and began to pack it full of tobacco. Pegram watched her with his mouth open, aghast. “What are you doing?” he said in a shocked whisper.
“What does it look like?” she said, bitterly. Then, forcing a smile, she lit up her pipe, puffing out a great quantity of rich, earthy smoke right into the face of her brother, who coughed and had to move his head out of the way.
“I…” he did not know what to say. This was shocking behaviour, a well brought up woman to drink pints of stout and make a show of smoking her pipe. In public. In an inn. He grunted and stood up. He felt as though he needed some air.
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