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Pearl of Great Price  by Lindelea

Chapter 1. Guess Who's Coming to Tea?

 ‘Pearl!’ At her mother’s cry, Pearl emerged from the byre, wiping her hands on her apron. Milking was nearly done, and then it would be time to shut up the biddies that scratched in the yard, and then it would be time for tea and one of Da’s stories. They’d take tea in the garden, no doubt, with this glorious autumnal weather.

There was a cloud of dust from the direction of Whitwell. Shading her eyes from the westering sun, the eldest daughter of Paladin Took made out a group of riders following the path that meandered through the Green Hills towards Tookbank and Tuckborough. ‘Mum!’ she called. ‘Visitors!’

Eglantine emerged from the kitchen door, young Pip’s ear in her firm grip. ‘I was just about to ask you to take charge of your brother,’ she said grimly. ‘He’s been in the dough again... it’ll be a wonder if I get tea on this day at all!’

 ‘Ow!’ Pip protested. ‘You’re tearing my ear off!’

 ‘I am not tearing your ear off, young scalawag!’ his mother said. ‘Go to Pearl now, and mind what she tells you or I’ll take you over my knee and no biscuits for tea!’ As she released him, he staggered dramatically, rubbing his ear with a martyred expression.

 ‘Come along, scamp!’ Pearl laughed, extending her hand. He scowled but she raised her eyebrows at him. Reluctantly he put his hand into hers and she exclaimed at the dirt. ‘You’ve been at the dough with these? No wonder Mum is upset!’

Pervinca emerged from the byre, an aggrieved expression on her face. ‘There’s three more to milk and you standing about,’ she scolded.

Pearl smiled down at Pip. ‘How’d you like to milk this day?’ she said.

 ‘Really?’ he asked, eyes lighting up.

 ‘Really,’ she nodded. ‘But you’ve got to wash first.’ Raising her voice, she said, ‘ ‘Vinca, take the scamp and wash him up and let him milk!’

 ‘He wastes more than he gathers,’ Vinca grumbled. Pip loved to direct a stream of milk into the cats’ waiting mouths. Secretly Vinca enjoyed the game as well, but she was much too “old” to admit it.

Pearl shooed the biddies to their pen. They squawked in protest, as it was early yet, but she sweetened their mood with a scattering of grain, laying a trail into the coop. She shut the door behind the last straggler and looked towards the road again. The riders were moving slowly. They’d probably reach the farmyard around teatime.

Her mother had made the same calculation. Pearl heard her voice from the hole. ‘Nell! Set extra places at table, it looks as if we might have visitors to tea!’

Relatives, more likely than not, returning from Bilbo’s infamous Birthday Party. Paladin had whisked his family away a few hours after the disappearance, for there was the farm to tend and he hated to impose on his neighbours any longer than he had to. After he’d eaten his fill and had another glass of the excellent vintage Frodo sent round to assuage the disturbed guests, he’d roused his sleepy son, nodded to his wife to collect their daughters, and made his way to the waggon. Though rich enough to afford a coach, he saw no reason for the expense of a vehicle just for comfort in travel when a waggon would do.

Driving slowly through the darkness, the parents discussed the goings-on while the children slumbered in the waggon bed, tucked up well against the brisk September night air and replete with good food. ‘He’s off again,’ Paladin concluded. ‘I always said he was a cracked pot, and now he’s shattered completely. I doubt we’ll ever see mad Baggins again!’

Although they reached their yard in the depths of middle night, the family were up at the usual time several hours before dawn, for cows will be milked at the same hour daily, and they recognise no holidays. Eglantine let young Pip sleep himself out (“He’s growing so fast these days…”) but the lasses had their chores to do, and so the milking was done, the eggs were gathered, the ponies and goats cared for, sweeping finished and second breakfast made. (Early breakfast was just a few slices of bread-and-butter, perhaps with honey or jam, and a bracing cup of tea before going out into the pre-dawn chill.)

As it was, young Pip arose barely in time for second breakfast, blinking at the sunrise, coming to table with tousled head. Sternly his father sent him back to wash himself and put his curls in some semblance of order, and then of course the youngster got a scolding for being late to table, though it rolled off him like water from the backs of the ducks paddling in the pond, working at their own breakfast.

 ‘How many places?’ Nell shouted, and Pearl was brought back to the present moment.

She yawned. There would be no trouble about “early to bed” this night... The riders were close enough now she could make out their numbers. ‘Four!’ she called back. She hurried to the hole, splashed water on her face and arms, ran a brush over her curls and pinned them up more neatly, then donned a fresh apron. There, she was ready to greet visitors.

There was the sound of pony feet on the stones of the yard and she heard her father calling greetings, then her mother’s sharp summons. As she emerged from the smial with Pimpernel, she understood the sharpness. The Thain! Thain Ferumbras had come to tea!

The Thain’s escort of three had jumped from their ponies and were assisting Ferumbras from his saddle. Fat and ungainly, he made hard work of dismounting. Though his pony was bred more for sturdiness than looks, Pearl pitied the beast. ‘Pip! Take the beasts and water them,’ Paladin ordered and his son took the reins of the four beasts to lead them away.

 ‘A moment,’ Ferumbras said, staying Pippin. He patted his pony’s lathered neck. ‘Fine work, lad. A smooth ride as you always give me. We’ll see you get a good tea as well as us.’

 ‘Certainly, Sir,’ Paladin said with a nod for Pip. The lad understood; he was to feed the travellers’ ponies from the farm’s own stock of good grain, not simply untack them and turn them out to graze. ‘Come in, Sir, come in! Tea’s just on.’

Pearl sighed. No tea in the garden this day, sprawled upon a coverlet, laughing and listening to Da’s stories. Instead it would be tea in the best parlour, on their manners, stiff and proper. In point of fact, she’d be serving the tea to her parents and their distinguished guest and having her own tea in the kitchen with her sisters and brother...

...and the escort, as it turned out. The three tall hobbits (the head of escort was over four feet in height!) sat round the well-scrubbed table, drinking their tea and talking quietly. They’d not been at the private family dinner, though they had accompanied the Thain to Bilbo’s party and enjoyed the refreshments and diversions there. Young Pip, a born storyteller, regaled them with the goings-on at the dinner, while Vinca sat mute, shy and awkward before these dashing strangers. Pearl and Nell were up and down, serving both tables, until Ferumbras declared he couldn’t manage another bite (indeed, he’d managed enough for three!) and Eglantine offered him a guest bed to rest whilst his tea settled, before going on to Tuckborough.

Once she’d seen her guest comfortably tucked up, Eglantine returned to the kitchen. ‘Sit, lasses, eat! I’ll clear away,’ she said briskly. ‘You too!’ she said to the escort, who’d risen out of respect as she entered the room. ‘Sit! There’s plenty more where this came from!’ She bustled about the kitchen, cutting more slices of cake for her daughters and the Thain’s escort, buttering bread, opening and setting out a fresh pot of jam.

 ‘Our thanks, missus,’ the head of escort said. He had a deep, pleasant voice; Pearl thought he might be a bass-baritone when he sang. He caught her looking at him and she blushed and looked away.

 ‘What’s it like to ride on the Thain’s escort?’ Pip asked eagerly.

The escort laughed, and their leader said, ‘It’s not all you’d think, lad.’ He took another bite of cake, washing it down with a sip of tea. ‘The escort is just tradition these days. I cannot think of the last wolf or wild boar that menaced the Thain as he rode...’

 ‘Ah, but Isum! Do you not recall the boar you shot just the other week!’ one of the escort said with a wink and a grin. ‘Charging full at us, he was, foam dripping from his tusks, eyes red with rage...’ He glanced at the lad out of the corner of his eye. Pip was breathless with excitement.

Isum slapped his forehead. ‘Ah yes, how could I have forgotten?’ he said. ‘Huge, that one was. Enormous large tusks he had, and tall! I thought he’d tear the belly of the Thain’s pony!’ He spun an exciting tale, ending with pork pie for late supper, while Pip and Vinca listened spellbound and the mother and older sisters hid their smiles.

A loud rumbling shook the smial and Eglantine started up from the rocking chair where she’d sat to enjoy the story.

 ‘All’s well, missus,’ the head of escort said reassuringly. ‘It’s just Himself, you know, sawing logs.’

As the snores settled into a steady rhythm, Eglantine relaxed, while Pip and Vinca smothered their giggles. They knew it was unseemly to giggle at the Thain, but were set off again as the second hobbit of the escort muttered, ‘There’ll be no dearth of wood for fire this winter, I warrant.’

The head of escort rose from the table, bowing to Eglantine. ‘My thanks for a fine, refreshing tea, missus,’ he said politely, ‘and please convey our thanks to your husband.’ The other two rose and bowed as well.

 ‘I will,’ Eglantine said. ‘Is there aught else you’d be needing?’

 ‘Nay,’ the head of escort said. ‘We’ll be saddling our ponies... the Thain will be wakening in the next half hour, I expect, and we had better be ready to proceed.’ He looked at the lad. ‘Young Pip, would you like to help me saddle the pony of the Thain?’

 ‘Would I?’ Pip breathed.

 ‘Come along, then,’ Isum said with a grin. When the tall hobbits and their small shadow had exited the kitchen, it seemed larger somehow.

 ‘Let us finish the washing-up,’ Eglantine said to her daughters. ‘If we all put our backs to it, we’ll be finished in time to sing the Thain on his way.’





        

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