Chapter 10. Driving a Bargain

Pearl awakened at her usual time, but instead of the snores of the Brandybucks she heard whispers and giggles. Pushing her door wider open, she saw four girls in nightdress sitting at the table, heads close together as they ate their early bread-and-butter. The lamp in the centre of the table had been turned up to its brightest, casting a warm glow over the breakfasters.

 ‘O!’ said one, startled, seeing Pearl peeping from her room. ‘Did we waken you? I’m that sorry, miss!’

 ‘No, you didn’t,’ Pearl said, emerging into the sitting room. ‘I was awake already.’

 ‘Another farm girl,’ a lass with dark curls spilling down her back giggled. ‘Welcome, cousin! There can never be enough of us sensible sort to balance out the daft Tooks of the Smials.’ She was hushed by the others.

The first girl rose from her chair, saying, ‘Come, join us! We’re just having a bite before dressing and going to our chores. I’m Daisy,’ she introduced herself as Pearl nodded and took an empty chair.

The second girl quickly filled a plate with fresh-baked scones, butter, and jam, while the third girl poured out a cup of tea. ‘I’m Primrose, but folk just call me Prim,’ the second said, ‘and that’s Violet, and her sister Pansy.’

 ‘And I am Pearl.’

 ‘Are ye of the north-Tooks, then?’ Pansy asked. ‘They have such names, Diamond and Ruby and Emerald...’

 ‘No, just a plain Took,’ Pearl said with a smile.

 ‘Have ye come to be a dairy-maid, then?’ Daisy asked.

 ‘No,’ Pearl said.

 ‘Ah, too bad,’ Violet sighed. ‘I thought for sure you’d come in place of Scallion, that was called back home on account of her mother having twins.’

 ‘Another pair of hands would be welcome,’ Pansy put in. ‘Are ye a kitchen maid? A baker, perhaps?’

 ‘Nay,’ Primrose said laughing, her mouth full of melting scone. ‘She’d’ve been in the kitchens hours agone, same’s the rest, cooking up first breakfast for the likes of us!’

 ‘The rest?’ Pearl asked.

Primrose nodded significantly towards the two doors on the far right. ‘Four of our lot work in the kitchen. They were probably asleep when you came in, and they undoubtedly rose not long after you went to bed! You’ll get to meet them later, I imagine, during a feast or wedding I suppose, for usually they’re asleep whilst we’re wakeful and the other way round.’ She eyed Pearl curiously. ‘So what are ye here for?’

 ‘I’ve come to attend the Mistress,’ Pearl said, and the other girls’ jaws dropped open.

 ‘That’s why you’ve got a room to yourself,’ Violet said slowly. ‘They took the second bed out yesterday.’ To her sister, she added, ‘I told you so! They won’t be putting another in.’

 ‘You poor dear,’ Primrose said. ‘I imagine you’ll need your rest, attending Herself. I wish we’d have more time to get to know you.’

 ‘I do have some free time,’ Pearl began.

 ‘That’s not what she meant,’ Violet said.

Her sister Pansy put in, ‘It’s just that attendants don’t seem to stay long. Either they don’t please Herself, or “something comes up” and they’re needed at home.’

 ‘I see,’ Pearl said.

 ‘I don’t think you do,’ Daisy said, ‘but that’s all right. We farm girls need to stick together like honey in the comb.’

 ‘Speaking of honey,’ Primrose said significantly, and with a laugh the girls proceeded with their meal. Before long, Mrs Sandytoes bustled in, lighting the candles in each room, freshening the water in the pitchers, cheerily urging the girls to finish their breakfast and get on with it, for they’d be keeping the poor cows waiting if they lingered any longer! The girls complied, washing down the last of their scones with strong tea and jumping up to return to their rooms to dress.

Mrs Sandytoes was helping Pearl with the fastenings on her gown when a knock came at the door. ‘Yes?’ the matron called.

Daisy stuck her head in. ‘Would you like me to do up your hair, Pearl?’ she asked. ‘Prim and I are done already.’

 ‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you,’ Pearl said, and Daisy advanced into the room, taking up the brush and quickly setting to work.

 ‘There now, that’s the last,’ Mrs Sandytoes said with a nod. ‘You must have had a job of it, undoing your gown yourself last night. You can count on me to help you when you retire, lass! These gentrified clothes almost need a maid’s help for putting on and putting off again.’ She patted Pearl’s shoulder, settled the lace that the seamstress had added at the neck, and excused herself.

Daisy braided and pinned up Pearl’s hair, and for a homesick moment it was almost as if she and Nell were preparing for the day, though the laughing eyes that met hers in the mirror were deep brown instead of changeable hazel. ‘There!’ she said when finished. ‘You could almost be a fine lady!’

 ‘Almost?’ Pearl asked, bemused.

Daisy laughed. ‘You haven’t spoilt your complexion with late nights and rich food like too many of the Smials Tooks,’ she said candidly. ‘You watch out, Pearlie-girl! They’ll be jealous of you, they will, and if any of the gentlehobbits pay you too much heed those high-and-mighty lasses might try to hurt your feelings with their snooty ways.’

 ‘They may try to climb that hill,’ Pearl said, ‘but I doubt they’ll find purchase. They’ll just muddy themselves if they try.’ She thought of her own aunt, one of her father’s older sisters, who’d married a Smials Took and had yet to greet her niece, who was a mere “farm girl”, after all.

 ‘Good for you!’ Daisy said approvingly, but Prim was calling ‘It’s nearly four! Hurry, girls!’ Within moments the whirlwind of dairy-maids had spun out the door, and the sitting-room was still.

 ‘Come, Pearl, sit down and have another cup of tea,’ Mrs Sandytoes said, pouring out for them both. ‘You have a couple of hours before the dawn. Tell me about the farm, and your family.’ They spent a pleasant time until it was time for Pearl to attend the Mistress.

***

The morning passed uneventfully with breakfast and business and Lalia’s “taking the air”. Upon her return to the Thain’s study, two hobbits were awaiting her, rising hastily to their feet as the Mistress was wheeled through the door.

 ‘The woodcarvers you requested, Mistress,’ Adelard said. ‘Gundavar Bolger, and his eldest son Halabar.’ The two bowed deeply, the father coming upright to meet the Mistress’ gaze whilst the son kept his eyes fixed upon the ground.

 ‘Ah,’ Lalia said briskly. ‘I’ve heard much of your work,’ she said.  ‘Has the steward told you of my desire?’

 ‘Only that you had a job of carving, Mistress,’ Gundavar said respectfully.|

 ‘Yes,’ Mistress Lalia said. ‘You know the great room.’

 ‘Yes, Mistress, we breakfasted there this morning,’ came the answer.

 ‘You saw the hearth there, and the mantel. It is just plain wood, polished nicely, but dreadfully plain.’

 ‘Yes’m.’ He’d seen the mantel—a great beam hewn from the heart of a sturdy tree, good, honest wood without flaw, resting on uprights similarly unadorned, but sturdy, the wood beautiful in itself.

With an expansive gesture, Lalia took in the smaller mantel in the Thain’s study. ‘I want it carved. Like that.’

Gundavar nodded, looked to the mantel. ‘With your permission, Mistress?’ he said. At Lalia’s nod, he went to the mantel, ran his hands over the intricate carvings, caressed the smooth, shining top, called his son over for a murmured consultation. At last he straightened and faced the Mistress. ‘This was a master’s work,’ he said.

 ‘You cannot do it?’ Lalia snapped.

 ‘I did not say that, Mistress. Of course it can be done. When did you want it?’

 ‘I want the mantel to be finished by Last Day, that all who come to celebrate Yule shall see the proper setting for the Yule log.’

 ‘Yule,’ Gundavar echoed, as Halabar sucked in his breath.

 ‘Are you going to tell me it’s not possible?’ Lalia said unpleasantly. ‘I was told you are the finest carver in the land!’

 ‘Be that as it may, Mistress,’ Gundavar said with a nod, ‘this is mid-October, and you want this done by Year’s End! Even with the two of us carving...’

 ‘The two of you? You trust your son to take on such an important commission?’ Halabar did not raise his eyes at Lalia’s tone, though he flushed at her disdain.

 ‘My son does all the fine carving, the detail work,’ Gundavar said evenly. ‘I rough out the shapes, he finishes the work.’ He picked up a pipe rack of intricate design that rested on the Thain’s desk. ‘This is his work, as I’m sure you were informed.’

 ‘I was told it came from the shop of Gundy Woodcarver,’ Mistress Thalia said.

 ‘From my shop, certainly, but from the hands of Hally Woodcarver,’ Gundavar said, glancing at his son with a slight smile. ‘I carve, that I do, but he has the gift—he makes the wood sing.’

 ‘Yet even with the two of you carving, it cannot be done before Year’s End?’ the steward asked. This was yet another of Lalia’s whims, and she’d make everyone pay if she did not get her way. Why couldn’t she have had this idea a few months ago, giving enough time to complete the project?

 ‘I did not say that,’ Gundavar answered. ‘But we would have to drop all our other business, work already promised, not to mention spending every waking moment at the task.’

 ‘What will you ask, to take it on?’ Lalia said, leaning forward eagerly, hearing the possibility of getting her wish. ‘I will pay you well.’

Gundavar looked over at his son, and Halabar met his father’s eyes. They had discussed this very thing on the long trip from Woody End.

 ‘We are your tenants,’ the father said at last. ‘You allow us to live on your land, to cut some of your trees each year, to ply our trade, in return for a share of our work. But this...’ he said, shaking his head. ‘What you ask is more than a share. You ask all our time for the next two-and-a-half months. I have business, I have animals to tend, a family...’ He shook his head. ‘And I am not even sure that the task can be completed in the short time you’ve allowed.’

 ‘What if...’ Lalia said slowly. ‘What if I were to grant you the land, give it to you free and clear... providing, of course, that the work is complete by the time the Yule Log is lit and the celebration begins.’

A look passed between the woodcarvers, and the father turned to the Mistress. ‘Two parcels,’ he said. ‘Two holdings, mine that I have rented from the Thain and that my father rented from the Thain before me, and the adjoining land for my son. He is ready to start a family of his own, and deserves his own holding.’ When Lalia did not answer, he added, ‘The work cannot be completed without his hand.’

 ‘You drive a hard bargain,’ Lalia said with grudging respect. She knew very well that the two standing before her had a reputation throughout the Shire of being the finest woodcarvers to be found in all four Farthings. ‘Very well. If the work is complete by the time the Yule Log is lit, you will have both parcels of land. If, however, the work is not complete on time, you will agree to stay until it is complete, and you will receive no pay for your work, though I will not be so cruel as to turn you off the land. You may continue to tenant there so long as you continue to pay.’

Startled, the steward looked at the Mistress, realising that this had been her plan all along. She intended to have her fancy carven mantel in the great room, and she intended to have it without cost to herself. Shrewd was Mistress Lalia, shrewd and calculating, hard and cold. Surely the woodcarvers would see that this was no bargain.

But no. Gundavar Bolger was nodding. ‘A hard bargain,’ he said. ‘We shall take the commission.’ He looked to his son again. ‘Come, Hally,’ he said. ‘ ‘Tis a good thing we brought our tools with us when we came. Let us get started.’