Chapter 11. In Remembrance

The second of November is the most solemn of hobbit holidays. When the harvest has been gathered in and the days grow ever shorter, when the weather turns chill and the year is running out, but the promise of a new year is yet afar off, thoughts turn to loved ones lost. In the morning hobbit families go out with wreaths braided from the last of the roses and other flowers of late autumn. They lay these tokens of love upon the graves of those gone in previous years.

During the nooning, favourite foods are served and stories told of days gone by, and then the afternoon is spent in the carving of boats. Boats and hobbits... an unlikely combination, but it is tradition amongst the hobbits of the Shire to carve a boat on the second of November if a loved one has died since the previous Remembering Day. The little boat is decorated with love and tears, and a candle is fixed within. At setting of the Sun, those who remember stand upon the banks of the stream or river nearest their dwellings, light the candle, say the name of the departed, and set their small boat on the water, to be carried to the Sea.

At teatime on this second of November, Rosemary was holding a cup to Ferdibrand’s lips, talking quietly as she waited for him to swallow.

 ‘Ferdi?’ she said. ‘Come now, brother, I’ve fixed the tea just as you like it, and there is lovely apple crumble as well. Come, Ferdi.’

Watching silently from the doorway, Bittersweet sadly shook her head. The lad had stopped eating the previous day, though his sister would not accept the fact, and  continued to try to coax food into him. Now she interrupted the patient pleading. ‘Visitors for you, Rosie-lass.’

Looking up the girl saw two hobbits standing behind Bittersweet. The older one, who held a cloth-wrapped bundle, stepped forward, saying, ‘Begging your pardon, Miss, but we heard about the trouble...’

 ‘Yes,’ Rosemary said quietly. ‘Thank you.’

 ‘I’m sure you don’t remember us, but your family’s coach broke down on the road to Stock one day and...’

 ‘You’re the woodcarver who helped us,’ Rosemary said slowly. ‘You and your sons. Of course I remember; you were very kind.’

The younger hobbit blushed and kept his eyes fixed firmly on his toes.

 ‘Anyone else would’ve done the same, Miss,’ the older hobbit said earnestly. He walked into the room, stopping before Ferdibrand. ‘Young master, I’m grieved to see you brought so low.’ Gently, he laid the bundle in Ferdi’s lap.

 ‘What is it?’ Rosemary said. The woodcarver carefully unwrapped the cloth from an exquisitely carved little boat, decorated with twining vines and flowers, “Stelliana” carefully etched into one side, "Ferdibrand" into the other. Rosemary gasped.

 ‘I knew your father and brother would not be up to remembering your mother and uncle proper-like,’ Gundy Woodcarver said. ‘We took the liberty... I hope you won’t take no offence, for none was intended.’

 ‘It’s... beautiful,’ Rosemary breathed, fighting back the tears.

 ‘I hope we got the letters right,’ Hally put in bashfully. ‘We had someone write out the names for us.’

 ‘You made this together?’ Rosemary asked.

 ‘I do the shaping, and Hally here adds the details,’ Gundy said proudly. He touched a delicate blossom. ‘The forget-me-nots, they were blooming that day your coach broke down, and I remember your mum saying they were her favourite flowers.’

Rosemary nodded, and took Ferdi’s hand from his lap, gently grasping the pointer finger, helping him trace the letters of the names. ‘Look, Ferdi,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you were fretting over not being able to carve a boat yourself, but now you won’t have to.’

 ‘Would you like us to walk your brother to the riverbank, Miss?’ Gundy said now. ‘Healer Bittersweet said he’ll walk if someone guides him along.’

Rosemary looked to the healer, who nodded. ‘It might do him good, Rosie. You never know.’

Looking back to the woodcarver, Rosemary said simply, ‘Thank you.’

 ‘Come then, Hally,’ Gundy said rising to stand on one side of Ferdi. His son stepped to the other side, and both took Ferdi’s arms. ‘Up we come,’ Gundy said encouragingly. Rosemary hastily took up the boat as her brother stood in response to their lifting. Ferdi’s expression did not change; he still stared blankly before him, but he walked between the woodcarvers as they slowly made their way to the corridor and out of the Smials.

The Sun was sinking slowly, lighting the clouds with gold that mellowed to deepening rose and purple as they approached the bank of the Tuckbourn. As the last light faded from the sky, Adelard the steward stepped forward to light the torch that Thain Ferumbras held. The hobbits of Tuckborough were silent as the Thain lifted the torch high and spoke. 'We gather together for remembering, as is our custom on this day. We remember those who have been lost to us since the last time we gathered so. We are here to celebrate their lives, their memory, our love which can never be lost, and the hope we share.'

One by one, families stepped forward to light the wick of a candle-boat, each one in the family touching the boat. All would say the beloved’s name together, and then one would set the boat afloat.

Taking a deep breath, Rosemary stepped forward. Gundy and Hally guided Ferdi to stand beside her.

 ‘Rosemary,’ Thain Ferumbras said gently. ‘I’m sure your father would be here with us were he able.’

 ‘He would be,’ Rosemary said firmly, though she was not as sure. Ferdinand had not spoken his wife’s name since the fire. Turning to her brother, she said, ‘Ferdi? Are you ready?’ Gundy lifted Ferdi’s hands to help Rosemary support the little boat, and then he and Rosemary guided the boat towards the torch.

Ferdi stiffened and tried to pull his hands from the woodcarver’s grasp. Rosemary grabbed at the little boat to keep it from falling. ‘Ferdi?’ she breathed.

 ‘No,’ her brother whispered, the blank look turning to one of horror. ‘No,’ he said again, louder, and then he shouted the word. ‘No!’

 ‘Ferdi,’ Adelard said, taking the teen’s arm, but Ferdibrand jerked away, still shouting, ‘No!’

 ‘Come now, lad, you’re disrupting the ceremony,’ Adelard said reasonably, taking the arm again. He was frozen by the lad’s next words.

 ‘No! Don’t set me afire! Don’t throw me into the stream! Don’t! Don’t! Please!’

 ‘Get him away,’ Ferumbras said urgently, holding the torch as far from Ferdibrand as he could.

The head of escort stepped up, nodding to Gundy and Hally. ‘Take him,’ he said, even as Adelard gestured to his son Reginard.

It took the four of them, Gundy, Hally, Isumbold and Reginard, to pull the shouting, struggling teen back to the Smials. When Rosemary would have followed the Thain stopped her.

 ‘Wait,’ he said, and when she turned to him, he added. ‘Honour your mother.’

Rosemary took a shaky breath, nodded, lifted the little boat to the torch and set the wick of the candle alight. She held the boat in silence for a moment, thinking of all that had been lost, then said clearly, ‘Stelliana.’ She took a deep breath, remembering her laughing uncle, and whispered his name. Bending swiftly to the water, she released the boat to the current, then rose and walked quickly away without waiting to watch the boat join the rest on their way to the Sea.

When she reached her brother’s room, she found Ferdibrand once more in his chair, bound to it this time, though he did not strain against the bonds.

 ‘What?’ she asked. ‘Why?’

Isumbold looked sheepish. ‘He fought us, miss, so much so that we feared he’d harm himself. He’s calmer now.’

Calmer, yes, though Ferdi was still breathing raggedly and his face was streaked with tears. Rosemary bent to take his face between her hands. ‘Ferdi?’ she said softly. ‘Do you hear me?’

 ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t.’

 ‘Where’s Bittersweet?’ Rosemary asked, not taking her eyes from her brother’s face.

 ‘She went to brew something soothing,’ Gundy said. ‘She was hopeful that the lad might have remembered how to swallow, seeing as how he’s remembered how to talk.’ He shuffled his feet, adding awkwardly, ‘I’m that sorry, Miss. I never thought... I mean, of course he’s grieving terribly...’

 ‘He’s not grieved,’ Rosemary said fiercely. ‘He’s afraid! He saw the flames claim our uncle and our father, and then our mother tried to drown him! Fainting with fever and shock, he was, and she pushed him into the Water, screaming that she must keep him safe from the flames.’

 ‘That’s not the story...’ Gundy said in confusion.

 ‘No of course it’s not!’ Rosemary raged. ‘What mother would drown her own child? She tried to drag me into the Water as well, and when I wouldn’t be dragged she threw herself in! How could she? How could she?’ For the first time since the fire, sobs shook the girl and all the tears she’d held back burst forth as if an earthen dam had failed, releasing a flood. She buried her face in her brother’s lap and wept bitterly as the four hobbits stood by, helpless.

 ‘What’s all this now?’ Bittersweet said, entering with a covered cup. ‘Rosemary, you’ll make yourself ill, child.’ Raising her voice, she called, ‘Viola!’ She handed the cup to Isumbold, placed a hand on Rosemary’s shoulder, and shouted again, 'Viola!’

 ‘Coming!’ a cheery voice called from the corridor, and soon a plump and pleasant hobbit lass bustled in.

 ‘Take Rosemary to the parlour and fix her a cup of tea,’ Bittersweet said.

Viola bent to the girl, urging her up. ‘Come lass,’ she said, ‘healer’s orders. Come with me now.’ Hands covering her face, Rosemary allowed Viola to lead her from the room.

 ‘Well now,’ Bittersweet said briskly, taking the cup again from Isumbold. ‘I have here a nice, hot cup of tea, young Ferdi, and I want you to drink every drop. You’ll do that, won’t you, lad?’ Placing the cup against the teen’s lips, she held her breath. Ferdi swallowed. Bittersweet felt like cheering, but contained herself, saying only, ‘There’s a lad.’

Isumbold cleared his throat, causing the others to look at him. ‘Young Ferdi was light-headed from fever, you know,’ he said firmly. ‘He went to the stream to fill buckets, to help in fighting the fire, and lost his balance. When his mother saw him fall, she panicked and reached for him to pull him out. The bank was slippery with mud and she fell in as well. Ferdi was pulled from the Water in time to save his life, but they were too late to save poor Stelliana.’

 ‘Why are you going over the sad story again?’ Bittersweet asked. ‘Surely they’ve heard all the talk there is to hear.’

 ‘Yes, missus, that’s just how we heard it,’ Gundy said slowly, meeting Isumbold’s eyes, then turning to his son. ‘It’s a sad story.’

 ‘Sad indeed,’ Hally agreed.

 ‘Good lad!’ Bittersweet said, well-pleased as Ferdibrand drained the cup. ‘I don’t think we need the bindings anymore, do you? I think we’ll be able to pop him into bed for a restful, healing sleep. Would you hobbits give me a hand?’

When Viola escorted Rosemary back from her restorative cup of tea, Ferdi was already in bed and to all appearances peacefully asleep, and the four hobbits who’d dragged him screaming from the bank of the stream were gone.

Bittersweet looked up from where she sat beside Ferdi’s bed. ‘Shhhh,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you take yourself off to your own bed, Rosie-lass? You look about done in. I’ll watch with your brother this night.’

 ‘That’s a right fine idea,’ Viola agreed, taking Rosemary’s arm in a firm grip. ‘Come, lass. I’ll see you’re tucked in and comfortable.’