Chapter 37. Last, But Not Least
 
Next morning Saradoc Brandybuck rode up before the Great Smials, half wondering if the Tooks would turn him around and escort him out of the Tookland again. No one looked at him twice, not even the stable lad who took his pony. Large pavilions were being set up in the field next to the Great Smials; it looked as if a great crowd was expected. The hobbits worked in an uncommon silence. There was no singing and very little talk.

He’d never look at the Great Door in quite the same way again. Perhaps he’d have to go into the Great Smials through the ceremonial entrance when he became Master of Buckland, but this day Saradoc elected to slip in through one of the lesser doors at ground level as if he were a tradeshobbit or servant or one of the family. He made his way directly to the Thain’s study, guessing correctly that he’d find Ferumbras there.

Ferumbras looked up at the tap on the door. He raised an eyebrow, seeing the heir to Buckland. ‘News travels fast,’ he said tonelessly. ‘She’s not even cold in her grave yet, and you’re here already.’

 ‘I was in Bywater when I heard. I came to offer my condolences,’ Saradoc returned, maintaining an even tone.

 ‘Very well,’ Ferumbras said. He dipped his quill in the inkwell and went back to writing.

Saradoc crossed from the doorway to the desk. The Thain paid him no notice until he placed the heavy leather pouch on the desk. Looking up again, Ferumbras said, ‘What’s this?’

 ‘Payment of Paladin Took’s debts,’ Saradoc said. ‘This will satisfy his grandfather’s obligation in full.’

 ‘Your gold is no good here,’ Ferumbras said, pushing the bag away.

Saradoc bristled, opening his mouth to protest. He got no further than ‘I...’ before he was interrupted.

 ‘The debt has been forgiven,’ Ferumbras said. ‘Paladin owes me nothing.’ He put the paper aside, took a blank piece from the pile to his left, dipped his quill and resumed writing. Saradoc watched. He had not been sure what to expect, but he had not expected this.

 ‘Take your gold and go,’ Ferumbras said abruptly. Saradoc wanted to argue, but the Thain looked up then, and at the look in his eye the heir to Buckland subsided without a word. He silently took up the bag again and turned to go.

 ‘Your quarters are prepared for you,’ Ferumbras said when Saradoc was halfway to the door. ‘I expect Master Rorimac will arrive with a contingent of Brandybucks later this evening, your wife among them.’

 ‘I beg your pardon?’ Saradoc said, turning to face the Thain.

 ‘I’ll see you at the burial in the morning,’ Ferumbras said in dismissal, dipping his quill. ‘I have no time at the moment. I have quite a bit of business to see to, you know.’

 ‘Until the morning, then,’ Saradoc said for want of anything better to say.

Ferumbras nodded, his eyes on his writing. ‘Until morning,’ he answered.

And so Mistress Lalia was laid to rest by the side of her husband, and there followed a great memorial feast of roasted boar and suckling pig. The heads of all the great families were there, as well as the Mayor, and many Tooks and Tooklanders travelled from all over Tookland to pay their respects to the Mistress.

The day after the burial, a lone rider left the Great Smials, travelling through the Green Hills to Tookbank.  There he blew loud and long on his horn to gain the attention of the hobbits of Tookbank, and then made an announcement which was met with cheers, a curious thing indeed when contrasted with the sober previous day. Though the hobbits of Tookbank pressed him to partake of a celebratory mug with them, he demurred and rode on towards Whitwell after posting a notice in the market square.

He stopped where a lane led from the road to a farmyard. At the entrance of the lane was a roughly-fashioned flag, red fabric tied to a stick and thrust into the ground, warning hobbits from entering the premises. The rider stopped just long enough to yank the stick from the ground, carrying it before him into the yard before the comfortable but hushed dwelling.

There were no greetings for him. Silent hobbits emerged from home and byre: the farmer, his wife, his daughters and his young son, all weary from trying to do the work of many, from discouragement, from being sick at heart over circumstances beyond their ken.

The rider tore the fabric from the stick, broke the stick in half and cast it into the mud, then tore the fabric in half, saying, ‘By order of Thain Ferumbras II, the Ban is lifted! Paladin son of Adalgrim of the Tooks, you are free.’

 ‘What is this, Reginard?’ Paladin said. His voice sounded rusty as from disuse. Reginard wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the family had hardly spoken a word, even in the privacy of their home, since the shunning had begun.

 ‘Just what I said, Paladin,’ Reginard said. ‘Would you have a cup of tea ready? I find my throat is dry, and I have yet to announce the news in Whitwell and Bywater.’

Eglantine broke into a wide smile. ‘Come in!’ she said, ‘Come in! It won’t take long to put the kettle on.’

 ‘Pip, take the gentlehobbit’s pony,’ Paladin said, finding his own tongue again. The lad hurried to obey as Regi dismounted.

Over tea, Regi said, ‘The Thain would have brought the news himself, but for the fact that he’s still too stiff and sore to ride.’ He told about the hunt, and the killing of the entire sounder of wild swine.

Young Pip kept his eyes on his plate through the narrative, only looking up at the end to say, ‘They’re all dead, then?’

 ‘Dead and gone,’ Regi said firmly. Eaten, actually, but he thought it best not to say so. ‘Properly one of the escort should bring this news to you, barring the Thain, but...’ His lips tightened. ‘Palabard is dead, and Baragrim too stiff to ride, and fevered in the bargain.’

 ‘And Isumbold?’ Paladin said quietly. He patted Pearl’s hand and took it gently in his while they waited for an answer.

The girl sat very still, but her eyes were full of tears, Regi saw. ‘He is still in the world,’ he answered. ‘It’s early days yet, too soon to tell if he’ll stay or go.’

Paladin nodded. Pearl blinked, and a tear spilled down her cheek. She rose abruptly, murmuring something about brewing more tea, and hurried from the room.

Regi drained his cup and rose. ‘I thank you,’ he said, ‘but I dare not stay. I am to ride to Whitwell and over to Bywater and return to the Great Smials again, for there are more messages to be delivered.’

He reached under his jacket, bringing out a roll of papers. ‘Here,’ he said, untying the ribbon that held them. Handing the first to Paladin, he said, ‘The Thain’s signed proclamation, rescinding the Ban.’ With the second he said, ‘Here is the title to your land, free and clear.’

 ‘I don’t understand,’ Paladin said. ‘I cannot accept this. I have not paid the debt in full!’

 ‘Thain Ferumbras has cancelled all debts held by Mistress Lalia, as well as lifting all Bans imposed by the Mistress,’ Reginard said. ‘It is his way of honouring her memory.’

Paladin could find no words to reply to this extraordinary statement.

Pearl returned with a fresh teapot, putting it down and taking up the nearly-empty one. Regi stopped her before she could return to the kitchen. ‘A moment, Pearl,’ he said.

 ‘Yes?’ she whispered.

 ‘The Thain wished me to convey to you that he considers you to have fulfilled all your duties, responsibilities, and agreements.’

 ‘Thain Ferumbras said...’ Pearl said, standing straighter.

 ‘He said you are released from any future obligations,’ Reginard said firmly. ‘He wished you all the best, Pearl, and said you brightened his mother’s last months with your dedicated care. Mistress Lalia was quite fond of you. She spoke very highly of you and your devotion to your duties.’

 ‘I... thank you,’ Pearl said slowly, ‘and please convey my best to the Thain.’

 ‘I will be sure to do that,’ Reginard said. Turning to Paladin, he shook the farmer’s hand. ‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ he said. ‘You and your family are welcome at the Great Smials any time, though I imagine you will be busy with all the demands of the farm for the foreseeable future.’

 ‘I imagine we’ll be quite busy with planting,’ Paladin said. ‘We might not be able to attend Thain Ferumbras’ confirmation as The Took, though we wish him all the best.’

 ‘That would be perfectly understandable,’ Reginard said, carefully not looking at Pearl.

 ‘We understand one another,’ Paladin agreed. Pearl gulped back more tears; her mother put a comforting arm about her while Pippin looked from face to face in confusion. How to explain to him that his sister was in disgrace? The Talk was that Pearl had clumsily let Lalia’s chair run over the sill of the doorway, tipping the chair and the Mistress down the stairs.

Bittersweet and Viola had quite deliberately started this rumour, for it was better than the ill-natured whispers that Pearl had acted intentionally out of spite. Lalia had, after all, pronounced the Ban on the girl’s family. While everyone half-sympathised with Pearl they were Tookishly prepared to believe the worst, and more inclined to assign fault to someone than to believe in accidents. Better to leave the matter unspoken before the lad, for it would only upset him. He’d learn about the perils of the Talk when he was older.

 ‘Well then,’ Reginard said briskly. ‘I’ll be on my way.’

***

Months passed much as they always did on the farm. Paladin Took and his family did not attend the confirmation of Thain Ferumbras as The Took. Neither did they participate in the festivities, though they heard about the great feast, for it was the talk of Tookland for some weeks afterwards.

Late in the autumn another lone rider turned in at the gate to the farm, greeted wildly by Pippin, though this time no sheepdog ran beside and then behind him, nipping at his heels.

 ‘What is that boy yelling about now?’ Pimpernel said, stirring the simmering apples. Though the day was chilly, the kitchen was hot and steamy with the preparation of apple butter well underway.

 ‘Visitor!’ Pervinca announced, passing the window with a bowlful of apples ready for the next pot.

Pearl looked out the window and dropped the knife she was drying. Fortunately it did not land on her foot.

 ‘Pearl!’ her mother scolded. ‘You’re usually more careful than that... you might have...’

 ‘It’s Pie,’ Pearl whispered, ‘Isum’s pony.’

 ‘Isum!’ her mother said. ‘Quick, girl, splash your face with cold water and put on a clean apron. Vinca, put those apples down and get a tray ready for tea! Nell, put the kettle on!’

Paladin emerged from the barn where he’d been treating a lame pony. ‘Isum!’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you!’

Isumbold slid from the saddle, took a sturdy stick from a holder riveted to his saddle, and walked stiffly—ah, but he was walking!—to meet the farmer’s outstretched hand. ‘Paladin,’ he said, leaning heavily on the stick.

 ‘What’s the occasion of this visit?’ Paladin said. ‘Do you bring us word from the Thain?’

 ‘No occasion,’ Isumbold replied. ‘This is just a social visit.’

 ‘You are well come,’ Paladin said.

 ‘Are you going to keep the hobbit standing in the cold wind all the day?’ Eglantine said, emerging from the house, wiping her hands on a towel.

 ‘Come in!’ Paladin said immediately, putting an arm about Isum’s shoulders. ‘I do believe that currant scones were promised for tea.’ 

 ‘Hot out of the oven,’ Eglantine agreed with a significant nod to Pimpernel, who was hovering in the doorway. Nell hurried to the kitchen and began shaking the dry ingredients for scones into a bowl.

 ‘What is it?’ Vinca said.

 ‘Currant scones,’ Nell answered breathlessly. ‘Here, Vinca, cut the butter in for me whilst I get the currants from the pantry.’

In no time at all the teapot was warming in preparation for the tea, the kettle was singing, and the scones were adding their aroma to that of the simmering apples, filling all the rooms with promise. Isum sniffed appreciatively as he eased himself down. Paladin had shown him to the best chair in the parlour, walking slowly from the yard to accommodate Isum’s halting pace.

 Isum laid his walking stick down beside the chair with a sigh. ‘My thanks,’ he said to the hovering Paladin.

The farmer nodded and took his own seat. ‘It is good to see you so well-recovered,’ he said.

 ‘Recovered, you might say,’ Isum returned wryly. ‘Well-recovered, now... it is a good thing I can depend on Pie’s sturdy legs, for my own are nearly useless. Still, they bear me where I wish to go.’

As Isum was speaking, Eglantine had entered with the tea tray and Pearl behind her laden with a platter of hastily-assembled sandwiches to "hold" the guest whilst the scones baked. They were followed by the rest of the family who settled themselves about the parlour. ‘No, no, sit yourself down,’ Eglantine scolded as Isum struggled to rise from his chair.

Paladin nodded to himself. He had heard that Isum was no longer head of escort but not the reason why. Now he understood. To be a hobbit of the escort one had to be able to shoot accurately, ride skilfully, and run far. ‘What are you doing these days?’ he asked.

Isum chuckled. ‘I have found a position as tutor,’ he said. ‘There will always be young Tooks needing instruction in the fine arts of riding and shooting. There’s quite a bit of prestige in learning from a former head of escort. It pays well.’ He accepted the cup that Eglantine poured out for him with a nod of thanks.

They talked of inconsequentialities: the weather, the annual pony races, the harvest, and more such. Before long Pimpernel excused herself, returning quickly with a tray of smoking-hot scones, butter, cream and preserves. There was silence for a few moments as all applied themselves with due seriousness to the business of enjoying the treat.

The guest praised Pimpernel’s scones to the skies, accepting more than one helping and washing all down with quantities of strong tea while regaling the farmer and his family with tales from the Great Smials. Pearl listened quietly, sitting on a footstool at her father’s feet as any simple farm girl might, the firelight playing across her face. Indeed she was a world away from the bright and fashionable life of the Smials.

Tea over at last, Isum put his cup down upon its saucer and sighed. ‘A fine meal,’ he said. ‘It seems almost a pity to get to business.’

 ‘I thought you said this was a social call,’ Paladin said with raised eyebrow.

 ‘It is, but when the Thain heard I was coming out this way he asked if I would deliver a parcel or two,’ Isumbold said. To Pippin he added, ‘Lad, in my saddlebags, you’ll find a leather pouch in one and a brown-paper parcel in the other. Would you fetch them for me?’

Pip was off as quick as an arrow from the bow and Isum looked after him with a smile. ‘A good lad you have there.’

A shadow crossed Paladin’s face. ‘He might be,’ the farmer said quietly, ‘if I could get his head out of the clouds.’

Eglantine hastily changed the subject, asking after Ferdibrand, and Isum was happy to tell of the teen, growing steadily in knowledge and skill under Verilard’s tutelage.

Pippin returned bearing the requested items, though it looked to be a heavy burden for a lad of his age. ‘Bring them here,’ Isum said, taking them on his lap. He looked at the curious faces surrounding him. ‘Thain Ferumbras has been working through his mother’s papers,’ he said, ‘from earliest to latest. He’s been tidying up her affairs, finishing out agreements, settling debts and the like.’ Paladin nodded.

Isum went on. ‘Just yesterday he found an agreement that had gone unsatisfied, a matter of service for payment agreed-upon beforehand. The service was performed but payment was never made.’ He loosed the string on the pouch and poured a bright cascade of gold pieces onto the table beside him. ‘Pearl’s salary,’ he said simply, then extended the parcel, a long boxlike shape, to Paladin. ‘This was part of her payment as well.’

Paladin took the box, weighing it in his hand, and then handed it to Pearl. ‘It’s yours,’ he said. ‘You earned it.’

All eyes upon her, Pearl slowly undid the string and folded back the brown paper to reveal a finely-carven box of dark wood.

 ‘Go ahead, Pearl-love, open it,’ Eglantine said quietly, her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

As carefully as if the box had teeth to bite, Pearl undid the latch and lifted the lid, revealing a necklace wrought of lustrous pearls of remarkable size and beauty.

 ‘This is far too fine for me,’ Pearl whispered, her eyes fixed on the glowing orbs. As if against her will she picked up the necklace, feeling the cool smoothness of the pearls in her hand and cascading down her wrist.

 ‘I had no idea,’ Paladin said slowly. He looked sharply at Isum. ‘This is not the necklace that the Mistress showed us when we signed the agreement.’ That had been a small cluster of pearls suspended from a finely-wrought gold chain.

 ‘This is what the Thain sent,’ Isumbold said firmly. ‘Take it up with him if you are dissatisfied.’

 ‘Wear them,’ Eglantine said, unexpectedly firm. ‘Wear them with pride, daughter. You earned every one of those fine name-jewels, you did.’

 ‘But...’ Pearl said in real distress, holding the necklace out to Isumbold.

 ‘The Thain sent his best wishes,’ Isum said, closing her fingers over the pearls in her palm. His hand lingered on hers as he looked to Paladin. ‘But that was not the reason I came,’ he added.

 ‘Yes, you said he sent the parcels along with you because you were coming this way in any event,’ the farmer remembered. ‘Why did you come?’

 ‘I came to ask for Pearl’s hand,’ Isumbold said, and held his breath.

The farmer broke into a broad smile. ‘I’d say you already have it,’ he said.

Pippin gave a whoop and mother and sisters gave pleased exclamations while Pearl sat as if turned to stone. Paladin turned a quizzical eye on her.

 ‘Well, daughter?’ he said. ‘Does this match not meet with your approval?’

 ‘Oh,’ Pearl said, and drawing a great breath she turned a dazzling smile upon her father. ‘Yes, Father, indeed!’ She withdrew her hand from Isum’s just long enough to deposit the necklace in the box in her lap, then held out her hand once again to meet Isumbold’s clasp. ‘I will gladly marry you, Isum.’

Isumbold let out the breath he’d been holding. ‘Are you willing to come to the Great Smials to live? That is where my livelihood is,’ he said. Pearl understood at once. She'd been sheltered from the Talk, living on the farm again. She'd put aside fine ways and dealing with the pretensions of the families living together in the old manse. Life on the farm was free and easy, compared to life with the Tooks of the Smials. 

She smiled. ‘My mother has always taught us, Home is where your husband is,’ she said with a glance at Eglantine.

 ‘I’m sorry, Missus, I must beg to differ,’ Isumbold said with a smile, not taking his eyes from Pearl. ‘Indeed, I believe the old saying is, Home is where your treasure is. ’

 ‘I believe you have the right of it,’ Eglantine said softly. ‘Indeed.’