Chapter Three - Children Everywhere

“Hello, cousin!” Fiodrin gave Paladin a fierce hug, “It’s always good to see you!” Then he saw the children. “Gracious me, they’re both getting so big!” This made Pippin smile. Fiodrin looked around, “Where’s Pervinca?”

Paladin was reminded of the absent child. “She became ill yesterday and had a fever.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” came the cordial, but sincere reply.

“Tell me, Fio,” Paladin asked, “where exactly does this Mister Thatch live?”

Fiodrin thought for a second, “Across from the barren moors on the west edge of the town. Not far from the market where he’ll be selling your crops.” He leaned close to Paladin, “I’ve only met him once, but he seems a shrewd business-hobbit to me.”

Paladin nodded. He could be shrewd himself if the moment called for it, but it was only used as a last resort. This was why he wanted Merry and Pippin, and even Pervinca to some degree at the meetings. This would be a learning experience for them; the more they saw first-hand, the more they would understand how to negotiate in business. However, Paladin had an odd feeling about this Mister Thatch.

Mr. Thatch wasn’t one of Paladin’s long-time friends. In fact, this would be the first time he’d met him at all. Apparently, Thatch was new in Michel Delving, living there for just over a year, having purchased the mill from the now deceased previous owner’s estate. Having built up a few booths at the Market, he was now looking for someone to purchase fresh produce from.

Once seeing to Paladin's first two appointments, the three hobbits did pass the Market on their way to the Thatch residence. There were three booths set up and painted with large letters saying, ‘Thatch’s Pipe-weed’, or ‘Thatch’s Mercantile’ where he sold just about everything else. The last booth, freshly painted read, ‘Thatch’s Produce’. Paladin had a good guess as to who might be providing the produce.

Merry observed one young lad behind the Mercantile booth was younger than he was. He slowed down; mesmerised by all the young children behind each booth in Thatch’s employ. They were all poorly dressed, clothes tattered and dirty. Faces in dire need of a flannel.

“Hey laddie!” Laughed one boy, about Merry’s age, “Ye look like ye need a bit of this!” He pointed to a barrel with a label that read, ‘Primo’s Brew’. A chorus of laughter came from the group of boys.

Now aware of his gawking, Merry regained his composure and sheepishly smiled, “Perhaps, but I’m already in trouble for smoking a pipe!” This garnered more laughter from the boys.

Once the well-to-do strangers walked further on, one of the older lads approached the first boy, “Why do ye waste yer breath on them, *Degger? They care nothing for us.”

True to Fiodrin’s word, Paladin, Merry, and Pippin stood on the doorstep of a huge mansion-like hobbit row-house not far from the Market place. The moors across the road seemed to beckon to the lads as they stood beside Paladin. When the door opened a young lass greeted them. “Good afternoon, sirs. May I take your cloaks?” Pippin grinned; he’d never been called ‘sir’ before.

So far, Paladin was not impressed with a fellow business-hobbit employing young children in his Market booths, nor with keeping very young lasses in the house as servants. “No, thank you, Miss...?” Paladin thought to at least put a name to the young face.

“Marla, sir,” the girl said and then curtsied.

When Paladin looked at Marla he was reminded of his youngest daughter Pervinca. Unlike the children at the Market, these children were at least washed and seemed to be well fed. I suppose it would be no good to be greeted by a scruffy and hungry child, he thought. “No, thank you, Miss Marla.” He said aloud, “We won’t be staying long.”

She curtsied again, “Yes, sir. Then the Lord Thatch invites you into the parlor for an early tea.”

Paladin and Merry exchanged looks as they followed the door maid down the hallway. Lord Thatch? They smirked when their eyes met.

“Ah! Mister Paladin Took!” Mr. Thatch rose to greet his guests. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Paladin wasn’t so sure it was a pleasure for himself, but he remained amiable. “Thank you, sir. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you as well.” That remark was more closer to the truth. Paladin next introduced the two lads with him. “This is Meriadoc, my nephew, and the little one here is my son, Peregrin.”

Mr. Thatch seemed to ignore his guest; he gazed about the room as if looking for someone. “Marla, find Lillia and tell her that my guests are waiting for tea!”

“Really, Mr. Thatch, it’s not necessary,” Paladin offered.

Pippin looked up at his father; he was hoping for a few bicuits, but decided against vocalizing it. He got a distinct feeling this wasn’t the time for saying anything funny. It was just at then that the serving lass, Lilllia, came through the door carrying a tray laden with a large teapot, a carafe of milk, and a honey jar along with various kinds of bisuits, rolls, and cakes.

“It’s about time, lass!” Chided the host hobbit.

“Mr. Thatch...,” Paladin began, unsure of how he ought to brooch the subject, but brooch the subject he, indeed, would. “I couldn’t help but notice all of the young children you keep in your employment. Would they be used in selling the product I provide to you?”

Mr. Thatch smiled enthusiastically and replied, “A very observant hobbit! And I’ve already hired a few more in anticipation of opening my new booth in the Market. Have you seen it?”

“Aye,” answered Paladin. “That’s where I saw the young lads--in the Market place. Are there no grown hobbits here in Michel Delving that would suffice instead of using young children?”

Thatch wasn’t a fool--he got the hint that this farmer thought him questionable and would not be dealing with him. “Truth be told,” he said after a moment's reflection, “another local farmer has already visited me this morning, Mr. Took. Says he’s able to give me the supply I will need through to the harvest.” He looked at Paladin, “I can tell you are no simple farmer, sir--you and I are both lettered hobbits. These children I employ--they had no parents, no homes, and no means of caring for themselves.” He spoke as if trying to justify his deeds to himself.  He then looked at Merry, “Like you, young lad, they are all orphans, and I would gladly offer you work in my mill. I daresay it’s hard work, but I would pay you well.”

“Merry is not an orphan, Mr. Thatch.” Paladin quickly interjected, giving Thatch a stern look. “both of his parents are very much alive.”

Thatch gave the other business-hobbit a puzzled expression. “Why else then would you keep a child other than your own?”

Paladin turned to the children sitting beside him on the parlour couch.  He handed Merry two silver pennies, telling him, “Take Pippin and wait for me outside.”

Initially Merry was confused at his uncle’s intent, but then saw the look his uncle gave him, “Yes, sir.” He saw there was a storm brewing behind those green Tookish eyes. Merry took his little cousin by the hand, making his way toward the door and outside into the bright sunshine.

* A/N: Yes, this is the same Degger who makes an appearance in an earlier fic, titled, Irrepressible Pippin