Chapter 3. Sorting out the Threads

April the 29th, mid-morning

Second breakfast over, a merry party started out from the Great Smials to the high meadow, where the spring flowers rioted and a spring came out of the hillside, icy cold, and ran down the hill to join the Tuckbourn on its long way to the Brandywine River. If Ferdibrand’s wife and children were quieter than usual, the Thain’s wife and daughters and the steward’s family were determinedly cheerful, trying to keep their minds from the fear of anticipated loss.

‘Wish we could go with them,’ Beregrin Took said to his oldest brother Faramir, as they turned back into the entrance of the Smials after waving goodbye to their mother, sisters, aunt, and cousins.

‘The tutor’s waiting for you,’ Faramir said firmly. ‘Father’s working until teatime this day, and expects us to do no less.’

‘I know,’ Borogrin, Beregrin’s twin said. He was the more serious of the pair. ‘We still have the rest of that lay to translate from the Elvish.’

‘Not to mention all those sums,’ the middle brother, Merigrin added. ‘I think we were supposed to figure out how many sacks of seed would be needed to plant the western fields, weren’t we?’

Beregrin groaned, holding his head. ‘I tried to tell Da that we’re too young to be doing such work,’ he said. ‘I hate translating Elvish lays.’

‘What was his answer?’ Borogrin said, interested.

‘He said, if translating twenty lines was too much for one day’s work, perhaps we needed more practice, and thirty lines might be better.’ The three younger sons of the Thain groaned, while the eldest tried to contain his laughter.

‘I’d rather just copy out another song of Gondor,’ Merigrin said. ‘Perhaps about an exciting battle.’

‘Battles aren’t exciting,’ Faramir said flatly. ‘They might be necessary, sometimes, but you always lose more than you bargained.’ He smiled to take the sting from his words, and added, ‘Come on! I’ll race you to the study!’ The old Thain’s study, attached to the Thain’s living quarters in the innermost part of the Great Smials, had been given over to the studies of his sons. Pippin’s study was on the outer face of the cliff containing the Smials, affording a panoramic view of Tuckborough and the surrounding countryside.

Since running in the corridors was forbidden, the sons of the Thain had a fine time seeing who could walk the fastest, ridiculous as they looked, and arrived laughing to greet Telebold Took, the tutor.

‘Are you staying, sir?’ Telebold asked, bowing to Faramir.

‘I’ll stay for a little while,’ Faramir said, ‘just to be able to report back to the Thain that his sons are working industriously at their lessons.’

‘Very good, sir,’ Telebold said. ‘Now, lads, I do believe we were to begin with line one hundred twenty-one...’

***

In the Thain’s study, Pippin turned back from the window with a sigh. ‘Wish I’d taken the day off and joined them,’ he said.

‘It’s not too late,’ Reginard answered.

‘What, and leave you with the work?’

‘I could take the day as well,’ Regi said, but he already knew the Thain’s answer.

Pippin shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, ‘not with the wedding coming up day after the morrow. There’ll be no work done from tomorrow until two days after the wedding, you know that.’

‘Will Ferdi be at the wedding, do you think?’ Regi said.

Pippin was silent for so long, staring out the window, that Regi thought he’d get no answer to his question, but finally he spoke. ‘I don’t know, Reg. We might well be losing him. How long can a hobbit go without eating?’

‘You went quite awhile, as I recall,’ Regi said, ‘back in the dark days.’

‘Ah, but I was able to eat little bits, here and there. Ferdi’s taken nothing for days now.’

There was a long silence, broken by the steward. ‘You told him once that when he goes, you’ll go,’ Regi mused.

‘So I did,’ Pippin said. ‘I’ve leaned heavily upon him over the years. Not sure if I could be Thain without him.’

‘You’d manage somehow,’ Regi said. ‘You always do.’

‘I dunno, Regi,’ Pippin said soberly. He lifted one corner of his mouth in a lopsided smile. ‘At least Farry’s coming of age this year means he can step up as Thain, should I choose to step down.’

‘You wouldn’t do that to the lad now, would you? Just newly wed and all! You ought to give him some time to enjoy himself before loading the burden of the Shire upon his shoulders,’ Regi said.

‘At least you’ve taken on Robin Bolger, trained him up nicely,’ Pippin replied as if he were not listening. ‘He’ll make Farry a fine steward, and he has the same phenomenal memory as his uncle Ferdibrand, as well as the same talent for sifting truth from error in the words of others.’

‘Pippin!’ Regi said.

Pippin smiled. ‘O I’m not stepping down quite yet,’ he said. More softly he added, ‘Not quite yet.’

***

‘Nearly time to depart,’ Merry said to Estella. ‘I see they are harnessing the ponies already and will soon be hitching up the coach.’

‘They still have the rest of the loading to do,’ Berilac said. ‘I’ll let you know when all is ready. No need to rush through your breakfast.’

As a matter of fact, the Master and Mistress of Buckland had time for another cup of tea, and another helping of bacon and mushroom omelette.

‘There,’ Estella said brightly, putting down her cup. ‘We did have time for second breakfast, after all.’ She smiled at the children. ‘Are you ready to go to Hobbiton?’

‘Yes!’ her son and daughter chorused, then the inevitable discussion began.

‘I want to sit by the window,’ little Miri said.

‘No, I do!’ her brother answered.

‘There are two windows,’ Merry said quietly. ‘Miri, apologise to your brother for being contentious.’

‘He was contentious too!’ Miri said indignantly.

‘Miri,’ her father said, and she subsided.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered then added under her breath, ‘but I still want to sit by the window.’

***

Michel Delving was the last overnight stop before Hobbiton, a good place to stop over when journeying from Undertowers. It was a day from Undertowers to Greenholm where the Fairbairns picked up Rose’s growing family, another day to Michel Delving, and now they were starting on the last leg of the journey. Rose and Elanor looked forward to seeing their old home once more, and the children were about as excited as the grandparents who awaited them in Bag End, if not a little more.

‘It looks to be another beautiful day,’ Fastred said, handing Elanor into the coach, then tossing in their two young daughters to the tune of delighted giggles. Elfstan hesitated on the step.

‘Can I ride up top with you, Dad?’ he said.

‘Well, now, I cannot think of better company,’ Fastred said. Elfstan broke into a wide grin and swarmed up the side of the coach, settling in the driver’s seat. Fastred picked up the basket of sleeping baby son and handed it in to Elanor. ‘There we are,’ he said. ‘All packed up and ready to go.’

‘Then let us go!’ Elanor said. ‘They’re expecting us for tea, after all.’ She turned to her sister, heavy with child. ‘Rose, are you comfortable?’

‘Quite,’ Rose said promptly. ‘I could not ask for a single thing.’ She smiled at her husband riding next to her. A healer, Leotred elected to ride in the coach with his wife, the better to keep a close eye on her. He was not completely happy travelling this close to the time of her confinement, but Rose’s sister was marrying the son of the Thain, and it would take more than mere discomfort to keep her from attending the festivities.

Fastred shut the door, nodded to the innkeeper and his staff standing in the early morning sunshine to see them off, climbed nimbly atop the box, picked up the reins, and said, ‘Tally-ho!’

The ponies moved out and the coach jerked into motion. Leotred, by dint of long practice with a well-timed grab kept his young son from falling out the window of the coach as they started forward.

‘What does that mean, Dad?’ Elfstan asked. ‘Tally-ho?’

Fastred laughed. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted, ‘but it sounded fine in the story your mum read to us last night before bed.’

‘It did at that,’ Elfstan said, then, ‘Can I drive?’

‘What would your mother say to that?’ Fastred asked.

‘She’d say ‘twas “May I drive?” ’ Elfstan answered. ‘May I?’

‘Four-in-hand is a bit much for a nine-year-old,’ Fastred said. Seeing his son’s face fall, he added, ‘Put your hands on mine. At least you can start to get a feel for the ponies that way.’ Elfstan nodded, reaching over, and they drove out of Michel Delving and on along the Great East Road.

After a time, Elfstan exclaimed, ‘But I do feel them, Dad!’

‘Do you, now?’ Fastred said. ‘What are your hands telling you?’

‘Something’s wrong with the offside lead,’ Elfstan said. ‘He keeps pulling the rein tight, then loose again. The others have a nice, steady feel.’

‘Good lad,’ Fastred said, well-pleased. ‘I expect his bridle needs adjusting. Something’s bothering him, strap’s not buckled right or twisted or somewhat. We’ll stop and see at the top of the next slope; wouldn’t want to stop halfway up as it’s too hard for the ponies to get started again, pulling uphill.’

‘Ah,’ Elfstan said wisely, nodding his head like an old ostler. ‘Take good care of your ponies and they’ll take good care of you,’ he said.

‘Who told you that?’ Fastred said with a smile.

‘ “Uncle” Ferdi,’ Elfstan answered. ‘His father was a pony trainer, you know.’

Fastred nodded. He’d spent hours listening to Ferdibrand’s stories during the years he’d worked as the chancellor’s assistant, before he was tapped to step up as Warden of Westmarch, probably on Ferdi’s recommendation, though Ferdi always gave the credit to the Thain. It would be good to see the older hobbit again, talk over old times, hoist a mug together...