Chapter 5. Just Before Elevenses: the Great Smials, Brandy Hall

Pippin still stood by one of the great round windows that offered a panoramic view of Tuckborough and the surrounding hills, for the Thain’s study was on one of the higher levels in the Great Smials. (Living quarters, of course, were to be found on the lower levels, for not even Tooks like to go upstairs to bed.) Taller than a hobbit, even Pippin, the window gave him the feeling that he could step out and walk upon the air. It was a curious illusion of freedom for one weighed down with all the cares of the Shire.

Reginard was going over the business of the day, but Pippin was only half-attending. A part of him was still with Ferdibrand, worrying, and another part was wondering at the swift passage of years. It seemed hardly possible that Farry would wed two days hence.

The little group of picnickers had passed out of sight behind the next great hill, and the Thain turned his eye to more nearby sights. The head of the Thain’s stables, Young Tom—still called “Young” though his father Old Tom had been gone a score of years—was working a pony in the ring to one side of the stables. The stable lads had finished their morning duties and were sitting in the sunny courtyard, swapping stories. Lines of laundry flapped in the gardens of Tuckborough; hobbit lasses and matrons with baskets over their arms were coming home from the morning’s shopping, carrying fresh bread from the baker for elevenses, with the nooning meal already bubbling over the fire and sending out its promise on the air.

Everywhere he looked the Thain saw contentment and prosperity. All was as it ought to be. Should he decide to step down, he’d leave Faramir with a well-trained team, pulling a waggon with greased wheels and few squeaks and rattles on a road in good repair. He craned his neck to look to the South, towards Gondor. Perhaps he ought to take Diamond on a long journey, let Faramir have the running of the Shire, a sort of trial for the lad—lad no longer, grown to a hobbit he was. Where had the years gone?

’And then of course there is the shipment of pipeweed from the South Farthing,’ Reginard was saying.

’When was that due to arrive?’ Pippin asked, not turning from the window.

’Some time this week,’ Reginard said, ‘and they will expect payment by...’

***

Meliloc Brandybuck leaned against the fence, watching the young pony trotting in circles while Young Tom turned with him, keeping him on his pace. He looked at the angle of the sun. It was not quite time for elevenses. He had a few more moments before Pervinca would be expecting him at table.

’Walk!’ Young Tom said, and the pony dropped to a walk.

’He’s looking well!’ Meliloc called. ‘When do you think you’ll put him under saddle?’

’There’s time yet,’ Young Tom called back. ‘Wouldn’t want to give him weight to carry until he’s old enough to carry it.’

Meliloc nodded. He thought of the rumours: that Thain Peregrin would step down some time this year when his son reached his majority. He hoped they were just that—rumours—for the Tooks loved to talk and speculate nearly as much as they loved to eat. Faramir was a fine hobbit, ‘twas true, having steadied well from the wilder ways of his early years, but too young to be pulling the whole weight of the Shire behind him in Meliloc’s opinion, or carrying the weight of the Thainship.

’Ho-oh!’ Young Tom said and the pony halted, swivelling its ears. ‘Well done, lad,’ Tom said, walking forward to pat the shining neck. Lesson over, Meliloc decided, and turned away from the fence towards the Great Smials and his waiting wife.

’See that my pony’s saddled after teatime!’ he called to Young Tom over his shoulder and received a wave in reply. The young pony started, and Tom called to him in a soothing tone, reaching for the bridle. 

Before Tom could touch the animal, however, it shied violently and half-reared, taking the trainer by surprise. ‘Steady, lad,’ he said, startled.

Meliloc heard shrieks from the ponies within the stables, howling of dogs in the town, uproar amongst the nearby fowl, and just as he had time to wonder, the earth reared up beneath him, throwing him into the fence. As he tried to catch hold of the fence, something to cling to as the world dissolved into chaos, it splintered and was torn asunder by the quaking of the ground that anchored it. A great thunder was in the air and Meliloc watched in utter amazement as windows shattered in the face of the Great Smials, sending bodies tumbling into the air, their screams unheard, drowned in the groaning of the tortured earth. The world was ending, he decided, even as his head hit something hard and blackness descended upon him.

***

Merry put down his teacup and said, ‘That’s that! Let us be off; we still have to get halfway to Bywater before the day is out.’

’Of course, beloved,’ Estella said, but her husband was not listening to her, she could tell by the set of his shoulders that something was worrying him again. ‘What is it, beloved?’ she said, but her own eyes looked where he was staring: the teacup had rattled on the saucer when he’d put it down, as if his hand shook; but it kept rattling after he took his hand away.

Estella gasped, her hand to her mouth, and Master and Steward followed her gaze to the mantel, where a heavy vase was dancing by itself to the edge and over, smashing on the hearthstones below. Berilac’s cane slid from the wall to the floor with a clatter.

’What is it?’ Estella whispered.

’Earth shake,’ Berilac breathed. ‘There hasn’t been one of those in the Shire since the time of Thain...’

The floor gave a more violent jerk beneath them, and Estella screamed, something Merry could not recall having ever heard from her before. His gaze, however, was transfixed by the view out of the shattering windows.

’The River!’ he gasped. The Brandywine was flowing... backwards. ‘It cannot be,’ he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Pieces of plaster began falling from the ceiling. ‘Under the desk!’ Berilac snapped, and all scrambled to that dubious safety. It was hard to feel safe with the ground moving beneath.

Merry held Estella tightly for some time after the rumbling stopped. Finally Berilac poked his head out from under the desk, observing the ruin of the Master’s study. Books had been shaken from the shelves, ornaments were smashed, the windows gaped, their glass gone, pieces of plaster littered every surface, and plaster dust hung in the air.

’The children!’ Estella whispered. Merry helped her from under the desk. ‘I’m sure they’re safe,’ he said. ‘They ought to have been outside, waiting by the coaches...’ He looked to Berilac and snapped, ’Call Doderic. I want to know what sort of trouble might result from this, what the damage is, how many got hurt and who they are.’

’Right away, sir,’ Berilac said, retrieving his cane from the floor.

’O and send a pony post rider to the Great Smials,’ Merry said. ‘Let Pippin know what happened, and that we might not be able to make it to the wedding the day after tomorrow after all.’

’He’ll be off within the quarter hour,’ Berilac said, and set out to make it so.