Chapter 3. Change in Store

 ‘It’s teatime!’ Goldilocks carolled as the escort opened the door to the Thain’s study to admit her.

Faramir glanced up from the papers he was perusing, a harried look upon his countenance. ‘It cannot be, already!’ he answered.

 ‘O yes,’ Goldi said, putting down the tray on the side table. ‘Regi,’ she said brightly, ‘would you like me to pour out here, or will you be joining your wife for tea?’

 ‘I’ll be joining Rosa,’ the steward said with an answering smile, rising from his desk. ‘Coming, Robin?’

 ‘I’m right behind you,’ the assistant steward said, and Goldi hid a smile at the eagerness in his tone. Robin had an eye on Regi’s oldest daughter, and Regi had an eye on Robin, and things were looking quite promising...

The two bowed as they took their leave. Goldi had settled into the role of Mistress of the Great Smials as if born to the position. It looked like Farry was in good hands.

Goldi poured out the tea and brought their cups to the Thain’s ornately carved desk, perching on the edge and craning to look over the papers. ‘Harvest figures?’ she said.

 ‘Mmmm,’ Farry answered, sipping his tea and making a notation on the page.

 ‘Looks as if we’re a bit ahead of last year,’ Goldi said thoughtfully.

 ‘How would you know about that?’ Farry said, and she punched him on the arm. ‘Ow!’

 ‘You need to get out more; you’d see for yourself how many of the fields are stubble and which ones have yet to be cut,’ she said wryly. ‘Why wouldn’t I know? I’m the Mayor’s daughter, after all, and the daughter of a gardener in the bargain! Besides which, the head cook wanted to go over matters of storeholes and surpluses and all this morning...’

 ‘Too many of the root crops are still in the ground,’ Farry said, running his hands through his hair. ‘If we have a freeze we’ll lose more than we can afford.’

 ‘A freeze? In October?’ Goldi said. ‘So that’s why you and Regi have the workers in the fields in the rain. I wondered why you didn’t just wait until the rain is over... as it is, they’ve got to dry what they pick as they put it into the storage holes or risk losing it to rot.’

 ‘We have to be ready for every contingency,’ Farry said, writing a note and setting the paper aside.

 ‘You sound just like the Master of Buckland,’ Goldi said.

 ‘They’ve finished their harvesting,’ Farry said in reply. ‘They put their root crops ahead of the hay.’

 ‘You thought to cut the hay first because it looked as if the rains were coming on,’ Goldi reminded him. ‘As they did, starting yesterday.’ She looked out on the grey day, harbinger of more to come. ‘The hay is cut and stacked, safe from the wet, and the potatoes and carrots and all can still be dug out, even if the workers must dig in the mud.’

 ‘I wonder if the Bucklanders will be short of hay this winter,’ Farry mused.

Goldi laughed and dropped a kiss on her beloved’s curly head. ‘If they are, we can trade them hay for taters,’ she said saucily. ‘Now drink your tea before it gets cold! No worries after teatime, as your father is so fond of saying!’

Farry didn’t answer; he was staring out the great round windows. ‘O no,’ he said under his breath.

Goldi followed his line of sight. Looking out the windows, she caught her breath. The steady rain had turned to fat flakes of lacy snow, drifting lazily to the courtyard. Farry pushed himself back from the desk and strode to the window, to stare down to the stones. ‘Not sticking yet,’ he said. He raised his voice in summons and the hobbit of the escort opened the door and stuck his head in.

 ‘Yes, sir?’ he said.

 ‘Call out all the hobbits in the Smials,’ Farry snapped. ‘Everybody with legs to walk and hands to dig. Send them to the fields, to gather as much of the root crops as may be, while there’s yet time!’

 ‘At once!’ came the answer, and the escort was gone.

 ‘I can dig too,’ Goldi said.

Farry crossed to give her a quick hug. ‘Of course you can,’ he said. ‘We all can! And we will!’

***

Elfwine peered at the mares’ tails in the sky, signs that the weather was changing and the first storm of autumn was on its way. They were delivering the last of the supplies to the poor and invalids just in time, it seemed.

The vain search for Elfalas had delayed his delivery of firewood and winter supplies to the old Pilgrim in the herders’ hut. The old scarecrow came out of the hut at his hail, waving and grinning. Of course he always grinned, but Elfwine imagined the grin to be wider than usual.

 ‘Well come!’ the cracked voice said. ‘Well come indeed! Did you come to share supper with an old man?’

 ‘Better than that,’ Elfwine called back. ‘We brought you supper, Ancient One, and many more meals to follow, as well as wood to cook those meals and keep you warm through the winter months, until springtime calls you to your wandering once more.’

 ‘Gracious is the King’s son, indeed,’ the Pilgrim rasped. He bowed low. ‘I am greatly indebted to you.’

Elfwine gestured to the men of his eored, who got down from their horses and began to help the driver of one of the wains to unload his conveyance. The young prince himself hauled sacks and crates to the storage room and helped stack armloads of firewood by the front door.

 ‘Thankee, thankee,’ the Pilgrim said over and again, bobbing his head and clasping his hands together in delight. ‘Gracious, kind and gracious. Surely you’ll join me in a meal?’

 ‘I am sorry, Ancient One, but I must once more decline your hospitality, for there are more supplies to be delivered. Surely you understand.’

 ‘Of course,’ the Pilgrim said, and cackled. ‘King Eomer is kind to the destitute, indeed he is! Who am I to keep his son from charity’s work? Another time, my prince!’

 ‘Another time,’ Elfwine said with a nod. Turning away from the door, his eye automatically went over the fencing of the corral. He stopped. ‘One of the poles is missing,’ he said.

 ‘I noticed that,’ Elfgalan responded at his side. ‘It will have to be repaired before the herdsmen return in spring.’

 ‘The fence was whole the last time we rode here,’ Elfwine said. He turned back to the old man in the doorway. ‘Do you know what happened to the pole?’ he asked.

The old man cackled again. ‘Do I know?’ he said. ‘It is not there, that is what I know. It would take strength and determination to remove it, that is all I know. I cannot tell you where it is now.’

 ‘Ah,’ Elfwine said, and then he thought to ask, ‘Have you seen a Knight of the Mark in these parts...?’

 ‘I have seen many,’ the old man responded.

 ‘This was one afoot, and alone,’ Elfwine said. He stroked Shadowmane’s neck and thought again of Eaglewing, limping into Edoras, Riderless. The King’s son had promised to meet Elfalas on the plain but had been delayed, and by the time he was ready to set out again, his horse had already reached the mounds of the kings, but Elfalas no longer walked at his head. Days of searching had yielded no clue to the whereabouts of his missing kinsman.

 ‘A Rider of Rohan, afoot and alone?’ the Pilgrim said, a glint in his eye. ‘Now that would be a sight!’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Afoot and alone, that’s for Pilgrim, I say; not for Rohirrim, not any day.’ He seemed pleased with his rhyme and brightened again. ‘Thankee!’ he cried. ‘Another time!’ Nodding, he stepped into the hut and closed the door.

Elfgalan glanced at Elfwine from the corner of his eye and surreptitiously made the sign for madness. The son of the King gave a short, quick nod, then turned to call to his men to remount. He was glad to be quit of this place, in truth, and while he would in honour return at some point to accept hospitality from the old man, another charitable deed worthy of a Knight of the Mark, the thought did not make his heart leap with joy.

***

 ‘Weather’s changing,’ Ferdibrand said, trying to rub away the ache in his head, reminder of a ruffian’s club in the long-ago Battle of Bywater.

 ‘Pity, that,’ Pippin said, riding at his side. ‘It’s been absolutely glorious up until now.’ He glanced sidelong at his cousin. ‘Big change, or little?’ he asked.

 ‘Too early to tell,’ Ferdi answered, but from the way he rubbed his head Pippin guessed rather more than less of a change was on the way.

He said abruptly, ‘Would you like to ride in a coach for a bit?’

Ferdi shot him an astonished look. ‘In a coach?’ he said. ‘What makes you think I’d feel better, cooped up in a coach, even one that the Queen has so kindly instilled with every comfort a hobbit could want? A coop it is, still, a trap and a snare! At least out here on pony back a body can breathe!’

 ‘Steady, Ferdi,’ Merry said from Pippin’s other side. ‘It was only a suggestion, not an order.’

 ‘O aye,’ Ferdi said, rolling his eyes. ‘He knows better than that, my illustrious cousin the Thain does. He can order me to swim the Brandywine, but I’m not about to grow gills and a tail to oblige him!’

 ‘It was only a suggestion,’ Pippin said mildly, but the glance he shot Merry spoke volumes. A severe change in the weather was in store, that much was evident. Merry nodded and reined his horse to the side, turning to ride back towards the coaches, the guardsmen... and the King.

 ‘Where’s he going?’ Ferdi said, rubbing again at the ache.

 ‘How should I know?’ Pippin replied. ‘We’ll be coming to Edoras in a day or two. Perhaps he’s asking the King if we might stop over more than just one day.’

 ‘I’d like that,’ Ferdi said unexpectedly. ‘Fine folk, the Rohirrim. Proper respect for good horseflesh and all. Keen eye for ponies. I wouldn’t mind having time for a chat with old what’s-his-name about breeding and bloodlines again.’

 ‘Perhaps it might be possible,’ Pippin said nonchalantly. It would be a good idea, for Ferdi’s sake, to stop over for a few days if a storm were blowing in. Once the weather change was past he’d be himself once more, head pain behind him. Hopefully the milder Gondor winters would benefit him as well. ‘The King is in no particular hurry, and I wouldn’t mind a longer stay in Edoras, myself.’

 ‘Well then, what’s to stop us?’ Ferdi said, affecting cheer though he thought his head just might split open... just might... ‘If it pleases the King,’ he added as an afterthought.

 ‘Yes,’ Pippin said thoughtfully, and they rode on.