A Visit From Mayor Samwise

Chapter Three: Of Tea and Tooks

"Faramir, my love, you’re the future leader of your people. Now how are you going to be able to lead them if you won’t eat your carrots?"

Estella smiled at Merry and Sam as they entered the kitchen where she was busy baking scones and Pippin was making a valiant attempt to put breakfast inside his child.

"Come on, now, darling, it’s carrots! Carrots! I admit they’re not so nice stewed like this, but they are quite fresh, you can be assured of that."

He sighed and turned away from the high-chair. "It’s not right, a hobbit turning down his breakfast."

Sam shook his head and laughed. "That’s not the way to go about it, Mister Pippin."

He came over and knelt beside him, took from him the bowl of stewed carrots and Faramir’s little engraved silver spoon, like the expert that he was. He pasted a silly smile on his face and popped his eyes as wide open as they would go. Immediately, Faramir began to watch him with interest.

"Look, Faramir, look," Sam cried, "an Oliephant! He’s chargin’ straight for your mouth, he is! Look out! Look out!" He made a squealing noise (much like the Oliephants Pippin had seen, he had to admit) and began moving the spoon about wildly.

Faramir’s eyes danced and darted, following the pattern of the spoon Oliephant exactly. As it charged closer to his face, he let out a screech of delight as only a hobbit child can, then suddenly found, to his great surprise, a spoonful of mushy carrots thrust into his mouth.

Faramir giggled and half the spoonful drained out onto his chin, but then he gurgled and clapped until he was rewarded with more.

Pippin watched with amazement, but soon caught on and manned the spoon himself again, imitating not only Oliephants, but also coneys and a galloping pony. Even Merry took a turn, but Estella refused.

"I’ve no want to be turning carrots into Oliephants, but you go right ahead and keep on with it." She brushed them off good-naturedly.

Eventually, Faramir was fed and as Pippin plucked some stray bits of carrot from his hair, the adult hobbits sat down to have their tea. They talked about much of the news of the Shire, Sam filling in what he could of Hobbiton, Merry giving the details of doings in Buckland. When question arose of what the latest doings in Tuckborough were, Sam turned his attention to Pippin, as he had reason to journey to that area much more often than the rest of them.

Pippin sighed, taking his eyes off Faramir for the moment. "Well…Tuckborough is…Tuckborough, I suppose. There’s not much to be said."

Sam looked curiously at Pippin. No new goings-on in Tuckborough? That did not seem very likely as gossip about the Tooks and their always odd doings provided the bulk of what other hobbits discussed over tea or in the Inns.

He dunked a biscuit in his tea and sucked on it thoughtfully for a moment. "How are your parents doing? Are there no new tales from Great Smials, even with so many of your young nieces in residence?"

Pippin seemed quite interested in Faramir suddenly. He took the child from his highchair and set him on his knee, held him firmly and began to arrange his curls with his fingers.

"My parents are well," he replied flatly, as if answering yes or no to a question of whether or not paint had dried, "And Great Smials is as it’s always been: a joke among the Shirefolk, but dear to my own heart." He signaled the end to his being questioned by taking a long sip of tea and looking pointedly past them all.

Sam was rather taken aback by this response. He’d rarely seen Pippin Took in anything less than a cheerful mood and wondered what wrong words he’d said to bring this about. He opened his mouth immediately to apologize, but then caught Merry giving him a look that told him not to.

Instead, Estella changed the subject.

"What a grand, strong lad you’re going to be," she cooed to Faramir, reaching out to touch him and allowing him to wrap his small fist tightly about her fingers. "And with that fair face, you’re sure to breaking many a young lass’s heart."

"Careful," Merry warned with a smile, "Tooks have been known to bite."

Sam grinned back at Merry as, at last, the dour expression left Pippin’s face and he allowed himself to laugh.

~~~~

After tea, Pippin went with Merry out to the stables to check on the ponies Merry so prized. Sam volunteered to stay and help Estella with the dishes and to keep a keen eye on Faramir, who played busily with his blocks in a sunny corner of the kitchen.

"May I ask you, Estella," Sam began, as he accepted a towel from her and drying duties while she washed, "What that business was before, about the Tooks? Has something happened and I’ve not heard?"

Estella shook her head dismissively. "I don’t know much, Sam, as Pippin keeps his lips tight these days and Diamond is rather close."

Sam nodded. He’d heard talk from Rosie and her friends that Diamond Took was not thought to be all that friendly and that she preferred to talk only with her own relations from up North. A hobbit who chose not to be sociable with honest, kind folk, was seen at worst as rather unnatural, and at best as a bit snobbish.

"But I do know," Estella continued, tossing a glance at the young Took, as if considering if he would let on later that his family had been talked about, "that the Thain’s wife is not as well as one would hope."

"Well, surely, Mister Pippin should be there!" Sam exclaimed, drying a saucer and nearly cracking it with his emotion, transferred to his hands.

Estella looked once more at Faramir, then directed her eyes back to the washing. After a moment she looked back to Sam sympathetically.

"As I said, I don’t know much, but I have not been unable notice that his trips to Tuckborough have come less frequently and more briefly when they do. Pippin’s not one to willingly let on when he is unhappy, but he is also not so talented as he thinks at hiding it…" Estella handed the last dish to Sam and dried her hands on her apron. "One gets the feeling that he is not wholly welcome at the Smials these days."

"But, surely," Sam stammered, "their only son and, most definitely, the only grandson, would be a welcome sight in these days."

Estella shrugged. "I’ve never claimed to understand the doings of any Took."

Sam shook his head sadly. He watched Estella crouch and retrieve a stray block that had traveled off Faramir’s blanket. "Has he not said anything to Mister Merry?"

"If he has, Merry has not passed word to me." Estella replied sharply.

She softened immediately, though, and smiled at Sam. "I’m sorry, but Merry early on made it clear to me that his thoughts about his cousin are no one’s business but his own."

Sam nodded, understanding. Then he reached out and plucked more soft carrot from Faramir’s hair and dusted biscuit crumbs from his face. "Should we give this child a bath, then, and save his father the trouble?"

"You have no idea what trouble you speak of," Estella laughed, "for our lad here is not so fond of soap."

"He can not be worse than his own Da at his age, but Mister Frodo and I, we learned a secret for getting it done."

"Does it involve more animal sounds and silly faces?" Estella rolled her eyes.

Sam nodded. "It may. But more likely bubbles on their own will do the job just well."

~~~~