10. Waiting

'Meriagrim?' Faramir suggested, fingers busy with knife and wood.

'O be careful there,' his father said. 'You must make the holes exactly where I marked them or the flute will not be true when it's played.' He held out his hand. 'Here, let me see that a moment.'

Faramir handed over the half-carved flute and watched, holding his breath, as his father examined the work.

'I think we can salvage this,' the Thain muttered. He took a carving tool from the leather case on the bed and made a few small adjustments, then measured carefully. 'Yes,' he said critically. 'That's got it.' He handed the flute back to his son, saying, 'Now watch the guide markings carefully, mind!'

'Yes, Sir,' Faramir said, and fell back to his work a little more cautiously. 'Work haste'd is work wasted,' he said, and his father smiled.

'That's right, Son.' Pippin stretched and said, picking up the earlier topic, 'No, somehow "Merry" and "grim" just do not fit together in the same breath.'

'How about Meriadin, then?' Faramir chuckled. 'He's certainly living up to that at the moment.'

'Ah, his tea's a bit late is all,' Pippin said. 'Believe you me, I feel the same way sometimes.'

'But you never yell,' his son answered.

The Thain smiled. 'Of course not,' he said. 'You want to save your yell for something really important.'

'Like what?' Faramir asked absently.

'I haven't found anything that important yet,' Pippin said, 'but when I do I'll be sure to let you know.'

There was a tap on the door and Sandy entered with the tea tray. 'Sorry tea's a bit late, Sir,' the servant said. 'There was a ruckus in the kitchen.'

'O?' asked the Thain, mildly.

'Aye, seems the cook's misplaced the measuring spoons.'

The Thain glanced over at his son, who was absorbed in a tricky bit of carving, though a smile quirked the corner of the young one's mouth. 'Well that ought to make the job more interesting,' he said. 'Seems to me as if the cook might want a bit of stirring up, sometimes. We've had ham three times this week already.'

Sandy handed the Thain his cup of tea, black and strong as he liked it, with no sweetening. 'Would you like your tea now, young master?' he asked Faramir.

The lad shook his head. 'No, I'll get it in a minute,' he answered absently.

'Very well, Sir. Will that be all?' Sandy said, straightening.

'Yes, Sandy, very good, thank you. You may come and take the tray away later, we'll help ourselves,' the Thain said. The servant bowed and left to take the Thain's message to the head cook. No more ham for at least another week.

'Funny how things go missing, you'd think the kitchen staff would be more careful where they put things after washing up,' Pippin mused aloud.

'O aye,' his son agreed, still working assiduously.

Pippin leaned back on the pillows with a sigh. 'Ah, well, as long as they don't get so careless as to switch the salt with the sugar,' he said. 'I couldn't abide sugar on my eggs in the morning.'

'O I'm sure they wouldn't do anything that would truly inconvenience you, Father,' Faramir answered. He put his tool down for a moment to share a mischievous smile with the Thain.

Another tap came on the door, and Reginard poked his head in at the Thain's answer.

Pippin smiled at Faramir. 'That's all for now, Faramir. We'll work on it some more this evening, I think, if naught else interrupts us.'

'Yes, Sir,' the lad said, carefully fitting each carving tool into its proper place in the case and putting the flute and tool case up on a shelf, and coming back to stand at attention by the bed.

The Thain smiled at his son. 'Next I think you ought to take Socks for an outing,' he said. 'We wouldn't want that old pony to get stale, now, would we? He might start switching the labels on the spice jars, and if the cooks didn't notice dinner might not be edible this night.'

Laughing, the lad answered, 'Yes, Father,' and walked from the room, a bounce in his step.

The two grown hobbits watched him go with fond smiles. The Thain sighed and shook his head. 'Does he look taller to you?'

'He's growing,' Reginard agreed. 'Maybe he's found some of those Ent-draughts you like to tell about.' He rolled out the plans he'd brought with him, smoothing them in the Thain's lap. 'Here's what we came up with for spring planting,' he said. 'Thought we'd do some crop rotation in this section, production was off a bit last year and...'

Once the Thain had approved the plans, Reginard rolled the paper up again and fastened it with a piece of twine. 'I'll get right on't,' he said, then poured himself a cup of tea. 'You want one of these cakes?' he said.

'Is it seedcake?' Pippin asked.

'No, looks like cherry tart,' was the answer.

'I'll just have a sandwich instead,' the Thain said, and his steward made a mental note to tell the kitchen that seedcake should be added to tea trays until future notice.

Reginard helped himself to a couple of tarts and sat down again. The Thain had the faraway look again, that Regi had seen once in a wild bird trapped in a cage, pining for the sky. To distract him, the steward said, 'So, cousin, does that wee babe have a name yet?'

Pippin smiled and sipped at his tea. 'No, we've managed to eliminate a few more, though,' he said.

'It's nearly a month since his birth; his naming day's coming up soon,' Regi said. 'What are you going to do?'

'He might always answer to "Hoi! You there!" ' Pippin answered.

'There's always that,' Regi conceded, taking a bite of his tart. 'Mmmm, these are good,' he said, 'are you sure you don't want one?'

'No, thank you, I'm fine,' the Thain said, laying aside his sandwich after only a bite or two.

Reginard didn't ask after the leg. He knew very well; he grilled the healers after each day's exercise session. Instead he said, 'Your wife told me to make sure you eat every scrap of food on the tray today.'

'Ah, sending you to do her dirty work for her, eh?' Pippin said equably with another sip of his tea.

'O aye,' Regi said, 'and she'll have my hide if there's food on the tray when it goes back to the kitchen.

'I suppose you'll have to help me eat it, then,' the Thain answered. 'If I try to take another bite, I'll choke.' His eyes regained their faraway look and he sighed. 'Sure wish these rooms weren't so far inward,' he said absently. 'I'd dearly like to have a look out a window.' Then he recalled himself and sat straighter. 'Well, now,' he said. 'We need to start laying plans for the Mid-year's celebration. It'll be upon us before we know it. Here it is nearly May already.'

'You're right,' Reginard said, seizing on the new topic whilst his mind was busy with other things.

'What kind of shape is the track in?' the Thain asked. 'We want the ponies to have a good surface to run on, when race day comes...'