Chapter the Eighth: A Little Knight Music
in which Sam proves once again his storytelling prowess
contributed by rabidsamfan

"Here, now, Mr. Pippin, I've brought you a nice tray of bread and butter, and one of the lasses in the kitchen hunted out a jar of jam as well. 'Twill make a nice bit of luncheon for you." Sam got Pippin and tray arranged and clambered into the chair that Aragorn generally used so as to be at the right height for conversation with the inhabitant of the high bed. He looked like a fauntling in it, his feet dangling. "Would you like a bit of a story to pass the time?"

"Yes, please," Pippin said. "But nothing that makes me laugh too hard or I'll start coughing again and have to stay in bed even longer."

"Well now," Sam said thoughtfully. "That leaves a good many of my best tales out, doesn't it."

"Tell me something true then," Pippin commanded. "Tell me what Gollum was like. Or," he added quickly seeing the shadow in Sam's eyes, "tell me an old story from the Shire. Tell me a story you know by heart."

"An old tale?" Sam's face brightened, and he relaxed, scooting back into the chair so he could lean against the back of it. "Aye, I think I can do that. How about Tom Tarrytoes Seeks His Fortune?" he asked, then shook his head. "No, that one's too silly."

Pippin frowned and sat up straighter. "Which one is that?" he said. There were a lot of Tom Tarrytoes stories, and he'd thought he knew them all. "The one where he climbed to the top of the beanstalk? I've never heard it called that."

"Nay, it's the one where… well, I'd best tell it some other time, and then you'll know," Sam said, smiling.

"I want to hear it now." Pippin crossed his arms and scowled at Sam.

"Tis too silly. I'd have you laughing and coughing, and then who knows what Strider'd have to say."

"Please, Sam. I promise not to laugh too hard."

"Well, all right then." Sam produced a neat roll of knitting from his pocket, straightened it out to work on and began.

Once on a time and twice on a time Tom Tarrytoes lived with his mother in a small smial tucked up by the river. Now he was a good lad and always did as he was bid, but he was simple, and though she loved him dearly, his ma fretted that he'd never make anything of himself. So one day she gets him out of bed and says:

"Tom Tarrytoes brush up your feet
The day is bright, the air is sweet
So wash your face and never shirk
Today's the day you go to work."

"To work?" says he. "But I've no job, Mother."

"Then you must find one," says she, and sends him out the door with a packet of cheese and bread and a nice bit o' pie.

So Tom he goes across the river and down the road and up the road and over the hill till he comes to a large farm. He asked there for work, and the farmer said, "Can ye chop wood?" and Tom says, "Yes, if you'll show me how."

So the farmer leads him to an old oak that had fallen in a storm and chops a bit of branch into firewood. "Like that," he says, "Can ye do it?" And Tom says yes.

So the farmer gives him the axe and goes off to his chores, and Tom begins to chop at that old tree, singing.

"Chop chop chop
and wipe your brow
you can finish the job
now that you know how."

And by sunset do you know he'd done it all? The farmer came back to see if he'd want a bite of supper and there was Tom beside two dozen cords of wood all ready for the stove.

So the farmer, he pulls out a gold coin and gives it to Tom saying:

"Tom Tarrytoes you've done your task
As well as anyone could ask,
Better than some and good as the best,
So take your pay and go to rest."

Tom took the coin and held it in his hand, all puffed up with joy. He ran for home as quick as he could, over the hill and down the road and up the road till he got to the river, but as he was crossing the river he tripped and fell and when he opened his hands to catch himself the gold coin flew out and dropped into the mud. He looked and looked by moonlight and starlight, but he couldn't find it, so he went on home and told his mother what had happened to his pay.

"Why you should have put it in your pocket!" she cried.

"I'll do better next time," he promised, and had his supper and went to bed.

Next morning his mother roused him up before the sparrows:

"Tom Tarrytoes brush up your feet
The day is bright, the air is sweet
So wash your face and never shirk
Today's the day you go to work."

"To work?" says he. "But I've no job, Mother."

"Then you must find one," says she, and sends him out the door with a packet of sandwiches and three apples from the tree.

So Tom he goes across the river and down the road and up the road and over the hill till he comes to the farm. He asks if there's another job for him, and the farmer said, "Can ye milk a cow?" and Tom says, "Yes, if you'll show me how."

So the farmer leads him to a barn with a herd of cows, and bends by the first with a bucket and shows Tom where to put the milk in the cool spring cellar afterwards. "Like that," he says, "Can ye do it?" And Tom says yes.

So the farmer leaves him with the cows and goes off to his chores, and Tom begins to milk, singing.

"Pull pull pull
and wipe your brow
you can finish the job
now that you know how."

Now it so happened that day that the farmer got called away, and as no one else knew that the cows and Tom were in the barn, why there they stayed, and Tom spent the day going round the herd, singing so sweet he got more milk from those cows than they'd ever given before.

And by tea time do you know he'd done it all? The farmer came home and remembered Tom and when he went to look and the cows were sleeping in the barn and the spring cellar was full of cans full of milk and pails full of milk and poor Tom washing out whatever he could find with a hole on top to hold some more.

So the farmer, he tells him he's done enough and he takes one of the pails of milk and gives it to Tom saying:

"Tom Tarrytoes you've done your task
As well as anyone could ask,
Better than some and good as the best,
So take your pay and go to rest."

Tom took the pail by the handle, all puffed up with joy. He ran for home as quick as he could, over the hill and down the road and up the road until he remembered what his ma had told him.

Sam paused and fixed Pippin with a twinkling eye. "Do you remember what she said?"

Pippin blinked and thought… "Why, she said he should put it in his pocket."

"That's right," said Sam.

Well the pail wouldn't fit, no matter how he turned, so Tom held open his pocket with one hand and poured the milk with the other as carefully as he could, though it tickled. And when he was done he ran for home and came in the door crying, "Ma, Ma, I've brought you some…" but when he looked in his pocket there was nothing at all. "Brought me what?" said his ma, and Tom Tarrytoes cried and told his mother what had happened to his pay.

"Why you should have carried it on your head!" she told him.

"I'll do better next time," he promised, and had his supper and went to bed.

The next day she thought to try again, and at dawn she went into his room saying:

"Tom Tarrytoes brush up your feet
The day is bright, the air is sweet
So wash your face and never shirk
Today's the day you go to work."

"To work?" says he. "But I've no job, Mother."

"Then you must find one," says she, and sends him out the door with a packet of sausages wrapped in bread.

So Tom he goes across the river and down the road and up the road and over the hill till he comes to the farm once more. He asks if there is any work, and the farmer says, "Can ye churn butter?" and Tom says, "Yes, if you'll show me how."

So the farmer takes him to the spring cellar and shows him how to pour the cream into the churn and beat the dasher. "Like that," he says, "Can ye do it?" And Tom says yes.

So the farmer gives him the churn and goes off to his chores, and Tom begins to make the butter, singing.

"Churn churn churn
and wipe your brow
you can finish the job
now that you know how."

And by noontime do you know he'd done it all? The farmer came back to see if he'd want a bite of luncheon and there was Tom beside enough butter to last all summer and take some to market besides.

So the farmer, he takes a lump of butter the size of a melon and wraps it up with paper and string and gives it to Tom saying:

"Tom Tarrytoes you've done your task
As well as anyone could ask,
Better than some and good as the best,
So take your pay and go to rest."

Tom took the butter and held it in his hands, all puffed up with joy. He ran for home as quick as he could, over the hill and down the road and had got a good way along before he remembered what his ma had told him.

"Do you remember?" Sam asked.

"To carry it on his head," Pippin said, grinning.

"Aye, that's right."

So Tom set the butter on his head and walked as slow and careful as he could to keep it from tipping off. But the sun was shining and the day was hot and that butter began to melt, trickling down through his hair and behind his ears and down his back and by the time he got home he was a sight to see and there wasn't no call for him to tell his mother what had happened to his pay.

"Why you should have tied it up with string and swung it back and forth to keep it cool!" she said as she scrubbed him clean.

"I'll do better next time," he promised, and had his supper and went to bed.

The morning came and the stars were fading when his mother tapped on his door.

"Tom Tarrytoes brush up your feet
The day is bright, the air is sweet
So wash your face and never shirk
Today's the day you go to work."

"To work?" says he. "But I've no job, Mother."

"Then you must find one," says she, and sends him out the door with a packet of strawberries and bread and some carrots from the garden.

So Tom he goes across the river and down the road and up the road and over the hill till he comes to the farm. He asks if there's any work to be had, and the farmer says, "Can ye shear sheep?" and Tom says, "Yes, if you'll show me how."

So the farmer leads him to the meadow full of sheep and shows him how to use the shears to take the fleece all in one go. "Like that," he says, "Can ye do it?" And Tom says yes.

So the farmer gives him the shears and goes off to his other chores, and Tom begins to shear those sheep, singing.

"Snip snip snip
and wipe your brow
you can finish the job
now that you know how."

And by ten o' the clock do you know he'd done it all? The farmer came back to see if he'd want a bite of second breakfast and there was Tom beside a pile of fleece as high as a haystack.

So the farmer, he takes one of the lambs and ties a bit of string around its neck for a lead and gives it to Tom saying:

"Tom Tarrytoes you've done your task
As well as anyone could ask,
Better than some and good as the best,
So take your pay and go to rest."

Tom took the lead and held it in his hand, all puffed up with joy. He started for home as quick as he could, over the hill and on but that lamb had such short legs it couldn't keep up, and he stopped to think and when he did, he remembered what his ma had said.

"Tie it up with string and swing it back and forth to keep it cool," Pippin chanted happily, bouncing on the bed.

Sam gave him a look and he settled down dutifully, still grinning.

"Aye that's right," said Sam, and went on.

The lamb didn't much like being tied up with string, and it liked being swung back and forth even less. Tom tried dipping it in the river to cool it off, but it weren't no use. By the time he got home the lamb was puling and green and Tom had no choice but to go and ask his mother what had happened to his pay.

She took the lamb and settled it in a basket to mend and scolded Tom. "You should have carried it over your shoulders like a shawl," she told him.

"I'll do better next time," he promised, and had his supper and went to bed.

Twas only the stars awake next day when Tom's ma decided to give him a start with her song.

"Tom Tarrytoes brush up your feet
The day is bright, the air is sweet
So wash your face and never shirk
Today's the day you go to work."

"To work?" says he. "But I've no job, Mother."

"Then you must find one," says she, and sends him out the door with a packet of potato bread and half a dozen hard boiled eggs.

So Tom he goes across the river and down the road and up the road and over the hill till he comes to the farm. He asks for work, and the yawning farmer scratches his head, trying to think of something for the lad to do, "Can ye break a pony to saddle?" says he, and Tom says, "Yes, if you'll show me how."

Now that farmer had a dozen ponies off the moor, and all as wild as hornets, and he didn't have no mind to show Tom what to do on one o' them, so instead he brought his old Dobbin along to the field where the ponies grazed and used his rope and saddle on the gentle old soul. "Like that," he says, dismounting. "Can ye do it?" And Tom says yes.

So the farmer gives him rope and bridle and saddle and goes off to his chores, and Tom begins to work, singing.

"Into the saddle
and wipe your brow
you can finish the job
now that you know how."

But he wasn't done by ten o'clock, nor by lunchtime neither, for those ponies didn't want to be tamed. Still Tom was Tom and he did as he was bid, and by teatime the ponies were tireder than he was and by sunset do you know he'd done it all? The farmer came back to see if he'd want a bite of supper and there was Tom with the ponies nestled up around him and all of them taking a well-earned nap.

So the farmer, he rouses Tom and the prettiest pony and gives it to Tom saying:

"Tom Tarrytoes you've done your task
As well as anyone could ask,
Better than some and good as the best,
So take your pay and go to rest."

Tom climbed aboard that pony and started for home, all puffed up with joy. But he hadn't gone too far before the pony got tired and he climbed back down and wondered what he should do. And then he remembered what his Ma had told him.

"Carry it on your shoulders!" crowed Pippin. "Oh, no!" He clapped his hands together with delight, and chortled until he began to cough and then had to settle down and have a drink of tea before Sam would go on.

Sam wasn't sure he was doing the right thing, but the story was nearly done, and Pippin begged and promised to behave, so when the lad was settled once more he picked up his tale.

Now Tom was strong but the day had been long, and when he got under the pony's belly and pushed up he could only take a step or two before he had to put it down again. All night he went, a step at a time, over the hill and up the road, all the next day he went as well, down the road and to the river, and it was evening of the next day when his ma, who'd been worrying about him so, looked out the door and saw him carrying that pony across the river.

She ran to meet him and as he'd taken no harm she saw the funny side of it all, and gave him a hug and a kiss and boxed his ears because she'd promised herself she would. And when she'd got him up to the smial and the pony in the stable, she fixed him a bite of supper and told him this:

"Tom Tarrytoes do as you're told
And if you are not paid in gold
Ask the one who gives you pay
How to bring it home that day."

"I will," promised Tom, and do you know? He always did.

And Tom and his mother lived happily...

"to the end of their days," said Pippin, joining in the familiar phrase. He yawned and scooted down into the blankets, his eyes fluttering closed above his smile. "Thank you, Sam."

"You're welcome," said Sam, and tucked up the covers and went off to find his luncheon.