For Marigold's Challenge #44: My adage was, “Where there’s muck, there’s brass.”

Many thanks to Llinos and Marigold for their editing skills in the face of my computer difficulties.

Dirty Jobs

“G’bye Ma! I’ll be home for dinner.”

“Good bye Pippin,” Lanti said to her only son’s back as he dashed out of the kitchen door, forgetting, as was his wont, to close it behind him. Lanti shook her head. “I’ll just leave it be,” she thought as she turned back to the bread dough she was kneading. “‘Tis a fine morning out this morning.”

What niggled at the back of her mind was whatever could her son be doing? He had dashed out in just this manner nearly every morning for the last two weeks. Mind you, at twenty he was of an age to no longer stay so close to home. Most likely he was off with some of the other farmer’s lads. As long as there were no irate farmers knocking on her door, she reckoned it was all right; he was staying out of mischief. Still, she missed having her youngest child around the house much of the day.

“Well, I reckon it could use seeing to, Pippin.” Mrs. Geribold Took looked unsure of what to do. Mr. Paladin was a farmer like her husband was, but more a gentlehobbit farmer and next in line to be The Took. She looked again at the anxious young hobbit standing on her doorstep. He was certainly dressed to be doing such an odious task. The lad’s clothes looked past well worn and were quite filthy already.

“I will do a good job, Mrs. Took. I’ve done it before at our farm. No need to pay me as much as you might a grownup handy-hobbit. I’ll just do the job first then you may pay me what you reckon my work is worth.”

“Very well lad. The coop is over yonder.”

“Thank you, ma’am, and you won’t regret hiring me!” The youngster gave her a small bow then hurried off to clean Mrs. Took’s chicken coop. Garnet shook her head in wonder as she turned back into the house. She hated to think that dear Mr. Paladin had fallen on such hard times that his only lad was wandering about looking for odd jobs.

Garnet took a small second breakfast out to the lad then elevenses as well. She was just about to take some ham sandwiches out to him for luncheon, when he knocked at the kitchen door, as any worker would do.

“I’m finished, Mrs. Took,” Pippin smiled happily as he spoke. “Would you wish to come look it over, ma’am?”

“You just sit yourself down at this table here, Pippin, and have your fill of luncheon,” she said setting his tray on a small table in her kitchen garden. She wasn’t about to have him bringing the mess and stench of the chicken coop into her clean kitchen. “I’ll go take a look at the coop and decide what you’ve earned.”

He thanked her and set to eating with the usual enthusiasm of a hobbit tween. Garnet went out to find a nearly spotless chicken coop. She had never seen it so well cleaned since the last time she had had the strength to clean it herself. When she got back to her garden, Pippin was finishing his third sandwich, washing it down with a long drink of milk.

“You did a beautiful job, Pippin. Wait here and I’ll fetch your pay.”

He thanked her several times for the eight farthings and then hurried away down the lane.

That afternoon Pippin mucked out a small pig sty for old Mr. Meritius Took then he mucked out all the stalls of Miss Peony Banks’ champion carriage ponies, as her regular stable lad had broken his leg the week before.

Truth be told, there was growing concern on the farms surrounding Whitwell. What horrible thing had befallen the family of Paladin Took that his son and heir was out offering to do the most unpleasant jobs he could find? He had swept chimneys, helped with butchering, cleaned out a duck pond, and helped the local tanner. He had cleaned the muck channels in milking barns, helped deliver a calf, mixed up pigswill and swept up the chaff in a granary.

Finally, the whisperings reached the ears of Paladin Took.

Pippin had started his run down the lane when he was stopped short by someone grabbing one of his braces. He swung around, losing his footing.

“Whoa there, Pippin! Steady now. Get your feet under you lad.”

“Da?” Pippin looked up when he finally felt steady.

Paladin was not a hobbit to beat about the bush. “Where are you off to and what are you up to that talk at the Horse and Waggon is that we are nearly penniless?”

The lad looked shocked. “They are saying that at the tavern, Da?”

“They are. Why else would my son be doing all manner of disgusting dirty odd jobs for the families round about Whitwell?”

Pippin blushed and stared at his toes. His father’s voice softened as he knelt on one knee in front of his son.

“Why have you been doing all those jobs Pippin?”

“I needed some money,” was the soft reply.

Paladin’s brows knit together. The first thought that came into his mind was that his son had fallen into trouble with wagering. It was a problem with many tweens. “You needed money Pippin? What do you need money for that you couldn’t simply ask your mother or me?”

“I need it . . .”

Paladin interrupted his son, tucking a finger under the lad’s chin. “Look at me Pippin. You aren’t in trouble.” He smiled encouragingly.

“It is to buy Ma a gift.”

“It isn’t your birthday Pippin.”

“It’s to be a just because . . . just because I love her gift,” Pippin was feeling awkward. He was a tween now and was sometimes uncomfortable talking about his feelings with his parents. This was one of those uncomfortable times.

“I have been a bit busy with my friends of late and not spending much time with her. I’ve not helped in the kitchen and not helped her in the garden as I used to.”

Tears were gathering in Pippin’s eyes and his father pulled him into a hug.

“That is all part of growing up, Pippin-lad, and your Ma has been through it three times before this. But you are her youngest and I’m sure that is making it a wee bit harder on her.” Paladin rubbed his son’s back a while before pulling back and handing him a handkerchief. “What is it you are wanting to get for her?”

Pippin was immediately more animated. “I went to the wool shop, last time I was in Tuckborough, to see what they might have and Miss Phoebe has the most wondrous knitting wool that she just got in a while ago. It is from Dale she said. She goes to Bree from time to time just to see if there is anything new and different and they had this beautiful wool. It is so soft, Da, that it’s like kitten fur or goose down and she said she’s knitted it up herself and that it works wonderfully and doesn’t shrink very much and is marvellous at keeping off rain. She said it even holds its colour well. I asked if she would set aside some for me and she said she would and let me pick out what I thought Mother would like, but I chose rather a lot of it, twenty skeins in four different colours, and it is frightfully expensive. I couldn’t decide what to not keep, so I told her I would like everything I had chosen and that I’d get the money for it as soon as I could.”

Paladin was smiling, though feeling breathless as he often did with his youngest. It often seemed his lad did not need to breathe like most hobbits.

“I see Pippin. That sounds like a wonderfully thoughtful gift. Your mother will be thrilled. But, why have you been doing such dreadful jobs Pippin? I would have thought there would be more pleasant tasks folks would pay you to do.”

Pippin suddenly became shy, looking down at the ground as he dug about in the dust with the big toe of his right foot. “Well, you know old Martin Broadfoot?”

“Yes.” Paladin knew the old wanderer well, as did every farmer in the Tookland and quite likely in the rest of the Shire as well. If there was a job no one else wished to do, Old Martin would do it. He travelled about in a much repaired cart drawn by an old bay pony whose harness was as repaired as the vehicle he pulled. Martin’s clothes were as patched as everything else; though always clean at the start of the day.

“I was talking to him once and he told me how he had kept his parents living in comfort until they died and how his sisters and their families need never fear being in want. I asked him how, seeing as he was obviously not well to do himself.”

His father grinned at that. Ah the bluntness of the young!

“And he leaned in close to me and said he was as well off as any Took at the Great Smials, better than some he reckoned. He got to wander about as free as could be with nary a care about his needs or his wants. He said he didn’t care for fancies and fineries so he sent most of his coin to his parents, while they lived, then to his sisters. ‘All five of them and theirs live in beautiful holes in Michel Delving, lad. They wear the best of clothing and their tables groan for the weight of the food set upon them,’ he said. I asked him how he could have earned such wealth and he laid his finger to his nose and said, ‘Where there’s muck, there’s brass, my lad!’”

Pippin looked up, a sly smile upon his lips and a gleam in his eyes.

“He said he would do any job, no matter how disgusting, because folk always paid well to have someone else do it for them. When I realized how much money I would need for mother’s gift, I thought to myself, ‘I don’t mind getting messy!’ And so I went looking for dirty jobs that folks around Whitwell needed to have done but didn’t really wish to do for themselves. I have more money than I need for Ma’s wool. I’ve . . . well . . . I’ve had fun getting so thoroughly messy and getting well paid for it instead of scolded for it. I keep my work clothes in the copse just before our lane gets to the road. I wash myself in the pond and then go straight to the bathing room when I get home to get off whatever the pond water can’t.”

Paladin was bursting with pride. He had always known his lad didn’t run from a day’s work, but he had never imagined the lad would purposefully seek it out. He used Pippin’s shoulder to steady himself as he got to his feet.

“Are you expected somewhere today?”

“No, I was just going to do some scouting about to see what needs to be done.”

“Then I think you should take the day off Pippin. In fact, as there are only two weeks left until your studies resume, I say that you should have that fortnight free as well. You have worked very hard Pippin. The talk in the tavern was naught but praise of the good work you’ve been doing, well, that and concern that we were soon to be destitute.” Paladin chuckled. “You say you have the money you need for the wool?”

“Yes Da. I have that and more.”

“Then I think we shall take a leisurely trip into Tuckborough, just you and I Pippin, and get your mother’s present. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful Da! I’ll help saddle the ponies. And Da.”

“Yes Pippin?”

“I have a shilling and sixpence farthing saved and I only needed thruppence for Ma’s wool. I would like to pay for our luncheon.”

“You may do that, son, and thank you,” Paladin replied but his mind was reeling. That was a tidy sum. He’d never thought the old adage to be that accurate.

A/N: A tip o’ my hat to Mike Rowe and Discovery Channel’s program “Dirty Jobs”. In the opening, Mike always mentions how some people’s willingness to do the dirty jobs is what makes living a civilized life possible for the rest of us. I thought of him and all the people he has worked beside for a day when I read this adage.