Chapter Nine - A Change in Plans

“She never came?” Paladin asked the lad.

“No, sir.”

“Did you remember to tell her exactly where your room is?”

“I did, sir.” Degger went on to tell Paladin all that transpired that afternoon, minus the repartee between him and Carlan. He felt it wasn’t anything worth mentioning.

Paladin scratched his chin in thought, “It could be that Miss Hemlock arrived just before you returned to your room from tea and thought you were out on errand.” He turned to his brother-in-law. “Sara, please excuse us for a few minutes--I really must attend to this matter. Perhaps when I am finished, you and I can sit down together with Merry before supper.”

Saradoc smiled, “Certainly--Merry will be thrilled when he hears about our plan.”

Degger and Paladin traversed the hallways until they came upon the door to the teen’s room. Together, they beheld a small rolled up paper tied to the door handle with a lass’s hair ribbon.

How odd, thought Paladin. Then again, he mused, Degger is at that age…  

“This wasn’t here when I left, sir,” said Degger, untying the red ribbon--and hoping against hope that it wasn’t a note filled with sweet nothings written by a secret admiring lass; it had happened once before. He didn’t mind getting the admirer’s note--just that reading one in the presence of Mr. Paladin would be a bit embarrassing.

Once loosed from the handle, Degger made quick work of sliding the scroll out of the ribbon’s loop and unrolling it. He read aloud, though hesitantly as a novice would:

“Mr. Degger Greenhill,

I must a…polo…gise for not arriving as I had pro…mised. The ladies in my family have a history of severe head…aches, and,” Degger stopped when he stumbled upon a larger word.

Paladin gently prompted the lad, “Break it into smaller words as you did with ‘apologise’.” He was standing behind Degger reading the letter over his shoulder.

“Un…for…tun…ate…ly,” Degger softly enunciated the word, repeating it twice to himself, committing it to memory. When Degger imagined he had it down, he looked to his guardian, who nodded with approval. Grasping the seriousness of the letter, Degger didn’t grin broadly at his accomplishment, though he couldn’t help the gleam of joy that shone in his eyes.

Onward, the teen went, still faltering a bit, “and, unfortunately, t'day I have one of them. I am not feeling well at all. I ask that ye please forgive the delay of this letter and inform Mr. Paladin about my illness. Sin…cere…ly, Miss Hemlock.”

Paladin patted Degger’s shoulder, giving him a brief smile, though Miss Hemlock’s headache niggled at the back of his mind.

“Degger, why don’t you go and spend some time with Merry and Pippin, and then join us for supper, eh? If you see my daughter Pearl about, please send her to meet me at Miss Hemlock’s room.”

* * *

Not only was Pearl about, it was she and Merry who were engaging young Pippin in a bit of fun. Merry sat upon Pippin while he and Pearl made the young teen squirm and cry out in laughter. Pearl stood above both lads, violin in one hand, while gently jabbing at various parts of her brother’s ribs with the tip of her bow held in her other hand.

Pearl bore a mischievous grin on her face. “Now tell me who the better fiddle player is!”

Pippin shrieked with laughter, “I told you already!”

Pearl shook her head in mock sadness, “No, you didn’t. That name sounded too much like yours.”

Now Merry tickled Pippin. “And who is the better flute player?”

“Me!” Poor Pippin wriggled as his cousin and sister assailed him with more tickling. Mere minutes ago, the youngster sat blithely playing a game of draughts while boasting of his own talents--which in his opinion (jesting, I might add) far exceeded theirs.

“Wrong answer!” said Merry, then paused in his merciless tickling just enough to let his young cousin take in a few breaths.

Degger watched the fun from the entryway smiling, letting it take him back years ago to happy memories when he and his own brother and sister would play in like manner. After a respectful moment, he stepped forward. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Pearl, yer dad asked that ye meet him at Miss Hemlock’s room.”

Pearl looked to Degger, “He did? Do you know why?”

“He didn’t say so t’ me, Miss,” replied Degger, “but it might have t’ do with Miss Hemlock bein’ sick.” Everyone perked up at those last few words.

Pearl promptly put away her violin and bow, brushing past Degger as she walked out of the room to meet with her father.

Merry also put aside the tickling; he got up to sit at the game table where he and Pippin were playing draughts prior to accosting the lad. “Miss Hemlock is sick? That isn’t good news at all,” he said.

Pippin was genuinely sorry to hear about Miss Hemlock, however, he couldn’t help but bemoan his thoughts. “One more delay in taking the exam,” he whined. “I should like to get this done and over with.” He scanned the faces of both his friends for a reaction, yet his eyes rested upon Degger still standing in the doorway. “Degger,” said Pippin, “I am not going to invite you into the parlour because you must know by now that you’re more like family than a servant. So you may as well make your own way over to the couch and sit down.”

Degger understood that Pippin was having a jest, however, since participating in the study group the young lad was now even more aware than ever before regarding his social status. He knew exactly how Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin and his family felt, however, not everyone in Great Smials felt the same way as they did--on either side of the fence. Degger would rather be scolded by a younger hobbit-teen over entering a room than risk being presumptuous, which could have detrimental consequences if done in the presence of the wrong person. Thus, he retained the practice of waiting to be invited--how ever formal--or informal--that invitation might be.

Making his way over to the couch, Degger sat down with a plop upon the cushion. “At least ye don’t have the added weight o’ havin’ t’ pass--or else,” he replied to the lads.

Merry sent a worried glance over to Pippin. “Or else, what?” he asked Degger.

“Or else I’m a failure. I hear the talk, ye know,” Degger spoke softly. “Mr. Paladin will have t’ kick me out o’ the study group.”

“You’re not a failure, Degger!” argued Pippin. “My father would have said something to you by now if taking you out of the study group was an option.” However, Pippin clearly recalled his father’s slip of the tongue during his and Merry’s lecture earlier that day.

“Pippin’s right,” Merry put in, “You’re not a failure--because we won’t let you fail.”

Merry and Pippin’s comments encouraged Degger even though all he could think about now was all the studying that still lay before him. He didn’t mind hard work, but dealing with those like Carlan or the Thain began to take its toll on the lad--and started to affect his self-esteem. “Either way,” Degger said further, “I got lots more readin’ t’ do ‘fore t’morrow mornin’.”

Ever the tutor, Merry promptly corrected his ‘student’. “You mean you have a lot more reading to do before tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” asked a very baffled Degger…just before the lights went on. “Oh!” he smiled and then laughed, “I said it all wrong!” Degger became pensive; So, that’s what Carlan was tryin’ t’ tell me…

Little did Degger understand at this point that this grammatical awakening would mark the beginning of an inner struggle he would endure for years to come. “Thank ye, Mr. Merry.”

“It’s just a way of saying things, is all,” said Merry, also smiling. “My mum always corrected my grammar, so I couldn’t help myself just now. But don’t be discouraged, Degger--you’ve learnt a great deal in just a short time.”

More small talk went on until Paladin burst into the room followed by Saradoc, the latter merely shrugged when his son cast him a curious glance. “Merry…Degger--we need to talk,” announced Paladin, then looked to his son, intending this conversation for just a few ears. “Pippin, if you please.”

“Why, Papa?” he pleaded; Pippin loved to be in on secretive information, though he was old enough to know when to keep his lips sealed about it. “I won’t interrupt--I promise.”

“Very well,” his father answered in haste, “but please be quiet until you are invited into the conversation, do you understand?” He waited for Pippin to nod.

“Miss Hemlock is very ill with a terrible headache,” Paladin stated to the small group. “I highly doubt she’ll be able to rise for breakfast in the morning, let alone invigilate an exam. Pearl and the healer, Mistress Besom, are with her as we speak.”

“It’s not serious, is it?” asked Saradoc.

“She complained of not being able bear light or sound in addition to having an upset stomach,” answered Paladin. "She sent a note by way of a servant-lass which prompted me to pay a visit to ensure it wasn't serious, as you said."

Saradoc made a sour face, “My mother used to get those sort of headaches once in a while. She would shut herself in an inner apartment and no one was to disturb her until she emerged, usually a couple of days later.”

“Apparently, so does Miss Hemlock,” remarked Paladin. “I do hope she feels better tomorrow, however, we are proceeding as if she may not. So, now for the good news--if you want to call it that: the exam will take place as planned tomorrow morning.” The young lads all clapped their hands--not so much for the joy of taking a test, but because it would finally be done and over.

“And the bad news…,” Paladin continued, “is that Ferumbras will administer it.”

You could hear a pin drop in the parlour when the lads heard the last part.

“Why Ferumbras, Papa?” asked Pippin, ignoring the fact that he had not been invited into the conversation yet.

Paladin sat down beside his young son, “Because I cannot do it--I have two children and one unofficial ward participating. I should like to keep our integrity indisputable. What is more, I do not expect you children to study relentlessly for too long without anything to show for your efforts. Besides,” he added ruefully, “Ferumbras saw me in the hallway after leaving Miss Hemlock‘s room and I couldn’t very well lie to him, could I?”

“I could,” Pippin replied glumly.

“What about my dad?” asked Merry. He, too, wasn’t overly excited over the idea of Ferumbras. “It isn’t as if I am a legitimate student in this group--I am only here for my part in abetting Pippin’s mischief.”

Pippin shot his favourite cousin a sharp gaze then bit his tongue; Well it wasn’t as if it was completely my idea!

Saradoc raised his eyebrows at his son, “True, but then you became a legitimate student the second your uncle opened his purse, offering to settle up your teaching.”

“Oh.” Merry sat back in his chair.

“I’m sorry, lads,” said Paladin, “There’s nothing for it but to forge ahead--which leads us to something else we wanted to discuss mainly with Merry and Degger.”

“But I want to stay,” said Pippin.

“I am not asking you to leave again, Pip,” said Paladin, placing an arm round his son. “I don’t want you to feel as if we’re trying to exclude you, but I should like for you to understand that what we are speaking of should not be repeated to anyone other than whom you see here.”

Slowly but surely, Paladin had been awakening to the idea that Pippin could easily become jealous of the attention Degger was receiving from him. Yes, Pippin understood that Degger needed help right now with his studies, however, until six weeks ago, Pippin wasn’t used to sharing his papa with another lad (other than Merry) on a daily basis. Paladin made a mental note to ask his beloved child how he felt about it when he tucked him into bed later.

“What are you going to propose?” Pippin asked with a very serious expression to equal that of his father’s.

Paladin smiled at Pippin’s earnestness, then gave Saradoc a nod. Saradoc took over from here. “We’re proposing that Merry become Degger’s secondary tutor--after the exam tomorrow and he graduates.”

Degger looked to Merry, wearing a big grin. Merry gasped in pure delight; his wish had come true--without the dreadful price of having two additional weeks of night-work and morning studies!

“One more thing,” Paladin interrupted the bubbling excitement, “After Merry’s little ceremony, we’re all going on a picnic--and that includes you, too, Degger. We’re all going to need a bit of respite after dealing with Ferumbras first thing in the morning.”

“Ceremony?” Merry asked with great surprise.

“Yes--ceremony!” Paladin laughed at the expression on his nephew’s face. “So, you had better give your best clothes to the launderer now so that you look your best.”

TBC