_{“The more I read these small testaments, the more I want to discover about our lost uncle and his family,” said Frodo.} 

_{“As do I,” said Paladin, as sentiments of the same echoed throughout the group. “Well,” he continued, “with the Yuletide approaching, all we can do for now is put this fractured bit of family back together again and then write it all down as we get the time. I will think of a plan for after Yule, but I can think of no other alternative than to drive to Little Delving myself to learn of our cousins’ whereabouts and who their chief member is.” - Chapter 12}

Chapter 13, Journey to Little Delving

Yuletide came and went as did Afteryule...and Solmath. It was during this period of time that Pippin and Degger sorted through all the certificates, put them in order, and wrote down the names into Isembold’s own family yearbook until his family “caught up” with the rest of the Tooks. From then on, Isembold's descendants would be written into Old Yellowskin along with every other Took who made an effort to send in their family status via the Post. Sadly, Pippin found that there weren’t many Isembold descendents who made that effort after year 1330, and even less after year 1346. After 1370, they virtually stopped. Pippin wrote down his observations and gave them to his father.

The journey to Little Delving had been all but forgotten; in fact, Pippin felt it his duty to remind his father at least once a week about the forthcoming trip. Unfortunately, the many duties of being Acting Took and Thain often got in the way of Paladin’s plans.

For one thing, Maynard Took, the current Thain’s caregiver and general minder, apparently needed minding himself. Paladin had made an unscheduled visit during Afteryule and discovered that Cousin Ferumbras’ bedchamber contained a foul odour, and that his bedclothes hadn’t been changed since Paladin’s last scheduled visit. After castigating the younger cousin about the needs of the infirm, Paladin threatened to give Maynard the sack if he found the Thain in such a state ever again during the young hobbit’s tenure--and promised Maynard that dismissal would be far worse than if he had put forth an honest effort and remained the Thain’s caregiver. Thus, Paladin hesitated to go on an extended trip without first ensuring everything was in order.

The second issue was the weather. True, winter was over and now officially spring, however, the air was still a bit cold. Knowing well that Pippin wanted to come along, Paladin did not wish to subject his son--nor Degger--to the chill environment, despite riding in a carriage.

Paladin knew it was inevitable that if Pippin came along, then Degger would, too. While Merry would always be Pippin’s best friend and favourite cousin, Paladin delightfully observed as Pippin and Degger formed a close friendship of their own this past year.

Presently, in the last days of Rethe, Paladin sat in his office musing on the relationship of the lads; how they seemed to watch over one another. Normally it was Pippin who kept his eye on Degger, ensuring no one took advantage of the inexperienced lad. However, something had reached Paladin’s ears that didn’t necessarily surprise him, yet he wanted Degger to understand that he couldn’t help Pippin with certain things--at least, not in this stage of Pippin’s life.

Hearing soft footfalls in the hallway Paladin looked up, seeing the familiar face of a near-tweenager in the doorway. The lad lifted his hand to knock upon the open door, however Paladin interceded. “Come inside, Degger,” he said.

“Ye asked for me, sir?” asked the lad, standing before the large desk polished to a high gloss.

“Sit, please,” said Paladin, pointing to one of the chairs set before the desk.

“I received word that you were helping Pippin clean his room. Did I hear correctly?”

Degger gazed uncomfortably at his hands in his lap. “Aye, sir. But I only helped him with his toy chest.”

Paladin spoke gently to the industrious lad. “Degger, when Pippin is thirty years old are you still going to make his bed and fold his clothes for him?”

“If he asked me t’.”

“He wouldn’t dare!” Paladin said while chuckling, “And while he remains under my care, he will not. Degger, Pippin must learn that he alone is responsible for the upkeep of his room and no one else. Tina and I told our children that the day we moved in here. The child simply detests cleaning his room. When we lived in the farm smial he performed all sorts of tasks--raked the stalls, fed the animals, chopped wood for his mother’s cooker, or he’d even come out to the fields with me to learn ploughing. He no longer has to do all of that, yet he refuses to keep his room tidy. I don’t understand him sometimes.”

Degger replied eagerly, “Mr. Pippin told me a messy room is really the sign o’ intelligence.”

Paladin burst out laughing. “I don’t doubt Pippin’s intelligence in the least or that he is aware of the fact that he is clever--too much for his own good at times. However, I do doubt his claim that it is the reason for his untidiness. When I saw the amount of books he lugged out of his room that belonged to the library, I should say that the reason for his dishevelled room is slothfulness. The only cleverness about the entire deal is the excuses he gives for putting it off. But no more; I suppose confinement to his room will help him understand that I mean business when I tell him to keep his room in order. And you must not assist him, all right, Degger?” Degger nodded.

“Now--there is another reason as to why I asked you here, Degger, besides that of lecturing you,” said Paladin. “To further protect you from Pippin’s lure I have a few errands for you to run for me, if you please.”

“O’ course, sir.”

“Please go to the Thain’s apartment and tell Maynard that I will arrive at my appointed time tomorrow. He already knows that I have my weekly meeting with Cousin Ferumbras tomorrow, but I am sending you now because I want you to return to me and let me know if anything is amiss.”

Confused with this odd request, Degger asked, “Sir?”

“I’ll explain another time,” said Paladin, “but for now just let me know if you smell an odour.”

“Ye don’t think Mr. Maynard is carin’ for the Thain properly?”

“Very astute on your part, Degger, but frankly, no. Although I have yet to catch him in the act again, so to speak, I am trying to keep him honest. Also, here are a couple of notes for you to deliver to Mr. Weaver and to Mistress May. There are two special days of celebration coming up and I want them to be able to plan ahead. And if you time your visit to Mistress May just right, you might make it to the kitchen just as she is cooling her first batch of biscuits. There now--doing those few tasks ought to keep you occupied for a bit an out of Pippin’s grasp.”

Degger grinned happily, knowing those special days were his and Pippin’s birthdays, just one week apart. “Aye, sir!” He stopped just before exiting the doorway, “May I bring some biscuits back for Mr. Pippin, sir?”

“Yes, you may,” said Paladin, leaning back in his chair and smiling. “He may be confined to his room at the moment, but I don’t have any plans for starving the poor lad. Oh! One last thing--when you take Pip his biscuits, you can also tell him that we shall make that trip to Little Delving two days hence. Everything has been arranged.”

“Aye, sir!”

Degger left Paladin’s office with a spring in his step; not only were there to be parties for both his and Mr. Pippin’s birthdays, but the work on the documents they had been doing for the past couple of months was finally going to pay off. Degger thought perhaps on the return trip, Mr. Paladin would stop in Michel Delving and let him visit Heather and nose about for any lingering Greenhill relatives.

* * *

Three days later...

Pippin very audibly sniffed in the fresh air as he and Degger carried out their luggage for the journey to Little Delving. “Ah! I can’t remember when I last smelt air this fresh! I suppose there is something to be said for being locked in prison,” Pippin said with a knowing look, “It’s something that makes one appreciate the scent of a crisp, spring breeze.”

Degger grinned. “Ye act as if you were locked away in a dungeon for ages! Yer dad only confined ye t’ yer room for the time it took ye t’ clean it. It’s not his fault that it took ye three days t’ do it!”

Pippin replied sarcastically, “Well, it took me all of the first day to figure out where to begin, and when I started finding more and more of my lost marbles, I had to take the time to polish them and ensure I hadn’t lost my edge on shooting. I also had to ensure my wooden soldiers were still capable of fighting off dragons or treacherous Goblins.  Between you and me, it wouldn't have taken nearly that long if the sun had been shining.”

Paladin came up behind the lads hauling his own luggage. “I figured as much.  But what I’d like to hear is your excuse about the four pairs of breeches rolled up into a ball in the bottom of your wardrobe.”

“Those were my favourites,” Pippin simply stated.

Paladin rolled his eyes and shook his head, “You’ll never wear those breeches again, Pip--you’ve out-grown them.”

“Good worn breeches are like best friends,” said Pippin, taking his father’s bag and shoving under the seat of the carriage with his and Degger’s. “I just couldn’t part with them.”

Having placed the hampers filled with apples, bread, cheeses and other finger foods onto the carriage--and after Paladin kissed his wife and daughters goodbye--the threesome were soon riding the lane toward Tookbank.

Two days of riding, stopping, eating, and sleeping, the threesome arrived at their destination just before suppertime, passing the sign that welcomed visitors to Little Delving. The route they took sent them through Michel Delving, but they didn’t stop; they planned to visit Heather and Mrs. Bunce on the return trip. Paladin paid for a room at the local inn for the night; better for them to plan their approach for the following morning, having no idea what sort of welcome they’d receive. The only thing about the trip that had not been “arranged” was the meeting of long lost relatives--relatives that had to know that they had been written out of the Will, as it were.

In the morning, after a few inquiries, Paladin and the lads discovered that Isembold’s descendants lived on the north west end of the village. They rode the main thoroughfare until they took a lane veering off to the left. As soon as they passed a group of trees that lined the front garden like sentinels they noted a sign hand-painted with purple on a white field, “Ivy-Bellflower”, then saw what appeared to be the front part of a large house in the distance. Pippin took in the sight of the enormous house, the garden, the paddock, the fields off to their right that would grow the crops this season.

The main house, as Pippin would come to refer to it, had two levels with several wings that appeared to have been built into it from the back. So Pippin’s view of those wings was fairly limited; he could only dream of how deep and vast they were behind the house. The front garden, Pippin could tell, would become beautiful once the dormant grass once again turned green and filled with spring flora. Four draught ponies were held in the paddock, and to his right Pippin saw a broken plough set off to the side of the nearest field--half ploughed. Being the young farmer that he was, Pippin could immediately see that the damage to the plough was irreparable, as the moulderboard had been bent.

Turning his face back toward the main house, Pippin could now see three hobbits on the front porch sitting in rocking chairs and smoking their pipes. Pippin felt his father bring the carriage to a halt when they came level to the porch. He and Degger followed Paladin out of the carriage seat to stand upon the soft earth.

“Good morning, sirs,” Paladin addressed the group of possible cousins.

“G’mornin’,” they said in return, continuing to puff smoke from their mouths.

Paladin introduced himself and the lads. “We’ve travelled all the way from Great Smials in Tuckborough. Might we ask some questions, if you please?”

“Aye,” the healthier of the three spoke slowly, observing the strangers judiciously as they walked up the path. “All the way from Great Smials, ye say?”

“Aye,” replied Paladin. At a closer look, he guessed these hobbits to be around his age. Paladin watched the thinnest fellow get up from his rocking chair to disappear inside the front door then return seconds later with a solid chair without rocker arms.

Setting the chair to the side facing the group, the hobbit indicated for Paladin to sit. “Real name’s Stan, but everyone calls me Stick,” said the thin hobbit. “We’re all cousins,” he added, nodding toward the others, “That’s Rick, (pointing toward the healthiest hobbit), and this is our cousin Nick.”

Pippin and Degger settled on the edge of the porch which was raised just a few inches from the ground, then burst out laughing. “Rick, Nick, and Sti--,” Pippin started to say while snickering, then saw his father’s reddened face. “Sorry,” they said, realising their blunder.

“My apologies for the lads’ outburst,” Paladin offered in recompense.

The three cousins snickered as well, “Don’t be sorry--the lads got the right o’ it!” said Nick, smiling. “We’ve always been mates. When we were no older than your lads and Stan was always eating but never puttin’ it anywhere, we decided to call him Stick.”

Paladin smiled; the tension in his neck alleviated with these good humoured cousins. He only hoped that the rest of this branch of the family held no ill will toward their distant cousins at Great Smials.

“What sort of questions did ye have in mind?” asked Rick, now obviously the leader of the group.

Paladin felt a chill breeze blow under the veranda. “Well,” he began, puling his cloak tighter round him, “we made this long journey for many reasons, but the foremost is to find our long lost cousins. I have reason to believe that you, Nick, and Sta--, er, I mean, Stick are just a few of them. You are descendants of Isembold Took, are you not?”

“We are,” Rick answered, “Through our mothers.”

Paladin chose his next words carefully. “I suppose you can say that we’re a delegation of sorts. We’re Tooks from Great Smials here to extend our hand in friendship--to reunite our families, if possible.” For a long moment Paladin couldn’t read Rick’s expression. At length, the hobbit moved.

Rick emptied his pipe into the ash bowl on the porch. “Care t’ come inside for a cup o’ tea? A warm hearth and hot tea are better for gettin’ acquainted.”

TBC

_{A/N: Well...what let’s just say I won’t be making any more promises about when I update! I hate it when I’m as late as this with updating a story. What’s the excuse this time? I’ve been on a strict diet of Ibuprofen for the past ten days for dental work gone bad. I can barely *read* a story, let alone write one that I’m trying to tell when my tooth/jaw is throbbing. I hope the reader finds it in his/her heart to bear with me just a little while longer. I was going to update with two chapters as a guilt-offering for making the reader wait for so long, but the 800mg I took an hour ago is starting to take effect and I’m getting a bit sleepy. Look for another update tomorrow or Monday. I am making no promises, though}. ;-)