Chapter 14, Lost and Found

_{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.” - Chapter 13}

Although the weather had stayed nice throughout their journey, the wind began to turn cold again. Paladin nodded to Rick, “That would be splendid, thank you!” Hot tea would be a welcomed warmth for Pippin, as Paladin often blamed the cold and moist weather for Pippin’s illnesses.

Paladin, Pippin, and Degger trailed the three cousins inside the house. Rather than an enormous foyer that would befit a house of this size, Paladin and the lads stood inside a small entry that opened to a simple parlour. Judging by the exterior of the house, Paladin thought for certain that these hobbits were fairly well-off, however, nothing of the interior chattel necessarily proved that theory. Nothing was overly ornate inside the parlour, nor was it worn or tattered. Any forethought that Paladin had of this family or their home was gone. He didn’t know what to think; would they indeed be indignant toward Tooks from Great Smials, or would these seeming unpretentious hobbits welcome them? Paladin could not send a letter ahead of their visit because he had no idea where these Tooks lived in Little Delving, nor to whom he should write.

Rick stepped away from the group while they settled into chairs or on the couch. Moments later he returned with several matrons on his heels. He introduced them all as his wife, Lilly, Nick’s wife, Sada, Stan’s wife, Flora, and Rick’s sister, Rosemary.

“Lilly and my sister are goin’ t’ bring us some tea, bread and cheese--a little something t’ hold us over til elevenses.”

“Sounds lovely,” said Paladin, offering a smile, albeit an uneasy one, still unsure of how Rick had taken his earlier proposal to reunite the Tooks of Great Smials and the descendents of Isembold Took.

“We knew somebody would eventually come knockin’ on our door,” said Rick, as he sat in his chair and refilled his pipe. As he puffed on the embers, he stole a few glances toward one of his younger guests. He noted that there was something strangely familiar about the older lad, but he kept his suspicions to himself. “Didn’t know when they’d come knockin’, but we knew it would happen,” he said aloud.

“We didn’t begrudge them, mind,” Nick explained, “but we just never understood why our relations in Great Smials wanted nothin’ t’ do with us.”

“Well, we had our guesses,” Stan added, “and they boiled down t’ two thin’s; money an’ position. We may be simple, but we aren’t simple-minded--every one o’ us is lettered. We may not sound like scholars such as them back in Tuckborough, but the children of Isembold know a thin’ or two about the nature o’ Tooks.”

Paladin sighed softly. “Do you begrudge my lads and I calling on you this morning?” he asked.

“No,” Rick shook his head, “yet we’re curious as to what brought ye t’ our doorstep. The last Took from Great Smials t’ visit Ivy-Bellflower was Uncle Isengar back when I was but a tween. He brought Aunt Mira a couple o’ times b’fore she married a fellow yonder over the Brandywine.”

A smile spread across Paladin’s face with discovering they indeed had something--or someone in common. “I knew Uncle Isengar and Aunt Mira very well,” he said.

For a while they took turns recounting stories about Isengar and his adventures at sea and abroad while Pippin and Degger sat listening to the old tales. In the meantime, Lilly and Rosemary brought out the food and tea then sat down near Rick to listen and visit. After they sat, Paladin noted that both matrons fixed their eyes upon one of the visiting children.

Without further ado, all the hobbits set to the meal and continued their exchange. Having got to know one another a wee bit through shared recollections, Paladin drummed up the courage to ask the one question that had been niggling at him since before Yule. He lifted his teacup to drink from it, then hesitated. “Are you the head of this family?” he asked Rick.

Rick shook his head in reply. “We’ve not had a head o’ the family since Uncle Digg passed away a few years ago.” Here, Rick stole another glance at Degger. “He left no sons b’hind, just a couple o’ daughters--but my mum could tell ye more about all o’ Isembold’s lasses than I. She’s more or less become the matriarch o’ the family, so t’ speak, bein’ she’s nigh t’ one-hundred-and-four years old.”

Pippin and Degger raised their eyebrows and smiled. Bilbo had been the only hobbit Pippin had ever known that had lived more than one-hundred years. Degger knew of Mr. Bilbo, but had never met him.

“Our lads will be comin’ in from ploughin’ the fields soon,” said Rick, “and the lasses from their chores in the barn. Why don’t ye folk stay and have elevenses with us an’ then we’ll pay a visit with my mum after?”

Not long after Rick extended the invitation, young hobbits in their teens and tween could be heard entering the house. A lively discussion could be heard taking place in back of the centre hallway between the lads and lasses.

The group stopped in the doorway of the parlour, but did not enter. “Dad! Daisy says she can plough a field faster than me!” said a lad seeming to be round Pippin’s age.

Rosemary and Lilly gave reproving looks to the lass, but Rick laughed. “She probably could, Sam! Yer cousin Vera’s got a couple o’ years on ye.” He briefly introduced the children to the visiting Tooks and then said, “Now all ye children go an’ wash up for elevenses. Sam, take our young guests with ye.” He looked over to Paladin, “We’ll use the wash basin in the kitchen.”

Once the children had left, Paladin followed Rick’s lead and stood to his feet. Putting his hands in his pockets, he boldly asked, “Tell me, Rick--what do you and Lilly find so fascinating about my lad, Degger? Don’t assume that I didn’t see the glances and the looks between you.”

“Well,” Rick replied, his hands also fumbling round inside his pockets, “T’ be honest...I don’t think the lad is yers.”

“Pardon?” Paladin wondered at the audacity of this hobbit. “Perhaps I didn’t hear you correctly.”

“Ye heard correctly,” said Rick. “The lad Degger--he isn’t blood t’ ye, is he?”

Paladin shrugged his shoulders impassively. He recalled giving only his surname with his own introduction, figuring the lads’ could be deduced as time went on. “Does it matter? Will he be excluded from meals because he is a Greenhill and not a Took?”

“That’s where ye’re wrong, Cousin,” answered Rick, his face lit up noticeably. “He may be a Greenhill by name, but that lad is definitely a Took.”

“Don’t be absurd!” Paladin shot back, “First you tell me he isn’t my blood kin, then in the next breath you tell me he’s a Took. For your information, my son, nephew, and I found Degger living in a dark alley in Michel Delving seven years ago almost to the day. I will concede that the names Diggory and Degger sound similar, but have no bearing on the heritage of the individuals.”

“It’s not just the names, my friend,” said Nick, now speaking up. “I think you’ll understand what we’re sayin’ when we visit Auntie Bettie after elevenses.”

“What does your Auntie Bettie have to do with my Degger?” demanded Paladin.

“Ye have t’ see her t’ believe it,” answered Nick.

After their odd conversation, Paladin wasn’t so sure he wanted to visit Auntie Bettie--nor was he very hungry for elevenses. However, he did eat enough to allay any uncertainties about his appetite. Pippin, still in his growth spurt, ate four servings--just as any other healthy near-fourteen year old lad would. Degger, slowing down from his growth spurt as he approached tweenhood, ate the standard two-plus helpings in addition to two large slices of apple pie for afters.

A range of conversations were going on all at once round the table between the youngsters and adults alike while filling up the corners. Paladin heeded none of them, as he had much on his mind.

“Sam wants to take me and Degger to see their draught ponies in the paddock after this,” Pippin said to his father.

“It seems we’re going to visit Cousin Rick’s mother after elevenses,” Paladin quietly replied to his son. “You can look at the ponies afterward.”

“Wait until I write Frodo and tell him they have a Sam here, too,” Pippin sniggered. “Sam will be so surprised!”

“That’s nice,” answered Paladin rather absently.

“What’s wrong, Papa?”

“Just things on my mind, is all,” he said, then ate his last bite of pie.

“What sort of things?”

Before Paladin could answer his son--even if he could articulate it--Rick, and his cousins broke off from their discussions and stood up. “Are ye comin’ with us?” Rick asked Paladin and the lads.

Paladin wiped his mouth with his napkin, “Aye. We’ll all come.”

“Good! We’ll find her in the back garden gettin’ a whiff of fresh air,” said Rick, “We’ll go through the Grand Hall behind the parlour.”

A few of Stan and Rick’s children followed along as they wound their way back toward the parlour, past it, and then entered the Grand Hall. The Grand Hall was basically an enormous room filled with decorative vases, simple wall mirrors framed in wood. A large chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling and a few tapestries hung from the walls, but mostly the walls were filled with sketches and paintings of various hobbits, young children, teen-aged children, old hobbits, and those in between. There were a few large paintings of entire families.

“This room is the only one like it in this house,” explained Nick. “The tapestries were woven by our Aunt Dillie, and the vases were made by Aunt Dina. The portraits are the only items we hired an outside artist t’ do. This is a drawin’ of my oldest lass, Rosa.”

“And here’s a paintin’ of my family,” said Stan, standing behind them. In the painting sat a hobbit in a chair surrounded by his wife and six children; two lads and four daughters.

Rick stood off to the side near the double doors that opened to the back garden, arms crossed and a bit of a smug grin on his face. “And here’s an old paintin’ o’ my mum from when she was younger.”

Paladin turned from one painting or sketch to the other, then finally whirled round to look at the portrait of the lady whom Nick referred to as Auntie Bettie. When Paladin laid his eyes upon the lady in the painting, the air in his lungs suddenly vanished. He felt as if the world had suddenly turned upside-down.

The lady in the painting looked as if she could have been Degger’s mother, sister, aunt, or first cousin. They shared the same arched eyebrows, the roundish nose and deep-set brown eyes--even the same thoughtful expression. At any rate, Paladin wasn’t ready to cave in to Rick’s assertion just yet--there were far too many doubts and questions.

“Admit it, Cousin--I’m right about your lad.”

All the mysteries surrounding that fateful trip to Michel Delving so many years ago flooded Paladin’s memory; Merry’s fantastical experience along with the chance meeting of a very lonely and orphaned thirteen-year-old lad. And now, years later, Paladin finds himself standing in the hall of family portraits belonging to cousins he’d never known before this day while staring at the portrait of a handsome matron. Not just any matron--the youngest daughter of his Great-Uncle Isembold, who, by-the-by, just happened to look like a the first edition to Degger. Degger?  Yes, Degger!  Paladin felt his legs give way from underneath him and he plopped down hard upon his backside, leaning against the wall.

“Papa!” Pippin shouted fearfully, both he and Degger ran to his side.

“He’s all right, laddies,” said Rick, fanning the dazed hobbit with his pocket handkerchief. “He’s just feelin’ a bit overwhelmed at the moment. Sam, go an’ fetch a cup o’ water for our cousin.”

Paladin looked at Rick breathlessly, his skin paler than normal. “You...you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Aye, I did. I wanted ye t’ think about what I said earlier.”

“That painting doesn’t validate anything--it just proves that they look similar to each other,” Paladin answered unconvincingly. Actually, he was very curious and wanted to know answers, if nothing else, for Degger’s sake. “All hobbits in the Shire are cousins to somebody to some degree," he argued, "Some of us are bound to look alike.”

At that moment, Young Sam returned with the requested cup of water, giving it to his father, who in turn, helped Paladin to take a drink. “If ye’re feelin’ better,” said Rick, “then let’s get ye up and we’ll walk out t’ my mum’s favourite spot in the garden.”

The group ambled at a leisurely pace toward the garden while Pippin and Degger walked on either side of Paladin to help keep him steady. Paladin felt fine, but he indulged the lads by reaching an arm round each of them.

“There she is,” said Rick, “over by the that bare patch o’ earth. All o’ her attendants with her, too.”

“All?” asked Paladin, squinting in the daylight. “How many does she need?”

“Only one,” Rick replied, “but the young lasses love her. I can’t have all my daughters and cousins waitin’ on her all at once, so I keep two on hand, and the rest have t’ wait until their turn comes up.  Still, they like t' spend the afternoon in the garden with her.”

Paladin shook his head in shame. “I have trouble getting just one lad to tend to Cousin Ferumbras.”

“That is sad. We got news ’bout the Thain’s malady back round Yule,” said Stan. “Who’s sittin’ in for him?”

Paladin quietly answered, “I am.”

Rick stopped in his tracks. “Ye?”

“Aye.”

“Ye’re the Took and the Thain?” Rick asked incredulously.

“Acting Took and Thain,” Paladin corrected his cousin.

“So, ye’re not just a Took cousin sayin’ ye’re goin’ t’ reunite the families, then go home t’ yer own family an’ forget ‘bout ev’rythin’ the moment ye’re feet are warmin’ in front o’ the hearth?”

Paladin shook his head. “No.”

A sincere smile spread slowly across Rick’s face. “Good.”

TBC