_{“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.” - Chapter 14}

Chapter 15, A Tangled Web of Riddles

Everyone settled themselves on benches near to Auntie Bettie while Degger and Pippin made themselves comfortable upon the grass nearer to Paladin. Young Degger took note that it wasn’t Rick staring at him this time, but it was Aunt Bettie herself. She said nothing to him, however.

He heard Rick loudly clear his throat to take his mum’s attention off of the teenaged lad. “As ye can see, Mum,” Rick said, “We have visitors.” He next introduced them, carefully enunciating Degger’s full name for his elderly mother, whose hazel eyes darted to meet her son’s in looking for affirmation. It hardly went unnoticed that she gently placed her hand upon her Rick’s, as if hoping for something.

Degger felt the aging lady’s gaze upon him. A bit self-conscious over all of the scrutiny toward him, he did his best to look in the other direction to avoid her gaze.

“Sam, take our young friends an’ play a game o’ foot-ball in the field yonder,” Rick suggested to his son, although Degger sensed it was more than a mere suggestion. “I’m sure they’re growin’ bored with all this grown-up chatter.”

“But Dad!” Sam replied in dismay, “Gran’ma is goin’ t’ tell her stories.”

“Not right off, she isn’t,” said Rick, ruffling his son’s auburn curls. “When she gets t’ tellin’ her tales, I’ll be sure t’ call ye children over so ye can listen.”

“Oh, very well,” said Sam while getting up. The foot-ball game was one of Sam’s favourite play-activities so he wasn’t entirely unhappy about the situation. “C’mon, Pippin...Degger.”

Paladin gave his lads a slight nod to let them know he was in agreement with Rick.

As Pippin and Degger sauntered behind Sam, Pippin nudged the older teen, speaking in a low tone, “The more we linger here at Ivy Bellflower, the stranger this visit seems to get.”

“Aye,” Degger replied in a whisper that only his friend could hear. “I just wish they would stop gawpin’ at me.”

“I’ve saw all that!” Pippin exclaimed. “I’ll wager Papa noticed as well.”

“I just wonder what’s so interestin’ ’bout me that makes’em want t’ stare.”

A mischievous gleam came into Pippin’s bright green eyes. “They all think you’re a just a precious dumpling!” he said while patting Degger’s cheek. The cynical expression on Degger’s face made Pippin laugh.

“Kick it!” Sam shouted as he kicked a ball toward the two lads. At once, all three lads were engaged in kicking the ball while trying not to miss it as it was kicked toward him. In this game, they each started out with ten points. If a lad broke the volley by missing the ball, then he lost a point. The game was over when the first player reached zero. The player with the most points won.

Pippin and Sam proved to be the better dribblers. “You’re not concentrating, Degger,” Pippin said to his friend. But no matter how many tips or amount of encouragement Pippin gave the older (and less experienced) teen, Degger seemed to miss almost every other ball. In the end, Degger was the first player to lose all ten of his points.

“I win!” Sam yelled out while dancing a victory jig.

“No, you don’t,” said Pippin, “It’s a draw; we both missed twice.”

“True, but since I own the ball I declare myself t’ be the victor,” Sam replied smugly.

Pippin merely shook his head; he wasn’t going to argue with that lopsided logic. Besides, these Took descendants were indeed proving to be quite odd as time went on.

Despite that, so fervent had the lads been in playing the game that no one heeded the pair of lasses walking up the incline of the back garden.

“You don’t own the ball!” laughed the tall lass, “No one does. Uncle Rick purchased it for all of the children to play with, if I remember rightly. That’s why it’s stored in the children’s playhouse outside.”

“You see,” said the second lass, “our cousin usually loses to his older lad-cousins, so you really must forgive Sam’s zealous behaviour.”

Noting the lasses speech wasn’t the same as Sam’s, Pippin became curious. “You live here at Ivy Bellflower?”

Both lasses giggled. “No,” the first lass spoke up. “Well, not really. We live in Nobottle, but our mother brings us here on occasion.” The lass flushed a bit, hesitated as if she would go on, but then decided against speaking her thoughts. Instead she introduced herself. “My name is Thistle Hornblower, and this is my younger sister, Camomile.”

“Cammy, if you please,” said the second lass with a curtsy. “And coming up the hill is our youngest sister Holly with our mother.”

Pippin and Degger bowed in courtesy. Pippin spoke first, “My name is Peregrin Took, but everyone generally calls me Pippin, and this is my friend, Degger Greenhill.”

“Greenhill? And where do you come from?” asked Thistle.

“Great Smials.”

“Mother!” Thistle turned to the matron walking up the crest of the knoll with a young teenaged lass trailing her. “We have visitors at I-B all the way from Great Smials!”

As soon as Thistle’s mother laid her eyes on him, Degger again felt the scrutiny of a stranger’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” the lady said after a while. “Please forgive my ill manners. For a moment...I thought ye were someone I knew.” She smiled nervously. “Ye’ve already met my oldest daughters, and this is my youngest, Holly. And my name is Layla Hornblower, although my maiden name was Took.”

Degger thought to break the tension just a bit by making small talk. “That’s funny--my mum’s name was Gayla.”

Degger saw the lady’s face turn white.

“Ye...ye grew up at Great Smials?” Layla asked the lad, a bit of hesitation in her voice.

“Not altogether, Ma’am,” Degger answered guardedly. “I lived in Michel Delvin’, then came t’ live at Great Smials seven years ago.

Layla dropped the hand basket she was holding, its contents spilling onto the ground beside her feet.

Pippin listened to the discourse with great interest. While he had been a mere seven years old when that trip to Michel Delving occurred, there were certain names and places that had stuck inside his brain. Being the young gentlehobbit that he was, however, Pippin stepped forward, stooping to pick up the dropped items.

“Peregrin Took and Degger Greenhill, at your service, Ma’am,” Pippin said handing Layla the basket. Then he and Degger bowed again as protocol ordered, but when they stood upright, they found Mistress Layla Hornblower had swooned upon the grass.

* * * * *

“Tea?” Mistress Lilly asked Degger as she held out a large cup of tea with a saucer for him to take. A platter of biscuits for filling up the corners sat upon the tea table in the centre of the room.”

“Aye, thank ye,” the teen answered, taking the offered drink. He didn’t touch the biscuits, as he was barely able to keep his luncheon down. If the same luncheon had been served back at Great Smials, Degger would have had seconds and thirds and then sopped up the gravy with a slice of Mistress May’s freshly baked bread. But not here--not at I-B, as Miss Thistle referred to this place. When Mr. Paladin asked him if he felt all right, Degger replied he was fine. Yet that was far from the truth.

As soon as Sam, and his cousin Holly, ran back to the garden for help with Mistress Layla, Pippin took off his coat to cover Mistress Layla and keep her warm. Degger rolled up his own coat to place under her head...and when he did so, he suddenly found himself staring into her face. There was something very peculiar about Mistress Layla, who had taken her luncheon in her room while recovering from her earlier distress. Isembold’s descendants still found his own face quite fascinating, however, Degger had become aware that Mistress Layla’s face seemed vaguely familiar to him...and he wondered why.

Degger’s hand trembled as he lifted the large cup to his lips. He felt like a bundle of nerves. Coming inside from the back garden, Degger and Pippin (not wearing their coats) were immediately shown to the dining room to get warm by the hearth then eat luncheon.

When luncheon was over, Degger and Pippin sat beside one another on the couch in the parlour with the rest of the family. Mr. Paladin wrapped a blanket round Degger and Pippin, figuring Degger’s shivers was caused by the chill air outside and giving up his coat for a lady. Degger looked over at Pippin beside him then smiled; Pippin was far from shivering.

The younger teen sat with his head leaning back, his eyelids closed, and his own cup of tea leaning precariously in hands which rested upon his lap. Degger quickly reached over to take Pippin’s cup before it spilled.

“Come on,” said Paladin, helping his young son up to his feet. “It’s time you took a nap anyway. You didn’t sleep much last night so you may as well catch up on it now.” Pippin mumbled something about not being sleepy, yet he allowed his father to guide him out of the parlour. Degger remained behind sitting on the couch while Pippin and his father were shown to the guest rooms.

The silence was loud. Only the sound of the pendulum clock could be heard ticking the time away.

Bringing the teacup to his mouth, Degger still couldn’t explain why he was still trembling, however, the more he pondered it, the more he thought it had to do with the excitement of Mistress Layla fainting...or with Mr. Rick and Mistress Lilly boring holes into him with their eyes whenever they thought he wasn’t looking. Just as he once more felt the uncomfortable sensation of eyes coming to rest upon him, the door to the parlour opened and Mistress Layla slowly entered inside.

“How are ye feelin’, Layla?” Rick asked his cousin.

Layla quietly nodded her reply, though she continued to walk across the room, settling on a settee near the window while shamelessly gaping at young Degger.

Degger averted his eyes.

“Layla, let the lad be,” Rick said to his cousin, sensing her intention. He sat in a large overstuffed chair using his arm to prop his head, the rest of his body lazily shifted to one side of the chair as if all his energy had been taken. “The lad obviously doesn’t know anythin’ or remember anythin’.

Degger nervously dared a glance toward Mistress Layla.

“I’m sorry, Rick,” she responded, “but all these long years all I’ve wanted to know is how Taddy ended up buried beside their father. Today we learn that all this time Heather was still in Michel Delving living with a stranger--as her handmaid! For seven years we’ve ached for these children--to know what had befallen them, and here one of them happens to walk inside our front door--”

Just as Layla uttered her last remark, Paladin re-entered the room. He cleared his throat quite audibly to signal his return...and that he had heard what Layla had spoke. Paladin glared his disapproval at her.

Layla excused herself from the room; she wasn’t happy at all with how things were progressing.

“Well,” Rick said, rising from his comfortable position in his chair, “I need t’ see ’bout gettin’ thins from the cellar for supper tonight. Ye plan on stayin’ for supper, don’t ye?”

“Aye,” Paladin replied kindly. He sat down beside Degger, taking the seat Pippin had occupied earlier.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if ye need anythin’,” Rick said as he exited the parlour. “I’ll see ye’re not bothered,” he mouthed to Paladin while their eyes still met, then closed the door behind him.

For a while Paladin sat beside the lad who had become his legal foster son just three months ago. Paladin had a knot in his stomach the size of an apple, having learnt something of this peculiar family in the garden right before lunch. Various emotions whirled round inside his head while he tried desperately to find the right words for what he was about to say. He sensed young Degger was quite tense as he sat beside him. Did Degger understand anything Layla had blurted? Did it frighten him? Paladin certainly felt frightened at the moment. Right now, nothing seemed certain in neither his nor Degger’s life.

All the while Paladin sorted out his thoughts; Degger sat beside his benefactor, stunned, saying nothing as his own restless thoughts wheeled inside his young head. How did Mistress Layla know about his brother and sister? She called them each by name! How did she know Taddy was buried next to their dad? Who was this lady?

Degger’s emotions overwhelmed him when he finally spoke up. He had never gone against Mr. Paladin before now, as more often than not, Mr. Paladin possessed good hobbit-sense. However, Degger felt far too upset to linger at Ivy Bellflower any longer then he had to.

“I don’t think I want t’ stay for supper,” he said timidly, wiping away tears that had formed in his eyes. “That is, if ye please, sir.”

“Degger,” Paladin exhaled a long breath, “I would never force any of my children to stay someplace that makes them feel as uncomfortable as I believe you must feel right now.” Seeing just how upset Degger had become, Paladin gently pulled the teen closer. “Come here, lad,” he said affectionately. Wrapping an arm round the teen’s shoulders, Paladin continued, “But before we make such a rash decision, would you consider listening to a story that I think you ought to hear? Hear me out, and then we’ll determine if you still feel the same about leaving before supper, shall we?” He saw Degger silently nod his reply then wipe at his eyes again. Paladin reached inside his waistcoat pocket to offer Degger a handkerchief.

“Mr. Rick firmly believes you to be a long-lost child that belongs to this family. It appears that Mistress Layla is just as firm in her belief. He and Auntie Bettie related their tale to me in the garden while you lads were off playing a game of foot-ball.

“It’s a sad tale of a young newlywed couple who moved to a big town to find better fortune after a meagre harvest at their family’s home in Little Delving. While others in their family removed to more western or northern villages such as Tighfield and Nobottle, this young couple removed to Michel Delving.

“After a time, the husband seriously injured himself and could never find steady work thereafter. Since they now had young children to feed, the wife went to work at the local mill. The mill didn’t pay much, but at least the young family didn’t go hungry.

“All the while they kept in touch with their family by writing letters, for it was a very far journey to make for casual visits with such young children to care for, so visits between were very few. After a couple of years working at the mill, the young mother sustained a severe wound and grew very ill soon afterward. She passed away, leaving behind a husband and three very young children. The mother’s sister came to care for the family for a little while, and even suggested to the father to return to Ivy Bellflower where he would have help with caring for the children, but the father baulked at the notion, saying Michel Delving was their home now.

“Letters to Ivy Bellflower dwindled considerably; it wasn’t unusual for many months to pass between letters from the father to his family in Little Delving. But when six months had passed and not one letter came, the family from Little Delving became worried and came in search of their loved ones in Michel Delving, wondering what had come to pass that no word had been sent.

“They were staggered at what they found. Buried beside the mother was now her husband, and beside him was their eldest son. They had arrived too late and had no idea as to what had happened to the two youngest members of that family.”

Paladin looked closely at Degger to see what sort of reaction the teen had to hearing the tale. He saw Degger use the handkerchief on his eyes and nose for the hundredth time, but the lad said nothing.

“Does any of this ring a bell, Degger?” Paladin asked him softly.

Degger replied in a quavering voice, “I’d like t’ go home, if ye please.”

* * * *

“It’s our own fault,” Rick said to Paladin, his voice heavy with disappointment. “If we had been up front with everythin’ from the beginnin’ the lad wouldn’t feel put into a corner, so t’ speak.”

“I think he is feeling extremely overwhelmed at the moment,” Paladin put in.

“Where is he now?” asked Rick, lowering a sack of potatoes to the kitchen floor.

“I left him in the parlour to get him some tea to relax him,” answered Paladin.

“Will he talk t’ me, do ye think?”

“If I know Degger, probably not without me present.”

“I’d like t’ have the chance t’ at least apologise for how we’ve behaved,” said Rick. “I’d hate for him t’ go home with a sour taste in his mouth toward Isembold’s children.”

“Aye--I can agree to that,” Paladin replied, “but let me talk to him first.”

“Aye, and I can agree t’ that, too,” said Rick. He straightened up, leaning upon the wall next to the sideboard he folded his arms over his chest. “What do ye think about all I’ve told ye?”

“I think that there might be credence to your tale, however, I also believe Degger holds the key to much of it although he doesn’t realise it. He’s frightened teen-aged lad, and rightly so--we’re asking a much of him right now. A tangled web of curious riddles has just been laid in his lap and he has no idea what to make of it all.”

“We never meant t’ frighten the lad,” said Rick. He leaned his head against the sideboard and closed his eyes in thought. “My--I should say our intention isn’t t’ take him away from the only home he’s known the last seven years. I most certainly won’t allow that t’ happen.” Rick opened his eyes, looking straight at Paladin. “But do ye understand the significance o’ his lineage?”

“Absolutely, I do,” Paladin replied without a flinch. “It appears that his mother Gayla was the eldest daughter of Isembold’s only surviving son. But do you understand that Degger has not been groomed for any such thing as being the head of a large clan?* As years go by I’d guide him in how to be the head of his own little family--how to be a good husband and father, but that is a far cry from what you plan to do with him. Degger is far too young to be placed in such an office. He’s isn’t even a tween yet.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rick shot back. “I know how young the lad is. I just want him to be aware o’ what is set b’fore him. I won’t live forever, ye know. Some of the folk here are twice removed from Isembold an’ don’t look at themselves as Tooks anymore. By the time Degger comes-of-age, he needs t’ be able to make a decision.”

“What if he decides against the headship? What if he decides to be plain old Degger for the rest of his life?” asked Paladin.

Rick shrugged his shoulders in a disappointed manner. “We’ll just have t’ sell the farm an’ divide the profit among Isembold’s children as best we can. Because by the time I’m old enough an’ ready t’ take my ease an’ retire, Nick, Stick, an’ I will be the only families still livin’ here. This house was made for many families t’ live in, not just one or two. There was a time when all twelve apartments were filled an’ overflowin’; there’s ’bout half that now. There’ll be even less when Degger starts raisin’ his own family.”

Paladin nodded in acknowledgement, then took the offered cup of camomile tea Lilly had made for Degger. “I’ll talk to him again, but its entirely up to Degger what he wants to do.”

TBC...

_{*A/N: I am interpreting JRR Tolkien’s Letter #214, where “headship might pass through a daughter of the deceased to his eldest grandson”. I have not interpreted it to a “T” with regard to “ancient records or ancestral mansions”, but trust me, I will not cross any other lines that would be in blatant violation of canon, or the Professor’s idea of headship. As the story goes further on, Degger’s wee part will become clearer to the Reader. Thank you for reading! :-)}