The Winds of Change

There was an entrance into the ballroom of Brandy Hall that was very close to a side entrance into the Master’s study, so it did not take very long for Macimas and Longo to reach the room where the trial was being held. Longo swept the view with a shaky arm, inviting his boss to survey an unexpected scene.

The room was full of hobbits taking away all the chairs that had been so carefully set up the night before.

As they stood gaping, a stout, elderly gentlehobbit approached them with his hand extended.

“Master Macimas?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied the Master as the stranger pumped his arm. “And you sir, are whom?”

“Togo Goodbody, Master. I am here from Oatbarton to be the legal spokeshobbit for the accused.”

“There is no need . . .” Longo began, but Togo cut him off.

“No need, you say? Not according to the laws of both the Shire and of Buckland, sir. We are aware that some sort of proceeding took place here this morning, but seeing as it was quite clear, even from what we could hear and see through the windows, that there was no one speaking for the accused, we are assuming that it was some sort of preliminary meeting and not the actual trial.”

Longo thought fast. Going on the offensive seemed his best course of action. “Upon whose orders are these hobbits removing the chairs?”

Togo smiled brightly. “And who are you, sir?” he asked as he grasped Longo’s hand that hung at his side.

“Longo Caskbury, secretary to Master Macimas II. Who let you in here and who ordered the removal of the chairs?”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Caskbury. From what was observed through the windows this morning, you were handling the preliminary meeting this morning.” Togo continued to shake Longo’s hand until the later jerked it away. “To answer your questions, it would be the Mistress of Buckland on both counts.” Togo looked about the room. “I do not see her here at the present, but she had mentioned something about finding her son.”

It was to Longo’s credit that he did not show how thoroughly shaken he was. The Mistress was not supposed to be here. She was supposed to be safely tucked away at Great Smials. How could Tollo have lost control of things so badly as to let her return to Brandy Hall early? The portly hobbit before him had continued speaking.

“These hobbits who are removing most of the chairs are the ones that were made to wait outside this morning. Certainly an oversight on the part of those you had stationed at the door.”

Longo caught the edge in Togo’s voice. It was extremely clear that the old hobbit knew it had been no oversight.

Togo Goodbody had turned his full attention to Macimas. He gently took hold of the Master’s left arm, guiding him away from the secretary. “If the hobbits who were present this morning are to be able to return for the trial this afternoon, Master, there was need to remove the chairs. There isn’t going to be enough room for everyone otherwise. We will, of course, leave chairs along the walls for those who are unable to stand for long periods of time.”

The Master and the newcomer walked away. Longo knew he had just lost control of what had been the best laid plans.

****************

There was more noise outside his cell than usual and Macidoc stood up to see what he could from the tiny window in the door. It was a useless gesture as his ears told him everything he needed to know.

“I am not here to help him escape, for goodness sake, but it is inconceivable that he is not allowed a visit from his own mother.”

Mac heard the keys fumbling in the lock as his jailer stammered, “There will be mischief, Mistress. I was told they were to have no visitors.”

The door opened. Chalcedony Brandybuck pushed past the jailer to envelope her son in her arms.

“You’re here!” was all Macidoc could manage as emotion tightened his throat.

“I’m here. Jebbin and Other’s parents are here and the half of the Shire that was made to stand outside all morning is now in the Hall as well, my dear lad.”

For a few minutes there was nothing more said, then Mac took his head from his Mother’s shoulder to look into her eyes.

“I . . . we all . . . we felt so abandoned this morning. I didn’t think you had disowned me . . .”

“Never!” his Mother huffed. “And I don’t care what it says on any piece of paper, neither has your Father. There is treachery afoot here and you and your friends are not the ones perpetuating it.” She took hold of her son’s shoulders. “The bottom of this will be got to, I promise you that. But for now, I have to leave you. I will see you in a while in the ballroom. You will find things quite changed in there this afternoon.”

“But, Mum, the vote was taken before luncheon. We have already been found guilty.”

Chalcedony blinked a bit at this revelation. “Have you indeed? Would you say fairly or rightly so?”

“No,” Mac said firmly. “Not in the least. Not only was there no one to speak for us, we were totally ignored when we tried to speak for ourselves. It was a sham. But the papers were signed. According to that the only thing left is for the Master to mete out our punishments.”

Again his mother paused before speaking. When she spoke, she did so slowly and carefully. “As I said, I think you will find things quite changed this afternoon.” Chalcy kissed her son’s cheek. “Be strong, Macidoc. You and the others are no longer facing this alone.” She turned and left the cell. The door swung to and Mac heard the keys turning the lock.

***************

Other dove at his parents, hugging them both at once.

“You . . . you . . . didn’t . . . didn’t . . .”

“Never.”

“They tried to force us . . .”

The rest was lost amid their happy tears.

“We can only stay a few minutes, Other,” Marrin finally managed to say. “The Mistress . . .”

“Mac’s mother is here!” Other pulled back to exclaim.

“Yes, dear,” Clary chuckled as she dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “She is here and a force to be reckoned with. I almost feel sorry for Macimas, but I assure you I’ve no pity to spare for his horrible secretary.”

“Have you seen Jebbin yet?”

“No, not yet,” said Marrin

Other started to push his parents out of the cell. “Go! Go! Before these spineless jailers gain some nerve and make you leave. He needs to see you. This morning . . .” Other paused. He now held his parents arms to keep them a moment. “I’ve never seen him look so helpless, so hopeless. He needs to know you still . . . want us as sons.”

Clary gasped. She grabbed Other and held him fast. “My poor dear lads,” she moaned.

“Come now, Clary,” Marrin soothed as he gently drew her away. “We need to go see Jebbin.” He looked deep into Other’s eyes. “We will see you upstairs in a while, Other.”

Then they were gone and the door shut tight behind them.

******************

Jebbin sat on the floor of his tiny cell. What did it matter if he heard keys in the lock. They needed to remove his uneaten luncheon. Well, at least the mug of tea was empty.

He suddenly found himself enveloped in a warm, loving hug.

He drew a deep breath of her rose water scent. “Mum,” he sighed. “It was another of their lies after all.”

“Yes, my dear Jebbin. Macimas and that awful Longo tried to make us . . .” Clary simply could not bring herself to say the word ‘disown’. “But we left Brandy Hall instead.”

“We are here to stand with you and Other, son.” Marrin firmly squeezed his son’s shoulder. “We would have been with you this morning but they wouldn’t let us in.”

Jebbin looked up at his father. “Wouldn’t let you in? I suppose that does make sense as you were supposed to have disowned us. But you’re here now, how did you manage that?”

“The Mistress of Brandy Hall is hard to refuse, my lad.”

“The Mistress! Does Mac know?”

“She is with her son now, I’m thinking.”

The guard stuck his head into the small room. “Out wi’ ya all. Now! It’s a good bit of trouble you’ve put me in. Word’s just come down as that I shouldn’t have let none o’ ya in.”

Clary gave Jebbin another squeeze before Marrin helped her to her feet.

“We will see you in the ballroom, Jebbin,” Marrin said with a wink as the left the cell.

******************

“Sorry, Ma’am, but I’ve just been told no one is to see the accused.”

“Ilberac Brandybuck,” Chalcedony sternly replied to the guard outside of the apartment where Marjy and Athelas were confined. “I can not believe that you would refuse kin the right to make sure the lasses are being properly cared for. Mr. Took here is Athelas Brandybuck’s brother . . .”

“And . . . and I am . . .” an out of breath young hobbitess came running up. “I am . . . Marjoram’s sister, Rosemary.”

Chalcy smiled at Rosemary but continued speaking to the guard. “Exactly, Ilberac, these are the accused’s kin. I will not allow that they be refused the opportunity to see that their sisters are being properly cared for.”

Ilberac fought a battle with himself for a few moments, then, with a pursing of his lips and a nod to the Mistress, he opened the door.

There was a great deal of hugging and tears before Athelas pulled away from Toby.

“Mistress Chalcedony . . .” she began, but was interrupted by the guard coming in.

“That’s enough.” Ilberac said loudly. “You’ve seen they are well. You need to be on your way.”

“Tell me when you tell everyone in the ballroom this afternoon.” Chalcy managed to say to Athelas before the door closed behind her.

As they walked down the tunnel two guards passed by them on their way to escort Marjy and Athelas to the afternoon session of the trial.

******************

Togo was joined by Holman Gardner as he walked about the ballroom with Macimas II.

“Really, eh . . . Mr. eh. What did you say your name was, sir?” the Master asked Togo.

“Goodbody, Master, Togo Goodbody. My friend here is Holman Gardner of Bag End, Hobbiton.”

“It seems you are confused, Mr. Goodbody, about what happened here this morning. You see, actually, to be honest . . .”

Macimas stopped. He was feeling terribly bewildered. This hobbit had waltzed him away from his secretary with the ease of an expert dancer. Now what was he to do? Everything had been, “I’ll see to that, Master.” and, “No need to concern yourself with that, Sir. I’ve already tended to it.” And now Longo wasn’t at his side to explain things.

“Yes, Master Macimas?” Togo wore a patient look.

But the Master turned to Holman. “Gardner did he say your name is?”

“Yes, Master.”

“From Hobbiton? From Bag End?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are a descendant of Samwise the Stalwart, aren’t you?”

Holman smiled at the Buckland titling of his ancestor. “Yes, sir, I am.”

“And do you?”

Holman looked puzzled. “Do I what sir?”

“Why, garden, Mr. Gardener. Are you a gardener as he was?”

Holman laughed heartily. “As a pastime, Master. Only as a pastime. I consider my occupation, such as it is, to be that of scholar.”

“I see,” replied Macimas, who then turned back to Togo. “You said, Mr. Goodbody, that the proceeding this morning had to be a . . . a . . . sort of a preliminary meeting; not the trial. But . . . ah . . . it, it was the trial actually.”

They had arrived at the small platform upon which the Master of Buckland has sat during the trial. Off to the side was the desk at which Rollo Caskbury had sat. Rollo’s notes of the trial were in plain view upon the desk.

“As you can see for yourself, sir. There it is in the notes. The accused . . .”

Macimas had picked up the paper and was looking at it himself. He grew pale, his hands shook. He looked around as an air of desperation formed around him. Where was Longo? He had put this all in order. He had said to leave everything to him and it would all be well. But - Macimas looked back at the papers - it wasn’t.

“They were questioned, and they . . . Well, I thought they answered.” Macimas looked hard at the pages in his hands. He now spoke to himself, Togo and Holman had disappeared from his thoughts. “I could have sworn my son spoke out. I remember hearing . . .” He swallowed hard. “I heard Macidoc speaking, and he sounded so strong. Proud of what he was saying. Proud of his friend.” His voice was slowly growing softer, and the other two hobbits barely heard him say, “Not like me.”

“Is there something amiss, Master Macimas?” Togo asked.

In a quiet, dull voice, Macimas continued. “They spoke for themselves, I’m sure of that, yet, there is no mention of it at all here. They spoke, but Longo didn’t listen. He talked and talked. Everything he said is here but . . .”

Quicker than anyone would have expected for a hobbit so obviously in a daze, he turned away, still looking at the papers in his hands. He nearly ran into several hobbits on his way to the ballroom door that was nearest his study.

“That was an interesting turn of events,” Holman said to Togo. “I wonder where it will lead him?”