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Kindred  by GamgeeFest

Kindred



1402 SR

Great Smials, Tuckborough


Thain Ferumbras sat in the middle of his study, lit only by the faint glow of a single candle. The room looked different at night, but he still knew every niche on the walls, every squeaky board in the floor and every single one of the books and scrolls cramming the bookshelves. He could navigate this room with his eyes closed. Sometimes it felt as though he had spent his entire life in this room. He certainly spent more time here than his apartment, this last week especially so. 

He glanced up at the portraits of his parents over the mantle. “Oh, Mother,” he said and stopped, unable to form any thoughts beyond that. The pain of her loss was still fresh, and the havoc of the last week had exhausted him. He had hoped that things would begin to settle down after the burial, but rumors had lives of their own.

And what rumors they were. Poor Pearl was distraught, and Paladin and Eglantine were livid that anyone would entertain the idea that their daughter had deliberately dumped the matriarch over the threshold and down the hillside. Ferumbras believed it as little as they did, and he had even given the lass a string of his mother’s pearls in an attempt to show he held no ill-will against her. The lass had only been doing his mother a kindly service, and that was not the first incident Lalia had encountered with that rickety old wheeled-chair. “Chairs with wheels are like hobbits in water – they don’t mix,” he had warned his mother on several occasions, always to be dismissed with a flap of her meaty hand. 

His gift unfortunately had done little to stem the rumors. If anything, they had grown since then and now that Lalia was underground, the tongues of the Tooks had been loosened as never before. Pearl in her shame had not gone to the service. Her aunts Amber, Heather and Esmeralda and her parents Paladin and Eglantine had given only brief observance over Lalia’s grave, a slight even the dullest hobbit would be hard pressed to miss and served only to add fuel to the fire. 

Wasn’t it astonishing, the gossipers whispered, that Heather and Amber (or The Aunts as everyone called them) were now the eldest matriarchs of the Took family? Well, you know that Esmeralda got herself married to Master Rorimac’s eldest son as soon as he came of age and look at the position she enjoys now. And wasn’t it convenient that it was Paladin’s own daughter who was tending Lalia that fateful morning? Why, he’s next in line to be Took and Thain. The feud between the Whitwell Tooks and the elderly matriarch knew no limits; Ferumbras had better sleep with one eye towards the door and the other to the window.

Feud. Ferumbras frowned ruefully at the word. Oh yes, it was true enough that the Whitwell Tooks only tolerated Lalia and gave her a wide berth on visits, but they were no different from anyone else in that respect. Indeed, the Aunts had dwelt in Great Smials all these years with nary a concern or cross word either way. Esmeralda had simply followed her heart, and as for Paladin, he was perfectly happy overseeing his farms in Whitwell and would pass over being Took and Thain if tradition didn’t dictate that the titles be passed to him. 

There may have been a feud between the Whitwells and Lalia the Great at one time, but it had been one they had buried long ago. Ferumbras wasn’t so blind, or sentimental in his mourning, as to overlook that there had still been ill feelings, but to continue to call it a feud was taking it too far. Yet he supposed they were a more likely target for such rumors than anyone else, all things considered, and poor Pearl was caught in the middle of something with which she had nothing to do.

The only solution Ferumbras could come up with was to unearth the root of those rumors once and for all, and to do that he would have to leave Tuckborough. He had told no one where he was going, only that he had important business to attend to and would return by the evening. Hopefully, he would not be returning alone.

He filled a snifter with a finger of brandy and lifted it at his parents’ portraits over the mantle as if in toast, but words failed him at the last. There were too many things to say and all of them too late. He took a sip and waded through his memories of the last week. Indeed, the last thirty-eight years.



~*~



Chapter 1 – The Darling of Tookland


28 Forelithe, 1364 SR

Great Smials, Tuckborough


Clematis Took frowned at the piles of luggage near the apartment door. So far, only Adalgrim and herself were packed. They would each be taking two bags to the Free Fair, while the rest of their luggage would be delivered to their house in Whitwell, but of her children’s luggage, none was to be seen. Despite her sternest warnings that they will be leaving after elevenses, her youngest children were continuing to take their sweet time. At least she need not worry about her eldest daughters, Amber and Heather, anymore. They were in their own apartments, and Amber was punctual as a clock; she would see that they were at the stables on time. 

Their annual visit to Tuckborough had been as enjoyable as ever. The children always looked forward to these visits, the Great Smials being such a magnificent and grand mansion to them in comparison to their humble farmhouse in Whitwell. There were endless cousins to run about with and many other relations from across the Shire they only saw during these visits. 

The annual visit was more hectic than normal this year, in part due to the Mayoral election. Normally, the Tooks celebrated the midsummer holidays here at the Smials but the election required Fortinbras to travel to the Free Fair in Michel Delving. The Took and Thain preferred for his first cousins to go as well so he could hear their opinions on the mayoral candidates, which meant Clematis and her family were obliged to go. As it was also Overlithe this year, an occasion of special significance to the Whitwell Tooks, Clematis had used the visit to make her various plans, and a great many of the Tooks would be following them to the Free Fair to help them celebrate it.

But they had to get there first.

Shaking her head at the luggage, Clematis wandered into the kitchen, where a chambermaid was packing the cupboards as ordered. As the family would not be retuning, all food not needed for the journey to Michel Delving was to be distributed to those remaining behind.

“How is it coming along, Belinda?” Clematis asked, looking about the little kitchen with scrutiny. At first glance, everything appeared to be going well, which Belinda quickly confirmed.

“Nearly there, Mistress,” the chambermaid replied, looking up from her work. “I’ve put aside your traveling provisions as you asked, ma’am, and numbered them for you. You’ve a pack for luncheon and tea today. For tomorrow, second breakfast, elevenses and luncheon.” She pointed at the well-stuffed packs.

“Very good,” Clematis said, eyeing three smaller packs next to those. “Are these for extra, in case we run out?” she inquired. She had not asked for extra provisions, but she admitted they would come in handy. Her children, Paladin in particular, could eat to feed the whole of Great Smials. 

“Oh, er, no ma’am. I packed those for Barley, Nab and Sprig,” Belinda said, looking uncomfortable. At her mistress’s blank stare, she elaborated, “The coachhobbits, ma’am.”

“Of course,” Clematis said, feeling chagrined at her own thoughtlessness. Naturally, the drivers would have to eat as well. “Thank you for remembering them, lass. And what of the remaining provender?” She looked around at the many little baskets spread across the counter, each with three satchels in various stages of filling.

“I’m nearly done, ma’am,” Belinda said. “I’ve only a couple more cupboards to go and then I’ll be off to deliver them.” She paused briefly, considering her mistress’s mood before continuing. The mistress had accepted the coachhobbits’ meals well enough; she decided to try it. “Since so many Tooks are going to the Fair this year, I thought to hand out the food to the servants, ma’am, if you’re willing. It will go bad otherwise, with all the celebrating.”

Clematis nodded at this. “That seems wise. We don’t want it going to waste. You’re a good lass, dear.”

Belinda bobbed her head at this, exhaling slowly, and waited. Her mistress wasn’t quite finished with her yet.

“I may require you to help my children with their packing before you go, though. I’ll let you know,” Clematis stated.

“Of course, Mistress,” Belinda said with a slight curtsy before opening the next cupboard, already nearly bare.

Clematis went down the hall to the bedchambers and stopped between the three that belonged to her youngest children. Growing up, the lasses had been obliged to share rooms, both here and at home, but with Amber and Heather in their own apartment, her two youngest lasses now enjoyed the pleasure of their own beds while at Great Smials. Paladin, being the only lad, had always had his own room, a fact he enjoyed gloating at every possibility. The door to the left was closed, but the two to the right were open. Interesting.

Being the more accessible, Clematis turned to the right and looked in at her two youngest children. She nodded in approval at what she saw. Paladin was a messy tween but he cleaned up a room as quickly as he brought it to clutter. He was mostly packed, having only a small pile of waistcoats to divvy up between the Free Fair and home. Esmeralda was somewhat tidier and was in the process of digging through the armoire drawers for any overlooked belongings. Her bags were already packed and squared away. 

“Coming along, dears?” Clematis asked in delight. They might actually be at the stables on time, which meant she would not have to hear any lectures from Amber on the importance of being punctual. 

“Yes, Mum,” they replied promptly, but there was a slight edge to Pally’s tone and a tense set to Esme’s shoulders. 

With a sudden feeling of dread, she turned around to the closed bedchamber door and opened it. What she saw inside was nothing short of astonishing, though not in any way she would consider good. She was greeted by a room that, while not exactly fitting the description of disarray, certainly could not be considered orderly either. A trunk sat open upon the floor, half-filled with neatly folded clothes, while a second, smaller trunk was already packed and locked for the journey, which was promising. What was not promising was the empty pack and the pile of clothes thrown upon the bed and such personal items as brushes, ribbons, gloves and – stars above! – smallclothes still scattered about the room, not to mention the complete lack of a daughter. 

Striving for calm and failing miserably, Clematis turned from the chamber and called through the apartment, “Darling! Where have you got to, dear?” As she had feared, there was no answer. She turned back to Pally and Esme and waited, hands on hips. Paladin was being exceptionally fussy over the folding of his cloak, while Esme seemed to have found something of immense interest under her bed.

“Well?” Clematis asked and at this simple inquiry, her two youngest stopped cold and looked up guiltily. 

“She went to find Rumbi,” Esme answered. “She had something she needed to return to him.”

“She said she’d be right back,” Pally put in.

“How long ago was this?” Clematis asked. 

Her children shrugged. “A while ago,” Pally admitted. 

Clematis sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a tell-tale sign of a headache looming near. 

If Amber was like clockwork, Heather was sensible, Esmeralda was organized and Paladin was efficient, then Amaryllis was flighty and absent-minded, never able to get anywhere on time, except for meals. Clematis knew already what would happen. Ami would remain distracted until elevenses, return to the apartment only in time to eat, and they would be forced to delay their departure for an hour while she finished packing. Amber would be quite put out, being made to wait for an hour by the stables with a rambunctious four-year-old in tow, and Heather would be making a list of everything else she could have done in that hour, even if the only reason she was on time was because she came with Amber.

“I can finish packing her things, Mum,” Paladin offered gallantly, though not without reservations. He eyed the chamber across the hall with bemused hesitancy. Clearly, the mysteries of a lass’s room were ones he did not wish to solve.

Clematis smiled warmly at him. She had a better use for his talents. “No lad. I need you to find Darling and bring her back here. Esme-love?”

“Yes, Mum. I think I can figure out what she wants to take from what’s left to pack, and I’m finished already with my room,” Esme said, and indeed she was. She only needed to close the trunk and fasten the packs; her brother wasn’t too far behind her. 

“Thank you, dear. I’ll send Belinda to help you shortly and to take your things to the parlor. Darling can complete one of your chores when we return to Whitwell,” Clematis said. “Pally, finish up quick and find your sister. If she’s not at Rumbi’s then she should at least still be in the Smials. I’ll go round up your father.”

Pally threw his cloak and the two remaining waistcoats into his travel pack, closed up his trunk, then sprang to his feet and was down the hall in two blinks. Esme secured all the fastenings on her packs and closed her trunk, then stepped across the hall to her sister’s room, taking a deep breath before entering the wreck. Clematis returned to the kitchen, where Belinda was double-checking all the cupboards. 

“Change of plans, Belinda,” she said. “Darling seems to have disappeared. Esme will be needing your help packing her room, and you’ll need to bring all their luggage to pile by the doors. To the left for the Fair, to the right for Whitwell. You can deliver the food once we’ve left.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Belinda said.

“Put our food packs and the ones for the coachhobbits with the Fair luggage, would you? I need to track down my husband.”

“He was going to visit his cousin, Mr. Sigismond, Mistress,” Belinda informed her. 

Clematis nodded, heading for the door. “I’ll call for the coachhobbits to come and collect the luggage shortly,” she said before opening the door.

“Yes, Mistress,” Belinda replied, breezing down the hall to Amaryllis’s chamber, where Esme was already waging war with the clutter.




Pally went first to the Thain’s apartment. He had only been there a few times before, when his parents had taken him and his sisters on visits to Fortinbras and Lalia. 

Fortinbras, or Peanut as his cousins were fond of calling him, was a jovial chap, with pockets always full of bags of nuts, berries or sweets, which he liked to nibble on while listening to the complaints of his relatives, tenants and servants. He was also quite generous with his horde when it came to his youngest nephews, nieces and cousins; Pally and his siblings could always get a handful of the treats to munch on during their visits. 

Lalia kept no such sweets on her person, but she did keep a box of toys and games in the linen chest for children to entertain themselves with. She expected the tweens to sit quietly and obediently during such interviews, to practice being proper adults rather than behaving like wild beasts. She spent such visits dispensing her practical, if oftentimes unsolicited, advice with abandon. She was kindly to her relatives and peers, but anyone of less standing was hardly worth her time beyond telling them when to light the candles or how to prepare her tea. In this respect she was little different from many of the other Tooks, except that she was more blunt to the help than good manners would strictly allow.

Pally wasn’t worried about running into Lalia though, as she and Fortinbras had left for the Fair yesterday morning. As the Took, Fortinbras needed to arrive at the Fair early, along with the other family heads of the Great Families, to hand over the votes of the Minor Families taken two weeks before. As such, Pally didn’t hesitate to rap smartly on the Thain’s apartment door, whistling gaily and rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited.

Only a half-minute passed before the door was answered by Ferumbras himself. Rumbi never kept servants about the apartment when his parents were gone, preferring to see to himself and no doubt luxuriating in his hard-won solitude. 

Rumbi smiled warmly at Pally, only a hint of a question in his eyes. 

“Hallo, Rumbi,” Pally greeted. 

“Good morning, Pally,” Rumbi greeted in return. “This is a pleasant surprise. Won’t you come in?”

“I would like to,” Pally said and meant it. He wasn’t close to Ferumbras, being nearly seventeen years his junior, but he liked his cousin well enough and enjoyed what time they did spend together. “I can’t stay though. Actually, I’m looking for Darling and she said she was coming here.”

Now Rumbi’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs. “She was here to return Mother’s riding shawl, too late I’m afraid. I will have to answer for it later,” he said with a shrug. “That was nearly an hour ago though. Darling hasn’t returned yet?”

Pally shook his head.

“Lost another one then, have you? Your sisters haven’t been taking lessons from the wizard on how to disappear have they?” Ferumbras jested.

“I wouldn’t have thought it of them, but they do seem rather taken to the habit of late,” Pally answered, equally as lightly, despite the twinge of concern this observation brought on. No one spoke of it directly to him or his family, but they had noticed during their visit that Amber and Heather would each have times when they could not be found, materializing only when they were ready to. 

Their cousin Rosamunda had whispered to him and Ami that this little habit began over the long, cold winter, and it didn’t appear to be getting any better. “I thought they were going to the family plots, but I went there once looking for them and couldn’t find them,” Rosamunda had finished her account softly, her eyes filling with tears. She had shivered and drew her arms around herself, as though shielding herself from a sudden chill. “The elders say it wasn’t as harsh as the Fell Winter. If that’s true, I wouldn’t want to guess what that must have been like.”

Rumbi didn’t shiver or cry, but his face softened with empathy. “I understand that Amber and Heather will be returning to Whitwell with you after the Fair,” he said. “I think it will be good for them to get away for a time.”

Pally nodded. “I think so too,” he agreed, though this was mostly the influence of his mother. Clematis had finally succeeded in convincing Amber and Heather into coming to Whitwell for the rest of the summer. Whether that was for the good or not was yet to be seen. After all, there were plenty of places for them to disappear to on a farm. Ami though was another matter entirely, of which Ferumbras quickly reminded him.

“At least Darling, sweet thing, prefers to hide in the open,” he said, stepping into the tunnel and closing the door behind him. “Let’s see if we can’t track her down. She shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

Nor was she. They soon enough discovered her sitting in a nearby parlor, surrounded by a small group of young cousins. Fond of attention in all its delightful forms, Ami was ever the center of any gathering, and now was no exception. Her emerald eyes sparkled with mirth, her face lit with mischief as she regaled her audience with a recount of the latest gossip from Tookbank. She carelessly pushed a thick lock of auburn curls behind an ear as she leaned forward, so intent on her story she failed to notice her brother and Rumbi standing in the entryway. 

“And then she picked the thing up – in her bare hands, if you can believe it – and proceeded to chase after the brut with it. He screamed and hollered and ran about, sounding and acting more the lass than any of the maids there, but he was much too distracted with evading his one-time prey to notice the taunting coming his way. He nearly got away too, except her brother stepped out from the bushes near the gate and blocked his path until the lass caught up with him. Then she pulled back her arm, slung the sheep dung and hit them both square in the face – her brother by accident, or so she maintains.”

Ami sat back, her tale concluded, and delicately crossed her wrists over a knee, smiling prettily so that a dimple sat in the middle of each round cheek. One would think she was telling modest tales of familial bliss if they had not heard the subject matter.

The reaction from her audience was a mixture of horror, amusement and disgust. Humor won out when she feigned thoughtfulness, touching a long-nailed finger to her fair chin, and said, “He’s not so fond of sheep anymore but she quite thinks them lovely, all bleating aside.”

Beside him, Rumbi chuckled heartily. Pally couldn’t help grinning either; he had heard the tale twice before and thought his sister had polished it quite effectively. He waited until the laughter mellowed into giggles, then stepped into the parlor and cleared his throat. Everyone turned to discover the source of the distraction but only Ami moved.

She jumped to her feet, horror stamped on her pretty features, and trotted across the room with a hasty wave to her cousins. She came to a stop in front of her brother, smiling briefly at Ferumbras in acknowledgment of his presence.

“Is she very angry?” she asked of their mother.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to be you just now,” Pally replied. “Esme and the chambermaid are packing the rest of your things.”

Ami’s face darkened. “Esme doesn’t know which dresses I was going to take. I’ll end up with nothing but smallclothes and a shift to wear at the festivities.” 

“You best hurry then, Darling,” Rumbi said. “I doubt Mother would be so quick to lend you so much as a handkerchief now.”

“I said I would apologize to her for that,” Ami replied, reminded of the riding shawl. “Though I doubt very much it will do me any good.”

“I doubt it also, but she’ll come around,” Rumbi reassured. He reached out a hand and lightly cupped her cheek. “She likes you, after all.” Putting down his hand, he stepped into the tunnel. “If you do intend to apologize, though, you’d best go and see to your packing. Mother isn’t likely to take you seriously, wearing nothing but your smallclothes and a shift.”

He bowed graciously and as she passed him he hurried her along with a gentle push on her lower back, the momentary contact sending a thrill through his fingers and arm. He and Pally watched her as she trotted off then followed at a more leisurely pace. Pally, after all, was finished with his packing and was in no hurry to return to the apartment. Rumbi would have liked nothing more than to follow Ami anywhere she went, but that was hardly appropriate behavior.

“Do you really think Lalia will forgive such a serious offense?” Pally asked, unable to suppress a grin. Lalia was a most fastidious and fussy dresser, and if she had wanted the shawl before departing, it was only because it matched the rest of her traveling attire and thus completed the ensemble. To have to ride all the way to the Free Fair mismatched would infuriate her to no end. If he didn’t know his sister better, he would be tempted to think that Ami forgot the shawl on purpose.

Rumbi sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, but she’ll pretend to, if I ask her. Do me a favor? Don’t let Darling apologize until after I’ve spoken with Mother. I’ll tip you a wink.”

Pally nodded. “That would be wise,” he agreed.

They parted at the Thain’s apartment. Rumbi would now have to leave near the same time as Adalgrim, rather than the following day as he originally intended, if he was to find his mother and speak with her before Ami lost patience with her brother’s interruptions. He had his own packing to finish in a hurry and no chambermaid or sibling to help him.




With luck, Ami arrived at the apartment before her parents, though she was not without company when she got there. Sitting against the wall opposite the apartment door were the coachhobbits her father had hired. She grinned at them warmly as they scrambled to their feet and bobbed their heads, their hats clutched in their hands. 

“Good morning, lads,” Ami greeted. “Has no one let you in?”

“We knocked, Miss, but no one answered. We were just setting to knock again in another minute,” the first hobbit said. 

“Well, you can come in now,” Ami said. She opened the door and let them inside. She noticed her luggage was still absent from the piles stacked on either side of the door, for which she was grateful. She could still make sure she had the right clothes for the Fair.

She pointed to the larger stack. “This will be going home, and the other will need to be piled on the carriage for the Fair,” she instructed, looking at the piles dubiously. It would take at least a dozen trips for all the luggage to be hauled off, and the bags and trunks were not lightly packed. 

“My goodness. Do we really have this much stuff?” she asked. The coachhobbits said nothing, but they thought for a family of five, the amount of luggage was actually quite little, compared to what they were accustomed to seeing. 

Ami turned to the coachhobbits again, looking worried. “This is quite a bit to be carrying by yourselves, and my luggage is still in my chamber. Will you need additional help?”

“Oh, no, that’s kind of you Miss, truly, but we’re fine as we are, begging your pardon,” the first hobbit said, blushing deeply at her regard. 

Like his partners, he was in his tweens and had been apprenticed to the Great Smials just over ten years. Nearly the first thing all apprentices learned was to never burden the gentry. This did not always coincide with the second thing they learned: never refuse a request by the gentry. Such conflicts for them were rare, as they took their orders from the master ostler, who took all requests for carriages, traps and ponies, worked out the details with the gentry, then handed the assignments to the apprentices and junior ostlers. The apprentices rarely spoke with any of the gentry directly and even less often with the ladies, other than to say ‘yes sir’ or ‘yes ma’am’. They were now junior ostlers but had not been in their new positions long. As such, they were easily flustered when situations such as this occurred, especially when confronted by comely young lasses.

The second coachhobbit, who was the oldest of the three, faired better. He bobbed his head again for good measure before adding, “We pulled a trap up outside the nearest exit, Miss. We’ll load that and take that back to the stables where the carriages are waiting. We’ll not be mixing the Fair luggage with the rest, I assure you, Miss.”

“Now that is clever!” Ami complimented, making them blush even more. “Best get started then. I should have my luggage ready by the time you’re finished with these. I’m Amaryllis Took, by the way. You can call me Darling or Ami. Everyone else does.” And here she extended her hand and smiled sweetly, a dimple winking at them from each round cheek.

The coachhobbits paused, taken by surprise at this gesture, but manners quickly won over their shock. 

“Sprig,” said the first coachhobbit, taking her hand in a tentative, quick grasp, horrified that he hadn’t thought to wash his hands before coming up from the stables.

“Nab, Miss Ami,” said the second coachhobbit, also making quick work of the handshake. His hands smelled of oats, soiled hay and sweating ponies; he would have sooner stuffed them in his pockets than taint that fair hand with his own. He suppressed the urge to tell her to wash off the grime only by biting the inside of his cheek. No doubt, the very first thing she would do was head for the nearest basin.

The third coachhobbit followed his companions’ lead, except he wiped his hands on his trousers first. “I’m Barley, Miss Ami.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ami said, taking no notice of their discomfort nor the reason for it. “Which of you will be coming with us to the Fair?”

“Nab and I will be driving you and your family, Miss,” Sprig answered.

“Oh, how lovely. Well, I look forward to learning more about the both of you,” Ami responded, dimples still grinning in her cheeks. “Let me know when you’ve finished loading the trap, and I’ll get you all some water. It’s so hot out there; you shouldn’t be starting a long journey on parched throats.”

“Yes, Miss Ami,” they said and gratefully turned to their task as Ami headed down the hall to her chamber. 

“She’s nice,” Barley said, grabbing hold of two smaller bags in each hand. 

“She’s a pretty one,” Sprig added, speaking quietly. He reached for a larger bag and hoisted it up across his shoulders.

“Aye, she is,” Nab agreed, lifting a trunk with a grunt. He eyed Barley’s load. “Want to trade?”

“Not on your life,” Barley replied, stepping into the tunnel and leading the way to the exit, which they had propped open with a rock. 

Sprig followed after him. “I’ve never been to the Free Fair afore. Mayhap I can ask Miss Darling for a dance come Midsummer Day.”

Nab snorted at this. “Don’t be daft, lad. She likely won’t talk to you once we’re on our way, and you won’t even catch a glimpse of her once we’re in Michel Delving – lest she wants something. No. She’ll be among friends and family, sleeping in an inn or one of those tent circles, and you’ll be sleeping with the ponies. Hope you have a comfortable sleeping roll.”

“I’ve got mine packed,” Sprig said. “The others lads as have been there afore say as we might be able to get hired on at one of the inns. They’re always needing more help during the Fair, aren’t they?”

“Aye, but you got to get there early to snatch up the good posts,” Barley informed them. “Elsewise, all you’ll be working for is your food and board. Don’t count on earning any extra coin, lest you’re lucky at betting on the races.”

They reached the exit and went outside to the waiting trap. They had pulled it up to the path, just a few steps from the door, and they had brought a larger one, thinking there would be more luggage for them to load than there was. A rope was tied across the trap, separating the bed in half, so they could put the luggage heading for Whitwell in one half, and the rest in the other. 

They placed their burdens in the bed and headed back inside.

“I’m a fair hand at cards,” Sprig said, considering. “I just hope Mint doesn’t try and take my sleeping spot whilst I’m gone.”

“You know he will, the scab,” Nab said, then scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. “You know, they don’t got any sleeping rolls for themselves either. It’d be an inn for them, then, and no wonder.”

“What do you mean?” Barley asked. 

“Well, you know as the reason so many Took are going to the Fair this year is acause of Miss Ami,” Nab said, lowering his voice automatically as they entered the apartment again.

“I thought they were all going what with it being an election year,” Sprig said, picking up another load.

Nab shrugged, balancing another trunk in his hands. “The Took maybe,” he said, this time leading the way into the tunnel. “But he always takes his first cousins with him, or so they say, so there would always be more Tooks at the Fair than usual. But I heard it from Belinda this morning that even more than that are going and it’s because of Miss Ami.”

“How’s that?” Barley asked.

“It’s her birthday on Overlithe,” Nab said, stepping outside. “An unusual birthday too at that. You know the last Took as was born on that day was born nearly a hundred years afore she was?”

“I didn’t know that,” Sprig said. “It’d be mighty strange, having a birthday as only comes around once every four years.”

Nab nodded sagely but waited until they were outside again before speaking further. Sprig set his load down next to Barley’s and helped Nab push the second trunk flush to the first. That’s when Nab leaned forward and whispered again even though there was no one about to hear him. 

“And that’s not all. They say as that birthday is cursed for the Tooks, acause the last Took as had it, a Mr. Hildigard, was born sickly and he died all of a sudden at the tender age of twenty-eight, just like that.” He snapped his fingers to illustrate his point. “No one’ll say it to Miss Ami or her family, but they reckon as it’s just a matter of time afore the curse gets her too. That’s why they be calling her ‘Darling’ see. She’s darling enough, and that’s for certain, but it’s also acause they know they’ve only a short time with her.”

Sprig and Barley looked doubtful. “You’re jesting now, and it’s in poor taste,” Sprig chided. “I heard as Mr. Hildigard were cursed by the Old Forest. He went in as you know, and they say as only Brandybucks can go in there and hope to come out with their lives.”

“That’s right,” Barley said. He was originally from The Yale and knew of such legends as the Brandybucks told. “He went in during the Hedge trimming one year. He was one of them racers who try and get through every year. He was the only one as made it though, and too bad for him that he did. No one’s attempted it since. Or rather, they still race, but none of them mind much when the Bounders catch them up and send them back afore they can reach it.”

“Oh, I heard that story too,” Nab said, waving it away as so much nonsense. He headed back inside, Sprig and Barley following after. “You trust my word. That Miss Amaryllis ain’t got much longer to be living among the Tooks, one way or another. Are you going to get her a present?”
“What?” Sprig asked, taken off guard by the sudden change in subject. He looked scandalized at the very thought. “I can’t do that!”

Now Nab and Barley laughed, and Nab ribbed his friend. “You can’t at that, so don’t go thinking on it. You’re sweet on her already and you just meeting her.”

Sprig laughed ruefully along with his friend. “Sweet I may be, but I’m not daft, lad. Now get in there and let’s get to work, lest we be hauling this luggage all morning. I’d like to eat afore we leave, you know.”




Ami found Esme and Belinda in the process of folding her smallclothes. “Hallo!” she greeted them. “I just found the coachhobbits in the tunnel, waiting to be let in. Did you not hear them knock?”

Esme and Belinda shook their heads. “They weren’t waiting too long, I hope,” Esme said. 

“I don’t believe so,” Ami replied. “Did you get my Overlithe dress packed?”

“If it’s the yellow one with the pink sash, yes,” Esme said.

“No, that’s for Midyear’s Day,” Ami said and held out her hand for the shift her sister was folding. “Here, I’ll finish this up.”

Esme relinquished the shift and happily left the room. Ami then dismissed Belinda so the maid could return to her duties in the kitchen, and set to sorting out her luggage. 

Ami found her Overlithe dress still hanging in the wardrobe, along with a handful of other items. Everything else had been packed already, but she went through her bags to make sure the correct frocks and accessories had been packed for the Fair. Then she set about packing the remaining clothes in her wardrobe and double-checking the room for overlooked items.

By the time her parents and brother returned, Ami was finished packing and the coachhobbits were hauling her bags out of the apartment. She was in the kitchen, pouring cups of water for Barley, Nab and Sprig, when Clematis entered.

“Darling,” Clematis started, looking stern.

“I know. I’m sorry, Mum,” Ami apologized promptly and smiled winningly. “It won’t happen again. I promise. And see? Just in time for elevenses.” She waved in the general direction of the clock in the parlor as proof.

If anyone was still in doubt, Pally entered the kitchen and announced, “I’m hungry. Are we going to the dining hall now?”

“Soon, sweet,” Clematis said, not taking her eyes off her daughter. “You’re nearly of age, Darling. You need to be more responsible and less forgetful. Can you do that?”

“I can, Mum,” Ami said. “I’ll just take these out to the lads, and I’ll meet you all in the dining hall. Promise.”

She pecked her mother on the cheek and winked at her brother as she stepped out of the kitchen, glasses balanced on a tray. Clematis put a hand on her arm as she passed though; while she knew her daughter would never dream of being late for a meal, she would rather not separate again. 

“Let Belinda do that,” she said, taking the tray and setting in on the counter. “Go fetch your sister. We’re leaving now.”




After elevenses, they left the Great Smials and headed over the hills to the stables. There they found the carriages waiting, piled high with their luggage, as well as Amber’s, Arlo’s and Heather’s bags. Sprig and Nab were on top of their respective carriages, checking the fastenings on the luggage and readying the carriages for departure. 

Standing in the shade of the stable wall were Heather and Arlo. The four-year old was scattering seed for the chickens as his aunt cooled herself with a fan. Surprisingly, Amber was nowhere to be seen. 

“Where is Amber?” Adalgrim asked as they reached the carriage. 

“She forgot something in our apartment,” Heather answered. “She’ll be along shortly enough.”

“You mean, we’re actually here before her?” Pally asked, disbelieving. 

“Will wonders never cease?” Esme agreed.

“What does that mean, Aunt Esme?” Arlo asked, hand paused in the middle of grabbing more seeds.

“It means, your mum can’t nag us next time we’re late,” answered Ami instead. She glanced up at the nearest carriage, where Sprig was climbing over piles of luggage. “Hallo Sprig! Barley left already?”

Sprig nodded, not pausing in his work. “Aye, Miss Ami, not five minutes passed.”

“I hope you didn’t put the food beneath all the luggage,” Clematis said.

“No ma’am. It’s just there,” Sprig answered, pointing to the packs just behind the seat. Similar packs stood behind the seat of the other carriage as well.

Adalgrim walked around the carriage to the second, where Nab was now checking the halters on the ponies. “You have driven one of these double-drawn carriages before, I take it?” he asked, looking dubious. “The master ostler assured me experienced drivers, but neither of you can be more than thirty.”

“Aye, sir,” Nab admitted. “I’m twenty-seven and Sprig there’s twenty-nine, but we’ve driven these beasts plenty of times. We have enough hours at the reins to get your family to the Fair safe.”

“Of course you do,” Ami said, giving her father a pointed look. 

Adalgrim returned it with a shrug, and so they both missed the coachhobbits’ rolling their eyes at each other. Gentry, the looks said.

“Mummy!” Arlo cried suddenly. He dropped the sack of seeds and dashed towards his mother, who was just coming over the last hilltop. 

“We’re all here then. Everyone in the carriages,” Adalgrim ordered.

“Can I sit with Sprig?” Ami asked.

Now the coachhobbits shot each other looks of alarm, before Nab’s slowly melted into a sly grin. He wiped his face into a neutral expression though when he turned around to open the door. Sprig climbed down from the roof and likewise opened the door to his carriage.

“I don’t know, Darling,” Adalgrim said slowly. “You’ll take too much sun.”

“Just until we stop for luncheon?” Ami amended and looked as pleading as she could manage.

“Only if Pally agrees to join you,” Adalgrim finally relented.

“Then I get to sit up, too!” Esme protested.

“There’s not enough room,” Clematis started.

“There’s two coaches, Mum,” Pally pointed out. “I’ll sit with Ami and, what was it? Spring? Esme, you can sit with the other driver.”

“It’s Sprig, not Spring. And Nab,” Ami informed her brother.

Nab and Sprig pretended to ignore this exchange as they helped the mistresses into their carriages. Adalgrim shook his head at his children and entered the first carriage after his wife, with a bow from Sprig. 

At length, Amber reached them, her son in her arms and a small bag in her hand. 

“Good of you to join us,” Pally teased.

“You know, Amber, it’s very rude not be to somewhere when you say you’re going to be there,” Ami added.

“Do you know what else we could have been doing while we waited for you?” Esme put in.

“I’m sure those lost two minutes would have been full of mischief, and so I’m equally sure I’ve done everyone in the Smials a favor,” Amber returned, taking the jests with grace. She rounded the first carriage to the second and placed Arlo inside before accepting Nab’s hand up to join her sister.

Nab rounded the back of the carriage to pick up the forgotten bag of seed. He tied it closed with a knot and tossed it into the seed barrel that stood just inside the stable door. He came around to the front of the carriage to find Esmeralda standing there, waiting patiently. She was clearly younger than her sister Ami, and while she wasn’t the beauty that Ami was, she was still quite pretty. She beamed a toothy smile at him and extended her hand.

“I’m Esmeralda,” she introduced herself, “but you can call Esme.”

“Miss Esme,” Nab said with a bob of his head. He shook her hand quickly, wondering just what it was about these Took lasses that compelled them to shake hands with everyone. “I’m Nab, Miss.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Nab,” Esme said, and waited, looking expectant.

Nab noticed then that Sprig was helping Ami atop the other carriage. Paladin was waiting below for his turn to climb. Nab bowed again, somewhat hastily, and quickly climbed into his seat before reaching down a hand to help Esme aboard.

‘Great,’ he thought. ‘What am I supposed to do with her for the next hour-and-a-half?’ 

Next to them, he could see similar thoughts running through Sprig’s mind. They met eyes and shrugged at each other. They would just have to drive as close together as possible to allow the siblings to talk, and hopefully in that way, they could avoid having to make small talk themselves.

When everyone was settled and ready, they each took up their reins and clucked gently at the ponies awaiting their instructions. Then they were off, the Smials and the stables growing smaller behind them, the Free Fair calling them westward.





To be continued…




GF  6/26/11





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