8. More of the Same 

Ferdi and Hally were gone the rest of the day, to Faramir’s surprise. Rosemary caught him glancing at the door as they sat down to the midday meal – later than late nooning at the Smials; Farry calculated that it must be nearly two in the afternoon. ‘It’s all right, lad,’ she said. ‘Undoubtedly they shot some game and roasted it on sticks over a fire. They know how to fare away from hearth and hole.’

Farry nodded, tucking in to his own excellent plateful of home cooking. He thought of his own miserable efforts to feed himself after his food ran out. Stealing was the only way he’d been able to fill his belly: a fine state of affairs for a lad making his own way in the world, he grumbled to himself. 

After the table was cleared, washing up done, and all was once again tidy, there was time free for play. These Bolgers didn’t play like the Tookish cousins Farry preferred to spend his time with, each trying to best the others in contests of wit or brawn, or seeking out mischief for a lark, or thinking up ways to shirk necessary tasks, or sitting in glum or sullen boredom.

Robin was carving a farm for the littlest Bolgers. Already he had several cows, a team of plow ponies, some tiny chickens and tinier chicks. He was working now on a rooster, and the three littlest ones crowded round him, eyes wide, commenting in whispers on the comb and wattle and mouth opened “just like he’s a crowin’, even now!”

Buckthorn was constructing a byre for the wooden animals out of sticks from the kindling pile. The two middle lads had used a half-burned stick to trace a game board upon the hearthstones, and were playing at Kings with pebbles for pieces. The oldest girl was knitting a bright scarf, and the middle girl was sitting on the hearthrug with the youngest, sewing an apron for the little one’s doll.

Farry found himself drawn into the play with the little farm, consulted on just where to place each animal, and he found himself grinning at the littlest lad’s enthusiastic crows as that one pretended to fly the cock to perch atop the little byre. From where he sat, he could see the game of Kings come to a finish and another game begin without fuss or bother. It seemed as if in this home, the winner didn’t gloat and the loser didn’t pout, they simply set up for another game and were soon hard at it.

No, it was not at all like the cousins whose company he preferred, back at the Great Smials. It should have been terribly dull, like spending time with Ferdibrand’s family, “goody” Rudi and the rest, but instead it seemed peaceful, and purposeful, and anything but boring.

Rosemary watched the lad unobtrusively as she sat in the rocker with her mending, her needle never pausing in its journey even as her thoughts ran along busy lines. Surely this was the son of the Thain in their midst, though he did not look down his nose at their humble pursuits. Indeed, he took part as heartily as the rest, but silent still. Why was that? she wondered. He didn’t seem frightened, but why did he not speak? And why was Ferdi hiding away here in Woody End with the lad? He hadn’t sent a message to the Thain as she’d expected. What in the world was her baby brother about?

Parsley, the eldest girl, set down her knitting and rose to put the kettle on for tea. The other two girls rose from admiring the effect of the finished apron adorning the doll and laid the table, whilst the lads tidied away their toys and tools. Soon they were sitting around the table again, talking, laughing, passing a plate of biscuits.

Farry found himself surprised once again. Tea at the Great Smials was a substantial meal, why, even if it was just sandwiches and teacakes, it was ten kinds of sandwiches and six kinds of cake. Biscuits might be served as an afterthought, for the purpose of filling up the corners after the meal, but to have biscuits alone for tea?

After tea, it was time for chores again. He helped Robin with the milking and taking care of the animals in the byre, and he helped Buckthorn chop more wood, then brought in armloads to lay by the hearth. By the time the chores were finished, it was time for supper, and Hally and Ferdi had returned from their work in the woods. This was more like it, hot pork pie, steaming under its flaky crust. The sun was seeking her bed outside, and at the Smials they’d be having a light meal, eventides, and then the children would be sent to bed. Farry had been allowed to stay up for late supper on special occasions, but he was used to being sent off after eventides, and so it was not much of a shock to him to see the Bolger children getting ready for bed. What was a shock was seeing the adults making ready, as well.

The children clamoured for a story from their uncle. Hally had seen in their time cutting trees together that Ferdi was having one of his bad days, though Took that he was he hadn’t said a word in complaint. Now Hally took charge and spun a tale of his youth in the woods, and how he’d met Rosemary when her family’s coach had broken down on the Stock Road.

‘What a beautiful creature she was,’ he said, his eyes faraway in recollection, ‘I hardly had the presence of mind to say two words to her.’

‘You did say two words at that,’ Rosemary laughed. As the children pressed eagerly for more, she added, ‘I sneezed, and he said, “Bless you.” And that was all he said!’ She smiled fondly at her husband.

‘But more of the story will have to wait,’ Hally said, ‘for it is full dark outside now, and time to blow out the lamps. Off with you, now, all of you! This tired woodcarver needs to seek his own bed.’ He and Rosemary shooed the children off to their beds, and then Rosemary came back to look at Farry’s healing wound and put on a fresh dressing.

‘It is healing nicely,’ she said. ‘In a few days, I think, you’ll hardly have anything to remember that fox by.’ She noted the glance Farry shot at Ferdi, saw her brother shake his head, saw the lad drop his eyes. “Not yet,” Ferdi seemed to be saying. Not yet... what?