Chapter 20. Sifting Truth from Error

'So you believe me now,' Ferdibrand said. He did not lift his mug to his lips, though the tea had cooled to drinking temperature. His hands were trembling, now that it was all over, and he wrapped them around the mug to hold them still.

Tolly sat between Haldegrim and Isenard. His bonds had been removed, but he still had the feeling of sitting under guard. Funny, he thought. None of the escort was drinking their tea, nor Reginard, nor his brother Everard. Isenard stared down into his cup as if it held the answers to every question he’d ever posed, while Haldi stared grimly before him, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Tolly could easily imagine what they were thinking. Today the Thain had turned on Ferdi and Tolly, regardless of their loyalty up until now, extending no grace for mistakes: he had refused to listen to them. What would the morrow bring? Who would be next?

'I don't know what to believe,' Merry said. 'You could have convinced the lad of anything, for madness has been known to conceal itself in cleverness.'

Farry sat by the fireplace, bundled in his blanket in Hally's big chair, a pillow from the bed stuffed behind him. He looked up from his own mug of hot milk with cardamom. 'Uncle Ferdi isn't mad, Merry. Ferdi is the bravest, most sensible hobbit I know! I might still be up in that tree, if not for him – I was that afraid of the fox, I'm not sure I would've ever come down.'

'Ah, you would have, lad,' Ferdi said easily. 'Twas good sense on your part, to make sure he was gone before you climbed down.'

Farry shot him a grateful look, but Pippin's face was stricken. Farry had run from him, he was beginning to realise, from him and everything he stood for: the Thainship, the unending protocol, the whispering tongues and impossibly high expectations that surrounded the lad at home. A father wanted to be a hero to his son, if to no one else, but Ferdibrand was Farry's hero.

It's my own fault, he thought. I turned him over to Ferdi, because I had more important things to do. What was one small lad, against the whole of the Tookland?

Only everything, he thought, everything that really mattered. He would have resigned the Thainship on the spot, but for the thought that Faramir would be unlikely to think that either brave or sensible.

'So, Farry,' said Merry. 'Now you're awake – do you want some more milk, lad? – we are waiting to hear your story.'

Farry gulped what was left in his mug and handed it to Rosemary to be refilled. 'I ran away,' he said, his eyes down cast.

'Why –' Pippin began, but Merry silenced him with a gesture.

'What time did you leave the Smials?'

Farry looked surprised. 'At teatime. I told Auntie Nell I wanted to take tea with my mum, and Mum thought I was still there, so no one would miss me. Everyone was inside eating; no one saw me leave.'

'And where were you headed?' Merry asked.

'To Gondor. I thought I would go and ask the King if I could serve him, as Father served the Steward. They like periannath in Gondor.' Farry smiled, looking down at his hands. In Gondor he would not be the Thain's miscreant son, of no use or delight to anyone. In Gondor he would be Ernil i Periannath, as his father had been.

'But you met with a fox. How did you get away from it?'

Farry shuddered. 'I kept hearing something behind me, in the bushes. I picked up a stout stick, but I was so scared...’ He met his father’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Da, I tried to be brave…’

Pippin could not speak, but his eyes reached out to his son as words could not.

’I kept turning round, trying to tell myself it was nothing, and then… I turned round, and he was jumping at me! I thrust my stick at him and it caught him in the mouth; he shook his head and I leaped for the nearest branch. I felt him catch my leg, but his teeth slid free. I didn’t even know he’d scored me until I saw the red of the blood.'

The hobbits round the table were silent, horrified, picturing a terrified child grabbing at a branch and dragging himself up into the tree, the fox nearly getting a grip on his leg to pull him down. No wonder the lad was afraid to come down.

'And there you stayed until Ferdi found you. You must have been glad to see him.'

'No,' in a small voice. 'I thought he would make me go home.'

Now they had come to the point. 'As he should have done, indeed,' said Merry, with a stern look at Ferdibrand. 'Why did he not take you home, Farry?'

'I told him it didn’t matter if he took me home: I would run away again, the first chance I got, and if he caught me, I would do it again. I would run away as many times as I had to, ‘til he got tired of coming after me and let me go.'

The words were like knives in Pippin's heart, and he strove to keep his face from showing what he felt. He had lost Farry, that was bitterly clear to him now. He could bring him back to the Smials; he would bring him back, of course, but he had lost his son. Perhaps he should face facts, send his son on to Gondor, safe, with a strong escort? He could not have the lad running away, over and over. Foxes were the least of the dangers he would face.

Ferdi took a sip of his tea, finding to his satisfaction that he could control his hands now. He drank the sweet, milky brew thirstily, barely warm though it was. It was a relief to hear Farry's testimony, clearing him of child-stealing. Farry could have spun some fable, to throw the blame off his own shoulders, but no; he was an honest child, and told the tale the way it happened. He looked up to see Pippin’s face, and his satisfaction turned to bile.

'So Ferdi found you, and he cooked you a nice supper, there in the woods, and bandaged your leg. Were you very hungry?'

'Yes!' Farry was emphatic, remembering how hungry he had been.

'So you were glad to see him for that, at least. Had you not eaten since you left home, Farry?'

'No.'

Robin looked up sharply. Farry was lying, and he wondered why.

Merry raised an eyebrow. 'Not at all? You ran away without any food, lad? Not very foresighted, are you?'

'No. Yes! I took some food, Uncle Merry, but not enough. I ate it all, and I was hungry after that.'

That was truth.

'So you ran out of food, the first day, or the second. How did you expect to travel all the way to Gondor, without food?'

'I – I don't know,' Farry admitted.

Merry smiled, laying his hand for a moment on the child's head. How like the young Pippin was his son, flying off on impulse and never a thought for the consequences. He needed an older cousin about him, to rescue him from the scrapes he got into, as Merry had done for Pippin long ago.

'You must learn to think of such things, Faramir, before you go off to travel in the wide world. So you ate up all your supplies, and then you had nothing to eat until you met with Ferdi.'

'That's right.'

'He's lying,' said Robin, and they all turned to stare at him. 'I'm sorry, Farry! But you can't lie now; it all depends on you, what they do to Uncle Ferdi and Tolly. You have to tell the truth.'

Rosemary was nodding, and Merry turned to her.

'What is this all about? Has Farry been awake before today, talking with Robin?'

'No, of course not!' She was shocked. 'I would have had you and the Thain in there on the instant, had he wakened, to hear his story if for no other reason! Robin knows the truth when he hears it, that's all.'

'He knows the truth,' Merry repeated. 'How does he know?'

She shook her head. 'He just does, Master Merry. So do I, and Ferdi, too – we can always spot a lie.' It was something she'd never been able to explain, but she took it for granted, just as she took for granted that Hally would let her sort out any disputes between the children.

'They know truth when they hear it, all three of them,' Hally said.

'We could never slip anything by our mother,' Ferdi said, cupping his hands around his mug to feel the lingering warmth. 'She always knew.'

'You know when someone's lying to you?' Pippin said. 'Why did you never tell me?'

'You never asked,' Ferdi said simply.

'O to have a truth-sifter when hearing a dispute!' Merry said. He was beginning to feel sick at what they'd nearly done. If Faramir had not awakened when he did, would Ferdi and Tolly be past the Bounds by now, cast out and branded for life? He buried the thought for the nonce, allowing himself to be distracted by this reveleation. 'Pippin, d'you know what you have?'

'I'm beginning to suspect,' Pippin said. 'It's why I could never slip anything past Ferdibrand, or hardly anything.'

'Except when you misdirected me with the truth,' Ferdi said, 'or partial truth, like the time you took off in that ice storm, not wanting to be encumbered with an escort.' He thought back. '"We are not bound to leave on the morrow, if a better day presents itself. Let's keep our options open." '

'Never!' Pippin protested.

'Your exact words,' Ferdi said.

'O that's right, I forgot,' Pippin replied in chagrin. 'You remember all you hear, as well.'

Ferdi inclined his head gravely and Merry laughed, while the other hobbits bit their tongues, trying to conceal their amusement.

'I do believe you're not mad,' Merry said when he could speak again. 'Daft, perhaps, but not fallen off that pony yet.'

'Not quite yet, anyhow,' Ferdi said.

’I wouldn’t know about that,’ Tolly drawled. ‘I can name any number of mad things Ferdi’s done.’ The rest of the hobbits of the Thain’s escort began to chuckle. ‘Sliding down a muddy bank above a raging torrent, for starters, with no rope and only tree roots to hold to...’

’Learning to swim,’ Isenard put in. ‘No, wait, the Thain requires that of all his escort.’

’We’re all mad, then!’ Haldi said cheerily. ‘At least, all the rest of the hobbits of the Shire would think so.’

’Save the Brandybucks,’ Tolly corrected, ‘but then, everyone knows they’re all mad...’ He glanced at the Master, suddenly aware that his remarks might be taken askance, and he was not yet out of the woods. Reprieved, perhaps, but not fully in the clear, at least, no one had said as much yet. The rest of the escort followed his thought, and caution descended upon them once more as they glanced from Thain to Master.
 
Merry hadn’t been listening, for the idea of truth-sifting had seized his attention for the nonce, pushing away the knowledge of what must yet be done. He had heard about it, read about in old records, but had never known anyone capable of knowing truth undeniably when he heard it.

'I thought it was an old talent that died out some generations ago,' he said. 'I've not heard of it in this day and age, have you, Pip?'

'Not even in Gondor,' Pippin said, 'and they have many wondrous things there.'

'Though... Frodo had a touch of it, I think,' Merry mused aloud. 'It would explain how he knew he could trust Gollum, at first, when he and Samwise took him on. Later, of course, as his mind became clouded...'

'It sounds as if there's a story to be told,' Ferdi said.

'Later, perhaps,' Merry responded absently, staring into his cup. Never, he thought. He would never tell that story, Frodo's descent into madness, overcome by the Ring. The glorious end of the tale, the Field of Cormallen, did not lessen the horrors of the middle. He blinked, pushing away the memories, forcing himself back to the present. Pippin met his eyes across the table, and Merry knew that he, too, was remembering things he would prefer to forget.

Ferdi and Rosemary shared a look. The Master had no intention of telling any more of that story, later, or ever, from the tone of his voice.

'Let me warm that tea for you; it must be ice cold by now.' Rosemary took Ferdi's mug out of his hand, and he smiled up at her. Happiness flooded him, realizing fully at last that his name was cleared – he would not be exiled, driven away from everyone and everything he loved, his sister not least. His smile became a grin, and Rosemary beamed back at him, reaching out to muss his hair.

'Little brother,' she whispered, and turned to pour him a fresh cup.

'Eat, Farry,' said Parsley, setting a laden tray on Faramir's lap. 'You haven't eaten in days; you have to catch up.'

'And then you ought to go right back under those covers for a nap,' Rosemary said. Faramir made a sour face, and she laughed.

'He's a Took, all right,' she said.

'Isn't it time for elevenses?' asked Tolly. 'Nearly getting banished from the Shire gives me an appetite, can't speak for the rest of you.'

Rosemary chortled – it wasn't funny, no, it really wasn't – and yet it was! Everything was funny now; she was giddy with relief and ready to laugh and sing and dance the springle-ring round the kitchen. And what would the Thain say to that, she wondered, glancing over where he sat stern-faced at the table, staring at the grain of the well-scrubbed wood. She laughed again, thinking of Pippin's probable reaction, if she really began to dance.

'Time for elevenses, and cold enough for hot toddies,' she said merrily. She went into the pantry for the wine and spices, and Hally brought out a bottle of the Hall's finest.

It began to feel almost like a party. Hally passed around glasses of the hot toddy, and Rosemary made bacon sandwiches with wilted greens. The girls arranged an assortment of cheeses prettily on a platter and brought out jars of spiced apples and brandied pears. Ferdi put his feet up on an empty chair and began to relax for the first time since he'd learned that Farry had run away, the escort hobbits’ frozen caution began to thaw, and Tolly's jokes got wilder as the toddy in his glass slowly disappeared. Only Everard and Pippin, of all the Tooks round the table, remained uncharacteristically silent.

Pippin sipped at his mulled wine morosely without tasting it, and it did nothing to warm him. He hardly heard Tolly's jesting. He cast a glance now and then at Farry – he didn't want to stare at his son, and yet there was nothing else in the room he cared to look at. The lad was tucking into his tray of food as if he meant to make up for all his missed meals at one time.

'Don't make yourself sick now, Farry,' Pippin warned him. 'Your stomach will have to get used to being fed again, lad.' He smiled, not wanting it to sound like a reprimand, but Farry looked back at him gravely.

'I'll be careful, Da,' he said, 'but I am hungry.' Pippin left it at that. He had been far too quick to point out Faramir's faults in recent years, he saw that now, and he meant to make a change. For all the good it would do.

Merry stood up suddenly. He was pale, his eyes shining with something besides the mirth that was brightening the faces of almost everyone in the room, and his smile was a grimace. 'Pip. Come outside with me, will you, cousin?' He swirled his cloak around his shoulders and almost flung himself out the door without waiting for an answer.

Pippin dragged himself to his feet. He felt old, old and cold and ready to hang it up, hang it all up, and let some better hobbit take up where he left off. He fastened his cloak and pulled up the hood, stepping around Ferdi's legs to reach the door and closing it silently behind him.

The laughter had died away when Merry spoke. The hobbits left inside the house looked from one to another, uncomprehending. The crisis was over, wasn't it? What ailed the Master – and the Thain?