Chapter 25. Reparations

In the morning the Tooklanders thanked Hally and Rosemary for their hospitality and set out for home. Regi trailed a little behind, catching up to them a mile down the road, having lingered to press a well-filled purse into Hally's hand. 'It's the Thain's orders, and not worth my skin to bring it back to him,' he told the reluctant woodcarver. 'Your wife saved his son's life, as like as not, and you had the nuisance of the crowd of us here all these days. Let Peregrin pay his debts like an honourable hobbit!'

He swung himself up on his pony, cantering after the others. When he reined in next to Pippin he nodded once, decisively, and Pippin smiled.

'He took it?'

'Aye, he took it. With a little persuasion, mind.'

Farry, riding next to his father, looked from one to the other. 'What?' he asked. 'Who took what?' Pippin opened his mouth to tell the lad this was a grown-up affair and none of his concern, but then he hesitated.

Ought he to be training Faramir to be Thain? He had not been, up until now. The lad had seemed too young and careless, and his own health too precarious, for it to be needful – if he died before Farry came of age, Reginard would be the next Thain, whether he wanted the title or not. But how if he did not die? Merry had the right of it, when he said no one knew how many sips were in the cup. I might drag on as I am for years on end, he thought, and die only just in time to drop the burden onto Farry's shoulders. I'd better begin preparing him.

'I had Reginard give Hally some gold coins for his trouble, putting us up all those days,' he answered the child. 'It was an expense for him to feed us all, you know, and Rosemary took care of you, too, as skilfully as any healer. It is right they should be paid.'

Faramir hadn't thought about that; childlike, he had taken it for granted that there would be food on the table at mealtime, and even that someone would care for him when he was sick. His thoughts went back to his night in the haystack, before Ferdi had caught up with him; his hunger, when he'd had to find his own food.

Not 'find' it, he thought. I didn't find it lying in the road. I took it. Stole it. It wasn't a pleasant reflection, and he was very quiet the rest of the day. I'm a thief. He remembered Uncle Merry's questioning, when he first woke up from his illness, and Robin's rebuke. A thief and a liar.

They stopped early and made camp; Pippin would have pushed on, to reach Tuckborough as soon as possible, but Regi persuaded him to stop for Farry's sake. 'The lad's less than a week out of sickbed. Don't wear him out,' he warned, but secretly his concern was for Pippin himself. The Thain was breathing well; riding out in the mild weather was good for him, but it didn't do to let him get overtired. They might have ridden on for another hour and stayed at the Cockerel, but the night promised to be mild, and camping out in the woods might excite less comment than the group of them staying at the most popular inn between Tuckborough and Stock.

Farry tended to his pony, then helped gather wood for the fire. The escort watched him covertly, exchanging glances of amusement: the Thain's lad was still enamoured of work, apparently. After they had eaten, they sat around the fire as night closed in. Hilly told a long, rambling story about a hobbit in the Marish who wagered his wife that he could do the housework better than she could, with disastrous results, and their laughter rang in the darkness, with Farry rolling on the ground in hilarity – it was an old tale, but it was new to him.

'What pictures can you see in the stars, Farry?' Pippin asked when the lad was quiet again. Farry looked up.

'There's the Hunter,' he said. 'And the Bear.'

'Can you see the Twins? No? Look – there, and there – you see?'

'Oh, yes! I can see them now. Which star is Earendil's, Da?' His father turned him and lifted his hand, till he was pointing into the heavens.

'That one, Farry. See it?' The child nodded, staring in wonder.

'And is it really a jewel, then? Is it the Silmaril, and is Earendil sailing it across the sky?'

'So they say, Farry.' He wrapped his arms around his lad, kissing the top of his head, breathing in the warm, earthy fragrance of a child who's been out all day in the open air. Faramir turned in his arms, clinging to him and burying his face in Pippin's shirt. A sob shook him, and then another.

'Farry, what's wrong?' There was no answer, only another sob. 'Farry, look at me! What is it, lad?' It's my wretched health, he thought in despair. How long has he lived in fear, and I did not know? And how can I help him, now that I do know? But Farry's answer, when it came, left him speechless, groping for a reply.

'I shamed you, Da! I'm a liar, and,' gulp, 'I'm a thief, as well!' He broke into a storm of crying, burrowing against Pippin and nearly knocking him backwards onto the ground. Pippin struggled to keep his balance without letting go of his son.

The other hobbits around the fire got up and moved away quietly into the darkness, spreading out their blankets and making ready for sleep. This was the Thain's business to deal with, and the less said the better. But Ferdi came to sit by Pippin and laid his hand on Farry's back, rubbing in slow circles. Pippin met his eyes, questioning, and Ferdi nodded.

'Farry. Shh, shh, lad, enough now. That's it, that's my lad. Don't cry, my heart; tell me about it. What did you steal?'

'E-g-g-s.' It came out in a shuddering gasp. 'And milk.' He looked up blearily into his father's face. 'I was hungry, Da; I was so hungry! I thought they'd give it to me, but I couldn't ask, or they'd make me go home. So I took it and I thought it would be all right, but it was stealing, I see that now.' He buried his face against his father's chest again, but managed to hold back his tears.

'And you lied, when Uncle Merry asked you if you had anything to eat,' Pippin guessed, and Farry nodded without looking up. Pippin glanced helplessly at Ferdi.

'You will have to pay reparations to the farmer,' Ferdi said, speaking to Faramir. 'By custom, twice what you stole.'

'But I don't have any money!' the lad whispered. Pippin started to speak, but Ferdi put a hand on his arm, shaking his head.

'It is up to you to make it right, Faramir,' he said. 'You will have to find a way to get the money, and not by asking your father for it, either.'

'I can't,' Farry wailed. 'How can I?'

Ferdi was implacable. 'Earn it by honest work,' he said, 'or sell something you own. This is your debt to pay.'

Farry lifted his face, considering. 'I don't own much worth selling,' he said slowly. 'My pony's not even mine, not really.' He thought a moment. 'But the saddle is mine, isn't it, Da? You gave it to me on your last birthday.'

'Yes, I did. The saddle is your own,' Pippin agreed.

'So I could sell that, though I don't know what I'd do for riding then.'

'Learn to ride without a saddle,' Ferdi said. 'Not as comfortable, but not impossible.'

Faramir absorbed this idea, his face thoughtful in the firelight.

'And if you want another saddle...' Ferdi continued, and Pippin looked at him sharply. How did Ferdi know that the Thain was trying to think of a plausible way to replace Faramir's about-to-be-lost saddle as soon as might be?

'You can work to earn the coin,' Ferdi said. 'Save your earnings until you have enough to buy another one.'

Farry sniffled. 'What work can I do? I learned to milk at Woody End, but the milkmaids do that at the Smials – I don't think they would let me help!' He hoped not, anyway. Milking was fun, when he went out to the byre with Robin and his brothers, squirting a stream into the mouth of the nearest cat, racing each other to fill their pails. It would be a different matter entirely, with the giggling milkmaids of the Great Smials.

'I was grooming stalls well before your age,' Ferdibrand said. 'Polishing tack, wheeling a barrow of pony droppings to the manure pile, sweeping, washing, lifting, hauling.' He grinned at Faramir. 'How do you suppose I grew strong enough to keep up with your da? Took me years of work, building up strength and endurance.'

And character, Pippin thought. 'And I wasted much time when I could have been doing the same,' he said aloud. 'I built strength and endurance the hard way, walking halfway across Middle-earth and back again.'

'I'll put in a word for you with old Tom,' Ferdi said, 'if the Thain has no objection. He may be able to find you something to do in the stables, so you can earn the coin for a new saddle.'

It will be the talk of the Tooks, Pippin thought wryly, but then he grinned. The Tooks were determined to talk about his family, it seemed, and Faramir especially. Better let them gossip about the lad's unusual taste for manual labour, than his penchant for mischief.

'The Thain has no objection,' he said. 'None at all.'