Chapter 34. Starting Fresh

Old Tom the head of the Thain’s stables sucked on his empty pipe as he looked the young hobbit up and down. ‘Tell me again,’ he said slowly. He waited for the disrespectful outburst, the inevitable look of annoyance and disdain.

Faramir repeated respectfully, ‘I would like to sell my saddle for a fair price, what it is worth and not a copper penny more.’

 ‘You would like to sell your saddle,’ Old Tom said slowly. ‘Does the Thain know of this?’

 ‘Yessir,’ Farry said. ‘You may ask him if you like, but I’d rather take care of this without bothering him.’

 ‘I see,’ Old Tom said, nodding. If the lad were selling the saddle without the Thain’s knowledge, undoubtedly the lad would get a scolding and a new saddle soon after. It was no skin off his teeth. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Let us take a look.’

They walked to the tack room where the saddles were kept. Old Tom lifted the saddle down from its hook as it was heavy for a lad of Farry’s age, and besides, protocol kept the lad from doing anything useful. He placed it on the stand and opened the shuttered windows to let the sunlight stream in.

The saddle gleamed with polish and rubbing and Tom’s eyebrows rose. ‘Someone’s done a fine job,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t assigned anyone to clean your tack as of yet, for all you arrived yesterday. The regular lad who does the tack is ill.’

 ‘I cleaned it,’ Farry said quietly, and the old ostler looked from saddle to lad and back again. ‘I want it to fetch a good price.’

 ‘Are ye in trouble, lad? If it’s a matter of debts...’ Tom said, though he could not imagine one of Farry’s tender years owing anyone.

 ‘No,’ Farry said. ‘I just want to sell it is all. It’s a fine saddle.’ His hand went out and he caressed the shining leather before he stood straight again. ‘Can you find a buyer, d’you think?’

 ‘I’ll buy it myself,’ Old Tom said. ‘I should turn a silver penny or two at the Yuletide market, if I decide not to give it to one of my own sons.’ He didn't want to insult the lad by speaking his thoughts: the Thain would pay him his money back when he came to reclaim the lad's saddle. Tom would keep it safe until he found out which way the wind was blowing, save a lot of fuss and bother that way.

 ‘A fair price,’ Farry reminded him, ‘and not a penny more. If I find you’ve overpaid me...’

 ‘Don’t you worry, young sir, I’m not in the business of charity,’ Old Tom said, stung. ‘You wait here a moment,’ he added, and the son of the Thain nodded.

Tom was somewhat surprised to find Farry still in the tack room when he returned with a bag of coins. He’d half-expected to hunt up the lad only to be laughed at — was he really thinking to buy the fine saddle? ...told it was “only a jest”. ‘Here you are,’ he said, holding out the bag. ‘What your saddle is worth, not a penny less, nor more.’

Farry took the bag, weighing it on his palm. There would be enough to pay the farmer twice the value of the food he’d taken, and enough left over to give Ferdibrand something — not enough, for not even all the gold in the Thain’s hoard would begin to repay Farry’s debt — but something. ‘I thank you,’ he said formally, with a bow. Tom lifted the saddle to another hook, but as he turned to go the lad stopped him.

 ‘Sir?’ he said.

 Tom turned half-angrily, muttering, ‘You don’t have to “sir” me, young sir,’ but at the look on Farry’s face he fell silent.

 ‘I was looking for work,’ Farry said.

 ‘You don’t have enough to do,’ Tom said, ‘you’re looking for some sort of diversion?’

 ‘Nosir,’ Farry said, staring him straight in the eye. ‘My father wants me to learn something useful.’

 ‘Your father...’ Old Tom said, at a loss for words. Talk around the Smials was that the Thain had no time for his son, what with the cares of Tookland and the Shire on his shoulders. Was this a ploy to get the lad out of his hair and occupied with something other than mischief? Was Thain Peregrin making the head of the stables a child-minder? The Thain didn’t have the energy to watch over the lad himself, it seemed. Tom had heard that the healers and the Thain’s wife had popped the hobbit into his bed following his coughing fit at the the bonfire the previous evening and threatened to keep him there a week or even a fortnight.

 ‘I told him I wanted work to do,’ Farry said, ‘and he told me to ask around the Smials.’

Tom nodded. It sounded like some sort of test, to see if this was a mere whim on Farry’s part. ‘And you’ve asked?’

Farry flushed. ‘I asked in the kitchens and the laundry and I asked the head gardener,’ he said. ‘None of them would take me on.’

Tom took his pipe from his mouth and examined it minutely before replacing it. ‘Well then,’ he muttered. He was about to make an excuse of his own when he thought of Ferdibrand, who’d taken the lad under his wing, risking his life for the lad on one occasion, though he was busy with a family of his own and the many responsibilities the Thain loaded on him. Tom had figured it just a part of his duties, but for the day Ferdi had been leaning against the fence, watching Farry at a riding lesson.

Tom had paused to watch as well. ‘He looks well,’ he’d said.

 ‘There’s some good stuff there,’ Ferdi had answered. ‘He’ll be a jewel amongst hobbits once the rough edges are polished off.’ Tom had looked at him in surprise, but the Thain’s special assistant had only laughed and slapped at his knee with his riding crop. ‘Standing here won’t get my own ponies any exercise,’ he’d said. ‘G’day to you, Tom.’

 ‘The pay is a copper penny for a full day’s work,’ he said now, surprising himself.

Farry nodded, looking uncomfortable. Thought too much of himself to take what any starting stable lad was paid, perhaps.

 ‘Well?’ Tom said.

 ‘I’m sorry,’ the lad answered, shuffling his feet before standing straight again. ‘I cannot work a full day, for my father would have me study with the tutor from breakfast until nooning. Will you take me on for half-days?’

 ‘Half-days,’ Tom echoed.

 ‘I’m free from nooning until teatime,’ Farry said. ‘Four solid hours of work, and I would work hard, sir.’

 ‘Make it after nooning to teatime,’ Tom said, ‘for I’d not want you to miss the noontide meal. A hungry worker has his mind on his stomach and not on his work.’

 ‘Sir?’ Farry said, hardly believing that Tom was giving him a chance.

 ‘Ha’penny for half a day’s work,’ Tom said, ‘if you come back after teatime to finish.’ The Thain never worked past teatime, but then he didn’t have stalls to clean, tack to polish, and ponies to exercise. He half expected the lad to turn away, but instead Farry thrust out his small hand. Tom was surprised to find it hard and firm, with developing calluses as if the lad had already been putting it to good use for some days.

 ‘Done,’ Farry said. ‘You won’t regret it.’

 ‘You start tomorrow, first thing after noontide,’ was all Tom said. The lad reminded him of someone, a young Pippin, perhaps, or Ferdi, who always did what he set his mind to. Somehow Tom thought the lad was right. He wouldn’t regret it.