Chapter 3. Fare-thee-well (...and Good Riddance)

That evening saw the great room's tables and chairs restored to their places and filled almost to capacity, this time for a farewell party in honour of the hobbits who would be departing on the morrow. With the exception of Meriadoc Brandybuck, the Heads of all the Great Families had departed soon after the convocation had ended earlier in the day. In contrast to those who lived in the main part of the Shire, the Bucklanders faced two days' travel to reach their home soil once more. General wisdom dictated staying over in one of Tuckborough's inns or in the guest quarters at the Great Smials and starting fresh – and early – the following day in order to reach the half-way point at a reasonable hour. 

Although Merry and Estella had accepted Pippin's invitation to stay on for a few days after the convocation, the bulk of the Bucklanders who had come in response to the Thain's summons were making ready to depart and travel to Buckland in the morning. Travelling with them would be a party of Tooks: the Thain's chief engineer, Aldebrand, who was in charge of any project involving digging and building, and four of the hobbits who worked under him. They would spend some time in Buckland adding to the knowledge they had already gained from Merry's engineers regarding the uses of black powder. From what Aldebrand had told the Thain and Steward after returning from Buckland to attend the convocation, the stuff would be eminently useful for blasting holes in hillsides made of rock that was nearly as hard to move and as stubborn as the Tooks themselves. 

In contrast to the generally negative opinion that many Tooks and Tooklanders held regarding Buckland and the hobbits who lived there, the Tookish engineers didn't seem at all reluctant about leaving again for the Wilds to be found on the wrong side of the Brandywine River. For example, Everard, Steward Reginard's younger brother, had an eminently reasonable explanation for his willingness to leave the Tookland for the Wilds of Buckland instead of staying sensibly at home. He had gained his Tookish cousins' grudging acceptance by referring to the generous table Master Meriadoc was known to keep, even "mighty generous", in the tradition of one of Merry's predecessors, Gorbadoc Brandybuck. That said, Everard was no "fool of a Took"; he proclaimed himself not at all tempted to go out boating on the River as Frodo's parents had famously – or, rather, infamously – done, to their doom. Not to mention which had something to do with Frodo himself sailing away on a ship, never to be seen again, in the privately (and not so privately) expressed opinion of many Tooks. 

'So I have no doubt that you'll come back again,' Regi told his brother after the farewell supper ended, slapping the budding apprentice engineer on the shoulder. 

'Rather like a bad penny,' Tolly was heard to mutter to Ferdi, for the gathering was a muddle of hobbits of rank in the Smials and "working hobbits", what with Everard being obliged to balance between the two groups. Working hobbits (some of whom, it must be admitted, were descendants of the Old Took who either chose freely or were forced by circumstances to earn their bread) and members of the gentry might rub elbows in living together under the shelter of the Great Hill. Nonetheless, they certainly did not mingle casually, what with the gentry's need to "keep up appearances" and the working hobbits' need to assert their proud independence and ability to stand on their own two good feet – not to mention the merciless chaffing that one who stepped out of his place would inevitably receive from his erstwhile fellows. 

Rather than taking umbrage at this sentiment of Tolly's, Everard turned away from his brother towards the small group of hobbits of the Thain's escort, comprising Ferdi, Tolly, and Tolly's younger brother, Hilly, and laughed. 'Ra-ther!' he said cheerily. 

Thain Peregrin, standing uncomfortably on the "gentry" side of the room (for the two groups, even when joining together to farewell their departing friends and cousins, somehow maintained the distinction even without necessarily thinking about it), hefted his already half-drunk-up pint of ale. 'To bad pennies!' he declaimed. 

The company as a whole broke into laughter, lifted their glasses, and echoed the toast before taking hearty swallows. 

Pip had a way of seeing past divisions and distinctions and – even more difficult – getting others to set aside their differences and unite as if under some wizard's enchantment, Regi mused as he lifted his glass and drank to the young Thain's comical toast with the rest of the hobbits gathered there. This unique quality among the volatile Tooks was one of many reasons why he'd thrown all his influence and staunch support behind installing Pippin as Thain after old Paladin breathed his last. 

Truth be told, Pippin's supporters had been rather thin on the ground at the beginning, comprising Reginard in his official capacity as Paladin's Steward, along with Mistress Eglantine. Some attributed Eglantine's partiality to Pippin being her son, of course, but Regi knew better, having worked closely with Thain and Mistress throughout Paladin's years as Thain, and even more closely with Eglantine over the past year, when ill health had confined Paladin to his bed more often than not. The Mistress was a force to be reckoned with. And Diamond and young Faramir joined the party of Pippin-supporters, of course, upon arriving at the Great Smials. 

By now, Regi hoped that at least some Tooks might be starting to warm to the Succession. After Pippin and his party had returned from the Lithedays celebrations and All-Shire Race held at Michel Delving, Ferdi and those serving under his leadership had magnified the respectful mien that the escort customarily employed into downright deference directed at the young Thain. The behaviour of the hobbits of the escort had at first appeared rather calculated, even to the mind of the unimaginative Steward, but they persisted in their efforts, and their continuing show of staunch support was now having an impact. Because of the Tooklanders' high regard for the escort as some of the finest archers in the land, others were beginning to follow suit, or so it seemed to Regi. Among those who treated Pippin with elaborate courtesy these days were Healer Woodruff and her staff (though considering the Tooks' feelings about healers, perhaps their support was rather more of a liability than an asset), as well as the chief engineer and his assistants and apprentices. It was a pity that Aldebrand and his hobbits were again departing for the Wilds of Buckland, which would cut the number of Pippin's supporters in the Smials proper nearly in half. 

As he continued to ponder the course that lay before them, Regi contemplated the string of tiny bubbles rising in his glass, paying little attention to the cheerful talk that swirled around him. As a matter of course, his younger brother and their cousins did not count his apparent absorption against him. It was only natural that he'd be sombre in light of Everard's departure in the early hours of the morning. 

Yes, Pippin has a difficult row to hoe, or so Reginard had overheard Mayor Sam say to the Master of Buckland before the Gamgees departed for Hobbiton. Regi had also overheard Master Meriadoc's response, describing the Tookland's plight, as well as the situation facing her Thain, as "having to row upstream without any oars in the oarlocks". Both of the Travellers had shaken their heads and then, just before climbing up on the waggon seat to drive his family homewards over the fields that lay between Tuckborough and Bywater, Samwise had added that he had complete confidence in Merry's younger cousin. (As did Regi, for what it was worth.)

Merry had hugged Samwise, clapped him on the back, and wished him a safe journey. Only Regi had been close enough to hear their parting words: 'Keep an eye on him for me?' 

'As often as I can.' And Sam had turned away and clambered up onto the seat beside Rose. He took the reins from his wife's hands, slapped them on the ponies' backs, and called, 'Get up there!'

Pippin had lifted his hand in the air and called, 'Don't take any bad pennies!'

Merry had moved to Pippin's side and slapped him on the back before farewelling the Mayor with 'Don't hoe any crooked rows!'

But Samwise had surprised them both by laughing and calling over his shoulder, 'Make sure you've got oars in the oarlocks before you cast off any ropes!'

As Regi had turned back to the Smials, he'd heard a befuddled Pippin asking Merry, 'What does he know about oars – and oarlocks?'

To which Merry had simply answered, 'Well he knows about ropes, at any rate!' And Pippin had laughed.

As if an echo of the young Thain's laughter, a burst of laughter following on the heels of another joke recalled Regi from his remembering. Even as he turned his attention back to the present celebration, however, he shuddered at the thought of oars and oarlocks, in general, and boats, in particular. 

Everard shouted, 'Not taking cold, I hope, Brother!' 

'Not as cold as that great menace of a River you'll soon find yourself on the wrong side of!' Regi returned. 'And you had better not keep quaffing the Thain's best brew if you know what you're about. You'll have a big head in the morning as it is.' 

'We'll be stopping off at the Cockerel halfway,' Aldebrand, the Thain's Chief Engineer said. 'Adding insult to injury, as it were.' 

'Best beer on the Stock Road,' Samenthal, Aldebrand's Chief Assistant reflected. 'Why, I'd call that a blessing, instead. Almost worth the journey in itself.' 

'And of course we'll have to stop at the Golden Perch; why, it's right on the way to the Bridge!' 

'It'll take you forever to get to Buckland at that rate! Why don't you take the Ferry instead?' Pippin said in feigned astonishment. Or perhaps not so feigned. 'Why, you'll be able to cut hours off your travelling!' 

At his cousins' outburst of derision and scorn (for the ale had flowed freely this night, and the farewellers were acting more like cousins at this moment than Thain and Tooks), the young Thain lifted his glass in a silent toast to all and sundry and then sipped, and Regi, because he was standing at Pippin's side, heard the hobbit say, more quietly, 'Your loss, then,' though the others likely did not. 

'To the Crowing Cockerel!' Samenthal said, raising his glass. 

'To the Cockerel!' everyone in the crowd answered. 

And it seemed that Pippin was not to be outdone. 'To the Golden Perch!' he called.

His Tookish cousins appeared to forgive him his mention of such a thing as a ferry as they all raised their glasses and drank to the Thain's latest toast. 

Regi drank with the rest in response to both toasts, shrugged as if consigning his younger brother to his fate – an early start and two days in the saddle after an evening of hearty feasting and drinking. Then he sank back into his thoughts, ignoring the talk and laughter that continued. 

There were, of course, varying degrees of suspicion and Talk floating around the Smials, to the effect that young Pip had somehow managed to misplace Tookland's treasury or had perhaps gambled it all away at the All-Shire Races. 

The situation couldn't be helped. The Tooks loved their Talk, the wilder the better, it seemed. While they might admire the courage Pip had shown, standing before the gathered assembly that had come to hear his pronouncement, they certainly had little trust that he'd be able to lead them through this crisis. In that light, it was a good thing that the Tooks and Tooklanders trusted their Steward, Regi supposed, though he'd have to watch his step or he might well find himself proclaimed Thain in Pippin's place, if some one or another influential Took could figure out how to legitimately set aside the Succession. And, considering how he'd be hoeing the same blasted row with a broken, dull, rusty hoe that Pip was currently stuck in, well, he didn't care to contemplate his homeland's prospects if worse came to worst. 

Pip reached the end of a rather involved story, and the entire room erupted in laughter, including those that Regi had heard arguing bitterly against Pippin as Thain not so long ago. The jest must have been quite clever, indeed, but then, the young Thain had a way with words. Regi laughed, too – heartily, even, though he'd not heard a word of Pip's tale. His support for the Thain must be seen as unwavering and obvious in all things – including the jokes he had not heeded. In his estimation, Pippin was the Tookland's only hope at this juncture. 

For they would need some sort of magic to unite the recalcitrant Tooks in any venture going forward. Ferumbras had managed the People and the land through benign neglect. By contrast, Paladin had, in a sense, had the advantage of circumstances in the form of a common enemy – Lotho's louts, like a blight overrunning the Outer Shire but kept at bay by means of Tookish stubbornness and determination. 

The former farmer's good sense had helped Paladin resist Lotho's importunings and flattery and outright attempts at bribery and bullying. In addition, he'd marshalled his forces with a canny understanding that still made Regi, unimaginative hobbit that he was, marvel. 

Then, when things had been looking their darkest, Regi had beheld Pippin, returned from the dead, grandly escorted by half a dozen Bywater lads on ponies and clad as if he had stepped out of a book of knightly deeds. Taller than Regi he'd grown, though only a year earlier, before the three cousins and that gardener-fellow had left the Shire for the Outlands, Regi had been able to look down his nose at his young cousin. He had watched in wonder as Pippin, still only a tween by reckoning, organised the Tookish archers in the courtyard of the Smials into orderly ranks, somehow giving off the impression that he was an old campaigner, one who'd seen numerous battles and knew what was what. 

He had heard Pippin call, 'Now gather round!' The archers had crowded closer, circling the tween, though some of them grumbled – What did a tween think he was doing, issuing orders to seasoned resisters who had kept Men twice their size at bay these past months? 

Regi had watched as Pippin stood, waiting, his head high, his gaze clear and confident in the light of the torch held by Hilly, standing beside him, as he turned to survey the surrounding archers. 

And as Regi watched and listened, in growing astonishment, the grumbling had died down, melted away as the morning frost before the Sun's assault. Eventually, silence reigned, the courtyard grown so quiet that the guttering of the torches in the slight breeze was clearly heard. 

Regi had watched Pippin turn a full circle as if to take in every single archer; it had felt as if Pip was taking in every face, every eye that was fixed upon him, even every thought in the archers' heads. And then the tween stood still, set his feet in a battle stance, and stood even taller, somehow, though he already stood a head above all but the tallest of the archers (and topped even them by several inches). And Regi (like the rest, truth be told) found himself holding his breath as the son of the Thain opened his mouth and began to speak. 

In truth, Regi did not remember all the words the hobbit had spoken. There was something of magic in the moment, as if the tween cast a glamour over the crowd, an enchantment woven of mingled confidence and determination. Pippin had spoken, and the Tooks had responded. He had spoken as if winding up a spring in a Dwarf-crafted toy, winding it up, and winding and increasing the tension with a skill and subtlety that Regi did not register at the time and could barely credit in retrospect. Where had a mere tween learnt the art of putting heart into a body of soldiers facing the daunting prospect of larger, stronger foes? 

The son of the Thain spoke, and the Tooks nodded agreement. He spoke further, and some of the Tooks waved their bows in the air in response. He called out a question, something about how the Tooks had kept the ruffians from crossing the border, and a dozen voices called answers from the heart of the crowd, and Pip had nodded in his turn. 'Good for the Tooks!' he had shouted, turning in a circle again to take in all the archers and drawing a roar from the crowd. 

Regi had watched Pippin move through the crowd and vault lightly into his saddle at the head of the company, pull a bright sword from its sheath and wave it above his head, gleaming with deadly promise in the torchlight. 'We march!' Pippin had cried. 'We march to throw the refuse out of the Shire, for Good!' 

The cheer that had gone up had sent a shiver down Regi's spine – in a good way, as for the first time in months, he'd allowed himself to hope that, yes, the Shire-folk might have a future after all. 

When the company of Tookish archers reached Bywater, Regi had been aware of the Brandybuck, first of all – his cousin Merry, also newly returned from the dead. The mail-clad Bucklander would command the coming battle, it seemed. Upon the arrival of the Tookish force, he laid his plans quickly, conferring with Pippin and an older hobbit in farmer's clothing named Cotton and the leaders among the five score of Tooks who had marched to Bywater's aid, including Reginard. 

Pippin had accepted Merry's direction unhesitatingly (But then, hasn't he always? a cynical part of Regi had said, deep in the back of his head), and following his lead, the Tooks carried out the Brandybuck's orders in taking their places. Merry had split the archers into three parts: he split four score of the archers into two bodies who'd take cover in the hedges lining both sides of the road. The fifth score of archers – with Regi commanding – had charge of 'shutting the barn door to keep the cows from escaping', as Pippin put it cheerily, sparking laughter in his hobbits, even under these grim circumstances. The tween seemed to be in many places at once in the whirlwind of preparation, while Merry took his stand in the midst of the archers lining one side of the road, overseeing the whole and calling orders to Pippin as the two cousins organised the defence, supplementing the Tookish archers with local townspeople armed with a variety of implements and improvised weapons such as hayforks and shovels. 

Then the ruffians had arrived. Regi's score of archers boxed the oncoming ruffians in by pushing waggons they'd hidden in a field into the road to block escape; then they took up their bows and nocked arrows to the strings, grim-faced and ready. Merry, as Commander, informed the ruffians that, as they could plainly see, they had walked into a trap, and ordered them to put down their weapons. Such was his tone that a few of the Men began to obey, only to be set upon by their fellows. 

Regi's memory of events became somewhat muddled then. A score or more of the Men had charged the waggons. Regi remembered shouting orders to his archers whilst he aimed and loosed his own arrows, one after another, hearing the deep thrum of five-score Tookish bowstrings all around him, seeing some of Lotho's Men stagger and fall... but other Men pressed forward in desperation, in fury, in a killing rage... 

Under such an overwhelming force of taller foes, Regi's archers were forced backwards after firing several volleys of arrows, overcome by the Men's strength, size and numbers. He brought them quickly back in order even as some Men broke free, ordering half of his remaining archers to face inward to contain the rest of the Men still within the trap, and the other half to turn outward to send wickedly-tipped hunting shafts in pursuit of the fugitives. Two of the fleeing Men fell to those arrows as the initial body of escaping ruffians scattered in the direction of the Woody End. 

At that juncture, two of Regi's archers, close cousins of his, lay crumpled on the ground and would never rise again. After he deemed the remainder of the escaping ruffians were beyond bowshot, Regi called his hobbits to face inward again to cover the Men still trapped in the circle, wavering as if stunned by the turn that circumstances had taken. But Regi fell to his knees to check first one and then the other of his fallen cousins. 

'Are they dead?' someone called, his voice thin. 'Ash...' 

Regi shook his head in answer and heard sharp intakes of breath from some, sobs from others. And then Pip's voice rang out, piercing but filled with confidence: 

Hold! Stand fast! Stand fast!

Through the rushing sound in his ears brought on by his grief, Regi heard the sound of a horn – Merry's horn, he determined later – clear and loud and demanding. Echoes of answering horn calls sounded in the distance. Then Pip spoke again, as easily as if no tears marred his cheeks at seeing his cousins cut down. The words that emerged were as confident as before, spoken boldly enough to put heart into the timidest hobbit: They won't get far! Grimly, the son of the Thain added, All that country is alive with our hobbits now! The remaining Tooks waved their bows in the air and cheered, along with the hobbits of Bywater interspersed in their ranks. 

Seeing their foes apparently distracted, the mob of Men still trapped in the lane began to climb the barrier and the banks, quickly bringing the hobbits' attention back to their own troubles. Bows sang and axes swung; the battle became a confused blur punctuated by desperate fighting that seemed to go on forever... until it suddenly ceased... all the combatants seemingly turned into statues, silent and frozen in place, the living momentarily rendered as motionless as the bodies, large and small, strewn around them.

Those were the memories that Regi took away from the Battle of Bywater. Sometimes, though, he thought about seeing Frodo Baggins spoil the aim of one of Regi's archers who would otherwise have shot a Man who'd laid down his weapons. His Baggins cousin had saved the Tooks from the soul-killing act of slaying unarmed foes, and Regi blessed him for it, wherever he might be now. 

Regi had barely registered the presence of that gardener-fellow at Frodo's side, sword in hand, as if guarding his Master from harm, though the Steward now knew him slightly better as Mayor Samwise. He could, if he tried, recall something of the scene when nearly seventy of the ruffians lay dead on the field and the hobbit combatants encircled about a dozen survivors in a wide ring. Burying the dead hobbits, binding up the wounds of the thirty or so who were injured but living, and the nightmare journey with the slow waggons, bearing the injured and wounded back to the Smials, those memories he did his best to forget. 

But the Steward's memories of Pippin in the midst of the battle stood out brightly from his blurred recollection of the aftermath. The tween had seemed to be everywhere in and among the Tookish archers, calling encouragement and direction, bringing fresh energy and purpose in that nightmare scenario, stiffening and strengthening the increasingly desperate wall of defenders. Near the end of the battle, the son of the Thain had charged into the deadliest part of the fray, shouting, Stand fast! Fight on, Tooks! Fight on! – with Merry beside him, both of them dealing death with their shining blades. 

Regi remembered being nearly overcome a second time, wavering in the face of an overwhelming force – too many Men, energised by the shouts of their fellows who had broken through on the west side, who now advanced on his depleted body of archers despite the hail of Tookish arrows that cut a dreadful swath. The archers around Regi were giving way before the onslaught, beginning to fall back under the unrelenting pressure... Even Regi had been forced back a step, still defiantly drawing his bow, though the weapon was nearly useless at such close quarters, as he gave up yet another step in reluctant retreat. 

At that critical point, something in Pippin's voice, some magic, some spell had strengthened him again; taking the arrow he'd nocked in a firmer grip, he slashed at the club-swinging Man coming at him. At first he was merely seeking survival; then with growing ferocity after he ducked the swing of the club and stabbed the Man holding it, Regi wielded the wicked, razor-sharp hunting barb that tipped the slim wooden shaft as if it were a spear or rapier. He had a vague impression of the archers around him doing the same, and somehow... the thin line of Tooks held. 

Thus, Reginard, Steward of Tookland, would never forget how Pippin's leadership had tipped the balance between disaster and victory. 

'Regi? Another glass to see us off?' Ev'ard's voice broke into his older brother's thoughts.

The Steward shook his head. 'I've had enough, I think,' he said. He raised his nearly empty glass to Everard. 'Safe journey,' he intoned, 'and may the smell of a good supper greet you upon your homecoming.'

'I'll drink to that!' Everard said cheerily and clinked his glass against Regi's.

After drinking their private toast, the brothers set their glasses down on the nearest table and exchanged a back-thumping hug.

'You take care o' yourself, and that feckless young Thain,' Everard said.

Regi shrugged. 'He can't be half as dangerous as fooling about with quantities of black powder,' he replied.

'I wouldn't want to bet on that,' Everard said.

But all Regi had to say to him was, 'Good night, Brother. I'll be in the courtyard all too soon to see the lot of you sorry engineers off on your way.'

*** 

Author's note:

Some details in this chapter come from 'The Scouring of the Shire' in J.R.R.Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring.

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