Chapter 5. Preparations

‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. 
You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet,
there is no knowing where you might be swept off to...’

—Bilbo Baggins

‘I always like to keep a bit o’ rope handy.’

—Mayor Samwise Gamgee

~ in the Thain’s guest quarters in New Annúminas, about a month before Midyear’s Day and departure ~

‘Midyear’s Day will arrive before you know it,’ Ferdibrand warned his young nephew.

Faramir threw up his arms and plopped himself back down in his chair, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m sick nearly to death of planning!’ he said. Thankfully, this time at least, the lad refrained from pointing out that all the grown-ups’ planning had not been sufficient to stave off a near-disaster while he’d been retracing Tookish history with his Uncle Ferdi earlier that spring. 

Which circumstance, to Ferdi’s mind, scarcely rendered planning a useless activity. Who knew what else might have happened had the Thain and his advisors not planned for every contingency they could think of? It wasn’t Ferdibrand’s fault that an unforeseen contingency had arisen, after all. It had been no one’s fault – save perhaps the engineers whose carelessness immediately after the Troubles ended, years ago though it had been, for not accounting for all the traps the Tooks had set to deter Lotho’s ruffians, had nearly meant the end of certain travellers – meaning Ferdi and the son of the Thain – in that recent mishap.

He firmly jerked his mind back to Faramir’s continued complaints. ‘Why, we’re missing...’

Some market day or other, or a picnic with the King and Queen, perhaps, Ferdi thought to himself, barely refraining from rolling his own eyes at his young nephew’s impatience. Keeping his voice even, he said, ‘We’ll miss the plans we didn’t make even more, young master, in the middle of the Wilderlands, when something unforeseen happens.’

How can someone miss a plan he didn’t make? he heard the teen grumble under his breath before subsiding under the influence of “young master”, the term of address that hobbits of a lower station used with him when he was making their work more difficult, a fact that the youth had somehow worked out for himself. Young Faramir was a sharp one, Ferdi reminded himself, and not for the first time. But let us hope he is not so sharp that he ends up wounding himself – and others who have the misfortune to be walking in his train.

He cleared his throat and took up his quill once more. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘Thain and Master and Mayor have worked out the roster of walkers...’

‘Four hobbits and a Man as we leave Bree,’ Farry reminded his uncle. The size of the travelling party was a point the youth had established at the start and defended fiercely against all onslaughts of adult arguments. 

Ferdi couldn’t help sighing. He’d originally anticipated riding ponies, with Elessar’s Big Men on horses, in sufficient numbers to discourage any ruffians who might catch wind as to the identity of the travelling Hobbits in the group. There and back again, as old Bilbo Baggins might have said, relatively quickly and as uneventfully as possible. But that was not to be the case. Nor had he been able to persuade Faramir that they should take along a full score of Tookish archers, with everyone riding ponies. Haldoron could walk along with them, or he could ride a horse for all Ferdi cared. 

But no. For the sake of authenticity (and he was beginning to detest the very sound of the word), there must be Nine Walkers, at least after they reached Rivendell, and Walkers must necessarily walk. For his part, he was not looking forward to walking the length and breadth of Middle Earth, as it were, but then, what was he but merely a glorified hired hobbit?

Faramir broke into his thoughts. ‘Are you listening, Uncle?’

‘I am,’ Ferdi said, returning to the conversation.

Faramir nodded in satisfaction and continued, ‘And then, after reaching Rivendell, when we set out again we’ll have two Men instead of one, in addition to the Hobbits, along with a Dwarf and an Elf. It has to be that way, or it won’t be right!’ He sighed and bit his lip, blinking a little in consternation. ‘I just don’t know what to do about the Wizard...’

‘Four hobbits,’ Ferdi confirmed, and he touched each name on his list with his quill as he reviewed them. ‘You will be one of them, of course, and it seems that I must be another, whether I will or no.’

Farry sat up straighter at his uncle’s wry tone. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle,’ he said in a complete change of mood, and he placed an apologetic hand on Ferdibrand’s arm. ‘If you truly wish, I can ask my da...’

Ferdi wanted to laugh, though the whole situation wasn’t at all laughable. He patted Farry’s hand and said, ‘No need for that, lad. The Thain has ordered me to make this journey for my own good, he tells me, and so I have no choice but to go – even if you wished to exclude me from the walking party.’ His eyes met Farry’s for a brief glance before he looked away, shrugged, and added, ‘And so, it seems, we must make the best of it.’

As he so often tried to do, as he had done from their first acquaintance when Farry had been but a faunt, he was setting an example for the lad to follow, for Ferdi himself hated lectures. Indeed, he had learnt his most deeply engrained lessons from the lumps he’d been dealt by hard experience.

Well, part of his job was to protect his young charge from too-hard experience, he supposed. Nevertheless, he always had done (and in this situation he would endeavour to continue to do) his best to guide the process in a way that life, as they would experience it in the upcoming weeks, would give Farry the requisite lumps without breaking the young Took altogether. He tapped the list of names with the point of his quill and continued, ‘Merry’s son is too young to represent the Brandybucks, and so the Master of Buckland has suggested that Robin Bolger should travel with us in his stead.’ 

Robin, another of Ferdi’s nephews, being his sister’s eldest son, was about the same age now as Ferdi had been during the Year of the Troubles. Before the Thain’s recent summons, the fellow had been training under Steward Reginard Took and learning the duties of a steward for one of the Great Families. Pippin’s intention, or so Ferdibrand surmised, was that Robin would be able to replace both himself and Reginard, when the time came, in serving Faramir as Thain in later years. With his diligent acquisition of Regi’s accumulated knowledge and experience, paired with the same knack that his mother and uncle Ferdi had for knowing truth – and falsehood – simply from the tone of a speaker’s voice, Robin would be an invaluable asset to the future Thain Faramir in the necessary decision-making and action required of the Thain, not to mention the judgements that Farry as Thain would be required to render.

Ferdi went on, ‘And then, representing the Mayor, the Gamgees are sending Pippin-lad, since young Frodo is unable to go. Samwise and Rose might’ve sent more of their sons along with us to retrace your da’s – er, the Fellowship’s journey...’ Ferdi had not yet become used to thinking, much less speaking, of the Nine Walkers as “the Fellowship”, but Pippin had insisted on using the term, and as a loyal Took, he must obey his Thain to the best of his ability.

‘...but that Uncle Merry is taking Merry-lad to Rohan, as he promised some time ago,’ Farry continued the thought, not seeming to notice his uncle’s stumble, ‘and Frodo, who properly ought to be going, that he might properly represent the Traveller he was named for, must not undertake any such long journey afoot...’ he sighed and shook his head. ‘But then, of course, had he been able to come with us, the Party might have had more than four hobbits, and that wouldn’t do at all, even if he hadn’t broken his ankle badly enough to prevent his walking “halfway across Middle Earth this summer, at least”,’ the youth added, capturing Mistress Rose’s phrasing and intonation with impressive accuracy.

‘As to “the Elf and the Dwarf”, Ferdi said, fixing his nephew with a stern look, ‘I feel the need to repeat that it’s quite presumptuous of you to insist on that particular detail, and there is no guarantee that either or both of them will be at leisure to accompany our contemplated excursion.’ He saw Faramir’s wince, quickly controlled, at the impact of the chancellor’s deliberately pompous choice of expression. But then, the son of the Thain had put his father in a difficult position with his insistence, and one of Ferdi’s duties was to smooth the Thain’s path forward to the best of his ability to ease the burden on the hobbit. The Thainship was difficult enough as it was.

As a stubborn Took and his father’s son, Farry set aside Ferdi’s warning of “presumption”, saying only, ‘It won’t hurt to send each of them a letter, inviting them to meet us at Rivendell. They’re free to decline, of course.’ For Pippin had told only Merry and Ferdi about the letters he’d sent to Gimli and Legolas. He didn't want to get Farry’s hopes up if one or both had to decline for some reason or another.

‘And who’s to send these letters, pray tell?’ Ferdi said. ‘Your father would hardly presume to do so,’ (since he has already, Ferdi thought to himself), ‘nor has he instructed me to do so.’ (And adding my pleas to the Thain’s will scarcely move them to set aside their own plans and duties and responsibilities!)

‘No worries,’ Farry said, and Ferdibrand ought to have been set on his guard at the lad’s light tone, but unfortunately, he took from the teen’s words the meaning that Faramir had conceded this point, at least, in recognising the imposition it would be to ask the Elf and the Dwarf to join the expedition. In point of fact, he was mistaken, as he would discover at a later date.

For his part, Pippin had listened intently as Farry had originally presented his proposal to the Thain and his advisors, back in the Tookland, before they had even come to the Lake for the first half of the summer. Farry’s father had sat quietly, his hands resting on his desk, fingers steepled, nodding occasionally to encourage the lad to speak further. Despite the Thain’s mild manner, however, Ferdi had seen Farry’s father blink at the thought of interrupting the labours of Gimli and Legolas. Pippin might consider inconveniencing any number of hobbits, especially if they were Tooks or Tooklanders, if it suited his purposes – and he invariably had a good reason for doing so whenever he did choose to impose his will on those who looked to him as Thain. Nevertheless, though nominally he was the Thain of the Shire as well as The Took of the Took clan, the hobbit observed strict boundaries and avoided imposing his will upon those residing outside the borders of the Tookland unless his assistance or guidance was explicitly solicited by one or more hobbits from the Outer Shire (as they all too often were) or, more rarely, outside the Bounds. In short, Pippin was no Lotho; he had to this point evidenced no desire to be Chief over all Shire-folk, and there was no indication that he had any such ambitious for the future, either.

Inconveniencing folk outside the Tookland, as opposed to issuing orders and expecting them to be obeyed, was another matter entirely for the current Thain. Asking Gimli and Legolas to leave their labours for a lark, at worst, or set aside their duties at the whim of his young son, to state the matter in a better (though brutally honest) light, was not something Pippin could consider lightly.

As for Haldoron, Elessar’s kinsman and the steward of the Northern Kingdom when the King was away, now disgraced and relieved of his post? As things had worked out, Elessar had pronounced the Northern Steward’s doom not long after Pippin had come to a decision regarding his son’s fascination with historical events. 

Pippin had not explicitly asked for the erstwhile steward’s help in the matter. However, it seemed that Faramir’s desire to retrace the paths of the Fellowship fit well into the King’s plan to acquaint his kinsman more closely with Hobbits and their ways, in hopes that Haldoron might become suited to take up his steward’s duties again in future with a better understanding of a large portion of the Northern population. Oddly enough, the King’s goals paralleled Pippin’s wish to place Ferdi in circumstances where the latter would be forced to work closely with one or more Men, that he might gain some understanding of their ways and, it was to be hoped, might learn – at the very least – to tolerate them. Satisfying young Faramir’s curiosity concurrently with the two leaders, Man and Hobbit, learning the intended lessons set before them would be, as a hobbit might say, “gravy on the taters” or “icing on the cake”.

Kingsmen, of course, had to answer to Elessar’s orders as well as those of officers in the chain of command. For his part, as a Guardsman of the King as well as a Counsellor of the North-kingdom, the Thain’s conscience was clear when it came to making demands of them if circumstances required such. As the Ernil i Pheriannath, he could – and had when he had deemed it necessary – issue orders to various Kingsmen, for example, those guarding the borders of the Shire. 

Pippin also knew that Elessar would grant him any reasonable request, but he typically held back from asking for royal favours, choosing instead to maintain the Shire’s autonomy and not become entangled in Men’s affairs. Moreover, despite their friendly relations with certain Men, Merry and Sam were in accord with Pippin. In fact, the Thain’s resolve, along with that of the Master of Buckland and the Mayor of the Shire, had only been strengthened in the wake of extraordinary circumstances (a compilation of disasters: drought, pestilence, and threatened famine) that had led Elessar’s Counsellors of the North-kingdom to beg the King for aid a few years earlier. 

During that terrible time, the Shire-folk had seen both the worst and the best of Men. When Elessar had lifted his Edict so that his Guardsmen could render aid within the Shire, rogue Men had seized the opportunity to cross the Bounds in their greed to help themselves to the Thain’s gold. Their murderous actions had seriously injured Pippin and might even have killed him, if not for Mayor Sam’s insistence that he should wear Frodo’s mithril shirt “with Men loose in the Shire”, as the Mayor had persuasively argued. The Tooks, who were suspicious of Men in any event and had barred all Men from their homeland during the Troubles, had been incensed at the peril to their Thain. In their eyes, the ruffians’ crimes outweighed all the efforts on the part of other Men working on the side of good. There was no convincing them otherwise, no matter how great the friendship between the Thain and the Men of his close acquaintance, including the King, might be. 

On the side of good, Gondor, Rohan and Ithilien had sent aid in the form of enough food to carry the Shire through the next year’s harvest, and even offered promises of land where the Shire-folk could relocate if necessary, though such a move would have required them to intermingle with the Men already in place. The idea was not as Outlandish as the Tooks made it out to be, considering the Men and Hobbits living in harmony in the Breeland already. 

While such an outcome would undoubtedly have led to the interspersing of the Shire-folk among the other peoples under Elessar’s reign, in the end, it was not to be. Instead, the rains returned to the Shire on the heels of the food shipments from the South, and Elessar reinstated his Edict banning Men from the Shire once the emergency had been resolved. In the days and months that followed, the fierce independence of the Tooks seemed to spill over into the rest of the Shire, increasing the distance between Hobbits and Men, in general, though certain individuals of both races were at pains to maintain friendships across the divide.

In any event, Ferdibrand saw no other alternatives open to him, not even removal to Bridgefields to act as regent to the next Bolger for a few years until young Rudivar should come into his inheritance. He had sworn an oath to serve the Thain and his family in Paladin’s time, and by Tookish tradition, nothing and no one could release him from his oath save the Thain – or Ferdi’s death. Asking the Thain to release him was unthinkable. No, but he was well and truly trapped by circumstances in this case, for the sake of honour and because of the ties of friendship that certain individuals – including the Thain of the Shire and the King of the Western Lands – were at pains to maintain.

‘Uncle?’ 

Ferdi became aware that Farry was staring at him, that his nephew had spoken – had asked a question? He shook himself free of his gloomy consideration and gave a wave of dismissal. ‘Off wit’ ye now,’ he said, leaving off his polished, careful speech for the more lilting tones of the wild Green Hill country. For some reason, he suddenly felt as weary of planning as his nephew. ‘Tomorrow is another day.’

Haldoron, after all, was in charge of organising their supplies and planning their route, in consultation with Elessar, who had walked the entire journey with the original Fellowship. At least Ferdi was spared the necessity of hammering out those details with the stubborn son of the Thain. He wouldn’t put it past Faramir, however, to have spoken to the King about authenticity in all details to the greatest possible extent, however. He could only hope it wouldn’t mean they’d be on short rations along the way.

It was bad enough to contemplate travelling with a ruffian, much less to have to manage it on an empty stomach.

***