Harvests

Chapter 6. Harvests

~ S.R. 1434, Early Autumn. ~ 

Continuity note: The wet spring that witnessed Pippin's return to the Great Smials gave way to a hot, dry summer, culminating in a wildfire that burned from near Tookbank almost to Tuckborough and the Great Smials. If not for the young Thain's foresight, quick thinking and rapid response, the fire might well have burned all the way to the Brandywine River, ravaging the Woody End and all its inhabitants after leaving the Green Hill country to the East of Tuckborough a blackened wasteland. At the time of Tookland's annual archery tournament, described in this chapter, the land and the Tooklanders are still recovering from the effects of the near-disaster.

*** 

'Congratulations, Ferdibrand,' Thain Peregrin said formally, raising his voice to reach the edges of the large, enthusiastic crowd of archers and spectators who had come from all corners of the Shire for Tookland's annual archery tournament. 'You've won the Golden Arrow!' He held the arrow aloft and turned himself slowly from side to side so that everyone in the cheering throng could catch a glimpse of the shining token that was said to go all the way back to the time of Bucca of the Marish.

As a matter of course, after giving the gawking spectators their annual glimpse of this rare historical artefact, the young Thain gently laid the gilded shaft back in its box of polished yew and closed the lid. He then took up the winner's purse, mentioning to Diamond beside him, 'They told me the prizes are richer this year, for many more archers put their names down on the lists compared to the field in the last few years...'

More cheers arose as Pippin turned back to present the grand prize. 

Ferdi bowed to the Thain. But as he rose, the corners of his mouth quirked with what might have been a smile. 'What if I were to ask to have the arrow instead?' he asked under his breath, allowing a flash of humour to show through his usually dour demeanour – dour in Pippin's company, at least, for he was careful to maintain the barrier of respect between them and avoid any appearance of familiarity. Never mind that they were cousins who had played together as children.

Pippin lifted the heavy purse higher, ostensibly to show it off to the spectators, but the gesture had the added benefit of concealing his mouth from the onlookers as he answered. 'Why, I'd give it to you, o' course, and keep the purse for myself! But it's really not worth much more than a brass farthing, you know. 'Tis too heavy to fly far, and as its fletching is made of gold rather than feathers, one cannot be assured of shooting accurately.'

Lighter moment over, Ferdi lifted his cupped palms, and Pippin deposited the purse securely in his cousin's grasp – it wouldn't do to be careless enough as to cause Ferdi to drop the purse and spill the coins within, generating sharply pointed Talk and general disapproval. 

Then the young Thain lifted his hands high and shouted, 'Three cheers for the finest archer in the Shire!'

'O now, did you have to?' Ferdi groaned under cover of the cheering.

'The winner always receives three cheers; you know that as well as I do! Why, if you didn't, then how would you know that you'd won?'

'I should say the thunk of an accurately-aimed arrow would be a fairly reliable sign,' Ferdi answered. He bowed again to Pippin, then to Diamond; lastly, his deepest bow went to Eglantine. 'Mistress,' he said in quiet acknowledgement of one of the few who had defied Paladin's order to shun him for supposedly neglecting his duties as Pippin's escort, though Pippin ought to have borne the better part of the fault.

It wasn't his fault that Pippin had tricked him, nor was he to blame for his younger cousin's decision to leave the Tookland behind him "forever" and settle in Buckland. But Paladin had blamed the escort all the same and had allowed the penalty he imposed – shunning – to continue until the day the old hobbit died.

Strangely enough, Pippin's "forever" turned out to be a lot shorter than the word would imply, for he returned to the Tookland to honour his father's dying wish that he should become the next Thain. Immediately after Paladin breathed his last, Steward Reginard, in his infinite wisdom, lifted Ferdi's shunning before going on to carry out Paladin's last wishes by riding to Buckland to summon Pippin home. Then, upon Pippin's arrival at the Great Smials, Regi elevated Ferdi to the position of Head of Escort to the Thain, thus throwing the two cousins into each other's company on a near-daily basis.

As Regi had intended, Pippin and Ferdi had built an understanding of sorts, though there was no returning to the easy relationship they'd enjoyed in their younger days. In the Tookland's current circumstances, Ferdi went beyond the customary space that Shire society dictated between common hobbits and the gentry. In fact, the older cousin's constraint reflected the determination of all of the hobbits who worked directly with the Thain. After Pippin had taken the difficult decision to admit to the disappearance of the Treasury, those working for him engaged in a conspiracy of sorts to display deference and respect towards the young Thain, shoring up his reputation with the capricious Tooks and supporting the stability of a rather shaky Tookland, considering the state of the homeland's finances.

Following the awards ceremony, Pippin did not really enjoy the traditional celebratory feast, though he put on a good face. He maintained a determined smile, drank all the toasts and proposed a few of his own, and said all the expected words and phrases; nevertheless, throughout the evening, his mind continued to worry away at various problems facing his homeland. These thorny issues included the current level of supplies in the Great Smials store-holes, the relatively scanty harvest due to the summer drought and then the late-summer wildfire that had swept across the fields between Tookbank and Tuckborough, leading to the inevitable question of how they were going to get through the Winter.

As if divining her husband's thoughts, Diamond took up her husband's hand under the table and gave a gentle squeeze. 'Eat, my love,' she said when Pippin turned his head and met her loving gaze. 'It's on the platters and plates already, and it would be a shame for any of this good food to go to waste.'

'It'll go to fatten the pigs, any road,' Pippin answered, assuming his best smile.

Diamond was not fooled, but she returned the smile and said, 'And considering how much they've already fattened themselves on acorns, we can look forward to some lovely bacon and ham and roasted pork in a month or so...'

Pippin's smile grew more genuine, and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

Tolibold, one of the escort, had been watching those sitting at the head table. 'At least somebody's having a good time,' he said to Ferdi, sitting next to him at the escort's table.

Ferdi, who had been picking at his food, took the hint and applied better attention to his plate. 'For my part, I'm just tired, is all,' he said after a few mouthfuls. 'I think my pipes are still recovering from the smoke I breathed a fortnight ago. The air feels awfully close in here.'

Tolly leaned closer. 'If you're not finding enough air to breathe, how is he managing, then?' he muttered, indicating the Thain with his eyes. 'The wildfire near took him down to the grave, or so the Talk goes.'

'I don't have to listen to the Talk to know about that,' Ferdi returned in a low voice. 'Everyone who was here in the Smials at the time heard about the battle he waged to recover from the smoke that rolled over us as we fled the fire-lines in search of breathable air.' He looked sternly at his subordinate. 'And I certainly hope you know better than to spread such ideas...'

Tolly nodded and looked down at his plate, suitably chastised. After a moment of silence, he raised his head again and asked, 'How's Penny?' – naming Ferdi's pony. At a critical point during the wildfire, she had carried the head of escort and the Thain with him out of the immediate fire zone, though the billowing smoke had enveloped them before they could reach the relative safety of the Great Smials.

Ferdi shook his head and sighed. 'Still coughing,' he said. 'Ponies are slower to heal than hobbits, it seems. Old Tom tells me he thinks her wind isn't broken, but only time will tell – 'twill be a month or two, he says – at the least, as he told me – before we can know anything for certain.'

'Pity,' Tolly said gloomily. 'She was one of the fastest ponies in the Tookland.'

'And she will be again, I hope,' Ferdi said. By that time, the banquet was coming to a close, and it was time for the assembly to toast the winners in the various groupings of the Tournament, ending with the toast for the overall winner. Ferdi found it a sore trial to sit through, but at last the ordeal was over, and he gratefully left the feast behind for the sanctuary of his quiet, solitary room, his escape impeded only by the congratulations and slaps on his back from appreciative friends and cousins as he made his way through the celebrating crowd.

Tolly sought to have the last word as he walked Ferdi part-way to his rest. 'Cheer up, cousin!' he said. 'At least you don't have to put up with winning the Tournament for another whole year!'

But Ferdi managed to best him with, 'If any luck at all is with me, perhaps you'll win the Tournament next year instead!'

He left Tolly speechless, which was really just as well.

*** 

'Well, Regi?' 

Steward Reginard knew exactly what his Thain was asking him about, for Paladin had asked about this same topic in exactly the same way. The major events of Autumn were behind them: harvest and hay-cutting, at least in the parts of Tookland not scorched or reduced to ash by the recent fire, followed by the annual Pony Sale, and lastly, the Tournament.

There would be no rest for the weary, of course. Looming ahead of them were Remembering Day, followed by Quarter Day when the Thain and Steward must somehow stretch Tookland's finances to cover all expenditures. Almost immediately after wrestling that problem into submission, Yuletide would be upon them.

'We took in more this year from the Tournament,' the Steward answered. 'Opening the lists an hour earlier meant more competitors, allowing us to collect more entry fees...'

'...and the fact that more entrants would make it possible to offer heavier purses to the winners drew more attention and interest,' Pippin said. 'Everyone wins! ...almost everyone, that is. Hard knocks on the Master of the Tournament and his assistants, of course, what with having to plan for a larger number of competitors.'

'You gave him enough forewarning to prepare,' Regi said. 'In the end, he decided to tighten up the rules regarding elimination so that the last few rounds – the most challenging events – still contained the same number of archers as before.'

'Rather like winnowing, I'd imagine,' Pippin said. 'You just need a good, stiff breeze to blow the chaff away...' 

Regi was silent for a moment, but then he nodded. 'Yes,' he agreed. 'Something like that.'

But Pippin wasn't finished. 'So where do we stand?' he asked. 'Compared to last year, that is, when you were more-or-less running everything for my father? What of the proceeds of the pony sale? And the harvest? I know it was less this year because of the drought and the wildfire, but... how far behind are we?'

Regi pulled the ledger from the corner of the desk and began turning pages.

'And then there's the loss of the purses from the All-Shire Race,' Pippin said as his Steward reckoned the year's hard-fought yet scanty gains and weighed them against the losses they'd suffered despite their best efforts. 'I know we made up some of the lost ground with that windfall of generosity after I admitted that the Treasury was gone... my father ought to have done the same, years ago, poor fellow.' He sighed. 'Struggling along would have been easier, I suspect, if he had not had to bear the burden of concealing the struggle.'

'I know,' Regi said quietly, looking up from the page he was perusing. 'My father steered him wrong. And, into the bargain, he persuaded me to follow in his footsteps, supporting the Thain even as he had done – including withholding the truth about the Treasury from public knowledge. And for that, you have my sincerest apologies, Cousin, for all the good it might do to have them.'

'Water under the Bridge,' Pippin said, and Regi suppressed a shudder at the image. But the young Thain wasn't finished. 'We cannot change the past; all we can do is forge ahead and do the best we can under the circumstances we've been left with.' He sighed. 'It's going to be a long winter, I suspect...'

***