Chapter 16. Observances
On Remembering Day, Gorbyl lit a candle in the window for Gorbas, and Wallas placed a candle beside it and lit that one for Dove, for although neither had been lost since the previous day of remembrance, still, Wallas had first heard of Dove's death when he'd wakened a few weeks earlier, and Gorbyl had kept hoping for Gorbas's return up until Wallas had promised not to go searching for him again. There seemed little point in carving candle-boats and joining Bolham's observance with the residents of Bolton and the surrounding area. Gorbyl had set Dove's memorial upon the waters ten years earlier. And Gorbas? For all they knew, he'd gone to Sea, as other hobbits, including a Boffin and a Southern Took, had done before him.
The childer, too, were sombre, and little Lark burst into tears, though she'd never known either mother or uncle. Wallas picked her up and cuddled her close, murmuring soothing words and phrases in an undertone until she quieted. And then he lifted his chin from atop the little one's head and said to Gorbyl, 'But there's more than just candles!'
'O aye,' the old hobbit said. 'There's the stories! And I've made all of their favourite foods, Dove's and Gorbas's, and so we'll feast and tell stories and sing all the old songs...'
'And it'll be as if they're here with us,' young Gorbi said softly, 'gathered just behind us, out of sight...'
'...but not out of mind,' said his younger brother. Lark nodded solemnly from her da's arms.
And then Gorbi concluded, '...feasting and singing and listening to the stories...'
'And so it will be,' the old grandfa said, smiling tenderly at the young ones. 'So come along and set the table! Else how can I say, "The feast is laid!"?'
Wallas had no stories to tell, but he listened well, and laughed, and added his voice to the songs they sang.
At one point, Gorbyl poured goat's milk into Wallas's cup, saying, 'And Dove was always trying to get you to drink tea! "It's so unnatural for a hobbit not to take tea!" she used to say. "Try a sip or two, just a little every day, until you get used to it!" But you would always answer that tea brewed of tree bark was more to your liking than "that awful stuff in the pot"!'
Wallas startled him by laughing and saying, 'I remember!' ...but when he saw the old hobbit's hopeful glance, he added, 'I remember you telling me about it. But I have to confess, I never have learnt to like tea, no matter how much Dove – or anyone else, for that matter – might have tried to get me to change my mind.'
'Stubborn north-Took that you are,' Gorbyl said, but there was no sting in the words.
***
Halfway through November, a knock came at the door, and Wallas got up from the chair where he was telling stories to the childer sprawled on the floor at his feet. Old Gorbyl was sleeping, though it was mid-afternoon; he'd laid himself down after the washing-up from the nooning was done but before starting on tea preparations. Wallas had thought he'd looked tired and pale – so pale, it was as if the old hobbit's skin was tinged with grey, and so he'd said, 'Go to your bed, old gaffer, and rest yersel' a spell.'
'But the teacakes,' Gorbyl had protested.
'So what if we end up with griddlecakes for tea?' Wallas had said. 'I can stir them up just as well as you can! And something hot will go well on this chilly day, into the bargain!'
So now, Wallas hurried to the door, lest another knock should come and disturb the old hobbit's rest. He opened it – to see a tall stranger standing there. Taller than Hawfinch, any road. A north-Took, most likely.
'Wallas?' the stranger said uncertainly. 'I'd been told you'd come back...?'
'I'm sorry,' Wallas said, feeling awkward. 'But I...'
He'd been about to say I don't know you, but he was saved by the childer, who'd jumped up and were now gathered behind him to welcome the visitor.
'It's the Red!' young Gorbi said in excitement. 'Mr Red! We haven't seen you in ever so long! At least a week!'
A week? Wallas thought, confused.
The visitor read Wallas's expression accurately and said, 'I've called several times over the past month, but you and Gorbyl were always out gathering. O' course, 'twould ha' been rude o' me to turn mysel' about and leave without sitting down and telling the childer a story or two, and sing a song with them, and ask after what they've been busy about lately!'
'O' course,' Wallas said with a nod. Old Gorbyl had described how The Red wandered this part of the North Farthing to check on the former members of his band, along with those who lived under his jurisdiction, for he was the arbiter in the local area, responsible for settling any disputes that might arise. Wallas couldn't remember if he'd been appointed to the position or, perhaps, elected, or if the folk hereabout simply looked to him for guidance since the leadership he'd shown during the Troubles.
'I beg your pardon, Gorbi,' the visitor said, bending to address the young hobbit and removing his cap to disclose a headful of dark red curls with a few silver threads. 'Farmers are eternally busy at harvest-time or I'd've come right away to welcome your father home from his journeys as soon as I heard he was back! And then after we finished the harvest, every time I have come by, your da and your grandfa have been busy about their own business!'
When he straightened again, his smile was warm and welcoming, as was the hand he held out to Wallas when Wallas took hold with a firm grasp. And then he shook Wallas's hand heartily, saying, 'Ah, but it's so good to have you home, old friend! We feared...' And then he shook his head at himself. 'There I go again, speaking nonsense!'
The visitor's manner completely disarmed Wallas's caution and set him at ease. 'You meant to say, you feared I would disappear completely like my brother,' he said. 'And it's true enough. I nearly did.'
Red threw back his head and laughed, and then, withdrawing his hand from their handclasp, he wiped at his eye. 'As plain-spoken as you ever were,' he said. 'Ah, but you haven't changed a whit since the last time I saw you.'
He crouched again to exchange a few words with Flam, and then he turned to Lark and his eyes widened. 'Why,' he said, 'who is this charming young lady? She looks a bit like the little lass who told me stories, the last time I was here, and sang me the loveliest song!' He tilted his head as if considering. 'She even had the name of a songbird, as I recall...'
By this time, Lark was giggling, and her older brothers were laughing, and then Red reached out to Lark and sprang to his feet and swooped the lass high in the air, saying, '...and she could fly like a bird, even as you can!'
'It's me, Uncle Red!' she laughed.
'It's you, is it?' Bolham said, sounding incredulous. 'Will wonders never cease!'
And then, tucking Lark into the crook of his elbow, he turned to Wallas. 'Is Gorbyl about?'
'He's not,' Wallas said, which was strictly true. The old hobbit was asleep in his bed and not up and about. 'But if you'd like to stay until teatime, I'm sure he'd be glad to greet you.'
'I cannot stay,' Bolham said regretfully, carefully setting Lark on her feet again. 'I have many more calls to make today. But the reason I stopped was to ask if you wanted your usual spot at the Faire...'
Wallas knew the answer to this question already, for Gorbyl had discussed the matter with him. 'That'll be fine,' he said. 'We don't need to be right in the middle of the bustle... off a side branch from the main stretch of booths is a little quieter, allowing the lass to sleep when she needs a nap...'
'I'm too old for naps!' Lark insisted.
'Or an old hobbit like me, I like my naps, I do,' Wallas said, smiling down at his lass. 'And the folk have found us there year after year, Gorbyl tells me, so they'll know just where to go to find their Yuletide greenery. Why, if you were to move us to a busier spot, they might miss us completely!'
'Very well,' Bolham said with a chuckle. 'I'll mark you down for your usual spot. And the other matter... will you and the old hobbit – and the childer, of course! – be attending our gathering at the farm? I know you weren't quite up to the last one, but this is Yuletide! All the band who can come will be there, and we'll also have some special guests from the South-lands...'
'I wouldn't miss it for the world!' Wallas said honestly, even though he doubted he'd know Ned from Tod by then. But perhaps seeing the faces of the other hobbits who'd been his comrades in resisting Lotho's ruffians would jog his memories. He clung to that hope, anyhow, that and Gorbyl's prediction, When the time is right, you'll see them clearly – so clearly, and likely so unexpectedly, it'll make you wonder why you had so much trouble in the first place!
***
Old Gorbyl seemed to tire more easily these days, and there were more days when the grey pallor returned, such that Wallas insisted on taking over more of the cooking duties and other tasks that Gorbyl usually claimed. But when the younger hobbit expressed concern and asked if they should consult the local healer, Gorbyl demurred. 'It's the cold weather,' he told Wallas. 'Gets into my bones.'
'Then keep warm by the fire with Lark,' Wallas said. When Gorbyl looked sceptical, he added a more persuasive argument. 'I' truth, it would set my mind at ease to leave the lass home and warm... but if we all go out, we ha' to take her with us! She cannot stay here by herself!'
'I s'pose you ha' the right of it, young hobbit,' Gorbyl said slowly, but then he gave Wallas a suspicious look. 'You're not coddling me, are ye?'
'Not you,' Wallas insisted. 'Lark!'
'Verra well then,' the old hobbit grumbled.
To assuage Gorbyl's feelings, Wallas always laid out the greenery they'd gathered that day for the old hobbit's inspection, and only after Gorbyl approved of the day's work would he and the lads tie the assorted evergreen and prickly holly branches together and stick them in buckets of water in the shed attached to the byre. They'd stay cool and fresh there, but the water wouldn't freeze.
By the last Highday before the start of Yuletide*, portending a week to go before the opening of the Yuletide Faire, the shed was full, and their work was done. They'd have a full week of rest with just routine chores. Wallas hoped that the respite would be especially restorative for Gorbyl and not just the rest of them. At least he'd be at home now, and not out gathering with his lads, and so he could insist that the old hobbit lie himself down oftener and for longer than old Gorbyl would, otherwise, without Wallas there to remind him.
***
Meadowsweet's decision not to honour her departed husband on Remembering Day caused a stir amongst the Great Smials Tooks. Compounding the problem and the critical Talk, Mardi had decreed to his brothers that none of them would carve a candle-boat, nor would any of them take part in the observance or the feast to follow in the great room of the Great Smials. Instead, they'd have a small family gathering at the family home in Tuckborough.
Mardi, in his capacity as the oldest brother, obtained Hilly's acquiescence by explaining that he didn't want to upset Meadowsweet when she was so close to her time. He was able to satisfy his other brother Fredebold, with that hobbit's limited understanding, by telling him that they'd planned a special feast, with all of Freddy's favourite dishes; but of course, Freddy was welcome to take himself off to the Smials instead, if he wanted...? Quite conveniently, the small suite that Mardi rented for Freddy at the Spotted Duck was only a few doors down from the healer's smial. Thus, Freddy would be much more inclined to show up at Mardi's door than to walk all the way to the memorial feast at the Great Smials at the edge of the town.
When Pippin was informed of Mardi's plans – which Mardi had every right to make, being the head of that branch of the family – it went against the grain. 'His brothers will carve no boat for the hobbit?' he said, flabbergasted. 'They'll not light his candle and lay the boat upon the water to be carried to the Sea? They'll not even drink a toast to him, or tell a story, or raise a song? What kind of...?'
'A healer kind of plan,' Regi cut in. 'Sweetie is close to her time, but she's still a good week from safely delivering a babe that will be strong and hale enough to draw breath! Mardi is doing all he can think of to help bring about a safe delivery and healthy babe, and that means not upsetting Tolly's wife. For that reason, and as his way of honouring his brother's memory by protecting Tolly's true-love along with his littlest babe, Mardi solemnly insisted that they'd speak Tolly's name and set his boat on the water next year.'
'I don't like it,' Pippin said. 'It seems...'
Regi gave a bark of laughter. 'You?' the older hobbit said. 'A traditionalist? You're going to start now?'
Pippin seized on the idea. 'Ferdi's such a traditionalist,' he said. 'Surely...'
Regi shook his head. 'Mardi also went to him and pleaded his case,' he said. 'And o' course Ferdi understands. And so he promised that he would mourn with them. Next year. And devil take the Tooks if they grumble about it!'
'Very well, Regi,' Pippin said. 'And since the Tooks still listen better to you than to me, for I've not been Thain long enough for them to begin to heed me, I will leave it to you to bedevil anyone who chooses to besmirch Tolly's brothers or his wife or his closest cousin with any scurrilous Talk about this matter.'
'You can leave it to me, Thain,' Regi said, his expression equally grim. Watching his Thain take as deep a breath as his damaged lungs would allow and then let out a heavy sigh, he softened slightly and offered what comfort he might. 'Though I do think at least some of the Tooks are beginning to listen to you. At least once in a while.'
The corners of Pippin's mouth tightened in what might pass for a smile. 'Thank you, Regi. For my part, I hadn't noticed, but I'll take your word for it.'
***
A little more than a fortnight after Remembering Day, Meadowsweet was relieved of her heavy burden.
'A fine, strong babe, for all she was a month early,' Regi said, pouring steaming tea into Pippin's cup from the teapot he'd brought to the study, along with the news that had just arrived from Tuckborough.
'A lass?' Pippin asked.
'Isn't that what I said?'
The Thain sighed. 'O aye,' he said. 'That's just what you said.'
And keeping to himself the thoughts that caused him to swallow hard, sniffle, and rub at his eyes, Pippin picked up his pen, dipped it slowly and deliberately in the inkwell, and began to jot down notations on the paper before him, letting the tea go cold in the cup sitting beside him.
***
Author's note:
*"Yuletide" is a general term used in my stories to refer to the month of Foreyule on the Shire calendar, in general terms, marking the time when preparations for this important seasonal celebration ("the return of the Light" when the days start to lengthen again) begin in earnest. More specifically, the days of Yuletide as celebrated start at the beginning of the week ending in Yule 1 and finish on the highday of the week beginning with Yule 2, making a fortnight of celebrating, with parties, gatherings, balls and dances, and such. The use of the term is meant to help readers who (like me when I began writing fanfic) aren't all that familiar with JRRT's calendar. According to the Tolkien Gateway website, the month of Foreyule runs from 20 November to 19 December, and 1 Yule corresponds to 20 December on modern calendars. In the same vein, Remembering Day falls on the day the Travellers arrived in Bywater, one day before the Battle of Bywater which took place on 3 November according to JRRT. I have no idea if he simply translated "Blotmath" to "November" or, perhaps, if he did the date conversion from our calendar to the Shire calendar, which would put Remembering Day around 13 Blotmath. Numbers have never been my strong point. Ideally, Remembering Day should fall on the Highday (which I see as a half-holiday celebrating the conclusion of another week in the life) closest to our All Saint's Day.
***