Increasing Clarity

Chapter 19. Increasing Clarity

'I could kick myself for not asking Agate to come wi' us in the first place,' Bolham said from the hearth where he sat beside Gorbyl. He gestured to the lads to sit themselves down as well. Lark had calmed somewhat, and now she huddled in the north-Took's lap, half-covered by a fold of his cloak and leaning against his chest as if taking comfort from the sound of his heartbeat. Patting the little one's back, he added, 'There's hobbits here who could use a healer, or so it looks to me.' 

To the Tooks who had arrived with him, he said, 'I was certain it was all some kind of misunderstanding. I'd no idea...'

Hilly eased himself to the floor by his brother's side. 'Tolly?' he said again. He squeezed the stricken hobbit's hand, partly in an attempt to offer reassurance and partly in an effort to rouse the hobbit.

Bolham said, 'Hilly, there are blankets in the chest just inside that bedroom door. I fear that your brother might take a chill, lying there on the floor as he is.'

'His brother?' young Gorbi asked, staring at The Red in confusion. 

Little Lark looked up and said in a wondering tone, 'Is Uncle Gorbas come home again, then? And all the sad things will come untrue?' 

The simple words went straight to the young Thain's heart. Pippin, now kneeling at Tolly's other side, bowed his head and covered his eyes with his hand. How were they ever to untangle this sad situation?

On hearing Bolham's order, though The Red had phrased it in the form of a suggestion, Hilly glanced at Pippin; however, he was wise enough not to wait for verbal reinforcement from the Thain. He got up from the floor and went to the door Bolham had indicated, and soon emerged into the main room with an armful of blankets. 

Before returning to Tolly, he moved to the hearth. 'Are we going to leave him there on the floor?' he asked. Bending down, he offered some of the blankets he held to The Red, saying, 'Is the old fellow warm enough, or could he use another blanket or two?'

Bolham took one of the blankets Hilly bore, then nodded the escort towards his fallen brother. The north-Took stood up, gently placed Lark on her feet, and bent over Gorbyl. After spreading the additional blanket over the old hobbit, he sat himself down and lifted Lark into his lap again. 'There, lass. Bide here with me a wee spell, and we'll see what's what, shall we?' 

Reaching out and touching Gorbyl's hand, he said to the old hobbit, 'You're so cold!' 

Gorbyl closed his eyes and turned his face away.

Bolham's brow creased with concern, and he asked, 'But how are you, old friend? Tell me truly now, and don't try and fob me off. I can see as plain as the nose on my face that you're ill.'

The old hobbit's face was grey and strained, and deep circles haunted his eyes. 'I...' he whispered, and then his eyes moved from his Captain to the two strangers kneeling on either side of... of the hobbit he'd called "Wallas". 'I'm sorry,' he said.

'Nothing to be sorry about,' Bolham said. 'From what the childer told me, you saved his life! And I, myself, had no reason to believe he was not Wallas when I met him...'

'The childer?' Gorbyl said, confused.

'O aye,' Bolham said. 'For you know how I wander the Wood when the wind blows me restless, to see that all is well and if someone might need somewhat... I've been by here a few times when you and... "Wallas" were out in the Wood or the field, gathering. And since I was here anyhow, it always seemed right to sit down and talk about whate'er the young ones had on their minds at the time...'

'Saved his life?' Hilly said from where he'd seated himself on the floor at his brother's side.

'O aye,' Bolham repeated. 'For they found him more dead than alive in the midst of some bramble vines, and took him in, and never left him alone until he woke up again.'

'But we're a good five miles from where his pony was found, and even farther from the bog where his hat was found floating, and the searchers thought...' Pippin said in consternation. 'The searchers went more than two miles in all directions from where the pony was found, as well as from where his hat came to rest...!'

Though Bolham was already familiar with the facts the young Thain had recounted, having taken part in both the north-Tooks' and the Tooks' search efforts, The Red nodded when the Thain looked back at him. He then said slowly, 'And I'm thinkin' – now – that he was never near the bog at all – thus, it seems likely that he was not in the bog, any road. His hat could just as well have blown off his head as they were galloping towards the Wood, for the storm in which he was lost was a fierce one. Fro' what the childer said...' 

Bolham's look grew far away as the words trailed off into silence. His brow wrinkled again as he took apart what he'd thought he'd known and moved the pieces into new positions, arriving at a totally new picture of events as they might have happened. 

At last, he said, 'It seems reasonable to me to conjecture that he was with the pony on the southern track, the one that crosses the southernmost part of the Wood, when that lightning bolt struck. I could well imagine that he might still have been south of the Wood when he saw the storm gallopin' towards them, crowned with lightnings – for it came from behind him, and he might not ha' looked over his shoulder until he heard the grumble of the thunder. Seeing the black sky and lightning quickly overtaking them, I can imagine him seeking safety under the canopy o' the Wood to avoid getting caught in the open, e'en though it would have taken him out of his way. When looking at things that way, the theory that the pony spooked and fled after his rider came to grief i' the swamp doesn't hold water.' 

He smiled grimly. 'In a manner of speaking. That the pony was struck by lightning was one of the few things we were sure about from the signs we found – its injuries, and the spiralling burn scar on that tree right by the roadside where the pony lay. In fact, it could even be that the bolt struck the hobbit directly – if he were standing closer to the tree with the spiralling burn? If that were the case, the pony's injuries might have been less serious than the rider's... Hawfinch said they were able to coax the beast onto its feet, and he had one of the hunters lead it to the nearest farm whilst he continued to direct the search for the rider. Only after dark fell did he follow and search the saddlebags and begin to try to put the burnt pieces of the documents in the bags together.'

But Pippin had fixed upon something Bolham had said at the beginning of his musings. 'From what the bairns said?' he protested, dumbfounded. 'Are you saying you knew...?'

'Nae, lad, keep a tighter hold of your ponies,' Bolham said easily, though his eyes bored into Pippin's in warning. Jumping to conclusions all too often leads to a fall! Aloud, he said, 'Don't let them go runnin' away with you. No, but just this minute, I've put two and two together, and it's quite possible that four has come out of it after all.'

'I don't understand,' Pippin said, moderating his tone.

In his worry for his older brother, Hilly paid little heed to the conversation. 'Tolly,' he said, stroking back a stray lock of Tolly's hair, which had grown out somewhat longer than he'd worn it before and now reflected the style common to the hobbits of the North Farthing. He spoke again, gently patting his brother's cheek with his flat palm. 'Tolly, do you hear me?'

Bolham watched the two brothers for a moment and then quietly took up his narrative once more. 'The childer told me some weeks back,' he emphasised, calmly meeting Pippin's gaze, 'that he'd dragged himself almost to their door – but they didn't know where he'd started i' the first place. They thought maybe he had gone up the Oatbarton Road and turned off before he reached Bolton and then crawled along the track between Bolton and here, though that would be a good five miles, as well, compared to travelling through the Wood from where the pony was found on the track to Needlehole. The bramble patch where Gorbyl and the childer found him is nearly due East o' the clearing and just off the track that passes by the cot.'

Pippin nodded and pulled at his lip, considering. He'd noted a large patch of brambles as they'd slowed their ponies just before turning in at the yard. 

The Red broke off talking and pulled the blanket a little higher on the old hobbit, muttering something about the healer taking so long... 

Then he resumed his explanation. 'Old Gorbyl told the little'uns the hobbit had been without water for as much as three days, going fro' the signs he recognised.' He shook his head. 'Frankly, I blame myself for not looking closer into the matter... but it never crossed my mind that Wallas had not come home but that some other hobbit – your missing Took, who seems to bear a remarkable resemblance to him, at least to my eyes – could possibly have dragged himself from the East-West track in the Southern Wood, five miles through the underbrush and brambles and logs and trees between there and here, and with the injuries the childer told me about! ...burns, most likely from the lightning bolt, as well as scrapes and slashes... and who knows what damage might've been done under the skin and inside his skull, for that matter?'

'Five miles,' Pippin breathed. 'I always knew he was a stubborn Took.'

Hilly had begun listening, and now he asked the question that had been gnawing at him. 'But why, when he wakened, didn't he tell them he wasn't Wallas...?' he began, looking from Tolly to the north-Took.

'He wakened not knowing who he was, or where he'd come from,' Bolham said. 'That much I do know. And again, to my mind at the time they told me about finding him, it was Wallas who'd lost his memory, perhaps from the injuries he'd sustained, not to mention the added ordeal of trying to drag himself home. Indeed, I thought it quite fortuitous that he had somehow remembered enough to take him almost all the way to the cot, to his family, before his mind failed him altogether.'

Pippin nodded slowly. 'That explains so much...' he mused. 'My cousin is such a creature of duty; the only reasonable explanation for his not returning home again seemed to be that he was dead. But now...' he blinked and then continued, 'I can see how so completely losing his memory could keep him away from home and loved ones quite as effectively.'

'And added to that,' Bolham said, 'he looks so much like Wallas...'

Little Lark gulped at this and began to weep silently, huddling in a miserable ball in Bolham's lap. The Red gently stroked her back and murmured softly to her, though there really was no comfort to be had for the lass, not as the situation currently stood, anyhow. Her brothers were equally bereft: tears also streaked Flam's cheeks, and young Gorbi's face was pale and solemn. None of the youngsters made a sound. By contrast, their grandfather seemed to have lapsed into sleep and was snoring softly, perhaps warmed by the fire and the cocooning blankets, though his colour had not improved.

Hilly stared down into his brother's slack face, crooning, 'Tolly?' He looked up again. 'Can't we put him in a bed or something... somewhere more comfortable than the floor, at any rate?'

Bolham eased Lark off his lap. 'I'd like you to sit here, lass,' he said. 'Can you sing your grandfa a song?'

When she shook her head in reply, he patted her shoulder. 'That's all right then,' he said. 'Just bide here for a moment whilst we get your da up off the floor.' He waited for her nod before he pushed himself to his feet and turned to the lads sitting on the hearth by Gorbyl's other side. 'Gorbi,' he said to the older lad. 'Show us where to bear him to his bed.'

Between them, Pippin, Hilly and Bolham lifted Tolly and carried him to the bed he had used since his arrival, or so young Gorbi told them. Once his brother was comfortably settled, Hilly sat down in the chair next to the bed. 'I'll wait here until the healer comes,' he said.

Pippin nodded and followed Bolham from the bedroom to the kitchen hearth, but his eye was drawn by the painting propped on the mantel. 'But that's...'

He leaned closer. 'That's...' he said again, pointing to the hobbit couple.

'...Wallas and Dove,' Bolham said. 'It was painted at the Summer Festival and special market in Bolton the year before Lark was born.' He smiled at the memory. 'Aggie and I took charge of the little'uns — I carried young Gorbi around the market on my shoulders, and Aggie held little Flam, so their parents could sit for their portrait. It was Wallas's birthday mathom for Dove and the childer...'

'But...' Pippin said, perplexed. 'I could swear it's Tolibold!' He picked up the painting and tilted it towards Bolham, even as he continued to stare at the painted figures.

'As I said,' Bolham agreed. 'I even thought the hobbit was Wallas, those times we talked together, and though I had known the lad well back in the day, I myself excused anything he said that did not quite fit as being due to his having lost his memory.' He shook his head then. 'I ought to have brought Agate to him right away, or him to my Aggie, for she became acquainted with such afflictions when we were resisting the ruffians...' 

But he did not expand on the thought. Instead, he scrutinised the painting as if he had never seen it before, and then he seemed to compare in his mind Tolly, as he'd seen him recently, to the painted hobbit. 'There's an astoundingly close likeness between them, and no doubt about it,' he agreed at last with the young Thain's assessment. 'It's easy to see how the two might be mistaken for each other. Especially since your fellow's face was bruised and swollen when they found him...' 

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'Even after he healed, they – well, all of us, actually – could explain away any differences as left over from his injuries.' He shook his head. 'E'en I fell prey to the idea. But then,' he said, 'it has been close on ten or eleven years since I'd last seen the hobbit. People do change over time; and that fact also made us all the less likely to question the resemblance.' He shook his head, his eyes troubled, as if he blamed himself for coming to the wrong conclusions.

'And this is Dove?' Pippin said, still studying the painting.

'The childer's mother, aye,' Bolham said heavily. 'Died in the fever that swept the Shire, shortly after Lark's birth.'

'He never saw her in his dreams,' old Gorbyl moaned. 'I ought to have known...'

'Dreams?' Pippin asked curiously. He gently replaced the painting on the mantel and sat himself down on the floor nearby, though he was careful not to crowd the young hobbits since he was a stranger to them.

Bolham stood quietly, listening.

'He said he saw people... places... that he felt he ought to have known,' Gorbyl said, opening his eyes and fixing them upon the young Thain. 'One morning he told me he'd dreamt of a raven-haired lass with stormy eyes...'

'Meadowsweet,' Pippin said low, though he did not say anything more about Tolly's wife, not with these motherless children staring at him, wide-eyed. The enormity of the situation was starting to sink in. This small family of north-Tooks sitting (or lying) before the hearth had taken Tolly into their home, had nursed him back to health and adopted him as one of their own, and now the Southern Tooks were about to tear the hobbit away from them. 

Gorbyl cleared his throat, making Pippin realise that the old hobbit had more to say. He raised his eyes from the floor to meet Gorbyl's gaze once more.

'I'm that sorry, and there's no forgivin' what I did – or didn't,' the old hobbit said brokenly. His eyes broke away from Pippin's questioning gaze and looked towards the bedroom where Hilly was keeping vigil with Tolly.

'Did he tell you who he was?' Pippin asked quietly. Bolham exchange glances with the Thain and nodded, for he'd been about to ask the same question. 'Are you saying that you knew, at some point, that he was not Wallas?'

'I did know it,' the old hobbit sobbed, lifting his hands with an effort to cover his face. 'At least – I began to know it when...' But he did not seem able to continue.

'It was when we saw the stag attack Lark,' young Gorbi put in. The lad reached over Gorbyl to hug his small sister, sitting quietly enough now but wearing a tragic expression as the silent tears continued to spill from her eyes. As he sat back again, he added, 'I began to wonder, too, but I didn't want to think such a thing. And I didn't want to worry Flam or Lark...'

'How did ye...?' Gorbyl gulped, lowering his hands from his face and staring at the child.

But it was the younger lad who answered his grandfa's question. 'That night, you said at supper, you'd never seen Wallas shoot so well, ever before, in all your days,' Flam said numbly, and swallowed a sob. He flashed a look at his older brother, adding, 'I knew, just as much as you did, Gorbi! But I was afraid... I thought if I didn't say anything, then it would all go away, and Da would be our Da, and everything would be all right – and it wouldn't be true.' To his grandfather, he said, 'I still remember what you said that day, Grandfa. It was such a shot as only the finest archer in the Shire might've made...'

'Or one of the finest,' his older brother said, remembering. 'Better than anyone in Bolham's band, you said. But how could it be?'

'But he is, indeed, the best in the Shire,' Pippin said softly. 'He is, at that.' He met Bolham's eye. 'As I told you in my letter of introduction, Tolly was – he is my head of escort. The position is awarded to the winner of the All-Shire Tournament, or the next one in line that is qualified to accept the position... Hobbits come from all four Farthings, and Buckland, to try and win the golden arrow.' He shook his head. 'Why, we've had archers come all the way from Bree for the chance. Though of course, only the highest-ranking Took is offered the position of head of the Thain's escort, though he must qualify in every area and not only with his archery skills.'

'Run far, shoot accurately, ride with skill,' Hilly murmured from the bedroom, for he'd been listening to the talk in the outer room.

At the same time, Pippin was saying, 'In any event, Tookish archers always seem to claim the top spots among those who compete. In past years, even as a tween, Tolly always finished among the top three contenders in his class, and this year, he finished first, above all the others who matched themselves against him. Thus, not all that long ago, he truly did prove himself the finest archer in the Shire... before he lost himself.'

*** 

In the midst of the bustling throng, Eglantine spied Ferdi and Nell and their brood eating fried, sugar-sprinkled cakes and watching a juggler perform. Pushing her way through the crowd, the mother of the Thain made her way to them. Amidst the claps and cheers, she spoke into Nell's ear, 'Ferdi's wanted!' Considering the other Tooks surrounding them in the crowd, she thought it best not to mention Tolly's name.

Nell turned her head to reply, 'Did Pip send for him?' 

But her mother pulled at her arm. Puzzled, Pimpernel started to gesture to Ferdi to stay with the children whilst she followed the Mistress, but Eglantine shook her head vigorously and pointed to Ferdi, then made a "follow-me" gesture.

Bolham's two tweens who were walking with the visiting Mistress, immediately understood her intent. They moved ahead of Eglantine and parted the crowd before them as they led the Mistress of the Tooks and her daughter's family to the relative quiet of the Third Breakfast common room.

'Yes, Mistress?' Ferdi said once the heavy door shut out most of the noise of the Faire-goers in the street. 'Did the Thain want something from me?' 

Eglantine took Ferdi's hand in hers. She looked from his face to his Nell and back again. 'It's possible that Tolly's been found.'

Ferdi stared at her, obviously not taking in the words. 'His body?' he said thickly. 'They've found his body at last?'

But Pimpernel had understood almost instantly. 'He's alive?' she gasped. 'Tolly's alive?'

Eglantine watched the play of emotions across her son-in-love's face: incomprehension – grief – impatience – annoyance – and finally, sudden understanding and the dawning of hope. As she saw hope emerge, she nodded. 'The Thain and The Red, along with Hildibold, have gone to investigate the report.'

Pimpernel pushed at Ferdi. 'They'll never find you in the crowd when they come back with tidings, whether for good or ill,' she said. 'We should go back to the farm and wait...'

Ferdi looked down at her face and then around the circle of children. 'No,' he said, but before anyone could protest, he added, 'I don't want to subject you all to a wait that may be long and anxious! ...perhaps even fruitless, just as before,' he added in a lower voice. But then he straightened his shoulders and said firmly, 'No, but you and the children walk the Faire, my love. We're only here for the day...'

...and it would add regret to grief should the report prove groundless, he didn't have to say. 'For myself, I'll go back to Bolham's farm,' he concluded. With an attempt at a smile, he added, 'That way I'll be on the spot if someone should return with good news!'

'O how I hope...' Pimpernel said, her eyes shining with all the words she wanted to say.

Ferdi bent down and kissed her cheek. 'My Nell,' he said. 'Heart of my heart. I don't want to leave you...'

'Do go!' Nell said with another gentle push. 'And when the news does come, for good or ill... One of Bolham's family will likely know where to find us since his tweens are showing us the Faire!'

'Bad news will keep,' Ferdi said. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. As he released her, he promised, 'But if there's good news...'

'We'll be waiting with bated breath,' Nell said, and her older children chimed in to say much the same.

For his part, Ferdi did not wait any longer. In the next moment, he had left the Third Breakfast and closed the door behind him. Having been introduced to the back-ways of the Faire by Bolham's tweens just now, he made haste to the edge of the town and then took off at his fastest pace for Bolham's farm.

*** 

Thus, Tolly's closest cousin was on the spot when Haldi galloped into the yard on a hard-ridden pony, shouting for a healer as he pulled the beast to a stop. 

Bolham's wife, Agate, stood waiting with Ferdibrand. Instead of seeing to the last-minute preparations for the anniversary gathering of Bolham's band, she had tasked the maids and hired hobbits to ensure the trestle tables and benches were in place, the food preparations – all that had not been made ahead – were well under way, and the planned-for finishing touches were added to the decorations. 

For the last hour, since Bolham's forehobbit had informed her of developments after saddling ponies for her husband and the three Tooks with him to ride to the green-gatherers' home, she had stood at a window facing the lane, watching for the arrival of some kind of news. Once he had arrived and found her waiting, Ferdibrand had alternated pacing with staring out the window. 

Agate had some idea of what was going through the hobbit's mind. She'd spoken at length with Tolly's grieving cousin on that final night, weeks earlier, when the Tooks had given up the search and were preparing to return to the Great Smials the following morning. Her heart had broken for him, along with the others who'd come to search for the Thain's Messenger, Tookish cousins who had scoured the countryside fruitlessly for several days to try and find the missing hobbit – or signs of him – or even a body to carry home to his wife. 

By contrast, Agate was now hoping against hope that they might just reap the reward of better news this day. After hearing from the forehobbit what the Thain's other Messengers had told Harlow when they'd conveyed Bolham's order for four ponies, Agate had checked the supplies in her healer's bag and dressed for riding. 

She honestly didn't know what to expect. It might be a false report. Alternatively, if the hobbit was the missing Took, he must have been injured somehow, perhaps unable to communicate? ...and that was why he'd been seen for the first time at the Faire. And what if old Gorbyl had been taken seriously ill? She couldn't imagine him agreeing to return home for a minor malady.

She fretted that Bolham had not sent for her immediately, but she also understood that he was minimising the impact on the herb-gatherer and his family should the report prove false. Thus, when Ferdi had arrived, pale and tense, some time after The Red and the Thain had departed, she had turned her attention to calming the nerves and managing the expectations of this close cousin, closer than a brother to the missing hobbit, it seemed. 

At seeing the lone messenger pelting down the farm lane at a gallop, she scooped up her healer's bag and hurried from the smial, with Ferdi immediately behind her.

'Haldi!' Ferdi shouted. 'Is it...?'

'The fellow I saw – he looked like Tolly,' Haldi answered in a lower tone as they reached him. He did not want to alert any lingering Tooks who might be within hearing distance of a shout. He slid from the saddle and patted the lathered neck. 'Well done, lad.' The pony blew in response, head drooping.

'Looked like...' Ferdi echoed.

'Well they hadn't established just who the fellow was by the time they sent me off for the healer,' Haldi said, with a slight bow for Agate. 'Mistress...'

'The moment Harlow saw you gallop in, he would have saddled a fresh pony so you could return with us,' Bolham's wife told him. 'It will be no trouble for him to unsaddle the beast if your orders are to remain here for some reason.'

Sure enough, the forehobbit emerged from the stables towing three finely-bred ponies behind him. 'Swift messengers,' Agate informed the two Tooks as the three of them hurried to meet him. 'Bred for speed as well as stamina and sturdiness.' She fastened her bag to the saddle, took the reins from Harlow and mounted. A flash of breeches showed under her skirt and petticoats as she threw her leg over, and as she eased herself into the saddle, she smoothed her skirts to drape evenly over the pony's sides. 'Much more comfortable than a side-saddle,' she said to everyone and no one as Ferdi accepted his mount with thanks and Haldi exchanged his weary pony for the fresh one Harlow offered.

'There!' she said, turning her dancing pony towards the lane. 'All comfy? Then follow me!' 

***