Chapter 88. We make a new start
This next day – the day after the battle outside the protection of Hedge and Dyke – is a quiet day. Tall Bob takes almost all the horses and ponies out in two groups, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. I say "almost" because my dam and I must remain behind for some reason that is beyond my understanding. From the whickers and snorts of my stablemates upon returning, I gather that the grass in the grazing meadow has grown tall and sweet during the time we have been away. Instead of turning us out with the others, after our morning grooming session, Ham walks my dam and me along the street to the marketplace, where the children greet us with joy and relief – and toothsome treats, of course! – and then, after a good long visit, he brings us back again to the stables, where he grooms us as thoroughly as if we'd galloped to Archet and back at top speed.
Bert does not come to the stable the day after that final battle; but the morning after that, I hear his voice – and my little flower! – at the door to the stables, and I turn from my haynet and thrust my head over the half-door to my box stall, whickering joyful greetings. As he and Violet together pull the heavy door aside, the tween calls cheerily, 'Here he is, the hero of the day!'
I look around but see only the other grooms. I wonder which one might have acted the hero's role lately? Perhaps when I was pinned to the ground, under my dam, and unable to see the battle going on around us... Truly, any of them would have stood up against any number of ruffians who were menacing their ponies.
But my wonderings break off when my flower reaches me, and I lower my head to receive her hug. 'My poppet,' she whuffles against my cheek. I simply stand in place, enjoying the moment for as long as it lasts. And then she dances away, clapping her hands, eyes sparkling with delight and anticipation. 'O thank you, Poppet, thank you, dearest Pet, thank you!'
Totally bewildered, nevertheless I nod politely.
Bert laughs and tousles his little cousin's hair with his good hand, for his other arm is bound up in a sling. The bandage on his head sits at a rakish angle, half-covering one eye, but the twinkle in his other eye belies his injuries, as does his cheerful tone. 'That's all and well, Letty, but I think our lad would rather have his breakfast, when all's said and done...'
My flower claps her hands again, winks at me and turns away. When I whicker after her, she looks back at us, Bert and me that is, and calls, 'No worries, Pet! Breakfast is in the pan, and the kettle's steaming on the hob, and I'll be back before you can say "Bob's your uncle"!'
'No, but he's my uncle!' Bert calls to her retreating back as she skips away, to be answered by her tinkling laugh.
I'm not sure what all that pan and kettle and hob business was, for when she returns, she bears a bucket with my measure of morning grain. While I'm eating, she and Bert take care of my morning grooming, with Bert, single-handed though he may be, managing all the higher parts of me that my Violet cannot quite reach. Thus, by the time I've finished my breakfast, washed down with a long draught of water from my bucket and supplemented by a few mouthfuls of hay, I am looking fine. I know this because they tell me so.
'He's looking oh-so-fine!' exclaims my Violet, dropping her polishing cloth in the box of grooming tools. She throws her arms high above her head and spins in a circle of celebration. I am used to her ways and do not startle at the sudden movement.
'Fine indeed!' Bert agrees, nodding his approval as he takes up the box by its handle. 'I'll just put these away...'
He returns with Ham. The latter bears a saddle, half-covered by a saddle cloth. Bert carries a bridle thrown over one shoulder, which he lifts up and holds out to my Violet.
Without having to give the matter a conscious thought, I lower my head to her. As she lifts the bridle to encompass my face, I open my mouth to welcome the approaching bit and then roll my tongue a bit to settle the bit properly while my little flower buckles the bridle in place.
And then Bert bends closer, murmuring to Violet about how she can tell when the bit is properly placed and the bridle is buckled to fit as it should. About halfway through, I realise two things – that he is instructing her, and that she already knows much of what he is telling her, and he is simply confirming what her father or mother already taught her.
Next comes the saddle cloth – Ham, who has set the saddle aside, holds up the cloth for Violet to take, and then the old groom lifts my little flower high enough that she may lay the cloth upon my back, '...and see where you're putting it down, lassie! That's right, a bit forwarder at first, and then slide it back into place to smooth down Bill's back-hairs...'
'But I want to do the saddle myself!' Violet protests as Ham sets her on her feet and turns to take up the saddle once more.
'Letty...' Bert warns, but Ham only laughs.
'Now lassie, you just keep eatin' all the vegetables your mama puts on your plate, and soon enough you'll grow tall enough! But for now, let me lift the saddle up, and then we'll let you fasten Bill's girth – which, come to think on it, is the most important part of saddlin' a beast!'
Bert's instruction to slap my belly as part of tightening the girth draws another protest from Violet. For my part, I look around in reproach. Though I know the common trick of sucking in air to forestall a tightly-cinched girth, this is my Violet! I could never play such a trick on my own little flower!
'It's just a good habit to remember,' Bert insists, 'lest you might someday find yourself slipping to one side or the other or even under the belly of the beast once you're in the saddle!'
I turn my gaze from Bert to my little flower and catch my breath – though I am mindful to let it out again quickly. What is this? Am I to have the honour of bearing my dearest Violet upon my back?
In the middle of cinching my girth, she reaches out to stroke my nose. 'Thank you, dear Poppet,' she whispers again, her eyes shining.
With one arm bound up in a sling and a bandage around his head, young Bert is obviously not fit to perform the usual duties of a groom and stable hobbit. Thus, the stable master (whether this-Bob or his brother Nob was not made clear to me) has decreed that he should earn his keep by instructing Violet – as his first student, with more to follow in the coming days as the tween gains in strength and healing! – in the finer points of pony care and riding. His uncles, this-Bob and Nob, will take turns watching over his efforts and assist when needed.
Now that the days of ploughing and planting and harrowing are past us, instead of spending half the day in my stall and the other half upon the pasture like my stablemates, I find that half my day will be taken up by helping Bert to teach young hobbits of the town how to handle and care for ponies. My dam will also help in this endeavour. Half the coin that the children's parents pay for the lessons will go to Master Butterbur, and the other half to Mistress Rushlight. For his part, Bert will continue to receive his usual pay from the innkeeper.
Since the days are warming, our lessons will take place during the morning hours, and my dam and I will be turned out together with the afternoon grazers.
I cannot think of a finer prospect.
Except, of course, for my Sam's returning to me.
***