The Farmer’s Son

Introduction:

When I first started writing about the Shire, I had a clear image to follow, a possibility that started with the timeline in the Tale of Years and embroidered upon it. An entire culture and society sprang up in the back of my mind; names took on personalities and lives of their own. It was rather like putting together a crazy quilt or stitching away at a tapestry, pieces and threads coming together, each a part of a whole that was much bigger than the individual pieces.

But there were certain aspects that I found unsatisfying. Certainly, I had set up the dynamics for maximum character growth, a facet of writing that fascinates me. But writing earlier on the timeline, before Farmer Paladin was soured by his unexpected elevation to Thain, I came to like the good Farmer, and to wish he’d been dealt a different hand of cards. “Stern” or “grim” Paladin is based on a small snippet of description in “The Scouring of the Shire” - his reaction to Lotho’s self-elevation to “Chief”. However, if one turns the kaleidoscope just a little, the brilliant pieces form a completely different pattern. And so, taking a different look at the Shire as it might be, this story emerges.

In the previous stories, I emphasized the class system hinted at by Sam’s deference to Frodo, and subtle cues in speech patterns between farmers such as Maggot and Cotton, and the gentry as represented by Frodo, Pippin, and Merry. Sam reminds me of Bunter, in the Lord Peter Wimsey books - Bunter’s relationship with his lord came out of the trenches of World War I. I believe that Bunter was a batman, was he not? (Not Batman, the comic book hero, but rather a British military officer's orderly. Bunter was a sergeant, anyhow, very loyal to Lord Peter. He dug Peter out when buried in a trench collapse, and later came to serve him when Lord Peter was incapacitated by shell shock, and stayed as his butler, prop, and right arm through all of Lord Peter’s crime-solving endeavours.) I can’t leave off the class distinctions, for they are evident in the book, but they’re not as important in this story because of the setting.

This view of Paladin emerges from Pippin’s description of his father as farming the fields around Whitwell, near Tuckborough, combined with the descriptions of Paladin’s response to Lotho, the Tookish response to the ruffians (interesting, in the re-reading, to note that the Tooks shot first), and Paladin’s dealing with the ruffians to the south while sending all he could spare to the Battle of Bywater.

(By the way, the geography of this story might be a little different from that of previous stories, which were based on maps laid out in The Atlas of Middle Earth. While Whitwell is mentioned in JRRT's text, it is not on his maps. The Atlas of Middle Earth places Whitwell on the road that runs south from Waymoot (Waymeet), on the far side of Tookbank. That doesn't sound "near Tuckborough" to me. Thus I am placing Whitwell in this story between Tookbank and Tuckborough, perhaps as a small farming community on the outskirts of Tuckborough.)

This will be a different Paladin than you’ve seen in the previous stories, though in a sense he’s the same character - he’s just got an alternate history, which has shaped him in a new way. You’ll see many familiar names that have featured in previous stories; they, too, may be somewhat different, but they retain the same qualities that helped them keep the Tookland free during the time of the troubles, and I hope they’ll be recognisable, even though their character development takes a different path than previously.

***

p.s. Do not worry about the other WIP (if indeed you were); they continue to be "in progress".

Chapter 1. A Long-Expected Party

Autumn was well under way, and harvest was proceeding smoothly despite Paladin’s good-natured grumbles, which happened every year about this time, what with September passing as it was, and the Twenty-second drawing near. It was decidedly inconvenient that Certain Hobbits celebrated their Birthdays during harvest. Paladin’s children had sensibly timed their arrivals to avoid the busy seedtime and harvest, and the farmer (though there was always a twinkle in his eye as he pontificated this point - and always a blush on Eglantine’s cheeks, though she’d hide a smile) didn’t see why other hobbits could not be as practical.

‘Of course you may go, dear,’ Eglantine broke in, taking pity on her youngest. She shot a reproving glance at her husband, and then smiled at Pippin once more. ‘You’ve been planning on helping Frodo with his removal to Buckland since the summer months, and your father hired an extra hobbit all because of it...! Dinny, do stop making the lad miserable! This is a happy occasion!’

As it was! Tea that day was a party for all the hobbits gathered around the table, farm family and hired hobbits together. It was not a farewell party for the youngest member of the family, either, for though he'd be off to Bag End on the morrow, for a visit long in the planning, his frequent visits when his father could spare him from the demands of farming, to Bag End or Buckland were hardly something requiring special notice. No, this was much more important than one of Pippin’s leave-takings. Pimpernel was at last betrothed to be married!

It had been taken for granted, since their early days, that Ferdibrand and Pimpernel would marry. Paladin liked to say he’d seen the sprouting of the seed on the day Ferdi had pursued young Nell, bearing a handful of mud, and stuffed it down the back of her bodice when he caught her. The good farmer’s recounting of the memory always made Ferdi grin, and Nell blush and duck her head, but then she and Ferdi would share their special look and for a moment it was as if there were only two of them in the room. Yes, it had seemed to be a standing agreement, from their early days, and now at last it had been spoken aloud and sealed with a toasting of teacups.

‘Yes,’ Paladin said, grinning, as his glance went round the table in satisfaction. ‘It’s not every day a hobbit gains a new son! And here I’ve doubled the number of mine!’ He raised his cup again. ‘To sons!’

The toast was echoed by all and drunk, and then the farmer winked and added, ‘And may the two of you have many of them!’

General laughter followed, and if Pippin was a little quiet, Eglantine put it down to melancholy over Frodo’s removal to Buckland. It was easier to spare the lad for a visit to Bag End, only fourteen or so miles across the fields, than it was to spare him for a longer sojourn in Buckland. Visits to Frodo would be a little fewer and farther between after this, probably having to coincide with his annual summer or winter visit to Merry. Pippin had spent a great deal of time in Buckland and the Marish in the past, but it was growing harder for Paladin to spare his son, especially during seedtime and harvest. Ah, well, at least the lad had Yuletide to look forward to, after this short time away, helping Frodo to pack up Bag End and to set up his new househole at Crickhollow. He’d be back in good time for the bulk of the apple harvest, and well before they began to plough the fields for winter wheat and barley.

As if feeling the weight of his mother’s concern, Pippin straightened in his chair and lifted his own teacup with an insouciant grin. ‘Welcome to the family, brother! It’s taken you long enough...’

Ferdi laughed with the rest. Three years past his majority, he was a little young to be marrying. It was common for a hobbit to marry at forty or so, once he was well established in business and able to support a wife. Ferdi, however, was well established in business. He’d worked alongside his father for years, training ponies. This summer, as a matter of fact, he’d taken over the business while his father recuperated from a broken leg, and he’d done well, training the new crop of ponies of regular clients as well as generating new business among those in the neighbourhood with difficult ponies.

Paladin had just about persuaded him to remove to Whittacres on a permanent basis, after the wedding, rather than taking Nell away to Bridgefields where his family spent the winter months. He was going on about it now, as a matter of fact. ‘...and with you training ponies, and Pip managing the fields and the sheep, why, Whittacres will be the richest farm hereabouts! And I’ll be able to sit back and put my feet up, and let the two of you run things...’

‘Ah, my poor uncle,’ Ferdi said with mock solicitousness. ‘Is your rheumatism playing up again? When Pip returns from Buckland we’ll take over all the details of harvest, and you may knit by the fireside...’

‘I might just do,’ Paladin growled, suppressing a grin, ‘you young whip-snapper! I’d like to see you and Pip take on harvest, the two of you, and managing the hired hobbits! You’ll find there’s a lot more to it than...’

‘Now, now,’ Eglantine interposed, seeing Pippin gulp at this, and supposing she knew all about it. Really, the lad was still some years short of his majority, and not ready to be burdened with such responsibility, though he’d proven himself reliable and capable under his father’s direction. ‘Don’t quite put yourself out to pasture yet, my good husband! I’m sure you’ve a few more productive years left to you!’

‘What you mean to say is that I mayn’t occupy my time with loafing and fishing just yet,’ Paladin said, and there were chuckles from the hired hobbits.

‘Not just yet,’ Eglantine said, putting her hands on her hips and affecting a stern tone. ‘You may occupy yourself with loafing and fishing just as soon as I may!’

‘Well then,’ Paladin said behind his hand, ‘Nell, Vinca, you’d better stir yourselves up to take over the homekeeping, that your mother might have some time to herself...’ and he winked again.

‘That your father might have some time to himself...’ Eglantine echoed in a conspiratorial whisper, and amid the laughter, Pervinca jumped up from her seat to fetch a fresh pot of tea, the final pot for the day. The last of the Sun’s farewell was fading in the sky, and teatime had lingered past eventides on this festive occasion.

Pimpernel broke off her silent communion with Ferdibrand and rose to clear away the plates. One more cup of tea, all around, and the washing up, and it would be time to seek their beds. A farm family must arise early, and Pippin would be off immediately after early breakfast, on his way to Hobbiton.

***

A/N: A few turns of phrase have been borrowed from "Three is Company" in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

Chapter 2. Leave-Taking

Early breakfast was... early, just as always, and just as always there was not a lot of talk at table. Pippin fortified himself with tea, and gratified his mother by eating as if there were no tomorrow, putting away numerous helpings of fluffy scrambled eggs and last night’s baking of bread and diced potatoes fried with onions in bacon fat. It was heartier than the usual early breakfast, which was usually bread-and-jam and plenty of hot tea to get the blood moving at four o’ the clock, before even the Sun began to rub the sleep from her eyes and the stars still danced in the heavens.

Eglantine had added the eggs and potatoes to the early meal because she could not bear the thought of her youngest traipsing half the length of the Shire, well, to Hobbiton, on a cold meal of bread-and-butter with a helping or two of jam. Second breakfast would be a hearty meal, sausages and eggs and bacon and potatoes and more, but by the time the family sat down to second breakfast, Pippin would be well on his way.

When the meal was finished, everyone jumped up from the table and in a twinkling the dishes were cleared away. Pippin’s sisters chirped cheery goodbyes to their brother, with big-sisterly admonitions to “take good care” and “look both ways before you cross Bywater Road” and such, and he set his lips in a smile (Eglantine thought, seeing his expression, that perhaps the little-brotherly sentiments might be wearing thin at this late date) and told them to go on with the milking before the milk soured in the cows, they were so long about it.

Ferdi winked and said, “Don't do anything I wouldn't do!” and turned to shoo Pippin's sisters before him out of the door on his way to tend the ponies. All called cheery goodbyes, and he looked after them, as they went out, and then turned and pulled his cloak from the peg on the wall and threw it around his shoulders.

‘Your muffler, too, lad,’ Eglantine said, lifting that item from the hook, and Pippin nodded and wrapped it around his neck, though not without a grimace at the motherly admonition. It was still September, after all, and mild though foggy.

Paladin slapped his son on the back and wished him “fair journey” and “give our best to the Master and my sister” and Pippin nodded, the smile still on his lips, though to Eglantine’s thinking her youngest looked a bit strained. He was probably grieving Frodo’s removal, poor lad, for he’d grown so close to Frodo, the past few years. It would be hard on the lad, to see his Baggins cousin so seldom, what with Frodo moving to Crickhollow.

The hired hobbits followed the farmer off upon their business with nods of their own, and then Eglantine was alone with her lad. ‘Have you got everything?’ she said, and reached to pull the muffler closer about her youngest’s throat. She wouldn’t want him to take cold, this foggy autumnal morn. ‘Did you pack extra...?’

‘I did,’ Pippin said quickly, before she could mention such embarrassing things as smallclothes.

Her littlest was growing up, Eglantine thought, quickly wiping at the corner of her eye. He didn’t protest, as he had when he was younger, that he was only off to Bag End, or Buckland, off for two-or-three-days and then back again, and didn’t need to take his home on his back as if he were a garden snail. No, just the simple phrase, and then he turned to take up his pack, lying ready against the kitchen wall.

‘Oh,’ Eglantine said breathlessly, ‘wait, just a bit, Pip,’ and she hurried into the pantry. She’d nearly forgotten! She took up the packets she’d prepared the previous evening, while the bread was baking, and brought them out. ‘Here,’ she said, emerging again. ‘Before you tie up your pack and take it up on your back, see if you can slip these in? They’re Frodo’s favourites, the ginger biscuits, and I put together a little second breakfast and elevenses for you, to take along the journey, if you didn’t want to stop at a farm along the way...’

Instead of taking the paper-wrapped parcels, Pippin threw his arms about his mother and hugged her tight. ‘You’re the best mum a hobbit could ever have,’ he whispered, a little huskily, and Eglantine worried briefly that he might be taking cold. No, likely just the foggy morning--this damp weather was ripe for frogs, in the throat as well as in the pond.

Come to think of it, her own throat was tight, and she cleared it as he stepped away. ‘Bless you, lad,’ she said, blinking a little. Really, he’d be back in a week or ten-day, a fortnight at the most, and she was acting as if this were the first time she’d watched him go out the door. Or the last.

Straightening and taking a deep, steadying breath, she said, ‘Now, off with you then, or you’ll not come to Bag End before teatime!’

‘Aye, Mum,’ Pippin said, swallowing hard and turning away to stow the food safely, strap up his pack, and shoulder it. He was blinking a little, himself. It was early, after all, and he’d been up late last night checking his pack, Eglantine had noticed when she passed his room on the way from the kitchen to bed. Poor lad was still half-asleep. It was a good thing she’d fed him well, to set him on his way in the pre-dawn darkness.

‘Give our best to Frodo,’ she said, and he nodded, preparing to catalogue a host of dos and don’ts, but he was in for a surprise. Instead of a list of musts, including the regular changing of his smallclothes and remembering to thank Frodo and to tell Merry this and his Auntie Esmeralda that, all Eglantine did was give him a long look and then say, ‘Well, what are you waiting for? I can hardly scrub this floor with your feet still standing upon it! Or are you going to change your mind about going, and...’

Pippin threw up his hands and yelped, ‘I’m going! I’m going!’ and with a quick backward glance, strangely wistful, he was out the door, and gone.

Chapter 3. A Problem for the Solving

Later that morning, not long after second breakfast had been cleared away and washed up, Eglantine had sat down to do some mending--Pip was still young enough to be hard on his clothes, and his knees and elbows seemed to wear right through. A knock came at the door, and Pimpernel carolled from the parlour, where she was dusting, ‘I’ve got it!’

Eglantine smiled at the joy in her middle daughter’s voice. Surely it would be a long wait from now until the Springtime, when the wedding was set, but the excitement of the previous evening was still in full force. She did hope that Paladin could persuade Ferdi to set up here, or in Whitwell, or even Tuckborough, which was not far away and full of Tooks who would pay good money for well-trained ponies. She nodded. Yes, Tuckborough would be a good choice, especially with Pearl already at the Great Smials with her husband and growing family.

And then she had to chuckle and shake her head at herself. As if it were her choice to dispose of her children as she would wish! No, they’d make their own decisions, but she dearly hoped that Nell would not be living in far-away Bridgefields...

‘Mum, someone to see the Took,’ Nell said, sticking her head in at the door of the little morning room where Eglantine did accounts, wrote letters, or sat by the open window to hear birdsong as she employed her needle. ‘Vinca’s bringing him some tea in the parlour...’

‘I believe they were working in the south fields today,’ Eglantine said. ‘There’s still a few days of bright sun before the rains come, and the more hay they cut, the better.’ They’d have plenty for their animals, and could always sell any extra at a good price to those who aren’t quite so hard-working as Paladin, should it prove a hard winter. It was said, too, that in the Days of Dearth the hobbits of the Shire had resorted to burning twists of hay, when the wood and coal ran out during that unnaturally long winter. Eglantine gave a little shudder. Paladin had cut his teeth on tales of the old days, as told by Bilbo, who’d had the longest memory of any hobbit they’d known.

‘You’re not taking cold, Mum!’ Pimpernel said, crossing the room to pull the window to, shutting off the morning breeze. She added, ‘I sent Hobson to fetch Dad.’

‘I am well, really I am,’ Eglantine said, rising and putting her mending aside. ‘You all fuss over me as if I’m an old hen...’ She gave her middle daughter’s arm a loving squeeze and headed to the parlour, where Vinca was just setting out a pot of tea, two cups, and a plate of scones fresh from second breakfast, no longer hot from the oven, but wonderfully tender and light.

‘Master Chubb,’ she said in warm greeting to the hobbit who rose to take her extended hand. ‘It is good to see you, this lovely morn.’

‘Aye,’ the grizzled hobbit said, shaking her hand and then sitting down in the chair Eglantine indicated. ‘Nice weather for the haying.’

‘Will you be breaking the ground for the winter barley next week, or have you already started?’ Eglantine said, pouring out a cup of the steaming tea and adding two lumps, per the farmer’s nod.

‘Well, now,’ Farmer Chubb said, hesitating, and then nodded again in thanks as he took the cup and lifted it to his lips for a heartening swig. ‘That’s just what I’ve come to see the Took about.’

‘Ah,’ Eglantine said, and as it was not quite time to go into talk of business, she turned the conversation to the farmer’s wife and daughters.

‘...and Lavvie’s all set now, in her new home with her husband, and sent word that they’re expecting their first!’ Farmer Chubb was saying as Paladin paused in the doorway. ‘And the wedding just a few months agone... and her older sisters also in waiting, with Lily’s second and Letty, it’s her third. The missus is beside herself with joy.’

‘Congratulations,’ Paladin said, entering the room. ‘A new crop of Tooks, due in the spring, eh? Fine news!’

Farmer Chubb rose to greet Paladin. His beaming face sobered as he added, ‘But that’s not what I’ve come for.’

‘Official business, eh?’ Paladin said, pursing his lips with a nod. ‘Well, then, let’s take ourselves off to the study and see if we can sort it all out.’

At the death of old Ferumbras, who died without an heir, the title of head of the Took family had passed to Paladin, and the change of venue reflected how seriously he took the responsibility. The parlour was for social calls, but the study was reserved for family business, whether it was keeping his accounts, ceremoniously paying the hired hobbits, discharging an unsatisfactory worker (this happened seldom, as Paladin was a shrewd judge of character in the first place), or meeting with visitors over something to do with the Tookland.

When Paladin had seen his visitor comfortably seated, he sat himself down behind the large, elaborately carved desk and clasped his hands together in a thoughtful attitude. ‘Well now,’ he said. ‘What is it that I can do for you.’

‘Well,’ Farmer Chubb said, looking down and shuffling his feet. He looked up again to say earnestly, ‘The missus and I, well, we’re not getting any younger.’

Paladin nodded encouragement.

‘Well,’ Farmer Chubb went on, after a pause. ‘Truth be told, Letty’s invited us to move in with her and her brood. Says the littl’uns need grands around to tell them stories and spoil them sweet, and...’

Eglantine, sitting quietly in the corner, smiled at the image. It was one of her great joys to “spoil sweet” Pearl’s little son and tinier daughter, whenever she had the chance.

‘...and I’m not getting any younger, you know.’

‘I know,’ Paladin said solemnly. ‘None of us is.’

‘But some of us is older than t’others,’ Farmer Chubb maintained stoutly, and Paladin affirmed as that he had the right of the matter.

‘Let me get right down to it,’ the good farmer said at last, after hemming and hawing around the subject for a few more moments. ‘I’m not any younger than I used to be, and this year’s ploughin’ and seedin’ and harvest was pretty much done by the hired hobbits, without so much help from me.’ From his tone, the thought obviously rankled.

Paladin nodded. He understood. He was out in the thick of it himself day by day, working alongside his son and hired help, a farmer born, son of a farmer and proud of it.

Farmer Chubb took a deep breath and plunged. ‘I’ve no sons,’ he said, and dropped his tone. ‘No blame to the missus, mind you,’ he said, ‘for all them daughters, well they’re a father’s delight.’ He hesitated. ‘But there’re no sons to pass the farm on to, and the daughters, well, they married hobbits with land o’ their own...’

Paladin nodded again, thinking he knew what was coming next. But he was in for a surprise.

‘Well,’ Farmer Chubb said, ‘this stranger from down around the South Farthing, he said he heard my youngest’d got married and moved away, and that I was farming with just the hired hobbits.’

Paladin sat up a little straighter. ‘What was a stranger, an outlander,’ he said, ‘doing asking about such personal business?’ He felt the stirrings of outrage. What did a hobbit from the South Farthing have to do with the Tookland?

‘Well,’ Farmer Chubb said, twisting his hat in his hands. ‘Well, he... he said he wanted to buy the farm...’

‘Buy it!’ Paladin said, exchanging a startled glance with his wife. Eglantine’s mouth was open in shock; she could scarcely believe what she was hearing. An outlander, wanting to buy Tookish land!

‘He... he offered a decent price for it, too,’ Farmer Chubb said. ‘But the missus said as I ought to consult with the Took...’

‘As you ought,’ Paladin said firmly. The farm, in actuality, did not belong to Farmer Chubb at all, but rather to his wife, a Took, oldest daughter of a Took who’d had no sons to pass the land on to. Tookish land remained in Tookish possession, passing down through the female line if necessary, to keep it in the family. Farmer Chubb’s children bore the surname “Took-Chubb”--even his sons would have, if he’d had any, that the land might remain Tookish in name as well as possession.

‘Well,’ Farmer Chubb said, spreading his hands to indicate his helplessness, ‘none of my daughters needs the farm, and as I’ve no sons to pass it on to. And he offered a fair price, a little low, maybe, but that’s what bargaining is for...’

‘You didn’t sell it to him!’ Paladin said, half-rising from his chair in consternation. Such a muckle of a mess as that would make, a legal tangle indeed! Tookish land was for the Tooks, and not for outlanders, and that’s the way things had been since Tooks had first settled the land, and the way it always would be, if Paladin had anything to say about it (which being The Took, he did).

‘No, no,’ Farmer Chubb said, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. ‘O’ course not! ‘Tis not my land to sell, after all, and the missus said to come and talk to you...’

Paladin sat down again with an oomph of relief. He was too busy with the farming to have to deal with legal entanglements, though he supposed he’d have had to leave his hired hobbits on their own, with the harvest, had Chubb foolishly entered into a contract of sale.

‘Well, then,’ Paladin said, pulling a piece of paper to himself and unscrewing the lid of the ink. He dipped his pen and scribbled as he spoke. ‘That’s good news. Who was this outlander, anyhow?’ The cheek of the fellow!

‘Some outlandish Southish name, Brandygirtle or some such,’ Farmer Chubb said.

Paladin looked to Eglantine.

‘Bracegirdle?’ she said brightly, trying to set the visiting farmer more at ease, to jog his memory.

Farmer Chubb scratched his grizzled head. ‘Might a’ been that,’ he said cautiously. ‘Not a name you’d hear hereabouts, anyhow.’

‘Well,’ Paladin said, sprinkling sand over the paper to absorb the wet ink, and then curling the paper to tap the sand back into its glass. He blew across the surface of the paper, just to make sure, and then he folded the paper carefully and took the time to melt a dab of sealing wax to fasten the page in its folds. He fished in the right-hand drawer, drawing out a heavy ring, stooping falcon cut into the stone, and pressed the signet into the hardening wax. ‘There,’ he said. ‘All official, it is. You take this to Tuckborough, to the Great Smials, where you’ll find Adelard Took.’

Farmer Chubb nodded; most Tooklanders knew Adelard, who’d been steward to old Ferumbras, and still kept the records at Paladin’s request.

‘Adelard’ll find a buyer for your farm, at a fair price to all concerned, and none of this outlander nonsense,’ Paladin said. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of Tooks, younger sons of farmers, who’d like to strike out on their own.’

‘O aye,’ Farmer Chubb said, taking the paper Paladin extended and rising from his chair, though his face grew long at the thought of younger sons, when he hadn’t even an older one. Still, it was no fault to the missus; she’d done her best by him, as he had by her. ‘I’d be happy to have just one son to call my own, but it wasn’t to be...’

Eglantine sighed in sympathy. She was glad she’d been able to give Paladin one son, at least. She smiled then, as Farmer Chubb turned toward her, and rose to take his hand in farewell. ‘Give my best to your missus,’ she said.

‘I will, that,’ Farmer Chubb said. And he did.

Chapter 4. In and Out

Two days later, Adelard himself came to the farm, driven by his son Reginard. The old hobbit’s eyes might be dim, but his mind was bright and sharp, and he had much to discuss with Paladin as head of the family.

The visitors arrived in time for the noonday meal, and so that day Paladin did not go back out into the fields until teatime. The hired hobbits understood; Thain’s business came before farm business, though their chief rued the inconvenience of it all. Still, he shouldered the responsibility with a good heart. The Tooks were an independent lot and didn’t need a great deal of looking after, but when looking after was wanted, it was definitely needed. Small strife breaks out into great wars was an old saying, and there had never been a great war in the Shire, and by all Paladin held dear, there never would be, not so long as he had anything to say about it.

Adelard took a bite of succulent roast, chewed thoroughly, and laid down his fork with a sigh. He waved a hand in Paladin’s direction. ‘Best I’ve had since...’ He scratched his head, and then shook it. ‘I don’t know when I’ve tasted such.’

‘Plenty more where that came from,’ Paladin said, passing the serving plate to Regi, who forked several more slices onto his father’s plate.

Adelard tendered thanks, and Regi passed the plate on down the table to the hired hobbits, saying, ‘And what d’you think of the antics of your son, out from under your eye and running wild in Hobbiton, I hear?’

Paladin put down his knife and fork and swallowed his mouthful of food half-chewed. ‘Antics?’ he said in dismay. ‘Mischief?’

Eglantine laid a steadying hand over her husband’s and turned to the visitor. ‘Pippin went to help Frodo with the packing up,’ she said. ‘He’s a good, hard worker, and I cannot see him doing harm to Frodo, such a good, kind cousin as he is...’

‘No harm,’ Regi said hastily, while his father cleared his throat as if to stifle a guffaw. ‘Just turned the place upside-down, they did...’ And he went on to regale the hobbits around the table with the story that was going about, of how young Folco Boffin, Pippin, Fatty Bolger, and Merry Brandybuck had come to help Frodo in his move from Bag End to Crickhollow in Buckland. It seemed that one or more of them had taken it into his head to nail the table and chairs, left behind in the sale to the new owner, to the broad ceiling beams, topsy turvy, in other words. Frodo had insisted that the room be set to rights, of course, but still. It was the talk of the town... and beyond.

Adelard’s was a “study call” and not a “parlour call” as it turned out. After they finished devouring a hearty meal, with much small talk about the doings at the Great Smials and Tuckborough, Adelard arose and cleared his throat. ‘Well, then,’ he said, bowing to Paladin. ‘A fine foundation for the bit of business to follow...’

Regi rose, too, bowed and thanked Paladin, and commented on the lightness of the bread and the juiciness of the roast. A no-nonsense fellow was Reginard.

Adelard took his son’s arm, and the three, Paladin and his two visitors made their way to the study, talking desultorily about the weather, the crops, the harvest.

Eglantine prepared a tray with cosied teapot and cups, saucers and plates, milk and sugar--sugar was dear, and reserved for company; the family took tea with honey from Paladin’s hives more often than not. Pimpernel followed her mother with tray holding a plate of cheeses, a bowl of assorted pickles (Paladin especially liked the onions, sharp and brown from their vinegar bath and crisp between the teeth) and a basket of savoury biscuits.

Pimpernel put down her load upon the large side-table, where Paladin might roll out a map of the farm of a blustery winter day, and begin to plan the seeding of the spring crops. Eglantine, pouring out, sent Pimpernel back to the kitchen to take charge of the washing up. She deftly served the guests, and then her husband, and then taking her own cup, she settled in her own cosy chair, out of the way, but well within Paladin’s line of sight, should he wish to consult with a thoughtful frown, a raised eyebrow, a tilt of the jaw.

‘Well, now, Adel, what brings you out to the farm?’ Paladin said at last, when all were satisfactorily settled. ‘Had you but sent a messenger, I’d’ve come to you, and saved you the journey.’

It was not all that far from Whitwell to Tuckborough and the Great Smials, but for a hobbit of more than ninety, in ailing health, it testified to the seriousness of the matter that Adelard had come from the comforts of his abode.

‘Is the door...?’ Adelard said, winking towards the hallway, and Regi assured his father that it was securely closed. ‘Very well. Dinny-my-lad, it seems that we have a bit of a problem.’

‘A problem,’ Paladin said, leaning forward in his chair. His brow cleared. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘the Chubbs... could you not provide them with a list of potential buyers for their farm?’

‘It’s the list of buyers that’s the problem,’ Adelard said. ‘Ah, yes, there are Tooks enough in the Tookland, I’ll warrant, but it’s t’others that I find worrying.’

‘Others?’ Paladin said into the pause that followed, while Regi shifted uneasily on his chair.

‘They’re not Tooks, y’see,’ Adelard said.

‘Not Tooks,’ Regi echoed with a decided nod.

‘Not Tooks,’ Paladin said in puzzled agreement. ‘Go on.’

‘Nor are they Tooklanders, so far as I can make out,’ Adelard went on. ‘Regi tells me they don’t dress quite the same, and they don’t speak like someone who’s lived in the Tookland all of his life. Outlanders, they are, some from as far as the South Farthing.’

‘I don’t like the sounds of that,’ Paladin said, his brows beetling.

‘And worse,’ Adelard said. ‘They’re not just after Chubbs’ farm, but others as well. Chubbses aren’t the first to have come to me, but then,’ and he nodded with a gratified look, ‘Tooks and Tooklanders know their duty.’

‘And worse,’ Regi prompted his father.

‘O aye, and worse,’ Adelard said, picking up the thread of his thought. ‘Some have offered better than the going rate for land, they have, though most have tried to talk down the price, get Tookish land at a bad bargain price.’

Paladin nodded, pursing his lips. He was reminded of something, or someone, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

‘And not just farms,’ Regi said.

‘Aye, not just farms, either,’ Adelard went on, ‘but malthouses and a mill besides, not to mention the old Twining Ivy Inn...’

‘What, not the one on the Pincup road?’ Paladin exclaimed. He’d stayed there upon a time, on his way to visit a cousin who was a tree-farmer down that way, to learn something in the way of forest management for his own copses, and the woods covering parts of the Tookland.

‘Do you know of any other Twining Ivy?’ Adelard demanded.

Paladin allowed as he didn’t, save that which twined around the lampposts in Whitwell, adding a touch of year-round green to the whitewashed buildings and stone walls in the little community, fresh and cheerful even in the grays of winter when the gardens slept.

‘But of course they know better than to sell to Outlanders,’ Adelard said. ‘We don’t need any of their sort coming into the Tookland to stay, with their odd ways and foreign speech and all.’ Of course, to a staunch Took like Adelard, the hobbits of Bywater were practically foreigners, and their speech fell harsh upon the ears compared to the lilting tones of the Tooks.

‘I’m glad of that,’ Paladin said. ‘Still, we can use the Talk to our advantage.’

‘How’s that?’ Adelard asked.

Paladin exchanged glances with Eglantine, who nodded agreement. There had been talk in the marketplace about how Lotho Sackville-Baggins had bought Sandyman’s mill, about the same time he'd bought Bag End (the sale of Bag End was Shire-wide news, considering who its former owner had been), and that he’d been buying tracts of land in the South Farthing, mostly leaf-plantations to start, but he’d been buying more, of late. He’d made one attempt to buy Tookish land, at least one that had come to Paladin’s ears...

Now the good farmer wondered if any of these outlandish buyers might be working for Lotho? He shook his head for being too fanciful... but that one would bear watching. Imagine the boost that one’s already inflated opinion of himself must have received, when Frodo at last wore down under Lobelia’s niggling and sold Bag End.

Eglantine’s eyes were narrowed, he noticed, and he gave her a questioning look. She primmed her mouth in a polite grimace. Evidently she was as bothered, or more so, as himself by this turn of events.

‘We can use the Talk,’ Paladin repeated at last, ‘to stir up indignation against those who are trying to come into the Tookland from the Outside without a by-your-leave.’ Why, in the past, hobbits wanting to become Tooklanders had been perfectly contented to hire themselves on at a farm or workshop, board or rent a living place, sort of work their way until they became just one of the neighbours... none of this pushing in without being willing to earn their welcome.

Certainly incomers were welcome to purchase property in the Tookland... after having lived there for twenty years or more. Preferably more.

‘Yes,’ Eglantine said with a tight smile, that relaxed and became more genuine as she turned over the idea in her mind. Gossip spread faster than puff-penny seeds on a windy day. ‘It’ll be a way to warn folk against those with no good intentions, who are offering perhaps too much money for some dark reason of their own.’

Everyone nodded. Too much money might be thought a good thing, but just see where Bilbo’s fabled treasure had got him.

Chapter 5. Of Endings and Beginnings

Thursday, the Twenty-second of September, dawned as fair and clear as it had long ago for Bilbo’s infamous Party. Of course, everyone at Whittacres had been up hours before the Sun kicked off her coverlet and peeped smiling over the Green Hills, joyously welcoming the new day. There was still a chill in the air as Paladin and the hired hobbits returned from the barn and their early morning chores to the welcoming smells of bacon and mushrooms briskly frying and bread baking. But that was later...

Eglantine, on arising, had brushed out her hair rather thoughtfully this morning. It was one of her best thinking times, a short space of time when all was quiet, before Paladin’s soft breathing was interrupted by a wakening snort and not long after the business of the day was underway. It hardly seemed seventeen years since they’d arisen in the dark between middle night and dawn, not for farm chores but to hitch up the waggon to travel across the fields to Bywater, on their way to Hobbiton for the long-expected and eagerly awaited grand Party. Seventeen years ago, she’d bundled her sleepy children into the waggon bed, well-muffled in blankets--it had been two hours before their usual early rising--and taken her place on the seat beside Paladin, snuggling together as the waggon bumped along under the still-bright stars.

So deep in her thoughts was she, that she didn’t hear the change in her husband’s breathing nor the creak of the bed as he rose. She jumped at the feather-soft touch on her shoulder, turning her head with a bright smile at his apology.

‘Don’t be sorry, my love. I was miles away, I fear.’

Paladin took the brush from her hand with a smile of his own and set to work, and Eglantine turned her face forward once more, closed her eyes and stretched her neck at the luxurious feeling. She smiled when the brushstrokes slowed and then paused, Paladin’s fingers gently twined in the smooth, cascading locks, and she felt his breath as his lips nuzzled her crown.

She started at his next words, murmured into her hair. ‘What is it, my love? What’s the matter?’

‘Matter?’ she said in momentary confusion, and then she let out her breath in a rueful sigh. Truly, sometimes she thought her husband knew her mind better than she did herself. She hadn’t recognised the gently creeping melancholy, but he had somehow sensed her mood, seen past her bright, welcoming smile. She had to chuckle then, at herself, and she reached behind to cup his hand, still twined in the hair at the back of her neck. ‘O my love, I don’t know how you do it.’

‘No different from realising one of the cows is off,’ he said with a chuckle of his own. ‘Easier, perhaps, for I’ve known you longer than any of the ones we have now.’

Eglantine’s heart grew lighter, and she squeezed Paladin’s hand before releasing it, and he resumed his grooming. ‘You wretch,’ she said against the steady rhythm of brushstrokes. ‘As if I were a cow!’

‘You’re nearly as pretty as one,’ Paladin teased, ‘and you certainly smell better!’

‘Hah,’ Eglantine returned. ‘I happen to know you love the smells of byre and barn, field and meadow, sunshine and mist. I should perhaps dab a hint of cow’s pies behind my ears...’

‘Mmmm,’ Paladin said, planting a kiss in that very spot. ‘You would not taste half so flavoursome, I warrant. I like you just as you are, my love, and more...’

The whistle of the teakettle interrupted them, and Eglantine jumped to her feet, hurriedly confining her hair in a net; she’d braid it later, after early breakfast was done. ‘I’m belated!’ she cried. ‘Why, who’s in the kitchen before me?’

It was Pimpernel, up early as she had been since her engagement had been settled, eager to greet the day, perhaps hoping somehow to hurry the time away to make the wedding come faster. She turned with a happy face to greet her mum. ‘Morning, Mum!’ she carolled. ‘The stars are singing in the sky and it looks to be a glorious day!’

‘A clear dawning it’ll be,’ Paladin agreed, entering to accept his middle daughter’s good-morning kiss on his cheek. ‘Fine for the haying!’

And then the hired hobbits were straggling in, faces shining and damp curls still bedewed from their early ablutions. Ferdi crossed from the doorway to take up the cosy and cover the teapot Nell had just filled. She blushed as their hands touched, and Paladin cleared his throat. Eglantine, looking from Nell to Ferdi, wondered how they would manage to contain themselves between now and the springtide, and if perhaps her husband could break with tradition and marry them off to each other after the busyness of harvest was done, or during the festivities of Yuletide.

Ferdi took up the large, heavy teapot with a grin, turning to plonk it on the table, and himself on one of the long benches with a “Come along, you slow-coaches! There’s milking to be done, and harness to clean, and ponies waiting for their breakfast and brushing, and eggs just waiting to jump into the basket...”

The hired hobbits hastened to take their places as sleepy-eyed Pervinca entered just then with a grumble. ‘How you can be so dreadfully cheerful at this hour is beyond me... I’ll be glad to have you married and gone...’

‘Gone?’ Ferdi said, hopping up from his place to put an arm around Eglantine, a quick one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek. ‘Why, I’m not going to be gone! I’m here to stay, haven’t you heard the news?’ He winked at Paladin. ‘You’re not losing a daughter, you’re gaining a son! ...or so I’ve heard, anyhow.’

‘Go on wit’ ye,’ Eglantine said, pleased, and pushing him away she surprised a look of satisfaction on Paladin’s face. Not satisfaction at Ferdi’s pronouncement-- they’d shared a look at the phrase “here to stay” indicating Ferdibrand intended to set up business in the district--but rather, she knew that Paladin was glad to see her earlier melancholy lifted by Ferdi’s nonsense.

Early breakfast was a cold meal, as usual, bread-and-butter with jam or honey, washed down with quantities of piping-hot tea. As the platters of bread were reduced to crumbs and just after the teapot went around a final time, Paladin lifted his mug. ‘A toast,’ he said.

It was common to have a toast at breakfast, when celebrating significant events (the end of the haying, for example, or a new field broken and ready for the seeding, and of course at Whittacres birthdays were first acknowledged at early breakfast and celebrated through the day with special little touches until it was time to seek their pillows).

All looked to the head of the table, raising their mugs expectantly.

‘The end of an era,’ Paladin droned sonorously.

‘The end of an era,’ the others repeated, as custom demanded, and then Ferdibrand put down his mug and demanded, ‘What era? How can I drink if I don’t know what I’m drinking to?’

The same question was on the faces of the hired hobbits--what era? Hobbits, as a rule, don’t like change and do all in their power to avoid it. Was Paladin retiring early, passing the farm on to Pippin, though the lad had not yet come of age? Had he decided he couldn’t manage farming and being Thain together, and was thus giving up the one to devote himself to the other? Was he passing on the Thainship to another? This latter, though unlikely, was not unprecedented. (Gorhendad Oldbuck had done that very thing when he’d left the Shire for the wilds of Buckland and taken the name of “Brandybuck”.)

‘To Bilbo Baggins, long may he live in health and prosperity,’ Paladin said, scandalising nearly everyone at the table. Eglantine looked at him quizzically. He smiled in return, lifted his mug, and sipped.

Only Ferdi followed suit, sipping his tea and looking round the table with a shrug as he put his mug down. ‘At least I know what I’m drinking to.’

Eglantine blinked. Certainly, Frodo would likely drink to Bilbo’s health this day, as he had every year since the old hobbit’s disappearance, and before. But Paladin?

‘And to Frodo,’ Paladin said, lifting his mug again. Everyone was happy to respond to this more sensible toast. ‘I wish him joy in his new home, though he’s not there yet, and many happy returns.’

‘To Frodo!’ everyone echoed, and sips were duly taken.

‘The end of an era,’ Paladin said again, putting down his empty mug with a sigh. ‘No more Bagginses in Bag-End. At least, not proper ones.’

And with these words, he’d put his finger on the source of Eglantine’s melancholy, upon wakening. No more pleasant visits to Bag End, not with the S.-B.’s in residence. And Frodo’s visits to the farm might well be less frequent, seeing as the distance between the two families would now be considerable, requiring a great deal of planning and preparation and arranging to be away for a number of days.

‘Bless the lad,’ she said softly, and drained her own cup. There was time enough for a sigh, and then the day must go on, what with the washing up, and stirring together a hot and hearty second breakfast to greet the workers as they returned from their early chores in the dawning.

***

A/N: Some turns of phrase borrowed from “Three is Company” in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Chapter 6. Things that Go Bump in the Night

23 September, night

Eglantine woke suddenly, out of a sound sleep. She thought at first that Paladin's restlessness had wakened her, for though they'd gone early to bed, not long after the Sun sought her own rest, he'd snored at first, and then commenced twitching, with an occasional thrash. She'd had half a mind to pick herself up and sleep in one of the guest beds, but instead snuggled into her husband's side, wrapping her arms around his broad chest, humming softly. He'd stilled at last and rolled to his side with a droning sigh. Eglantine yawned, turned so that her back bolstered Paladin's, and relaxed into sleep. Only now she was awake. Wide awake, with only the ticking of the dwarf-made clock for company. Though the clock was in the parlour, its soft whispered time-keeping sounded clearly in every corner of the sleep-drenched smial, so deep was the night's hush.

That was what had awakened her: hearing just the ticking of the clock, and no snores or even soft breathing from her husband. 'Dinny?' she whispered, groping in his direction.

Finding only a stretch of empty bedding, she sat up and stretched out her seeking arm. 'Dinny?' she said, louder, her heart suddenly pounding.

Stop being a ninny! she scolded herself under her breath. Likely Dinny had drunk a cup of tea too many at eventides, and had got up to seek the privy. The weather continued fine and dry; no need at this time of year to use the covered chamber pot, waiting under the bed for illness or inclement weather.

The clock chimed three-quarters.

She forced herself to lie back down, counting the seconds along with the clock. No other sound disturbed the peace of the smial, not a creak nor a whisper, not even the pounce of a cat or scurry and squeak of a captured mouse in the pantry. It was as if the entire world slept, except for Eglantine... and Paladin.

A soft whirr came from the parlour, a sound usually lost in the bustle of the day, but clearly audible in the night's hush. Eglantine held her breath to count the hours. ...eight, nine, ten... She waited for more, but there was no more; the clock simply resumed its steady tick-tock.

Ten of the clock! They'd been asleep more than an hour, perhaps more than two... and five or six more hours due them, before it would be time for early breakfast and milking. What was Dinny about?

She rose from the bed, pulling on her dressing-gown and drawing a shawl over her shoulders, and padded silently down the hall to the side-door, worries gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. She wasn't one for worries, usually, but something in the quality of this night's stillness... The knob in the centre of the round door was cold to her touch, and she shivered as she quietly turned it. Dinny kept the hinges well-oiled so that nighttime trips to the “necessary” wouldn't disturb anyone's sleep. The heavy door swung open as easily and lightly as if it had been made of feathers.

She stepped out into the yard. The night was clear, the stars bright above, seeming close enough to touch.

A dark figure loomed before her, and she shivered again, and not just from the coolness of the air, but feeling an unexpected stab of dread. Something shrieked, high and thin, the sound carrying through the cold, clear night. It was likely a mouse, caught by a silent-swooping owl, she told herself, not very convincingly. Though every fibre of her being screamed for quiet, she forced out a gasping word.

D—Dinny?

The figure turned, approached, and then her husband's arms were around her, his comforting bulk pressing close. 'Aggie,' he whispered. 'What're you doing up?'

'I might ask the same,' she said, taking a deep breath and forcing down the ridiculous, unfounded fear. Indeed, she felt very foolish. Dinny had gone to the privy and stopped to look at the stars on his way, that was all. They were very bright this night.

'A cup of tea, I think,' Paladin said, tightening his arms about her and then letting them fall away, but taking her hand in the end. As if he hadn't drained the pot before bed!

But Eglantine was nothing if not obliging, and she led the way to the kitchen, stirred up the fire, and put the kettle on. While it was heating she brought out bread from the pantry, cut a few slices and set out butter and jam, and when the water was hot she warmed the teapot, dumped out the hot water, measured the tea and poured the boiling water over the leaves.

The calico cat entered, humping her back and then stretching her hind legs one at a time, as Eglantine greeted her with a murmur and poured a dollop of cream into a saucer. 'There you are, lass,' she said. 'No sign of mice in the pantry—reward for a job well done.' The cat deigned to lap daintily at the cream, purring a little at Eglantine's stroke.

And all the while, Paladin sat at the table, about as lively as a rock in the garden bed, and more silent.

At last the tea was poured, the butter spread, the jam laid on invitingly thick, but Paladin made no move to eat.

When Eglantine put a concerned hand on his, he started and blinked, as if coming back from some far away place.

'Dinny?'

He met her glance and looked away, seizing on his teacup for an excuse, lifting the cup to blow gently upon the surface of the tea, sending little ripples to the edges.

'Dinny, what is it? Are you ill?' Eglantine said, pushing his plate of bread and jam a little closer, to entice her husband to take a little nibble to settle his nerves.

He took a sip of his tea at last, and then a gulp as if to hearten himself. 'I'm well,' he said, setting the cup down, but making no move at the food.

'You certainly don't look well,' Eglantine said with some asperity, taking a bite of her own bread. Perhaps Paladin would take the hint if he saw her eating.

'I'm well,' he protested in a stronger tone, and picked up his own bread and jam, setting it down again untasted.

Provoked, Eglantine repeated, 'Well you don't look well! If you were to ask me, I'd say you look as if you'd seen a ghost!'

He ought to have been nettled by her nagging; he ought to have replied, 'I don't recall asking you, if you ask me!' And then the both of them would lapse into chuckles, and all would be well, and they'd talk of inconsequential little things until they'd drained their cups and eaten a slice or two of bread and jam, and then they'd seek the pillow again.

But he turned haunted eyes to her and said nothing, and then she knew.

The Tooks, they say in the Shire, are a fey folk. O they might seem solid and hobbity as any other Shire family, but... There was the occasional Took that would break out – quickly hushed up by the family, of course, but still a matter for gossip and speculation – and do something completely mad. Run off to sea, or befriend a wizard, or even travel far beyond the Bounds of the Shire, to a far country. And sometimes they even came back.

It was whispered that the Tooks had faerie blood running in their veins. Eglantine always snorted a bit, to hear it whispered, except for the rare times her husband awoke from one of the dreams. He'd look... he'd wear an otherworldly look. It might be joy – as when he'd wakened her from a deep sleep, hugged her tight, and told her they'd have a son. Never mind that three daughters were born before the son arrived. Somehow he'd known. It might be sorrow or alarm. She'd pressed him to tell her, in the early days, but he'd shake his head, yet later, (as when his father died) she'd seen him nod, a shadow in his eyes, as if he'd been expecting something of the sort.

They didn't talk about the dreams. It was a Tookish thing, that separated Eglantine, with her Bankish good sense, from her solid-seeming husband, and she would brook no such separation. Nor would he. In her mind she explained away the dreams. They were just dreams, that's all. Why, she had dreams herself, did she not? Most everyone did.

But this time, she pressed, drawn by the look in Paladin's eyes, and the sense of dread she'd felt earlier. 'What is it, Dinny?' she whispered. 'Something's wrong.' She shivered again, drawing her shawl closer about her shoulders. 'I feel it in my bones.'

He looked at her then, surprise stirring in his eyes. 'You feel it, too?' he said.

Eglantine nodded, though she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to feel. 'Makes me shiver,' she said truthfully.

As if a spell had been broken, Paladin looked down at his plate, seeming to see the food for the first time. He took up his untasted bread and jam and bit off a hearty mouthful, chewing with vigour. He washed the food down with hot tea, finished the slice in short order with a swig of tea after each bite.

Eglantine refilled his cup when he set it down, watching his face out of the corner of her eye. She didn't want to put him off again, seeming too demanding or too interested. She topped off her own cup for good measure and took a bite of bread to fill her mouth. It was a good excuse not to talk, and the food steadied her nerves into the bargain.

'It was just a dream,' Paladin said at last, 'that's all. I must admit, it unsettled me a bit.'

Eglantine made an encouraging sound, her eyes on her cup as she stirred her tea thoroughly.

'Just a dream,' Paladin said, his tone growing stronger, as if he sought to convince himself along with his wife.

'Was it,' Eglantine said, elaborately casual. 'Do have another slice, dear. It'll only go stale, now it's cut.'

'It's been unsettling,' Paladin said, seeming to change the subject. 'The Birthday yesterday, and no sign of Bilbo all these years – he came back after a year, that first time he went away, but it seems he really is gone for good this time...'

Eglantine smiled, a little sad smile, for she knew how Paladin had grieved the loss of the old hobbit, after the passage of days, and then weeks, and then months that turned into years made it clear that it was no “little joke” and Bilbo really had left the Shire, seemingly for good. Or ill, as it were. She wished the old hobbit the best, but really, he'd been a bad influence, filling the heads of young Tooks with nonsense. Even Paladin had once, aloud, likened the waving grain to the billowing Sea, though he'd quickly sobered at the expressions of his wife and hired hobbits, and then laughed and made a joke of it.

He never spoke of the Sea again, and Eglantine was glad. Her husband was much too sensible to run off to Sea, Tookish blood or no.

Frodo was perhaps beyond redemption, having lived with Bilbo during his impressionable tween years and now going off to live in the wilds of Buckland. But Eglantine was glad that Pip had been too young at the time of Bilbo's final departure, to have been greatly affected by the old Baggins' nonsense.

Paladin had been speaking, and she'd missed a few words. '...and today the lads were to set out from Bag End, and perfect weather they had for the walking – why, we cut more hay this day than I'd thought we would, but dry and fine it's been, and the Sun so strong and warm...'

'Hot, rather,' Eglantine said, for though the night was chilly, the day had been hot enough for certain, and the morrow promised to be as fine. And then, in spite of herself, she suddenly said, 'What was the dream, then, Dinny? Somehow I feel I must know.'

He blinked, taken aback, and then said slowly, 'It's likely just fancy...'

'Very likely,' she agreed, to humour him. 'Too much spice in that batch of sausages; I told Mrs. Grubb that...' And watching him out of the corner of her eye, she fell silent again, for she thought he might be ready to speak.

As he was. 'Likely,' he said, 'but such an ominous feeling as it brought...'

'Ominous,' she murmured, remembering that inexplicable dread.

***

A/N: Some turns of phrase borrowed from “Three is Company” in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Chapter first posted 11/9/2008

Chapter 7. Going about Their Business

24 September

Eglantine slept little and poorly that night, awakening with an aching head. And yet, the family and hired hobbits must have their early breakfast, before they went out into the foggy morning – piping hot tea at the very least, to go with their bread and butter. And then while they were tending the animals, checking the harness for fieldwork, and seeing to the milking, well, someone would have to be in the kitchen, now, wouldn't they, preparing a hot and hearty second breakfast.

It mattered little that Pimpernel and Pervinca were fully capable of carrying out the task themselves. Eglantine had never been one to shirk her duties. Indeed, it had been difficult for Paladin to keep his wife abed, those first days after each birth, when he'd've gladly cozened his wife. Why, for a Banks, she was as bad as a Took in that respect!

She arose from the bed and drew her work dress over her nightgown, shivering a little. Perhaps she'd taken a chill in the night, cold and clear as it had been. Wisps of mist curled outside the windows, an eerie sight. Paladin was already gone, only a dent on the pillow where he'd been. Eglantine fluffed the pillow thoughtfully. At least he'd been to bed—but had he slept?

She wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and hurried to the kitchen, where the lamp on the table already shone brightly. She stirred up the fire and added wood from the dwindling pile, catching her breath and blinking away a sudden tear that surprised her with its advent. Now why should she be sloppy and sentimental over a few split sticks? Pippin would be back in a week, two at the most, and return to replenishing the cooking wood. In the meantime, she had better remind Ferdi to take up the task.

She filled up the teakettle. As she put the kettle on, there was a tap at the door.

Remembering her fear in the night, she fought down a shiver. Don't be a ninny! It wouldn't be Paladin, of course, coming in from the byre, for he'd hardly knock at his own door. It might be a near neighbour, wanting some sort of help. Not lambing, nor calving, she thought, hurrying to the door. Wrong time of year for that.

Throwing it open, she beheld a beaming hobbit, Tolibold Took, son of a healer in Tuckborough and fast friend with Ferdibrand. He threw his arms wide and burst into song.

'Tis a southerly wind and a cloudy sky;
Proclaim it a hunty morning!

Before the sun rises we nimbly fly,
Dull sleep and a downy bed scorning...

Mist swirled behind him in the pre-dawn darkness, and his hair was bedewed with the damp, but his smile shone more brightly than the sun might. Eglantine found an answering smile tugging at her lips.

'Tolly!' she cried. 'What are you doing on the doorstep, this time of day?'

Pulling his face into sombre lines (though his eyes still flashed mischief), the visitor allowed his shoulders to droop. 'It's Mum,' he said.

'Rosebriar sent you?' Eglantine said, befuddled. 'At this hour?'

'She's thrown me out,' Tolly said with a sigh. 'Dad came back from the South Farthing last night with Uncle, for he thought he'd go himself to make sure of the quality of the medicinal wine this year, last year's not being quite up to standard, and said as the wild ducks are fat, and thick on the marshes...'

Eglantine's mouth had opened in astonishment at thrown me out, her eyes blinking as her mouth worked soundlessly, but as Tolly proceeded in his tale of woe she closed her mouth and put her hands on her hips.

'Such a fright as you gave me,' she said, breaking into the flow of words, pulling him inside and shutting the door on the chilling mist. 'And here I thought you'd been up to mischief again, a grown hobbit as yourself...'

Tolly looked at her mournfully. 'Mischief?' he said. 'Why, Missus, I gave up mischief years ago, it was, when Pip showed me he'd ever so much better the knack of it...'

His mournful expression vanished as he looked beyond Eglantine. 'Ferdi!' he cried. 'Here's the hobbit I was looking for! Or hunting, you might better say!'

'Hunting!' Ferdi responded in kind, entering the kitchen from the hall. 'Your da gave you the day?'

'No, he's still sleeping,' Tolly said. 'It's a long way home from the South Farthing, and not much to show for it, for the Bracegirdles have sold the bulk of their crops away south and saved none for the Tooks this year...'

'Away south!' Eglantine said, her mind churning. This was news for the Thain! 'Surely your mum and dad didn't send you here at this hour just to bear those tidings! Bad news will keep, at least until after breakfast!'

'No, it's worse,' Tolly said, looking back to Eglantine. 'Mum's sent me out to bag a brace of fat ducks. And don't come back until you have them in hand!' he raised his right hand in solemn gesture. 'Her exact words, I swear!'

'Well, now,' Eglantine said, fighting down a chuckle.

'Hard knocks, old lad,' Ferdi said with a shake of his head. 'Let off from gathering herbs, to tramp the marshes with your bow.'

'You don't know how I suffer,' Tolly said with a dramatic sigh. 'And the marshes such a walk, as it were!'

'Not any further than walking to Whittacers Farm, perhaps,' Eglantine said dryly.

'Ah,' Tolly said, inspired. 'But what's a hunt without hunting companions, I ask you? And Ferdi has ponies, perhaps one even to lend...!'

'And one to ride,' Ferdi said, crossing the kitchen to clap Tolly on the back. 'For surely hunting's better with two!'

'Ah, Ferdi, brilliant as always!' Tolly said, beaming once more. 'And before breakfast, too!'

'No doubt you'll take early breakfast with us,' Eglantine said.

'Why, cousin, that's very kind indeed!' Tolly said, turning his smile upon her. 'I must admit, Mum threw me out of the house with only a bite or two, and naught but half a pot of tea in me, and though I pled most tearfully with her she packed up only another swallow or so for my journey to the marshes.' Here he brandished a well-stuffed sack.

Eglantine shook her head and tched. 'Poor lad,' she said. 'Well, I've bread-and-butter aplenty, and I'll boil a few eggs to fortify you brave hunters...'

'And the farmers?' Paladin said, entering the kitchen and wiping his feet. 'It'll be another fine day for the haying when this mist burns off,' he said.

'Not so well for the hunting, then,' Ferdi said. 'Pack me up a sack like Tolly's, will you please, Aggie-mum? And we'll see if we can bag a brace or two of ducks for elevenses, whilst the mist is still on the marshes...'

'Aggie-mum?' Tolly said, seizing on the word, and then his eyes lit up and he pounded Ferdi on the back with a celebratory fist. 'Congratulations, you sly old fox! You've caught yourself the hen at last!'

'More of a vixen,' Pimpernel said, entering from where she'd paused in the doorway to listen. 'Hullo, Tolly, and be sure you bring my beloved back well and early, for he has an engagement on the meadow at teatime, with the rest of my family.'

'To be sure, sweetest Nell!' Tolly said, with a bow and a flourish. 'I would never want to bear the brunt of the vixen's wrath!'

Pimpernel paid him no heed, but immediately began slicing and buttering bread, wrapping this food as well as cold chops and a few small pork pies from the pantry shelf and stuffing the feast into a bag, along with new apples.

The kettle was boiling, and Eglantine managed to stop the two intrepid hunters long enough to get a hot cup of tea into them, and then Ferdi was throwing on his cloak and taking up his bow and bag of provisions, and the two of them were on their way out to saddle ponies and head out to the marshes.

Eglantine sat down to early breakfast with a whumph of exhaled breath. Tolly always took her that way, with his pent-up energy, and Tolly and Ferdi together in a room! Well, it was good to sit down and fortify herself with a cup of tea. There was the usual quiet breakfast talk at table, and Eglantine looked down the length of the table to study her husband. Had he slept at all?

At last the hired hobbits were filing out into the yard, and her daughters were already well started with washing up, and Eglantine could catch Paladin for a quiet word.

'Did you sleep?' she hissed in his ear, stopping him at the door, ostensibly to throw a muffler around his neck and tie it securely.

'I'm well,' he said, not quite answering the question. 'Honestly, Aggie, the way you fuss...' He started to pull away, but she stopped him.

'O and Tolly had some news for the Thain,' she said.

'And what was that?' Paladin said, '...besides that the ducks are thick on the marshes, enticing half my hobbits to take up their bows! They'll be working extra hard to get the hay in quick, now, and then let the ducks and the geese beware...'

Eglantine laughed. 'It'll be a harvest feast to talk about, this year!' she said, her mouth watering at the thought of fat ducks sizzling over the fire, and nut-and-apple dressing, and all the other accompaniments. She recalled herself to the business at hand, feeling more cheerful at the thought of the feasting soon to come. 'No, but you know that Trudigar Took went to the South Farthing, to buy this year's shipment of wine for the Great Smials...'

Tru had been an agent for Thain Ferumbras, travelling all over the Shire to buy wine, linen, grain, and other commodities for the kitchens and storehouses of the Tooks, and Paladin had kept him on when the Thainship passed to him. It was a good business, to use the accumulated wealth of the Took family to buy in large quantities, and then sell at the Tuckborough market at reasonable prices, even with a little extra added to cover Tru's services, and cartage, and to add to the Tooks' coffers against the need of a rainy day. Hobbits came from three farthings to shop at the market, and everyone benefited from the practice.

'Yes, and Haldibold went with him, for there was some question as to last year's quality,' Paladin said with a nod.

'Well, there is no wine to be had this year, for love or money,' Eglantine said, though who would spare love for the tight-fisted Bracegirdles, she didn't know.

At Paladin's exclamation of surprise and dismay, she hastened to explain.

'Sold away to the south!' he said, pursing his lips. 'What is there to the south, I'd like to know!' The question was mostly rhetorical; he knew as much as he wanted to know, and probably knew better than most hobbits, due to his long friendship with Bilbo Baggins. Many the time that hobbit had sat at their table and regaled them with half-believable tales of the Outside.

'Men, I imagine,' Eglantine said vaguely. 'Dwarves...? No, they'd be more north, as I recall, from what Bilbo used to tell...' Perhaps a mistake, to mention Bilbo, and so early in the morning, and with her husband already weary from a sleepless night, harder for him to shake off his cares, and the business of the day unlikely to wait.

Paladin nodded sadly, and then straightened his shoulders. 'The Tooks'll have to make do with barley beer and mead, I suppose,' he said with a sigh. 'And brandy from Buckland, though what the healers will do to fortify the blood over the winter without good, red, Southfarthing...' He shook his head. 'I don't like it.'

'Well...' Eglantine said.

'No,' Paladin insisted. 'I don't like it at all. I'm of half a mind to send Tru right back there, to buy up next year's crop before someone else does.'

'Next year's crop!' Eglantine said in astonishment. She knew her husband was forward-looking, but... to buy a crop that wouldn't set blossom for months, yet... To buy a crop that might suffer blight, or drought, or some other disaster. To buy on prospect, sight unseen!

Paladin started to hmph his way out of the kitchen, but remembered in time to turn, circle Eglantine with his arms, and lay a kiss on his wife's still-open mouth. Which, when you think of it, was quite a convenience. It was also a good thing the hired hobbits were already out in barn and byre, going about their business, and the daughters of the smial had finished the washing up and were out milking and egg gathering.

Thus Paladin had time and inclination for a thorough kiss, such as he and Eglantine enjoyed only when it was just the two of them together, and when they parted to go about the business of the morning they were both in a much better mood than when they'd sat down to early breakfast.

***

A/N:  Southerly wind and a cloudy sky... seems to be the title of a number of hunting prints, and also a traditional English folksong. I found the lyrics to a couple of versions here:

http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/familiar-songs/familiar-songs%20-%200308.htm

For those familiar with Tolly, you might not know that he was somewhat wild in his younger years, what with drinking, gambling, and jesting. Well, he was. Thanks to Jodancingtree for that insight, in Runaway.

Posted 2/17/2009

Chapter 8. Of Dreams and Wakenings

The morning went as mornings usually do, a little more aggravating than usual, perhaps. After shaping the breadrolls for second breakfast and setting them to bake, Eglantine went back to the bedroom to wash and properly dress, and a button came off in her hand as she was dressing, and so she must stop and sew it on again, quick, for it wouldn't do to slouch about half-uncovered.

Then she burnt her hand, and rather badly, too, while taking the breadrolls out of the oven; the pan slipped in the grip of the folded towel she was using as a potholder and, sleepy as she was, she unthinkingly grabbed to save it with her other hand, fumbling the pan in the process, and the damage was done. Smoking-hot bread scattered over the floor, blisters rose on her hand and fingers though she had the presence of mind to plunge the burned flesh quickly into the bucket of water waiting by the fire.

'Mum!' Pimpernel yelped in her dismay. 'Your hand!'

'Yes,' Eglantine said, maintaining as even a tone as she could manage, though she had to say it through her teeth in order to manage it. 'My hand... what of it?'

Of a wonder it was Pervinca, usually half in a dream, who was first at her mother's side with help at hand. 'Honey,' she said succinctly, and the honey pot was in one hand, and a cloth in the other, for she'd been washing up and drying the baking things whilst Pimpernel swept the floor, getting ready to scrub the stones. 'Here, Mum, soak a few moments longer—Nell! Bring that chair close... Here, Mum, sit yourself.'

And without quite knowing how it came about, Eglantine found herself in the comfortable armed chair that usually stood at the head of the table, where Paladin reigned at mealtime. Pimpernel knelt before her, steadying the bucket, while Pervinca bent over her, fanning her hot face.

'Vinca, I...' she began, but her daughters both shushed her. Sensitive Nell's eyes were filled with tears, but Vinca was matter-of-fact, and it came to Eglantine that she was counting the seconds under her breath, before at last she nodded to mother and sister.

'There now,' she said. 'The cold water's done its work. Come, Mum, let's see...'

Eglantine sucked in air as she withdrew her hand from the water, but Pervinca was already draping the cloth loosely in place, sopping up the water as gently as might be, and then she delicately lifted the cloth and handed it to her sister. In the next moment she'd removed the honey pot's paper cover and was generously smearing the stuff over the burns. 'Honey,' Eglantine said, unnecessarily. 'Sweet and sticky, doesn't stick/Heals burns double quick.'

'Yes, Mum,' Pervinca said in a brisk tone, and she tied a fresh cloth loosely about Eglantine's hand. 'Now you sit here and we'll get second breakfast on, see if we don't.'

'I'm well,' Eglantine protested. 'It was just the surprise of it. I'm well enough, now...' but her daughters forestalled her attempt to rise from the chair.

'Of course you're well,' Pervinca agreed, and then her tone sharpened. 'Nell! Don't just stand about like a stone! We've quick breads to be stirring up, if there's to be anything to put butter and jam on at the breakfast table!'

While Eglantine watched, bemused, Pervinca bustled about, doing her work as well as her sister's, while Pimpernel quickly sifted flour, salt, and saleratus into a bowl, worked in fat, beat together honey and  soured milk from the pantry and mixed it all gently to a stiff dough, then dropped dollops on baking sheets and set these to bake.

Fine smells filled the air as the hired hobbits began to file in, stopping in surprise to see the Mistress sitting by the stove, just sitting, and in the Master's chair at that.

'Come along, sit yoursel's down,' Pervinca carolled, while Pimpernel hurried about in unaccustomed silence. 'Food's hot, but it won't stay that way!'

And then Paladin was there. Eglantine, watching her daughters, hadn't seen him come in, but suddenly he was bending over her, exclaiming over her bound-up hand.

'I'm well, really I am,' she said, with a little sharpness, 'it was naught but a mishap...'

'Blistering burns,' Pervinca corrected, 'but I think we got the honey on in good time. Mum, you ought to rest that hand for the remainder of the day...'

'But it's barely second breakfast!' Eglantine protested.

Paladin took his daughter's part. 'For the rest of the day,' he agreed, laying a hand on Eglantine's shoulder to keep her in the chair. 'You sit there, and Vinca will cut up your ham, and butter your bread and bring your plate to you...' He would hear no argument, but settled himself at the end of one of the benches with the hired hobbits, where all proceeded to eat heartily, to fuel themselves for the demands of the day.

Eglantine suffered Pervinca to serve her, while Pimpernel made sure the table was well served, refreshing teapots and platters and doing the work of three.

At last the hired hobbits were filing out again, thanking the lasses for the meal. Paladin told them to hitch up the waggons and gather their scythes and hayforks—some would be cutting in one field, while another crew was piling the cut-and-sun-dried hay in another—and he'd be along shortly.

Pimpernel was clearing away, and Pervinca had already begun the preparations for washing up, when Paladin leaned over his wife once more. 'Dearest,' he said, taking up her injured hand with as much care as he might hold a butterfly. 'Perhaps the healer...'

'Waste good coin on the healer? For a trifle?' Eglantine said.

'We could always give her chickens or taters instead,' Paladin said, but his fingers were undoing the loose knot as he spoke. He spread the corners of the cloth and moved her hand to get a better view of the burns, and she couldn't help the sharp breath that forced itself upon her.

'It doesn't look so bad as I feared,' Paladin said slowly, with a nod. 'A trifle, as you said... but you'll rest, the remainder of the day, and let your daughters serve you...' He looked up. 'Hear me, daughters?'

Pervinca made an affirmative noise, while Pimpernel merely nodded before looking back to the plates she was stacking.

Eglantine would have countered him, but for the mild threat in his next words. '...and if you rest, we might not need the healer after all...'

She shook her head in disgust. 'You cozen me altogether too much,' she said.

'What's a family for, I ask you?' Paladin said. He laid a gentle kiss upon an unburned knuckle and bound up her hand once more. 'Now, my love, you may sit here, or in a more comfortable chair if you wish...'

Eglantine did not wish, and her expression made it plain.

'...and watch your daughters about their business, and see how well they are about managing smial and home...' He smiled. 'After all, it won't be long before they've families of their own!'

Pimpernel sniffed at this, and Eglantine looked to her middle daughter in surprise. She didn't remember any quarrel between Nell and Ferdi this morning, before Ferdi had taken himself off to the marshes with Tolly. As a matter of fact, Ferdi had sworn with his hand over his heart that he'd be back well before teatime. So why such a worried look?

In any event, she was keeping Paladin from the haying, and that would not do. Every fine day in September was a gift, and not one to squander.

'Go on with you!' she said, and with a chuckle and a kiss for the top of her head, Paladin complied. She remained silent, lest Paladin should turn back for a last word and hear that his wife or daughters were troubled, and perhaps delay his departure to the fields even more.

When she heard the waggons starting out of the yard, she spoke at last. 'Nell?' she said. The washing up was proceeding nicely, with Pervinca washing and Pimpernel drying and putting away, still uncharacteristically sombre.

'Nell?'

'Yes'm?' Nell said, half-turning, and Eglantine could tell that the bright tone was forced.

'Lasses, stop a moment and come to me,' Eglantine said, and both laid down what they were doing to obey. Pervinca wiped her hands on her apron as she crossed the kitchen.

'What is it, Mum? Is your hand paining you? Would you like another cup of tea? Would you like to lie yourself down?'

Eglantine put up her good hand to stem the tide of questions, almost laughing in her surprise. 'What's got into you, lass? You're as chattery as a magpie this morning!'

Pervinca's mouth opened for a moment but no words came out, and then she gave a little laugh. 'Why, Mum, I suppose I am,' she said, and went on to say, 'It's relief, I dare say.'

'Relief!' Eglantine said in surprise.

'O yes, relief!' Pervinca said. She heaved a sigh. 'I was that worried, Mum, I was... and then for it to turn out so much the less...'

'So much the less?' Eglantine prompted, for Pervinca was making even less sense than Pippin at his most whimsical.

Pervinca dropped her eyes and shuffled her feet, suddenly reluctant to speak.

'So much the less?' Eglantine repeated, taking her daughter's chin in her good hand. 'So much the less... what?'

A slow flush infused Pervinca's face. 'I...' she said very low, and stopped.

'Go on, child,' Eglantine said. 'I don't bite, you know, or if I do bite, I don't draw blood.'

Even this small jest did not bring smiles to her daughters' faces.

'I...' Pervinca said, and swallowed hard, and then in a rush, as if she had to say it quickly or not say it at all, she added, 'I dreamed.'

Eglantine closed her eyes in momentary dismay, but then she forced a calm and smiling face. 'Yes, lovie?' she said lightly. 'You... dreamed?'

'It was terrible,' Pervinca whispered, her eyes cast down, and then she raised them to look into Eglantine's eyes, and Eglantine caught her breath at seeing the familiar haunted look.

And in her heart she grieved for this child, her youngest daughter and youngest but one. She'd hoped the gift had passed them all by, her sweet lasses and her stalwart lad, the dreams that Paladin knew but almost never acknowledged. But somehow she maintained a smile. 'And what did you dream, my love? What was so terrible? Tell me, and it will lose some of its power in the telling, I promise.'

Pimpernel was holding her breath, Eglantine saw, and the tears that had shone in her eyes since the mishap were now threatening to spill over, did in fact spill over, tracing down her cheeks, though she made no sound.

'And did you dream?' Eglantine asked Pimpernel.

Pimpernel shook her head slowly, but then she whispered. 'No... but I feared.'

'Feared?' Eglantine said, her heart quickening.

'In the night, I woke,' Pimpernel said. She lifted a hand to rub at Pervinca's back, and added, 'Vinca was whimpering, and I went to calm her, and she cried out, and I hugged her... she was trembling, and I felt so frightened!' Her voice was almost lost in wondering as she continued, 'I don't know why I felt so frightened, but I felt...' Her voice trailed off as she saw her mother nodding.

And then Eglantine turned to Pervinca. 'What did you dream?' she said again.

Pervinca shook her head. 'I don't remember exactly,' she said after a long hesitation. 'But it was dreadful; something dreadful was going to happen...' She stopped to take several breaths, but then surprisingly she smiled. 'But now I'm not afraid any more.'

'You're not afraid,' Eglantine said slowly, trying to understand.

'All the morning,' Pervinca said, still uncharacteristically chattering. 'All the morning I've been worrying, for it seemed to me the dream must be an omen of some sort, some dreadful thing must happen... and then it did! Or it felt as if it did...' She pulled up short, blinking in confusion. 'But it wasn't as dreadful, was it?'

'Vinca?' Eglantine said.

Pervinca fell to her knees beside her mother, grasping Eglantine's arm. 'Before you burned yourself,' she said, and caught her breath a moment, her eyes widening. At last she plunged on. 'The feeling in the dream came again, the feeling that something dreadful was happening...'

Pimpernel was nodding, and more, she'd clasped her hands together tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

'You, too?' Eglantine said.

'Dreadful,' Pimpernel whispered in agreement.

'And then the pan clattered and the breadrolls scattered on the floor and you cried out,' Pervinca rushed on, 'and I thought... I thought... but it was hardly anything at all, really, compared to the fear I felt but a moment earlier... and we got your hand into the cold water, and then covered in honey and the healing started, and the breadrolls picked up and in a basket to feed to the hens and pigeons, and breakfast on the table, and it's not at all what I feared it would be...'

'Just a trifle,' Eglantine murmured. 'Just a trifle.'

Pervinca smiled and said, almost gaily, 'Well then, we know that dreams have no power to harm us! I don't know why that one should have haunted me so, this morning. Come, Mum, let me pour you another mug of tea, and you may sip and watch us do the washing up and correct us to your heart's content...'

'Naught to correct; you lasses are doing beautifully,' Eglantine said. 'Finish your washing up, and we will get to the making of elevenses...'

'We will get to the making of elevenses,' Pimpernel corrected, a little colour returning to her cheeks. 'After all, we'll have Ferdi and Tolly to feed, and likely they'll be ravenous after their long tramp to the marshes.'

'Ride, rather,' Pervinca said as she rose to her feet and moved to pour out a mug of tea from the cosied pot. 'But no matter, they'll be ravenous any road. I've never known those two not to be... especially when in each other's company.'

'It's as if they're in a race to see who's hungriest,' Pimpernel agreed, pecking a quick kiss on her mother's cheek. 'But all the cookery will be worth the trouble, if they bring back a quantity of fat ducks.'

'Or even a goose, or two,' Pervinca said, bringing the mug to Eglantine, fixed just as she liked it. 'Mmm,' she said. 'I can almost smell them roasting, can you?'

The rest of the morning went merrily, without mishap, but elevenses came and went with no sign of Tolly, nor Ferdi.

'The hunting must be better than they expected,' Paladin said at the noontide meal.

Eglantine had insisted that his chair be returned to him, but she sat tight in her place at table, for her daughters insisted on doing all the serving while she sat in peace, eating her fill and then sipping tea as if she were at leisure and not a busy farm wife. She thought she'd lie herself down for a nap in the afternoon, for she found all this resting to be quite wearying.

The hired hobbits were animated, talking busily about the hunting. Was it so fine that Tolly and Ferdi couldn't pull themselves away? Or was it so poor that they'd stayed in the marshes, not wanting to return empty-handed?

'The sun is warm; perhaps they fell asleep while watching,' Eglantine said, for Pimpernel was beginning to worry again, she thought. There had been some special plan for tea, a picnic, and if Ferdi'd had poor luck in the hunt and was stubbornly tramping the marshes in search of birds, well...

Nell was right to worry, as it turned out. By teatime, the hunters had not yet returned.

Haying done for the day, some of the hired hobbits took up their bows to seek after the birds that would be settling to the marshes with the sun's setting.

'And when you see Ferdi, you tell him...!' Pimpernel called after them.

Laughing, one of them turned and waved. 'I know what to tell him!' he said.

'You do that, Jay!' Pimpernel returned, and went back to the business of putting the eventide meal on the table for those who were staying.

But when the hired hobbits returned later, walking by the light of lanterns, and with fat birds slung over their backs, they were surprised by the news that Ferdi and Tolly still had not made their way back to the farm. Nor had they seen any sign of the delinquents in the marshes.

'Not back?' Jay said. 'But surely...'

'Likely Tolly talked Ferdi into going to Tuckborough first,' his brother Martin said. 'And if they stopped at the Spotted Duck...'

There was some head-nodding at this, and a few low whistles, for a hobbit who was promised to marry, now, he ought not to take his true love for granted. Not until after the wedding, at least.

'I'll just take one of the ponies and ride to the Duck,' Jay said, 'by your leave, o' course, Master Paladin, and bring Ferdi back. You know how it goes. If he got to telling stories, and Tolly to tossing darts, well...'

Jay returned somewhat sooner than expected, riding a lathered pony, his expression grim. Many of the hired hobbits had taken themselves off to bed by this time, for on the farm morning comes early, but Paladin had waited up, and at the sound of quick hoofbeats he jumped up from his chair and was out in the yard to grab the reins as Jay pulled up the dancing pony.

'They weren't in Tuckborough, not at Tolly's, and not at the Duck,' the messenger panted. 'Not seen at all today, in fact, and Tolly's dad is getting up a search party... He'd thought Tolly here at Whittacres, you see, and so when I came in search...'

There was a muffled noise from the doorway of the smial, and Paladin turned to see Pimpernel, dressed in her nightdress with a shawl over her shoulders, her hand pressed to her mouth. In the next moment, she crumpled to the threshhold.

Paladin ran to his swooning daughter. 'Nell?' he said anxiously, and bent to lift her in his arms. He turned to Jay. 'Rouse all the hobbits!' he said. 'There's some trouble afoot, I fear. We'll send out searchers of our own, over the hills, and call the neighbours to join us. Tell them to go out in twos and threes. I don't want anyone going off alone...'

'What is it?' Eglantine said, cradling her injured hand from an injudicious move as she entered the kitchen. Her face twisted in momentary discomfort, and then she mastered herself and crossed quickly to Paladin. 'Nell? What's happened?'

'She swooned,' Paladin said. 'Ferdi and Tolly didn't come back to the farm, and they didn't come back to Tuckborough.'

'Where are they?' Eglantine said in alarm, and mentally kicked herself for stupidity immediately after.

'Well now,' Paladin said. 'If I knew that, I wouldn't be sending out searchers, now, would I?'

'I'm sorry, Dinny, I wasn't thinking,' Eglantine said, adding, 'Nell? Do you hear me?' as she smoothed the tousled hair back from Pimpernel's forehead. She was reassured to see Pimpernel begin to blink and stir.

'Let us lay her upon her bed,' Paladin said. 'A cool cloth for her head, and...'

'Tea for the searchers, and sandwiches they may carry with them, to begin with,' Eglantine said. 'I'll waken Pervinca...'

'No need,' Pervinca said from the doorway to the hall. Her eyes were haunted, and she went on, stumbling a little over the words, 'It really was something dreadful after all...'

Chapter 9. Encounter with Shadow

Early that morning...

'Perfect hunting weather,' Ferdi said as they rode through the curling mist. It was a good thing they rode knee to knee or he might lose Tolly in this so-perfect weather. On the other hand, with the thick mist, the ducks would be slow to rise this morning, and probably quacking loudly from time to time to keep close together. Easy to find, and as for shooting, well, the phrase sitting ducks came to mind.

The ponies seemed to want to keep close together, as a matter of fact, this morning. They were acting a bit spooky, truth be told, and Ferdi'd had to speak sternly to his mount, and bear Tolly's jibes that he wasn't so good a pony trainer as might be thought, if the ponies he trained turned out to be so jumpy as this.

'It's the fog,' Ferdi said. 'They see shapes in it.'

'I see shapes in't myself,' Tolly said, 'but you won't see me jumping out of my skin!'

'I'd like to see you jump out of your skin sometime,' Ferdi said. 'It ought to be an interesting sight. Would your skin stand there, in a Tolly shape, waiting for you to jump back in, or would it fall empty as a limp sack to the ground?'

Tolly made a sound of disgust. 'Go on with you and your nonsense!'

They rode in silence for a moment, and then Ferdi ventured once more, 'Good hunting weather.'

'O aye,' Tolly answered with a grin and a swig from his flask, that he'd taken from under his jacket. 'Perfect!' He extended the flask to Ferdi. 'A little nip to keep the chill away?'

'Don't mind if I do,' Ferdi said. He took a mouthful of the stuff, thick and sweet and heady, rolled it around and handed back the flask with an appreciative nod. 'That's good!' he said. 'Where did the likes of yourself find such a thing?'

'Mum,' Tolly said. 'She handed it to me as I went out into the cold, dark fog, told me not to catch my death of cold.'

'Your da's best medicinal brandy, I gather,' Ferdi said.

'Second best,' Tolly said with a sniff, putting the flask away again, to Ferdi's regret.

'Second best!' Ferdi said. 'How would you know?'

Tolly snorted. 'That would be telling,' he said, and then despite the glow of the liquid sunshine he'd swallowed, warming his insides, he shivered, and then pointed up the great hill they were skirting. 'What's that?'

'What's what?' Ferdi said.

'Drink dulled your wits?' Tolly said, paying no mind to the fact that Ferdi'd had no more than a swallow. 'That!'

Ferdi peered up the hill with a shiver of his own. 'Mist,' he said. 'That's all.' His pony tossed its head and rolled an uneasy eye, and he soothed its neck absently, even as the hairs rose on his own neck.

'Nay,' Tolly insisted, pulling his pony to a jittering stop. Ferdi's pony planted its feet to stop as well, not willing to stir a foot further without its companion. 'Something moving.'

'A shadow,' Ferdi guessed, squinting his eyes to look through the twisting fog. Nevertheless, he pulled his bow from the quiver on his back, and strung it, with strangely fumbling fingers.

'There's something there, upon the hillside,' Tolly hissed. 'Don't you see it?'

'Just a shadow,' Ferdi said, pulling an arrow from his quiver and dropping it. He swore at himself in a whisper, taking another arrow with rather more care and fitting it to his bow. His hands felt like ice, and the muscles in his back clenched in a sudden, violent shiver.

Tolly, however, had kneed his reluctant mount around and was forcing the poor pony up the broad hillside. 'Hoi, there!' he cried. 'Who is it? Who's there?'

'Fool of a Took,' Ferdi grumbled. 'Chasing after shadows...' He raised his voice to call after Tolly. 'Chasing shadows! When we've ducks a-waiting for us just a little way...!'

Securing bow and arrow in one hand, he pulled his pony around to follow the other, and found himself in a fight for control. The poor beast danced under him, snorting and backing away from his intended course. He leaned forward and applied plenty of leg, resorting at last to drumming the pony's ribs with his heels as the mist threatened to swallow Tolly from sight. 'It's just a hill,' he said between his teeth. 'We've been up and down these Green Hills many's the time...' He punctuated this thought with a vicious kick, completely unlike himself, but the panic was rising within him as Tolly disappeared up the hill. 'Go!'

The pony jumped forward, and Ferdi kept it moving by force of will, iron hand, seat, and legs all working together. The sweat began to pour over his face in part from the effort, in part a cold, shivery sweat that he could feel popping from his forehead. It stung, running into his eyes, but between the bow and the reins he had no hands free to wipe his face. Blinking grimly, he forged on. 'Tolly!'

The climb seemed to go on forever, step by unwilling step. Surely the Sun must be strengthening soon, to light the sky, to burn away this cursed fog.

He heard a pony shriek in fear, somewhere ahead, near the top of the hill, and the drumming of hoofs, fading fast away. 'Tolly!' A part of him wanted to run away as well, to loose the rein and give the pony its head, to flee this haunted place at top speed, but for the fact that Tolly had come this way... and something else drew them as well, all against his will, and the pony's.

And then they crested the hill and his pony stopped, feet as immovable as the rocks half-buried in the hillside, body trembling violently, not to be moved by anything Ferdi could do.

'Tolly!' he shouted again, but the fog seemed to muffle his words, so that they went no further than an arm's length ahead of him. Strange, that the fog should be so thick up here as well as in the valley. The hilltop ought to be clear, the stars shining above, an island standing in a sea of mist. Perfect place to stand, to see anything moving upon the hillsides surrounding, by the light of the stars. Perfect place to survey the countryside, save the valleys and marshes beyond, drowned in foggy dew.

Blinking away sweat and mist, he peered ahead. He thought he saw a shape on the ground, though it might have been just a large rock, but it might have been Tolly, thrown from his pony. He slipped from the saddle, took a step forward. 'Tolly?'

Shadow loomed suddenly before him. His pony pulled suddenly from his nerveless grasp, a warm, breathing presence there at his shoulder, and then not there any more. He was alone, and shaking with a deathly chill.

'Tolly?' he whispered, to be answered by an ominous hiss.

Bagginssssss...

Somehow he managed to lift his bow, though his hands shook so dreadfully, it was nearly impossible to fit the arrow in place. 'W-w-who's there?' he chattered, his teeth making an audible clicking as he forced out the words.

Again that terrible hiss. Baggins... Where is... Baggins?

Bow and arrow fell to the ground as Ferdi raised impotent hands to shield himself against the onslaught of the chill wind that blew from the towering Shadow before him, Shadowy figure of a Man, seated on the tallest, blackest horse he'd ever seen, and blacker than the darkest night.

'N-no Bagginses here,' he stuttered, cringing away.

'Where?' the Shadow insisted, and Ferdi's cloak fluttered in a fell breeze as his guts congealed in frozen dread.

He didn't want to answer, but something forced him to raise his head to meet the Creature's faceless, hooded gaze, to raise his shaking hand to point northward, to open his mouth, to speak. 'H-h-hobbiton,' he managed, and then the earth spun away beneath his feet, and he was falling into deep, cold water, drowning in fear and despair.

Chapter 10. Watchers Leave their Post

A day earlier, two travellers had pulled up their horses to survey the slow-moving Baranduin. The stony ford lay quiet before them, the great River rolled lazily under the autumn sunshine, an easy crossing this time of year, before the swelling rains began.

'I don't like it,' one said. Travel-stained and half-hid in a dusty cloak, he sat very still on his horse, as if the whole of him listened to the silence of the land.

'It is quiet,' the other said, pushing back his hood to reveal a dark head, a few silver threads gleaming amongst the darker strands. Serious grey eyes swept the land around them. 'Not even the birds sing.'

'Quiet,' the cloaked one agreed, cocking his head to add, '...and afraid. All the little creatures are in hiding.'

'Not even bird song,' the Ranger repeated. He turned his horse's head aside, toward the hidden camp. 'Let us see what news those set to guard the Ford may have...'

The only news they were to find was the state of the deserted guard post, abandoned in haste, with signs of struggle scuffed in the dust.

While one scoured the ground for marks to tell the tale, the other examined the dead coals of a fire left to burn itself out, the spilled pot of savoury stewed meat and herbs lying on its side, kicked over and left for wild things to devour. ...and yet no wild things had come, not even a hungry fox or mouse, to lick up the unexpected bounty. Nor did flies rise, disturbed from the feast left spread upon the ground.

'Driven off,' the Ranger said, grim. 'Overtaken by surprise as they were preparing the daymeal.'

'And the Watchers gave no warning?'

The Ranger shook his head, his mouth set in a hard line. 'I see no sign... nothing left for us to see... Whatever it was, it came upon them so suddenly they had no time...'

The cloaked one raised his head to sniff at the air.

'What is it?' the Ranger said.

'We will follow.'

There was nothing more to be seen in the camp. They had been able to discern the marks left by horses, a number of horses, seemingly more than those kept by the Rangers at that post, though difficult to distinguish on the churned ground any specific numbers.

They followed the trail, splashing over the stony ford, travelling eastward rather than turning to the north or south along the Greenway. They followed the track, finding signs of harried pursuit in the trampled grass, the silence marking the trail.

'Fear passed this way.'

A nod in reply, though eyes never left the task of following the trail.

And then the trail split, some of the riders turning to the north, while the main body continued eastward.

The Ranger sat on his heels, the cloaked one stood at his shoulder as they pondered. 'Not our horses,' the Ranger said, tracing the clear hoofprint left in the ooze of mud from a trickle of water. 'See the marks of the shoe...'

His companion had no need to bend close for clear sight. He threw back the hood of his cloak, revealing a pale, stern face, raven hair and eyes that flashed grey as he turned his gaze to the north. 'They've entered the Shire,' he said, 'and we must follow.'

'But my Men, Elladan!' the Ranger protested, rising to point eastward. 'They are pursued to the east...'

The son of Elrond paid no heed, simply began to walk the track as one drawn, his horse following close behind him.

Speaking a choice word or two, under his breath, the Man jumped to his feet and lightly ran to join him. 'My Men...' he continued.

Elladan was studying the ground before him, the tall grasses and small woody growth to either side, the shadowy copse that rose ahead and slightly to the east. 'So long as they stay ahead of Those who ride after them,' he said, adding after a pause, '...I think that they are pursued to leave the way open, the Shire vulnerable. The real objective is not the guard, I think, but rather, that which they have been set to guard.'

'I must get word to our Chief,' the Ranger said, but the son of Elrond forestalled him.

'I have the feeling he'll know soon enough. The rest are riding eastward, are they not?'

'Then he might be...' the Man said, tensing.

Elladan shook his head. 'No, Halmir,' he countered. 'He is not their quarry; not at this moment, at any event. They are after something else entirely, and if Mithrandir has the right of things...'

Clearly torn, the Ranger stared to the east, and then looked to the track they followed. At last he nodded. 'Very well, Elladan,' he said. 'We will follow. Though what we might do when we come upon them... From the marks I read some four have passed this way...'

The son of Elrond threw back his head to laugh. 'Some four, against a son of Elrond and a chief among the Dunedain? How can the outcome be in doubt?'

Halmir stared, a moment only, and then a grim smile touched his face. He sketched half a bow to his companion, and extended his arm, palm up, in invitation. 'Lead on, my lord.'

And so they continued, into the Shire, walking and leading their horses, scarcely remarked by the folk of the Southfarthing who toiled to take in their harvest on this bright and sunny day, a harvest, if only they knew it, destined to be carried away to the Southlands in waggons. Men were appearing in the Southfarthing in ever increasing numbers, and so what were two more, though curiously cloaked and hooded, walking across the fields? At least they seemed to be careful where they stepped, rather than indiscriminately trampling the crops!

Ever northward, as the Sun rose higher in the sky and then began her decline, they followed the trail, here fainter and there clearer, hoofmarks of horses pressed into the softer ground on the banks of a stream, heading northward, toward the high Green Hills of the Tookland that rose, dark and misty in the distance before them.

At last they must stop, to rest their stumbling horses. They had already come a long way before they'd reached the Ford, riding the Bounds of the Shire to gather reports from the Rangers posted in a loose ring about the land of the Shirefolk.

The Man cast himself down, covering his face with his cloak, and was quickly asleep. The son of Elrond stood guard over horses and companion, seeming tireless, gazing to the north, his fair face troubled. His senses warned of impending disaster. Should the Searchers find what they'd been sent after...

Some time after middle night, they were on the move again, following the trail. The Ranger blessed the unerring eyes of his companion. Even in the mist that had first gathered in wisps and then thickened to shroud the land in the darkest part of the night, Elladan did not lose his way.

The ground rose steadily before them as they approached the great Green Hills in the heart of the Tookland. The coming of the morning was evident in the lightening of the mist surrounding them, though they could not see the countryside any more clearly than they had in the night. The morning was pale and clammy, and they met no Shirefolk as they went, though occasionally they smelt the smoke of a fire, rising from a distant chimney, and imagined the inhabitants cooking and chattering cheerily as they began the tasks of the day.

As they walked the Sun rose higher, and by the time they'd reached the rolling countryside that preceded the greater hills to the north, she was peeping through the mist, smiling a greeting before setting down to the serious business of burning the fog away. Indeed, by the time they reached the first of the great hills, the day had turned fine and hot, the trail fainter now, barely to be discerned in the grass before them. Still it continued northward.

'Bywater, I think, or Hobbiton perhaps,' the Man guessed, as they paused to let their horses drink from a trickle issuing from the rocks of the steep hillside they were skirting. 'Nothing between us and Bywater but Tuckborough, but I can't think what they'd be after, in the Tookland, unless it were the Thain himself.'

'Mithrandir told us to watch over the Shire in general, and Bilbo in particular, until he left the Shire, and then we were to keep watch over young Frodo's comings and goings,' Elladan said quietly. 'And these... if they were crows flying, they'd be going on a direct line to Hobbiton.'

'But horses must by necessity go around the steeper hills,' the Ranger said, 'and thus a little slower than crows...'

'And yet, they must have reached Hobbiton by this time, and what did they find there?' Elladan's sense of urgency burned anew. 'Something waiting ahead of us is terribly amiss, I fear, and we must not delay further.'

They froze in the moment of stepping up into the saddle, by the sound of a cold voice calling, a high, thin wail that chilled the bright sunshine for a moment, freezing the cheerful birdsong around them into stunned, fearful silence.

But that was not all. Far away, borne upon the wind, came an echo... or an answer.

And then all was stillness, until Halmir's horse broke the silence with a snort, a toss of the head, rearing half up in alarm. It was a good thing the Ranger had a firm grasp on the mane, one foot secure in the stirrup, or he would have been sent flying. He managed to get his leg over the saddle, fumbling for the other stirrup, as the son of Elrond leapt lightly to his own horse's back.

'There were words in that cry,' he said grimly. 'I only hope that they do not portend...'

'On!' the Ranger answered, urging his horse into motion. 'On to Hobbiton... or to follow the trail continuing from that point... We'll follow to the ends of Middle-earth, if need be!'

'Or far enough to know, at least, if they found that which they were seeking,' Elladan put in, 'and then...' He shuddered, and his eyes dimmed briefly, before he shook himself. 'On!' he agreed, and onward they forged, scarcely needing the trail now, for they now felt sure of their course.

***

A/N: Thanks to Dreamflower and Larner for listening to me spin ideas, and for helping me keep this story within the bounds of canon. Some turns of phrase in this chapter may have come from Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien, which at the moment is missing from our library, and probably under someone's bed.

Chapter 11. Hunters, Hunted

Still some way south of Tuckborough, the Ranger and the son of Elrond skirted a very large hill indeed, with a steep face to the west, a precipice crumbling precariously, at the base scattered rocks and even boulders to warn an alert traveller to the danger of more to fall at any time. Gentler, more gradual slopes led to the heights from the other sides, though the hunters knew these existed more from a distant view of the hill before they came upon it, than from first-hand knowledge.

The trail they followed led around the hill on the western side, and here they came to a sudden halt. Halmir dismounted, tossing his reins to Elladan.

Flies arose at his approach, rising from their feasting on the blood, still relatively fresh, that had seeped from the broken bodies at the foot of the cliff. Halmir surveyed the grisly scene, then turned back to call softly. 'Hobbit ponies!' He took a closer look, removing a glove to probe with a cautious finger. 'Dead some hours, I think, but no longer than that.' He began then to examine the saddles, the intricately embroidered blankets, the fine workmanship of the leather bespeaking the owner's pride in his beasts. 'Fallen from above, I deem.'

'A curious rain,' Elladan answered. He lifted his head to scrutinize the steep hillside. 'Took a wrong step, or the lip of the cliff crumbled beneath them, or...'

Halmir's mouth twisted. 'Ponies have too much sense to walk too close to a crumbling edge.'

'No riders,' Elladan pointed out, looking once more to the hillside. There was no sign of any hobbits there. No erstwhile rider hung from a protruding branch or root, having flung himself free at his mount's fatal misstep. The edge above them looked undisturbed; no head looked over to ascertain the ponies' fate. There was also no evidence upon the ground to indicate that hobbits had walked here in recent days, much less recent hours. 'If the ponies had wandered, surely their riders would have made their way down, to reclaim the harness at the least.'

'Then the riders are still atop the hill, you think?' Halmir said, replacing the glove on his hand. 'What happened to We must make haste to Hobbiton?'

'I think this mystery has something to do with the intruders we follow,' Elladan said. 'That cry we heard earlier... it might have come from this hill, in point of fact.'

'Then we might find at least one of the intruders here,' Halmir said, walking back to reclaim his horse. He mounted in a smooth motion, and they began to move forward, swinging wide around the dead ponies. Even so, Halmir's horse tossed its head and showed the whites of its eyes as they skirted that grim place. They might return later, to bury the bodies, but surely hobbits would be searching for these ponies, and would take care of the sad business themselves... It was best not to interfere in such Shire matters. They might spark a hue-and-cry, even a muster, if their actions, to appearances, seemed to be concealing evidence of wrong doings.

The travellers were cautious as they rode around the base of the hill, looking for signs of others going before them. Rounding the northwestern foot of the hill they came to a well-used track running from west to east; it was the path to the marshes, used by the hobbits of Whitwell when the wild ducks and geese were gathering thick, in the autumn, on their way to warmer lands. After a quick look at the track, they turned to follow the recent marks of ponies coming from the direction of Whitwell. No tracks led back again.

At last they reached a gentler slope, and the first indications that others had climbed the hillside.

'Hobbit ponies left the track here,' Halmir said, surveying the marks in the soft turf. 'Our hobbits' ponies, in point of fact... see the pattern of nails in the shoes.'

But Elladan's gaze was fixed upon something other than hoofmarks on that ground, before he lifted his eyes to sweep their surroundings. 'Why did he leave the arrow there, to lie?' he said, as if to himself, and frowned. 'Did he shoot,' he mused further, 'and miss, and pursue his quarry up the hill?'

'Pursuit, I doubt, at least on the part of the hobbits,' Halmir said, his jaw tightening. He had no doubt in the matter. The hobbit's will had not been his own once he began that final climb, or so the Ranger feared, and his daring in drawing a bow on such a fearsome quarry no doubt had resulted in his death, or worse. 'Drawn to their doom, I deem more likely.'

'The hunters become in turn the prey,' Elladan agreed, equally grim. 'Then let us to the end of the chase.'

They turned the heads of their horses uphill and urged them upward. Partway up, Halmir stopped with an exclamation. 'A horse!' he said, and pointing, '...came from the east, and stood here for a time, perhaps to survey the track below.'

'Just one!' Elladan said with a nod, as if this confirmed his thoughts. 'So they are no longer travelling in company.'

'Just as we gathered from the cries we heard,' Halmir agreed. His expression darkened. 'So, Black Riders reached Hobbiton, and found what they were looking for, and...' On further thought he shook his head. 'Or not, and have now parted ways in order to search a larger amount of territory, and perhaps in several directions, as if they are still not sure where their quarry is to be found.'

'You have the right of it, my friend, for such was my own thought,' Elladan said. 'And one of them encountered a pair of mounted hobbits, and drew them hither? Perhaps to question them on the matter?'

In answer, Halmir nudged his horse into motion, leaning far forward to urge the beast to climb at a quick and steady pace. At the same time he loosened his sword. He didn't know what awaited them at the top of the hill, but he thought he'd better be ready.

Chapter 12. Watchers Keep Watch

Halmir was not ready, however, when they reached the top of the hill, to find... nothing, apparently. No black-cloaked horseman awaited them, no ominous feeling haunted him, growing fear did not pluck at his nerves as they neared the top, terror did not assail his determination.

The hilltop lay bathed in pleasant autumn sunshine; as a matter of fact, the afternoon was warm and fine. There was a sound of birds, and small insects, and wind rippling in the grass.

Elladan gave a sudden exclamation, slipping from his horse's back to run lightly across the grass. Halmir, following, saw at last what drew his companion: two small cloaks, it seemed, laid out upon the ground. He dismounted and took the reins of both horses, and waited, as dread sprung up anew from somewhere within his soul.

The son of Elrond knelt by the cloaks, gingerly drawing back a fold of fabric—the hood, Halmir thought in a corner of his mind, and he gave an absent nod as the hood gave way to a face, pale and still. He swore under his breath at the sight, the flat rocks placed over the eyes in the manner of some of the barrows found upon Deadman's Dike, meant to shut out any vestige of light from the eyes of the dying, a final torment for one too weak to resist.

Stand, he whispered to the horses, and one whickered softly while the other tossed its head, uneasy, but both stood still as ordered, and did not move from the spot where he dropped the reins. He moved forward, to fall to his knees on the other side of the bodies, for bodies they were, he deemed. He removed a glove to test the skin of the nearest, and it was cold to the touch, unpleasantly clammy.

But Elladan was lifting away the flat stones one at a time, holding them between thumb and forefinger as if they were accursed things, flinging them away with a grimace before bending his ear close to the near hobbit's mouth and nose. 'Alive,' he breathed, and then sitting back on his heels, he looked at Halmir with haunted eyes. 'They were meant to be found thus,' he whispered, and made a face as if he swallowed down sickness.

Halmir's stomach jolted as well; how well he knew the cruelty of those under Shadow. 'A jest,' he muttered, 'a mockery—prepared for burial, for though they yet live...'

Elladan's hand went to his breast. 'The hobbits would have no hope of reviving them,' he said.

'Here,' Halmir said, reaching under his own clothing, to bring forth a handful of leaves. 'These are fresher—I culled them just outside the camp by the Ford, for I thought they might be needed, considering what had driven the watchers away.'

Elladan nodded, but his attention remained on the still faces before them. 'Wood,' he said, 'and water.' He removed his cloak and smoothed it over the hobbits laid out so close together, then reached out his hands, laid them one on each forehead, and bowed his head.

Halmir jumped to his feet, rested a hand on Elladan's shoulder briefly, and felt the tension there as the son of Elrond strove to steady the dying hobbits, to lend them his strength. 'Walk with care,' he murmured. Removing his cloak, he laid it over the two still forms for added warmth against the chill of the Black Breath.

Elladan did not acknowledge him, but simply closed his eyes, the better to concentrate.

Halmir nodded, turned to the horses standing a little way away, untied a bag fastened to his saddle and returned to drop it at Elladan's side. He walked away again, took up the reins of both horses, mounted his own, and sat a moment to survey the country around them. A small copse and gleam of water drew his eye, and when he had followed the track to hill's foot he turned his horse's head that way.

He rode into the copse, well under the shelter of the trees, dismounted, and tied the horses. 'Wait here,' he said, with a pat to each of the sweating necks. He took down the waterskin tied to his saddle, and as he trotted to the little stream he gathered fallen branches until he had a good armload, enough for a fire to boil a pot of water, perhaps. He'd have to gather more, to keep a fire going, but that was a concern for a later time. He fretted over the time he was spending, time the Shirefolk could ill afford, even with Elladan sustaining them with his own strength. He scarcely noted the beauty of the country around him, green and gold and brown, peaceful beneath the golden sunshine of an autumn afternoon, showing little sign that Fear had passed this way. Little sign but for the grim finding on the hilltop, at least.

The stream sparkled in the sunshine and chuckled lazily to welcome him, moving quickly over rocks and more sluggishly in the deeper places, where shadowy bodies loomed, gills gently waving, promise of good fishing for one whose work was done. The Ranger's waterskin was half-full; he scooped it in the stream as he crossed over, to fill it full, and continued at a steady jog to the hillside, and up. The way was a little easier, more gradual, than the track they'd followed up, but of course he hadn't known and had descended by the trodden path rather than risk the horses on an unknown descent that might end in a sudden drop.

At the top of the hill he found Elladan as he'd left him, head bowed, tendons in his neck straining as he strove to stay the flickering sparks of life within the still forms. Indeed, it seemed that he was having some success at drawing the nameless hobbits back, or one of them at least, for the near hobbit drew a shallow breath and whispered, as one dreaming.

'Frodo...'

Ranger and son of Elrond stiffened at the name, and Halmir leaned forward eagerly, to hear what could be heard of the half-choked words.

'I... tried... Frodo, I did, but he... “Baggins,” he said, “Where is Baggins?” ...it was all I could do, to tell him only “Hobbiton”.'

Elladan raised his head, to exchange a glance of alarm with Halmir.

The broken whisper went on. 'Hobbiton,' the hobbit repeated, ' 'twon't be long before they find out... I don't think Buckland is far enough...' He turned his head, for but a moment restless, and was once again still.

'Buckland,' Halmir breathed. 'He's left Hobbiton, then...'

'And will soon have Black Riders on his trail, if not already,' Elladan answered, his voice grim. 'But it would be like hunting for... what is it they say in Bree? ...a needle in a haystack, to try to find Frodo Baggins somewhere between Hobbiton and Buckland.' His eyes swept to the east, over the Green Hill country surrounding them, the stately hills marching on toward the Woody End and Buckland beyond, their western sides bathed in late afternoon sunshine, their eastern sides drowned in shadow.

Halmir nodded, and scraped away the turf to make a firepit, to begin the makings of a hastily kindled fire. 'We must trust to luck,' he said. 'At least they did not find the Baggins at home.'

It was not long before the fire was burning brightly. While waiting for the flames to grow, Halmir dug the little cookpot from the bag and filled it with water. He knelt to place the pot on the fire and sat back on his heels. 'A watched pot never boils,' he said, with a mirthless smile.

'So Bilbo maintains,' Elladan said. 'I hope that we can bring his heir safely to him, or he'll have a few more choice words for us.'

'Once word gets out that Frodo has gone from the Shire, all of the Watchers will be seeking him,' Halmir said, 'my chief not the least.'

Elladan nodded at this and withdrew his hands from the hobbits' foreheads. 'A goodly thought,' he said, and rose swiftly, to stand facing the westering sun, dipping ever lower in the sky. He raised his hands, and a few moments later a small bird came to him, to light upon his finger.

Halmir shook his head in wonder, though he'd seen such a thing before. The Fair Folk talked to all sorts of living things, trees, animals, birds, and the son of Elrond was half-Elven, after all.

After but a few brief moments of quiet communion, the bird flitted away towards the distant Brandywine, and the Wilds beyond, carrying its critical message.

When Halmir looked back to the little pot, it was beginning to steam.

The sun dipped lower, her golden afternoon rays shading to the roses of evening, casting a false flush of life upon the faces of the hobbits, as if health and strength returned.

But now the water was boiling merrily. Elladan, returning from watching the small messenger on its way, took up two of the leaves that Halmir had laid down, life-giving athelas, that grew wild in the Northlands near the places where the Dúnedain had made their camps over the long years since the fall of the North kingdom. The outpost at Sarn Ford was one of these places.

Halmir looked on in hope; for while he could draw some of the power from athelas leaves, indeed, as many of his kindred could, he was nowhere near as proficient as his chief, leader of the Dúnedain. However, his companion Elladan was a son of Elrond, perhaps the most powerful healer to be found in Middle-earth, and a competent healer in his own right, though he chose oftener errantry—and dealing out death to those who followed Shadow—than pursuing the healer's arts. Surely if anyone besides the chief of the Dúnedain or the Lord Elrond could save these flickering lives, it would be one of Elrond's sons.

Elladan breathed upon the leaves, and then he crushed them, and cast them into the pot that Halmir held between hands protected by folds of his cloak. A living freshness rose from the water, and Halmir knelt himself down between the hobbits, to bring the steaming pot close to the quiet faces, grown grey once more with the falling of twilight and the fading of the sun.

Elladan watched the hobbits' faces for a moment, and then he called softly. 'Return, my friends, awake!' His voice grew in sound and urgency as he leaned closer. 'Walk no more in darkness. Let the shadow be washed away, and evil haunt you no longer.'

In growing hope and wonder, Halmir saw the hobbits' chests rise, and fall once more, a much deeper breath than the barely perceptible life signs they had showed heretofore.

Elladan sat back and lifted his voice in song, softly, perhaps that it not be carried on the wind to adversaries, for he was engaged in battle of another sort, and all his faculties were taken up in the fight. He closed his eyes to concentrate; but Halmir kept his own eyes open, his senses alert to their surroundings, ready to put the pot down safely away from the dreaming faces, that he might draw his sword at need.

Thus he saw the hobbit's eyes open—the hobbit that had spoken of Frodo—gleaming in the growing darkness, and wondering, gazing from side to side in confusion, finally to fix his eyes upon Halmir's face, lit more now by the light of the little fire than any remainder of light from the day. The hobbit frowned. 'I...' he stammered. 'I... don't know you.'

'All is well,' Halmir replied. 'Breathe deeply of the steam, and be well.'

The accusing eyes held the Ranger's as the hobbit drew a deeper breath, as if against his will, and breathing the steam from the little pot the hobbit relaxed once more, his features taking on a dreamy look. His eyes unfocused, he continued to gaze upon the Ranger's face until he blinked and his gaze sharpened again. 'I don't know you,' he repeated. 'Who are you? And what do you do here?'

'We are here to help you,' Halmir said. 'Have no worries on that account...'

The hobbit made a wry face, even as he breathed the athelas-laden air. 'I' truth,' he said, ' 'twould be difficult, I deem.' He moved his head then, this way and that, obviously seeking, though his eyelids were drooping, closing of themselves despite his best efforts to remain awake. 'Tolly?'

The other hobbit stirred slightly at hearing his name, but did not wake. Instead he turned upon his side, bringing up his arm for a pillow, and began to snore. It was difficult for Halmir to suppress a chuckle, but he did, even as relief washed over him. Elladan's skill had been enough. The stricken hobbits would live. They might be weakened, needing rest and nursing for a day or two, but their strength would soon return.

'Watch them, and I will go down to gather more wood,' Elladan said, rising to his feet. Halmir nodded, loosening his sword and peering out over the shadowy hilltops, soon to be bathed in starlight. The first stars were already appearing in the heavens above them. It would be a fine, clear night, though cold here on the heights. Not as cold as it might have been, some corner of his mind replied.

Without the merest rustle of grass, the son of Elrond was gone.

Halmir stood up, the better to survey their surroundings, and then fell to work. The hobbits, though rescued from death, must be kept warm until their folk came to claim them. He broke up the last of the sticks he'd brought and fed them to the fire, taking cheer from the crackling warmth. He took up the cloaks, then, wrapping one around each hobbit in turn, and lifted the hobbits, to position them close to the fire, on either side, to warm them, yet not close enough that they might roll into the flames. He didn't think it likely, limp as they were with sleep, dead to the world, as Shirefolk might say of one deeply asleep, but he took the precaution anyway.

The fire was dying when Elladan returned, but they soon had it burning brightly again, and there were fish as well, caught fresh in the stream below, soon set to frying and sending a good smell into the air. 'No sign,' he said to Halmir's inquiring look. 'They are gone from this district, I deem, gone north and east in their pursuit.'

'May their hunting go ill,' Halmir muttered, and he hitched his cloak a little higher on the hobbit it cocooned—not-Tolly, that was—right up to the fellow's chin, to protect him from the night's chill. 'And the horses? You found them well?'

But Elladan's attention was elsewhere. 'Look,' he said. 'The searchers come at last.' A line of torches was advancing along the track from Whitwell.

'You left a clear trail for them to follow, I trust,' Halmir said.

'That, and they'll have seen the firelight atop this hill from afar,' Elladan assented. He'd made sure the dropped arrows pointed up the hill, and examined the tracks made by the horses and ponies in turning off the trail to mount the heights. The tracks were clear enough, he deemed, and with the arrow's silent message he thought it would be enough. 'Build up the fire,' he added, 'to keep them warm until they're found.' He added, almost absently, 'And yes, the horses are well, and ready to travel so soon as we are.'

'On to Buckland, and then...?' Halmir said, but the son of Elrond had no answer.

Together they watched the torches of the searchers grow ever closer. They ate the fish when the meal was ready, with a sprinkling of herbs. Halmir licked the juices from fingers burned by an overeager grab, but the flesh was succulent, and his stomach rejoiced in the treat after so many days of travel and watching.

When at last faint exclamations rang through the night, from the foot of the hill below them, they took up their cloaks and supplies. The first searchers topped the hill at last, and calling eagerly, ran to where the fire burned brightly, seized the slumbering hobbits who lay there, and their half-welcoming, half-exasperated cries fell to bewildered mumbling. The lost-now-found hobbits did not waken, not even with a firm shaking or a shout, but slept on as if bewitched.

'Their hearts are beating,' one of the searchers, and by his actions a healer, said, 'and their breathing—yes, their breathing is strong.' He lifted his face from the open shirt of the second hobbit, for he'd checked both of the sleepers before making this pronouncement, and the relief on his face was plain to see even by the flicker of the torchlight and the little fire.

'While there's breath, there's life,' another said, in a hopeful tone.

'Come, we'll carry them down to proper beds,' the healer said. 'I can't really get a good look at 'em, here in the dark, in the wild, with naught but a fire and a few torches for light...'

Elladan touched Halmir's sleeve, where they watched from the shadows, and the two Watchers turned away, and melted into the night.

***

A/N: (sorry, got interrupted and accidentally left this off) Some turns of phrase inspired by "The Houses of Healing" in Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Chapter 13. Hunters' Return

24 September, very late; into 25 September, before the dawning

Somehow they kept themselves busy. It was necessary to keep the mind occupied with the business of making sandwiches, hastily tying bread and cheese and dried fruit in cloth bundles for the searchers who'd kept arriving as the word spread amongst the neighbouring farms, arriving and leaving again, to comb the paths and hillsides between Whittacres and the marshland where the ducks gathered this time of year. Then it was the building up the fire, stirring up batter for griddlecakes, brewing tea. It was needful, not only for the sake of the hobbits gone out on search who'd likely be coming back again wearied and hungered after their labours, but for the sake of the wan lass huddled in her shawl on the rocking chair, shivering, a cloth bound about her brow. It was necessary to keep working and talking and even, though Eglantine did not feel at all like it, lifting her voice in quavering melody to bolster all their spirits.

When the song ended, the only sound was the crackle of the kitchen fire and the ticking of the dwarf-made clock in the parlour, somehow loud in the silence. Eglantine shuddered and began another song, and Pervinca determinedly joined in as she rolled out pastry for yet another batch of hand pies.

Eglantine's burned hand was stiff and a little tender, but she was able to use it thanks to the day's rest and the healing properties of the honey plaster—why, when she'd unwrapped her hand at bedtime, the blisters that had been rising in the morning had already gone. She wouldn't want to plunge the hand into warm water, that would yet be painful for a day or two, but Pervinca could manage the washing up and Eglantine herself could dry and put away, if Pimpernel remained indisposed.

As seemed likely, at least for the moment, with Ferdi's whereabouts in doubt, added to the bump Nell had given her head when she'd crumpled to the ground in a faint. She'd tried to rise from the rocker, once or twice, only to be firmly pressed back down to rest by mother and sister.

The yard remained quiet and dark, save the torches left burning, no matter how many times Eglantine peeped from the window or eased the door open to look out. It seemed as if it ought to be dawning already, and not black as middle night outside the comfortable smial, with stars shining coldly down and wisps of mist arising. Never had she known such a long night, not even in her labours to deliver each one of her babes.

The clock in the parlour struck half-past three, and Eglantine thought to herself that it would soon be time to be about the makings of early breakfast, bread and butter and jam, hot tea, perhaps cheese or cold meat if a little more substance was called for; enough of a meal to sustain the family and hired hobbits through the early morning business of milking and feeding and whatnot. It seemed rather strange to be contemplating breakfast when one had not yet been to bed.

And then, when it seemed as if the night would never end, there were voices in the yard, many voices, farewell calls among them as of neighbours who'd accompanied Paladin and his hired hobbits homeward and were now taking themselves off. Farewell calls... as if they'd been off to the Rose and Briar in Whitwell for drinks and darts, and not off in the middle night on a search for missing hobbits.

Nell was up again from her chair, swaying with dizziness, but Eglantine did not chide her this time. Indeed, she was at once at her ailing daughter's side, whilst Pervinca sprang to the door and threw it open.

Paladin was but a few steps away, and he quickly entered, hugging first Pervinca (as she was closest) and then crossing to Eglantine for a quick embrace and peck on the cheek, before taking pale Nell in his arms. 'We found them, lass, we found them,' he chanted, easing her back into the chair. 'Now you sit yourself down and let us bring them in and settle them, and you'll see Ferdi soon enough with your own eyes, and see that...' Here he hesitated, for he was a truthful hobbit, and as yet he wasn't quite sure what the truth was, in this instance.

'He's well?' Eglantine said at his elbow, tucking her arm under his and laying her head against his shoulder for a brief moment to draw strength. 'They're well? Unharmed? What happened?'

Pervinca had questions of her own, though she only said under her breath, 'Bringing them? Can they not walk, then? What did they do, drink themselves into a stupor to keep the damp away?'

'Ferdi wouldn't!' Nell said stoutly from the chair, though she raised a fretful hand to her aching head. 'They wouldn't,' she said, a little less certainly, and looked up to her father's face. 'Would they?' she asked, almost as a child might.

'We found them,' Paladin said. 'They were sleeping, and we had a great deal of trouble trying to rouse them...'

Pervinca nodded in sour satisfaction, dreadfully disappointed in Ferdibrand, whom she'd thought (up to this point) much too sensible to be led astray by Tolly. Perhaps he wasn't good enough for her sister after all, and the smial would be awash in tears for days.

'Tolly did have a flask on him, and Mardi said from the smell it was some of the medicinal brandy they keep for emergencies, the best brandy in point of fact, and Tolly will have some explaining to do when he awakens...' Paladin continued, only to add, 'but Mardi says their reactions are not at all those of hobbits who've drunk more than is good for them... I sent a few hobbits out to find old Haldi in the marshes, where he's gone searching with young Hilly and others of Tuckborough, to say they're found, and to bid him here, to see if he can make any more sense of it than Mardi.'

'They're bringing both of them here?' Eglantine was quickly on to more practical matters. If Ferdi had over-imbibed, she deemed it was probably mostly Tolly's fault. Ferdi was not a drinker, and might easily misjudge the potency of a draught, especially if it was good brandy, heady but deceptively sweet.

Pervinca snorted softly, but she was glad for Nell's sake that Tolly's healer brother didn't think they'd drunk themselves into a sodden state and caused all the neighbourhood to be awake through the night, worrying, and searching, and worrying... The tale wasn't finished, however.

'Both, yes,' Paladin said. 'Whittacres is closer to the marshes than Tuckborough, not quite so far to carry them, and we needed to bring them together to one resting place or another.  Mardi wanted to keep an eye on both of them until they waken, or until his father comes, and that'll be made easiest by keeping them together.'

'So what happened?' Eglantine wanted to know, and Pervinca crowded a little closer to hear, while Nell kept her eyes fixed on her father with a wondering look.

Paladin shrugged. 'We don't know, yet,' he admitted. 'They were lying asleep, wrapped in their cloaks, at the top of a hill, a bright fire going, with no sign of their ponies...! And we couldn't get a coherent word out of either of them, just a few mutters that quickly turned back to snores once more, no matter what healer's tricks Mardi tried, to rouse them.' He took a steadying breath and forced a smile for Nell's sake. 'Not to worry, lass,' he added. 'Mardi thinks they'll waken sooner than later, and then we'll know what happened.'

'Perhaps their ponies threw them off, and they hit their heads and could not make their way home...?' Nell said.

'Both at the same time, and at the top of a hill? I thought they went to the marshes!' Pervinca said.

Paladin shot her a quelling glance; now was not the time to exercise her fine intellect. 'Perhaps they were at the top of the hill, the better to see over the marshes,' he said dismissively. 'Perhaps they were planning just where to start their hunt...' He shrugged, but if he had more to say he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Before anyone could move to answer, the door was thrown open by Mardibold, a healer of Tuckborough and Tolly's eldest brother. 'Here we are,' he called. 'Where shall we...?'

'I have a bed ready,' Eglantine said briskly. 'This way...!' and she turned toward the door leading from the kitchen to the hall. 'Pip's room, I think,' she said to her husband, who nodded. 'We can put them in Pip's room, his bed is made up ready for his return, and the guest bed we keep there for Merry or Frodo--those linens were just put on fresh today--I mean, yesterday, as a matter of fact, as I thought perhaps Merry might accompany Pippin back home that the poor lad might not feel himself completely abandoned by his cousins... With the two of them in Pip's room, Mardi can watch over them both, whereas if we put Ferdi in his own room and Tolly in another...'

A group of hobbits bearing an improvised litter entered behind Mardi, and Nell scrambled to her feet once more, stumbling forward with a cry. 'Ferdi...?'

Her father was quick to take her arm, lending her support.

'Tolly,' one of the bearers said. 'Ferdi's behind us.'

'This way,' Eglantine repeated, and the burdened hobbits followed her.

Pervinca saw that Tolly was warmly bundled in blankets, all but his face hidden. She was weary, of course, but to her eyes he didn't look like he'd drunk too much--his face was pale rather than flushed, and his closed eyes were deeply shadowed, though his expression was peaceful.

'He looks... dead,' she said, without quite meaning to, and Nell gave a gasp and grasped harder at Paladin's arm, echoing the last word. Dead?!

'Not at all,' Mardi said firmly, though a muscle jumped in his cheek as if he clenched his teeth immediately after. He took a deep breath and added, 'Just deeply asleep, that's all he is.'

'This way!' Eglantine called from the hallway, and the litter-bearers followed her, as another group entered the kitchen with Ferdibrand.

He, too, was well-wrapped up, as pale as Tolly, and as deeply asleep, it seemed. He did not move or show any sign of hearing when Nell sobbed his name. The litter-bearers stopped a moment, that Nell might see her beloved, but then Mardi urged them to follow after the others.

Nell stood, bereft, in the middle of the kitchen, sagging a little in her father's grasp.

Pervinca took firm hold of herself and moved to Pimpernel's other side. 'Deeply asleep, they are,' she said, 'and no wonder, at this time of the night! We should all be so lucky!'

Her father shot her a sharp glance and she gave a wry smile, before turning her attentions back to Pimpernel. 'Come, now, Nell,' she said. 'They'll have them settled in bed in a moment, and then we can pull up a chair for you to sit by your Ferdi, and you can hold his hand and scold him to your heart's desire for missing our picnic...'

'Scold him! Never!' Pimpernel said, breathless, pulling away a little to follow after the litter bearing her beloved.

Pervinca gave a little sigh of exasperation at this, but she was sure it was partly true, at least. Nell wouldn't scold Ferdi now of course, not this moment and probably not in the next few hours, but once he was himself again, she was sure he'd regret his thoughtlessness, whether Nell's reproaches were spoken, or silent. Pimpernel was a sweet tempered lass, but Ferdi had sorely tried her this day, and Pervinca was certain that her sister would not let Ferdi off as if nothing had happened.

If anything, she'd be quiet and sad, and Ferdi would be all apologies and efforts to bring back her smiles, and he'd have to work hard at spoiling Nell for the next day or two. It served him right, for giving them such a scare.

Pervinca hoped Nell wouldn't forgive Ferdi right away. She thought a week just might be sufficient. Perhaps just a bit more than that, even. It would do Ferdi good, in her opinion.

Last edit 8/3/2012

Chapter 14. Elusive Thought

Paladin sank heavily onto the bed, next to Ferdibrand. A dark foreboding was on him, though if asked, he'd not have been able to tell why. Within moments two chairs had been brought in and placed in the space between the beds, but for some reason the farmer felt too drained to get up and resettle himself.

'G'night, then,' said the hired hobbit who'd brought the chairs. He was the last to enter the room, after the litter bearers had left.

'Good night, Nod, and rest well,' Paladin said. 'It was a good night's effort on everyone's part; tell the lads of my thankfulness for their help.'

'I'll do that,' Nod said, and turned to leave, nearly colliding with Pervinca, who came bearing a tray with a pitcher of cool water, drawn fresh from the well, and glasses for drinking.

'Off to bed wit' ye, now,' Paladin said, nodding his thanks as she poured out and handed him a brimming glass. He drank greedily, draining the glass with a sigh of satisfaction. 'Good, lass, my thanks. Leave the tray; we'll help ourselves.' When she hesitated, he said more firmly, 'Morning'll come early...' but Pervinca interrupted him.

'Never mind, Da, it's here already.' At his frown, she threw up her hands. 'I go, I go!' But as she took herself off, she could be heard to grumble, 'As if anyone could sleep after a night like this one...!'

Mardi, leaning over the other bed, pulled up the covers to Tolly's chin. 'There,' he said low, as if to himself. 'All warm, and settled for sleeping.'

'Sleeping it off?' Paladin said, and the healer turned to meet his steady gaze.

'Sleeping what off, I ask you?' Mardi said. 'I told you, this is not a matter of too much drink.'

Tolly stirred and echoed, 'Drink,' and both hobbits stared at him, waiting to see what else he might say.

At last, Mardi bent closer. 'Do you thirst, brother?' he said. 'Can I bring you some water? Brandy?'

'Brandy,' Paladin muttered, but then Pimpernel entered, her face eager, her energy apparently restored. Paladin gestured to the empty chair beside Ferdibrand's bed. 'Come, lovie, sit yourself down in the chair, here.'

She perched on the edge of the near chair, and Paladin moved a little down the bed so that Pimpernel could take up Ferdi's hand. 'Ferdi?' she whispered. 'Ferdi, do you hear me?'

'Dry,' Tolly murmured as if in response to Nell's voice. 'Dry as dust.' Yet when Mardi lifted his head, holding a glass to his lips, he turned his face aside with the faintest of frowns.

'Dust... blown away on the wind,' Ferdi moaned in apparent agreement, and startled, the three watchers looked from Tolly to him and back again.

'It's as if they share the same dream,' Pimpernel said.

'Or nightmare,' Mardi answered, but he only spoke what all were thinking.

'Ferdi?' Pimpernel said again, a little louder, perhaps hoping to jar her beloved loose from his dreaming.

Jar him, she did, evidently, for he bolted suddenly upright in the bed, looking wildly about. 'Frodo!' he cried. 'Frodo! They're after you!' His chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, and he added, breathless, 'Run! Hide!'

'Cannot hide,' Tolly whispered. 'They find you. They always do.' The words sent a chill through the three watchers.

'Run, Frodo!' Ferdi sobbed, but Paladin had his arm around the stricken hobbit's shoulders and both he and Nell were speaking in their most soothing tones. At last Paladin was able to ease Ferdi back down on the pillow, but the hobbit remained restless, his head turning from one side to the other as if he still sought after something, or someone.

Paladin rose abruptly, stopping only to rest his hand momentarily on Pimpernel's shoulder. 'Stay with him, Nell, don't leave him,' he said. 'I have a quick matter of business, but I'll be back as soon as I may.'

'Business?' Mardi said. 'At this time of the night? Can it not wait until the dawning?'

'I'll be back,' Paladin said. 'I have the feeling this business cannot wait.'

He left the room without a backward glance at the two sleeping hobbits, and the two staring watchers.

He strode to the kitchen, where he found Nod still awake, for the hired hobbit had come to bid Eglantine good night and ask if there were any other service he could do for the family before retiring. He'd found Eglantine banking the fire out of habit, as she always did at the end of the day, an awkward business with one hand bound up in a cloth, and he'd taken over the job, though if he'd given the matter any thought he'd have built the fire up, instead, ready for breakfast making.

'Ah, Nod,' Paladin said with a jerk of his chin. 'I'm glad to find you still up and about.'

'Master?' the hired hobbit said, standing to his feet and brushing ash from his hands.

'I want you to take Silverstar, he's the fastest pony we've got, and ride into Whitwell. Rouse a quickpost rider, and give him a message for Frodo Baggins at Crickhollow in Buckland.'

'Buckland, sir?' Nod gasped, though he knew very well that his master's cousin Frodo had recently removed to that wild place on the wrong side of the Brandywine. 'Frodo Baggins won't even be to Buckland yet! Didn't young master Pip say they were to go afoot, and make it a walking holiday?'

Paladin was stopped short by this reply. He stood a moment as if in deep thought, then drew a shaking hand across his brow, no longer sure of his course. The urgent idea that had sprung forth at Ferdi's frantic plea was suddenly hidden, as a heavy cloud might hide the moon, casting all things into shadow.

'Dinny?' Eglantine said, crossing to him, to lay one hand upon his shoulder while her other arm encircled him. 'What is it, Dinny?'

'I--' he said, meeting her anxious eyes with a puzzled look. 'I don't know. There was something...'

Eglantine exchanged glances with the hired hobbit, and then looked back to her husband. 'Come, Dinny,' she said in her most persuasive tone. 'You're done in, what with no sleep the night before this one, and up early with the chores, and haying all the day, and much of it under a hot Sun, and then tramping halfway across the Shire and back, until this past night was nearly spent...'

'I'm well,' Paladin said, and made as if to shake her off, but she winced, and he was instantly solicitous. 'Aggie, I'm sorry, did I...? Your hand...'

'A trifling matter,' Eglantine said, adding briskly, 'but it's you that I'm more concerned with.' The clock in the parlour chimed five times, and her eyes opened wide in dismay. 'The night is spent! Why, it's an hour past time for the milking!'

'Don't you stir yourself, Mistress, nor the lasses, either,' Nod said in a decisive tone. ' 'Tis true, the lads only lately sought their beds,' (and he had the right of it; the searchers had arrived some time between half past three and four o' the clock, and gone to their beds to lie themselves down fully dressed, with the morning so soon to come upon them), ' 'twon't be sleep for anyone, neighbours or hired hobbits, not this night at least, for this night's gone and there's the day's work to be done.'

Paladin sucked in his breath, ready to tell Nod to take the day, and pass the word to the other hirelings, but then he let his breath out again with a whoosh. 'Another fine day?' was all he said. Every fine day after mid-September was a gift, and not one to be spurned, when any hay was still in the fields. If they were given a fine day, the farmers reasoned, there was a reason for it. Every bit of every crop they could gather might well be needed if the coming winter proved long or harsh.

The hired hobbit nodded. 'I'm afraid so,' he said. 'I looked out just now, to see that the yard was quiet and all was well, and for a sniff of the air, and it smells like a fine day to come.' He shrugged. 'Is here, already, I ought to have said.'

Turning to Eglantine, he continued his earlier thought. 'We'll take care of the milking, and the egg-gathering,' he said. 'Miss Nell, now, she ought not to leave her Ferdi's side, what with him being under the weather as he is,' for he'd seen Ferdi's and Tolly's faces, and he'd watched Mardi trying to rouse the hobbits, and his private opinion was that they'd taken some sort of near-deathly hurt or ill, for they did not look at all to him like drunken hobbits ought to look. 'And Miss Vinca, she only just stumbled off to bed.'

Paladin nodded, 'And you, my dear,' he said. 'You're not completely well, and your hand, it won't be healing if you won't take some rest.'

'I'm not as delicate as all that,' Eglantine began, but her husband overrode her.

'Perhaps Mardi ought to take a look at your hand...'

'It's a trifle!' Eglantine protested. 'It's healing already!'

'I'd like to see you use it, then,' Paladin said, and then held up his hand. 'No, as a matter of fact, I wouldn't, I was only saying... Go to bed, my dearest, take an hour or three of rest while we manage the milking and other chores. There's bread and cheese and a barrel of new apples in the pantry, and I know how to put the kettle on, and even how to brew a proper pot of tea, as you might recall--the hired hobbits won't starve, nor I myself, and when you and Vinca have rested you can put a proper meal on the table.'

To Nod he said, 'I'll just see the mistress to bed...'

'Aye, and I'll be rousing the lads,' Nod said for his own part. 'The cows'll be wondering what's holding up the milking, and the eggs won't be gathering themselves, I warrant.'

'I expect you have the right of it,' Paladin said, and easing his arm around Eglantine's waist, he led her, still reluctant, from the kitchen.

They paused at the door of Pip's room, glancing in.

Mardi looked up, but Nell had eyes only for her Ferdi's face, which she was watching with a mixture of hope and dread.

'No change,' the healer whispered. 'I'll let you know...'

'You do that,' Paladin said. There was a thought nagging at the back of his mind, something he'd felt compelled to do, something important, critically important he thought, but for the life of him he could not remember it now. He resisted the urge to shake his head to clear it, for Eglantine would see and press him to take some rest himself, and there was no time for such nonsense. In a few moments his hobbits would be hard at their chores, despite their efforts this night, and the lack of rest, and how could he in good conscience do any less?

Chapter 15. With the Brightening Morn

Eglantine lay staring into the pre-dawn darkness for some moments after Paladin tenderly tucked her up, smoothed the coverlet over her, brushed a kiss over her bound-up hand, and finished with a lingering hand on her forehead, a whispered blessing, which she managed not to spoil with a demand to be wakened when the milking was done. It took an effort to hold her tongue, but Paladin's step seemed lighter after he rose from the bed again, and she was contented with that, even while privately resolving that she'd wait until she heard the door of the smial close, and then rise to stir up some breakfast.

...only to start up in wonder at seeing the bright sunlight streaming in at the window.

It was morning light, at least, she determined as she rose from the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief at being spared the trial of sleeping into the afternoon. How would she ever catch up, if that had been the case? Ah, well, better not to borrow trouble.

Her hand was better already, she thought, halfway to healing, though she wouldn't be putting it in warm water for a day or two yet. The lasses would have to manage the washing up, and perhaps the laundering.

The smial was silent, and Eglantine felt the urge to tiptoe, for some reason, as she made her way from the bedroom. A peek into her daughters' room showed Vinca, curled under her covers, but Nell was not there. Ah, Nell sat by Ferdi in the next room, Pippin's, and Mardi dozed in the chair next to the bed where Tolly lay. Ferdi and Tolly lay silent and unmoving, except for the steady rise and fall of their coverlets. They looked better to Eglantine's searching gaze, more natural somehow than they had a few hours ago.

Nell looked up as Eglantine hovered in the doorway. Eglantine mimed lifting a teacup for a drink, and Nell nodded. Eglantine withdrew, and still on tiptoe, made her way to the deserted kitchen.

The table was scrubbed and empty except for the large basket of eggs perched in the centre, the benches and chairs shoved neatly under, and the floor looked freshly swept. Dishes, mugs, knives and spoons lay stacked ready for washing, so the hired hobbits had eaten, she was glad to surmise. It was but a moment's work to add a few sticks to the fire and move the teakettle, full and waiting to be pressed into service, over the freshening flames.

While waiting for the water to heat (a watched pot, as everyone knows...), she busied herself slicing bread and cheese – yes, her burned hand was managing quite nicely – and put together a tray with the bread and cheese, butter and a pot of jam. She was able to carry this bounty without much trouble, but Pimpernel still jumped up from her chair to fuss, protesting in an undertone. 'Oh, Mum! I'm that sorry, I didn't think...!'

'It's no trouble,' Eglantine began, but Pimpernel quickly divested the tray of the plates and food anyhow, and laid these on the chest of drawers. Taking the empty tray from Eglantine, she then insisted that her mother sit down in the empty chair by the bed. 'If you'd just watch over Ferdi, Mum, I'll have the tea ready in two shakes...'

'Three shakes would be fine,' Eglantine said, resigned to her rest, but smiling for her daughter's sake. Nell nodded and, with a last look to Ferdi's face, was gone.

Their soft tones, of a wonder, did not rouse any of the sleepers, not even the healer, and in the quiet Eglantine was able to hear the soft sounds from the kitchen. Tink, that was Nell taking the top from the teapot, and then there was the sound of water pouring – Nell warming the pot. Eglantine followed the sounds of tea-making and tray-loading, and when Nell entered the room with her loaded tray, Eglantine greeted her with a bright smile. 'Quickly done, lass!'

Mardi jerked awake at this soft greeting. 'Er.. umph...? Ah, yes, Nell...' His eyes brightened at the sight of the cosied pot, and he rose at once to take the tray. 'Lovely! Just what the healer ordered! ...or would have, if he hadn't fallen asleep at his post...'

'Ah, Mardi,' Eglantine soothed. 'Even a healer must sleep. Sometime, or another,' she added, holding up her hand in answer to his wry expression.

He had laid down the tray and was pouring out cups of tea, but at the sight of her bound-up hand he put down the pot, all healer once more. 'Now, Missus,' he said. 'What mischief have you done yourself?'

'Naught but that a bit of rest won't remedy,' Eglantine said to forestall him, but she might as well have saved her breath. He undid the cloth and took her hand in his, as gently as he might have held a butterfly, delicately examining all sides.

'Nasty burn, it was,' came his opinion at last, 'but healing nicely.'

Eglantine thanked him, for he was only doing what came as naturally to him as breathing. Reclaiming her hand, she agreed with him that it might be best to leave uncovered to air, if she could remember not to use it without the reminder of the protecting cloth.

'A day or two more,' Mardi was saying, having turned back to finish pouring out, when Nell interrupted with an eager look.

She had moved back to stand at Ferdi's bedside. 'He's looking better, don't you think?' And with a swift glance from Ferdi to Tolly and back again, she added, 'Both are looking better...?'

'Aye,' Mardi said, handing a cup to Eglantine and motioning her to his own chair, and then bringing another to Nell. 'Their colour's been returning with the brightening of the day. It's almost as if the light brings them strength!' He shook his head at himself. 'Pardon my fancy, Misses, I don't mean to speak as if I'm dreaming still.'

But the dark shadows were gone, that Eglantine had seen under their eyes when they were brought in, and their faces did have a life and colour that had been lacking in the early morning lamplight.

Mardi rattled his spoon in his teacup, a loud and cheery sound in the quiet room. 'Tolly!' he said. 'Ferdi! Tolly? Some tea?' All three watched the sleepers, eager to see some response. The sleepers did not waken, but Tolly did turn onto his side with a sigh, and Ferdi smiled in his sleep and murmured something unintelligible.

'Much better,' Mardi muttered as if to himself, and at Eglantine's sharp, querying glance he smiled and shrugged a little. 'It seems as if the dark dreams have passed off,' he said. 'They fell into a quieter, more restful sleep some time ago, and I suppose that's when I dropped off as well.'

The dwarf-made clock in the parlour chimed just then, and Eglantine counted to ten under her breath. 'Ten o' the clock!' she exclaimed. The field-workers would have taken wrapped-up cloths filled with bread and cheese or cold meat with them for elevenses, but... 'Ah, but I've no idea what we'll manage for the nooning!' She drained her cup and set it on the saucer with a hurried rattle. 'Come, Nell,' she said, 'we'll leave Mardi to watch for a bit, just long enough to chop some meat and veg and set them to boiling... perhaps stir up some muffins to sop up the soup... I fear it'll be hasty pudding and not much else if we don't stir ourselves, and quickly!'

Pervinca, apparently roused by the same sound, met them outside the door with a breathless, 'How are they?'

'Better,' Eglantine said, at the same time as Nell's 'They're well, I mean, nearly so...'

With the three of them (well, nearly three, if you counted Eglantine as one good hand and part of another), the kitchen soon filled with savoury smells, and then Pervinca and Pimpernel washed up the breakfast dishes, and while Vinca and Eglantine finished putting away the dried dishes, Nell went back to sit with her sleeping Ferdi once more.

By the time the workers came in from the field, a simple but hot and filling meal was on the table, and Eglantine could meet Paladin with a smile and feeling of accomplishment.

'How're the lads?' he greeted her.

'Why don't you see for yourself?' she countered, as she ladled soup into bowls for Mardi and Nell, wondering if the aroma would waken the sleepers at last. 'Here, take this with you!'

Paladin lifted the laden tray with a wink and a grin. Two nights without sleep, and he didn't seem much the worse for wear, Eglantine thought with relief. Still, she'd do all she could to see that he sought the bed early this night. No use letting him wear himself to tatters.

'They are looking much better,' was his verdict upon his return, and it was with lighter spirits that the farmer and his family and hired hobbits sat down to their noontide meal. It seemed as if Ferdi and Tolly must waken at any time, perhaps even before Paladin and the others went back out to their haying, and things would return to the way they ought to be, on a fine and sunny September day.

Chapter 16. Sleepers Wake

A firm knock sounded upon the door, which was flung open immediately after, without waiting for anyone to rise and go to the door and open it, or even Paladin’s cheery, “Come in!”

A breathless Haldibold nearly fell into the kitchen, his youngest son Hilly holding his elbow as if the older hobbit needed the support. ‘Tolly!’ he said, eyes wide. ‘He’s here, they said… they found us in the marshes to say the lads had taken too much drink, and wandered from their course…’ A fluster of apologies followed, by which time Paladin had reached him and taken his other elbow, soothing as he might a fractious pony.

At last Hilly jerked at his father’s arm to still the flow of words. ‘Da!’ he said, and that was enough for Paladin’s words to interrupt the flow.

‘…not in their cups, not so far as Mardi can tell…’

‘not…’ Haldi echoed. ‘Rosebriar said she’d sent Tolly out into the dark with a splash of the second-best brandy, just to warm the lad in the chill of the misty morn – ah, but I shook my head at that, but mothers will go on with thinking their family will break with rough handling, and they must be cosseted and wrapped in cotton wool, they must, and…’

He looked to Eglantine in apology, ‘…and to hear he’d led Ferdi wrong, I’m that sorry, Missus! He’ll have an earful from me, you can be assured of that! Where is the young rascal? I hope his head is splitting!’

They’ll never live it down, Eglantine heard Pervinca whisper, and when she glanced at the lass, her youngest daughter was shaking her head. Ruefully, she thought, she has the right of it… but before she could speak, Paladin was tugging at Haldi’s arm and saying, ‘Come along—they’re still i' the bed, but…’

‘Abed!’ Haldi said in consternation. ‘Abed! I' the nooning! I should think you’d dunked them in the trough to sober them up, and set them about some good, hard work to begin to make amends for all the bother…’

‘They were not blind drunk, I tell you,’ Paladin insisted. ‘It’s somewhat else, I'm telling you, some mischief afoot…’

‘Mischief, aye,’ Haldi agreed, but he allowed himself to be led from the room.

Hilly had released his father to Paladin, for Pervinca was urging him to take an empty spot at table, and she bustled to lay a plate, bowl, and silver, and the thick, meaty soup was perfuming the room with welcome. He was just sitting down when Paladin said “some mischief afoot” and at this, he half-rose again. ‘Mischief?’ he said. ‘What mischief?’

‘Eat!’ Pervinca insisted, pushing him down. ‘Your brother’s asleep, and taken no ill, or so your other brother says, and in the meantime I can see you’re perishing of the hunger…!’ For Hilly was a tween, of about the same age as her little brother Pippin, and Pippin was everlastingly hungry, as tweens invariably are.

Hilly’s nose twitched at the good, rich smells surrounding him, and he took a muffin from the platter in spite of himself, only belatedly remembering to bow to Eglantine (as Paladin, the host of the home and meal, was by now out of the room with Haldi) and thank her for the food.

‘Yes, eat, Hilly!’ Eglantine said, and the tween needed no further urging. Pervinca filled his bowl more than once, and he stuffed himself with food, glad to recover from his long tramp of the marshes, searching for his missing brother. The hired hobbits happily regaled him with their tale of finding Tolly and Ferdi mysteriously asleep at the top of one of the great hills, wrapped well in their cloaks against the night’s chill, a bright fire warming them, and no sign of their ponies or how or why they’d made the ascent, except for a couple of arrows evidently dropped by Ferdi to mark their trail.

‘But why…?’ Hilly said for the eighth or ninth time, only to be urged to “have some more bread and butter, and would ye care for another bowl of soup?” as no one could answer the question. They’d seen the fire at the top of the hill and thought little enough of it, bent on reaching the marshes so soon as possible. But then someone had stumbled over the arrow on the pathway, and Paladin had recognised it by the fletching as one of Ferdi’s, and bending to illuminate the path with a lantern and a couple of torches they’d discerned a few ponies’ hoofmarks ascending, and thought they ought to investigate the hilltop before going further. Perhaps whoever it was, enjoying the fire at the top of the hill, hunters sleeping under the stars, perhaps, might have seen Ferdi and Tolly… only to discover Ferdi and Tolly themselves!

In the meantime, Haldi had just finished his examination of the sleeping hobbits in Pippin’s room. Perplexed, he shook his head and exchanged a glance with Mardi.

‘Well?’ Paladin said.

‘If it were drink, they’d be easy enough to awaken,’ Haldi said, ‘or if not, I'd smell the brandy on their breath, and even so, a good pinch of the ear ought to bring them round, at least enough to groan!’

‘Tried that on the hilltop,’ Mardi repeated, for he’d rapidly told his father all about the finding of the two, and his own efforts to rouse them, as Haldi was making his examination, ‘and again here, but they just keep sleeping.’

‘Just sleep? Naught else?’ Haldi wanted to know.

‘Else?’ Paladin said. ‘What else would you mean?’

‘Not rousing at all,’ Haldi said. ‘Just sleeping, peacefully, like this, since you found them?’

‘No,’ Paladin said slowly, blinking a little, interrupting Mardi as the younger healer began to answer. ‘Not all peaceful. They seemed to wander in dreams at first…’

‘Nightmare,’ Mardi agreed, ‘why, Ferdi even sat up and shouted at one point…’

‘Shouted? But didn’t waken?’ Haldi wanted to know.

‘Shouted,’ Paladin affirmed, feeling once again a niggling in the back of his brain, something that he needed to do, if only he could remember what it was.

‘Very curious,’ Haldi said, sitting down in the chair between the beds that Mardi had vacated. He shook his head and repeated, ‘Very curious.’ He looked from one peaceful face to the other. ‘And you say they were very pale, with sunken eyes, when you first found them…?’

‘And when they were brought in,’ Pimpernel said, finding her tongue. She’d watched and listened eagerly, hoping that Haldi would have an idea for wakening her beloved to the world once more, but it appeared the old healer was as baffled as anyone. ‘Very pale, but their colour has returned as the morning goes on…’

‘It’s noontide,’ Paladin corrected absently, and then nearly everyone in the room was startled as Tolly abruptly sat up in the bed.

‘Noontide!’ he said. ‘I'm belated! Why, Mum wanted me to…’ his voice trailed off as he took in his surroundings. ‘But…’ he said in bewilderment. ‘Where…? How…?’

‘You’re at Whittacres, my son,’ Haldi said. He’d jumped to his feet at Tolly’s sudden move, and now he had an arm about Tolly’s shoulders and was restraining him. ‘Steady, lad; stay in the bed and let me have a look at you.’

‘In the bed!’ Tolly said in consternation, and then his gaze found Pimpernel among the surrounding hobbits and he flushed and pulled up the bedcovers to his chin. ‘In the bed! In what bed? At Whittacres? How ever did I come to be here?’

Mardi had quickly propped pillows behind Tolly, and now Haldi eased Tolly back against them, half sitting. ‘Steady, lad,’ the older healer said. ‘Steady, now, and try and tell us what you remember.’

‘Remember?’ Tolly echoed, his puzzlement plain. ‘Remember?’

‘What is the last thing you remember?’ Paladin said, crowding a little closer after a glance at Ferdi (who still slumbered on).

‘The last thing…’ Tolly said, and blinked, at last sinking back into the pillows’ support. ‘I'm at Whittacres?’ he asked after a pause.

‘You are,’ Paladin assured him.

‘But how did I come to be here?’ Tolly said.

‘Enough about that now,’ Paladin insisted. ‘What is the last thing you remember?’

Tolly muttered a few disjointed words, and finally said, ‘Remember… But I don’t remember…’

‘What is the last thing?’ Paladin said, not to be denied.

‘Tell us about the day,’ Haldi put in smoothly, sitting himself back down and taking Tolly by the hand. ‘Tell us what you’ve been doing. I returned from the Southlands, do you remember that?’

‘And you were sleeping,’ Tolly said slowly, ‘and Mum sent me out to bag a brace of fat ducks for elevenses…’

‘Aye!’ Haldi said, well pleased. ‘And you came here, to fetch Ferdi, to make it a hunting party…’

Tolly nodded, still seeming unsure. ‘I fetched Ferdi,’ he agreed. ‘And…’ His voice trailed off and he knitted his brows in puzzlement.

‘Tell me about the day,’ Haldi said again. ‘It was foggy when I awakened, a bright fog which the Sun burned away by late in the morning… Do you remember the fog?’

‘It was,’ Tolly agreed, ‘foggy, a cold fog…’ He pulled his hand from his father's grasp, hugged himself and shivered. ‘Cold,’ he said again, his voice trailing away. He seemed to peer into a mist of memory, blinking his eyes, but he said no more.

‘It was foggy,’ Haldi said, ‘…and…?’

Tolly awakened from his reverie. ‘How did I come to be here?’ he said again, abruptly.

‘We found you on the top of a hill, halfway to the marshes,’ Mardi answered. ‘You and Ferdi had built a fire, and were asleep beside it, for all the world as if you were on a walking holiday.’

‘What do you remember?’ Haldi said, with a frown for Mardi for breaking in to his attempt to help Tolly recollect the events of the previous day. He softened his voice once more. ‘It was foggy, a cold fog, you said…?’

But Tolly only shook his head. ‘I remember the mist,’ he said. ‘There were shapes in it. You know how it is, when the mist is shifting before you, and it confuses your eyes. A tree becomes a troll, a rock is a dwarf…’

Just then Pimpernel gave an exclamation, a hopeful, ‘Ferdi!’ as her beloved blinked his eyes, and his hand closed around hers, his grasp tightening as he wakened.

‘Nell?’ he breathed. ‘My Nell?’

‘Ferdi!’ Paladin said, moving quickly to his side. ‘How glad we are to have you back with us, and safe!’

But Ferdi paid him no heed. He had eyes only for Pimpernel, drinking her in, seizing her hand in both of his and holding to her as a drowning hobbit might grasp at a branch or rope. ‘Nell,’ he said. ‘You’re here!’

‘Of course I'm here, silly hobbit,’ Pimpernel said, laughter bubbling forth but quickly fading under the intensity of Ferdi’s gaze. ‘Of course I'm here,’ she said again, but faltered.

‘I thought… they said…’ Ferdi said, and, tensing, drew a deep breath. ‘But then,’ he said, relaxing once more, ‘it was only a dream. It must have been.’

‘A dream?’ Pimpernel said in confusion.

‘Who said, laddie?’ Paladin pressed, seizing on Ferdi’s earlier words. ‘Who said, and what did they say?’

‘The voices,’ Ferdi responded, but then he shook his head. ‘No…’ he said, ‘but it’s gone now. It was just a dream. It must have been.’

‘What do you remember?’ Paladin asked him, and everyone held their breath, even Tolly, to hear the answer.

‘Remember?’ Ferdi said, but he did not loose his desperate grasp on Pimpernel’s hand. ‘I—I don’t…’

‘It was foggy,’ Haldi said. ‘A cold fog, Tolly said, the kind of mist that shifts before your eyes, and seems to show shapes…’

‘A tree becomes a troll,’ Mardi said, remembering, with a nudge for Tolly’s shoulder. ‘And a rock…’

‘There was a Big Man,’ Ferdi said.

‘You thought you saw a Big Man?’ Haldi said. ‘A large rock, or a tall shrub… in the mist…?’

‘He spoke,’ Ferdi said slowly, and took one hand from his grasp of Nell’s, and rubbed at his brow. ‘Or… two of them, perhaps?’

‘Two Big Men? I' truth?’ Paladin said, leaning forward.

‘I—I don’t remember,’ Ferdi said.

Just as he had with Tolly, Haldi tried to lead him in memory, from his wakening the previous day, through Tolly’s arrival, their departure together (such mundane details as drinking tea, going out to the barn, saddling the ponies seemed to steady the hobbit and help the memories flow), the foggy ride, begun in darkness but brightening as the sun rose.

Tolly put in a few details of his own, more of them early on in the remembering, but as they rode (as a manner of speaking) further into the fog, the memories became fewer, until both hobbits again fell silent.

It was evident that they remembered nothing about dropping or placing any arrows, nor climbing the hillside. The whereabouts of the ponies remained a mystery. Ferdi would have thrown off the bedcovers to go in search, but was forestalled. Paladin assured him that he and the hired hobbits would go out in search after the day’s haying was done; they’d enlist the local Shirriff to help them trace and track the animals.

‘And speaking of the haying,’ Paladin said, looking to Haldi. ‘If you’d like to carry your son home again…’

‘Carry me!’ Tolly interrupted. ‘Why, I'm fit as…’

Haldi hushed him. ‘Very kind, I'm sure,’ he said to Paladin. ‘But I think we’ll keep him abed, if it’s no trouble, at least until the morning.’

‘Abed!’ Tolly protested, and Haldi hushed him again.

‘If I might borrow a pony to bring him home on the morrow…’

‘I'm perfectly well!’ Tolly said, but he might as well have saved his breath.

Ferdi, in the meantime, had fallen asleep once more, still firmly holding Pimpernel’s hand.

Haldi left the room for a moment with Mardi, and then returned. ‘I've sent him off home,’ he said, ‘to deal with any calls for a healer, and I'll stay with the lads, watch over them, see if there’s any more for them to be remembering…’

‘Fine,’ Paladin said. ‘I'll send some soup in to you… I daresay Hilly’s eaten his fill by now.’

Haldi snorted. ‘No filling that one up,’ he said. ‘Rather like your Pip, I'd imagine.’ He gave a dry chuckle. ‘I'd heard you sent him off with that Frodo Baggins for a week or two, to give your larder a chance to recover…’

Paladin chuckled in turn, and with a word or two for Pimpernel, and a look to Ferdi and then Tolly (who was in his turn once more subsiding into sleep), he took himself to the kitchen, to finish his interrupted meal, and on to the afternoon’s haying.

But in the back of his mind, something was niggling… And a Big Man, or two, involved in this somehow? He tucked that thought away for future consideration, but soon all his concentration was on the job at hand, and as he worked the afternoon away, making hay under the bright sun burned away the lingering mists of doubt and darkness.

Chapter 17. Getting Back to Normal

There was much work to be got through, all that had not been done in the first half of the day, between early milking and elevenses, when Eglantine had been sleeping, and of course with Pimpernel sitting at Ferdi’s bedside, well, that just threw more work on Pervinca’s shoulders. The youngest sister insisted that her mother should take all the lighter chores, to spare the healing burns, and that she would take on the heavier tasks.

And heavy tasks they were. The previous day, being the first day of the week, ought to have been washday, but what with Eglantine’s early morning mishap, and then the later emergency of the missing hunters, why, things had been thrown completely out of kilter!

‘Still,’ as Vinca insisted, rolling up her sleeves and tying her apron strings with a firm hand, ‘the washing must be done.’ It was testimony to her determination that she did everything needed herself, without grumbling or soliciting Nell’s help. Planning and routine made the task less heavy than it might have been; Nod and his brother Bud had filled the copper to the brim and laid the fire in readiness, as was their usual task after the Highday baths were finished for all the family and hired hobbits. They’d also scrubbed out and set the washtub ready, and filled the rinse tub beside it with fresh, cold water. All Vinca needed to do was spark the fire into life and scoop a generous double handful of soft soap into the washtub, and then while she waited for the water to come to a boil (and a good long wait it would be, and ‘twas no more use watching a boiler than any smaller pot), she could stir up the bread for the morrow’s baking, and set it to rise.

Eglantine insisted on doing her daughters’ chores of making up the beds, dusting, sweeping, polishing the lamps, trimming the wicks and renewing the lamp oil, replacing the burnt-down candles fresh for the eventide. She even wound the dwarf-made clock in the parlour, usually Paladin’s task, but that he’d neglected this morning – unlike himself, Eglantine mused, but then it was a habit of his upon arising, and he’d never yet been to bed.

All this, and added to it was bringing Haldi and Nell occasional cups of tea, and looking in on the recovering hobbits, who seemed likely to sleep the clock around, as if they hadn’t been sleeping hours already. At least Haldi had been able to waken Ferdi enough to eat a bowl of stew from the nooning, and Tolly had managed two bowls before sleep claimed him once more.

Teatime would be a simple meal, Eglantine rued. She checked the rising loaves under their covers; yes, Pervinca knew her business. A quick visit to the bath room showed the lass hard at work, stirring clothes in the steaming tub, her face red and perspiring (“glowing,” Eglantine corrected herself) with the heat and effort. ‘I'll help you peg them out,’ she raised her voice to say, and was rewarded with a quick glance and a nod, but a frown of effort rather than a smile. Washing was heavy work, and this day Vinca had neither sister nor mother to share the load. Eglantine shook her head as she returned to meal preparations. Perhaps they ought to hire a maid, or even two, to help?

In the midst of her busyness she smiled. A maid, or even two, and were they to marry into the family, so to speak, if one or another of the hired hobbits took an interest, well, then…

She tore stale bread into pieces and contrived a savoury bread pudding with onions, bacon, and cheese. Fresh picked apples would have to do for a sweet. She filled bowls with several varieties of apples, from mouth-puckering tartness to honey-sweet and some in between, and placed these at intervals on the long table to make an easy reach. On second thought she filled a bag with apples, as well, to send home to Tolly’s mum on the morrow. She hoped Rosebriar was not fretting too much, and that Hilly had been able to soothe her fears with a good report of Tolly’s wakening and evident improvement. The healer’s wife was not strong, unlikely to make even the short journey from Tuckborough to Whittacres, but she’d probably not rest well until her son was returned to her once more.

With the table set and ready and the pudding sending fine smells into the air, Eglantine went back to Pervinca, in time to take up one of several baskets of wash that had been rinsed, squeezed, and stood ready for the hanging.

‘I don’t see that we can manage the ironing today as well,’ Vinca said, hard at work stirring her last load in the still-warm-but-cooling water. ‘I've washed as quickly as I could manage,’ she sighed and said with a wry look, ‘work hasted is work wasted, aye,’ and Eglantine shook her head and lifted one hand in the polite equivalent of a shrug. What can one do? The well-running routine of the farm had been disrupted, for certain, but they’d soon have everything back as it should be, and barring no more emergencies, all would settle into routine once more. And why should there be any emergencies? The Shire was a quiet and pleasant place, “dull,” she’d heard Bilbo call it, “where nothing ever happens… well, hardly ever.” And that was just the way the Shirefolk preferred things to be.

If she wanted excitement, all she had to do was open a book of old tales. That is, if she had the time. Ah, Paladin was a fine storyteller in his own right, and perhaps he might spin a tale during the washing up, before everyone busied themselves with the late milking and evening chores. Yes, the days were full of the necessary tasks, and Eglantine felt no need to go off, as a mad Baggins might (or even a Took, her mind whispered), in search of adventure.

‘We’ll do the ironing on the morrow,’ she said, ‘and perhaps manage the mending at the same time – with Pip away, there isn’t as much mending as usual, anyhow. And with Ferdi so much better, and promised to get out of the bed in the morning, well, your sister ought to be able to help once more.’

‘That’s a mercy,’ Pervinca said, lifting a dark garment on her stick and slopping it into the rinse tub. ‘How ever are you going to manage when we’re all married and gone away?’

Eglantine smiled. ‘Perhaps we’ll hire a maid or three,’ she said, and then chuckled. ‘Or perhaps you won’t all go away… Ferdi says he plans to stay right here, after all. Plenty of Tookish ponies to be training. And Pip will marry one of these days…’

‘Later than sooner,’ Vinca said. ‘He’s but a tween!’

‘…and he’ll choose a sensible wife, I've no doubt, and she’ll be a great help. And perhaps if Frodo tires of the wilds of Buckland, well, I'm sure Paladin will welcome him here (seeing as how he has no home in Hobbiton any more), and his wife with him.’

‘His wife?’ Vinca said in astonishment.

‘Well, why else would he remove to Buckland, I ask you?’ Eglantine said, taking up the nearest basket and balancing it on her hip. ‘The only reason I can think of is that he has his eye on a sweet Bucklander he knew as a tween, and was just waiting for her to grow up…’

‘There are plenty of girls hereabout, and not to mention Overhill and Waymoot and the Yale! That he should go all the way to Buckland…!’ Pervinca twisted one side of her mouth in a wry expression. ‘Still, that would be just like him, wouldn’t it? He never does quite what you expect him to do.’

‘That would be old Bilbo’s influence,’ Eglantine said with a sigh and shake of her head. ‘Yes, he did the lad a favour by rescuing him from the wilds of Buckland in the first place, but then I'm afraid he filled Frodo’s head with all manner of wild notions. It’s likely only a Bucklander would be able to put up with him.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Pervinca said as her mother turned away to peg out the first basket of laundry.

With the bright sunshine and a good breeze, Eglantine hoped that all would be dry by the end of the day. Not likely, with the shorter days this time of year and the late start, but to be hoped anyhow. Otherwise they’d have to iron it dry, next day, on top of everything else. A part of her wished that they’d left the laundry to first thing tomorrow morning, but that would have put them three days behind. Wash day, iron day, sewing day, market day, the week laid out in proper order and that was the way it ought to be. They’d just have to catch up as best they could. It was a good lesson for Pervinca, at least, who’d likely not forget when running her own smial, how one must keep up with the work or have double work to do.

‘I'm always right!’ Eglantine said with a rippling laugh, and then added, as she always did, ‘except, of course, when I'm not.’

She was rewarded with a giggle from her weary daughter, and with a lighter heart she hurried to her next task.

Chapter 28. A Matter of Missing Ponies

When Paladin and the hired hobbits returned from that afternoon’s haying, Daw Brackenbeater, the Shirriff for the local area was waiting in the kitchen, sipping at a mug of tea while Eglantine and Pervinca bustled about, filling the serving dishes and putting them on the table, alongside the cosied teapots that they’d just set to brewing. The table had been laid and waiting when Daw arrived, the cold foods already set out (new apples, pickled vegetables, and hard-cooked eggs among these), and Eglantine sat down to make small talk with him; it was late enough that she didn’t send him out to the fields, but invited him to take tea with the family, as she expected Paladin to come in from haying at any time.

Sure enough, it was not long before the ponies were heard in the yard, and the cheerful shouts of the returning labourers, who worked quickly to unharness, lightly groom and put away the ponies that went eagerly to their own tea of grain-heaped feedboxes and well-filled haynets. The workers then lined up outside the kitchen door to splash their faces with water and wash and wipe their hands before entering to take the meal.

The clatter of hoofs against the stones was the signal for Eglantine to jump up from her seat, to help Pervinca with the last of the preparations, filling the teapots and setting out the hot food. Daw put down his mug with a word of thanks and went to the door, to be ready to meet Paladin, though out of courtesy he waited until the farmer had greeted Eglantine on entering.

‘Well, very well indeed,’ Paladin was saying in answer to Eglantine’s query about the haying. ‘I think it should be little more than a week, not much more, before we’ll have the bulk cut and stacked and ready to meet whatever storm is coming.’

Eglantine suppressed a shiver at his wording; but of course there would be storms coming, autumn rains, and wind, and perhaps even winter snow and ice, and the hay skilfully stacked to resist and stand dry and firm against all assaults, assurance that the animals that depended on Paladin and his family would not go hungry through the cold and lean months to come. ‘That’s good,’ she said, ‘and so perhaps you can spare a hobbit or three to help us to get the vegetables in as well. I'm sorry to say I'm a bit behind myself this week…’

‘Of course!’ Paladin said, with a peck for her cheek, and then he turned to welcome the Shirriff. ‘Jackdaw,’ he said, a little more formal than usual, as he’d sent for the hobbit on business. ‘Join us for tea, if you please, and then we’ll see to the matter of Ferdi’s strayed ponies…’

‘My pleasure, and thanks,’ Daw replied with a bow. He was a short, spry fellow with wrinkled, faded clothes and a luxuriant crop of untidy black hair with an unexpected shock of white at the back of his head, a little longer than convention demanded. He was not as neat as the tidy Tooks of the Great Smials would have liked, but he was a hobbit who knew his business and that was what mattered most to Paladin, and to Mayor Will, who had hired him in the first place. ‘I'm glad the young fellows were found safe; I was searching in the marshes with old Haldi when word came they’d been found. Upon a hilltop, they said…?’

The talk continued as they took their places at table and the heavy laden platters and serving bowls were passed around, quickly lightening their load as the hungry workers tucked in. Of course everyone had something to contribute to the discussion; they’d all been out in the dark hours, on the search, and had much to say about the dark, and the slow-gathering mist in the valleys, damp and clinging and likely to chill the bones, and the brightness of the stars seen from the hilltop.

‘And no sign of their ponies,’ Daw inquired, after washing a mouthful of savoury goodness down with a swig of newly freshened tea, hot and strong as he liked it. ‘No sign, and they haven’t come home again?’

‘No,’ Paladin said, ‘and that’s worrying. They were not so far from home that they wouldn’t find their way, I should think…’

‘What does Ferdi think?’ Daw said, for after all, Ferdi was well known for his knowledge about ponies and their behaviour.

Paladin shook his head. ‘He’s not been wakeful for more than long enough to take a few bites of food, and then he sleeps again,’ he said. ‘Getting better, though, as the hours pass, or so old Haldi says.’

‘Sleeping!’ Daw said in surprise. ‘I'd heard they were found safe – were they injured, then, or is the rumour true as they were saying in Whitwell, that the two of them had taken too much drink to remember why they were out and about in the first place…? But that much drink! To be sleeping through the day…!’

‘Not drunken, no,’ Paladin said, before Eglantine could raise a protest of her own. ‘Haldi doesn’t know exactly what’s the matter with the hobbits.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It’s as if they’d taken some deadly hurt, though there’s not a mark on ‘em, and they need the sleep to heal.’ He’d never have said the words deadly hurt in Pimpernel’s hearing, but as the lass was still sitting in another room, at Ferdi’s side, he felt he could risk the matter. Hopefully Daw – and the hired hobbits, when they ventured into Whitwell – would dispel the rumour of too much to drink.

‘Well then,’ Daw said, after dabbing his mouth and laying aside his serviette, though Paladin could see he was not completely convinced. ‘No sign of the ponies…’

‘…but then, it was dark as a trolls’ cave last night,’ Paladin said, and Eglantine shivered at his wording. There had been an ill feeling in the air, for certain, that had dissipated in the bright afternoon sun, with the homely smells of breeze-drying laundry and baking bread pudding filling the air, along with the heady scent of the late roses that bloomed in profusion around the smial’s doors and windows. But now the shadows were beginning to creep across the yard, and the bright sunshine was turned to afternoon gold and all too soon would be fading into twilight. ‘We thought we’d go out and see if we could find something of their tracks between now and eventides.’

Eglantine suppressed a sigh. No rest for the weary. Paladin hadn’t slept in two nights, and now after haying all the daylong he was proposing to traipse across the countryside in search of a couple of stray ponies.

To her relief, the Shirriff held up a staying hand. ‘Probably found their way to a neighbour’s,’ he said. ‘Not much use going out tracking this time of day. Neighbour’ll probably be bringing the ponies in, at any time now.’

Paladin hesitated. Of course the neighbours were as busy with harvest tasks as he was, and if they’d found Ferdi’s ponies, they’d take good care of them until the day’s tasks were done. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But what if…?’

Daw smiled in his best reassuring manner. ‘I'll go out, first thing,’ he said. ‘Morning light is good for tracking, I find.’ He cast an eye out the window, a quick survey of the sky though he already knew the answer. ‘No sign of rain,’ he added. ‘Any tracks will still be there in the morning; anything the searchers won’t have trampled over, anyhow.’ He finished with his strongest argument. ‘There’s no need for you to leave your harvesting to look for a couple of ponies,’ he said.

Paladin might have pointed out that they’d just finished teatime, that there was no more work for this day except the usual evening chores: milking the cows, giving the ponies a thorough grooming to brush away the salty sweat from the day’s work, turning them out for a good roll in the pasture, to graze until twilight fell, feeding the other animals, checking the harness and waggons towards the next day’s requirements, shutting up the poultry safe from foxes, owls, and other dangers, and more. Going off to look for ponies now would have pushed much of the work back into the dark hours, by lamplight, a weary prospect for hobbits who’d searched through the previous night instead of sleeping.

Eglantine suppressed a sigh of relief as Paladin allowed as he might wait for a neighbour to bring the ponies back this evening, and Daw promised to return in the dawning, to see if they’d returned, and to set out to track them if they hadn’t.

Her relief would have been short-lived, replaced by an unsettled feeling, had she heard her husband’s last instruction to the Sherriff, as he walked partway down the lane to see Daw off. ‘Be sure you bring an assistant or two with you on the morrow,’ Paladin said, his expression uncharacteristically sober.

‘You think it’ll be that hard to track them?’ Daw said. ‘I hope I know my business…!’

‘I'm sure that you do,’ Paladin said quickly, but his hand on the Shirriff’s arm stopped them for a moment, before he indicated that they should keep on walking. ‘I'm sure that you do,’ he repeated. ‘It’s just that… there’s something amiss. I can’t quite put my finger on’t, but…’ He shrugged. ‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea to be out there, alone, not at least until we find out more about what happened to Ferdi and Tolly.’

The Shirriff nodded thoughtfully, Paladin’s earlier whispered deadly hurt sounding in his memory. But all he said in reply was, ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

It wouldn’t hurt to take Nonnie’s younger son, and perhaps Daisy’s two lads with him, just to give them a chance to learn more of tracking. His nephews hoped someday to become Shirriffs themselves, though there were few positions available, and a fellow had to be skilled in tracking and handling animals, and not averse to walking all the day long. No harm in letting the lads practice their skills on the morrow.

Deadly harm, whispered in his thoughts. On the other hand, perhaps he’d ask his brother and his uncle to go with him instead.

With a nod, he repeated, ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

Chapter 19. Fading Echoes

Middle night, 25-26 September

Eglantine was suddenly awake, though only a moment before she had been dreaming, uneasily perhaps, from the tension in her body as her eyes sprang open, though the dream itself was gone. She was panting, as if she’d run a race, and as she pulled up the covers she shook suddenly, as if seized with a chill that belied the warm bedding. ‘Dinny!’ she whispered, against her better judgement. The unfortunate hobbit had already gone two nights without sleeping, and here she was disturbing him once again…

…only to realize, as she reached for his comforting bulk, that his side of the bed was empty, and not even any lingering warmth there, as if he’d been gone a long time.

‘Dinny!’ she said again, louder, sitting up to see the hollowed place in the pillow where his head had rested, when they’d sought the bed a little earlier than usual – yes, he’d been to bed, and now he was gone from the bed, and it was cold, so cold, she thought incoherently.

Likely he'd gone to the privy, she told herself, for the weather continued fine, no need to use the chamber pot. He'd be put out to think he'd disturbed her slumber, so she'd just stay in the bed and wait for him to return. She'd wait... Surely he'd be back before the parlour clock chimed another quarter.

The time seemed to stretch out into eternity, and she remained cold, and huddle as she might in the blankets she could not seem to get warm. Where was Dinny? She waited. And waited.

At last, after what seemed half the night (though the clock did not chime, so it couldn't be that long, now, could it?) she thrust her feet out from under the covers, fighting down the half-formed notion that something waited in the shadows, beneath the bed perhaps, waited to seize her with a clawlike hand. ‘Nonsense,’ she muttered, sitting herself up and seeking the floor with her toes. She threw back the bedcovers in defiance of the darkness and stood to her feet. ‘Dinny?’

Silence drowned the slumbering smial. Eglantine might have been the last living soul left in a lonely world; no snores, no stir of bedding, no sleepers’ heavy breathing, not even the ticking of the dwarf-made clock.

Fighting fear, she tiptoed from the bedroom and slipped down the hallway like a ghost, past the other bedrooms, silent and shadowy. Eglantine dared not peek in at the doorways, for fear she’d find all the beds mysteriously empty, or worse.

The side-door of the smial stood ajar, allowing a deathly chill to creep into the smial though there was no breath of a breeze to stir the air.

She crept to the door and peeped out into the still and black night. With no moon to light the sky, the yard seemed ominously dark, though as she pushed at the door, she looked up to see a multitude of stars scattered across the sky, their light somehow too cold, too distant, to do aught but make the shadowy yard seem darker, more silent.

She could just make out Paladin’s bulk, standing a few feet from the door. ‘D-dinny?’ she ventured, her voice quavering with chill at the very least, and perhaps unease, though she hugged herself tightly and fought down her fear, unwarranted as it seemed to be, a mere fancy.

‘Dinny,’ she said, a little stronger, advancing into the yard. She saw the shadow of her husband move as he turned, moved to her, and suddenly his arms were around her, warm, and she hadn’t realised until that moment how cold she’d been, how very cold, chilled almost to the heart.

‘Aggie!’ he said, warm breath ghosting in her ear. ‘What in the world? Out without even a shawl! Come in, before you catch your death…’

She gave a shiver at that, though at the same time a smile surprised her – she was the one who usually fussed about someone catching their death, and here was Dinny…

‘I might say the same,’ she managed, though her teeth threatened to chatter. ‘What are you doing, my love, leaving your warm bed to stand out in the cold…!’

‘The stars are so bright this night,’ he said, as if changing the subject. ‘I got up to see… and…’

‘To see the stars?’

‘To see the night,’ he said, and she was puzzled. Why would anyone want to see the night? Stars, she could understand, for there was something fascinating about them following their courses, faithful in their nightly dance, but… night? Night was time for sleeping, for the most part, unless you were watching with an animal that was sick or birthing, or by someone’s sickbed. Or deathbed, something whispered in the back of her mind, and she shivered again.

Paladin was immediately solicitous. ‘But you have caught a chill,’ he insisted, steering her into the smial and closing the door firmly. ‘A cup of tea?’

‘Nothing wrong with me that my pillow can’t solve,’ Eglantine said. Her husband hadn’t slept for two nights, and tonight was making a third, and though a hot, bracing cup would be welcome she was not going to be the one keeping him from his own pillow, no indeed! ‘The blankets, now, they’re lovely and warm as well.’

He chuckled low, and after making sure the side-door was securely latched against night breezes, he steered them down the corridor towards their bedroom, his arm warm around her waist. And now, as they passed the other rooms, Eglantine could hear the heavy breathing of sleepers within. Why had the night seemed so silent, only a little while ago?

By tacit agreement, they stayed quiet, not talking until they curled together in the bed. ‘That’s better,’ Paladin murmured, making sure Eglantine’s cold soles rested on his own feet’s woolly warmth. ‘Much better.’

‘…but what were you doing out there in the yard in the first place?’ Eglantine wanted to know. ‘In the cold, in the dark…?’

‘I was thinking of our lad,’ Paladin said, his arms briefly tightening as his wife drew a sharp breath.

‘You think…?’ Suddenly her unsettling dream, her unreasoning fear returned full force.

‘Nothing of the sort,’ Paladin replied, soothing, one hand pulling free from his embrace to rub gently up and down her back. ‘I was thinking that they ought to have come safely to Crickhollow this evening some time, or on the morrow at the very latest, even if they stopped for a long time at the Golden Perch in passing…’

Come safely rang in Eglantine’s ears, and she seized on the words.

‘Come safely,’ she echoed. ‘Then why were you standing in the cold, in the dark, to look at the night?’

He hugged her closer. ‘I've been unsettled the last few days, ‘tis true,’ he said. ‘And no wonder, what with Ferdi and Tolly gone missing, and that terrible dream, as if a warning, and Ferdi’s nightmare about Frodo…’

Eglantine waited in silence. At last Paladin was unfolding the reasons for his unease, somewhat, for he’d not talked about his dream the other night, just when she thought he would. He’d merely shrugged it off, and they’d gone to bed, with her none the wiser.

‘…but if aught had gone amiss, we’d have had a messenger pretty quick, I'd think,’ Paladin said. ‘If Frodo were hurt along the way, I'm sure our lad would keep his wits about him, send Samwise for help, or leave Sam to tend Frodo whilst he sought help, and in any event, he’d’ve sent a quickpost rider with a message, I've no doubt.’

‘No doubt,’ Eglantine said, beginning to relax again.

‘And as there’s been no word, I'm sure all my fancies have been just that: fancies,’ Paladin said. ‘No truth in ‘em at all.’ He essayed a chuckle. ‘Too much spice in the sausages, as you said,’ he added.

‘And the something wrong?’ Eglantine said, wrinkling her brow. ‘We both felt it. We both felt… something.’

Paladin rolled away and shook his head against the pillow.

‘There was,’ Eglantine insisted. ‘Something.’

‘Something,’ Paladin muttered. ‘For the life of me, Aggie, I can’t think… What ever it might have been, that feeling, it’s not there now. Somewhat was amiss, the last few days, an itch I couldn’t scratch, something I couldn’t put my finger on, but now…’

Though it went against her natural inclination, foolish fancy as it was, Eglantine found herself holding her breath and reaching, stretching, with her ears and heart and all of her senses, really, listening hard, to what, she couldn’t really say. Listening for something she could not define, nor, apparently, could her husband.

‘It’s gone, whatever it was,’ she said to herself, but Paladin heard, and he rolled over again to envelop her in his arms.

‘Whatever it was,’ he said with a yawn. ‘Likely fancy, and foolish lads who partook of too much medicinal brandy and forgot all about their hunt.’

Eglantine pursed her lips at this, and might have said more, but in the next moment she felt Paladin relax, and then he began to snore. Just like that! she thought to herself with a mental shake of her head. She lay very still, not wanting to disturb him, and it wasn’t long before she drifted off as well.

Chapter 20. Another Day, Another Dawning

26 September, early morning

A small muster rode up the lane in the dawning light as the farm family and hired hobbits sat down to second breakfast. As she was crossing the kitchen to the long table with a bowl of apple compote in hand, Pervinca stopped before the window, eyes widening. ‘Da!’ she said. ‘Somewhat’s amiss, I gather, and the Thain is wanted!’

‘Amiss!’ Paladin said, rising from his place, but then his face relaxed. ‘Ah, lass, ‘tis only Daw and hobbit or two, come to seek after Ferdi’s ponies.’

‘A hobbit or five, perhaps,’ Pervinca said, taking one hand from the heavy ceramic bowl to point.

‘Five?’ her father echoed, but nodded to himself. Evidently the Shirriff had taken Paladin’s warning to heart, instead of searching on his own, as he so often did, on a regular basis, under ordinary circumstances.

This is scarcely ordinary, Paladin thought to himself. In the moment it took to cross to the door and throw it open to greet the newcomers, he made up his mind.

Daw alone dismounted, handing his reins to a slightly older (and slightly less dishevelled, if the truth be told) hobbit with an otherwise close resemblance to the Shirriff.

‘Dinny!’ he cried. ‘I trust t’strayed ponies came not back to their beds, nor were returned by a helpful neighbour, or you’d’ve sent me some word since last we spoke…’

‘ ‘Tis only the truth,’ Paladin allowed. He nodded to the other riders. ‘I see you’ve brought help.’

‘O aye,’ Daw said, taking his feathered hat from his head and bowing to Eglantine, who’d come to stand beside her husband, and to the hired hobbits crowding around behind. He rightly surmised that Paladin had not confided his alarms to the others, from their relaxed visages, and so he merely added, ‘The more, the quicker the search, I'll wager. Yon hill where Ferdi and Tolly were found is high and wild, and the ponies might’ve strayed in any direction at all.’ He frowned. ‘Though it still wonders me, that they didn’t stray in this direction, if you take my meaning.’

‘It is a puzzle,’ Paladin said. ‘That’s why I'll be coming with you.’

At his wife’s exclamation, he put an arm around Eglantine’s waist. ‘Naught to worry,’ he said. ‘I just think it’s best to show the searchers exactly where we found the lads, to save them time. And they are Ferdi’s ponies, after all. If he were well enough, you know he’d be riding out with them. I'll just go in his stead.’ He let her go and half-turned to scan the faces of the hired hobbits, who seemed poised to join the search. ‘Nod,’ he said, finding the hobbit he wanted. ‘The haying won’t wait; you take my place this day. I'm sure we’ll be wanting all the hay we can gather when winter comes howling over the Green Hills…’

‘No doubt,’ Nod said, tugging at his forelock in agreement in the same way he’d’ve touched his cap, had he been wearing it. ‘We’ll see to it, Master, and all else that’s needed. Have no fears on that account.’

‘I leave the work in good hands, I've no doubt,’ Paladin said. ‘Well, then, Daw, will ye join us for a bite of breakfast ere we depart, or…’

‘We’ve food packed,’ the Shirriff said, a bit regretfully, for he knew that Eglantine set a fine table. ‘If you don’t mind, sir… I'd like to make an early start.’

‘I'll just pack you some food,’ Eglantine said at once, and hurried to do just that, even as Nod directed Jay to go and saddle a pony for Paladin’s use, and told the other hired hobbits to “sit down and eat, for the hay’s waiting and the day’s not getting any younger.” With a nod to the Shirriff, he returned to the table himself to tuck in. Haying is heavy work, and hobbits work best when well fuelled.

Eglantine caught up three of the bags stuffed with new apples, bread, cheese, cold meat, and a few hand pies, made up between early breakfast and second breakfast, standing ready and meant for elevenses for the hobbits working out in the hay field. She combined all the food into one, calculating that it would be enough for a day in the saddle, though she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Pervinca quickly refilled the two emptied bags and laid them with the others that awaited the hired hobbits’ departure.

In less time than it takes to tell, the little group were riding away down the lane, and only then did Eglantine think to seek out Pimpernel (still sitting at her Ferdi’s bedside), to let her know that a search had been mounted for the missing ponies, and to reassure Ferdi on that account if he were to ask when he wakened again. Haldi dozed on a chair by Tolly’s bed, and Tolly and Ferdi were obviously deep in sleep, and so Eglantine whispered her message and crept out of the room on tiptoe.

***

After the hired hobbits departed for the hayfields, Eglantine and Pervinca sat themselves down for a bite of breakfast, and then as Vinca gathered the plates and cups and silver for washing up, Eglantine loaded a tray with breakfast for Pimpernel and brought it to her. The sleepers still slept; it would be simple enough to put together a fresh breakfast for them when they wakened, rather than leaving the food to go cold and stale, waiting on plates (and Ferdi hated cold food in any event), and so Eglantine left Nell to eat and promised to return for the tray.

Eglantine covered and put away the food while Vinca began the washing up, and then Eglantine dried and put away the dishes while Vinca swept the floor, and then it was time to air the bedrooms and dust and sweep and all the other myriad little details of comfortable living, and if they worked just as quick as might be, they just might get through all the work by the time the hired hobbits returned for the nooning, even though they were short-handed.

Haldi wakened halfway through their washing up, and ventured into the kitchen, bearing Nell’s tray with him, to report that Ferdi and Tolly were sleeping peacefully, and he was inclined to let them sleep themselves out, or until elevenses, whichever came first. Vinca prepared a plate for him and a fresh pot of tea, and sat him down at the table to eat, “and plenty more where that came from.” He thanked her much indeed, and tucked in with good appetite, which Eglantine found curiously reassuring. If he were worried about his two patients, wouldn’t he have taken his food directly back to the bedroom?

In the meantime, Eglantine was cutting up meat and vegetables, preparatory to setting a large pot of stew going for the noontide meal. The hired hobbits would return hungry after their morning labours, with several hours more before they finished for the day. She’d’ve preferred making savoury pies this day, but settled for stew, which could bubble away without much attention whilst she and Vinca managed all the other work.

Yes, Eglantine thought to herself. It would be good to hire a maid or two. There was more work than even three of them could manage, these days, and with Pimpernel sitting bedside watch, it was nearly overwhelming. In her head she ticked off the tasks for the day. The washing and drying were done (thanks to bright sun and a stiff breeze the previous day), but that meant there was plenty of ironing waiting, and the mending would have to wait for the morrow. The cream was rising in the milk pans, and would need to be skimmed and churned into butter, and the vegetables wouldn’t harvest themselves (though perhaps on the morrow she could ask Nod for a hobbit or two to help with the garden until the taters and carrots and other roots had been dug and the rest of the kitchen garden was harvested). There was bread to stir up and knead and set to rise, and meals to cook (elevenses for those in the smial, and nooning for everyone, just for starters).

But first… she’d dust and sweep half the rooms, and Vinca would manage the rest. It was a good thing that her hand was practically healed! She couldn’t imagine leaving all the work to her one daughter, willing worker though she might be! Yes, she thought again, ‘twould be good to hire a maid, or even three.

Entering the parlour to dust, she stopped short, for something was wrong, though at first she couldn’t put her finger on it. And then realisation struck her – the dwarf-made clock stood still and dumb. Broken?

…but no, she discovered. The clock had simply wound down. In all the recent alarming events, she’d completely forgotten to wind the mechanism, and while it was a wonder (and she didn’t understand how the thing worked, and didn’t really care to – all she wanted was that it would work, marvellous piece of dwarf magic that it was, always telling the right time and never gaining nor losing a minute, until now), well, evidently it was not wonderful enough to work without its regular winding.

She wound the clock, but as to setting the time, well, that would have to wait for Paladin’s return, for him to consult his pocket watch as to the correct time. The best she could manage was to go out to the sun dial in the garden (plucking a few weeds on the way – ah, but they’d neglected the weeding in the busyness of the past day or two as well) and then on returning to the parlour, move the hands carefully to match the approximate time; and then for the rest of the day, each whirring chime was a reproach, knowing that the clock was most likely not keeping exact time as had been its custom.

P’rhaps last night’s disquiet had been merely that – missing the ticking that was her constant companion, day and night, when she was in the smial.

P’rhaps. She did hope that Dinny and the Shirriff’s party would find the missing ponies quickly (she wondered if maybe they were already on their way homeward?), and return sooner than later, and then all would be back to the way it ought to be. Except, of course, for Pip’s absence. She really wouldn’t be completely at rest until her youngest returned from his journeying. But then, he’d only reached Crickhollow last night or this morning. Even if he turned right around (and she hardly expected him to do such a thing; no, he ought to stay a few days at the least, to help Frodo settle in), it would take him two days to walk back again.

Three, if he were to stop off at the Golden Perch.

Chapter 21. Back from the Brink

26 September, mid-morning

The view from the top of the large hill was spectacular; it seemed as if all of the Tookland was laid out before them, green hills rolling away on every side. Why, Paladin could see Tuckborough, tucked into the side of Great Hill to the east of where he sat his pony, and Whitwell lay just to the other side of the hill facing him, and his farm beyond, and the marshland to the west, where Ferdi and Tolly had been headed before they inexplicably interrupted their journey to climb this height.

To gain a better view? View of what?

It struck Paladin that this hill, next largest in the Green Hills to Great Hill, commanded a fine vantage of the surrounding countryside, quiet and a little out of the way (unlike Great Hill, which housed not only Tuckborough on one side but the Great Smials on another), the grass on the hill kept in check by the occasional flock of sheep. Had Ferdi and Tolly turned aside from their path to follow a Man or Men up the hillside, to inquire about their business? And what sort of business would a Man or Men have, climbing a hill in the midst of the wild Green Hill country, with no smial in the immediate area, just paths winding through the valleys?

He frowned as his gaze dropped from the panorama before him, to the blackened circle that remained of the fire where they’d found the lads sleeping. What business indeed?

He didn’t like it. No, not at all. Any Man on legitimate business in the Tookland would be found on a path, not upon a windswept hilltop.

He lifted his eyes from the fire circle to see the progress of the hobbits who were quartering the ground, but no, it was apparent that they’d still found nothing of note. He thought again about Daw’s observations as they’d reached the spot where Ferdi and Tolly had turned aside from the track that led to the marshes. Horse hoofs and ponies’ intermingled, so as to make it difficult to say which had preceded the others. More than one horse, Daw had said. As many as three or even four, he’d thought. And Daw’s uncle had found sign of horses descending again, more than one though how many more he could not be sure, and no sign of the ponies descent. By rights they ought to have found the ponies here upon the hilltop, or at least some sign of the beasts.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from one of the younger hobbits, Daw’s nephew Dally it was. He’d reached the western edge of the hill, where the land fell away sharply. ‘Here!’ the searcher cried again, waving an imperative arm.

Paladin turned his pony’s head that way and nudged the beast into motion. The rest of the ponies, hobbled, continued their grazing nearby with no apparent interest in the proceedings, and no inclination to approach the edge of the precipice, for ponies are sensible creatures on the whole, much more sensible than the hobbit who, having gained the others’ attention, now lay on his belly to creep to the edge.

Paladin nudged the pony to a trot, though he had no intention of approaching too closely, and the other searchers converging on the spot broke into a run.

‘Get back, Dally!’ Daw cried sharply. ‘Are ye daft?’

Paladin pulled his pony to a stop, well back from the edge, and slid from the saddle. He was close enough now to hear Dally’s reply, though the young hobbit wasn’t shouting, more like thinking aloud.

‘Some sign here,’ the lad said. ‘And…’ But he shook his head and pushed himself backward again. ‘Cannot see past the overhang…’

‘Overhang!’ Daw panted, having reached the place at his fastest pace, but he had enough strength to seize his nephew, pull him further back from the edge, and give him a good shaking when he deemed they were on safe ground once more. ‘Ye daft coney, y’never venture out on an overhang! Not if ye don’t want t’be testin’ yer wings!’

‘There’s signs,’ Dally said stubbornly. ‘I couldn’t see below, but the signs…’

With a grumble Daw released the lad and crouched. ‘Likely spoilt,’ he muttered, but soon he was following with eye and extended hand, held before him perhaps for perspective or focus, some disturbance of the ground near the overhang.

The other searchers, arriving on the spot, stayed well back.

At last he straightened with a grunt and turned to Paladin. ‘It may well be that they went over,’ he said. ‘Something went over, any road.’

‘As there’s no sign of the ponies on any of the paths descending,’ Paladin said, ‘and they’re not here on the hilltop, I'd say “go down and around” and see just what went over, then.’

***

The sleepers awakened shortly before elevenses, really awakened, Eglantine was glad to hear, not just half-awake and half-dreaming. They were wide awake, and ravenous, and consequently somewhat put out by Haldi’s insistence on shooing Pimpernel from the room so that he could conduct a thorough examination before allowing them to dress.

Nell emerged into the kitchen with a shining face. ‘He’s awake!’ she said.

‘So I heard,’ Eglantine said dryly. At hearing voices raised in argument, she’d draped her dustcloth over the back of a chair and hurried to the kitchen, and was at the moment breaking eggs into a bowl while fat melted in the frying pan. ‘Quick now, slice the bread and lay the butter on thick! Sounds as if there’s no time to wait for toasted bread this morning. Vinca! Get out the applesauce, and the platter of cold meat and cheese we laid out earlier. I've got the kettle on…’

When healer and sleepers emerged, not too much later, the tea was steeping and Eglantine was scooping fluffy scrambled eggs into a serving bowl. ‘Aggie-mum!’ Ferdi said, settling his braces on his shoulders before he took the bowl from her, to carry it to the table. He inhaled deeply. ‘Ah, smells so good I could bury my face in the bowl!’

‘Just like the pigs,’ Tolly said with a laugh.

‘Only comelier,’ Ferdi returned.

‘Much comelier!’ Nell said, taking the bowl of eggs from Ferdi and plonking it down on the table. ‘Now sit! Eat! Before you fade away to naught!’

‘Naught much chance of that,’ Tolly punned, but he was quick to take a place at table and was soon loading his plate with eggs, buttered bread, slices of ham and apple compote.

Ferdi was quick to follow, and soon he and Tolly were arguing over something-or-other as he poured out steaming tea into their mugs, and stopped…

‘But won’t you be joining us?’ he said. ‘Surely this is not all for us!’

‘Of course it is!’ Eglantine said, and laughed. It was so good to see them on their feet, recovered from whatever it was that had laid them low. Or perhaps on their feed was a better word for it. Haldi beamed from the doorway, and when Eglantine caught his eye he mouthed, No worse for the worry. She nodded in satisfaction, though a part of her still wondered what, exactly, had been the matter and how, exactly, they had been laid low. And recovered again. She remembered their pale countenances, their sunken and hollowed eyes, and Pervinca’s unthinking, They look dead…!

But now Pervinca was laying more places. ‘Of course it isn’t!’ she said. ‘We’ve been working our fingers to the bone all the morning, and if it were not for elevenses we’d probably drop in our tracks from exhaustion.’

Ferdi arose abruptly, went to Pimpernel and seized her hand, beginning an intense scrutiny.

‘What in the world are you doing?’ that lass laughed.

‘Fingers to the bone,’ he echoed, and kissed her fingertips gently. ‘This will never do.’ Another kiss, and he added, ‘There, is that better?’

She snatched her hand away with a blush and then gave her beloved a push. ‘Go! Eat! I'm coming.’

Haldi, Eglantine and the lasses took their places and loaded their plates. Eglantine had the feeling the old healer was watching his former charges closely, though he appeared to be giving strict attention to his plate.

‘Elevenses!’ Tolly said. ‘I cannot remember the last time I slept until elevenses!’

‘You’ve been ill,’ Haldi said.

Tolly laughed. ‘I cannot remember being taken ill!’ he said. ‘Indeed, I feel well! Better, even!’

Ferdi drew a deep breath. ‘The air is fresh as springtime,’ he said. ‘But perhaps it’s because I dreamt of springtime.’

Nell blushed, but perhaps it was only too understandable, for springtime would bring a wedding, and more…

Eglantine frowned briefly, for Ferdi’s dreams had not sounded at all pleasant, not the little bit she’d overheard, but then, he’d slept deeply over the past night, and perhaps it was the most recent dreams he was remembering. And maybe that was for the best, after all.

She found herself wondering what Dinny and the searchers had found. Any sign of Ferdi’s ponies? Surely they had not been spirited away on the wind! They must have left some sign of their passing. She applied herself, then, to her meal, for there was work a-plenty waiting to fill the time before late nooning, when the hired hobbits would be coming in from the field and looking for a hot and wholesome meal.

Chapter 22. What the Searchers Found

26 September, just past mid-day

Paladin might have fretted at the time all this was taking, were he not seriously disturbed over the implications that were staring him in the face. Finding Men, in the Shire, was not all that unusual an occurrence. Certainly Men were not common, and of course they were discouraged from settling in this land granted the hobbits by a long-dead King (well, there were a few that Paladin knew about, a very few, including a family of woodcutters who paid in wood and labour to live on land owned by the Tooks) – but they did travel through. After all, one of the duties of the Thain was to keep the roads for the King, and so far as keeping the roads went, Thains had done it, even long after there were no more Kings to keep the roads for.

These Men, though, had hardly kept to the roads in their wanderings. And they'd had something to do with Ferdi and Tolly being found sleeping under suspicious circumstances, atop this great hill that the farmer and shirriff's party were skirting.

No, he was seriously disturbed.

It was bad enough, to be called from the fields in the middle of haying, on such a fine day, and Pippin gone as well, to support his older cousin in removing to the Wilds of Buckland. Paladin's frown intensified. He'd offered Frodo a place on the farm – why remove to Buckland? Why not stay in the heart of the Shire? He shook his head, for that was neither here nor there, and not a part of the business at hand. Nod was perfectly competent to direct the hired hobbits in the haying. Paladin's being pulled away merely reduced the number of hands available to do the work, and the farmer had a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that every stalk of hay would be needed this winter.

A Fell Winter, or a Long one – something ill blew in the sweet-scented autumnal breeze, and here he was, searching for a pair of missing ponies.

Still, the ponies were a part of the mystery surrounding Ferdi and Tolly's mishap, whatever it might have been, and so he did not feel he could simply send Jackdaw out to find them. No, he had a pressing need to see for himself, to put the pieces together, to understand the unknown; in part, he was driven by his responsibility as Thain and chief of the Muster, for the safety of the Shirefolk.

Still, there was nothing to call a Muster about. A pair of missing ponies?

Daw had insisted that they descend by an easier trail than the one the hunters had taken. After all, they'd already scoured the ground around the base of the great hill, before ascending, and had found no indications leading away in another direction. They had not followed the side-branching trail that led southward, passing under the overhang, when they'd first reached the hill, for the only tracks there were those of horses, coming from the south. Horses, not ponies. Coming, and not going back again. Passing through?

Interestingly, the tracking party discerned that several horses had descended by the same path. After all this business was over, he'd half a mind to send Daw on the track of those horses, to see where they'd gone after descending the hill. But first things must come first.

At last they reached the south-branching track. Daw, in the lead, held up his hand to stop them, and swung down from his saddle. He pointed, and Paladin craned to see.

'There,' Daw said. 'Clear marks of horses, as we saw before, coming from the South.' He began to walk, leading his pony, and the others followed at a slow pace.

The Sun smiled down from the deep blue of the autumnal sky. The day had grown warm, enough for the riders to shed their cloaks and jackets and roll up their shirtsleeves. Paladin was thankful for the gentle breeze that stirred the grasses on the hillside above them, making the wildflowers nod their heads. It would be a beautiful day for a picnic, or a walking party – and Paladin thought of the walkers, Pippin and Frodo and that gardener-fellow, who ought to be reaching Crickhollow sometime soon if not already. If Pip did not stay overlong, helping Frodo to settle in at Crickhollow, he and Merry would have fine weather for the tramp back again.

At the thought of a picnic, he dug a sausage roll from the supplies he carried, and followed it with a hand pie filled with chopped apples – ah, the apples of this year's picking had even a sweeter flavour than he remembered from previous years. The harvest was a good one... so why did he feel such urgency at getting in as much as possible, as soon as possible?

The food, good and satisfying as it had been, sat uneasily in his stomach some time later, when a puff of the southerly breeze carried a sudden discordant note, a hint of a taint, faint, yet growing stronger as they progressed.

Paladin urged his pony to the head of the group that was pacing slowly behind the Shirriff – Daw looked up and stopped, on seeing him – and dismounted.

'No sign of the ponies,' the Shirriff said.

'No hoofprints, perhaps,' Paladin said. 'But what about...?' He raised his face to the breeze, sniffing to catch that elusive taint against the backdrop of sun-warmed grass and heather.

Daw shrugged. 'Could be almost anything,' he said. 'A dead rabbit, perhaps...'

'Or a dead pony, or two,' Paladin said heavily. 'You said yourself, there were signs that something went over...'

'I don't like to bake bread before it's risen,' Daw said. 'Something might've gone over, and the ponies went up, but not down, at least not by any path that we've found... But it's a big world, Dinny, and I've been surprised more'n once, when I've made an assumption. I like to see with my own eyes...' He shook his head, and one corner of his mouth rose in a wry half-smile. 'You know what they say about assuming things... When you assume, you're likely to make an “ass” of “u” and “me”.' Though the Shirriff was hardly a well-lettered fellow, he had, in his youth, enjoyed listening to old Bilbo Baggins on that hobbit's visits to the Spotted Duck in Tuckborough, and still quoted some of the old fellow's witticisms, years after his disappearance.

The farmer could not argue with this sound wisdom, but for the feeling in the pit of his stomach. He kept his feelings to himself, however, and simply paced alongside the Shirriff, leading his pony.

The hint of corruption grew stronger as they progressed, however, and then they saw a circling of carrion birds in the air ahead of them, and the hillside loomed steep and rocky to the side of the trail, bathed in sunlight, and Paladin knew without a doubt, though he could not have told how he knew, exactly what lay at the end of their search, and his earlier foreboding returned.

...only to intensify, when they reached the spot, and stared down at the pitiful remains, the broken bodies that had been Ferdi's pride, two of his best ponies of this year's crop, nearly ready for the autumn pony sale, beautifully trained and in perfect condition. Well, they had been in perfect condition. Paladin swallowed down sickness, made worse by the retching of the younger hobbits of the party, Daw's nephews, who'd had to turn aside on seeing what remained of Ferdi's ponies.

'Well?' he said gruffly, as Daw arose from his investigations.

'Killed in the fall, and not before, I deem,' Daw said.

'How...?' Paladin began.

'Just how they went over,' Daw interrupted, 'is more than I can say. No hobbles on them, so they weren't set to graze. Bits still in their mouths, saddles not loosened. If I were to make an assumption, I'd say the lads were lucky they weren't astride when the ponies went over the edge... everything points to the ponies having riders, right up to the last moment perhaps...'

'...and then they started a fire, and rolled themselves in their cloaks, and calmly went off to sleep,' Paladin said slowly, and then he shook his head. 'I don't like this,' he said. 'Not one bit, I don't.'

'Not much to like,' Daw said. 'D'you want the harness?'

'It can be cleaned and repaired,' Paladin said, 'unlike the ponies.'

Daw nodded, and directed his helpers to reclaim the bridles, saddles, and pads, then turned back with another question. 'Bury them now? Or shall I bring Ferdi out, that he may see what happened to them, and not just hear about it?'

Paladin shook his head again. 'I wouldn't want to set him back in his recovery,' he said. 'He and Tolly were still sleeping – healing, old Haldi said, and I hope it's th' truth – when we left, and I don't know when he'll waken, or what sort of shape he'll be when he does waken, and I don't like to leave the bodies rotting in the Sun in any event...'

'We'll bury 'em,' Daw said. 'But you might as well get back to your business, Dinny.' He cast an eye on the sky. 'Not too many more fine days for the haying, I'll warrant.'

'Too true,' Paladin agreed, but when he turned away to mount his pony, the Shirriff forestalled him.

'Take Dally, and Lem and Ham with you,' he said, naming his nephews. 'Empty headed youth as they may be, each one's a fair shot with the bow. The rest of us will bury the beasts and follow.'

'Fair shot...?' Paladin said, not following.

The Shirriff shook his head. 'I don't like the thought of you riding out alone, Thain,' he said, emphasizing the title and not addressing Paladin with the usual “Dinny”. 'There's odd things happening, and no mistake.'

Paladin thought of the Shirriff's pronouncement that the ponies ought to have gone over the cliff with riders on their backs, and shivered. 'Odd things, indeed,' he said.

Again he thought of his son, his cousin, and the gardener, and now he blessed the fact that they should be in Buckland by now, and well out of whatever unsettling business had descended on the Tookland. 'Well out of it,' he muttered under his breath, with a thankful nod.

'What was that, Dinny?' Daw said.

'Well said, I said,' Paladin replied. 'It's a good idea of yours. I'll take you up on your escort of archers, Daw, though I doubt they'll be needed, and thank you for your concern.'

'No thanks are due,' Daw said, 'but you're welcome all the same.'

Chapter 23. At the End of the Day

26 September, teatime and after

The afternoon light glowed golden, a fine end to a beautiful day, and promise of more good weather on the morrow. Paladin shrugged weary shoulders as he led his hobbits into the yard, trying to work their watchfulness out of the kinks in his muscles. For watchful they were, and had been since he’d thanked his small escort for their service and sent them on their way, where ever it was that Jackdaw had ordered them, once they’d discharged their duty. He did not know if they returned to their uncle, or continued homeward, only that they’d saluted him sharply, strung bows and ponies’ reins in one hand, bringing their shooting fingers to their caps and down again, only to wheel their ponies and move off at a sharp pace, almost as if they’d practiced such.

He did not know what had passed between the tweens and his crew, whilst he was listening to Nod’s report on the haying, but something must have been said, for his hobbits had not been their usual relaxed, joking selves (though as usual working hard, raking and tossing and trampling the hay, sweating under the warm sun, singing to lighten their heavy tasks). No, they’d been unusually watchful, wary, even, though whenever Paladin’s eyes would meet a watching pair, the other hobbit would look away quite casually, as if it were merely a matter of crossing glances.

He’d had the feeling they were protecting him from some threat, though they had nothing greater than their hayforks for weapons.

Ah, but it would be good when this business was completely finished and they could go back to things as they had been, before Ferdi and Tolly’s mishap.

Eglantine met him with a bright face. ‘Tea’s on!’ she carolled.

He kissed her lightly on the cheek, but stepped back from her embrace. ‘I’m not fit for the cat to drag in,’ he said. ‘Just let me wash and change, and I’ll join you.’

‘Oh, you,’ she said, hugging him anyway. ‘As if a few travel stains would harm me! You wash and change, if it’ll make you sit down to tea in more comfort, but not on my account.’

This, from the wife who scolded any who did not wipe their feet before “tracking all over the clean floor!” Still, he smiled, his first real smile in how long? – he did not know – and chucked her under the chin. ‘You’ll thank me, when we sit ourselves down, not to be smelling of sweat and effort, instead of the good baking that’s in the air.’ And he raised his face and sniffed theatrically, and his grin brightened as he recognised the smells of seedcake and freshly baked apple tart.

Outside, the hired hobbits waited in line to splash their faces and hands, one by one, and enter, with a small bow of thanks for the Mistress, but Paladin wanted rather more than a quick splash. If he hurried himself, he wouldn’t keep the others waiting, and so with another quick kiss – this one for Eglantine’s lips – he strode to the bedroom, only to find (not surprisingly) she’d anticipated him. The ewer was full of fresh, cool water, and a clean change of clothing was laid out on the bed.

Ferdi was among the hobbits around the table to bow and acknowledge his entrance.

‘Good to see you in your place once more, Ferdi,’ he said, taking his own seat, and Ferdi answered with something of his old mischief, ‘Good to be here – though I don’t know where else I’d be, on such a fine day, and apple tart for tea!’

Paladin nodded, though he suppressed a shudder that surprised him, coming from no where to trouble him. He covered this by taking up his serviette and shaking it loose from its neat folds. ‘Tolly gone?’ he said, and so help him, he was compelled to add, ‘gone on home, I take it?’ Not gone as in dead, though Pervinca’s shocked exclamation arose in his thoughts for some reason. He firmly shoved down his lingering misgivings, and memory of the grisly sight of Ferdi’s ponies, only a blink away.

For from his wife’s and daughters’ relaxed and smiling – if somewhat weary, as if troubled nights and doubled work had told on them – faces, it was safe to assume no stricken hobbit lingered in a bed elsewhere in the smial.

‘Old Haldi took him home after the nooning,’ Ferdi said. ‘Asked the loan of a pony for Tolly to ride home, denying him the pleasure of a walk in the summer sun. Naught wrong with the hobbit, but healers being what they are, one can hardly refuse them anything, lest they remember later, and stir up an extra-bitter draught for your efforts…’

‘None of your nonsense, now, lad,’ Paladin said, shot through with a sudden gladness at the opportunity to say the words.

The gladness was short-lived, however, for Ferdi’s next words were, ‘And my ponies? Did you find hide, or perhaps hair of them?’

It was too close to the truth, and Paladin had to swallow down sickness. To cover his feelings, he stirred his tea with great concentration before taking a sip, meeting Eglantine’s concerned look as he lifted his cup to his lips. ‘No business at tea,’ he said shortly. ‘We can talk about it after.’

‘Ah,’ Ferdi said, puzzled, and it seemed he expected no ill report. Nothing worse than, “We haven’t found them yet,” at least, for he filled his plate and ate heartily of the steaming steak and kidney pie, cheeses, bread and butter, pickled vegetables, and cakes, bantering back and forth with the hired hobbits and teasing Nell and Vinca with elaborate compliments on their cookery. ‘Must’ve gone to the Elves for the cakes, true fairy cakes they are…’

‘Oh, Ferdi!’ Nell said, blushing in response, and a merry tea it was, and Paladin could almost forget the unpleasantness of the day, and the unsettling feeling that hovered since they’d found the poor, pitiful remains.

Eglantine rose to light the lamps as Pimpernel freshened the teapots. The day was beginning to dim outside, and soon it would be milking time, and time to shut up the chickens, give all the ponies a thorough grooming and their evening supply of hay (those that had pulled the haywaggon as well as those Ferdi was training to sell at the autumn sales), check on the pigs and ducks and other animals, and all the little myriad details of tucking up the farm for the night’s sleep.

Oddly enough, Ferdi’s face seemed to lose colour at the same rate as the dimming sky – his cheeks were no longer rosy, nor his smile so bright, and his teacup rattled on the saucer as he put it down, empty, after his final cup. ‘So,’ he said. ‘What about my ponies? Haven’t they been found yet?’

‘I –‘ Paladin answered, unaccountably at a loss for words. It seemed as if everyone paused to hear his answer, Eglantine, Nell and Vinca in clearing the table, the hired hobbits in dabbing at their mouths and rising from their places. ‘Come into the parlour, my lad. We’ll discuss our findings there, be out from underfoot…’

But Ferdi swayed as he rose from his place, and might have fallen, had Nod not been on the spot, as it were, standing next to him, having already stood to his feet. The head worker caught the blanching hobbit, steadied him, and eased him back down. ‘But you’re not well, Ferdi,’ he said in protest. ‘Not as well as you’d like us to think, at least.’

Nell put down the teapot she held and hurried to her beloved’s side. ‘Ferdi?’ she said, frowning in concern.

‘I am well,’ Ferdi said, raising a shaking hand to his brow. ‘It’s just… I don’t understand. I was felling perfectly well just a little ago.’

‘And Haldi gone off to Tuckborough,’ Eglantine said under her breath, though it had seemed perfectly right at the time.

‘Come, let’s to your bed once more,’ Nod said, nodding to Tam on Ferdi’s other side.

‘But my ponies…’ Ferdi said, pushing at the helping hands that were trying to raise him from his seat.

Deliberately misunderstanding (though he could have no direct knowledge of Paladin’s findings, unless the young escort had told the hired hobbits, and some time following the news had been passed on to the head worker from one or more of the hirelings – which, come to think of it, would not be surprising, considering the Tooks and their propensity for the Talk), Nod answered, ‘We’ll groom the beasts and tuck them up for the night, have no worries on their account, Ferdi.’

‘You brought them back with you, then?’ Ferdi said to Paladin. ‘They’re in their stalls already? Why did you not say so earlier?’ His eyes widened, and he pushed himself to his feet, though he seemed to need the supporting hands on either side to remain upright. ‘Are they injured?’

‘You’re not well, Ferdi,’ Paladin said, in echo of Nod’s earlier statement. ‘We’ll talk about it in the morning.’

‘Talk about what?’ Ferdi demanded. ‘What’s the matter? I ought to have gone with you… I ought to have…’ He stopped in confusion, blinked a few times, and slumped in Nod’s and Tam’s grasp.

Nell gasped. ‘Ferdi!’

‘It’s but a swoon,’ Eglantine said briskly, tugging at Nod’s sleeve. ‘And no wonder, for he was up only for the first time today, after…’ and she stopped herself, before she could add such alarming words as “his deadly hurt.”

‘Yes, Nell,’ Vinca said firmly, taking a tight hold on her sister’s arm, lest Nell should show signs of fainting and hitting her head as she had earlier. ‘He’s been up some hours now. By rights he ought to have taken a nap after elevenses, as Tolly did before his father took him home, but no, he insisted on going out to see his ponies turned out into the field for the day, since Haldi told him he should do no training for a day or two, and even at that the old hobbit had to follow him out to the field to make sure he continued to heed healer’s advice…’

‘Why does that not surprise me?’ Paladin muttered, shaking his head. He raised his voice then, to direct Nod and Tam to bear Ferdi back to his bed, and Tam to sit with the hobbit there, if he wouldn’t mind watching Ferdi until bedtime, just to make sure the hobbit had not overdone himself after being so recently prostrated and ill in bed.

‘And you, Nell, stop borrowing worries,’ Eglantine said, her tone still brisk. ‘He’s well, he said so himself, and he’ll be most put out if you make yourself ill, fretting over him. Sleep is what he needs, not anxious watching!’ She watched Pimpernel narrowly as she added, ‘Now let us finish this washing up, that we may begin our preparations for eventides. And then it’ll be time to bank the fire, and wash up the few plates and mugs,’ (for eventides on the farm was a light repast, after the last of the day’s heavy chores and just before bedtime), ‘and sweep the floor, so that we’re not working into the wee hours. I can hear my pillow calling – can you?’

Nell reluctantly allowed herself to be persuaded, to Paladin’s relief. He did not want his middle daughter making herself sick with worry, sitting up hour after hour with Ferdi. The hobbit most likely was simply weary, having overdone after being ill in bed, and all he needed was to sleep himself out. He wasn’t so ill as to need watchers by the bedside. Tolly, after all, had been deemed well enough to return home, albeit on ponyback. Haldi was, no doubt, being over cautious; healers tended to one extreme or the other, either wrapping their family in cotton wool (so to speak) or neglecting them altogether, which is why they often traded favours with other healers, when family members were involved.

Ferdi is well, Paladin told himself. Of course he is. Haldi wouldn’t have let him out of the bed, if he weren’t.

But meeting Eglantine’s gaze, he saw his own doubt reflected, and quickly hidden.

‘Well, now,’ he said, matching his wife’s briskness. ‘Those cows won’t milk themselves.’ And he led his hired hobbits from the smial, and if they hovered rather close, and one or two of them stayed at his elbow as he moved about his own tasks, well, he resolved to say nothing about the matter, at least, for the time being.

When he returned to the smial, eventides were on the table. He looked in on Ferdi, lying quietly in the bed, face pale and strained. Tam shrugged. ‘Sound asleep,’ the hired hobbit said. ‘Hasn’t moved, not even to turn over.’

‘Like the rock in the garden bed,’ Paladin said lightly, though the shadows were back beneath Ferdi’s eyes. Vinca’s, He looks… dead echoed in his thoughts. Firmly he pushed them down again. ‘Healing can be a wearying business, and they were out in the cold night air for too long before we found them.’

Tam did not see fit to mention the brightly burning fire and warm cloaks that had wrapped the still figures when they’d been found. He merely nodded.

‘A good night’s sleep, and we’ll see how things look in the morning,’ Paladin said. ‘You go on and take your eventides at table, lad. I’ll bide here a bit.’

‘Yessir,’ Tam said, fingering his forelock before he turned to leave the room.

Paladin frowned, remembering the archers’ salute, but it was really nothing of consequence. He was being too sensitive, he thought. He was just a farmer, after all, not a King needing escorting, as in a book of old tales, and he’d misread the salute as a Musterish thing, rather than the customary sign of respect, to touch one’s cap in greeting or farewell.

Eglantine brought him eventides on a tray, and when she’d deposited the food, she stooped to the bed, to pull up the covers to Ferdi’s chin and tuck them securely. ‘He looks cold,’ she murmured, brushing his forehead with the back of her hand. ‘No fever,’ she said, and sighed.

‘There’s a mercy,’ Paladin said in reply, and applied himself to his food. ‘Good bread,’ he said with his mouth full. ‘Nell’s baking?’

‘Vinca’s,’ his wife answered. ‘She’s coming along in her cookery.’

They talked of inconsequential things while he ate, and then Eglantine took up the tray once more. ‘I’ll just bear this back to the kitchen, that the lasses might finish the washing up,’ she said. ‘Are you coming to bed soon?’

‘I’ll be along by and by.’

‘Do you think he still bears watching? Shall I, or one of the girls…?’

‘He’ll be well,’ Paladin said, more in wish than confidence. ‘A good night’s sleep, and…’

‘A good night’s sleep would be a fine thing, for all of us, I’m thinking,’ Eglantine said, raising her eyebrows for emphasis.

Paladin had to chuckle at that, and at the cheerful sound, Ferdi drew a deep breath and seemed to relax somewhat, some subtle tension leaving his face. Pale he was, and eyes shadowed, but his breathing was causing the bedcovers to rise and fall in a steady, perceptible manner, a reassuring sign of life that had not been so obvious only a moment ago.

‘A good night’s sleep,’ Paladin repeated. ‘Aggie,’ he said, ‘I think I’ll bide here a while yet, and I’ll waken Nod or Dobbin to take my place when middle night strikes. I don’t like to leave him by himself, somehow, in case the bad dreams return.’

‘You think bad dreams might set him back?’ Eglantine said, blinking a little at the thought. Dreams were dreams, after all, with no power to harm. Even Paladin’s dreams had only the power of foretelling, somehow, which was different from being able to do any real or present harm.

‘If they return, I want to hear what he has to say,’ Paladin said. He shook his head at himself. ‘I know there’s no sense in it,’ he said. ‘They’re only dreams, after all. Only dreams…’

Eglantine was not convinced. ‘Only dreams,’ she echoed. Neither one of them mentioned the power of Paladin’s own dreaming, but it was in their minds all the same.

‘Just be sure you do waken Nod or Dobbin,’ was all Eglantine could find to say. ‘Half a night’s sleep is better than none, and you’ve been shorting yourself…’

‘Half a night’s sleep,’ Paladin agreed, and couldn’t help a sigh. ‘A little quiet can go a long way. I’ve some thinking and considering to do, my love, and now seems like as good a time as any to do it.’

At her questioning look, he said, ‘I’ll tell you about it in the morning, if I’m able to form any conclusions on the matter.’

‘And if not?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, then, I won’t,’ he said. With finality in his tone, he added, ‘Good night.’

‘I’ll look in once more, after the washing up is finished and the fire’s banked, on my way to bed,’ Eglantine said, ‘just to see if he needs anything. A bite to eat? A cup of tea? It’ll be no trouble to stir up the fire long enough for a final pot.’

‘I doubt he’ll wake,’ Paladin said. ‘He’s sleeping like…’ he almost said one dead, but changed the thought as he spoke it, with a deliberate effort, ‘like a rock in the garden bed, one of the big ones that you can scarcely dig out of its place.’

Eglantine nodded, hardly looking reassured, as if she’d heard the unspoken words. ‘Good night, then,’ she said, a little uncertainly, and then more firmly she added, ‘Well then, I’ll look in, if only to have my good-night kiss, for I can see no good reason to pass it by.’

Paladin affected horror. ‘No good reason indeed!’ he said. ‘Never a good reason to neglect a kiss, my dear, especially one of your kisses!’

They both laughed at this, and at the sound of laughter, Ferdi sighed once more and turned over in the bed, seemingly eased by the pleasant sound.

Subtly reassured, Eglantine took herself off to finish readying the smial for the long and sleepy hours to come, until it would be time to begin the business of a new day.

Chapter 24. Pieces of a Puzzle

27 September, middle night 

As it turned out, Paladin didn’t have to waken anyone to take his place. As the dwarf-made clock in the parlour struck midnight, he looked up to see Dobbin hovering in the doorway. ‘Nob sent me,’ the hired hobbit said. ‘Said the Missus told him you’d be sitting up with Ferdi this night, just to see if he’d have anything more to say in his sleep.’ The older hobbit gave Paladin a keen-eyed look. ‘Was that a lullaby I heard you humming just now?’

‘Seems to help, somehow,’ Paladin replied with a nod. ‘He looks better, if you take my meaning, to hear something pleasant: a story, a chuckle, a song. What’s the old saying? Light talk makes for a light heart…’

‘He looked better in the light,’ Dobbin said thoughtfully. ‘Sun-light. Light talk. Light heart?’ He shook himself. ‘But that’s not getting you the sleep you need, Dinny. Tomorrow’s another day, and the hay won’t get any lighter – gets heavier, I mind, the more tired you be.’

‘You have the right of it, Dobby,’ Paladin said. ‘You bide with him a bit, and then waken Nod or Tam or…’

‘Don’t you worry about me, Dinny,’ Dobbin said. ‘Nod and me, we’ve got it all worked out, who’s to watch, and when.’

Paladin arose and took himself off to the bed, careful not to disturb his slumbering wife. As he punched up his pillow, preparatory to settling his head, and pulled up the bedcovers, he had the sudden thought that Dobbin’s words who’s to watch, and when could have more than one meaning. He thought again about the watchfulness of Daw’s three young nephews, and how his hired hobbits had taken turns hovering near him as they’d finished yesterday’s haying. He thought of his own unsettled feeling that lingered still, since seeing the bodies of Ferdi’s ponies. Somehow the sight mingled with the memory of Ferdi's and Tolly's pale faces and Vinca's he looks... dead as if they were pieces of a whole. But what whole?

He drew a deep breath and let it out again, and another, but the unsettled feeling persisted, rather like butterflies fluttering somewhere in his middle. It wasn’t something he could put his finger on. He couldn’t call it a spot of indigestion from too much spice. He could not say he was indisposed. He had no feeling that some sort of illness was threatening, “that coming down feeling” as his wife would have called it. Thus it was no physical malady, but what else could he call it?

He breathed deeply, trying to empty his thoughts of all but the most mundane matters. They’d finish the south field, he thought by the end of this day, if there were no more interruptions, even if he set a hobbit or two to harvesting vegetables in the kitchen garden. Half the carrots ought to be pulled and laid in sand, and the potatoes ought to be dug, and the winter onions, and… but Eglantine could oversee that process. He need only worry about the hay.

Soon, too, it would be time to kill the pigs they’d raised through the summer months, and smoke the hams and bacon. The nights were growing cooler, and the days would inevitably follow suit.

In going over the myriad details of readying the farm for the winter season, Paladin suddenly fell asleep.

He dreamed.

And in his dream, two vague figures arose. At first they looked to him as vapours might, one dark as smoke, the other white as steam, rising into the air, twin columns, one seeming a shadow of the other. They appeared to take on form as they rose, heads, bodies, limbs, and resolved into the figures of two warriors, as he’d seen in a book of old tales once, on a day when he was whiling away a rainy day in Bilbo’s study at Bag End, when he was only a tween.

He remembered little about the story, now, but the picture rose in his mind, clear, a warrior clad in black mail, and another in silvery mail that shone bright in the light of the sun. The two raised swords, one of light and the other shadow, and the battle began…

And Paladin sat up, abruptly awake, panting, a strong sense of foreboding resonating through his bones, the clash of the swords ringing in his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. He remained upright, his body slowly calming, his breath coming more easily at last. As his pulse steadied, his head began to clear. ‘Twas a dream,’ he whispered, and looked guiltily over at Eglantine, who (thankfully!) slumbered on. ‘Only a dream,’ he repeated.

The dream faded in the sleeping quiet of the smial, but the warning remained, along with the feeling that the dream had meant something, if only he could remember, if only he could... He had the feeling that he stood before a curtain, that he must put out his hand to draw the curtain aside, that he must face what lay beyond, for good or ill.

He lay himself back down, but sleep was far from him, and his thoughts raced. Once more he went over all that had happened since Ferdi and Tolly had left on their ill-fated hunting trip. They’d been found atop a hill that commanded a wide view of the area. Their ponies had evidently run in blind, unreasoning fear – for no intelligent beast in its sane mind would simply walk off a precipice.

Ferdi had seen a Man, or Men. Had he and Tolly been lured to the top of the hill, perhaps with ill intent? Had they been meant to fall to their deaths with the ponies? And… Paladin suddenly remembered Ferdi’s unnerving nightmare, and Tolly’s chilling response. What did this all have to do with Frodo?

He sat up and swung his legs out from under the bedcovers, stood halfway to his feet, and sat down again. It was the middle night. What was he expecting to do about anything, this time of night?

Eglantine murmured in her sleep, and then turned over with a sigh. Paladin sat very quietly, that he might not waken her, and continued his pondering.

The unsettled feeling that had haunted him since seeing the ponies’ broken bodies… the obvious unease of the Shirriff’s nephews, acting more as if they’d been Mustered than tracking down missing animals. The protectiveness that his hired hobbits had shown… Surely he was simply feeling a natural reaction to the other hobbits’ attitude.

Then why did thinking through the issues not make him feel any better about matters?

He gave a firm nod to himself. First thing on the morrow, he’d send Tam into Whitwell, to engage a Quick Post rider, to take a message to Frodo at Crickhollow. Just what message, he wasn’t sure.

Chapter 25. As if Nothing Had Happened

27 September, First Breakfast to Second Breakfast

‘Four o’ the clock,’ Paladin whispered to himself, hearing the chiming of the dwarf-made clock in the parlour. The smial was drowned in silence, the dark as deep as if it were not the time to arise for the milking, the start of a long day of the work that made up a farmer’s routine. He suppressed a groan as he sat up, careful not to disturb Eglantine. He’d give her a few more winks, he would, if he could.

He rose without jostling the bed and went to the kitchen, to get the fire going well and start the teakettle warming. Next it was time to wind the dwarf-made clock, faithful old friend. Then back to the kitchen, to look out on the day. A low mist shrouded the land, but when he looked straight up, he could see the cold light of the stars, staring back at him in silent warning.

…and why should he think that? Why should he think of warning? He shook himself in an effort to dismiss such nonsense. Honestly, he was turning into an old biddy of a worry-hen. Next thing you know, he’d be cackling in alarm. Hah!

He went next to Pippin’s room, for Ferdi was still in the bed there, closer to the kitchen and the heart of the smial than his own room would be. It had also been less distance to carry the hobbit, after he swooned.

He found another hired hobbit, Haldi, curled on the extra bed with a light blanket thrown over him. The watcher’s eyes opened at once at Paladin’s soft step, however, and he sat up. ‘He hasn’t said a word, Dinny, not since I’ve been here.’

‘How would you know?’ Paladin said.

Haldi sniffed. ‘I’m a light sleeper,’ he said. ‘Believe me, I’d’ve heard, if he’d made a sound.’

Paladin nodded, not quite satisfied, though it was true – that time a fox had crept in amongst the chickens, when a board was loose, Haldi had been the one to hear the commotion and raise the alarm, even though he was one of many in the hired hobbits’ room, amidst a certain amount of snoring. He moved closer to Ferdi, to scrutinise the sleeping hobbit’s face. Still pale, he thought. He touched the forehead lightly with the back of his hand. Neither cold, nor fevered.

Ferdi stirred under his touch, moaned a little, sighed, and was suddenly awake. ‘Yes?’ he said, blinking sleepily. ‘You wanted something?’

‘You sound like yourself,’ Paladin said, without thinking.

A puzzled look crossed Ferdi’s face. ‘Well I’d like to know who else I’d sound like, and in the middle night if I’m any judge…?’

‘Four o’ the clock,’ Paladin corrected. ‘Teakettle’s on, and we’re about to start the milking.’

‘Why didn’t you say so?’ Ferdi said, thrusting away the bedcovers and sitting up. He blinked again, looking around in astonishment. ‘What am I doing here?’

Paladin was alarmed all over again. ‘You don’t know?’ he said. ‘You don’t know where you are?’

Ferdi gave a snort of exasperation. ‘What’s got into you, Dinny? O’ course I know where I am! In Pip’s room! But why?’

‘It was closer to the kitchen,’ Paladin said, subtly reassured. He cocked an ear. ‘Kettle’s whistling,’ he said, and left to deal with that matter.

‘Closer to the kitchen?’ Ferdi said, turning to Haldi.

That hobbit merely shrugged, as if to say, Nobody consulted me on the matter!, muttered something about seeing Ferdi at early breakfast, and made his escape.

‘Closer to the kitchen?’ Ferdi muttered to himself, and shook his head. What madness was this? He didn’t remember taking himself off to bed, but he couldn’t imagine someone moving him from his own bed to Pip’s as a prank. It seemed like much too much trouble. Unless… they were expecting Pip home in the night, and meant to surprise the tween with finding his bed occupied, as if to say, This is what happens when you tarry too long from home…!

He found his clothing draped over a chair, and quickly dressed. One good thing about being closer to the kitchen, he decided, was that it made for less of a walk to claim his early morning cup.

He laughed and joked with the hired hobbits gathered there, turned with the rest to greet Eglantine’s advent, as she hurried into the room, dressed but disheveled in her hurry. ‘Why,’ she said to Paladin. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

‘No need,’ Paladin said. ‘I thought I’d let you and the girls sleep a little longer, this morning, what with all the odd hours we’ve been keeping…’

Ferdi wondered what he might be talking about, but as his mouth was full of bread and jam he said nothing.

‘We’ll milk the cows,’ Paladin went on. ‘When they arise, they can gather the eggs and help you put second breakfast on the table.’

The dwarf-made clock chimed the half-hour, and Paladin arose from the table, draining his mug. ‘Half-past! The cows will be wondering why we’re so belated,’ he said. ‘Come along, lads, let’s look lively. Let’s get those mums milked and the pans set out for the cream to rise. Butter-making today, isn’t it?’

Eglantine nodded. What with the cream from last night, still keeping cold in the night’s chill, and today, they’d be making butter and packing it away in crocks, under salt, to preserve it for the winter months. ‘Cheese-making, as well,’ she said. ‘The cows are giving plenty of milk at present, and the cool weather will help it all to keep.’

Paladin nodded, washed his hands, and went out, followed by the hired hobbits.

Ferdi finished his tea and arose from the table. ‘Those ponies won’t curry themselves,’ he said. ‘Tell Nell I’ll look forward to seeing her at breakfast.’

‘Ferdi? Are you feeling quite well?’ Eglantine said.

He shot her a puzzled look. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he said.

She was at a loss to explain.

He shrugged, shook his head, and muttered something under his breath, that might have been, What is the matter with everyone this morning? But then he flashed Eglantine a brilliant smile, bowed grandly, and said, ‘I thank you for the delicious tea, Mistress!’ (and behind his hand he muttered, ‘E’en though I deem the Master made it!’), and taking his hand down again added, ‘and the bread-and-butter were superb! A lighter loaf could not be made, no, not even by the Elves, I warrant! My Nell’s a rare baker, she is…’ And with another grin, he was gone.

Eglantine sat down with a whoosh of breath. Ferdi certainly seemed to be back to himself, not even letting her get a word in edgewise, and off with a whistle to attend to his ponies’ early morning ablutions.

‘It was Pervinca’s baking,’ she murmured after him, though of course he wouldn’t hear.

It wasn’t long before her daughters emerged into the kitchen, blinking.

‘Go and gather the eggs, Nell,’ Eglantine said. ‘Vinca, stop here – we’ll chop potatoes and onions and put them on to fry – milking’s already done, or soon will be…’

‘Already done!’ Pervinca gasped, but at the same time Nell was asking after Ferdibrand.

‘He’s seeing to his ponies,’ Eglantine said with a smile. ‘Seems to be back to himself, as if nothing happened at all…’

Ferdi wasn’t quite “back to himself”, however. He had curried three of the ponies he was training for the autumn pony market.

(This event would take place during the harvest festival, when the farmers’ heaviest tasks would be complete and they would have some extra time for celebration. There would be plenty of food for feasting, new wine and ale for drinking, and a large market where a hobbit might buy just about anything at all needed to get through the winter. A large livestock sale took place, as well, buying and selling beasts. Ferdi’s ponies would be in great demand, beautifully trained as they were, and the competition would drive the prices higher than if he simply set a price for selling. He could quite easily keep a wife and family on the proceeds of the spring and autumn pony sales, as well as private commissions from hobbits who hired him to deal with their problem ponies.)

Now coming to the fourth stall that he leased from Paladin, and finding it empty, he scratched his head. ‘Strange, that,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember turning Tuppence out last night…’

And finding the next stall empty, he shrugged. ‘I must have done,’ he said to himself. He wouldn’t turn a pony out by itself, mind, but two or more – he might, if they’d been showing signs of restlessness, and he hadn’t time to work them properly, especially if the nights were mild and fine. He thought the nights were fine – the temperature had been mild when he’d left the smial, a bit misty perhaps, but the stars shone above and the air had a soft feel, that portended a warm day to come. Well, he'd fetch them after second breakfast, give them a quick brushing and then set to work, polishing their paces.

He came to the last of the half-dozen ponies in his current “batch of beauties” and soon was done with his early morning chores – currying and brushing, picking out feet, cleaning the soiled straw bedding and replacing it with fresh, supplying hay and oats and filling the water bucket.

‘There, my beauty!’ he said, stroking the shining neck of the last pony as she munched contentedly on her oats. ‘You finish your breakfast, and I’ll finish mine, and then we’ll go through your paces. It looks to be a fine day! …How would you like to spend the day in the field, kicking up your heels, Beauty?’

She snorted, and it might have been an answer or it might have been merely a snort, for she was quite occupied with the oats, but Ferdi laughed anyhow, gave her a final pat, and let himself out of her stall.

He was the last to enter the kitchen, after splashing water on his face and hands, and good smells greeted him.

‘Well now!’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘This is fine! Fried bacon, and potatoes and onions, and if I don’t miss my guess, fresh-baked currant buns into the bargain!’

‘You don’t miss your guess,’ Eglantine said.

Ferdi grinned and took his place at table, watching Eglantine and her daughters bustle about to put the last few touches on the meal.

‘How are you feeling today, Ferdi?’ Nod beside him wanted to know, and oddly enough several of the hired hobbits paused in their conversations to hear his answer.

‘I’m well!’ Ferdi said. ‘Never better!’

‘Well now, that’s good to hear,’ old Dobbin said from across the table, exchanging a significant glance with Nod, which Ferdi missed, as he was buttering his bread.

And the talk at table was as it always was, about the everyday things of life. The hired hobbits thought Paladin must have told Ferdi about his ponies, and Paladin thought perhaps Nod had taken on the task, for Ferdi did not ask about the beasts. He was taking the news very bravely, it seemed, applying himself to his plate and joining in the general conversation about the tasks of the day to come, and when Pip might be expected home, and prognostications for the harvest that they were in the midst of gathering. Of course there’d be time for discussion later – the loss of two ponies, out of the six he was preparing for market, would be a blow, and he might want to hire some of his time to Paladin or a neighbour, to make up for his loss of income.

But, Paladin reminded himself, a fine-spread table is not the right place to discuss business.

He nodded thanks to Eglantine as she refilled his tea, and gave the delicious food all the attention it deserved.

Matters of business could come later.

***

A/N: I found information on preserving butter to go through the winter months here: http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext05/cookh10h.htm What fun!

Chapter 26. Offer of Aid

27 September, after second breakfast

As Pervinca was crossing the kitchen with a freshly filled teapot, she glanced out the window and sang, ‘Visitors!’

‘Visitors!’ Eglantine echoed, rising from her place. ‘How many?’

‘Some three,’ came the answer. ‘All on pony-back – looks like the Shirriff, but I don’t know who the other two might be. And they’re leading a pack-pony.’

‘We’ll set three more places then. Nell?’

And that lass jumped up from her place, and quickly laid three more places at table.

‘Nod,’ Paladin said. ‘See to the ponies…’

‘Aye,’ the head hobbit said, laying down his cup and getting up.

‘Ferdi,’ Paladin said next. ‘Is it well with you?’

‘Why does everyone keep asking me that?’ Ferdi said to the air. ‘I’m well! Never better!’

‘That’s good, for I deem the Shirrriff brings with him news that is not so good,’ Paladin said, and he rose from his place and threw down his serviette. ‘Come with me to the yard, lad, and we’ll see what is what.’

Clearly puzzled, Ferdi complied.

Paladin turned at the door to tell the others not to interrupt their meal, but to finish, for there was a full day’s work ahead, and it wouldn’t do to begin with only half a meal to go on.

Eglantine had been hovering, ready to join him in the yard, but at this explicit instruction she sat down instead. ‘Dobby? May I freshen your tea?’ Still, she craned to see out the nearest window, what transpired in the yard.

Paladin and Ferdi joined the arriving hobbits. Shirriff Daw slid down from his saddle, seeming weary – an odd thing, this early in the morning! The others remained in their saddles, waiting. Paladin, Daw and Ferdi walked back to the pack-pony. Daw, talking, lifted the edge of a tarpaulin that covered the pony’s load. Ferdi reeled, and was supported by Paladin. Daw dropped the cover and turned to take Ferdi’s other arm.

There was more talk, amongst the three hobbits, and then Ferdi shook away the supporting hands and stood straight. Eglantine could see his lips form the words, I am well. Indeed, I am. Paladin urged him towards the smial, along with Daw. One of the mounted hobbits got down from the saddle and, together with Nod, lifted the burden from the pack-pony and carried it towards the barn. A bulky burden it was, too, as big as two saddles, Eglantine thought with a chill, along with blankets and bridles.

‘We cleaned it all well,’ Daw was saying as they entered the smial. ‘It took some scrubbing, but you’ll find it all almost as new… It was the least we could do, Ferdi, and that sorry I am…’

‘The both of them?’ Ferdi said, as if he couldn’t quite take it in. ‘Both… dead?’

‘Run wild, evidently,’ Daw said. ‘From all the marks we found, they were in a panic of some kind or other. Do you really not remember how you came to be on the top of that hill?’

Ferdi shook his head in bewilderment. ‘I honestly do not,’ he said. ‘And now – you tell me the ponies were not atop that hill? We climbed on our own two legs, is that what you’re saying?’

Daw shook his head, exchanging glances with Paladin. ‘I think you rode up the hill,’ he said. ‘Somehow, at the top, you and your ponies parted company. Did they spook at something, I wonder? Ponies can take fright at the simplest thing… blowing leaves…’

‘There were no trees atop that hill,’ Paladin said.

‘A bird of prey,’ Daw said. ‘An owl that flew into their faces, perhaps.’

‘I’ve never known an owl to do such,’ Ferdi said.

‘But it might have been,’ Daw said stubbornly. ‘And if the two of you were thrown, as your ponies ran away,’ he continued, feeling his way, ‘to their doom, well, you might’ve made a fire and rolled up in your cloaks…’

‘Had I been thrown, I should be stiff and sore,’ Ferdi said. ‘Had I hit my head, and needed to lie myself down, would my head not be aching still? No, Daw, there’s more to this than we know.’

Paladin met Eglantine's eyes and nodded slightly. Ferdi had the right of it, though of course, he couldn't know how suited his sentiments were, not yet, anyhow, and perhaps not for some days. The old healer had urged caution in acquainting Ferdi and Tolly with all the events of the past few days, at least until they were fully back to themselves, with their energies completely restored. So long as Ferdi showed any signs of lingering weakness, as he had just now in the yard, they would protect him, so far as they could.

Ferdi shook his head and sighed. ‘Two fine ponies, gone in one night. They were nearly ready for the sale… It’s a hard blow.’

‘I’m that sorry, Ferdi,’ Daw said again.

‘Well, it cannot be undone,’ Ferdi said, ‘and I thank you for saving the harness, at least. Though I might never be able to use it again without a quiver. Perhaps I’ll sell the gear and buy some new.’

‘That might be a good idea,’ Paladin said. ‘Some memories are not worth the keeping.’

‘I wish I had some memories for the keeping,’ Ferdi said under his breath, but as he was passing behind Eglantine at the moment, on his way to his place at table, she heard him clearly. ‘I wish I knew what had happened…’

‘Will you and your hobbits not join us, Daw?’ Paladin said. ‘Just have them tie up the ponies, and have a cup of tea and a bite to sustain you?’

‘Thank you, kindly, Dinny,’ Daw said, and he turned to the door and hailed his companions. Soon Nod and the other two (Daw’s brother Snipe and uncle Griffo, as it turned out) entered, and sat themselves down.

By unspoken consent, the hobbits at table turned the conversation to mundane matters, such as how much hay was left in the fields, and when the weather would change and the autumn rains would come down.

‘Not soon, I hope!’ Paladin said fervently. ‘We still have another field of hay to get in, and the taters and carrots and apples and pears – and then there’s Pip!’

‘Young Pip?’ Snipe asked. ‘What about Pip?’

‘He’ll be walking back from Buckland any day now,’ Paladin said. ‘And that reminds me, Daw, if you could take a Quick Post message with you when you go, and deliver it to the Post in Whitwell, and have them send it on…?’

‘A Quick Post message to Pip?’ Griffo said with a laugh. ‘To speed him home? What is he, off gallivanting with some cousin or other?’ He had missed the reference to Buckland, having been in conversation with the hired hobbit sitting beside him, speculating about the arrangements for the upcoming harvest feast in Whitwell, and whether Mayor Will would come to preside over the festivities.

‘Something to that effect,’ Paladin said, not wanting to go into details. He was not one to fan the flames of the Talk. He didn’t need Tooks and Tooklanders taking alarm and shooting at shadows.

And so, when Daw and the others left, the Shirriff bore a sealed message addressed to “Frodo Baggins at Crickhollow, Buckland” that read, in part:

I do not know what to make of these events, but the fact that the two stricken hobbits shared the same night terror is of concern, and that they both worried over your safety, and the fact that “someone” might be after you.

In any event, should you feel as if your safety is not assured there in your new home, Crickhollow, in the wilds of Buckland, I would like to renew my offer of a place here on the farm, deep in the Tookland and well away from the Bounds where Outlanders are found in ever greater numbers. My hobbits and their stout bows would stand between you and any rogue Man who might have ill intent…

***

A/N Can anyone tell me how to increase the text size inside a blockquote?

Chapter  27. Special Delivery

28 September, midday, Crickhollow in Buckland

The rapping at the door sounded hobbity, at least, though Freddy was not really expecting any visitors. He’d visited Brandy Hall to pay Frodo’s respects, and beg off a tea invitation until next week or the week after, and to ask the Master’s permission for Merry to stay at Crickhollow to help his cousin settle in, for “a great deal remains to be done, and we want to make it just as homelike as we can, don’t you know?”

Of course the Master and Mistress had been most accommodating. Whether they believed (or not) that Frodo had come to the end of his money, they were happy to have him back in Buckland, living close by, in part for Merry’s sake. After all, now that Merry had come of age, it would be less easy for him to get away to see his beloved older cousin. Having Frodo practically on the spot was a most convenient turn of events.

‘Yes, of course!’ Esmeralda said with a laugh, pressing another  piece of cake on Freddy. ‘But you tell that rascal Frodo he must come to tea without fail on Monday a week! Or I shall come out to Crickhollow myself and fetch him!’

‘Perhaps it will be enough if Merry and Pip and I all join forces to drag him to the Hall,’ Freddy said, hiding his unease behind a bland tone and sip of tea. He wondered to himself how he’d manage to put Master and Mistress off – a fever? It had to be something serious enough to win a further postponement, but not serious enough for them to send a healer to the door. ‘But – I really do think it will take us two weeks to fix the place up to Frodo’s satisfaction… How about if we set the date for Monday-a-fortnight instead, and have you and the Master come to tea at Crickhollow? You can use the occasion to send me off home to Budge Hall in grand style…!’ And he smiled his most wicked smile, and winked, and was well rewarded by Master and Mistress’s laughter.

‘I’ll send you off, indeed, young hobbit!’ Esmeralda said in a mock-threatening tone, waving a loosely curled fist in his direction. ‘Don’t you dare go back to Crickhollow until I’ve filled a basket in the kitchen with good things…! With you all working your fingers to the bone, fixing up that old house to at least resemble Bag End (so much as it might – but Bag End was built by a hobbit with a great deal of sense and love for his wife and her comfort, and not a little money), well, I’ve no doubt you’re not getting meals as you ought…’

Freddy did not disabuse her. ‘I’ll be happy to carry any number of hampers back with me, Auntie,’ he said. And he would. He’d ridden his pony from Crickhollow to the Hall, and would ride it back again, or even lead it back again, for it would be worth the walk if the pony were well-laden with food. Freddy anticipated good eating, if the Mistress planned to send enough food to sustain the number of hobbits she believed to be inhabiting Crickhollow at the present time.

It was one compensation for the tedium of being left behind, to play as if Frodo was in residence at Crickhollow.

…which he was not accomplishing as he ought, he realised, as the rapping came again, with an indistinguishable shout, definitely a hobbit’s voice and not a Man’s.

‘Coming!’ Freddy called, moving to the door. He scolded himself for his hesitation. After all, even if a Big Man, a Rider all in black, had been after Frodo, well, Freddy certainly had no reason to fear. Did he?

He pulled the door open, to see a hobbit standing there, a folded paper in one hand, and a pony behind him, tied up to the garden gate. ‘Quick Post!’ that hobbit announced.

‘Yes?’ Freddy said, reaching for the message, but the messenger pulled it back.

‘It’s for Frodo Baggins,’ he said. ‘I was to try at Crickhollow, and if he wasn’t at home, then at the Hall.’

Freddy, who happened to be wearing Frodo’s clothes, didn’t recognise the messenger, and gambled now that the hobbit didn’t know himself, or Frodo, either. ‘Well you’ve found him at home,’ he said, extending his hand further. ‘Do be a good fellow and give me the note.’ The messenger could take him for Frodo, or he might insist on giving the message personally to Frodo (if he knew that Freddy wasn’t Frodo, that would mean he knew Frodo by sight, at least). Freddy’s phrasing could be taken either way, that he was answering the door for his cousin, or that he was Frodo Baggins, as he was pretending to be. If the message were specifically for Frodo, and the messenger knew that he was not Frodo, things might get a little sticky. The Quick Post rider would insist on putting it directly into Frodo’s hands, and would not accept Freddy’s promise to pass it along.

‘I’m to take back an answer,’ the messenger said, putting the paper into Freddy’s hand, confirming the latter’s suspicion.

‘Very well,’ Freddy said in his most pleasant, offhanded tone, as if the message were expected.

Well, it was, in a sense. He was playing this role for this very reason – to intercept and reply to messages, to putter about in the garden, impersonating his cousin Frodo, to keep a fire going on the hearth so that smoke would issue from the chimney, and more such. ‘Wait here a moment, my good fellow.’

The Quick Post rider nodded and smiled as Freddy turned from the door, leaving it ajar but not inviting the fellow in.

Freddy turned the letter over, seeing Paladin’s seal. Now that might be a complication – if something had happened at Whittacres, Eglantine or one of the girls had fallen ill, perhaps, and Paladin was calling his son home immediately. He took a deep breath, broke the seal, and unfolded the paper.

His eyebrows rose as he scanned down the page. ‘Well now,’ he said. ‘That’s old news, at least. We knew those Big, Black fellows were sniffing after Frodo, but that they’ve been bold enough to bother the Tooks in the heart of the Tookland! They’ve got the nerve!’

Having not yet experienced the effect of a Black Rider himself, he could dismiss any unease he might feel regarding the Black Rider as superstitious rubbish.

He’d been practicing various hobbits’ penmanship for some time now, in preparation for this part in the conspiracy; notably Frodo’s, Merry’s, and even young Pip’s. The practice came in handy now as he dashed off an answer (I thank you, Cousin, for your concern…) in Frodo’s best hand. He expressed his astonishment at such unlikely events in the heart of the Shire and added his hopes for the quick recovery of the two hobbits. He sucked on the end of the pen for a moment as he concocted a satisfactory conclusion, then at last he nodded and wrote, I will give your warning, and your offer, due consideration, and will inform the Master of your concerns as well – of course he would not, but Paladin wouldn’t know that – and if he advises me to return to the heart of the Shire, then I will most gratefully accept your offer, at least until I can make other arrangements. I doubt, however, and here Freddy bit his lip. He didn’t like writing outright falsehood, but he could see no other course, that there is any real danger. I cannot imagine why any of the Big People should be concerned with someone so wholly unimportant as… your loving cousin, Frodo.

He blotted the paper with a sigh, then folded it, making sure that he sealed it with Frodo’s seal (and not Merry’s – that would certainly give the game away!). As soon as the wax hardened, he rose from the desk and returned to the door, fishing in one pocket for a coin.

‘Here you are,’ he said, extending coin and message to the waiting Quick Post rider. ‘Give my cousin my best when you deliver this, will you?’

‘I will!’ the rider said, cheerily, for the coin was of a generous amount.

Freddy watched him stride to the gate, vault into the saddle, turn his pony’s head away, and head off at a brisk trot.

‘There’s a job well done,’ he said with a sigh, closing the door again, and if Freddy was talking about himself, or about the Quick Post rider, well, even he wasn’t sure.

Chapter  28. Word from Buckland

29 September, not long before teatime, Whittacres

‘Quick Post, Mum, coming up the lane!’ Pervinca called. ‘P’rhaps it’s from Buckland!’

‘Let’s hope it’s from Buckland!’ Eglantine said. ‘He was supposed to deliver the message into the hands of Frodo himself, wait for a reply, and bring it back directly. Your father paid him extra, just to do that!’

‘Then it’s a good thing he found cousin Frodo at home!’ Pimpernel said with a laugh. ‘Who knows how long we might wait for an answer, if he took it into his head to go a-wandering!’

‘Not with our Pip, he won’t,’ Eglantine said stoutly, shaking a finger to emphasise her words. ‘Not if he knows what’s best for him.’ The pork pies were sending out a wondrous aroma, and opening the oven, she smiled to see the glistening golden crusts, the steam rising from the holes, the bubbling around the edges that promised toothsome eating to come. ‘Well now, Nell, the pies are ready to come out of the oven…’

‘Yes’m,’ Pimpernel said, taking up two thick, folded clothes to help her with the hot pies and moving to the oven. Eglantine went to the door to the yard and threw it open, taking in a lungful of the fresh autumnal air. ‘I think we’ll prop this open to let some of the baking heat out,’ she said. ‘Just smell that air!’

Of course, what the Quick Post rider noticed was the promising smell of the pies. He sniffed appreciatively as he pulled up his pony and greeted the waiting Eglantine. ‘Halloo!’ he said. ‘I bring greetings from your cousin Frodo!’

‘Welcome and Well come, Egbert!’ Eglantine said in reply. ‘Would you care to stop for tea before you ride on?’ She didn’t have to ask him if he were free to stop, for Egbert was a conscientious hobbit and would have refused any other commissions until he’d finished the one Paladin had paid him for.

‘That sounds a treat!’ the rider said, and laughed. ‘Or maybe I ought to say it smells a treat!’

Eglantine gave a laugh of her own, and then directed him to tie his pony in the shade, unless the beast needed cooling out. ‘Ferdi’s working with one of his ponies around here somewhere, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind cooling the beast out for you…’

‘We walked the last stretch,’ Egbert said. ‘As a matter of fact, your good cousin told me there was no hurry, to bring his reply back to you all – he didn’t seem as concerned about the delivery of his news, as Paladin had about his own – and so I did not push my pony very hard on the return. I do hope Master Paladin won’t be put out.’

‘How did you find Frodo? Were they all working hard to put the new house in order?’ Eglantine asked.

‘The house looked to be in good order, from the little I saw,’ Egbert said, wrinkling his forehead. ‘And “they all”? Mr Baggins answered the door himself, and he was the only one I saw. It was midday, and I didn’t smell any food cooking, and he didn’t invite me in to take a bite, and he seemed in something of a hurry, so…’

‘Perhaps they were invited to take their midday meal at the Hall,’ Pervinca said.

Eglantine smiled, ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘That’s very likely! I can see Dinny’s sister fretting about the lot of them not keeping to regular meals whilst they’re working, and insisting on taking at least one meal at the Hall each day. And why not the main meal, at midday, to make sure they’ve enough to go on, for the rest of the day?’

‘Well, the Hall is said to set a fine table,’ Egbert agreed. ‘Though I wouldn’t know, as I turned around and came straight back, with only a couple of stops for hot meals, and of course I had to stop for the night when the darkness came down. No use riding in the dark, unless the message is truly an urgent one…!’

‘Nothing could be that urgent, I hope!’ Eglantine said. ‘But come in! Dinny ought to be in from the fields at any moment, and then we’ll sit down to tea. Please, feel free to splash your face and hands, and then come, sit down and I’ll pour you a cup of tea while you wait.’

Egbert gladly complied, and once he’d had a sip of tea, he said to the others, who were bustling about the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal, ‘But you asked me about your cousin Frodo, and how I found him. He seemed very cheerful and relaxed – asked me to wait at the door while he wrote a reply, and said to give you all his best when he handed me the message to bring back.’ He fumbled inside his jacket. ‘Do you want it now?’

‘No, no, we’ll wait for Dinny,’ Eglantine said, even though she was curious to hear what Frodo might make of the odd occurrences of late, and Ferdi’s nightmare. Perhaps he’d simply dismiss it as that – a nightmare. At the very least, she hoped he’d send word of how the work on the house was progressing, and when Pip would be on his way homeward. But then, the news would keep. Even if she were to open the message and read it herself, doing so would not bring her Pip home any sooner.

The haymakers were heard in the yard, then, and soon Egbert was rising to greet Paladin and his workers as they entered after washing their hands and faces. He pulled the message from an inside pocket and extended it to the farmer. ‘Here you are, sir,’ he said. ‘Reply, as requested.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you, Egbert, that you don’t have to “sir” me,’ Paladin said with a smile, taking the message. ‘Every time you say the word “sir” I find myself looking around for old Ferumbras!’

May his dreams be pleasant ones, Eglantine thought to herself. It was true for herself, as well. Dinny had only been Thain for about three years, and it was easy to forget that he had anything to do with the office, except for the occasional visits paid by Reginard (or his father) to talk about family business, planting and harvest, details of festivals and fairs like the annual archery tournament and the pony races and sales, and keeping the roads in repair.

Paladin took the letter and laid it by his place. ‘That meal smells good enough to eat!’ he said. ‘Far be it from me to keep my hobbits waiting, after all the work they’ve done this day! And yourself, Egbert, after riding halfway around the world and back again!’ (Halfway around the Shire, that is, which was, to most of the Shirefolk, practically the same thing.)

Egbert bowed, to thank Paladin and Eglantine for their hospitality, and sat down with a glad heart. The board was practically groaning with good food: the aforementioned pork pies, and vegetables both pickled and fresh from the garden, and hard-cooked eggs, devilled with minced ham, and baked apples drizzled with cinnamon-infused honey and drowned in fresh, thick cream.

When Paladin saw that the feasters were beginning on their second helpings, he wiped his mouth and hands and took up Frodo’s letter, breaking the seal and withdrawing a single sheet. ‘Not much for words, for once,’ he said.

Egbert cleared his throat apologetically. ‘Well, he was in something of a hurry to dash off a reply,’ he said. ‘He didn’t explain his haste, and it wasn’t my place to ask, but…’

‘Most likely he was expected at the Hall for dinner,’ Eglantine said. ‘The others must’ve gone on ahead of him, for they were not at the house when Egbert knocked, or at least he didn’t see them.’

‘I was hoping you might bring back word of my son,’ Paladin said, ‘and whether tramping halfway across the Shire had agreed with him, and if he was enough recovered yet to tramp back again, or if I ought to send you there with an extra pony, to bring him back home.’

‘I would be happy to do that!’ Egbert said, and he would, for Paladin would pay generously for such a favour.

‘As it happens, Frodo sends no word here,’ Paladin said, looking down at the page once more.

‘No word?’ Eglantine said, puzzled.

‘No word of any of them or their labours,’ Paladin said slowly. ‘Simply a reply, as requested.’ He shook his head. ‘While I appreciate the lad not wanting to arrive at the Master’s table belated, I have to say it’s not like him to write so short, and to the point. At the very least he ought to have mentioned our lad, sent his regards, if not those of the others.’

‘D’you think something’s wrong? Has something happened to Pippin?’ Eglantine said, jumping at once to the matter closest to her heart.

‘No… no,’ Paladin said in his most soothing tones, holding up a staying hand. ‘Of course not… if Pip had been injured along the way, Frodo wouldn’t even be to Crickhollow yet, much less on his way to the Hall for dinner.’ He looked to Egbert. ‘He seemed calm and cheerful?’

‘Completely!’ the Quick Post rider answered, somewhat mystified by the question.

‘Well then,’ Ferdi said, for he’d been following the conversation with interest. ‘We know that Pip hasn’t got himself into difficulties, at least.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘ Or perhaps he has, and Frodo did not know quite how to phrase it in his note to you…?’

‘None of your nonsense, lad!’ Paladin said, but the hired hobbits were all hiding smiles.

‘From what Regi said the other day, the mischief at Bag End was all Folco’s doing,’ Eglantine reminded.

Egbert laughed as he remembered the story, and the rest of them joined in, imagining Frodo’s helpers turning the smial upside down.

‘Well, we’ll leave our lad there a few days longer,’ Paladin said, folding the note again. ‘But if we don’t hear real news by the time we finish the southwest field, I might very well go and fetch him myself!’

‘Be sure and bring me along with you,’ Eglantine said dryly. ‘I hear they set a fine table there at Brandy Hall!’

***

Crickhollow, in Buckland

Freddy opened the front door cautiously and peered out, for perhaps the tenth time since midday. The silence in the house, which hadn’t bothered him before this day, grew ever more oppressive. A feeling of fear had been growing on him since he’d awakened. He’d cooked himself breakfast, but pushed the plate away after only eating the half. He’d had no appetite for the midday meal, and though it had been his custom to putter in the garden after the noontide meal, this day he could not bring himself to leave the house, but stayed tight indoors.

Nothing moved in the garden or in the lane beyond. His gaze swept from one side to the other. There was nothing to give him this uncertain feeling. Uncertain was a mild term for what he was feeling… Why, there weren’t even alarm calls from any birds. There was no birdsong at all.

He thought now of going to the Hall for tea, perhaps asking to stay the night, make some excuse – the others had gone on a walking tour of Buckland, and he hadn’t cared to take so much exercise, but then as the day progressed he’d grown lonely…

…and he was lonely, in this lonely, isolated house, with no near neighbour. For the first time he questioned Frodo’s wisdom in choosing this particular house.

He put his hand on the knob again, opened the door slowly and cautiously, looked out… and closed the door again, without going out. He raised a shaking hand to wipe at his brow. What in the world was the matter with him?

He couldn’t bring himself to set foot outside the door. He had the same feeling he’d had as a small child, waking from a nightmare, fearing that something was hiding in the shadows under his bed. As long as he stayed tight under his bedcovers, he’d believed, nothing could get at him and he’d stay safe.

As long as he stayed tight inside the house…

‘A spot of tea,’ he said to himself. ‘That’ll be just the thing to set me right.’ He nodded and turned from the door, then turned back to fasten the lock. He didn’t want to walk away and leave the door unlocked. It seemed imprudent, somehow.

He put the kettle on, wandering restlessly around the kitchen as he waited for it to boil, adjusting the cups on the rack, pulling out cup, saucer and spoon, finding a spot on the spoon and polishing it, putting the spoon down and looking through the rest of the spoons for spots. At last the kettle boiled, and he lifted it off the hob and poured the water into the pot to warm it, emptied it to put in the tea, and then some sudden impulse drove him to the back door, to check the lock there, and when he returned, of course, the water in the teakettle had cooled appreciably.

He put the kettle back on the fire and sank into a chair, holding his head in his hands. What was the matter with him? Was he losing his wits?

***

A/N: Some turns of phrase taken from “A Knife in the Dark” in Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Chapter 29. Early Morning Alarm

30 September, early morning, Diggenhollow, Buckland

Though Merimac Brandybuck affected disdain and disgust for his wife’s small dog, it was an open secret that he was actually quite fond of the little fellow. It was not uncommon for one or another of his family to catch him in the act of quietly, clandestinely petting the winsome creature, and of course they loved to tell the story of the pork pie that went missing from the pantry… and it turned out that Merimac had fed it “to the little fellow, for he looked so hungry…” and the large slice of roast meat that “slipped” and flew across the room from Merimac’s plate on the table to the far corner of the room where the dog was obediently lying during dinnertime.

The dog was not allowed to sleep on the bed with Merimac and his wife, Prisca – at least, not until after Merimac fell asleep, and most days he was not even aware of the dog’s presence, for the little fellow jumped down when the hobbits began to stir. Merimac and Prisca’s feet were never cold in the winter nights, even after the bedwarmers had lost their glow!

Though Merimac growled at the dog oftener than he praised him, and the dog mostly paid him no mind when other family members were around (ah, but when they were alone, he might be found lying next to the hobbit with his head in Merimac’s lap!), and called him a nuisance and a bother with his tendency to bark in loud, shrill yaps, he was secretly glad of the dog’s vigilance, especially as they lived quite close to the Old Forest, though not quite so close as Crickhollow, being a little more than a mile closer to Brandy Hall and the Brandywine River than Frodo's new abode. He felt better for leaving the dog behind to guard his wife, when he went off to Brandy Hall to consult with his brother, the Master, or to the various points in Buckland where he was currently overseeing diggings and construction projects. He knew the little fellow would fight to the death to protect Prisca and their children. He felt much the same himself, which gave them a common ground of understanding.

It was one thing for the dog to launch himself at the door, barking and jumping up to see out of the round window at hobbits’-eye-view, during the daytime, when sometimes no body was there at all – this was a cause of some of Merimac’s grumbles, when he was at home in his study attempting to draw up an architectural plan. It was quite another for the dog to whine, in the night, and try to crawl, trembling, beneath the bedcovers.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ Merimac grumbled, though he was a little alarmed at the dog’s uncharacteristic behaviour.

‘Perhaps he’s ill,’ Prisca said. ‘Come, darling,’ -- she was talking to the dog at this juncture, and patted the coverlet. ‘Come here, little love.’

The dog crept on its belly up the length of the bed, and snuggled close, between the two hobbits, alternating between growls and whines.

Merimac opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again, and to his wife’s surprise, he stroked the smooth fur on the dog’s head, and fondled one of the sensitive ears.

‘What is it, Biscuit?’ Prisca said, and to her husband added, ‘It’s almost as if he’s trying to tell us something.’

‘Well, whatever it may be, this hobbit hasn’t the wit to hear and understand, not at this time of the night, anyhow,’ Merimac said. ‘If you think he’s about to be sick, put him out, and quickly, too. I don’t want to step in anything when I get up…’ He yawned and turned over, without insisting that the dog get down from the bed without delay.

Prisca was awake for some time after. She wondered if she ought to nudge her husband awake, and ask him to go around to make sure the doors and windows were secure… but she thought she’d listen hard, first, and not waken him because of her imaginings. The night was absolutely silent, however, without a breath of wind in the trees outside, nor the scritch of a mouse in the pantry.

At last she sighed, pulled the bedcovers up over the little dog – he was trembling! – laid her arm protectively over him, and slipped into sleep. The dog huddled close, quiet now, still shivering periodically, eyes wide open and staring into the darkness. He remained on guard through the remainder of the night, though the sleeping hobbits did not know.

Some time in the cold hour before dawn, he launched himself from the bed, barking frantically, and ran out of the bedroom.

‘That’s it!’ Merimac said, erupting from the bedcovers. ‘That little – little –‘ he was too much of a gentlehobbit to swear in front of his wife. ‘He’s sleeping in the stable from here onward!’

A series of regular thumps were coming from the front door as Biscuit threw himself against the door. The high-pitched barking intensified, though Merimac could scarcely credit it.

‘P’rhaps there’s something amiss,’ Prisca ventured, sitting up and pulling the bedcovers to her chin, her nightcap askew.

Merimac snorted at this understatement, but he pulled on his dressing gown over his nightclothes and stalked to the door of the bedroom. Berilac, his eldest, met him in the hall.

‘What is it, Dad?’ he said. ‘The dog’s barking fit to raise the dead!’

‘He’s certainly raising an alarum of some sort or another,’ Merimac answered, having to raise his voice to be heard. He strode to the front door, caught the little dog by the collar, mid-leap, and gave him a gentle shake. ‘Steady, now, Biscuit! What’s all this?’ The dog growled and wriggled in his hold, and when he did not put it down, it reached around and nipped his hand. Surprised, he dropped the dog – something he’d always cautioned the children against, when they held the little creature. He might break one of his legs!

Thankfully, though, Biscuit landed on his feet and sprang again at the door, barking again.

Careful not to step on the dancing, jumping dog, Merimac went to the door and looked out into the darkness. ‘I don’t see anything,’ he said at last, after peering intently. Of course, he could hardly hear his own thoughts with the tumult the dog was making.

He put his hand to the bolt, only to have his wife cry out from the hallway – she had emerged from the bedroom and stood hesitating, half-way to the door – ‘No! Don’t open it!’

‘Now lass,’ he shouted over the uproar. ‘It’s likely naught!’

She stumbled forward a few paces, and then turned to address the children, peeking from their rooms, sleepily blinking in wonder at this unexpected awakening. ‘Go back to your beds!’ she scolded. ‘All of you! And close your doors!’ Her fear was infectious, and there was a general slamming of bedroom doors and scrambling back into bed – as if that might be enough to keep them safe, in the event of an intrusion from the Old Forest…

Still, the windows had shutters with strong locks, and the doors were bolted at night, and though they might lose a lamb or chicken or two on occasion, they’d never been bothered in the house before, when everything was secure.

The dog stopped barking, to whine and sniff under the door, and in the nearly deafening pause a muffled voice was heard on the other side. ‘That’s a hobbit!’ Merimac said. ‘What if one of them’s ill, over by Crickhollow, and sent for help? We’re the nearest neighbours…’ He shot back the bolt and swung the door wide, and found a figure collapsed in a heap on the doorstep, crying and shuddering violently.

The dog darted forward, and barked in the prostrated hobbit’s face, and then danced back to Merimac, looking up and wagging his tail as if to say, Didn’t I do my duty well? Didn’t I?

As Merimac leaned over the unfortunate fellow, he heard him cry out as if in great fear. ‘No, no, no!’

‘It’s all right, lad,’ he said. ‘We’re here to help.’

The answer was baffling. ‘No!’ The hobbit cried out again, and then, ‘Not me! I haven’t got it!’

‘Come, let us get him inside,’ Prisca was there, at his side, as he attempted to lift the stricken hobbit; she moved around to the fellow’s other side and took him by the arm and shoulder. ‘Why, his hand is as cold as ice! Come now, lad, all’s well… A cup of tea…’

But their visitor huddled together, hiding his face in his arms. ‘No!’ he sobbed. ‘I haven’t got it! Not me! Don’t take me!’

Between them, husband and wife lifted the poor fellow to his feet, though he hardly seemed able to stand. Between cries he panted and gasped for air, as if he’d run a long way and was at the end of his strength. ‘Come, lad,’ Prisca said over and over, as they urged him into the house.

In the meantime, Merimac bellowed for his sons, and Berilac and Redelac, the two eldest, came from their room and quickly followed his order to light the lamps, build up the fires in kitchen and parlour and put the teakettle on. ‘A good, strong cup of tea is what’s wanted, I warrant.’

The little dog, his duty done now that his hobbits were awake and doing, trotted happily to the kitchen to await developments.

Though the visitor resisted their pull, his screams had subsided to whimpers. He was still protesting to someone or other with every breath he took, that he hadn’t got it – whatever it might be – and pleaded not to be seized and taken away. At last they managed to sit him down in the parlour, and by main force Merimac pried his arms from his face.

‘Fatty Bolger!’ he said in surprise, and to Prisca, hovering close at hand with her smelling salts, in case the fellow should faint, he added, ‘Didn’t I tell you I thought there might be some trouble at Crickhollow?’

Fatty cried out, shaking all over, babbling again. ‘No, no!’

‘Something’s dreadfully wrong,’ Merimac said, standing decisively to his full height. ‘I’m going over to see.’

‘No!’ Fatty said, erupting from his chair to seize the older hobbit. ‘No! They… they’re there! Don’t go to them! Run, or perish!’

‘Who’s this they he’s talking about?’ Berilac said, coming from the kitchen to report that the fire was bright and the teakettle would soon be boiling.

‘Frodo?’

‘No!’ Fatty screamed, whipped to further frenzy at the mention of the name. ‘No! Not me! I'm not–’

‘Have they all gone mad, over to…’ and Merimac remembered Fatty’s reaction to the name of Frodo’s new abode, and simply inclined his head instead of saying Crickhollow aloud.

‘I don’t believe it!’ Berilac said stoutly. ‘Mad? Cousin Merry of all people?’

And Redelac, kneeling on the parlour hearthrug, looked up from the fire he was kindling, tongues of reassuring flame rising in several places from the wood, and laughed, though it seemed to be no laughing matter. He said, with the confidence that comes from several years seniority, though he was still a tween himself, ‘And Pip's too young and foolish to do much harm...’

Fatty had subsided, suffering obvious exhaustion and scarcely hanging on to his senses; and he now sank down in the chair once more, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed wildly.

***

A/N: Some turns of phrase taken from “A Knife in the Dark” in Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Chapter 30. Disaster at Crickhollow

Merimac was at something of a loss. Fredegar Bolger was obviously at his wits’ end – worse, driven out of his wits by fear – and grief. The grief was perceptible through the overwhelming fear. What had happened at Crickhollow?

He had been crouching in front of the stricken hobbit, trying to reason with him, trying to make heads or tails of the broken bits of words that had been all they’d been able to coax from him, while the mug of tea Berilac had poured sat cooling on the table beside the chair.

Now the older hobbit stood to his feet. ‘I can’t make out what he’s on about,’ he said helplessly. ‘I’m going to go over there and see… Beri, you send to the Hall…’

But Freddy staggered to his feet and threw his arms about Merimac, shouting. ‘No! Don’t go! Don’t let Them take you!’

‘Them, again,’ Berilac said with a frown. ‘Who are they?’

‘Who are They?’ Merimac echoed. ‘Tell me, lad. What is it they’re after?’

Freddy buried his face in the shoulder of Merimac’s dressing gown, and now he whimpered, ‘Frodo…’

‘Frodo!’ Merimac said, startled, and Freddy cried out and shook all over.

Merimac looked around the circle of staring faces. ‘Truth be told,’ he said slowly, the pieces starting to fit somehow in his sleep-fogged brain. The mists were clearing, and he didn’t like the implications that were staring him in the face. ‘Truth be told, I thought Freddy, here, was Frodo, when I opened the door and saw him huddled there…the two do share a strong resemblance…’

‘…and I could swear he’s wearing Frodo’s favourite shirt,’ Berilac said. ‘I remember it well; Auntie Ally had it made for his Coming of Age, it’s old, but he’s kept it all these years, what with the same fancy stitching on the cuffs he’d admired in one of Merry’s shirts.’

‘Merry!’ Merimac said in dismay. ‘He’s at Crickhollow with Frodo!’

‘Old Forest,’ Freddy whimpered. ‘Old… Forest.’

And suddenly the pieces fell into place. ‘The Old Forest!’ he said. ‘Of course! It’s some sort of attack by the Forest, or some sort of invasion from that accursed place! No wonder the lad is out of his wits! Here, care for him, Priss… Do what you can!’ Merimac eased the weeping Freddy away from him and held him upright by the arms until Prisca could put an arm around the poor fellow’s shoulders and guide him to sit down once more. All the while Freddy wept, his hands over his face, seemingly hopeless, while Merimac thought furiously.

He made up his mind and looked to his eldest. ‘Berilac! Run to the Hall for help! Don’t stop for anything or anyone, and no matter what, don’t look behind you!’

And Berilac, thoroughly alarmed, was off in a flash, still in his night clothes, running for all he was worth.

Merimac ran to the front door. There, hanging from a sturdy strap, was his horn. He took it with him when he went out to a dig, whether it be as small as a smial or as extensive as a mine. Shire engineers had worked out a series of signals over time: shift change, summons for a foreman or engineer deep in the diggings, warning of danger. He’d even used the horn, upon a time, to summon aid from all the hobbits living in the area when a mine had collapsed and urgent action was needed to rescue the survivors. The horn had a loud voice that could cut sharply through underground echoes, or could be heard for miles in open air.

He knew what to blow. Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake! Awake!

***

Saradoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland and Head of the Brandybuck family, sat up in bed.

‘What is it, my love?’ his wife, Esmeralda said sleepily. ‘Surely it’s not quite time to waken yet?’ She yawned. They’d sat up rather late the evening before, making plans for a grand house-warming for Frodo, and discussing whether Merimac might spare Berilac to escort young Pip homeward again, for Merry was wanted to oversee aspects of the harvest. With his love of apples, his father had thought he’d be a good candidate to take over management of the orchards when he'd come of age, and he’d made several innovations already that had increased the quality and yield of fruit. Apple harvest was at hand, and Saradoc wanted his son to be able to bask in his achievements, to be on hand and see the fruits of his labour at first hand.

‘Something,’ he said. ‘I don’t know. Something’s amiss.’

‘Are you well?’ his wife said, coming awake and sitting up herself. Her husband had been unusually weary of late. He was overdoing, she thought, especially with Merry spending so much time over the summer helping Frodo with his plans and removal to Crickhollow. She sighed. It would be good to have their son at home again, not distracted, but available to take some of Saradoc’s load. She hadn’t shared her concerns about Saradoc’s health with Merry, but she would, just so soon as a quiet, private moment presented itself.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, the far-away look still on his face, but then he came to himself and patted her hand. ‘Naught’s wrong with me,’ he said, and then made a sweeping gesture. ‘But something is amiss… I thought I heard…’

And then there was a rapid, urgent knocking at the bedroom door, and the door was thrown open in the next instant, and one of the night servants was there. ‘Beg pardon, Sir, but young Mr. Beri’s here, ran all the way, it seems, and something’s dreadful wrong…’

‘Merimac!’ Saradoc said, springing from the bed with some of his old vigour. ‘Rocky! Something’s happened to my brother?’

‘Don’t know,’ Rocky said apologetically. ‘But Mr. Beri’s in the courtyard – practically fell into the stable hobbits’ arms when he arrived – must’ve run all the way – and someone’s sounding the Horn Call of Buckland – you can hear it on the breeze…’ And as he spoke, he crossed to the window and threw open the sash, and the voice of the horn could be clearly distinguished, distant and faint, but urgent, answered by other horns close at hand as the alarm spread.

‘That call hasn't sounded in an hundred years!’ Saradoc said in consternation.

‘Not since the Brandywine froze over, in the Fell Winter, and the wolves crossed over...’ Esmeralda said faintly. ‘Old Bilbo used to tell the tale.’ She hugged herself tightly, her eyes wide with fear. ‘O what can it mean?’

‘More's joining in the call,’ Rocky said, scanning the horizon.

Saradoc joined him in short order, but the window faced in the wrong direction. He leaned out and shouted to the hobbits in the courtyard, clustering around a ghostly figure – Berilac, his white nightshirt billowing about him, was bent over and gasping for breath, held up by helping arms. ‘See you fire, or smoke, to the northeast?’

‘Nay!’ came the answering shout. Saradoc saw Berilac push against the hobbits supporting him; evidently he gasped out a few words, for there were shouts of dismay and then one of them called to the Master. ‘Foes! Old Forest!’

‘Sound the Muster!’ Saradoc snapped, filled with energy at this emergency. ‘To arms! Axes and torches and bows! Form up and be ready to march on my order.’

‘Sir!’ the stable workers chorused, and scattered, leaving one of their number to help Berilac into the Hall.

‘Find my nephew some clothes, and a glass of brandy to restore him,’ Saradoc said to Rocky in dismissal. He threw off his nightshirt and began to dress as rapidly as he could, all the while snapping orders to Esmeralda, as to the Hall’s defence whilst the body of armed hobbits went out to meet the emergency.

***

Some time later, Saradoc and Merimac stood in the yard at Crickhollow, stunned and sick at heart. The doors to the smial gaped wide, broken open; the garden gate hung from one damaged hinge. An abandoned cloak – Frodo’s, they deemed – lay upon the doorstep. Inside the smial were signs of a hasty, vicious search – drawers pulled open and their contents scattered, shelves thrown down, trunks overturned, cushions violently slashed with a sharp blade.

A rider on a lathered pony pulled up short at the gate; the rider jumped down and ran to the Master. ‘Attack at the North Gate, sir! I rode first to the Hall, and they told me to find you here.’

Saradoc simply stared, a private horror gnawing at him, but Merimac stepped forward. ‘What sort of attack?’ he said. ‘Who are they? Did they come out of the Forest?’

‘Men, tall Men in black cloaks, on black horses,’ the messenger said, and shuddered. ‘Rode down the guards at the gate, and passed out of Buckland. One guard dead, and too soon to tell for the other that couldn’t get out of their way in time.’

Saradoc bowed his head at this, and then raised it again, his eyes glittering with tears. ‘How many?’ he asked. ‘Did they carry any hobbits away with them?’

The messenger shrugged helplessly. ‘I’m sorry, Sir, I was in the gatehouse at the time and only heard and felt their passing.’ He shuddered. ‘Awful, it was. Some sort of black sorcery, I should say. Rode down the guards at the gate and left them for dead.’ His eyes were haunted with the memory. ‘Howling, they passed, like a cursed wind…’