How this story came to be...

tl;dr (as they say): The setting and backdrop for the Tooks and Tookland in my stories are drawn from J.R.R. Tolkien's casually dropped hints and details. 

*** 

Against the grand backdrop of the Quest, with its sweeping vision and lovingly crafted descriptions, Tolkien scattered hints about places and people groups that give a sense of depth and layers to the history of his creation. One such people group is the Tooks, a Hobbit clan descended from the early (pre-Shire) Fallohide branch of Hobbitry. Tooks appear in three of the four Travellers' family trees. 

Tolkien's thoughtful world-building made it possible to gather up the threads of his hints and weave them into some sort of tapestry. He describes the Tooks as a clannish bunch who are seemingly suspicious of strangers as a whole, notwithstanding the Old Took's friendship with Gandalf and Pippin's quick connection with Beregond. They were the first to start shooting at Lotho's Men, as Farmer Cotton told the returning Travellers, and hunted any ruffians that came on their land. 

The Green Hill country gives the impression of being wilder and less-settled than the inhabited parts of the Shire Tolkien describes. It is easy to envision high, rolling hills, tumbling streams and waterfalls, isolated copses and stretches of woodland that, moving eastward from Tuckborough or southeastward from Bywater, become a solid blanket where the Woody End and the Green Hill Country intersect. One might imagine country suited to hunters and wanderers, along with shepherds watching over flocks of sheep or herds of goats and smallholders living in cosy smials tucked into hillsides, tilling crops on a small scale, and raising relatively small herds of shaggy hill cattle for their milk, cheese and meat. The wooded areas might feature foresters or woodcarvers or furniture-makers or even charcoal-burners, some living in small communities in the woods, like The Yale, and others scattered and solitary. The more solitary among them, whether wanderers or rooted in place, might well be seen as peculiar by the hobbits living in the more settled and populous areas. 

One striking feature of the Green Hill Country is the lack of roads. For example, Tolkien's maps feature no roads connecting Tuckborough with Tookbank or Waymeet or Bywater. And even though a road runs from Tuckborough to Stock which lies near the banks of the Brandywine River, the author's description of the Stock Road at the time the Travellers first set out on their journey includes "a narrow road, that went rolling up and down.... It climbed away from the main road in the Water-valley, and wound over the skirts of the Green Hills towards the Woody End, a wild corner of the Eastfarthing." Tolkien also mentions a "deeply cloven track between tall trees ... a dry fir-wood [just over the top of a hill].... [T]he road ran steeply down into a hollow and disappeared" as well as "a stream at the foot of the hill" featuring "a little fall where the [icy-cold] water fell a few feet over an outcrop of grey stone" and "dived under the road" at the bottom of the slope. After a bit more description, Tolkien adds that "[t]his way was not much used, being hardly fit for carts, and there was little traffic to the Woody End." 

Yet the Stock Road is the only road on the map ('A Part of the Shire') connecting Tuckborough and the Great Smials to other places, whether inside or outside the Tookland! 

In later stories, I came to explain the neglected condition of the Stock Road as stemming from a serious breach that occurred between the Great Smials and Brandy Hall during the time of Lalia the Fat, when her son Ferumbras was Thain. After Lalia's death, Ferumbras gave little attention to keeping the roads in the Shire for a king that felt unreal to him. In particular, since he never used the Stock Road himself, Ferumbras saw little to no reason to devote any resources to its upkeep and repair. 

Also, in my version of the Shire, sometime during his last few years as Thain, Ferumbras moved Tookland's treasury to a more secure location which he kept secret. But Ferumbras died suddenly, and Paladin became Thain. Since the treasury had "gone missing", Ferumbras's successor had no resources to pay for repair and upkeep of the roads, including the neglected Stock Road, much less anything else.

In my stories set in the Fourth Age, I have dotted a series of inns along this rather forlorn and deserted track ("forlorn and deserted" according to Frodo's description, anyhow). My imaginings include an explanation for this seeming contradiction as follows: 

After the ruffians were thrown out, Tolkien describes a time of prosperity in the Shire. One of the Travellers hailed from the wild Green Hill Country, while the others called more settled parts home. Thus, under the Travellers' influence, travel might have picked up between the rest of the Shire and Tuckborough in the heart of the Tookland. In particular, considering Pippin and Merry's close relationship, the Stock Road would have seen an increase in traffic between the Great Smials and Brandy Hall, especially after the two close cousins became Thain and Master. It seems reasonable that Pippin, on becoming Thain, would have underscored the Thain's duty to keep the roads for the King. In support of his efforts, the recovery of Tookland's treasury about a year after Pippin became Thain meant that road-building and repair could be fully funded. 

A woodcarver or woodcutter or hunter living near the Stock Road, even during the period when the road was allowed to fall into disrepair, would be in prime position to take in travellers, earning a bit of extra coin by providing meals and possibly beds for those on the way from one place to another. A honey-hunter who kept track of colonies of wild bees (the forest equivalent of a beekeeper) might become known for brewing mead, and might build a common room onto his forest dwelling for locals – and eventually, travellers – to gather, which is perhaps how the Crowing Cockerel got its start, though eventually that establishment expanded its beverage offerings and became the home of "the best beer on the Stock Road".

As travel grew between Stock and Tuckborough, so did a few of the more favourably-situated inns, so that travellers would no longer need to camp along the 50-mile stretch but could sleep in comfort. Most of the innkeepers likely did not quit their day jobs (woodcutting, hunting, etc.), but some might have eventually ended up with bustling establishments, helped along by the Thain and Master of Buckland's scheme, after Pippin became Thain, to set up a pony relay about every ten miles along the Stock Road, thus providing a steady income for stabling and boarding the mounts provided and funded by the Thain and Master. 

Backtracking slightly, it's relatively easy to spin a mental picture of a very old roadway that has been in use for a long time ("deeply cloven track") but has fallen out of use, perhaps as the Tookland became more isolated under Ferumbras. Isolation and a challenging landscape provide a logical explanation for the ruffians' inability to overrun that area, added to Farmer Cotton's recounting of the Tookish resistance (he tells the returning Travellers that the Tooks started the shooting, Pippin's father called Lotho 'an upstart', and Lotho's men 'got no change out of [the Thain]'. Not to mention, 'and they won't let the ruffians come onto their land. If they do, Tooks hunt 'em'.) The Thain is also described in military terms in 'About Hobbits' as the 'master of the Shire-moot, and captain of the Shire-muster and Hobbitry-in-arms'. 'The Scouring of the Shire' also reveals that Paladin sent a hundred Tooks to the Battle at Bywater, and he himself led another large body to scour ruffians out of the Shire in the other direction from Bywater. 

Tolkien's descriptions of this wild land and its proud, untamed inhabitants led to the idea of the Thain's escort, made up of hunters who know the land like the fur on their feet and can shoot a bow with skill and accuracy. A shepherd or herd-hobbit or farmer would have his dogs to protect him from dangers in the wild. Shirriffs patrolled the Four Farthings, and one of their specified responsibilities was to deal with stray animals, which would have included dogs. Though Bilbo wandered by himself, it's easy to imagine that he wore Sting on his wanderings and could handle himself in a pinch. In this light, it is conceivable that the Tooks would have a tradition of protecting their leader. That train of thought underlies how the hobbits of the Thain's escort came about in my stories. 

Furthermore, the escort are quite determined and dedicated, by tradition and the oath they have sworn to protect their Thain, which Pippin finds inconvenient at best and smothering at its worst. 

*** 

In terms of background, very early on, one of my earliest-written Fourth-Age stories laid out a timeline where Pippin, not long after he came of age, tricked the hobbit who was supposed to accompany him on forays in the wild Green Hill Country, and rode off by himself – into an ice storm, where he nearly died. His father blamed the escort to begin with, but as the situation grew worse, so did the consequences for Pippin's escort. As the estrangement grew between the Thain and his son, Pippin decided not to return to his homeland, and the Brandybucks offered him a responsible position as assistant to their Steward. Later, he became the Steward of Buckland in his own right, and served as Merry's right-hand hobbit. Though he eventually came to an understanding of some kind with his father, Pippin stubbornly remained in Buckland until Paladin's death. As his dying request, Paladin named Pippin to be the next Thain; thus, honour compelled Pippin to return to Tookland at last. It must also be said that Paladin did not repent of his harsh judgement towards the erring hobbit of the Thain's escort until he was on his deathbed.

(Because this estrangement saddens me, I later constructed an alternate timeline, as reflected in The Farmer's Son. But that does not come into this story.) 

Upon his return to take up the office of Thain, Pippin finds that Tookland's Steward, Reginard, for reasons of his own, has elevated the formerly disgraced escort to the position of Head of the Thain's escort. Once Pippin grasps the ruin he has made of that cousin's life, he leaves things as Regi has established them, perhaps as the start of his own attempt to make amends and right old wrongs. 

*** 

Note: Part of this chapter (i.e. the flashback to 'a few months earlier') sets the background for this story by summarising events from the longer story StarFire.

Chapter 1. As Bad as Bad Might Be

~ S.R. 1434, late Autumn, during the first year when Peregrin I was Thain ~ 

'Don't say it,' Ferdibrand warned. 

'It could be worse,' Pippin said, paying no heed to his cousin's staying hand. 

Ferdi nearly jumped out of his skin. 'Bite your tongue, Cousin!' 

Pippin eyed him wearily. 'Very well,' he said. 'If you insist... It's about as bad as bad can be.' 

...placing Ferdi in the unenviable position of having to go against his deepest-held principles, and say that things were not as bad as bad might be, admitting that they could be worse. Which was a sentiment that he never allowed to cross his lips, knowing all too well the potential consequences of such careless speech. 'Pip,' he said, and stopped, at a loss. 

His younger cousin sighed and then seemed to take pity on the older cousin. 'It's not as if we won't survive this situation,' he said, as he had so many times before this moment. And then he shook his head and said, 'No. That came out wrong. What I mean to say is, though we may not come out of this, the Tooks will survive, and with them, the Tookland.' 

'The Tookland,' Ferdi said slowly. He'd nearly given his life to protect his homeland in the time of the Troubles and the Battle of Bywater, and Thain Peregrin knew that quite well. 

'Well of course,' Pippin said, as he always did when this particular topic came up. 'She's been through worse, after all. Even stood against Lotho's campaign to bring the entire Shire under his thumb, and all of Saruman's machinations after him. Come to think on it, Saruman didn't want any such trifling thing as mere domination – he meant to see the Shire in ruins, the sky and streams fouled, the Shire-folk crawling in the dust, starving slowly to death...' 

It could be worse...

*** 

~ a few months earlier ~ 

The new Thain was determined to announce to the Tooks, the Tooklanders, indeed, to the entire Shire that the treasure store of the Thain was gone. 

Pippin's mad scheme to continue Thain Paladin's solution to the Tooks' financial straits had evaporated in the face of harsh realities. From the time he became Thain, advised to act as if the Thain's treasure store had not disappeared under old Lalia or her son Ferumbras, Paladin had scraped and saved and built up opportunities to take in coin: pony and livestock sales, pony races and the annual all-Shire archery tournament chief among them. Tookish ponies always did well in the annual Tookland Race and the All-Shire Race that followed a month later, and Paladin had somehow established the custom that – in addition to Tookland taking half the entry money and dividing the other half amongst the winners' purses – owners would pay half their winnings for the privilege and prestige of running their ponies under Tookland's green-and-gold colours. 

The purses went a long way towards paying various expenses at the Great Smials. It helped that Paladin had cut wages when he'd discovered the gold was gone, publicly blaming Lalia's extravagance for his own cost-cutting measures. Moreover, many Tooklanders had been persuaded to work for bed and board and no wages at all during the Troubles. Pippin's father had reinstated wages after the Troubles ended, but kept them low. The Tooks, seeing as how he'd kept the ruffians out of the Tookland, might have grumbled, but no one openly complained. 

Pippin, coming into this difficult inheritance, had thought to win the first-place purse in the All-Shire race with one of his own ponies, taking not the Thain's customary half but all the winnings on behalf of the Tookland. He was also certain that Tookland's entries in the race were fast enough to take first and another place against the fastest of all four Farthings, and Buckland into the bargain. Thus, he anticipated Tookish ponies winning first place and fourth, at least, if not better. The purses would be overall fatter, too, because this was an election year, and many Shire-folk would be flocking to Michel Delving for the election along with the annual Pony Race. 

Yes, Pippin had been confident of his chances that the Tookish entries might finish high in the race standings. 

As they had! Starfire, the Thain's fiery gift from Éomer, King of Rohan, had easily swept past all the other contenders, including the best that Buckland had to offer, and finished first. One of Merry's ponies had finished second. Pippin's favourite, Socks, had taken third place, presenting quite a respectable showing for the ageing pony. 

...but all three ponies, Tookish and Bucklander, had been disqualified by the Master of the Races and the Race Committee, on account of an obscure Rule that had been put in place in the days of Bandobras Took. There would be no prize money from the races to bring Tookland through to harvest time. To add worse to worry, what with the drought, there was no counting on selling extra from the harvest to hobbits in the other Farthings to pay Tookland's expenses through to the following year, either. As it was looking, there'd be barely enough harvested in the Tookland this year to feed the Tooklanders. 

As his doom came crashing down all around him, Pippin had found no peace after retreating to the sitting room of the private suite reserved for the Thain. A knock had sounded at the door, and soon after, the rest of the hobbits concerned with the outcome of the Race had filed into the room. As Merry haltingly explained the official outcome of the race, destroying all of Pippin's carefully constructed plans, the young Thain looked from the faces of his race riders, Ferdi and Hilly, to those of Merry's riders, to his steward Regi's grim expression, to Sam, to Merry and Estella, and lastly, to the Master of the Races, who to his credit looked sympathetic – but unyielding. 

He felt Diamond's hand on his arm then, warm, solid, anchoring him to the present moment, even in this room that felt too full of hobbits, with not enough air for the breathing. 

The Thain found himself wondering, and not for the first time since the Tooks had reluctantly confirmed the Succession, what Strider would say if his young knight of Gondor should suddenly show up, with Diamond and Farry in tow, before the Gate of Minas Tirith and ask to be taken in. Permanently. 

Setting all temptation aside, all he could do now, in the face of complete ruin – his own and his homeland's – was straighten in his chair as he tried to catch his breath. 

Merry's worry was plain on his face, and Samwise, from his expression, was downright miserable. This will never do, Pippin scolded himself. Why, Sam should be celebrating his re-election as Mayor of the Shire, not dealing with thorny issues – such as the winner (or not) of the All-Shire Race and the possible repercussions for an old friend and fellow Traveller. 

Thus, the young Thain sought to do his best to retrieve the situation. 'Very well, Regi,' he said evenly, moving his gaze to meet the Steward's eyes. 'We must give back not only the third-place purse but the winner's purse as well. See to it, will you?' 

'Yes, Sir,' Regi said quietly, and turned to the others. 'Was there any other business?' he barked. 

There were shakings of heads and murmured repetition of No on the part of the rest of the hobbits in the sitting room. Merry waved his riders from the room, telling them he'd be along later. The Master of the Races bowed to both Thain and Master and departed, followed by Reginard, Hilly and Ferdi. Last of all the intruders that Hildibold had reluctantly allowed to enter the suite, Sam stood hesitating. 

'Samwise, will you join us in a brandy?' Diamond said, rising from her seat. 

'No, thank you, ma'am,' the Mayor said hastily, putting up a staying hand. 'I left Rose wondering, and...' He stumbled over the words, for though he seemed to have a good word for almost every occasion, there didn't seem to be any good words to be found in this moment. Thus, he nodded to Merry, then to Pippin, gave an awkward bow, and took his leave. 

Merry and Estella stayed for brandy – they had supplied the brandy for the post-Race celebration, after all, so that Diamond felt obliged to press them to take at least one glass. The conversation was awkward and halting, confined for the most part to the weather, a relatively safe topic so long as the prospect of a poor harvest was not mentioned. Refusing a second glass and not inclined to linger as they might in usual circumstances, the Master and Mistress of Buckland finished their brandy and rose, for it would soon be time for the fireworks. Protocol and tradition demanded that the Master of Buckland must stand by the Mayor's side to receive the cheers of the crowd since he'd provided the entertainment. Never mind that it was the last thing the Brandybuck wanted to do at the moment. 

Merry hesitated. 'Pippin?' he said. 'Is there anything...?' He wasn't quite sure what to ask. Pippin did not look as well as he had when he'd left Buckland to take up the reins of the Tookland and the rest of the Shire. He's definitely thinner, Merry thought to himself. Though he had tried to keep his glances casual, he had clearly seen in their interactions over the course of the day that Pippin had less colour and life, less energy, less... 

'Nothing!' Pippin said firmly, rising to take his cousin's arm. As he escorted Merry to the door, he said heartily, 'All is well! I suppose they'll be talking about this race for years to come! Think of the entertainment we've furnished the hobbits of the Shire!' 

There was no use asking for Merry's help in the current crisis; if word got out that Brandybuck gold had been used to dig the Thain out of the present hole he was in, there'd be a scandal of monumental proportions. Pippin's fitness to be Thain would be questioned (as if it weren't already), and the Tookland might be cast into even more turmoil than that from which the young Took was trying to rescue his homeland in the first place. 

'I've got a cloud-cake in the oven,' he said obliquely, 'and if you open the door to check it'll fall flat and come to nothing, you know.' 

Merry nodded, his unhappiness plain on his face. Pippin could almost read his thoughts. The younger cousin was on his own, thrown into the River to sink or swim, to use an old Buckland proverb. If Merry rescued him from whatever trouble he was in now, Pippin might never be accepted as Thain in his own right. He'd always be looked upon as the younger cousin needing rescuing by an older and wiser head. 'Let me know how it comes out,' his Brandybuck cousin now said. 

It was in that moment that Pippin made up his mind. There was nothing for it. His back was against the wall of Caradhras, so to speak, and the snows were mounting, threatening to go over his head, and he could see only one course to follow, wolves, orcs, Balrog, Tooks or any other hazards notwithstanding. 'I'm sure everybody will know, sooner or later,' he said. Merry looked at him sharply, and he found himself stifling a laugh. It's either laugh or cry or curse aloud at this point, he thought to himself.

'You're not going to get yourself in trouble?' the older cousin hissed. 

At this, Pippin gave in to laughter and slapped Merry's back. 'I'm already in a world of trouble, Merry!' he said. 'What's a little more trouble, I ask you?' 

'Pippin?' Merry said, stopping at the door and refusing to go through. 

This would never do. At this rate, Merry was going to come belated to the fireworks, and of course Sam would not be able to begin without him. 'The Tooks agreed to the succession and I became Thain,' Pippin said, pushing his cousin gently out the door. He kissed Estella on the cheek and nodded at her to follow her husband. 'What more trouble could anyone think of?' 

He could see that Merry was reluctant to go, and he nodded again at Estella's backwards look, to express his appreciation as she took Merry's arm, both in support and to urge him along. 

The young Thain sighed as he closed the door behind them, and then he moved to the table and sank down in his chair again, where he poured himself a generous glass of brandy and topped off Diamond's glass. 'I am well,' he lied in answer to his beloved's unspoken query. Of course, she knew him better than that, but together, out of long practice, they both pretended it was the absolute truth. 

Later, in the coach on the way from Michel Delving to Whittacres, his family's farm, to celebrate the outcome of the race (or not, as things had turned out) and Pippin's birthday into the bargain, Pippin shared his newly hatched plans with those closest to him: his mother and his wife. There was no point in discussing the disappearance of Tookland's gold any further than they had already. 'There's naught for it,' he said with a grimace.

'What do you mean?' Eglantine asked, her eyes narrowing. 

Pippin met her gaze directly. 'I won't live a lie,' he said. 'My father did, and it made him hard, cold and bitter. I won't pretend to be the richest hobbit in the Shire, sitting on my hoard.' 

He saw his mother's hands tighten, knuckles whitening, though she was careful not to waken young Faramir, who had been rocked to sleep in her lap by the motion of the coach. 'But they won't listen to you if...' she gasped. 

'If they only listen to me for the gold they think I hoard, then I don't want their ears,' Pippin said, finality in his tone. 'They confirmed the Succession; they made me Thain. I had to swear to do my best by the Tooks and by the Shire-folk, and do my best I shall, but I won't do it with lies.' 

'What are you going to do?' Diamond said, her hand squeezing his in reassurance. Whatever you may decide, you know that I am with you. 

'I'm going to tell the Tooks just how much gold is in the Thain's hoard,' Pippin said. Or how little. 'If they don't believe me, I'll take them to the place and show them.' He sighed as deeply as his ruined lungs would allow and spoke of a few more repercussions, finishing, 'and how the Talk will spread... for the Thain is only as good as his word, you know.' 

Diamond's hand tightened on his. 'We'll get through this,' she said, 'and if worse comes to worst...' 

Pippin began to laugh softly. 

'What is it?' his wife and mother both asked in the same breath. 

'What's the worst they can do?' the young Thain said when he'd got his breath back. 'Turn me off? Find another Thain?' 

*** 

The birthday celebration at the farm was all Diamond might have hoped: laughter, storytelling, song, Pearl's fine cooking, amusement at the children's antics. And, to her relief, all the adult hobbits there – Pearl and Isumbold, Ferdibrand as Pippin's official rider in the All-Shire Race and head of the Thain's escort, Ferdi's father Ferdinand, Hildibold as Pippin's other race-rider and a hobbit of the escort, and Healer Mardibold, ostensibly there to keep an eye on old Ferdinand – all the hobbits there showed both overtly and in subtle ways their support for Pippin in this impossible situation. 

By the time the visit to the farm ended and the time had come to return to the Great Smials and face reality, everyone had talked themselves hoarse, but they'd hammered out some sort of strategy to take the Tookland through the difficult times ahead. 

At least, Diamond hoped as much. Best of all, Pippin had eaten as much as she'd ever seen him eat since the Old Gaffer's Friend had gotten its hooks into him and tried to pull him down into the grave, some years before they'd married. He'd rested, and so had she. Why, he'd even slept through every night without nightmares, leaving Diamond to waken in the morning feeling clear-headed and refreshed. He'd laughed at Isum's sly jibes, revelled in being "just a regular hobbit" and not the Thain of Tookland and all the Shire, not having to watch his every word and even his facial expressions for fear of the Talk he might set off. None of your nonsense now, Pip was one of Regi's oft-quoted admonishments, and for good reason. 

*** 

When it came time to leave, Eglantine was quite put out that for her to ride in comfort from Whittacres to Tuckborough, the coach would have to drive in quite the opposite direction: to Whitwell, then up to Waymoot, through Bywater and eastward nearly to the Brandywine on the Great East Road, down to Stock, turning towards the Great Smials at last on the crumbling Stock Road. Though Isumbold had arranged to take her to Whitwell in the waggon, whence he could hire a pony and driver and comfortable conveyance to take her the rest of the way, she soon put things right. Or at least to her satisfaction. 

Her irritation came to a head as everyone gathered in the yard for farewells. Isumbold, surrounded by children, leaned on his heavy walking stick, all of them ready to sing a farewell song to bless the departure from the farm. Pearl stood holding the ponies hitched to a waggon, for she'd offered to drive her mother to Whitwell. Pippin, with Farry's "help", held Socks and Diamond's gentle mare as they waited to mount. 

Ferdi was already mounted and waiting, for old Ferdinand had shooed him away when the time came to complete the preparations needed to ease the old hobbit into the sling they'd rig between two ponies to carry him in comfort. At last sight, Ferdinand had been comfortably ensconced in a pile of hay in the barn, supervising Mardi and Hilly as they saddled the two ponies they'd ride while carrying the old hobbit homewards.

'Are we about ready?' Pippin asked everyone in general.

'Well I'm not!' Eglantine countered.

'Mother?' Pippin and Pearl said together. 

'It'll take a week to travel to the Smials in a coach!' she sputtered. 'Pony back is good enough for this hobbit!' 

'Five days, Mother,' Pearl said patiently. 'And you've never complained of the journey before.' 

'What use was there, before?' Eglantine said. 'Now you put that waggon away, Isum, or have your hired hobbits do so, and find me a pony I may borrow for the ride.' Her tone brooked no contradiction, as daughter and son and the hobbits who'd known her as the Mistress when Paladin was Thain knew all too well. She eyed the ponies hitched to the waggon. 'I suppose these lovely lads are suited to waggon and plough, but not to saddle.' 

'Yes'm,' Isum responded, meekly for all he'd been head of the Thain's escort under old Ferumbras and one of the few hobbits who could order a Thain to do his bidding (all in the name of the Thain's safety, of course). 

Eglantine went on with her thoughts about the journey ahead. 'Old Ferumbras talked about a road between Bywater and Tuckborough but never got around to building one, all the better to inconvenience the Sackville-Bagginses, I suspect! And your father...' 

'Didn't have the gold to pay for it,' Pippin said, 'and neither do I, so there'll be no road built in the near future, I warrant, Sackville-Bagginses or no. Perhaps we can persuade a few of Lobelia's relations from Harbottle to move closer, that we might inconvenience them with the lack of the road. Hate to see a good bit of bother wasted.' 

'None of your nonsense, now, Pippin,' Eglantine said. 'You're determined to confess to the Tooks that the treasury is empty, and you know what they'll say! They'll suspect you of spiriting off the gold yourself! After all, so far as anyone knows the gold was still there until you became Thain!' 

'Well then,' Pippin said mildly, 'you may put me under the Ban for a year-and-a-day as a thief. I say, it's quite an enticing thought, not to be spoken to for a whole year! Think of how much I could get done, were Tooks not badgering me day and night.' 

Diamond, seeing Ferdi's expression, said, 'My dear.' She was grieved on both cousins' behalf, Pippin's for his carelessness, which she knew he'd rue for a long time to come, as he often did when he spoke his thoughts unreservedly, and Ferdi's for the wound the younger cousin had just salted. For Ferdibrand had lived under the Ban for some years, unjustly imposed by Paladin for Pippin's actions in leaving the Tookland behind him. And Pippin, having exiled himself to Buckland, never knew of the injustice until he returned to take up the Thainship after Paladin's death. Though he'd tried to make amends... how does one make amends for blighting nine years of another's life? 

Pippin was immediately apologetic. 'I'm sorry, Ferdi, I spoke without thinking...' 

'No harm done,' Ferdi said stiffly, dismounting from Starfire and handing his reins to Isum. 'I'll just saddle another pony for Mistress Eglantine, if Isum can spare one, that is, and we'll send a stable lad to fetch it back to Whittacres good as new.' 

'The bay gelding has easy paces,' Isum said, completely and deliberately ignoring the tension in the air. 'I swapped two calves for him after borrowing him to ride to Michel Delving. He's about as cosy as a rocking chair.' 

'Very well,' Ferdi said, directing the words to Isum, and took himself off to the barn where Hilly and Mardibold were saddling ponies and arranging Ferdinand's conveyance. 

'You've got to stop doing that,' Diamond said sotto voce to her husband. 

'Speaking without thinking?' Pippin said. 'I have rather put my foot in it.' 

'He was doing so well, and now you've put his back up again,' Diamond reproached. 

'Stubborn Took that he is,' Pippin said. He shook his head. 'To think I nearly ruined him, and for what? Had he ridden the Rohan in the race under duress,' for at first, he'd tried to force Ferdi to his will, to ride that pony to victory on Pippin's behalf, 'he'd still have been disqualified!' 

As things turned out, Ferdi had later capitulated; that is, he had willingly ridden the fiery stallion of Rohan in the race, though Diamond still did not know the details of the cousins' final agreement. Pippin had then presented the Rohan, renamed Starfire, to his cousin, perhaps as restitution for his unjust dealings. A handsome present, indeed, the most valuable ponyflesh in the Shire. 

Diamond could still scarcely believe her husband's ruthlessness. Though now knowing the desperation that had lain beneath, she could almost understand Pippin's reasons even if she would never have countenanced his actions. Still, she was glad to see his remorse, for it meant he'd taken the matter to heart and was using his new-found knowledge to grow wiser, one of the qualities she had loved in him from the start. 

'What a fool I was!' her beloved was saying even now. 

'Still are,' Diamond said, taking his arm and leaning against him. 'But I love you in spite of it all.' 

The next few moments were taken up with exchanging hugs with her nieces and nephews and listening to last-minute thoughts on the young ones' part, that absolutely had to be spoken now and not held until their next meeting. 

Turning back to their waiting ponies, she was thankful for these past precious days of counsel and rest. Merry might have called it the deep breath before taking the plunge, as she remembered from their time in Buckland, but then the Brandybucks had all sorts of odd sayings that had to do with the River that ran by their homeland. She shuddered a little at the thought. 

'Not taking cold, my dear, I hope?' Pippin said, noticing. 

'Not at all!' Diamond returned promptly. 'And how could I take cold, I ask you! The day is warming nicely!' 

'No sign of rain,' he agreed. And then she might have kicked herself for the reminder her words had provided of the warm, dry weather, for he sighed as his eyes went over the surrounding fields, as if he were once again calculating a scanty harvest. 

But then, she reminded herself, a poor harvest is only the beginning of our troubles. So of course, she added in her brightest tones, 'It'll be fine travelling weather...' 

'O aye,' he said, still sounding more discouraged than she could bear. 

'...for when the Tooks turn you out, and we continue on to Gondor,' she added. She stretched then, lithe as a cat, and bringing her arms down to encircle him on one side and Farry on the other, she said, 'Why, I can practically taste Elessar's welcoming feast!' 

To her satisfaction, he threw back his head and laughed at this picture, and his arm went around her waist in answer to her embrace, and he pulled her close. 

'He does put on a rather marvellous welcoming feast, at that,' he said, nuzzling the top of her head. 

'Well then,' Diamond said, and she ruffled Faramir's curls as the child looked from one parent to the other with a wondering look, as if he thought they might be serious. 

Well, she half-way was. 

'Well then,' she repeated. 'I can hardly wait.' 

*** 

Chapter 2. After the Convocation Ended

The Great Convocation in Thain Peregrin's first year as Thain had gone much better than his Steward, Reginard, had expected. In fact, the occasion had gone much better than Thain Peregrin himself had any call to anticipate. 

Pippin had ordered the summoning of Shire-folk representing the entire Shire. In practical terms, the crowd had comprised all the Tooks and servants and other folk living or working in the Great Smials and the good citizens of Tuckborough, for starters. The announcement had gone out to Tooklanders living in outlying areas, both Tooks and others. Pippin had also sent word to the Mayor, along with the request that Samwise extend an invitation to any other Shire-folk he felt ought to attend, for the convocation would include a Major Announcement that would likely have a widespread effect across the Shire. Lastly, the heads of all the Great Families in the Four Farthings as well as Buckland had been invited to attend. 

The summons had not included the reason for gathering hobbits from every corner of the Shire on the large field to one side of the Great Smials. Gossip and speculation had run wild. However, almost no one (except for those already in the know) had been prepared for the young Thain's admission in front of this great crowd that all the gold he supposedly held – the vast and fabled treasure-hoard of the Tooks – was gone. 

Regi had expected the worst and yet, somehow, seen the best of Hobbits this day. The initial accusations that Pippin was responsible for the disappearance of the Treasury died away in the face of the new Thain's sincerity, regret, and determination. Instead of pulling apart after hearing Pippin's devastating news, Shire-folk had pulled together. 

Astonishingly, rather than being left with nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth, Regi now contemplated the untidy pile of coins spilling over the surface of the tablecloth covering the head table. After telling of the disappearance of the Treasury some time before his father, Thain Paladin, had ascended to the Thainship, Pippin had admitted that, due to recent circumstances, he hadn't tuppence to rub together, much less the resources needed to keep the Tookland stumbling along the path that had been set before them. 

In the silence that had followed this confession, a farmer had risen from the picnic blankets where his family had eaten and then listened to Pippin's speech. He'd threaded his way through the picnickers and then skirted the tables where the more highly placed guests sat, ending at the head table, where he nodded to the Thain. As everyone including the Thain and Steward waited to hear what he had to say, the farmer almost apologetically moved Pippin's plate and cup aside and then dumped the contents of his coin purse – comprising a handful of coppers and a silver penny or two – onto the table. 

'It's not much,' the humble farmer had said to the startled Thain, 'but it'll help a bit, I warrant.' 

This generous act led others to rise from their places at tables or on picnic blankets spread upon the large meadow to one side of the Great Smials to accommodate the immense crowd of Shire-folk. Soon, a procession of farmers, shepherds, woodcutters, potters, ropers, gardeners, thatchers, and more, even gentlehobbits came forward in an orderly line to contribute to the collection. By the time the last hobbit reached the head tables, the pile of coin had overflowed one table and all but filled another.

It was, Regi believed, the first time he'd ever seen Pippin at a loss for words. 

And now, after the departure of the invited guests, dignitaries and commoners alike, Regi still sat at his place, last of all to leave. Servants were clearing the tables around him. Some bore away stacks of plates and bins of used cutlery from the field to the flagstone yard between the Smials and the stables, entering the Smials through one of the ground-floor entrances and carrying their burdens on to the kitchens for washing. Other workers began to collect and carry off chairs, some belonging to the Smials and others borrowed from the townsfolk of Tuckborough or the surrounding farms. Eventually Regi's chair and the table where he sat would be wanted, along with all the tables carried out to the meadow to accommodate many more hobbits than would fit in the great room. Despite the enormous size of the Great Smials' banquet hall, suited to Convocations of Tooks and banquets and balls and other gatherings, many more Shire-folk had attended this particular gathering than would even begin to fit therein. 

At least the weather had cooperated. Though his plans had included setting up pavilions in the event of inclement weather, none had been needed. In the end, the canvas structures had remained furled in their storage spaces, and setting up tables and benches and chairs, and laying out cloths for the overflow crowd to sit on the grassy field, had gone faster than anticipated since no workers had to be spared to erect the pavilions. Disassembling the seating for the convocation should go equally quickly. 

And so, Regi thought incongruously, idly watching the efficient bustle on all sides of where he sat, the ongoing drought that is currently threatening the crops and grazing lands has its uses after all. 

'Sir,' a quiet voice spoke at his elbow. The Steward looked around to see Sandy, the Thain's personal hobbitservant. The hobbits of the Thain's escort loomed behind him, seeming taller and bulkier in contrast to the slight, unassuming fellow. 'The Thain sent me,' Sandy added in explanation, and nodded at the pile of coins still filling the Thain's recently vacated place at table. 

Well, yes, it wouldn't do to just leave the coins sitting there, now would it? 

Regi rose from the table. He offered to help, but Sandy thanked him and told him they had it sorted. The hobbitservant seemed to have everything well in hand. In short, at a quiet word from Sandy, the escort took up the tablecloth from all sides and hefted the heavy collection of coins between them. Regi sat down again to wait for them to return for the other tablecloth-full of coins.

After Sandy and his helpers returned for the rest of the unexpected bounty, Regi followed them and their burden – blessing, rather he told himself – into the Smials, to be safely tucked away in an out-of-the-way storehole until the windfall could be transported to the hidden storage-hole secreted in the high Green Hills that had once upon a time held the wealth of the Tookland. At least, until Mistress Lalia, or her son Thain Ferumbras, had spirited the treasure away to another location. Or perhaps the two of them had conspired together to make the Treasury disappear. Or – and the thought was both inconceivable and unsurprising – perhaps they'd managed to squander all of Tookland's wealth after old Thain Fortinbras died.

Regi wouldn't have put it past Lalia the Fat, once her husband was no longer there to restrain her worst impulses, to spend recklessly, indulging herself and her son and her favourites amongst the Smials Tooks. And after Lalia died, well, Ferumbras had paid more time and attention to the pastime of fishing than to the business of Tookland. Had anyone at all been paying attention to income and expenditures? What had Regi's father Adelard, the previous Steward under Ferumbras and then Paladin, been thinking?

After Ferumbras died, Paladin and Adelard had ridden to the hidden storage-hole that had guarded the Tooks' treasure for uncounted years.

Only to find the treasure gone. Had it been stolen? They found no evidence of such a catastrophe. Had it all been spent? There seemed to be no way of knowing.

When Paladin had succeeded Ferumbras, Adelard had advised him to continue in Ferumbras's footsteps as if nothing had changed. He couldn't say what had happened to the Treasury. He'd done his best to keep the ledgers over his time as Tookland's Steward – but he'd admitted to Paladin, and later to his son Regi, how he was haunted at the possibility that Lalia had withheld information about her own spending. 

When it came to official business, Adelard had always been required to consult Lalia and, later, Ferumbras on anything that needed to be done that would incur any expense. Lalia had always argued about the cost, while Ferumbras had waved a hand and told him to do what needed doing. Adelard regularly informed Lalia (and later Ferumbras) of costs incurred, and about a week after one of these meetings, he'd receive the funds he'd requested for further dispersal.

In practical terms, after Fortinbras died, Adelard had no direct access to the Tooks' stockpile of gold and silver.

In practical terms, after Ferumbras died, the Tooks' stockpile of gold and silver was gone, well out of Paladin's reach.

Then, after Paladin died... well, although young Thain Peregrin was in similar straits to the situation his father had faced, he'd made a clean breast of it to the entire Shire, for all practical purposes.

'Here we are,' Sandy said, opening the door and waving the tablecloth-and-more-bearing escort through.

Regi entered behind them. He might have expected dust and cobwebs in this unused storeroom deep in the Great Smials, but the room had been thoroughly swept and dusted. Eight small chests were lined up beside a table equipped with a paper and pencil and several stacks of small, empty sacks. 'Copper,' Sandy said pointing to the first five chests, going on to identify the last three chests as intended for silver coins.

'And gold?' Regi said, eyebrow raised. The number of gold coins mixed in with the unexpected shower of generosity resting in the tablecloth would probably not fill a single desk drawer.

The hobbitservant shrugged. 'It was easier to bring in eight chests of the same size,' he said, 'than it would have been to try and estimate sizes.' He sighed. 'I'm sure we'll have no trouble with the coins overflowing, not even the coppers.'

And so Sandy and the escort counted out the coins from the tablecloth and sorted them by the hundred into sacks. Each sack was carefully tied closed to secure the contents and then laid in the appropriate chest. As they worked, Regi tracked the amounts on the paper until every coin had been accounted for. Lastly, he added up the totals for future reference and nodded to himself, his cheeks puffing as he blew out a suppressed breath. Not quite what we'd anticipated from the All-Shire Race prizes, but better than we were when the day started... when we were facing the weeks from now until harvest with nothing but the taste of dust in our mouths.

Aloud, Regi told Sandy and his helpers, 'I thank you.' To Ferdi, the head of escort, he added, 'Do you think we need to put a guard on the door?'

'This deep in the Smials?' Ferdi said. He rubbed his chin and gave the matter some thought. 'I doubt any Outsiders could find their way to this place.'

Regi nodded. Folk living in the main Shire, including Tooks, generally saw locks as unnecessary, even pretentious. The fact that Bucklanders kept their doors locked at night was a black mark against them in the eyes of most Tooklanders. 'True,' he answered. 'Still...'

Though the hobbits of the escort had been in the thick of the Tookish resistance to Lotho and his ruffians, all of them looked surprised at the Steward's caution. Regi's next words cleared their confusion. 'Peregrin is in enough trouble as it is, what with folk suspecting he had something to do with the disappearance of the Treasury. If, for any reason, the count should go short...'

Now it was the head of escort's turn to nod thoughtfully. Ferdi stroked his chin, exchanged glances with Hilly and Tolly. 'If you expect me to set a guard on this door and keep a Messenger at the Thain's beck and call...'

'What if we were to stack these chests in the Thain's suite?' Regi said. 'Someone's almost always there, and the Messenger standing outside the door to the Thain's study can see anyone who goes in or out of the apartments...' In the back of his mind, he was thinking, We need to add more hobbits to the Thain's escort. Paladin cut back on the number to save on costs, but is it truly a savings if the hobbits of the escort are run ragged and cannot fulfil their responsibilities? He suppressed a wry smile at the further thought of Pippin's reaction to expanding the escort.

'If that will set your mind at ease...?' Ferdi said dubiously. To Hilly and Tolly, he said, 'You take one chest between you to begin with; Reg and I will take another.'

'Wait...' Regi forestalled him. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket, scooped the small pile of gold coins on the table into the square of cloth, and tied up the corners. He nodded to Ferdi to open the nearest chest and deposited the bundle on top of the coins, followed by the paper containing the totals. He slipped the pencil in his pocket. Waste not, want not.

'Four trips will do it,' Regi said. Eight chests of coin, mostly copper, to see Tookland through until harvest-time. Will it be enough? It'll have to do.

When they entered the Thain's quarters, Sandy directed Tolly and Hilly to lay their heavy chest of copper coins against a blank space of wall in the large sitting room just inside the entrance, and Ferdi and Regi to set their chest beside it. After three more trips there and back again, depositing four chests in each of the two stacks, the hobbitservant laid an embroidered cloth over the two top chests. 'There,' he said. 'One would think they've been there all this time.' 

*** 

Author's note: Some ideas were drawn from 'A Conspiracy Unmasked' in The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

*** 

Chapter 3. Fare-thee-well (...and Good Riddance)

That evening saw the great room's tables and chairs restored to their places and filled almost to capacity, this time for a farewell party in honour of the hobbits who would be departing on the morrow. With the exception of Meriadoc Brandybuck, the Heads of all the Great Families had departed soon after the convocation had ended earlier in the day. In contrast to those who lived in the main part of the Shire, the Bucklanders faced two days' travel to reach their home soil once more. General wisdom dictated staying over in one of Tuckborough's inns or in the guest quarters at the Great Smials and starting fresh – and early – the following day in order to reach the half-way point at a reasonable hour. 

Although Merry and Estella had accepted Pippin's invitation to stay on for a few days after the convocation, the bulk of the Bucklanders who had come in response to the Thain's summons were making ready to depart and travel to Buckland in the morning. Travelling with them would be a party of Tooks: the Thain's chief engineer, Aldebrand, who was in charge of any project involving digging and building, and four of the hobbits who worked under him. They would spend some time in Buckland adding to the knowledge they had already gained from Merry's engineers regarding the uses of black powder. From what Aldebrand had told the Thain and Steward after returning from Buckland to attend the convocation, the stuff would be eminently useful for blasting holes in hillsides made of rock that was nearly as hard to move and as stubborn as the Tooks themselves. 

In contrast to the generally negative opinion that many Tooks and Tooklanders held regarding Buckland and the hobbits who lived there, the Tookish engineers didn't seem at all reluctant about leaving again for the Wilds to be found on the wrong side of the Brandywine River. For example, Everard, Steward Reginard's younger brother, had an eminently reasonable explanation for his willingness to leave the Tookland for the Wilds of Buckland instead of staying sensibly at home. He had gained his Tookish cousins' grudging acceptance by referring to the generous table Master Meriadoc was known to keep, even "mighty generous", in the tradition of one of Merry's predecessors, Gorbadoc Brandybuck. That said, Everard was no "fool of a Took"; he proclaimed himself not at all tempted to go out boating on the River as Frodo's parents had famously – or, rather, infamously – done, to their doom. Not to mention which had something to do with Frodo himself sailing away on a ship, never to be seen again, in the privately (and not so privately) expressed opinion of many Tooks. 

'So I have no doubt that you'll come back again,' Regi told his brother after the farewell supper ended, slapping the budding apprentice engineer on the shoulder. 

'Rather like a bad penny,' Tolly was heard to mutter to Ferdi, for the gathering was a muddle of hobbits of rank in the Smials and "working hobbits", what with Everard being obliged to balance between the two groups. Working hobbits (some of whom, it must be admitted, were descendants of the Old Took who either chose freely or were forced by circumstances to earn their bread) and members of the gentry might rub elbows in living together under the shelter of the Great Hill. Nonetheless, they certainly did not mingle casually, what with the gentry's need to "keep up appearances" and the working hobbits' need to assert their proud independence and ability to stand on their own two good feet – not to mention the merciless chaffing that one who stepped out of his place would inevitably receive from his erstwhile fellows. 

Rather than taking umbrage at this sentiment of Tolly's, Everard turned away from his brother towards the small group of hobbits of the Thain's escort, comprising Ferdi, Tolly, and Tolly's younger brother, Hilly, and laughed. 'Ra-ther!' he said cheerily. 

Thain Peregrin, standing uncomfortably on the "gentry" side of the room (for the two groups, even when joining together to farewell their departing friends and cousins, somehow maintained the distinction even without necessarily thinking about it), hefted his already half-drunk-up pint of ale. 'To bad pennies!' he declaimed. 

The company as a whole broke into laughter, lifted their glasses, and echoed the toast before taking hearty swallows. 

Pip had a way of seeing past divisions and distinctions and – even more difficult – getting others to set aside their differences and unite as if under some wizard's enchantment, Regi mused as he lifted his glass and drank to the young Thain's comical toast with the rest of the hobbits gathered there. This unique quality among the volatile Tooks was one of many reasons why he'd thrown all his influence and staunch support behind installing Pippin as Thain after old Paladin breathed his last. 

Truth be told, Pippin's supporters had been rather thin on the ground at the beginning, comprising Reginard in his official capacity as Paladin's Steward, along with Mistress Eglantine. Some attributed Eglantine's partiality to Pippin being her son, of course, but Regi knew better, having worked closely with Thain and Mistress throughout Paladin's years as Thain, and even more closely with Eglantine over the past year, when ill health had confined Paladin to his bed more often than not. The Mistress was a force to be reckoned with. And Diamond and young Faramir joined the party of Pippin-supporters, of course, upon arriving at the Great Smials. 

By now, Regi hoped that at least some Tooks might be starting to warm to the Succession. After Pippin and his party had returned from the Lithedays celebrations and All-Shire Race held at Michel Delving, Ferdi and those serving under his leadership had magnified the respectful mien that the escort customarily employed into downright deference directed at the young Thain. The behaviour of the hobbits of the escort had at first appeared rather calculated, even to the mind of the unimaginative Steward, but they persisted in their efforts, and their continuing show of staunch support was now having an impact. Because of the Tooklanders' high regard for the escort as some of the finest archers in the land, others were beginning to follow suit, or so it seemed to Regi. Among those who treated Pippin with elaborate courtesy these days were Healer Woodruff and her staff (though considering the Tooks' feelings about healers, perhaps their support was rather more of a liability than an asset), as well as the chief engineer and his assistants and apprentices. It was a pity that Aldebrand and his hobbits were again departing for the Wilds of Buckland, which would cut the number of Pippin's supporters in the Smials proper nearly in half. 

As he continued to ponder the course that lay before them, Regi contemplated the string of tiny bubbles rising in his glass, paying little attention to the cheerful talk that swirled around him. As a matter of course, his younger brother and their cousins did not count his apparent absorption against him. It was only natural that he'd be sombre in light of Everard's departure in the early hours of the morning. 

Yes, Pippin has a difficult row to hoe, or so Reginard had overheard Mayor Sam say to the Master of Buckland before the Gamgees departed for Hobbiton. Regi had also overheard Master Meriadoc's response, describing the Tookland's plight, as well as the situation facing her Thain, as "having to row upstream without any oars in the oarlocks". Both of the Travellers had shaken their heads and then, just before climbing up on the waggon seat to drive his family homewards over the fields that lay between Tuckborough and Bywater, Samwise had added that he had complete confidence in Merry's younger cousin. (As did Regi, for what it was worth.)

Merry had hugged Samwise, clapped him on the back, and wished him a safe journey. Only Regi had been close enough to hear their parting words: 'Keep an eye on him for me?' 

'As often as I can.' And Sam had turned away and clambered up onto the seat beside Rose. He took the reins from his wife's hands, slapped them on the ponies' backs, and called, 'Get up there!'

Pippin had lifted his hand in the air and called, 'Don't take any bad pennies!'

Merry had moved to Pippin's side and slapped him on the back before farewelling the Mayor with 'Don't hoe any crooked rows!'

But Samwise had surprised them both by laughing and calling over his shoulder, 'Make sure you've got oars in the oarlocks before you cast off any ropes!'

As Regi had turned back to the Smials, he'd heard a befuddled Pippin asking Merry, 'What does he know about oars – and oarlocks?'

To which Merry had simply answered, 'Well he knows about ropes, at any rate!' And Pippin had laughed.

As if an echo of the young Thain's laughter, a burst of laughter following on the heels of another joke recalled Regi from his remembering. Even as he turned his attention back to the present celebration, however, he shuddered at the thought of oars and oarlocks, in general, and boats, in particular. 

Everard shouted, 'Not taking cold, I hope, Brother!' 

'Not as cold as that great menace of a River you'll soon find yourself on the wrong side of!' Regi returned. 'And you had better not keep quaffing the Thain's best brew if you know what you're about. You'll have a big head in the morning as it is.' 

'We'll be stopping off at the Cockerel halfway,' Aldebrand, the Thain's Chief Engineer said. 'Adding insult to injury, as it were.' 

'Best beer on the Stock Road,' Samenthal, Aldebrand's Chief Assistant reflected. 'Why, I'd call that a blessing, instead. Almost worth the journey in itself.' 

'And of course we'll have to stop at the Golden Perch; why, it's right on the way to the Bridge!' 

'It'll take you forever to get to Buckland at that rate! Why don't you take the Ferry instead?' Pippin said in feigned astonishment. Or perhaps not so feigned. 'Why, you'll be able to cut hours off your travelling!' 

At his cousins' outburst of derision and scorn (for the ale had flowed freely this night, and the farewellers were acting more like cousins at this moment than Thain and Tooks), the young Thain lifted his glass in a silent toast to all and sundry and then sipped, and Regi, because he was standing at Pippin's side, heard the hobbit say, more quietly, 'Your loss, then,' though the others likely did not. 

'To the Crowing Cockerel!' Samenthal said, raising his glass. 

'To the Cockerel!' everyone in the crowd answered. 

And it seemed that Pippin was not to be outdone. 'To the Golden Perch!' he called.

His Tookish cousins appeared to forgive him his mention of such a thing as a ferry as they all raised their glasses and drank to the Thain's latest toast. 

Regi drank with the rest in response to both toasts, shrugged as if consigning his younger brother to his fate – an early start and two days in the saddle after an evening of hearty feasting and drinking. Then he sank back into his thoughts, ignoring the talk and laughter that continued. 

There were, of course, varying degrees of suspicion and Talk floating around the Smials, to the effect that young Pip had somehow managed to misplace Tookland's treasury or had perhaps gambled it all away at the All-Shire Races. 

The situation couldn't be helped. The Tooks loved their Talk, the wilder the better, it seemed. While they might admire the courage Pip had shown, standing before the gathered assembly that had come to hear his pronouncement, they certainly had little trust that he'd be able to lead them through this crisis. In that light, it was a good thing that the Tooks and Tooklanders trusted their Steward, Regi supposed, though he'd have to watch his step or he might well find himself proclaimed Thain in Pippin's place, if some one or another influential Took could figure out how to legitimately set aside the Succession. And, considering how he'd be hoeing the same blasted row with a broken, dull, rusty hoe that Pip was currently stuck in, well, he didn't care to contemplate his homeland's prospects if worse came to worst. 

Pip reached the end of a rather involved story, and the entire room erupted in laughter, including those that Regi had heard arguing bitterly against Pippin as Thain not so long ago. The jest must have been quite clever, indeed, but then, the young Thain had a way with words. Regi laughed, too – heartily, even, though he'd not heard a word of Pip's tale. His support for the Thain must be seen as unwavering and obvious in all things – including the jokes he had not heeded. In his estimation, Pippin was the Tookland's only hope at this juncture. 

For they would need some sort of magic to unite the recalcitrant Tooks in any venture going forward. Ferumbras had managed the People and the land through benign neglect. By contrast, Paladin had, in a sense, had the advantage of circumstances in the form of a common enemy – Lotho's louts, like a blight overrunning the Outer Shire but kept at bay by means of Tookish stubbornness and determination. 

The former farmer's good sense had helped Paladin resist Lotho's importunings and flattery and outright attempts at bribery and bullying. In addition, he'd marshalled his forces with a canny understanding that still made Regi, unimaginative hobbit that he was, marvel. 

Then, when things had been looking their darkest, Regi had beheld Pippin, returned from the dead, grandly escorted by half a dozen Bywater lads on ponies and clad as if he had stepped out of a book of knightly deeds. Taller than Regi he'd grown, though only a year earlier, before the three cousins and that gardener-fellow had left the Shire for the Outlands, Regi had been able to look down his nose at his young cousin. He had watched in wonder as Pippin, still only a tween by reckoning, organised the Tookish archers in the courtyard of the Smials into orderly ranks, somehow giving off the impression that he was an old campaigner, one who'd seen numerous battles and knew what was what. 

He had heard Pippin call, 'Now gather round!' The archers had crowded closer, circling the tween, though some of them grumbled – What did a tween think he was doing, issuing orders to seasoned resisters who had kept Men twice their size at bay these past months? 

Regi had watched as Pippin stood, waiting, his head high, his gaze clear and confident in the light of the torch held by Hilly, standing beside him, as he turned to survey the surrounding archers. 

And as Regi watched and listened, in growing astonishment, the grumbling had died down, melted away as the morning frost before the Sun's assault. Eventually, silence reigned, the courtyard grown so quiet that the guttering of the torches in the slight breeze was clearly heard. 

Regi had watched Pippin turn a full circle as if to take in every single archer; it had felt as if Pip was taking in every face, every eye that was fixed upon him, even every thought in the archers' heads. And then the tween stood still, set his feet in a battle stance, and stood even taller, somehow, though he already stood a head above all but the tallest of the archers (and topped even them by several inches). And Regi (like the rest, truth be told) found himself holding his breath as the son of the Thain opened his mouth and began to speak. 

In truth, Regi did not remember all the words the hobbit had spoken. There was something of magic in the moment, as if the tween cast a glamour over the crowd, an enchantment woven of mingled confidence and determination. Pippin had spoken, and the Tooks had responded. He had spoken as if winding up a spring in a Dwarf-crafted toy, winding it up, and winding and increasing the tension with a skill and subtlety that Regi did not register at the time and could barely credit in retrospect. Where had a mere tween learnt the art of putting heart into a body of soldiers facing the daunting prospect of larger, stronger foes? 

The son of the Thain spoke, and the Tooks nodded agreement. He spoke further, and some of the Tooks waved their bows in the air in response. He called out a question, something about how the Tooks had kept the ruffians from crossing the border, and a dozen voices called answers from the heart of the crowd, and Pip had nodded in his turn. 'Good for the Tooks!' he had shouted, turning in a circle again to take in all the archers and drawing a roar from the crowd. 

Regi had watched Pippin move through the crowd and vault lightly into his saddle at the head of the company, pull a bright sword from its sheath and wave it above his head, gleaming with deadly promise in the torchlight. 'We march!' Pippin had cried. 'We march to throw the refuse out of the Shire, for Good!' 

The cheer that had gone up had sent a shiver down Regi's spine – in a good way, as for the first time in months, he'd allowed himself to hope that, yes, the Shire-folk might have a future after all. 

When the company of Tookish archers reached Bywater, Regi had been aware of the Brandybuck, first of all – his cousin Merry, also newly returned from the dead. The mail-clad Bucklander would command the coming battle, it seemed. Upon the arrival of the Tookish force, he laid his plans quickly, conferring with Pippin and an older hobbit in farmer's clothing named Cotton and the leaders among the five score of Tooks who had marched to Bywater's aid, including Reginard. 

Pippin had accepted Merry's direction unhesitatingly (But then, hasn't he always? a cynical part of Regi had said, deep in the back of his head), and following his lead, the Tooks carried out the Brandybuck's orders in taking their places. Merry had split the archers into three parts: he split four score of the archers into two bodies who'd take cover in the hedges lining both sides of the road. The fifth score of archers – with Regi commanding – had charge of 'shutting the barn door to keep the cows from escaping', as Pippin put it cheerily, sparking laughter in his hobbits, even under these grim circumstances. The tween seemed to be in many places at once in the whirlwind of preparation, while Merry took his stand in the midst of the archers lining one side of the road, overseeing the whole and calling orders to Pippin as the two cousins organised the defence, supplementing the Tookish archers with local townspeople armed with a variety of implements and improvised weapons such as hayforks and shovels. 

Then the ruffians had arrived. Regi's score of archers boxed the oncoming ruffians in by pushing waggons they'd hidden in a field into the road to block escape; then they took up their bows and nocked arrows to the strings, grim-faced and ready. Merry, as Commander, informed the ruffians that, as they could plainly see, they had walked into a trap, and ordered them to put down their weapons. Such was his tone that a few of the Men began to obey, only to be set upon by their fellows. 

Regi's memory of events became somewhat muddled then. A score or more of the Men had charged the waggons. Regi remembered shouting orders to his archers whilst he aimed and loosed his own arrows, one after another, hearing the deep thrum of five-score Tookish bowstrings all around him, seeing some of Lotho's Men stagger and fall... but other Men pressed forward in desperation, in fury, in a killing rage... 

Under such an overwhelming force of taller foes, Regi's archers were forced backwards after firing several volleys of arrows, overcome by the Men's strength, size and numbers. He brought them quickly back in order even as some Men broke free, ordering half of his remaining archers to face inward to contain the rest of the Men still within the trap, and the other half to turn outward to send wickedly-tipped hunting shafts in pursuit of the fugitives. Two of the fleeing Men fell to those arrows as the initial body of escaping ruffians scattered in the direction of the Woody End. 

At that juncture, two of Regi's archers, close cousins of his, lay crumpled on the ground and would never rise again. After he deemed the remainder of the escaping ruffians were beyond bowshot, Regi called his hobbits to face inward again to cover the Men still trapped in the circle, wavering as if stunned by the turn that circumstances had taken. But Regi fell to his knees to check first one and then the other of his fallen cousins. 

'Are they dead?' someone called, his voice thin. 'Ash...' 

Regi shook his head in answer and heard sharp intakes of breath from some, sobs from others. And then Pip's voice rang out, piercing but filled with confidence: 

Hold! Stand fast! Stand fast!

Through the rushing sound in his ears brought on by his grief, Regi heard the sound of a horn – Merry's horn, he determined later – clear and loud and demanding. Echoes of answering horn calls sounded in the distance. Then Pip spoke again, as easily as if no tears marred his cheeks at seeing his cousins cut down. The words that emerged were as confident as before, spoken boldly enough to put heart into the timidest hobbit: They won't get far! Grimly, the son of the Thain added, All that country is alive with our hobbits now! The remaining Tooks waved their bows in the air and cheered, along with the hobbits of Bywater interspersed in their ranks. 

Seeing their foes apparently distracted, the mob of Men still trapped in the lane began to climb the barrier and the banks, quickly bringing the hobbits' attention back to their own troubles. Bows sang and axes swung; the battle became a confused blur punctuated by desperate fighting that seemed to go on forever... until it suddenly ceased... all the combatants seemingly turned into statues, silent and frozen in place, the living momentarily rendered as motionless as the bodies, large and small, strewn around them.

Those were the memories that Regi took away from the Battle of Bywater. Sometimes, though, he thought about seeing Frodo Baggins spoil the aim of one of Regi's archers who would otherwise have shot a Man who'd laid down his weapons. His Baggins cousin had saved the Tooks from the soul-killing act of slaying unarmed foes, and Regi blessed him for it, wherever he might be now. 

Regi had barely registered the presence of that gardener-fellow at Frodo's side, sword in hand, as if guarding his Master from harm, though the Steward now knew him slightly better as Mayor Samwise. He could, if he tried, recall something of the scene when nearly seventy of the ruffians lay dead on the field and the hobbit combatants encircled about a dozen survivors in a wide ring. Burying the dead hobbits, binding up the wounds of the thirty or so who were injured but living, and the nightmare journey with the slow waggons, bearing the injured and wounded back to the Smials, those memories he did his best to forget. 

But the Steward's memories of Pippin in the midst of the battle stood out brightly from his blurred recollection of the aftermath. The tween had seemed to be everywhere in and among the Tookish archers, calling encouragement and direction, bringing fresh energy and purpose in that nightmare scenario, stiffening and strengthening the increasingly desperate wall of defenders. Near the end of the battle, the son of the Thain had charged into the deadliest part of the fray, shouting, Stand fast! Fight on, Tooks! Fight on! – with Merry beside him, both of them dealing death with their shining blades. 

Regi remembered being nearly overcome a second time, wavering in the face of an overwhelming force – too many Men, energised by the shouts of their fellows who had broken through on the west side, who now advanced on his depleted body of archers despite the hail of Tookish arrows that cut a dreadful swath. The archers around Regi were giving way before the onslaught, beginning to fall back under the unrelenting pressure... Even Regi had been forced back a step, still defiantly drawing his bow, though the weapon was nearly useless at such close quarters, as he gave up yet another step in reluctant retreat. 

At that critical point, something in Pippin's voice, some magic, some spell had strengthened him again; taking the arrow he'd nocked in a firmer grip, he slashed at the club-swinging Man coming at him. At first he was merely seeking survival; then with growing ferocity after he ducked the swing of the club and stabbed the Man holding it, Regi wielded the wicked, razor-sharp hunting barb that tipped the slim wooden shaft as if it were a spear or rapier. He had a vague impression of the archers around him doing the same, and somehow... the thin line of Tooks held. 

Thus, Reginard, Steward of Tookland, would never forget how Pippin's leadership had tipped the balance between disaster and victory. 

'Regi? Another glass to see us off?' Ev'ard's voice broke into his older brother's thoughts.

The Steward shook his head. 'I've had enough, I think,' he said. He raised his nearly empty glass to Everard. 'Safe journey,' he intoned, 'and may the smell of a good supper greet you upon your homecoming.'

'I'll drink to that!' Everard said cheerily and clinked his glass against Regi's.

After drinking their private toast, the brothers set their glasses down on the nearest table and exchanged a back-thumping hug.

'You take care o' yourself, and that feckless young Thain,' Everard said.

Regi shrugged. 'He can't be half as dangerous as fooling about with quantities of black powder,' he replied.

'I wouldn't want to bet on that,' Everard said.

But all Regi had to say to him was, 'Good night, Brother. I'll be in the courtyard all too soon to see the lot of you sorry engineers off on your way.'

*** 

Author's note:

Some details in this chapter come from 'The Scouring of the Shire' in J.R.R.Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring.

***