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 obvious despite his best efforts to maintain a neutral expression, 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, along with several brawny doorwards. '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, those with him 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 hobbits 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.' He turned to the doorwards, thanked them for their help, and dismissed them.

As Regi watched, 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. Throughout the process, 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.

*** 

Chapter 4. The Treasure-Hoard of the Thain

A few days later, Pippin found himself almost relieved to be seeing the last of the Brandybucks on their way – meaning Merry and Estella, of course, who'd lingered after the rest of the contingent had taken their leave. 

The young Thain found himself thinking about the small group of Tooks that had departed for Buckland immediately after the convocation, travelling with the bulk of the Bucklanders who had attended: the Thain's chief engineer, Aldebrand, in charge of any project involving digging and building, and four of the hobbits under him, with the aim of gaining additional insight into the uses of black powder. The Tookish engineers hadn't seemed at all reluctant about leaving again despite the general Tookish opinion of Buckland and the hobbits who lived there. 

Pippin didn't blame his cousins for their eagerness. They had spent most of the spring and early summer learning the properties of black powder. Before sailing away, Gandalf had shared the secret of the stuff with the Brandybucks, that the art of fireworks should not be lost from Middle-earth with his departure. The Bucklanders had been practising and refining their knowledge ever since, including the use of the powerful substance to blow great holes in earth and rock. Pippin still found it astonishing that the wizard had identified the descendants of the Oldbucks as the most appropriate keepers of such knowledge amongst all the Peoples of Middle-earth. But then, he had to admit that Merry was one of the steadiest fellows of his acquaintance. The Brandybucks evidenced a certain quality of solidity, balance, and good sense, perhaps because their ancestry mixed the blood of all three ancient groups of hobbits: Fallohides, Harfoots and Stoors.

Even now, the Brandybucks kept the secret close. Though Pippin had persuaded Merry that the trained engineers amongst the Tooks could use black powder responsibly, all manufacture of the stuff was confined to Buckland, and the Brandybucks continued to tightly control access to the product to only those Tooks and Brandybucks who were trained in the art of digging and delving.

Thus, it was a major concession on the part of the Brandybucks that shortly before Midyear's Day, Pippin's engineers had returned from Buckland bearing quantities of the powder in barrels. In briefing the Thain and Steward on all he'd learned, the Thain's chief engineer had confessed that he craved a few weeks of additional training to safely use the dangerous stuff. After this consultation with Aldi, Pippin had ordered that the barrels be stored in the Tookland's deepest and most secure store-hole – near the Smials, but not too near. He'd also taken Aldi's caution to heart and arranged a further visit for him and several of his subordinates. The rest, of course, were needed on digging projects that must be completed before winter set in. 

From the way the farewelling Tooks had carried on, one might have thought that going to Buckland was more dangerous than staying home and dealing with the explosive powder, although only half-trained. But then, the Tooks had a long history with the Brandybucks. Their general knowledge of the black powder, at this point in time, mainly concerned Gandalf's fireworks. How could something so beautiful be deadly dangerous? But that is the way of things, Pippin thought to himself. The less the Tooks know about a matter, the more they think they have to say. And I've seen an awful lot of deadly but beautiful things in my short life... including the Lady Galadriel and Queen Arwen... and my own Troll's Bane when freshly polished.

Pippin had heard too many Tooks asking one or another of the group of Tookish engineers departing for Buckland two days earlier, 'Are you sure you want to go back to the Wilds o' Buckland?'

Now he stood in the rosy light of early dawn in the courtyard of the Smials, one hand grasping Merry's reins as Merry mounted his pony, and laughed up at his cousin in the saddle. 'Are you certain you want to go back to the Wilds o' Buckland?' he said, echoing those earlier farewellers. 

'Completely!' Merry responded in the same vein. 'Why, if I stay any longer, I might become so accustomed to civilisation, I might forget how to cross over the River on a Ferry!' 

'And that would be a bad thing?' Pippin retorted. Seeing the barely concealed concern in his older cousin's eyes, he kept a broad grin on his face. 'Ferries are completely unnatural, as you well know! Give me a good, solid Bridge any day!' 

Estella, for her part, hid a yawn and said bad-temperedly to Merry, 'Bad enough that you rousted me out of bed extra early this morning, that we might make a leisurely ride of it and still arrive at the Cockerel by teatime... but now you make me sit here through hours of farewelling...' 

'It has hardly been hours! The Sun's barely rubbed the sleep from her eyes!' Merry protested. 

'Next time, put a cocklebur under his saddle pad,' Pippin said behind his hand to Estella, who grinned back at him in one of her quicksilver changes of mood as he added, 'That's what I always do.' 

'I'll keep that in mind!' she answered, and turning her pony's head towards the road, she urged the beast into movement, calling over her shoulder, 'Last one to the Cockerel's a mouldy apple!' 

'Can't have that!' Merry cried cheerily, turning his pony to follow as Pippin released his hold on the reins, stepped back and gave the pony a slap on the hindquarters to encourage him on his way. 

'Fair journey!' the Thain shouted to his cousin, and was reassured to see a jaunty wave in return. 

And now to get back to the pressing business of the Tookland, which this day involved putting away in a safe place the unexpected windfall – miraculous blessing was more like it – that had resulted from the outpouring of generosity on the part of so many of the Shire-folk who had attended the convocation. To think of the wonder of that day still took his breath away. Though perhaps, the Thain thought to himself, this was the Outer Shire's way of fulfilling any lingering obligation to the Tooks for throwing the ruffians out and ending the Troubles, even though Pippin himself would have given full credit for it all to Frodo and Merry. 

In any event, Hoard Hill was waiting, ready to be pressed into further service, for it was already sheltering the small remainder of Tookland's supply of ready coin, along with the relatively recently arrived black powder from Buckland. The "treasury" – if one could call it that – had been significantly diminished after Pippin had withdrawn the requisite amount necessary for quarterly salaries and contracted payments and the hefty entrance fees for the All-Shire Race. The generous purses from the Race were supposed to swell the amount even after taking care of several pending obligations. 

They might as well have stayed home from the races. The next infusion of cash would not come until the annual pony sale took place, followed by the Tournament where archers would come from all over the Shire and as far away as Bree to shoot for the golden arrow. They would certainly have to count their pennies between now and then...

At least we have a few pennies to count, bless my fellow hobbits' generous hearts, Pippin thought.

In any event, if all went well this day, Pippin might be able to mix business with a little personal pleasure... if he could only get past Regi's stubborn insistence on upholding tradition, that was. 

Which was not at all as easy as it might be, once he was back in the study, confronting his Steward. 'This deep in the Shire proper, I hardly need an escort to travel a few miles...' 

'Have you forgot that sounder of swine...?' Regi countered. 

Pippin waved a nonchalant hand. 'Which Reni's hunters dispatched, quite handily too as I recall, to the last boar in that sounder. And even with the females farrowing, there have been no reports of wild swine menacing the farmers in the area since the Spring.' 

'Stray dogs...' was Regi's next stock argument. As Pippin had known it would be. This was not the first time they'd had this discussion, nor would it be the last. 

'We've had no reports of sheep-worrying since Ferdi's encounter with that pack of dogs,' Pippin countered. 'He shot the largest of them, and Starfire trampled the most aggressive of the pack under his hoofs, from all reports...' 

'After Ferdi was savaged by the beasts and nearly eaten alive,' Regi said grimly. The head of the Thain's escort, tracking a lost and wandering Faramir over uneven ground, had been set upon by a pack of stray dogs bold enough to pull down his pony. The pack might well have torn both Ferdi and his Dapple to pieces but for the timely intervention of the fiery stallion of Rohan, drawn perhaps by Dapple's shrieks as the dogs attacked her. 'Do you honestly consider that occurrence an argument in your favour?' 

'I'll have my sword,' Pippin began, but his steward interrupted. 

'And you'll have your escort at your side, with their bows in hand.' 

Pippin met his Steward's challenging gaze for a moment before he sighed and capitulated. 'One escort,' he said. 'With his bow in hand.' 

Regi nodded. 'Very good, Sir,' he said, and Pippin had the feeling that the Steward had argued for a full escort for the very purpose of making the ever-present attendance of one hobbit of the escort palatable to the Thain. In other words, Reginard had won the ongoing conflict. Once again. 

Still, I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet, he thought to himself after Regi left to arrange the loading of the pack ponies. Though Pippin had resolved that he would no longer try to manipulate his cousins to do his will, this case hardly fit such a designation, he thought. All he wanted was a little peace and quiet. A little time alone to think without interruption. Was that asking too much?

'Going to Hoard Hill,' he told his head of escort after summoning Ferdibrand to the study. 'I don't like keeping all that coin lying around... it's untidy, and too tempting to spend it all, just sitting there, all convenient and that.' 

Ferdi snorted. 'As if you'd go to the market with the Tookland's entire income, at least until the Tournament and Pony Sale, just to buy a few ribbons and a pocketful of boiled sweets!' 

'It sounds quite tempting at that,' Pippin said. 'And perhaps a carved box to keep all my ill-gotten gains in! Be that as it may, there's no good place to put the stuff here at the Smials, so we might as well make the treasure-hoard of the Thain live up to its name.' 

The treasury was gone, of course. Vanished under Ferumbras, or perhaps the old hobbit's mother Lalia, before him. In the place of Tookland's gold, silver and jewels, someone had substituted sacks full of worthless pebbles in the dusty trunks, barrels and chests stored in the cavern at a little distance from the Great Smials. Ferdi had seen for himself the bags of unremarkable pebbles when Pippin had introduced him to the storage-hole before they'd left for the All-Shire Race. One might even say that Hoard Hill was home to a different sort of treasure these days, considering how the barrels of Tookland's store of black powder far outnumbered the few chests containing gold and silver.

And now, Pippin presented the head of escort with a dilemma he hoped Ferdi would have difficulty solving. 'I'm of a mind to go afoot, this trip, leading the pack-ponies,' he said. 'It's a beautiful day, and I have a yearning to stretch my legs.' He sighed. 'I can't go very far or for a long time, of course,' he said, 'not like Bilbo or Frodo after him, who were often away from home when the urge to wander took them.' 

For want of anything better, such as a Ring that would allow him to disappear at will and escape an escort's notice, he jingled the few coins in his pocket and gazed into a far distance. 'Of course, I'm in good company, considering our family history. Hildifons... Isengar...' 

'None of your nonsense now, cousin,' Ferdi said, but then the head of escort quickly apologised. 'I beg your pardon, Sir, it's not my place...' 

Pippin laughed. 'No,' he said, 'It's quite Regi's place to rein me in when my fancy takes the bit in its teeth and begins to run away with me...' He could see that this further display of whimsy on his part was only increasing Ferdi's discomfort, which might work in his favour, in any event. 

'But here is my quandary,' he went on, suddenly serious. 'As you well know, the treasure-store of the Thain is a tight secret,' he said. 'A handful of hobbits know about the place: the Thain, the Steward, the Chief Engineer, and yourself, as the Head of the Thain's Escort.' 

'True,' Ferdi acknowledged uncomfortably. 

Keep him off balance, that's the ticket, Pippin thought rather uncharitably to himself. But he was fighting for a breath of free air, a chance to think his own thoughts. The Thainship was suffocating him, as it were. The respite at his family's farm after the All-Shire Race had been both blessing and curse: blessing for the rest and restoration it had afforded, and curse for the same reason – for now he could perceive the walls that imprisoned him here at the Great Smials, walls that felt as if they were closing in. 

Ah, for a breath of fresh air! Unencumbered, as it were... 'So,' he forged on. 'I intend to walk, at a pleasant pace, pack a picnic, wander – as if aimless, but not aimless, if you take my meaning, as I will fetch up against Hoard Hill eventually...' 

Ferdi was following this wandering speech with some difficulty, Pippin thought. He was sure his no-nonsense cousin was itching to tell him to get to the point. 

Which Ferdi wouldn't, of course. As a "working hobbit" (despite being a direct descendent of the Old Took), having become a hunter after the loss of his father's fortune, and now head of the Thain's escort, Ferdi knew his place and kept strictly to it as best he could manage. 

'So if you accompany me,' Pippin said now, going to the crux of the argument he'd constructed for just this occasion, 'you'd have to ride a pony, which would quite spoil the feeling of being "just" a hobbit walking-party rather than a serious journey...' 

'I...' Ferdi began, but Pippin held up a hand to stop him. 

'...and yet if you send another of the escort instead, why then, that would be letting another hobbit in on the secret. And you know what they say about secrets shared...' 

'I can walk,' Ferdi said firmly. 

'Well of course you can walk!' Pippin agreed heartily. 'But,' he said, tilting his head to one side and looking at his head of escort consideringly, 'is it fair of me to ask you to walk such a distance? With your leg, and all.' Although Ferdi had healed enough to ride the pony of Rohan in the All-Shire Race after his encounter with the vicious dogs, Pippin had noticed that his limp tended to return towards the end of the day, though most hobbits would have been too polite to mention it. 

'I can walk,' Ferdi repeated, gritting his teeth as he began, until he took himself once more in hand and spoke calmly again. 'If I have to, I can walk the length of Middle-earth and back again, in performing what is only my duty.' His look said, Remember, Thain, that the hobbits of your escort must be able to shoot accurately, ride with skill, and run far.

'And swim, if I have my way,' Pippin said under his breath, to be met with a startled look from his cousin. But his determination that the hobbits of his escort would learn to swim as one of their requirements to serve in that position was neither here nor there, at least at this particular moment. He hadn't quite argued Regi around to this point, but he had every confidence in doing so, no matter how long it took. And with Regi's backing, the hobbits of the escort would not have a leg to stand on between them, in a manner of speaking. Of course, swimming didn't involve standing, as it were. The exercise might even strengthen the muscles in Ferdi's damaged leg. Pippin brightened at the thought. 

As if the lightening of his expression was a signal, Ferdi gave a firm nod. 'Right then,' he said. 'I saw the stable lads bringing out pack ponies just now when Hilly said you'd sent for me. So let us not keep them waiting on the stones. Do you need me to fetch food from the kitchens?' 

'Regi has already seen to all the arrangements,' Pippin said. He gave Ferdi a matching nod, surrendering this round to his steward and head of escort. 'Let us make the best of this beautiful day.' 

Each took hold of two pack ponies, and they started out of the courtyard, in the direction away from Tuckborough, deeper into the wild, high Green Hills to the west of the Great Smials that separated Tuckborough from Tookbank, though they soon turned southward. There were no roads in this part of the country. Some tracks could be found, skirting the side of one great hill or another, most of them leading to isolated farms or cots. But no trail had been deliberately laid down to reach their particular destination. The Thain or Steward's infrequent journeys from the Great Smials to the hidden storage place gave the grass plenty of time to spring up again after the passage of a hobbit and pony or two, leaving no sign of their passage. 

A beaten track might emerge, Pippin mused, now that the engineers had stored Tookland's supply of black powder in the Dwarf-built storage hole in Hoard Hill. In which case, he might need to ask his Chief Engineer to dig another hole for the treasury, such as it was. At the moment, it didn't seem to him to be a pressing need. Especially now, with Strider's Edict in place these past seven years, banning Men from the Shire. He could see no need to go to great lengths to hide the treasure hoard these days. 

The day was turning out quiet, pleasant but boring, quite as Pippin had intended. Tedium, that was just the ticket. If the duty could be made boring enough, Ferdi himself might join Pippin in his campaign to persuade the Steward that an escort was not absolutely necessary every time the Thain stirred from his study. 

'How did you mean to manage it?' Ferdi said out of the blue, when they'd been walking for perhaps an hour. 

'What was that?' Pippin said, jarred out of his thoughts. 

Ferdi's gesture took in the ponies following them. 'Four ponies,' he said. 'How did you mean to manage four ponies by yourself, had your scheme to discourage me from accompanying you been successful? Even though each pony carries two chests' worth o' coins, and each chest is divided between two bags... Did you intend to lift those heavy bags off the ponies by yourself? For as I recall, though I could lift one of those chests by myself if I had to, it seemed much less onerous to carry one chest between two hobbits from the storeroom to the Thain's quarters and from the Thain's quarters to the stables where we loaded the ponies...' 

' 'Twas that obvious, was it?' Pippin said. 

'But your leg,' Ferdi said in a passable imitation of Pippin's voice. 'And you know what they say about secrets shared...' 

'I suppose I was obvious, at that,' Pippin said. He waved his free arm at the surrounding hills. 'But look around us! Calm, peaceful...' He tapped the sword at his side. 'And even if it weren't, well, my faithful Troll-bane here would go a long way to discourage any problem that might pop up.' 

'So how did you mean to manage it?' Ferdi persisted. 'Four ponies?' 

'I would have made two trips,' Pippin said, glancing at his head of escort out of the corner of his eye. 'I'd have had Old Tom put up two of the ponies, to wait until I returned from the first trip. Summer days are long enough, I'd ha' managed to be back from the second journey before darkness fell. And I'd be accomplishing a necessary task into the bargain, giving the Tooks no reason to grumble. I'd make two glorious journeys, there and back again...' He sighed at the thought. 'Just think on it. Having the entire day to myself...' 

'With no escort at your heels,' Ferdi said. 'Clever.' 

'I certainly thought so,' Pippin said. 'Obviously I was not clever enough. Perhaps the Tooks ought to have made you Thain instead.' He almost laughed at his cousin's shudder, but said only, 'At this rate, we'll be back well before teatime.' At the next thought that struck him, however, he couldn't seem to help laughing. 'We could always go "there and back again" after returning to the Smials. Nothing stopping us, if you like.' 

Ferdi had no answer to that. Since he was usually off duty after teatime, unless the Thain had a "little commission" for him to fulfil, going "there and back again" once in a day probably suited him perfectly well. 

They had begun by following a track that wound deep into the hills, crossing shallow streams, passing through copses of trees. In another hour, they'd leave this faint trail and strike out into uncharted, unmarked country. Two or three hours after that, depending on how leisurely their pace was, they'd reach their unremarkable-looking destination, indistinguishable from the surrounding hills, unless one knew what one was looking for. 

The entrance to the store-hole, difficult to make out from the base of the hill, or even half-way up it, was three-quarters of the way from the valley floor to the top of the hill. Even if someone were to happen upon it on accident, if he did not know its secret, he'd think it a simple overhang on an outcropping of rock, a place where a traveller might stop to wait out a storm. An old fire-circle of stones stood there, but to Pippin's knowledge, it hadn't ever seen use. It was simply part of the illusion established by the Dwarves who had delved the place and disguised the entrance. 

Upon reaching the hidden entrance, Pippin nodded to Ferdi. 'You know how to open it,' he said. 'Go ahead.' 

'Don't you want to have a bite to eat first?' Ferdi said, but the Thain shook his head. 

'Not here,' Pippin said. 'We'll take care of this business as quickly as we may and then descend the hill before we have our picnic. Near the bottom of the hill, a spring emerges from the hillside. We can water the ponies and ourselves, then hobble them and let them graze for a bit while we do a bit of grazing ourselves from the veritable feast I am sure my wife personally saw to it was packed up for us.' 

'That's another reason why you need an escort, you know,' Ferdi said, running his hand over the apparently bare dirt and rock and then pressing at a certain spot Pippin had shown him on their previous journey to this place. 

'What's that?' Pippin said, watching the opening suddenly appear as what looked like a solid slab of rock swung inward, leaving a gap four hobbits wide and two high. They led the ponies into the cavern. Pippin fastened his ponies' lead ropes to a heavy metal ring driven into the wall near the door. From his pocket, he took out a cloth and tied it around his face, a precaution against dust. 

Ferdi's voice echoed as he answered. 'Knowing the Mistress, they'll have packed enough food for any four hobbits. At least you have me here to help you get rid of the evidence.' 

Pippin stared at his head of escort in astonishment. Had Ferdi just made a joke? 'Rather like clearing away the signs around the traps you all laid for the ruffians, eh, cousin?' he said at last. Regi had told him recently a few details about the laying of the traps around Tookland's borders in the time of the Troubles, including how he'd helped to brush away marks from the edges of one of the pit traps the engineers had dug to catch unwary Men trespassing on Tookish lands. Of course, these efforts had taken place while Pippin was in the Southlands, "busy about other affairs", or so the Steward put it. 

Ferdi snorted. 'Something like that,' he said. 'We wouldn't want the Mistress to come across any indications that you'd forgotten to eat...' 

'Neither Mistress,' Pippin said grimly, 'meaning the Mistress,' (as the Tooks still referred to Eglantine) 'or my Mistress' (echoing the Tooks' title for Diamond as 'the Thain's Mistress'). Unfortunately for him, his mother had been shocked at his rather unwell appearance when he'd arrived from Buckland. As a result, Eglantine and Diamond had joined together in a conspiracy of sorts to stuff him full of food every time he opened his mouth. 

Ferdi moved towards the torches piled up to the side of the door, but Pippin stopped him. 'I had another little chat with Aldi,' he said, naming the Chief Engineer. 'We'll leave the torches here for an emergency, but we'll use the lanterns tied to the pack saddle of Sun-dancer, here, and even so, we'll keep well to one side, away from the barrels of black powder.' 

'That'll suit me just fine,' Ferdi agreed, and seeing some of the tension go out of his cousin, Pippin realised that the hobbit had been wound tight at the idea of being in the same space as the destructive powder while bearing an open flame. 

He removed the lanterns hanging from the chestnut pony's harness and walked outside the cavern to light them, not wanting to strike a spark within the cavern itself. Returning inside, he pushed against the spot on the wall that would close the massive door, leaving them in darkness lit by two small pools of light. 'Here,' he said, extending one lantern to Ferdi. 

After untying and taking up the leads of his pair of ponies, Pippin led them to the far end of the store-hole, where a jumble of unremarkable chests and barrels waited. Ferdi followed with his pair of ponies.

Upon reaching his destination, the young Thain barked a laugh, and at his cousin's inquisitive look, he said, 'It would have been a marvellous thing, when all these were full of gold and silver and jewels... No one would have known the difference. Now, of course, they look perfectly fit to hold what they do.' 

Ferdi knew from their first visit here together, of course, that most of the chests and barrels contained bags of worthless pebbles. Pippin had joked at the time that they might not be altogether worthless; perhaps he could haul away a waggonload and sell them in the marketplace to line people's garden paths. In fact, he'd told Ferdi as they were walking that he intended to bring four pony-loads of pebbles back with them to the Great Smials for the gardeners' benefit. 

Each chose a chest and opened it, removing bags of pebbles and replacing them with the jingling bags that the ponies carried. 'Just don't forget where we put these,' Pippin warned. 'That's one of the reasons I brought you along, you know, for your phenomenal memory.' 

Ferdi snorted at this, but of course he had no grounds to disagree. Pippin often asked him to repeat back entire conversations from when they had met a farmer or merchant whilst the Thain was out and about, and he had always obliged. Now, to change the subject, he said, 'At least the treasury is looking healthier than it did! Four ponies' worth... why, that's eight of these chests! Four times what cousin Bilbo brought back from his travels.' 

'And worth but a small fraction,' Pippin countered. He waved his hand over the chests they'd just finished filling. 'Mostly coppers, a scattering of silver coin ... while he had an entire chest of gold and another of silver. Still,' he said, his tone taking on a philosophical shade, 'we must take our blessings where we can get them.' 

'What's that?' Ferdi wanted to know. If he thought Pippin was about to call eight chests of mostly copper and a sprinkling of silver a blessing, he was in for a surprise. 

'Why,' Pippin said, 'there's no need for me to cart heavy loads of gold about the countryside! All of Tookland's gold fits neatly in the lower left-hand drawer of the Thain's desk!' 

'None of your nonsense now, Pip,' Ferdi said, and then Pippin saw his head of escort shake his head at himself. The hobbit needs food, he thought. Why, he almost sounds cousinly.

They finished loading the ponies with their near-useless burdens and then brushed at the dust on top of the rest of the chests and barrels so that none stood out from the others as recently disturbed. Though Pippin hardly saw any use in such subterfuge, he had learnt caution through hard experience. This copper (and a sprinkling of silver), along with the proceeds from the upcoming Shire-wide archery tournament and fall pony sale, would have to carry the Tookland through the winter. 

He sighed, and at Ferdi's questioning look, he said, 'It's not as if we won't survive this situation,' he said. 'The Tookland will survive, I mean.' 

'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. 'She's been through worse, after all. Even stood against Lotho's campaign to bring the entire Shire under his thumb, and Saruman after him. Come to think on it, Saruman didn't want any such trifling thing as domination – he meant to see the Shire in ruins, the skies and streams fouled, the Shire-folk crawling in the dust, starving slowly to death...' 

He pressed at the spot on the wall, and the door slid smoothly away from the entrance, flooding the opening with sunshine that was almost stunning in its brightness. 

They led the ponies out, blew out the lanterns and closed up the entrance, concealing the opening from any prying eyes that might happen by. After the lanterns had cooled enough, Pippin hung them from one of the pack saddles once more. 'Well,' he said. 'What are we waiting around a cold fire-circle for? Our feast awaits!'

*** 

Chapter 5. Home Again, Home Again

'What was that, Pip?' Ferdi asked, looking down at the circle of stones to one side. 'You wanted to light a fire?'

'Were you not paying attention?' Pippin asked, turning to scrutinise his head of escort. 'I said our feast awaits!'

'I could have sworn you said something about a cold fire-circle.'

'I did,' Pippin confirmed. 'But it was more to the effect that the fire-circle wasn't doing us much good, cold as it is...'

'And so you were suggesting that we light a fire...' Ferdi repeated.

'No!' Pippin said. 'Quite the opposite, I assure you!' 

'That almost makes sense,' Ferdi said, 'except that it doesn't.' 

Pippin eyed his cousin as he removed the cloth that had protected him from the dust in the store-hole and stuffed it into his pocket. 'We've got to get some food into you,' he said honestly. Ferdi was sounding much less stiff and formal at the moment, and while the younger cousin might have welcomed the change at some point in time, it was enough out of character to concern him now. 'Did you happen to miss breakfast this morning?' he asked. 'Did my summons come as you were sitting down to eat?' The young Thain blinked at this thought, accompanied by the realisation that he'd never taken such matters into consideration before this. Why had it never occurred to him that the hobbits of his escort were flesh and blood, and he had a duty to look out for them just as much as their duty was to look out for him?

'I am perfectly well,' Ferdi said, confirming Pippin's worry. His cousin seldom used four words in speaking escort-to-Thain when three words would do perfectly well.

'Perhaps we should have our picnic here,' the young Thain said, but Ferdi held up a staying hand as Pippin moved to unfasten one of the bags holding food. 

'No, cousin,' the head of escort said stubbornly. 'You said it yourself: the longer we linger on the doorstep, the better the chances that some passer-by will see us here and become curious.' 

'Have a sip of water, then,' Pippin said, pulling one of the water bottles from its hook and extending it to Ferdi. 

His older cousin sighed in exasperation but deigned to drink. Pippin took a few swallows himself before stoppering the bottle and hanging it up again. 'Now,' he said. 'Let us make tracks.'

'Let us not make tracks, rather,' Ferdi said. To Pippin's relief, he sounded more alert than he had earlier. Still, this little trek from Smials to Hoard Hill ought not to have affected his cousin appreciably. Though he'd seemed perfectly fine earlier in the day, perhaps Ferdi was coming down with something? Pippin privately resolved to keep a close eye on his older cousin until they reached the Great Smials.

'As you wish,' the young Thain said in reply. He started walking at an angle down the hillside, his ponies following after. When he turned the corner and began to walk in the opposite direction, zig-zagging down the hill, he breathed a sigh of relief to see that Ferdi was following close behind them.

At last they reached the spring that Pippin remembered. He stopped, encouraged each of his ponies to drink in turn, and then hobbled them. Since both of the ponies he led bore saddlebags filled with food, Pippin removed the bags, settled one pair of bags over each shoulder, and turned away. He found himself staggering a little under their weight as he turned back towards the spring where Ferdi had just finished watering his own ponies. 'Perhaps we ought to have stopped to eat a few times along the way,' he told his cousin. 'I hadn't realised quite how much food they'd packed...!'

'You don't know the half of it,' Ferdi answered. 'My ponies are also carrying a supply of food intended for our refreshment.'

Pippin shook his head in wonder. 'You had the right of it earlier, when you said I needed you with me to help me dispose of all the evidence!'

'I'm not normally one to say I told you so, but...' Ferdi said, raising an eyebrow as he let the sentiment trail off, eliciting a laugh from his younger cousin. 

Pippin had long ago noticed how the prospect of food seemed to dissipate any differences between hobbits. Now he felt himself relaxing as Ferdi, as if without conscious thought, set aside his formal manner.

The cousins sat down on convenient rocks near the spring and began to unpack the bounty that resembled a feast in the great room more than a picnic in the middle of nowhere. 'I don't know about you, but I have an entire cold roasted chicken here,' Pippin said, glancing over at Ferdi. 'I suppose you must have all the accompaniments...'

'Not in this bag, I don't,' Ferdi said, for he had also just unwrapped an entire chicken that had been stowed in one of his ponies' saddlebags. 'One for you and one for me?' He set the chicken down on its waxed cloth and dove into the other bag in the set. 'Ah!' he said. 'Jars of pickled vegetables and fruit preserves, well-wrapped against cracking or breaking...' He pushed gently on the edge of a disk of beeswax affixed to the top of a thick-walled crock and finished in triumph, '...and here is a sealed crock of butter!'

'There has got to be bread somewhere...' Pippin said, turning to his second set of saddlebags. As he'd anticipated, he unwrapped several loaves of bread, along with a small round of cheese of a suitable size for travelling, sausage rolls, fresh apples, and hand-held pastries baked with fillings of brandied fruit. Ferdi's second set of saddlebags yielded similar bounty.

'A veritable feast,' one or the other cousin said, and the two took turns repeating the sentiment as they replenished their energies. Quite companionably, they ate and rested and chatted about inconsequentialities, resembling for the moment more the cousins they were than the roles of Thain and hired hobbit they were obliged to act.

The Sun smiled down on the picnickers from her high place as she climbed ever higher in the cloudless summer sky. Under her gentle warmth, after eating more food in this one sitting than he usually took in over an entire day, Pippin fell asleep.

Ferdi, still eating, looked over in surprise at the sound of a snore from his younger cousin, but then he nodded wisely. 'Walkin' all this way was indeed wearin' on a body,' he said softly, leaving off the carefully formal speech he maintained in the company of hobbits of the gentry. 'And whilst I know verra well that ye walked the length and breadth o' Middle-earth – and back again – in yer younger days, that was afore the Old Gaffer's Friend near-to ripped the lungs out o' yer breast.' He shook his head and took another hearty bite, chewing long and thoughtfully. 

When he finished eating, he gently massaged the aching calf of his injured leg. 'You've walked farther,' he told himself. Though, I have to admit, not after dogs have done their best to tear me to pieces. Still, the muscles are about as healed as they're ever going to be... He dismissed his gloomy thoughts and busied himself with wrapping up and stowing away the uneaten food. After checking on the ponies and refilling the water flasks at the spring, he sat down again to enjoy the sunshine.

Luckily, the meal had finished the work begun by the water Pippin had insisted he should drink before beginning the descent. The plentiful, nourishing food and rest had completely restored the head of escort to his usual state of alertness, and he had no trouble watching over the sleeping Thain and the grazing ponies until Pippin showed signs of wakening again.

'Ferdi?' the young Thain asked. 'How long was I asleep?'

'Perhaps an hour, Sir,' Ferdibrand answered. 'Would you like another bite or sip before we start for home?'

'No, I'm well,' Pippin said. As he stretched and then pushed himself to his feet, he noticed that Ferdi had neatly packed away all the food again while he slept. Likely the hobbit would have retrieved the saddlebags from the ponies and unwrapped everything without complaint if Pippin had said he was hungry, but since the young Thain wasn't hungry, he didn't want to test the idea. Instead, Pippin picked up his water flask, finding it strangely heavy. Removing the stopper revealed that the flask was full to the brim of icy water, no doubt fresh from the spring. 'My thanks,' he said, hefting the flask and meeting Ferdi's eye before lifting it to his lips.

'It was no trouble at all,' Ferdi said. While Pippin was quenching his thirst, Ferdi removed the hobbles from the Thain's ponies and stowed them away. After handing Pippin the ponies' lead ropes, the escort took up the younger cousin's flask and filled it again, then stoppered it and hung it from its hook on Sun-dancer's harness. 'If you're quite ready, Thain...?' he asked, turning back to Pippin.

'Regi told you to have me home before dark, I gather?' Pippin guessed.

Though his head of escort did not deign to answer, the twist of his mouth revealed the truth of Pippin's surmise.

And so Pippin nodded his assent along with unspoken thanks to spare his cousin the trouble of answering. Next, he firmly grasped the lead ropes of his ponies, and began walking ahead of Ferdi rather than simply following the escort's lead. 

Soon he heard Ferdi call to him. 'Are we going the right way?'

'We are!' Pippin called back over his shoulder. He was deliberately choosing a different route than he'd taken previously in returning from the treasure-store. He'd noticed others' preference for walking with the Sun at their backs rather than in their eyes; Regi had done so when he'd introduced Pippin to the storage hole, and Ferdi had also shown this tendency in their earlier visit to the place. It would not do to wear a distinguishable trail on or around this particular hillside. Therefore, the young Thain had purposefully turned his face towards the westering Sun as he began to circle the base of the hill. 

The spring where they'd refreshed themselves emerged from the south side of Hoard Hill, and the Great Smials lay to the north, meaning the large hill they were visiting lay between them and home. Six o' one, half a dozen o' the other, Pippin thought to himself. Whether we skirt the eastern or western side of the hill, we'll still be turning northwards in the end... 

The ground was, perhaps, somewhat more uneven and littered with rocks on this side of the great hill than Pippin remembered from going the other way on his previous visits. That's all to the good, or so it seemed to Pippin's way of thinking. Folk are less likely to go this way for more than one reason – our choice of this route on our homeward trek is a good one even if the other way is smoother and easier! At least, that's the way it ought to work out since we're trying to avoid wearing a path by following the same course every time, coming and going.

After they'd walked for some time, one of the pack ponies behind him stumbled, and Pippin half-turned. 'Steady there, lad! Foot by foot!'

Considering Ferdi's healing leg injury, perhaps they ought to have taken the easier route after all. But it was too late to change courses now, for they had skirted nearly half of the bulk of the hill by this point. They'd soon be able to leave this hill and this broken ground behind them and seek a smoother course leading towards the Great Smials.

At about the same time as he spied what appeared to be a westward-facing opening in the hillside just ahead of him, Pippin heard a startled outcry from his cousin. He turned around and, seeing Ferdi sprawled on the ground, called his cousin's name. Ferdi!

One of the pack ponies, head down, had moved forward to nuzzle the fallen figure. The other danced in place, head high in alarm, rolling its eyes until the whites showed. Pippin dropped his ponies' lead ropes, pushed his way between his astonished pack ponies, and sprinted to his cousin. When he reached Ferdi, the young Thain lunged for the spooked pony's lead rope and then used the rope and his body to force the panicky beast back a step, then two – difficult enough with a calm animal, but as things stood, his cousin, who'd shown no signs of getting up again, was in serious danger of being trampled.

As it was, Pippin cried out when one of the dancing hoofs came down on his own foot. Grimly, he held fast and leaned into the pony, pushing it back one more step before stopping.

Then, 'There now,' Pippin soothed, winding the rope firmly around his fist and exerting a steady pull while patting and stroking the high-flung neck with his free hand. Although he'd often seen Ferdi quickly bring an unruly pony under control, Pippin did not have his cousin's talent or experience with ponies. 'Steady, lad... steady!' he murmured, remembering a scrap of Merry's advice to avoid direct eye contact. 'There you are... naught to harm you here... steadily... steadily...' 

Absurdly, Bilbo's carefully! carefully with the plates! echoed in his brain.

'Steadily,' he said again. Of a wonder, he seemed to have hit on the right word, for the pony was calming under his hand. As the gelding's head began to lower, Pippin softened the pull on the rope but continued his gentle caresses. 'There now,' he said.

At last, the pony, though still tense, stood quietly. 'There you are, my fine fellow,' Pippin repeated. 'Now we have you where we want you, what do we do with you?'

He settled for leading the gelding in a wide circle around Ferdi and tying its rope to the harness of one of his own pack ponies, which had planted their feet when he'd dropped their lead ropes. He breathed a sigh of thanks for his luck; many of the riding ponies in the Great Smials stables had been trained at a young age to stop and stand in place if their rider dismounted or fell. The ponies he'd been leading had obviously been trained for riding as well as carrying a burden.

'Good lad, Sunny,' he praised, patting the chestnut pony. 'You'll find a little extra in your pay packet for this day's work, I trow.' The pony snorted in answer.

He turned and hurried to reclaim Ferdi's other pony before it should tread on him; that would be all they needed! More icing on the cake...

'Come along,' Pippin said to that pony, whose name he'd forgotten. Even nameless, it followed him docilely enough as he led it to the other ponies and fastened its rope to Sun-dancer's harness. 'Now, Sunny,' he said to his improvised hitching post, 'Stay right there and don't take it into your head to wander, if you please...'

To avoid spooking the nervy pony, Pippin walked slowly and quietly as he skirted the ponies to reach the place where his cousin still lay. 'Ferdi?' he said.

'Tripped over a rock,' Ferdi, face-down, muttered into the dirt. 'Of all the...' 

With relief, Pippin realised that the fall had merely stunned his cousin and not left Ferdi unconscious. 'Never mind that now,' he said. 'Let's turn you over.' Suiting action to words, he'd soon helped his head of escort into a sitting position. '...but don't let's try and stand up quite yet,' the young Thain cautioned.

'Why?' Ferdi said irritably. 'Don't tell me you've hurt yourself as well!'

'No, the pony did that for me,' Pippin answered, running his hands down one of Ferdi's legs and then the other. When he reached the damaged calf that still showed lingering evidence of one of the stray dogs that had attacked Ferdi six weeks or so ago, the older cousin sucked in his breath. 'Hurts?' the young Thain asked.

'You're as bad as a healer,' Ferdi growled.

'O no, I can be much worse, I'm sure,' Pippin replied. 'How does it feel? How does it hurt, rather? Like a pull or a tear, or a twist or a break, perhaps a sprain or strain?'

'You have the right of it,' his cousin muttered.

'Which?' Pippin said.

'You're much worse,' Ferdi said.

Pippin didn't immediately take his meaning; he was too busy feeling the painful limb with careful fingers. 'I don't feel a break,' he said. 'Did you turn your ankle, or has it something to do with the teeth of the dog that tried to devour you...?' Belatedly realising his cousin's meaning, he added, 'I'm worse than a healer, you mean...'

'That's what I said!' Ferdi snapped.

Pippin reached out towards his cousin's forehead, stopping short of touching the skin. 'You'll have a lovely goose egg, into the bargain, I'm thinking,' he said. 'Do you feel sick or dizzy at all?'

'Really,' Ferdi said bad-temperedly, 'if this Thain business doesn't work out for you, I think you can find a place working under Woodruff, pestering Tooks abominably!'

Meanwhile, Pippin was silently worrying. Ferdi was sounding all too cousinly at the moment, and not at all formal – and there was no food in sight to explain his temperance. 'I want you to sit here until I come back,' the younger cousin said, pushing himself upright to stand on one foot. He tested his other foot and found he could rest his weight on it, though it protested such treatment. He didn't think the pony had broken a bone. 'That's a mercy,' he muttered.

'What is?' Ferdi demanded.

'Never you mind!' Pippin commanded. 'Just stay put, right there, until I come back!'

'But where d'you think you're going?' Ferdi said.

'You'll know as soon as I do,' Pippin said. To stave off any more outbursts from his cousin, he added, 'I'm just going to check on the ponies...'

And check on the ponies, he did. Sun-dancer and his partner, Silver-toe, had not stirred a single step to all appearances. A scattering of tracks in the dust showed that Ferdi's ponies had been restless but constrained by their tethers.

The sting of sweat, trickling into his eyes, surprised the young Thain. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. 'No shade here,' he said aloud. The sky was blue and clear above, and the Summer day was warming. The air would inexorably continue to grow hotter as the afternoon advanced, and the exposed ground where they were would undoubtedly heat up under the Sun's assault, adding to their discomfort – and even danger.

And then Pippin's eyes fell on the shadow ahead of them, the suggestion of an opening that he'd noticed just as Ferdi had seized his attention by tripping behind him. Shade? he asked himself. Is that too much to ask?

Well, Samwise had asked for light and water upon a time, and got it. You're hardly engaged in a world-saving endeavour, Pippin scolded himself. Still, he couldn't help thinking, My Lady, if it would not be too much to ask... and if you even were to happen to hear me...

He shook his head at himself. None of your nonsense, now, lad, he told himself firmly. He must already be feeling the heat, but it had crept up on him without his noticing until now.

Pippin patted the bay and grey ponies and then the chestnut and white-stockinged ponies' noses in passing as he limped past them, murmuring soothing nonsense. The patches of sweat he could see on their hides confirmed his impression that the day was rapidly warming. 'Shade all around!' he said, much as if he were ordering a round of drinks in the Spotted Duck in Tuckborough. 'I wish I were there this moment,' he muttered. 'A cool mug would be refreshing right about now.'

As if triggered by the thought, thirst struck immediately. 'All right, all right,' Pippin said to himself querulously, turning around and pulling two of their water flasks from their hooks.

He limped back to Ferdi and extended one of the flasks to his cousin. 'Here,' he said.

'You're back,' Ferdi said.

'There and back again, like a bad penny,' Pippin said.

'Or a mad Baggins,' Ferdi responded.

'However,' Pippin said, then pulled the stopper from his flask and took a few swallows.

'However what?' Ferdi wanted to know.

'Exactly,' Pippin answered. 'I'll be right back.'

'Didn't we just have this conversation?' Ferdi said, sounding exasperated.

'Not quite,' Pippin said truthfully. 'In any event, stay right there until I come back.'

'We did just have this conversation,' Ferdi grumbled.

'And we'll continue to have this conversation again and again, at least until we get it right,' Pippin said, affecting cheer. He actually was feeling better, likely from the water he'd just swallowed. On that note, he added, 'Drink some water.'

While Ferdi was so occupied, he limped quietly away.

'It is a cave!' Pippin said, having reached the spot that had caught his attention just before Ferdi's mishap. He ventured into the shadowy space. 'Deeper than an animal's den,' he mused, 'but... the walls are too smooth to be a natural cavern, I think...' He ran his hands over the rocky surface. 'Delved? Must be...'

Had someone begun to delve a smial here and, perhaps finding the rock too stubborn, abandoned the effort? The floor was smooth and level underfoot, and the walls curved to form a rounded ceiling overhead, high enough that even one so tall as Pippin could stand comfortably. Better yet, he found a line of iron rings driven into the wall on one side of the cavern. 'A stables?' he wondered. 'Did the Dwarves who built the store-hole for a long-ago Thain first delve this shelter to keep their ponies safe from predators and inclement weather?' For storms could blow up without warning here in the Green Hill country – and often did.

In any event, this shelter might have been custom-made for their present circumstances.

He returned to check on Ferdi, who'd pulled his shirt over his head to protect his face and neck from the now-merciless Sun as he waited in obedience to Pippin's last order. 'What did we ever do to make her so angry?' the escort said. 'She was all smiles only a few hours ago...'

'We'll have a storm on the morrow, I've no doubt,' Pippin said. 'I've found some shelter,' he added. 'We can wait out the worst of her temper and head homewards when she's lower in the sky and not beating down upon us from directly overhead.'

'Good,' Ferdi said shortly, followed by, 'I can walk. Let's get the ponies under cover.'

Pippin extended a hand to help him up. As the two cousins limped to take up the ponies' lead ropes, he couldn't help laughing. 'We make quite a pair...' he said.

'Quite,' Ferdi acknowledged. 'Good idea, to tie the other two to Sunny to keep them from wandering.'

Upon reaching the cavern, the head of escort was frankly amazed as he entered behind Pippin and saw the line of rings. 'Like one of those stables without box stalls,' he said. 'But who...?'

'Dwarves, I think,' Pippin answered, 'to keep their ponies out of the weather as they engineered the store-hole above us. The entrance to the store-hole is of obvious Dwarf-make – it's beyond the capabilities of Hobbits, so far as I can tell...'

'Tie a pony to a ring, with a pile of hay and bucket of water at its head,' Ferdi said. 'And the rings are spaced far enough apart that you don't even need side walls to keep an ill-tempered pony from kicking his neighbour.'

'All the comforts of home,' Pippin said. 'But I wish I'd worn a hat... I could fill it with water from the spring and water the ponies...'

'It was cloudy this morning when we started,' Ferdi said, shrugging his shirt back into place. 'How were we to know that something or other would put the Sun into a temper and cause her to vent her anger upon the land?'

'Never mind,' Pippin said. 'But they've had rather more sun and heat, this past hour, than is good for them.' 

After some debate, the cousins worked out a solution of sorts. Pippin emptied one set of saddlebags and filled one of the bags from his water flask. 'Here, Sunny,' he said. 'Have a drink on me.' Over his shoulder, he told Ferdi, 'It's working! The bag is closely stitched; it's not leaking at all...'

'It ought to be,' Ferdi said. 'It's designed to keep documents dry in a downpour, after all, even if the Messenger should end up wet to the skin from the force of heavy rain.' He was all too familiar with carrying messages for the Thain. He struggled to his feet and picked up his flask. 'Here,' he said. 'Water Silver next, and then I'll refill the flasks...'

'I'll refill the flasks,' Pippin countermanded. 'You're still limping worse than I am.' The pain in his foot had subsided to a dull ache that would be gone in a day or two.

Ferdi hmphed but could hardly argue the point.

After all the ponies had been watered, the cousins sat down to another picnic, having nothing better to do while they waited. They also made good use of the time by making plans.

'Sunny and Silver are trained for riding,' Pippin said. 'Why don't we leave their bags of pebbles here...'

'Ride them and lead the others?' Ferdi said.

'Better than walking all the way back to the Smials with only two good legs between us,' Pippin affirmed.

'I can see why we made you Thain,' Ferdi said. 'Always coming up with new ideas, you are...'

'Tell that to the other Tooks,' Pippin replied.

'O but they know it already,' Ferdi said. 'Your problem lies in the fact that the Tooks loathe new ideas...'

'I suppose I'll have to try and come up with some old ideas, then,' Pippin said with a shake of his head.

Ferdi's answer brought a wry grin. 'Best o' luck to you in that, cousin.'

'Not the luck of the Tooks, I hope,' the young Thain said under his breath, but his older cousin heard him anyway.

'Anything but that,' Ferdi agreed.

*** 

Chapter 6. Harvests

~ S.R. 1434, Early Autumn. ~ 

Continuity note: The wet spring that witnessed Pippin's return to the Great Smials gave way to a hot, dry summer, culminating in a wildfire that burned from near Tookbank almost to Tuckborough and the Great Smials. If not for the young Thain's foresight, quick thinking and rapid response, the fire might well have burned all the way to the Brandywine River, ravaging the Woody End and all its inhabitants after leaving the Green Hill country to the East of Tuckborough a blackened wasteland. At the time of Tookland's annual archery tournament, described in this chapter, the land and the Tooklanders are still recovering from the effects of the near-disaster.

*** 

'Congratulations, Ferdibrand,' Thain Peregrin said formally, raising his voice to reach the edges of the large, enthusiastic crowd of archers and spectators who had come from all corners of the Shire for Tookland's annual archery tournament. 'You've won the Golden Arrow!' He held the arrow aloft and turned himself slowly from side to side so that everyone in the cheering throng could catch a glimpse of the shining token that was said to go all the way back to the time of Bucca of the Marish.

As a matter of course, after giving the gawking spectators their annual glimpse of this rare historical artefact, the young Thain gently laid the gilded shaft back in its box of polished yew and closed the lid. He then took up the winner's purse, mentioning to Diamond beside him, 'They told me the prizes are richer this year, for many more archers put their names down on the lists compared to the field in the last few years...'

More cheers arose as Pippin turned back to present the grand prize. 

Ferdi bowed to the Thain. But as he rose, the corners of his mouth quirked with what might have been a smile. 'What if I were to ask to have the arrow instead?' he asked under his breath, allowing a flash of humour to show through his usually dour demeanour – dour in Pippin's company, at least, for he was careful to maintain the barrier of respect between them and avoid any appearance of familiarity. Never mind that they were cousins who had played together as children.

Pippin lifted the heavy purse higher, ostensibly to show it off to the spectators, but the gesture had the added benefit of concealing his mouth from the onlookers as he answered. 'Why, I'd give it to you, o' course, and keep the purse for myself! But it's really not worth much more than a brass farthing, you know. 'Tis too heavy to fly far, and as its fletching is made of gold rather than feathers, one cannot be assured of shooting accurately.'

Lighter moment over, Ferdi lifted his cupped palms, and Pippin deposited the purse securely in his cousin's grasp – it wouldn't do to be careless enough as to cause Ferdi to drop the purse and spill the coins within, generating sharply pointed Talk and general disapproval. 

Then the young Thain lifted his hands high and shouted, 'Three cheers for the finest archer in the Shire!'

'O now, did you have to?' Ferdi groaned under cover of the cheering.

'The winner always receives three cheers; you know that as well as I do! Why, if you didn't, then how would you know that you'd won?'

'I should say the thunk of an accurately-aimed arrow would be a fairly reliable sign,' Ferdi answered. He bowed again to Pippin, then to Diamond; lastly, his deepest bow went to Eglantine. 'Mistress,' he said in quiet acknowledgement of one of the few who had defied Paladin's order to shun him for supposedly neglecting his duties as Pippin's escort, though Pippin ought to have borne the better part of the fault.

It wasn't his fault that Pippin had tricked him, nor was he to blame for his younger cousin's decision to leave the Tookland behind him "forever" and settle in Buckland. But Paladin had blamed the escort all the same and had allowed the penalty he imposed – shunning – to continue until the day the old hobbit died.

Strangely enough, Pippin's "forever" turned out to be a lot shorter than the word would imply, for he returned to the Tookland to honour his father's dying wish that he should become the next Thain. Immediately after Paladin breathed his last, Steward Reginard, in his infinite wisdom, lifted Ferdi's shunning before going on to carry out Paladin's last wishes by riding to Buckland to summon Pippin home. Then, upon Pippin's arrival at the Great Smials, Regi elevated Ferdi to the position of Head of Escort to the Thain, thus throwing the two cousins into each other's company on a near-daily basis.

As Regi had intended, Pippin and Ferdi had built an understanding of sorts, though there was no returning to the easy relationship they'd enjoyed in their younger days. In the Tookland's current circumstances, Ferdi went beyond the customary space that Shire society dictated between common hobbits and the gentry. In fact, the older cousin's constraint reflected the determination of all of the hobbits who worked directly with the Thain. After Pippin had taken the difficult decision to admit to the disappearance of the Treasury, those working for him engaged in a conspiracy of sorts to display deference and respect towards the young Thain, shoring up his reputation with the capricious Tooks and supporting the stability of a rather shaky Tookland, considering the state of the homeland's finances.

Following the awards ceremony, Pippin did not really enjoy the traditional celebratory feast, though he put on a good face. He maintained a determined smile, drank all the toasts and proposed a few of his own, and said all the expected words and phrases; nevertheless, throughout the evening, his mind continued to worry away at various problems facing his homeland. These thorny issues included the current level of supplies in the Great Smials store-holes, the relatively scanty harvest due to the summer drought and then the late-summer wildfire that had swept across the fields between Tookbank and Tuckborough, leading to the inevitable question of how they were going to get through the Winter.

As if divining her husband's thoughts, Diamond took up her husband's hand under the table and gave a gentle squeeze. 'Eat, my love,' she said when Pippin turned his head and met her loving gaze. 'It's on the platters and plates already, and it would be a shame for any of this good food to go to waste.'

'It'll go to fatten the pigs, any road,' Pippin answered, assuming his best smile.

Diamond was not fooled, but she returned the smile and said, 'And considering how much they've already fattened themselves on acorns, we can look forward to some lovely bacon and ham and roasted pork in a month or so...'

Pippin's smile grew more genuine, and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

Tolibold, one of the escort, had been watching those sitting at the head table. 'At least somebody's having a good time,' he said to Ferdi, sitting next to him at the escort's table.

Ferdi, who had been picking at his food, took the hint and applied better attention to his plate. 'For my part, I'm just tired, is all,' he said after a few mouthfuls. 'I think my pipes are still recovering from the smoke I breathed a fortnight ago. The air feels awfully close in here.'

Tolly leaned closer. 'If you're not finding enough air to breathe, how is he managing, then?' he muttered, indicating the Thain with his eyes. 'The wildfire near took him down to the grave, or so the Talk goes.'

'I don't have to listen to the Talk to know about that,' Ferdi returned in a low voice. 'Everyone who was here in the Smials at the time heard about the battle he waged to recover from the smoke that rolled over us as we fled the fire-lines in search of breathable air.' He looked sternly at his subordinate. 'And I certainly hope you know better than to spread such ideas...'

Tolly nodded and looked down at his plate, suitably chastised. After a moment of silence, he raised his head again and asked, 'How's Penny?' – naming Ferdi's pony. At a critical point during the wildfire, she had carried the head of escort and the Thain with him out of the immediate fire zone, though the billowing smoke had enveloped them before they could reach the relative safety of the Great Smials.

Ferdi shook his head and sighed. 'Still coughing,' he said. 'Ponies are slower to heal than hobbits, it seems. Old Tom tells me he thinks her wind isn't broken, but only time will tell – 'twill be a month or two, he says – at the least, as he told me – before we can know anything for certain.'

'Pity,' Tolly said gloomily. 'She was one of the fastest ponies in the Tookland.'

'And she will be again, I hope,' Ferdi said. By that time, the banquet was coming to a close, and it was time for the assembly to toast the winners in the various groupings of the Tournament, ending with the toast for the overall winner. Ferdi found it a sore trial to sit through, but at last the ordeal was over, and he gratefully left the feast behind for the sanctuary of his quiet, solitary room, his escape impeded only by the congratulations and slaps on his back from appreciative friends and cousins as he made his way through the celebrating crowd.

Tolly sought to have the last word as he walked Ferdi part-way to his rest. 'Cheer up, cousin!' he said. 'At least you don't have to put up with winning the Tournament for another whole year!'

But Ferdi managed to best him with, 'If any luck at all is with me, perhaps you'll win the Tournament next year instead!'

He left Tolly speechless, which was really just as well.

*** 

'Well, Regi?' 

Steward Reginard knew exactly what his Thain was asking him about, for Paladin had asked about this same topic in exactly the same way. The major events of Autumn were behind them: harvest and hay-cutting, at least in the parts of Tookland not scorched or reduced to ash by the recent fire, followed by the annual Pony Sale, and lastly, the Tournament.

There would be no rest for the weary, of course. Looming ahead of them were Remembering Day, followed by Quarter Day when the Thain and Steward must somehow stretch Tookland's finances to cover all expenditures. Almost immediately after wrestling that problem into submission, Yuletide would be upon them.

'We took in more this year from the Tournament,' the Steward answered. 'Opening the lists an hour earlier meant more competitors, allowing us to collect more entry fees...'

'...and the fact that more entrants would make it possible to offer heavier purses to the winners drew more attention and interest,' Pippin said. 'Everyone wins! ...almost everyone, that is. Hard knocks on the Master of the Tournament and his assistants, of course, what with having to plan for a larger number of competitors.'

'You gave him enough forewarning to prepare,' Regi said. 'In the end, he decided to tighten up the rules regarding elimination so that the last few rounds – the most challenging events – still contained the same number of archers as before.'

'Rather like winnowing, I'd imagine,' Pippin said. 'You just need a good, stiff breeze to blow the chaff away...' 

Regi was silent for a moment, but then he nodded. 'Yes,' he agreed. 'Something like that.'

But Pippin wasn't finished. 'So where do we stand?' he asked. 'Compared to last year, that is, when you were more-or-less running everything for my father? What of the proceeds of the pony sale? And the harvest? I know it was less this year because of the drought and the wildfire, but... how far behind are we?'

Regi pulled the ledger from the corner of the desk and began turning pages.

'And then there's the loss of the purses from the All-Shire Race,' Pippin said as his Steward reckoned the year's hard-fought yet scanty gains and weighed them against the losses they'd suffered despite their best efforts. 'I know we made up some of the lost ground with that windfall of generosity after I admitted that the Treasury was gone... my father ought to have done the same, years ago, poor fellow.' He sighed. 'Struggling along would have been easier, I suspect, if he had not had to bear the burden of concealing the struggle.'

'I know,' Regi said quietly, looking up from the page he was perusing. 'My father steered him wrong. And, into the bargain, he persuaded me to follow in his footsteps, supporting the Thain even as he had done – including withholding the truth about the Treasury from public knowledge. And for that, you have my sincerest apologies, Cousin, for all the good it might do to have them.'

'Water under the Bridge,' Pippin said, and Regi suppressed a shudder at the image. But the young Thain wasn't finished. 'We cannot change the past; all we can do is forge ahead and do the best we can under the circumstances we've been left with.' He sighed. 'It's going to be a long winter, I suspect...'

*** 

Chapter 7. Food for Thought

~ S.R. 1434, Late Autumn ~

'Another Quarter Day is nearly upon us?' said the young Thain in consternation. 'How do the days manage to speed by, even as they sometimes seem to drag on forever?'

'Difficult to believe,' Regi replied, 'what with the mildness of the weather these past few days. Mistress Summer seems to be lingering, reluctant to depart for the Southlands, and Mistress Autumn is running behind her time... Why, the hunters report that the numbers of migrating birds have been remarkably few, for this late in the year!'

'I do hope it doesn't mean a dearth of game for the pantry,' Pippin muttered, shaking his head. 'Added to the effect of the drought on the crops we harvested, as well as the loss from the wildfire, and the Tooks may have to tighten their belts before Spring returns to the land...!'

'Bite your tongue!' the Steward scolded. 'Let us not borrow trouble. Thus far, Renilard blames the lack of game on the mild weather, causing the birds to overlook their usual departure date. He insists that once the North Wind begins to blow, they'll quickly remember, and fill the skies once more as they pass overhead on their way to warmer climes.'

'I suppose they have no calendars to rely upon,' the young Thain mused. 'Think of the trouble Shire-folk would be in without such! If not for your attention to days and dates, the hay would likely still be in the fields rather than gathered in!'

Regi bowed slightly in acknowledgement of this word of praise from his Thain, then returned to business. 'Tomorrow, regardless of the summery weather, 'twill be time to ride to the store-hole to fetch the coin needed to settle our debts and purchase whatever supplies are needed for the coming months...'

'Whatever supplies we can afford,' Pippin interjected.

'Of course,' Regi said. 'I should think that goes without saying...'

'Without saying is what got us into this state in the first place,' the young Thain said, fixing his Steward with a stern eye. 'Had I known at the start about Tookland's financial situation, I might have done things differently... not made some of the commitments I made, early on and all unknowing.'

He held up his hand to stay Reginard's apology. 'Never mind, Regi,' he said. 'Call it a lesson learned; a reminder to look before I leap.' He sighed. 'It seems to be a lesson I must learn over and again, for some reason or other. I can only hope I might get it right one of these times, that there will be no need to repeat it in future.'

'That would be a grand hope for any hobbit,' Regi agreed, 'though I should say the thought applies especially to the Tooks as a whole, and not just individual Tooks.'

He saw Pippin's lips tighten in what might pass for a smile, though the younger hobbit's face remained unusually sombre. To distract him, the Steward asked, 'Would you like me to go to the store-hole tomorrow, or is that a task you'd prefer to handle personally?' He was fairly sure of the answer he'd receive.

Pippin did not disappoint him. 'Of course I shall go and take care of that vital task myself!' the young Thain said. 'Besides,' he added, 'what ever would I do if something came up and you were away, and no one was here whom the Tooks would listen to!'

'We might hope they would listen to their Thain,' Regi said dryly.

'Ten years from now, perhaps,' Pippin said, 'if not a dozen. No,' he said, shaking his head, 'I think the best use of our resources is for me to run this little errand and for you to stay on the spot in case of any emergency that might come up.'

He cocked an eye at his Steward and said, without hope, 'I don't suppose I might be allowed to consider it a holiday of sorts – a walking party of one, giving me time to think my own thoughts without interruption or distraction?'

'That would be leaping without looking, I should think,' Regi answered.

Pippin sighed and nodded. 'I thought as much,' he said. 'Very well. I'll take Ferdi with me, if I may... and no ponies. We can carry our picnic with us on our backs, and bring the quarterly funds back the same way after we've eaten up the food!' Ferdi's injured leg, having had several weeks to heal since their last "walking party", ought not to hamper him at this late date. 

'A wonder of planning and economy,' Regi said dryly. 'Plus you won't be burdened by the necessity of eating as much food as the cooks can stuff into the saddlebags of multiple ponies...!'

'You heard about that?' Pippin said.

Regi chuckled. 'Ferdi told me about the feast they sent along with you the last time you went to the store-hole,' he replied. 'Enough to nearly founder the two of you! As it was, you both found it necessary to ride back to the Smials on pack-ponies rather than walking!'

Pippin nodded with a grimace that Regi would likely attribute to the generosity of the Smials cooks in packing the saddlebags for that one-day journey. At least, it seemed, Ferdi had not mentioned their difficulties related to the heat of that day, much less the escort's mishap that had resulted in a twisted ankle and a bump to his head. The young Thain suspected that if Regi had heard the entire story, the Steward would now be insisting on a full escort there and back again. Surrounded by Tooks! he thought in dismay. Exactly what I'd like to get away from, if only for a few hours!

Aloud, he said only, 'That sounds quite satisfactory, Regi. If you'll make the arrangements for the morrow, then, we'll be wanting to make an early start.'

*** 

The day dawned brightly, promising pleasant weather to follow. The two Walkers started out wearing light jackets to ward off the early-morning chill. Coats or cloaks seemed more of a burden than a boon, especially without a pack pony to carry them. 

'It's not as if we'll be climbing cruel Caradhras,' Pippin had said as he'd hung up his cloak on a hook near the stable entrance, once he'd decided he wouldn't need the added warmth or weight. 

Ferdi had looked at him askance but followed suit. With the warm weather continuing, a cloak seemed hardly necessary. His sceptical look had more to do with Pippin's mention of faraway places than the young Thain's choice to leave his cloak behind. The escort also had the beginnings of a headache stirring behind his eyes – but that was his own fault, he figured, for having stayed late at The Spotted Duck after reaching the finals of the monthly darts tournament last evening. He'd also had a few more beers than his usual habit as the evening progressed. 

The longer they walked, the gladder Ferdi was at not having to bear the extra weight of the rolled-up cloak. There and back again I would have had to carry it, he thought to himself. Rolled-up the whole time, and to what purpose? Tied onto the top of my pack, it would have kept the breeze from the back of my neck and thus been much more of a hindrance than a help!

The Sun seemed to agree, shining so brightly as to dazzle his eyes. Or was that the effects of last night's over-imbibing, haunting him still?

*** 

'Still no frost last night,' Ferdi said as they skirted the side of one of the great hills between them and Hoard Hill. He shook his head. 'I don't like it.'

'It makes for pleasant travelling,' Pippin argued.

'I don't like it at all,' Ferdi insisted. 'It's unnatural, this late in the year, and no frost! The farmers aren't happy, either.'

Pippin pointed to the top of the hill they were passing. 'Frost was sparkling on the hilltops when we started out,' he said, 'though the Sun has melted it away by now. Soon enough, I should think, the frost faeries will visit the valleys as well.' At Ferdi's sceptical look, he shrugged. 'I've never known a year without winter, have you?'

Though Ferdi admitted aloud that winter had always come on the heels of autumn in his lifetime, he added under his breath, 'I suppose there's always a first time.'

'Don't borrow trouble,' Pippin scolded, echoing Reginard. 'And look!' he added more cheerfully, waving his hand at the intensely blue autumnal sky, painted with mare's tails that foretold a weather change to come. The usual flocks of ducks and geese that had been absent up until now seemed to be making up for lost time. Over the past week or two, a few scattered pairs and relatively small flocks had flown over the courtyard between the Great Smials proper and the outbuildings, including the stables. However, since the dawning of this day, when the Thain and his escort had left the Smials behind, migratory birds had been appearing in increasing numbers as the morning wore on. 'It seems the birds are finally waking up to the time of year! By tomorrow they'll be flocking so thick that even I might be able to bag a bird or two, even with my poor aim with a bow!'

'Good hunting is on the horizon!' Ferdi said with a genuine smile. 'At last!'

Pippin returned the smile. 'I give you leave to take the day tomorrow for hunting,' he said generously. 'Just so long as you bring me back a brace of ducks for the Thain's table.' He was no archer, as he freely admitted, though he could cast an accurate stone with the best of them.

'It will be my pleasure!' Ferdi said, grinning.

*** 

The mildness of the day, followed by increasing warmth as the Sun rose in the sky, continued to reflect the unusually warm weather they'd seen over the previous span of days, leading the walkers to doff their jackets fairly early on in the hike. Indeed, by mid-morning, though Pippin and Ferdi had rolled up their shirtsleeves and loosened the collars of their shirts, they were sweating freely under the onslaught of the hard-working Sun.

'I do hope we won't find the weather as warm as the last time we made this journey!' Pippin said to Ferdi, unbuttoning the next button on his shirt in search of some small additional degree of relief. 'It stands to reason that mid-November ought to be chillier than midsummer!'

His no-nonsense cousin made no reply to this obvious statement.

Ferdi, for his part, seemed abstracted. Perhaps it was the hurrying birds that filled the skies above them, or perhaps the brightness of the sunshine had dazzled his eyes. At the moment, he was trudging along in silence, his eyes squinting and his forehead creased in deep thought, or so it seemed to his younger cousin.

'At least the clouds seem to be thickening,' Pippin said, shading his eyes to study the sky. 'We ought to have some relief from the Sun by the time we begin to make our way back home again.'

'What was that, Cousin?' Ferdi said with a start, as if he'd only just now realised that Pippin was addressing him.

'The walk back to the Smials ought to be cooler, with the clouds interceding for us and holding off the worst of the Sun's temper this day,' Pippin repeated.

'Oh,' Ferdi answered, and then, 'aye.' He seemed to shake himself free of his thoughts and turned his head to meet Pippin's gaze. 'Are you feeling the heat, Sir?' he said formally. 'Perhaps you ought to drink some water. We can refill our flasks when we reach Hoard Hill, after all.'

'I'll drink to that,' Pippin said cheerily, and went on to press Ferdi to take a few swallows of his own. 'I should hate for you to collapse from the heat, and have to carry you to safety...' He almost laughed at the pained look his cousin directed at him, but at least Ferdi uncapped his flask and drank.

The clouds continued to thicken as they walked, but brought little relief from the heat. Instead, the air seemed to press down on the walkers, uncomfortably warm and increasingly humid. It was a relief to reach the little spring emerging from the side of Hoard Hill; both cousins splashed their heads and necks with the icy water and sighed at the cooling effect.

'I think we'll have our picnic in that cavern at the base of the hill – it's relatively cool, underground as it is – before we climb the hill to the store-hole,' Pippin said. They might as easily have picnicked within the store-hole itself, but he didn't like the thought of closing the door to hide the entrance from any passing observer and then eating by lantern-light in the presence of those perilous barrels of black powder. Such a course of action seemed to be asking for trouble.

Ferdi had no objections, and Pippin was glad to see that the icy water seemed to have restored his older cousin's energies. They made a pleasant – if somewhat less sumptuous than before – meal, which also served to make room in their packs for the coins they would carry homeward.

'Less weight to carry up the hill, as well,' Ferdi said as they wound their way up Hoard Hill, mellowed by the good food and accompanying casual conversation the two cousins had enjoyed in the cavern. 'I can see why we made you Thain, cousin,' he added. 'You have a knack for solving problems.'

'We're carrying the same amount of weight as we did before,' Pippin argued. 'It's just that it's inside us rather than inside our packs!'

'Never mind,' Ferdi answered. 'Perhaps the Tooks were a bit over-hasty in confirming you as Thain after all...'

Pippin laughed. 'Problem's not solved after all, eh, Ferdi?'

'Yet if you'd had the sense not to point that out, no one would be the wiser!'

'Would you rather have an honest Thain, or a clever one?' Pippin asked.

To his surprise, his older cousin appeared to give his rather-unserious question serious consideration. At last, Ferdi answered, 'Both, actually.' 

Good food for thought, Pippin thought to himself as they continued to toil their way uphill. Something to chew on as we go...

*** 

Chapter 8. Change in the Weather

The cavern holding Tookland's treasure hoard – what remained of the Thain's and Tooks' Treasury in these lean times, any road – had been delved by Dwarves in the distant past, though the details of its construction lay well beyond the memory of any living Tooks. In fact, the record containing the name of the Thain who'd hired the Dwarves was long lost and had, quite possibly, crumbled to dust by this time in the distant reaches of the Room of Records which was tucked away in the innermost reaches of the Great Smials – out of sight, out of mind as in the old saying. On a previous trip to the cavern, Ferdi had listened to Pippin speculate aloud as to how the Dwarves had been hired in the first place, as well as the sort of treatment the Tooks had afforded the guest-workers and what sort of payment had been involved.

'How I would like to invite Gimli to inspect his ancestors' work,' the young Thain said now, staring into the darkness beyond the opened door. He detached the lantern he'd carried here from its fastening on his pack, opened the glass and lit the wick with a striker, and closed the glass and set the lantern down while he secured the small box of strikers in his pocket once more. Taking up the lantern again, the young Thain lifted it high, beckoned to Ferdi to follow, and entered the cavern, scrutinising the rocky wall just inside the doorway. At last, finding what he sought, he moved closer and pressed the spot on the wall that would close the hidden door, which slid almost silently into place, leaving only the tiniest of cracks on this side of the wall. 'Dwarf-made,' he whispered, just as he had on previous visits. Now that the light of day, even on this overcast morning, no longer shone in through the large doorway, the darkness seemed to press in upon them.

The lantern's surrounding pool of light illuminated the barrels that Aldi and his engineers had lined up to one side of the door with their usual precision, but the rest of the cavern lay in darkness. The lantern-light did not reach as far as the ceiling above them, but once the young Thain and his head of escort had walked part-way across the echoing space towards the far wall, vague shapes began to emerge from the darkness ahead of them.

'Whatever happened to the need to keep the location of the treasure-hoard secret?' Ferdi replied in answer to Pippin's idea of inviting an Outsider to see the cavern, Dwarf-made or not. But then he winced as his softly-spoken words echoed in the darkness. The echoes bothered his head, for some reason, and he resolved to hold his tongue as much as possible until they left this enclosed space, as large or larger than the great room in the Smials, he thought, as if it had been delved to hold a dragon's hoard.

Where had all the treasure gone? Perhaps they'd never know.

Of a mercy, Pippin did not deign to answer his escort's rhetorical question. The two hobbits crossed the rest of the enormous space in blessed silence, without even the sound of footsteps, for both were moved by an inexplicable inclination to walk as softly as hobbitly possible.

They had only brought one lantern with them this time, all they'd need for this day's work, but now Ferdi found himself wishing for more light as he followed close behind the Thain, though he hardly needed the light on the smooth, even floor the Dwarves had fashioned. From his earlier exploration, he knew the walls that rose on all sides were equally smooth, their surface polished, at least as high as he'd been able to reach. He had no idea whether the ceiling was rounded, after the fashion of hobbit dwellings, or squared off, as Pippin had described the halls of Men and Dwarves. 

The bulk of Tookland's current wealth took the form of not enough coins and an uncomfortable amount of explosive black powder. It was a curious combination, perhaps, but considering the blended solidity and volatility of the Tooks, perhaps the nature of the current Thain's treasure-hoard was not so curious after all. 

'Here we are,' Pippin said quietly, the words clear in that silent space despite the muffling cloth he'd drawn over his face to protect his lungs from any dust that might have accumulated since the last time they were here. He lifted the lantern to skirt the first few chests, then set the lantern on a barrel near their intended target with exaggerated care.

Ferdi didn't blame him. He didn't fancy groping his way across the wide space to try and find the doorway if their solitary lantern should fall and fail... much less the struggle to find the concealed place on the wall that would cause the enormous door to swing open once more.

Next time we'll bring two lanterns with us, he vowed. ...and if we ride ponies, we could bring four. Not that four lanterns would light this space, but they'd hold off the darkness a bit better, at least, to his way of thinking.

You're becoming as bad as Merry Brandybuck with his horror of the dark, he scolded himself, remembering a long-ago exploration the two of them had shared as young lads. Merry had sworn him to silence; but now, he suddenly wondered if Pip had ever discovered their older cousin's weakness?

Not that it mattered. He doubted the Thain would ever provide the Master with a tour of the store-hole, especially considering the negative attitude that many Tooks held regarding the Brandybucks.

The young Thain and his escort took some time to count out the requisite amount of coin. They even checked the total twice before dividing the burden evenly between their packs. Next, despite the extra time added to the visit, they brushed the thin layer of dust off all the chests, not just the ones they'd breached (and where does the dust come from in this enclosed space? the head of escort briefly wondered), to disguise the location of the valuable chests amongst the jumble of containers.

When they'd finished this final task, Ferdi saw the younger cousin shake his head. 'What is it?' he asked, remembering to keep his voice low to minimise the echoes.

'By filling our packs according to Regi's reckoning, we're carrying away nearly the entire hoard,' Pippin replied. 'I think we are going to need to establish another "tradition" to raise additional funds, or we'll be in serious trouble before Spring rents come due...' The first fruits of the early part of the year, when those who farmed the land held by the Thain for the Tooks and Tooklanders would pay the first half of their annual rent – would go a long way to replenishing the Tookland's coffers. Until then, they'd have to tighten their belts in a manner of speaking, the upcoming holiday feasting notwithstanding. Although market day in Tuckborough occurred on the middle day of every week, bringing farmers from as far as Tookbank, the offerings would be relatively lean in the weeks after Yule, and the "Thain's share" of the cost each seller would pay for a market table would be correspondingly lessened.

'Establish another tradition?' Ferdi echoed, dumbfounded. 'What in the world do you mean by that?' It was bad enough to have to put up with a new Thain, even one that didn't have the temerity to try and foist new traditions off on the Tooks and Tooklanders. But here was Pip, his brash young cousin, suggesting he might do just that.

Pippin's laugh echoed weirdly in the cavern. 'Why of course!' he said merrily. 'It stands to reason that all traditions had to get started somehow... Hobbits didn't simply step out of thin air and start practising them!'

'I never thought about it before,' Ferdi admitted. He shouldered his pack and then rubbed at the worsening ache in his head, seemingly triggered by the earlier echoes and aggravated by the brightness of the lantern against the contrasting darkness. Suddenly being confronted with the riddle of where traditions had started in the first place was not helping any.

'They have a Winter Market in the Northfarthing, or so Diamond has said,' Pippin went on, nodding his thanks as Ferdi helped him lift his pack onto his back. The Thain then gestured to his head of escort to take the lantern from its resting place and lead the way to the opening, and so Ferdi did.

Behind him, Pippin kept talking. At least the young Thain was keeping his voice low – possibly part of the reason why he'd elected to walk behind Ferdi in the first place – and thus all unwittingly sparing Ferdi's aching head. Walking behind the escort and talking would be easier than talking to Ferdi over his shoulder as they made their way through the deep darkness that, if Ferdi was remembering right, Pip had compared to a place called "Moria". Not to mention that, even with the smooth floor, it would be all too easy to have a mishap if the younger cousin wasn't paying attention to his footing, what with holding the lantern, carrying a heavy burden, and talking over his shoulder! Perhaps Pip's Moria experience had taught the younger cousin some sort of lesson or other, Ferdi mused. Had there been some sort of mishap in Moria...?

...but, of course, Ferdi was leading the way at the moment, aching head and all. Luck forbear that he should stumble and drop the lantern into the bargain!

With shocking suddenness, a solid wall materialised before him, and he realised they'd crossed the wide cavern already! He ought to have counted his steps there and back again, and thus avoided being taken by surprise. 'Here we are,' he said, belatedly and quite unnecessarily, for surely Pip could see the wall as well as he could.

'Here we are,' echoed the young Thain quietly, followed by, 'Hold the lantern a little higher, if you please?'

Ferdi obliged, and Pippin bent closer to the wall to find the hidden pressure point. 'Here we are,' the younger cousin repeated under his breath, reaching to lay his palm against the wall at the proper spot. To Ferdi's mind, the young Thain's face above the cloth covering his mouth and nose looked pale in the lantern's light as he added, 'It'll be good to come out into the free air once more. Large as the cavern is, and even with Aldi's assurance that the Dwarves provided for a constant (if hidden) flow of fresh air, it always feels stuffy to me...'

The door seemed to open more slowly than Ferdi remembered, hampered perhaps by the blast of wind that cut off the Thain's casual talk and snuffed the lantern's glass-enclosed flame as it roared through the opening. Next, Ferdi heard a cry from his cousin and caught a glimpse of the cloth that had, a bare moment ago, covered Pippin's nose and mouth, as it was ripped from the younger cousin's hand by a violent gust of wind and whirled rapidly away through the air until it was out of sight.

An hour or perhaps as much as two hours earlier, a gentle mist had begun falling from the sullen sky just before the two Tooks had reached the overhang that concealed the cavern's entrance, promising to relieve the stifling heat of the day on their return journey to the Great Smials. But now as they emerged from the cavern with its thick, insulating walls of solid rock, the roar of the wind that greeted them was accompanied by an astonishing sight. Low-hanging black clouds obscured the vista of Green Hills marching into the distance, as could be seen from this high place on most days. Worse, the clouds were hurling sheets of rain being driven almost horizontally by the force of the wind.

'Wait it out?' Ferdi ventured, shouting to be heard above the wind and rain. The cavern would be dark and quiet, perhaps a bit chilly but eminently preferable to the wild weather that now confronted them.

To his astonishment, Pippin laughed. On second thought, perhaps it wasn't so astonishing at that, considering the younger cousin's capacity for recklessness. But the young Thain's next words changed Ferdi's impression of recklessness to grudging respect for Pippin's assessment of the situation. 'Who knows how long this might last?' the young Thain yelled into the wind. 'This looks to me like a regular three-day blow!'

Ferdi squinted his eyes against the assault of the wind and the pain in his head as he considered. At last, he nodded reluctantly. Though the older cousin could scarcely credit it, Pippin had a fine weather-sense when it came to the Green Hill country, perhaps as a result of his living and working in the open during his brief stint as a shepherd's assistant around the time he'd turned twenty. Ferdi fleetingly wondered why the young Thain hadn't anticipated this change in the weather; but then, except for the warning he might have taken from the increasing pain in his head (the reminder of a ruffian's club in the Battle of Bywater), despite his years as a hunter in the woods and hills, Ferdi himself had foreseen neither the sudden onset of this storm nor its ferocity.

'We haven't food for three days,' he agreed at the top of his voice.

In point of fact, though they'd started out well-supplied, they hadn't any food with them now; they'd eaten all they'd carried here and refilled their packs with useless coins.

'Nothing for it!' Pippin shouted, his hand tightening on his walking stick. 'Let us get down the mountain before the rain reduces the hillside to mud!'

Sliding down the great hill might be faster than trying to keep to their feet, Ferdi thought privately, but all he said was, 'Lead on!'

Though the wind stole the words away, Pippin apparently was able to read the sentiment on his escort's lips, for he nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out from under the inadequate shelter of the overhang.

*** 

Author's notes: 

Pippin's time as a shepherd's apprentice is told in the story Thain, another WIP of mine that is currently undergoing beta-reading and (here's hoping) due to be published in full in 2026.

The weather described in this story is drawn from the reports that emerged after a real-life historic weather event. More details to follow.

*** 

Chapter 9. Survival

Both the young Thain and his escort were covered head-to-toe in mud when they reached the bottom of Hoard Hill at last. Making their way down the hillside had been a slow and, to be honest, a painful process – slipping, sliding, overbalancing due to the weight of the packs on their backs, falling down and getting up again, standing just long enough to pick out where their next steps should take them... would hopefully take them... Only to repeat the ordeal until their progress down the hillside became a blur of effort, and Ferdi's entire body took on the same feeling of weightiness as the pack on his back. Foot by foot, as the old saying went. 

The rain that had fallen while they were inside the cavern, blissfully unaware of the storm's sudden onset and rapid worsening, had transformed the climbable hillside into a slippery slope, slick enough where dirt had turned to mud, but downright treacherous in the form of patches of clay where the pounding rain had washed even the mud away. The cousins tried to follow a path of sorts where the footing would be rocky or grassy. Creeping along over the drenched and flattened grassy patches, though slippery in themselves, was nevertheless better than trying to keep one's feet on sloping ground comprised of mud or clay.

In hindsight, rolling or sliding down the hill to the bottom might have been the wisest choice after all. It felt as if the descent had taken hours. Was the surrounding darkness due to the day drawing to its close – had it taken the entire afternoon merely to reach the valley floor? Or was it the intensity of the storm that had dimmed the light of the day until it resembled encroaching twilight? 

Ferdi blinked in an effort to see more clearly, hampered by the rain that was running down his face and into his eyes.

In the midst of the maelstrom, hands tugged at his arm. With an effort, the escort regained his feet and stood swaying. Or was the ground swaying under him?

'All right?' Pippin shouted after helping Ferdi stand up again.

'I should be the one asking!' Ferdi replied at the top of his voice.

To no avail. For Pippin bellowed in return, 'What?!'

Ferdi merely shook his head as he tried to draw the light jacket he wore, inadequate as it might be against this sudden storm, closer about himself. For all the good it would do... he was wet through, all the way to the skin. The relentless rain continued to hammer against him, threatening to pound him into the ground. At least it was also serving to wash away the mud he'd accumulated in falling and sliding and rolling, over and again, in descending to the valley floor. We must take our blessings where we find them, he thought incongruously, even as a violent shiver took him by surprise. He closed his eyes and dug deep down inside himself to find the resolve he needed to go on... to take the next step.

At least the next step will be on level ground, he told himself. And I'm lighter than I was. That'll make the going easier still. But how...? And then Ferdi realised... the pack he'd carried, heavy with the coinage calculated to cover half of Tookland's expenses for the coming quarter (while Pippin's pack held the other half), was no longer on his back. Somehow the loss didn't seem all that important, considering the circumstances.

Suddenly, Pip's voice sounded loud in his ear, and the escort jumped, then belatedly realised that his younger cousin had cupped his hands around Ferdi's ear and was shouting directly into the ear trumpet he'd thus improvised. Temperature's dropping!

Ferdi nodded, not even irritated that his younger cousin was stating the obvious. Why did I complain of the earlier heat? he mused to himself with an odd feeling of detachment. Despite the drizzle that had begun just before they'd entered the cavern, the air had been muggy – and warm enough that the cavern had felt chilly by comparison. Ferdi had actually looked forward to emerging again into the unseasonably warm day, even with the prospect of sweating his way back to the Smials from here.

But any such relief had been denied them. The wind that had assaulted them at the entrance to the cavern had blown unexpectedly cold – no longer unseasonably warm, but colder even than the constant chill of the cavern. And now... Ferdi idly noticed that there seemed to be stinging needles of ice mixing with the rain. He blinked, trying to make sense of the matter, then lifted a leaden hand to try and wipe away the cascading water from his face. The Green Hills were often crowned with frost or even snow in the colder months, while the valleys running between them could and surprisingly often did remain green – damp, perhaps misty, but not freezing, except in the severest of weathers.

Shouldn't it be warmer here in the valley than it had been high up on the side of Hoard Hill?

But Pippin was hauling at Ferdi's arm with annoying insistence, breaking into the older cousin's muddled thoughts. Bemused, Ferdi realised he was sitting on the ground again. What had been a puddle when he'd first stood up had become a rivulet in just a short time, and he was now playing the part of an island of sorts. Hadn't he been standing in a shallow puddle bare moments ago?

Pip's hands were there again, surrounding Ferdi's ear, and the escort had a confused impression of the young Thain bending over him. And then he heard the hobbit shout: Get up, Ferdi! We've got to find shelter!

I'm all for that, he mumbled agreeably, nodding like a drunken hobbit. He fumbled to lift his near hand to Pippin's obliging shoulder, then nodded again. But as Pippin hauled him to his feet once more, another shiver hit hard, causing his knees to give way. Ferdi sat down with a splosh, then reached a flat palm to splash atop the surface of the water running over and around him. Why am I sitting in a stream? Hadn't he been standing in a puddle? Had he walked away from the puddle, only to blunder into a river?

This is what cold-sickness feels like, some detached part of Ferdi's brain informed him. You're in imminent danger of catching your death... taking a deathly chill... He might have shrugged, but the shivering had seized him again, locking up his muscles and preventing such movement.

Without warning, the world turned suddenly downside-up, briefly interrupting the escort's disjointed thoughts. Then Ferdi seemed to perceive the sensation of movement – rough, not smooth, rather jolting in fact, he thought.

He opened his eyes – though he didn't remember having closed them in the first place – to see the ground passing beneath him; he was suspended in mid-air, hanging upside-down, rather like a sleeping bat, he mused, though curiosity or cohesive thought was beyond his capabilities at the moment besides the passing notion that sleeping bats stayed anchored in one place. Unlike Ferdi.

He couldn't have said how long the sensation lasted or even how it ended. But when he opened his eyes once more, he was lying on a hard floor. He strained to see his surroundings in the shadowy darkness, wondering where he was and how he'd got there. Eventually he realised that Pippin was huddled beside him, eyeing him closely.

'Pip?' he whispered, suddenly thankful that there seemed no need to shout in this place, where ever they had ended up.

'Ferdi,' the young Thain breathed, leaning forward. 'You had me w-worried, I have to admit...'

'Are we...?' Ferdi began, but his eyes were closing of themselves, and his voice trailed off. He drew a steadying breath and forced his eyelids open again. 'Did you...?'

Had his younger cousin somehow carried him up the hillside again, seeking the shelter of the store-hole? The floor under him was smooth and rock-hard – and cold. He drew another deep breath of air that conveyed the familiar chill of an underground enclosure.

While he'd been pondering, his eyes had closed again. Seems such a waste, the escort murmured to himself.

'Not at all,' Pippin said, having evidently overheard. 'I couldn't exactly leave you to drown in that growing stream, not when the runoff pouring down the hillside s-seemed to be increasing, the longer we hesitated...'

'I wasn't hesitating,' Ferdi countered.

'I'd like to know what it was you were doing, then,' Pippin said. 'Practising your swimming technique?'

Ferdi opened a heavy eyelid. 'Don't be ridiculous,' he slurred. 'Only a Brandybuck would be foolish enough to swim.'

'And only a Took would be foolish enough to sit in a brimming ditch, I suppose,' Pippin said.

'Ditch? What ditch? It takes a road or at least a path to make a ditch,' Ferdi argued. 'That was no ditch...'

'A ditch can also run along the edge of a field,' Pippin said contemplatively, then added, 'but that's neither here nor there.'

'Where is here?' Ferdi asked, closing his eye again and taking stock. Wet through, he thought. Wet to the skin, you are, and from what I can see in this dimness, Pip's no better off. A sudden shiver set in, rattling his teeth, and for the moment rendering speech too difficult for the exhausted hobbit to manage.

But the young Thain did not answer his escort's question; not right away, anyhow. Instead, he pressed Ferdi's arm and said, inexplicably, 'You're shivering. That's better.'

When Ferdi was able to unclench his teeth again, he hissed, 'Better?'

'As I was carrying you to shelter, the rain turned to sleet. I can't remember feeling so c-cold in my life... well, I s-suppose I can...'

For, of course, Pippin's greatest betrayal of Ferdi had begun when the younger cousin, not long after he'd come of age, tricked his escort with a play on words and rode off alone into a storm that had started as rain and turned into falling ice. Caught out, he'd nearly died of the cold, and later, of the lung fever that set in afterwards. Thain Paladin had blamed Ferdi, who'd been Pip's escort then as now, for neglecting his duty. Although Pip had tried hard to make amends since returning to the Tookland to follow his father as Thain, how could he expect to restore the years the locusts had eaten?

But the younger cousin was still talking, through increasing shivers that were evident in his voice. 'When I g-got you here, you were t-too cold to shiver! Tha—that's a bad sign, Ferdi, as I know all t-too w-well from our t-time climbing Caradhras...'

That was a reference to Pip's time in the Outlands, Ferdi thought. Must be. I've never heard of any hill named Caradhras here in the Shire, not even in the North Farthing. But he'd lost the thread of conversation again.

Ferdi could hear the shivers in his younger cousin's voice worsening as Pippin continued. '...s-so shivering is a g-good thing, as it t-turns out! One of the—the s-signs of life, as it w-w-were...'

The young Thain fell blessedly silent at this point, possibly because the chattering of his own teeth made speech too difficult to attempt. Then the pressure of his hand on Ferdi's arm disappeared. The escort forced one eye open and turned his head slightly. It was surprisingly difficult to focus his vision, but at last he saw that his younger cousin was now hugging himself as he shook with cold.

'...a fire?' the escort fumbled. He'd meant to ask if they could risk making a fire despite the danger posed by the barrels of black powder, but the words had come out so softly as he began the thought, that even he had trouble hearing them.

Pippin shook his head and managed to say, 'N-nothing to burn here.'

'Nothing...?' Ferdi forced out, attempting to sit up. Pip wasn't much help, if any, caught in the throes of ever-more-violent shivering.

The escort squinted and, with an effort, scrutinised the cavern. Dim light entered to one side of them – the opening to the outside world, he thought, but the impossibly heavy door was nowhere to be seen, nor could he see any sign of the overhang just outside the entrance to the store-hole.

Moreover, he could see the ceiling of this cavern, even without a lantern – unlike the enormous store-hole. And though the interior wall opposite the opening was shadowy and difficult to make out, it was not completely hidden in darkness. This underground refuge had to be much smaller than the store-hole.

Memory of that other, smaller cavern delved into the base of Hoard Hill returned to Ferdi's sluggish brain. The – the Dwarf-stables? he hazarded. He found it difficult to believe that they'd enjoyed a leisurely lunch here only a few hours ago, blessing the natural chill of the underground space along as they'd sought a brief respite from the unseasonable warmth and glare of the Sun before climbing the hill to achieve their aim.

Though Ferdi could not hear his own voice in his ears, Pippin had evidently read the words on his lips. Still beyond speech, the young Thain nodded.

The chill that seized the Thain's escort in the next moment took away Ferdi's breath along with his capacity for thought. Like Pippin, he wrapped his arms around himself, desperate for some sensation of warmth, then drew up his knees and hugged them to his chest, for all the good it did.

A fire, that's what was needed. Lacking that, even dry clothing would do some good.

He might as well wish for a hot bath, a steaming drink, and warm bedcovers to curl himself under, along with a bedwarmer for his icy feet, before giving himself up to sleep.

Ferdi opened his eyes wide at the sudden realisation that he was feeling increasingly sleepy.

'Pip!' he managed somehow, in between fits of shivering. 'Pip!' he said louder, to be rewarded by seeing his younger cousin's eyes open and fix themselves upon him. Now that he had Pippin's attention, he said as firmly as he could through chattering teeth, 'M-mustn't sleep!'

The young Thain nodded again, a certain vagueness about the gesture communicating his deteriorating condition to the older cousin all too clearly, shocking Ferdi wider awake. 'Got to stay awake,' Pippin agreed, even as his eyes closed and his chin dipped lower, nearly touching his drawn-up knees.

Wet to the skin. The chilly cavern was better than gale-force wind and pelting ice, perhaps. No doubt about it, actually. That said, Ferdi was entertaining serious doubts that either of them would be able to survive their current predicament.

They'd never make it back to the Great Smials in this ice storm. But their chances of waiting out the storm, chilled to the bone and with no means of warming themselves, were equally grim.

You swore on your life... Ferdi's thoughts flowed sluggishly. I swore on my life... to defend the Thain and his family with my life...

The oath he'd sworn as he'd knelt before old Thain Paladin echoed in his memory – strangely, it seemed to the escort at this moment as if it had been a lifetime ago. 

...and only the Thain or death can release me from my oath...

*** 

Author's note: If you are interested in learning more about the real-life storm that inspired this story, look up the Armistice Day blizzard of 1940, which has been ranked as one of the deadliest winter storms in US history.

*** 

Chapter 10. As Cold as Death

A strangely disturbing feeling kept creeping into the pleasant dream Pippin was enjoying, threatening to awaken him. He held on stubbornly to the warm and hazy feeling, as if he were wrapped up in a blanket of sewn-together sheepskins, toasting his half-frozen toes by the cheery fire, smelling the promising aromas arising from the steaming stew-pot and the bread loaves baking on the stone.

He'd fallen asleep while on watch when the old shepherd had gone to fetch supplies and left him in charge of watching the flock, and awakened to find not a sheep in sight, and violent weather rapidly encroaching. Luckily, being creatures of habit, the bulk of the flock had meandered along to the next sheepfold along their line of travel. After he'd caught up with them, he counted them and secured them in the fastness of the fold, but the count came up short. The most valuable ewe in the flock, an exceptionally fine milker and mother, was missing with her twin lambs. Worse, Pippin's favourite ewe, "the auld love", due to lamb at any time, was also unaccounted for.

And so the old shepherd's young apprentice went out into the storm to seek the lost sheep.

Pippin shivered in his sleep, remembering how the water had come up in the valley where he found the "fine milker" and her lambs, and how he'd nearly drowned as he'd rescued them.

But... 'All's well,' he murmured in his sleep, throwing off the chill of memory and wiggling his toes in the dreamy firelight. He was safe in the shelter; old Shepherd Brockbank had arrived before Pippin returned with the last of the strays, worn-out and chilled to the bone. The shepherd had built a fire and stirred up a supper of hearty stew and fresh-baked bread and had been preparing to go out in search of his apprentice when Pippin came through the door. Seeing the state of his apprentice, close to collapse, the old shepherd had stripped away the tween's sopping clothing, rubbed Pippin down with sacking until his skin glowed, wrapped him in sheepskins, and sat him down close to the fire to thaw his outsides whilst coaxing him to sip from a mug of freshly-brewed tea, just off the boil, to thaw his insides. 

Out of the shadows on the other side of the hearth the dreaming Thain fancied he now heard Brockbank speaking. There’s things in this world that’re beyond our ken, laddie. P’rhaps there’s more for thee to be doin’ with thy life.

But I fell asleep, old hobbit, Pippin answered with an effort. But then he felt himself shaken, bringing him back painfully to wakefulness. He strove to open heavy eyelids without much success. The overlarge gloved hand that so firmly grasped his shoulder felt uncannily familiar... Memory stirred once more, deep within.

Boromir! he exclaimed. How came the Captain of Gondor to be part of this dream? You don't belong in this place! What're you doing here? 

I might ask the same of you, youngster, came Boromir's reply, and then the Man raised his voice to claim the Wizard's attention. This will be the death of the halflings, Gandalf, Pippin heard him say, just as he always did when he dreamed of Caradhras. It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves.

'...do something to save ourselves,' Pippin echoed, shaking his head, for the Captain of Gondor sounded unusually urgent. 

At least, the young Thain tried to shake his head. It lolled on his neck, rather, ending in a sharp dip and jerk that roused him to wakefulness.

Blinking, he looked around the shadowy cavern, a far cry from the small, cosy shelter he'd been dreaming.

Ferdi huddled nearby, curled in as tight a ball as he could form, head down and hugging his drawn-up knees. The cavern seemed dimmer than Pippin remembered, though a weak light streamed in at the entrance, indicating that night had not yet overtaken them.

The young Thain pushed himself to his feet and stood swaying a moment, then brought up his hands to hug himself, then vigorously rubbed his upper arms in an attempt to warm himself. 'No fire,' he said, 'nothing to burn here,' – an echo of his earlier conversation with Ferdibrand. He didn't even have the lantern – it had been lost in one of his tumbles as they'd descended Hoard Hill. He'd also lost his pack, but then what good would the coins do in this place? They'd only weigh him down.

Though Pippin wanted nothing more than to slip back into dream, he knew better than to do so. He forced himself to stagger towards the entrance. Perhaps the storm had calmed enough that they could start the homeward journey? Even if the cold and their weakness forced them to go slowly... even if they were unable to reach the Smials before darkness fell, Regi would be leading a search party in this direction as soon as they were deemed overdue and would likely meet them halfway with ponies to bear them, along with warm cloaks and blankets and food and drink.

Upon reaching the cavern entrance, Pippin looked out in wonder on a world gone white. Heavy snow was now falling, whipped by variable winds whose gusts shrieked and moaned like tormented spirits.

For many moments he stared, mesmerised by the falling, blowing snow. Then, curiously, Boromir's voice came to him as he'd so recently dreamed it: This will be the death of the halflings.... It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves.

'You have the right of it, my good Captain,' Pippin murmured, and added, 'Nothing to burn here.' They might survive in this inadequate shelter by moving continuously, generating warmth through movement. But they were already exhausted from the perilous descent of Hoard Hill from the store-hole to the valley floor while enduring the assault of the storm. How long could they hold out here? The lack of a warming fire was not the only problem they faced.

'A small store of firewood, neatly stacked, just like the Rangers left behind,' the young Thain whispered to his ghostly companion. 'That's what's needed. If I get back to the Smials – I mean, when I get back to the Smials, I'll see to it that a traveller's rest is established here for Tooks and Tooklanders stranded by circumstances and in need of shelter. So,' he continued, ticking off his thoughts on his fingers as he spoke. 'A stack of firewood, with strikers, and a tinderbox with flint-and-steel into the bargain, for starters. A store of food, as well, the kind of supplies that would keep well under these conditions – travellers' rations! There's already a spring of clear water in the hillside... but then, I'd forgot, you were not there at Weathertop with us, but only joined us at Rivendell.'

He thought he saw dream-Boromir nod.

But why bide here i' this bare an' dismal place? dream-Brockbank whispered.

'We cannot venture out in this!' Pippin protested. 'We'd never reach the Smials – it's too far, and worse, we might lose ourselves on the way!'

Just past the next hill, the old shepherd insisted. Why, laddie, I know ye ken the land hereabouts, e'en though ye ken not the land betwixt here and yon Great Smials half so well! We walked it together enough times, thae and me and th' dogs and our woolly charges!

Galvanised by the memory, Pippin stood abruptly straighter. He'd walked this part of the Green Hill country in his circuits with his father's flock and their guardian, the old shepherd! And truly, one of their way-stations was just the other side of the next great hill to the west of Hoard Hill! He knew the path well enough to walk it in daylight or dark of night, under calm conditions or in the wildest of weather.

Even snow? he asked himself.

Dream-Frodo spoke up then, interrupting Pippin's thoughts. You used to boast you could find your way blind-folded, at least in this part of the Green Hill country... Don't you remember that time I took you at your word? I certainly do!

Despite the desperate situation they were in, Pippin found himself grinning. I didn't do so badly, at that!

He could have sworn a phantom hand ruffled the curls atop his head, a familiar feeling from his youth. Not at all, Pip! Blind-folded! Who would have thought it?!

Pippin closed his eyes, and a tear crept from under one lid and rolled down his cheek. 'How I miss you, dearest of cousins! But somehow you are still helping me out of my scrapes, even now, though you are only a memory...'

As he opened his eyes and turned away from the entrance, he could almost hear Frodo's snort, followed by the mock-indignant protest, Who're you calling "only a memory"?!

'You, dear cousin, o' course!' he replied aloud.

Ferdi stirred and groaned. 'What about me?' the escort said.

Pippin moved to his side, crouched to take hold of his hand, and lifted his older cousin's arm over his shoulders. 'You're going to live up to your oath, cousin, and safeguard the Thain as you swore to do! I certainly have no intention of releasing you from your oath, nor do I intend to allow Death to do so!' And pushing up with his legs, he hauled Ferdi to his feet.

'How...?' Ferdi mumbled, shaking his head to clear it. Pippin was glad to see awareness sharpen his cousin's eyes as the head of escort turned his head to scrutinise the Thain. 'What're we...?'

'You know this country as a hunter... know it as well as you know the fur on your feet,' Pippin told him. 'Whist I know this country – this exact part of the Green Hills, as a matter of fact! Quite fortuitously for us! – as an apprentice shepherd who, half a lifetime ago, followed the sheep hither and yon! And so, together, I deem, we ought to be able to find our way to safety...'

'Too far,' Ferdi said, for his gaze had moved from Pippin to the entrance, and he was staring at the falling, blowing snow. He shook his head. 'The freezing rain was bad enough, along with the punishing winds, that we agreed it would be death to try to get back to the Smials until after the wind dropped and the ice stopped falling. But now, with snow coming down so thickly and the wind blowing it into drifts, I wager we willna be able to see our hands in front of our faces once we step outside the cavern! Even if we don't lose our way, we'll never reach the Smials in this...' 

'No, but I know of a way-station within our reach,' Pippin said. 'And I've fought my way through worse snow than this, I'll have you know!'

'So cold,' Ferdi said, as if he had not been heeding his Thain.

Pippin clapped him on the back. 'The exercise will be warming!' he said. 'Think on't as an added bonus into the bargain!'

Seeming to come awake again, the head of escort nodded. 'Lead on, O Took,' he said.

'Let's hope this comes out better than that old story did,' Pippin answered, sliding a steadying arm around his older cousin. 'Tally-ho!'

By common accord, the two cousins paused on the threshold for a deep breath before plunging into the blinding blizzard, holding tightly to each other and helping each other along through the blowing, drifting snow.

*** 

Three days later, Pippin suddenly interrupted himself in the middle of the story he was telling. 'Did you hear that?'

Though the young Thain had miraculously suffered no lingering effects of their ordeal, his head of escort had not been quite so lucky. The chill Ferdi had taken had turned into a heavy cold, but he was well-wrapped up, warmed by the fire, and on the mend. Once the storm blew itself out, Pippin had considered leaving Ferdi here and hiking through the snow to the Great Smials, but he knew his head of escort would never countenance such a plan. Despite fever and a racking cough, Ferdi would undoubtedly insist on accompanying the Thain – and he'd probably catch his death along the way. That would never do. No, but the better course seemed to be to wait until Ferdi's fever should break, or rescuers found them, whichever came first. He also had complete confidence that Steward Reginard would not rest so long as the Thain was missing.

Ferdi looked up from the stew he was stirring, made up from the dried meat and vegetables they'd found on the pantry shelves of the shepherds' way-station. 'Thickening nicely,' he rasped, and then added, almost absently, 'Did I hear what?' 

But the young Thain had already risen from the fireside, crossed to the door and thrown it open.

Ferdi started up at the clear call of a hunting horn. 'Searchers!'

'The muster has reached us,' Pippin confirmed. 'They likely scoured the countryside between the Smials and Hoard Hill and then spread out to search farther afield...' He leaned out the door, cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice to a mighty shout. 'View halloo!'

A gust of wind blew in through the open doorway, flattening the flames on the little hearth. Pippin hastily stepped outside and slammed the door firmly closed behind him. 'Wouldn't want the fire to go out, what with the stew so close to bubbling and all!' he muttered to himself. Then he shouted again, and was rewarded by hearing a distant yell, followed by a flurry of horns. 'We're here!' he called for good measure, standing on tip-toe and craning for a view of the approaching hunters. As they came around the hillside, he waved vigorously.

After seeing his wave returned, he ducked back into the shelter. 'Company's coming!'

'They have impeccable timing,' Ferdi said. Though his cousin's tone was as nonchalant as ever, Pippin detected relief replacing the subtle tension that had dogged the head of escort ever since they had stumbled out of the storm and through the doorway into this refuge. 'Just in time for tea!'

'It must have been Frodo's Tookish side that gave him such cunning in getting up just in time for a meal,' Pippin said in oblique reply.

'What brings that wandering hobbit to mind?' Ferdi said, though he was quick to replace his look of confusion with his usual bland expression.

Pippin shrugged. 'Wandering is just the word,' he said. 'I once won a wager on this very spot, I'll have you know.'

'Did you now?' Ferdi said, interested. 'With Frodo Baggins? I'd had the impression he was a canny hobbit who so seldom lost a wager, hardly anyone would bet against him!'

'He was, at that,' Pippin said, and at Ferdi's raised eyebrow was prompted to add, 'a canny hobbit, I mean. Someday I really ought to tell you, for your own good...'

But Ferdi had raised a staying hand. 'Bite your tongue,' the older cousin said firmly, 'if this has anything to do with an adventure of any sort...! Perish the thought.' And then he turned his full attention back to his stirring.

Pippin stared at him, momentarily bemused. One day... he said under his breath, a promise of sorts to himself, as well as his beloved, absent cousin.

But then the door was thrust open, and too many bodies to fit the confined space of the shelter, intended for a shepherd and one or two helpers, were spilling in through the doorway, cheeks red from the cold and the exercise of hiking through thigh-deep snow and digging their way past smial-high drifts, and their voices raised in glad exclamation. 

'Thain Peregrin! Ferdibrand! Found! Found safe at last!'

*** 

Author's notes:

As mentioned earlier, Pippin's brief apprenticeship to a shepherd is described in the story Thain, a work-in-progress that is due to post in full in 2026. (Think good thoughts, if you wouldn't mind.) 

Some phrases will likely sound familiar as they echo passages sprinkled throughout The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. The chapter title is taken from one of Gollum's riddles in The Hobbit.

*** 

Epilogue

~ a few days later ~

At a shout from the steward, Thain Peregrin looked up. Found it! He returned Regi's wave, then watched the hobbits of the escort converge on the spot, scrutinising the ground. Evidently some of the coins had spilled from the pack when it had separated from its bearer.

'That's excellent news,' Pippin said to Ferdibrand, sitting on a pony at his side, watching over the young Thain at the same time as Thain Peregrin had watched his hobbits of the escort comb the hillside for the coin-filled packs they'd lost in the storm. 'That ought to be the last of it.' He patted the pack, laid across his lap, that had been found an hour earlier.

'It will have to be counted,' Ferdi warned.

The young Thain laughed. 'No doubt Regi will insist! But to my mind, if some wanderer had found either or both of them, surely he'd have either picked up the pack to try and find its owner, or else taken all and not just part, whether he'd stumbled across your pack – or mine – or both together...'

'They were not together,' objected Ferdi. 'Else my hobbits would have found them more quickly!'

'Perhaps they were not,' Pippin said, momentarily distracted. 'For the searchers only just now found the second pack. Thus, if both packs had been together in that place they would have just now found this pack, as well,' he concluded, referring to the pack Regi had brought to him an hour ago.

'It's always in the last place you look,' Ferdi grumbled under his breath, and Pippin laughed again.

'O' course!' he said merrily. 'For why would you go on looking once you'd found what you were looking for?'

'Snow's melting nicely,' Ferdi said next, suddenly changing the subject, for the conversation was veering too far into the territory of whimsy for his comfort. 

Pippin suppressed a sigh. Their recent ordeal might have thawed the cousins' strained relationship somewhat, but he could feel the wall between them solidifying once more: gentry versus common hobbit. Ferdi was "gentry" by blood and birth, "common" by circumstance – and at that, Pippin could hardly think of his older cousin as common in any application of the term. Like Pippin, he was descended from the Old Took. Thain Paladin had acknowledged him as one of the heroes of the Tookland for his exploits during the Troubles. He'd also recently proven himself – once again – the top archer in the Shire at the annual All-Shire Tournament.

But here they were, talking about the weather as if they were strangers and not close cousins. Pippin briefly contemplated his response. If he were merely polite, he'd simply echo Ferdi's observation: Aye, melting nicely. 

Instead, he said, 'You were right, you know, and I was wrong.'

'Sir?' Ferdi said, understandably confused.

Pippin met his escort's questioning gaze firmly. 'Had I not slipped the escort that day... had I not tricked you so that I could ride off alone to Buckland – only to be caught out by the weather...'

He saw Ferdi move uneasily at his choice of topic but forged ahead anyhow. 'Had I waited a day, as I made you believe I intended to do, then the storm would have swept over the land, but I would not have been in it.' Pippin spoke dispassionately, belying the ruin his impulsive decision had made of his life as well as Ferdi's. His damaged lungs were a constant reminder of his error – and worse, because of that youthful folly, Death was all too likely to carry him off much sooner than later. His time was short, and he must make the most of it.

'On the other hand, if I had told you I was leaving a day early – had allowed you to accompany me as my father wished you to do...' I can see now, how different the outcome might have been, Pippin thought to himself. Just as we helped each other to safety in this recent storm, so we might have combined our wit and our strength to reach shelter, all those years ago. Our lives might have been completely different...

But Ferdi surprised him. 'Had I travelled with you that day, we might have perished together in that long-ago ice storm,' the older cousin said reflectively. He looked over, met Pippin's astonished look, and nodded. 'Thinking back on this recent storm, I would've died of cold-sickness in that cavern, I think, had it not been for your knowledge of the shepherds' way-station and your insistence that we take the risk of seeking its shelter.'

It was nowhere close to an acceptance of Pippin's profuse apologies for his past actions, but the younger cousin thought there just might be a crack in the wall that divided the cousins, with the tiniest of rays of sunlight shining through.

But then Ferdi retreated again to safer ground; he cleared his throat and repeated, 'At the rate the snow's melting, it will have disappeared like a Mad Baggins in another day or two.'

'O aye,' Pippin said for want of anything better. He squinted at the top of Hoard Hill, looming above them, and ventured a cautious step or two past the borders of strict politeness. 'The hilltops will remain snow-covered, perhaps,' he agreed. 'But the valleys will soon be as green as they ever were.'

As a matter of course, the young Thain refrained from voicing the observation that this country would better be named the White Hill country  (at least in the wintertime), or the Green Valley country, perhaps. Nevertheless, despite his efforts to spare his cousin's sensibilities, Pippin turned his head and caught a quizzical look on his older cousin's face before Ferdi resumed his usual bland expression. 'What is it?' he asked.

'I beg your pardon, Sir,' Ferdi answered.

'You have it,' Pippin granted, but then he persisted. 'But I want to know what you were thinking just now...'

'Thinking, Sir?' Ferdi said.

Setting aside his earlier resolve, Pippin said, 'Yes, you know, what happens inside your head – at least, I assume that something happens inside that thick skull of yours, and that it's not completely void of all thought...'

'Sir,' Ferdi said stiffly, the strongest protest a working hobbit could voice against one of the gentry who was overstepping his place.

'Before we were Thain and escort, we were cousins, Ferdi,' Pippin said. 'I know that look of yours all too well... There's something you're not telling me that you ought to be telling me, only you thought better of it before you opened your mouth and actually said it...' 

Ferdi seemed to sit in the saddle as still as a stone troll, but his mare moved uneasily under him, betraying his inner turmoil.

The head of escort remained silent in the face of the Thain's scrutiny, his face expressionless, but Pippin stared him down. At last, reluctantly, he answered Pippin's question. 'It's what you said, there in the cavern, when I could see no way through the problem of ensuring your safety.'

'What I said?' Pippin queried, tilting his head slightly.

'I'm responsible for your safety, as you know,' Ferdi said as if in explanation, though as an explanation, it did not go very far in Pippin's estimation.

Still, the young Thain decided to follow Ferdi's lead and see where the conversation might go. With a grin that was more of a grimace, he answered wryly, 'How well I am aware of that fact.' Continuing to eye his cousin closely, he added, 'I'd be perfectly happy to take over all such responsibility from you on that account...'

Ferdi shrugged. 'Tell it to the steward.' Such an answer might have bordered on insolence if not for his neutral tone, and the truth of the matter.

Reginard had taken the idea of the Thain's escort very seriously since an early point in the time of the Troubles, when Lotho Sackville-Baggins had arranged for serious "accidents" to befall Thain Paladin and the Master of Buckland as the self-styled Chief had sought to consolidate his power. Lobelia, after her release from the Lockholes, had revealed Lotho's role in those incidents, confirming Regi's suspicions. Before her death the following Spring, she had even begged Paladin's pardon for her son's wrongdoings.

Though the Troubles were far behind them, and despite all the arguments Pippin could muster, Regi stood firm in his insistence that the Thain's escort remained essential and must continue to shadow the Thain and his family. If only they would leave him to his own devices, Pippin would have been content to see his immediate family protected: specifically, Eglantine, Diamond and Faramir. But no. As the Thain of the Tooks, he was doomed to suffer the inconvenience – nay, aggravation! – of being followed by archers nearly everywhere he went. Thankfully he'd been able to persuade Regi that he'd be perfectly safe in Buckland under Merry's watchful eye, or the poor beleaguered young Thain would never have been able to find a moment of peace to think his own thoughts.

Even worse, the steward had been hinting lately at expanding the escort, adding more archers to ensure that unforeseen circumstances would not spread them too thin in fulfilling their duty to adequately protect the Thain as well as his immediate loved ones.

As Ferdi showed no signs of bringing them back from the side trail that seemed to have diverted them from the subject of interest, Pippin took up the thread of conversation once more. 'What was it you wished to ask of me?'

Ferdi blinked and then dropped his eyes. 'I would ask nothing of you, Thain,' he said stiffly. 'I have all I need, and more.' But then, dire circumstances had forced the hobbit to live on the Thain's charity in his youth, and spiteful old Mistress Lalia had thrown his destitute state in his face.

'No,' Pippin pressed, for he had the notion that the topic he was pursuing was important to his cousin somehow. 'I fear you've mistaken my meaning. From what I gathered just now, you were referring to something I said, there in the cavern...'

The escort's face cleared, and he raised his eyes to meet Pippin's gaze once more. 'You said...'

'Go on,' Pippin encouraged when his older cousin hesitated.

After a pause to consider, Ferdi nodded. 'It's not as if we won't survive this situation,' he said, sounding uncannily like the young Thain, 'though in truth, you actually meant the opposite.'

Pippin thought back to their conversations in the cavern as they had attempted to wait out the storm. Only a few days had passed since their rescue, yet that bleak time was misty in his memory, more dream than reality. 'Well, at the time...' he began, but the older cousin interrupted.

'You said it was about as bad as bad could be,' Ferdi said. Resuming his own voice, he added, 'Those were your very words. Along with, Though we may not come out of this...'

'Ah,' Pippin said. Ferdi was probably right; he had likely said such a thing. The two cousins had been exhausted, chilled to the bone, stranded in a violent storm without fire or food or even dry clothing, and sheltering in a cave that kept off the rain, ice and snow and blocked the wind but offered about the same degree of warmth as the beer cellars in the Great Smials.

'The Tooks will survive, and with them, the Tookland,' Ferdi recounted, his eyes fixed on the great hill that rose before them. 'That is what I remember you saying.' His gaze returned to Pippin as he asked, 'But do you really believe it's true? ...that the Tookland will survive without your hand on the reins?'  

'Well of course,' Pippin said, taken aback. '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...' 

But Ferdi was shaking his head. 'I beg to differ, cousin,' he said very quietly, speaking cousin-to-cousin now, Pippin thought, and not as the head of escort addressing the Thain.

Some years earlier, before he'd gone there and back again, through fire and battle, ruin and death, healing and restoration... before he'd betrayed this cousin's trust and left him to bear Paladin's wrath... before he'd ridden into an ice storm and nearly died... before he'd been elevated to the position of Steward of Buckland and served Merry and the Brandybucks' homeland with all his heart and mind... before the Tooks had called him back to fulfil his duty to his own homeland... Pippin might have made a joke of it, to lighten the heavy conversation.

Now, instead, the young Thain maintained silence for a moment, firmly meeting Ferdi's gaze. At last, he spoke, as quietly as his older cousin had bare moments before. 'Help me to understand, cousin.'

Ferdi lifted his eyes again to the hills around them, as if he sought comfort in the familiar sight of the wild Green Hills where he was more at home than in the more rarefied atmosphere of the Great Smials, and then he spoke. 'In the short time since you returned to us,' he said, 'things have changed.'

Pippin nodded. Short and to the point, the kind of obvious reflection that Shire-folk appreciated. 'They have,' he acknowledged.

For some reason, Ferdi found that reply wanting. 'No,' he said. After a pause for consideration, he began again. 'You have changed,' he emphasised. 'You are not the reckless young hobbit I once knew. At least, you don't seem to be.'

'I should hope not,' Pippin said fervently.

Ferdi's lips tightened – a smile or grimace, Pippin was not sure which it might be. But the escort resumed. 'Moreover, the Tooks have changed – and not for the better. The Troubles – they marked us.' 

'I don't understand,' Pippin admitted slowly.

As he'd mentioned the Troubles, pain had replaced Ferdi's bland expression. Now, leaving his reins to lie on his lap, the archer raised his hands, palms upward in seeming entreaty. He took a shaking breath, causing Pippin to stare at him in astonishment.

But Ferdi seemed to have forgotten his Thain's presence for the moment. He stared at nothing; and then he said haltingly, 'The lives I've taken – the blood will never wash away.'

'Ferdi...' Pippin breathed in dismay.

Ferdi nodded, once again acknowledging his younger cousin, though he continued to look into the far distance as he spoke on. 'We defended the Tookland,' – in truth, the archer had nearly given his life for his homeland – 'but we were forced to kill to do so, Pip.' His voice broke as he made this confession, and his eyes briefly closed. Opening them again, he fixed his gaze on his empty hands and shuddered. 'Out of all the archers... all who kept the borders... too many have paid a terrible price. And your father...'

'What about my father?' Pippin said numbly.

Still staring at his hands, Ferdi replied, 'He sent hobbits into danger. Regi said it haunted him, "sending hobbits out to die", as he saw it. And he ordered the deaths of Lotho's men once we discovered the hobbit was hiring half-orcs... monsters... to hurl against the Tooks, to bring us down to our doom.' The archer took up his reins once more and turned haunted eyes to Pippin. 'He was never the same after that... he never quite recovered from the horror and grief, though he hid it as well as he could...'

Shaken, the young Thain remained silent. His own difficulties with his father had blinded him to Paladin's pain. He'd thought he'd known all he needed to know about his father, yet since his return to Tookland, he'd learned so much more. Not for the first time, he wished he could go back and talk to his father – no, not just talk, but listen. He bowed his head, and tears spilled from his eyes.

But Ferdi was still talking. 'It took the heart out of us, the Thain and the proud Tooks who followed him. All we had was our pride. Empty, twisted pride – so Lotho's ruffians never burned our homes and fields or cut down our trees or gathered the fruits of our labours as they did in the Outer Shire... but there was little of joy in our defiance – nor even in the Shire-folks' victory!' Lower, he added, 'After the Shire was set free, we were left to lick our wounds in our hard-won peace. It might ha' been better had the ruffians pillaged our homeland, leaving us to rebuild...'

In shock, Pippin looked up, dashing away the tears he'd wept. 'Bite your tongue, Ferdi!' he remonstrated.

'Because we kept Lotho's Men from laying waste to Tookland's trees, we never needed Mayor Sam's services. All that time he was going about the Four Farthings planting trees, he never came to the Tookland,' Ferdi said. With a tinge of bitterness, he went on, 'We never saw the need – we never asked him to come, bringing with him his common sense and wisdom and understanding and... and generosity.' Suddenly sorrowful, he added, 'I'd almost forgotten what kind-heartedness looked like, until the first time he came to the Smials to greet you as the new Thain...'

Pippin was struck dumb. He'd come home to a Tookland that had seemed untouched by Lotho's greed and malice. By comparison, the Shire had suffered obvious harm. Pippin remembered his first impressions upon the Travellers' return, greeted by great spiked gates that blocked the Bridge of Stonebows and tall ugly buildings with narrow straight-sided windows, bare and dimly lit, all very gloomy and un-Shirelike. The worst of it had been the change wrought in the hobbits who'd guarded the Bridge and who'd attempted to escort them to Frogmorton. In the back of his head, Pippin could hear Sam's summation: No welcome, no beer, no smoke, and a lot of rules and orc-talk instead.

The Tooks, by contrast, had been refreshingly Tookish: strong, proud, and spoiling for a fight. No, he thought to himself in sudden startlement, spoiling for a fight would have been all wrong for hobbits! I only found their attitude refreshing in light of the Outer Shire's captivity in contrast to the Tookland's resistance!

Ferdi might have mistaken Pippin's silence for inattention or, perhaps, a lack of understanding on the young Thain's part. Impulsively, he reached out to grasp Pippin's arm. 'You came at last, and you brought healing with you, Thain!' he said urgently. 'In the short months since you've been here, you've seen to it that widows and gaffers have enough wood to keep warm, and enough food to eat – without having to suffer the mortification of the Thain's charity! For you've sought to uphold their dignity, as if they are the ones doing you the favours even if they can only serve the Tookland in small ways – or not at all, due to circumstances and through no fault of their own.'

'But of course,' Pippin said. 'That's how it should be.'

Ferdi shook his head. 'You don't understand,' he said in wonder. 'It hasn't been that way – not since the Troubles.' He fisted his right hand and thumped his thigh to emphasise his thoughts. 'No – longer! Not since the time of Mistress Lalia! For her name lives on as a byword for meanness and spite, though few will say so in as many words...'

While Pippin was digesting this remarkable idea, Ferdi swallowed hard and went on. 'The Tookland needs you, cousin, even though we Tooks are too proud to admit to such. We need the new ideas you bring, and the new eyes – to look outside ourselves, to think outside ourselves, to learn new ways... and...'

'And?' the young Thain asked gently.

'And new hope,' the older cousin whispered. 'We've lived without hope, without wonder, without joy, for so long...' He withdrew his hand from Pippin's arm, bowed his head and sighed. 

Had Pippin not been listening with his complete attention, he might have missed his cousin's next words. 

'I'm so weary,' Ferdi murmured under his breath, shoulders slumping.

Suddenly, the young Thain saw his head of escort in a new light. Paladin had repeatedly sent Ferdi into deadly danger to gather information, to be ready to meet the ruffians' next moves in their attempt to overrun the Tookland and subdue the Tooks and Tooklanders to Lotho's will. The fate of Pippin's homeland and its people had rested especially heavily on Ferdi's shoulders – his, and those of the other spies who'd ventured into the Outer Shire and seen the ruin being perpetrated on the land and the Shire-folk. The information they'd gathered had helped Paladin and Reginard formulate their plans to keep the Tookland free and seemingly intact.

But, as he could clearly see now, not unaffected...

Moreover, he understood better now, he thought, the driving force behind Ferdi's stubborn watchfulness and dedication to his duty to safeguard the Thain, in general, and Pippin, in particular. The archer was still doing everything in his power to protect his homeland. In essence, he was still fighting Lotho, along with that hobbit's minions – whether men, complicit hobbits, or monstrous half-orcs – and the blight they'd imposed, the result of greed and malice, which still lingered in the Tookland and troubled her inhabitants.

Pippin reached to rest an encouraging hand on the older cousin's shoulder. 'You gave your all in the defence of the Tookland, Ferdi, heart and soul and spirit, and very nearly your life. But now, I promise to take up the fight – to bring her through to a new day...'

'The Tookland needs you,' Ferdi whispered, eyes downcast, as if he hadn't heard or perhaps had not understood the implications of Pippin's pledge. 

'Ferdi,' the young Thain said sternly, and waited until the archer looked up to meet his demanding gaze. Softening his voice, he added, 'I promise, dear cousin, I'll not leave her – not willingly – until my task is through, and I've prepared others to take up the reins after me.'

'Promise...' Ferdi echoed.

Pippin nodded firmly. 'I will make it my aim,' he said, and raised his right hand as if swearing an oath. 'It is my purpose that the Tooks shall survive, nay, that they shall heal and grow and thrive... and the Tookland with them.'

Ferdi stared into Pippin's eyes, blinking away tears, but his relief shone clearly. 'I can ask no more than that.'

Pippin laughed. 'I should think you could ask a great deal more!' he started to say, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the steward, hefting the second recovered pack filled with coins.

'Here we are!' Regi said cheerfully. 'I should say, the packs are heavy enough, I might hope that nothing more was lost when you or Ferdi tumbled down the hill besides the few coins we scoured from the ground.'

'But you'll count out every coin in both packs anyhow,' Pippin observed, then turned his pony's head towards home. 'Let's get back and set to work. There's so much to be done...'

~ * ~ *~ * THE END * ~ * ~ * ~

Final notes:

While my aim is to write stories that can stand alone, for the sake of convenience, I've included links to earlier-published stories that underlie the background and relationships in this tale.

The freakish weather in this story was inspired by accounts of the Armistice Day storm that battered the U.S. Midwest in November 1940. I prefer to believe that the number of hobbits caught out in the weather was few because the wind and rain began in the middle of the day when people would have still been busy about their work, not yet free to take up their bows to hunt the wild migratory birds that had begun appearing in increasing numbers that morning. Unfortunately, the nature of the Thain's work that day put him and his head of escort at risk. No disrespect is intended towards the people who actually experienced that historic weather event.

As noted early on, this story builds on events in StarFire.

The incident wherein Pippin tricks Ferdi and rides into an ice storm, along with subsequent events, is described in Flames and Jewels.

The effect of Mistress Lalia's malice on the hobbits around her can be found in Pearl of Great Price.

Pippin's brief experience as a shepherd's apprentice takes place in Thain. 

Some background information about the Tooks' battle to survive and remain free during the Troubles appears in The Rescue. 

The Tooks' deep reverence for life reflects Frodo's observation in 'The Scouring of the Shire': 'No hobbit has ever killed another on purpose in the Shire.... And nobody is to be killed at all, if it can be helped.' In Honour, Tookish archers mark their enduring gratitude to Frodo for preventing them from 'slaying those of their enemies who threw down their weapons ... in their wrath at their losses' [included in Tolkien's description of the Battle of Bywater].

To read about Lotho's schemes against the Thain and the Master of Buckland, along with Regi's reinstatement of the Thain's escort after Paladin had discontinued it, see Flames. 

Lastly, Pippin's first impression of the damage Lotho had done to the Shire, as seen in this story's Epilogue, comes from 'The Scouring of the Shire' in The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien, from which a few words and phrases have been borrowed.