Chapter 15. Departure

At last the Thain tapped out his pipe, glanced up at the stars, and said, ‘For mercy’s sake, we might as well take up residence at this rate.’

 ‘I’m sorry,’ Sam said. ‘I could call for another search if you wish.’

 ‘No, Sam,’ Pippin said, laying a hand on the other’s shoulder. ‘You’ve had enough to do this day without a wayward son of the Thain to worry after. I’ll go and find him.’ He nodded to the driver, who got down again from the box and moved to the heads of the lead ponies. ‘You go on back to Bag End, see that everything’s set to rights there and your little ones are tucked up. I’ll pop my head in the door when I’ve collared my wandering boy.’

He skirted the Party Field, guessing rightly that Robin had gone in search there, amongst the thinning crowd of merrymakers. Passing Bag End, he followed the little lane round the corner of the Hill, towards the Old Orchard.

***

When the search was disbanded with the welcome news that Chancellor Ferdibrand had been found safe, Farry went to where the coaches and waggons of the Tooks were lining up. No one was in the Thain’s coach as of yet, and the driver told him that his father was taking a last sip of something up at the Mayor’s. Farry brightened. He might yet have a chance to make things right with Goldi.

He found her with Hodge, watching the torch-lit dancers rather than dancing themselves. As a matter of fact, Hodge was just saying to Goldi, ‘I had better get you back to the smial. It’s past middle night, and Rose-Mum said that all you girls ought to be in by...’

 ‘I’ll walk her back,’ Faramir broke in, ‘if it’s all right with you, that is, Hodge,’ he added.

The miller’s son looked from one to the other, finally saying, ‘If Goldi doesn’t mind.’

Farry held his breath for the girl looked unaccountably solemn before she smiled and held out her hand. ‘I’ll gladly walk back with you, Faramir,’ she said formally. No friendly “Hairy-Farry” or jab on the arm, Farry thought, vaguely disturbed.

They walked up towards the smial by the back way, but instead of turning right towards the kitchen door Goldi pulled Farry to the left, walking down the end of the lane to the Old Orchard. Goldi let go Farry’s hand and ran lightly to their favourite tree, climbing into the branches.

 ‘Goldi!’ Farry cried. ‘What are you on about? I’m supposed to take you home!’

 ‘Seems as if I can think better up here,’ Goldi replied, her eyes on the stars peeping through the treetop. She breathed deeply of the night-scented air. Farry climbed up after, settling on his usual limb. ‘Isn’t it marvellous?’

 ‘It is, but...’ Farry began.

 ‘O Farry, don’t be so serious!’ Goldi scolded. ‘All is well with the world, nothing bad happened today and a great deal of good.’

 ‘But I have something serious to say,’ Farry said determinedly, getting up his courage. It was now or never... for what better time than in the leafy green of a tree with the Moon and stars smiling down.

 ‘Farry, don’t,’ Goldi said, putting up a shadowy hand.

But he forged ahead, saying, ‘We could be handfasted, you know. Even though we’re too young to marry, it would be a promise for the future, and...’

 ‘Farry, no,’ Goldi said, breaking in, stunning him to silence. He thought she’d jump at the idea, seeing how she worried at the attention of all those other lasses... and their ambitious mothers.

 ‘What... what do you mean?’ he stammered.

He could hear the sad smile in her voice as she answered. ‘Why, Farry, before today I’d have jumped at the idea, you know? ...never thinking of how we so oft quarrel...’

 ‘We make it up,’ he protested.

She went on as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘...of how we hurt each other without thinking, how...’

 ‘We’re learning,’ he said desperately. ‘My da is always on about “heedless tweens” and how I ought to be more thoughtful and I am trying, Goldi, really...’

 ‘It wouldn’t be right,’ she said, sad but firm. ‘My Dad and Mum are always cautioning us to think things through, to heed the consequences, to consider the cost, to look to the future. If we were handfasted now it would be for life, Farry, and I’m not sure...’

 ‘Goldi!’ he cried in an agony of feeling.

 ‘O Farry,’ she said, and he contained himself with an effort. He did not want her pity.

 ‘It’s all right, Goldi,’ he said bravely. ‘You can have all the time you want to think things through.’

She smiled and extended a hand, and Faramir took it, though he wanted so much more.

 ‘I knew I could count on you,’ she said. ‘And no matter what happens...’

Farry had a dreadful feeling he knew what she was going to say next.

 ‘We’ll always be friends, won’t we?’

He swallowed hard at this death knell to his hopes. ‘Of course,’ he said, forcing himself to speak lightly, almost cheerily. ‘How not?’

Goldi shook his hand, released it, jumped down from the tree, catching and tearing the skirt of her frock in the process. She bit off an exclamation, then said ruefully, ‘Guess I didn’t heed the consequences very well, just now.’

 ‘I’ll walk you home,’ Farry said, jumping down beside her.

 ‘No, please, I’d like to have some time to myself,’ Goldi said. ‘Hodge has shadowed me all the day.’ When he would have protested she added in a tone that brooked no contradiction. ‘It’s my own orchard, just around the Hill from my own door. What could happen?’

Lots of things, Farry thought. But she was right. It was the Shire, after all, forever dull and settled and unexciting.

She held out her hand once more. ‘Good night, Master Took,’ she said formally.

 ‘Good night, Miss Gamgee,’ he replied.

She leaned forward to lay a gentle kiss on his cheek. Farry stood as if turned to stone. The old tree had witnessed their first kiss, and now it stood silent witness to their last.

With a sudden blush, though in the darkness no one but Goldi knew it, she giggled, drew her hand from his, picked up her skirts and hurried out of the Old Orchard.

Farry sank down with his back against their favourite tree and buried his face in his hands. He’d end like old Thain Ferumbras, he decided. He’d never marry; he’d have no heirs. His brother would have to be Thain after him, or a nephew, or a cousin.

Here his father found him some time later. ‘Farry?’ he said questioningly, then strode forward in alarm. ‘Farry, is it you?’ he asked the huddled hobbit. ‘Are you injured?’

 ‘I am well,’ Farry said, lifting his head, but the moonlight betrayed him, glistening from his face.

 ‘What is it, Son?’ Pippin said, settling beside him on the cooling grass. The joyful music coming from the Party Field played in jarring contrast to his son’s grief.

 ‘She doesn’t want me,’ Farry whispered. Pippin did not have to ask the name of the lass.

 ‘What did she say?’ he said.

 ‘She wants to be friends. Just friends,’ Faramir said, his voice breaking on the last word.

Pippin smiled slightly. ‘She’s young yet, Farry,’ he said, his eyes taking on a faraway look. ‘Why, I didn’t speak to your mother until she was thirty, or thereabouts.’

 ‘But you loved her for years before that,’ Faramir protested.

 ‘Aye, and her parents knew,’ Pippin said. ‘But she was too young. Had I spoken too soon, she’d have turned me away.’

Faramir nodded miserably.

 ‘Farry,’ Pippin said quietly. ‘You’ve had a butterfly light on your finger.’

Used to his father’s sudden changes of topic, but wondering what in the world the hobbit was on about now, Faramir said only, ‘Yes, Sir.’

 ‘What would happen were you to take hold of that delicate creature, close your fingers tight so that it couldn’t get away?’

 ‘It would die,’ Faramir said. ‘It would beat its wings to pieces against my hand and lose all its colour and beauty.’

Pippin was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. ‘Love is like that,’ he said. ‘You cannot capture love and hold tight to it until the time is right, for you’ll likely crush it instead of keeping it safe.’

Farry nodded, for he saw his father expected some sort of response, though he didn’t quite understand.

 ‘Farry,’ Pippin said, and stopped.

 ‘Yes, Sir?’ Faramir said obediently.

Pippin spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. ‘When the time is right, you will speak, and she’ll answer. And if you two are meant for a match, it will come to pass. I have no objection, and I’ve managed to talk Mayor and Mistress Gamgee around to where they’ll give the two of you a chance. But if it is not to be, then you must let it go, let her go, with your blessing. If you truly love her...’

Stung, Farry blurted, ‘But I do!’

Pippin nodded. ‘If you truly love her, you’ll let her go, if that is what she wants in the end. And you’ll remain friends, and never grieve her with your own regret.’

 ‘But...’ Farry said, and then his shoulders slumped. ‘I’ll try.’

 ‘I know you will,’ Pippin said softly. ‘I’ve raised you to be nothing if not courageous and honourable.’ He put an arm about the tween’s shoulders. ‘Come along now,’ he said. ‘We’re keeping all the rest of the Tooks waiting.’

They walked slowly back to the line of coaches. Seeing them, the drivers climbed up on the boxes once more, preparatory to departing. Pippin called out thanks to his own driver and followed Faramir into the coach. Farry settled in the corner that had been left for him and stared out the window.

The coach started with a jerk, wakening Forget-me-not. ‘Where’s Merry?’ she said sleepily, noticing at once the absence of her twin, then yawned and settled back. ‘O yes, probably riding back with Auntie Nell and Uncle Ferdi.’

 ‘Probably,’ Pippin said, but he stuck his head out the window anyway and hailed the driver, who pulled the ponies to a stop, the long line of Tooks halting behind them. ‘Half a moment!’ he called, ‘just want to make sure we’ve got everyone!’

 ‘Yes, Sir,’ the driver replied, finding it hard to suppress a sigh. It would be dawn by the time they reached Tuckborough, at this rate.

Pippin jumped out and walked down the line to Ferdi’s coach, stepping up and looking in. The children were all asleep, and Pimpernel broke from Ferdi’s embrace, hastily brushed at her clothes to straighten them, and said rather breathlessly, ‘Did you need something?’

 ‘Is Merry here?’ Pippin said, getting right to business.

 ‘I thought he went back to Buckland already,’ Ferdi said irritably. ‘And what would he be doing here in any event?’

 ‘No, my Merry,’ Pippin said, and in further explanation added, ‘Merigrin. You know, the lad you’re leading astray from his duties in pursuit of birds and such.’

 ‘Nell, my own, is young Merigrin huddled amongst the rest of the litter of pups?’ Ferdi said.

Pimpernel made a quick survey, careful not to waken any of the sleeping young ones, and answered softly, ‘No, he’s not with us. Could he be in one of the other coaches?’

 ‘He didn’t check with me first,’ Pippin said. ‘Half a moment whilst I see if he’s been left on the Party Field.’

 ‘Take all the time you need,’ Ferdi said, ‘and knock first if you come back with any more questions!’

 ‘Indeed,’ Pippin said dryly. ‘Good night.’

He chuckled, hearing Ferdi retort softly, and good riddance... now where were we, my dearest treasure, my own?

It was a good thing he thought to check, for he found his errant youngster sound asleep on one of the benches near the ravaged food tables. With a little effort, he was able to lift the teen in his arms. He carried the sleeping lad back to his coach, lifted him in, arranged him on the floor on a soft nest of blankets—the children were all spread out in various attitudes of sleep, leaving no room for their father, it seemed.

He eased the door closed, engaged the latch securely so that none might fall out in the course of the dark ride homewards, and climbed up on the box next to the driver. ‘Home, Jamis,’ he said.

 ‘Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,’ the driver replied, saluting with his whip. He spoke to the ponies and the long line of Tooks moved out, down the Hill, and finally, headed home.

***
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