Note to the reader:

I hope it is not too confusing, having two Faramirs in one chapter. I have tried to make it clear that the Faramir in the first part is Faramir Took, or "Farry", a Hobbit, while the Faramir in the second part is Prince Faramir of Ithilien, a Man. Happily the two do not enter the same scene in any of the chapters of this story.

Chapter 22. Great Expectations

Goldi stretched—such luxury these Bolgers practiced! These must be the softest bedclothes she’d ever enjoyed. If her head did not ache so...

 ‘Farry, I think she’s coming ‘round,’ Laurel Bolger said softly.

 ‘Mmmm?’ Goldi said, opening her eyes. Her good friend sat by one side of the bed, leaning over her to touch Faramir’s shoulder. He sat on the other side of the bed, or had started sitting at any rate. At the moment he leaned forward, head resting upon his arms on the coverlet.

 ‘Farry?’ she said, startled, trying to sit up. A wave of dizziness, followed by an overwhelming nausea seized her.

 ‘No, Goldi, don’t try to sit up,’ Laurel said hastily, then raised her voice to call her husband. ‘Rudi!’

Faramir stirred, lifted his head, blinked sleepily, came instantly awake. ‘Goldi,’ he said, moving to gather her in his arms. ‘Goldi!’ He buried his face in her hair.

Goldi endured the embrace for as long as her churning stomach would allow before she had to push him away, turning away from him to retch miserably. Of a wonder Laurel had a basin in place, though there was nothing on Goldi’s stomach to bring up, as it turned out.

 ‘There-there, lass,’ she soothed. ‘Happens to the best of us. You’ll feel better once we get some food into you.’

Food was the last thing Goldi wanted, and she said so. Laurel chuckled, but just then Healer Chamomile bustled in, a smile on her face. ‘So we’re awake, are we?’ she said cheerily.

 ‘I don’t know about you,’ Goldi said, a hand on her head, which had not been improved by the retching, ‘but I seem to be.’

 ‘Spoken like a true Took,’ Farry said, easing an arm around her. He was treating her as if she were made of rare Elvish blown glass, she noted with irritation, when she’d only...

 ‘What happened?’ she asked.

 ‘You fell,’ Laurel said. ‘Fainted, actually.’

Goldi wrinkled her nose. ‘Fell?’ she said, puzzled.

 ‘You didn’t want breakfast,’ Faramir said. ‘Said you wanted to get an early start—remember how you wanted to leave early and reach the Smials by this evening, rather than taking two days to travel as is usual? You got us up in the middle night, practically! Anyhow, you didn’t want breakfast, and said that we’d stop for second breakfast...’

 ‘You were looking a bit green,’ Laurel said critically. ‘As you still are, but it’s understandable.’

Memory came flooding back. ‘Early start!’ Goldi said. ‘That’s right! Why...’ she glanced at the Sun peeping through the round, sparkling windows of the best guest room of Budge Hall. ‘It must be midmorning!’ she cried.

 ‘Nearly time for second breakfast,’ Laurel said, and Goldi groaned.

 ‘Don’t mention food to me,’ she said.

 ‘You have to eat, love, especially now,’ Faramir said earnestly.

 ‘Especially now...?’ Goldi said, confused, and her confusion grew at the look on her husband’s face. Doting, he was, even fatuous. ‘You look like the cat that got into the cream,’ she accused.

 ‘Don’t you know?’ he said joyfully.

 ‘Of course she doesn’t know,’ Laurel said crisply. ‘She’s never been in the family way before.’

Goldi knew she must look awfully silly with her mouth hanging open as it was, but... ‘You jest,’ she managed at last.

 ‘Congratulations,’ Rudi said, breezing into the room. He kissed Laurel’s upturned face and turned back to Goldi and Farry. ‘Wonderful news. You had us worried, I’ll tell you. What a relief!’

 ‘A babe...’ Goldi breathed, and then the truth burst upon her in all its glory. She returned Faramir’s hug, nausea forgotten; indeed she wanted to rise from the bed and dance, to sing to the skies. ‘O Farry! A babe!’

The healer ushered the Bolgers out of the room, leaving Farry and Goldi to rejoice together. She returned a little later with a covered cup, tapping on the door to make sure her intrusion was not inconvenient. At Faramir’s “Come” she pushed the door open. ‘I have a little something to settle your tummy, lass,’ she said.

Goldi sighed. Just because old Cammy had known her since she was in nappies, she didn’t care to be treated as a child.

 ‘Drink it down, now, Goldi; it’ll do you good,’ Farry said encouragingly, and she shot him an ironic look. He was as Tookish as they came when dealing with healers, but he wouldn’t hesitate to inflict them on his wife, it seemed.

The potion was not unpleasant-tasting, however, and did the trick, for when the tray with its covered plate appeared soon after, Goldi’s appetite had returned. She tackled the shirred eggs, lightly buttered toast and cut-up fruit with enthusiasm and asked for more, which Laurel was delighted to provide. As a matter of fact, she was halfway through her third helpings when the conversation between Farry and Rudi, sitting in the chairs flanking the little hearth, caught her ear.

 ‘...send you back in our coach, of course,’ Rudi was saying.

 ‘Coach!’ Goldi said. ‘But...’ she gestured to the golden sunshine pouring down outside the Hall. ‘To be shut up in a coach, in such glorious weather...!’

Laurel patted her hand. ‘Goldi,’ she said softly, and at her tone the younger hobbit subsided. Laurel smiled at the two husbands. ‘Go on with your planning,’ she said. ‘Or better yet, go down to the kitchen and see if you can find something for me to eat. I’m getting hungry just watching our young cousin eat!’

Farry and Rudi rose from their chairs at once. Farry embraced Goldi once more, his lips brushing her forehead, though he was careful not to upset the tray. ‘Would you like anything else, my dear?’ he said.

 ‘No, but you go ahead and eat,’ Goldi said. ‘I don’t want you wasting away whilst I’m swelling to the size of a dragon’s hoard.’ 

 ‘Never!’ Farry said gallantly. ‘Rudi tells me that you’ll only grow more beautiful.’

Laurel smiled at her husband and said conspiratorially, ‘He knows which side his bread is buttered on.’ All laughed, and the husbands left the room.

When they were alone, Laurel touched Goldi’s hand. ‘He’s going to want to shower you with blessing and pamper you until you feel as if you’ve been wrapped up in cotton wool,’ she warned.

 ‘What a dreadful thing to say!’ Goldi said in dismay. ‘How do I stop it?’

 ‘You don’t,’ Laurel said firmly. ‘No, Goldi, hear me out. You’re engaged in serious business, you know, knitting a babe. It’ll take all your reserves and then some. You must eat well, you must get adequate exercise but gentle, mind you, none of this wild pony-racing business of which you are so fond. And you must let your husband coddle you to his heart’s content, for that is his part in the business.’

 ‘I thought he already did his part,’ Goldi said, and then blushed.

Laurel laughed and shook her head. ‘You’re impossible,’ she said. ‘But then we have to make allowances.’

Goldi bristled. ‘Allowances?’ she said. Laurel had never before made reference to her lowly family line, gardeners who were only common hobbits in truth.

 ‘Yes,’ Laurel said. ‘You’re the daughter of one of the Travellers, married to the son of one of the Travellers, and so this will be no ordinary babe at all, being born into such an extraordinary family.’ She patted Goldi’s hand. ‘These are some of the happiest days of your life,’ she said softly, her eyes shining with remembered joy. ‘You’ll never be expecting your first babe again, so make the most of it. And don’t spoil Farry’s pleasure.’

 ‘Let him pamper me?’ Goldi said quizzically.

 ‘And cosset you, and cherish you... believe me, you’ll be storing up strength for after the babe is born, and you’ll need it all! You’ll be exhausted, and if you haven’t allowed folk to care for you properly, if you haven’t had enough rest before the babe comes, you won’t enjoy the days to follow so well as you ought.’

 ‘If you say so,’ Goldi said, but then their husbands were heard in the corridor and the wives fell silent.

 ‘Goldi!’ Farry said, entering the room with another kiss for his wife as Rudi settled a tray in Laurel’s lap. ‘I bought this off one of Rudi’s goldsmiths, and was going to give it to you on my birthday, but I find I simply cannot wait...’ He drew an exquisitely fashioned bracelet from his pocket and, taking her hand in his, fastened it on her wrist.

 ‘Goldi?’ Laurel said, raising an eyebrow.

Goldi sighed, then smiled at her friend. ‘I think I can get used to it,’ she said.

 ‘Used to what?’ Farry asked, settling beside his wife, his arm stealing ‘round her once more.

 ‘Never you mind,’ Laurel said firmly. Rudi, father of three with a fourth on the way, laughed.

***

The marketplace in Dindale was even more festive than usual, for instead of merchants’ booths spilling over with varied and colourful wares, tables were set up, bright bunting hung from lines strung from one end of the market to the other, musicians practiced in a corner, bakers’ boys bustled from table to table, putting out baskets of bread, while maidens arranged flowers on every table and all sorts of other preparations were underway.

A brilliant blast of trumpets was heard in the distance. ‘That’s the call of Ithilien,’ the Mayor said to two of his councillors who were walking the marketplace, overseeing all the finishing details. Raising his voice, he shouted, ‘Make ready! They’re here!’

If the marketplace had seemed a busy place before, now it positively boiled like a nest of ants disturbed. The Mayor settled his robes about his shoulders (he hardly ever wore them, save for occasions of state) and hurried to the town gate, to be joined by all five of the Men who sat on the city council, also ceremonially dressed for the occasion. Quite a few of the townspeople waited, waving banners in bright colours, cheering the approach of the visitors from Ithilien: the Prince and his family, of course, but also Elves! ...and Halflings!

 ‘Welcome, well come indeed!’ the Mayor shouted, bowing to Prince Faramir.

Faramir dismounted and waited for his Lady to dismount before, arm in arm, they approached the welcoming committee. ‘My Lord Mayor,’ he said with a bow of his own.

 The Mayor beamed and turned to the councillor on his right, extending his hand. That Man pulled a large key from his sleeve and placed it in the waiting palm. The Mayor thrust the key at Faramir, saying, ‘The key to the city, My Lord. Make yourself free of her gates.’

The prince took the key with appropriate solemnity, thanking the people of Dindale for their welcome.

 ‘Come along, then,’ the Mayor said with a grand gesture that encompassed all the travellers. ‘The King is due to arrive within the hour. Let us put up your horses; we have accommodations where you may wash away the dust, if you wish, before we greet the King and sit down to feast.’

 ‘Very kind, I’m sure,’ Faramir said, falling into step with the Mayor. His was a new face to Faramir, being newly elected, but he seemed to be handling this affair with efficiency and good humour. He glanced at Eowyn and she nodded, sharing his opinion. As they walked a little ahead of the crowd, Faramir unobtrusively pressed the large key back into the Mayor’s hand. ‘I suspect you’ll want this back, if only to present to the King when he arrives,’ he said.

The Mayor laughed. ‘We had another made,’ he confessed, ‘but it could be a ruinous business if every noble to pass through our fair city should elect to keep the key!’