Chapter 46. Unexpected Turn

The proprietor of the finest inn in Michel Delving stopped one of his regular patrons coming in the door.

 ‘Knock out your pipe, Clovis. You know you can’t smoke in here.’

 ‘You still singin’ that song, Bert? You wouldn’t let us smoke last night, and now...’

The innkeeper sighed gustily. ‘As I told you,’ he said, adding weight to each word with a stiff-fingered poke at his cousin’s chest, ‘the Master of Bucklander’s bought up all the beer barrels in the cellar, and if you want to drink a drop you’ll put your pipe away!’

 ‘His wife can’t abide pipeweed, is what I hear. I wager the poor hobbit has to go out and smoke in the garden like any old gaffer!’

 ‘Well, he makes up for it in drink, or why would “drunk as a Brandybuck” be a byword, I ask you? In any event, he’s bought all the beer in my cellar, and he's ordered free drinks to all, just as it was last night... as long as no pipes are in evidence. Take a last draw on your pipe and knock it out, I say, or go find a mug somewhere else this night!’

Clovis grumbled and muttered about those benighted Brandybucks and the scandalous way they scattered their gold, but he knocked his pipe out and pocketed it. The beer would flow freely this night, and he’d leave with his pockets not one whit lighter.

It was a merry crowd that night, celebrating the re-election of Mayor Samwise and the exciting race that had capped the Lithedays Fair. Better yet, there would be fireworks provided after darkness fell, courtesy of the Master of Buckland. In the meantime, the hobbits who filled the common room of the finest inn in Michel Delving could while away the long summer evening drinking at the Master’s expense. Bucklanders were queer folk, but generous.

Only one small section of tables was empty, reserved as it were for the Master of Buckland and his party. There were cheers and mugs raised in toast as Meriadoc the Magnificent entered, and he bowed and smiled before leading the way to the tables.

 ‘Here you are, Pippin, Diamond,’ he said, gesturing to the large table in the centre of the section. ‘Estella, my love,’ he added, pulling back a chair to seat his wife.

Ferdi and Hilly were given seats at the next table with Merry’s riders, and they were cheered and toasted for the exciting race they’d run. Brandybucks and Tooks filled all the rest of the empty seats but the two reserved for the Mayor and his wife.

Servers began to bring out trays laden with food, and the merry hobbits ate and drank and sang and laughed, for it was the last night of celebration and they must make the most of it, before packing up their baggage and heading home in the morning light. The vendors in their colourful booths were plying their wares for one more evening; when the fireworks began, they’d close up shop, and after the fireworks they’d pack all they could by torchlight, finish the job in the dawn and be on their way to the far corners of the Shire, homewards.

***

 ‘Where is Mayor Sam?’ Pippin said. ‘He’s missing his victory supper!’

 ‘Some last-minute business or other,’ Merry said noncommittally. ‘The Master of the Races pulled him aside as we were leaving, and he motioned to us to go along. You were conferring with Ferdi at the time, I think, about plans for the morrow.’

 ‘We are still going to the farm, are we not, dearest?’ Diamond said, eyeing her husband anxiously. Beneath the bright smile lay a deep weariness, clear to her loving gaze. It would be good to stop over at the farm to celebrate Pippin’s birthday with Pearl and her family, rather than amongst the mob at the Great Smials where he’d have to play the role of Thain to the Tooks’ satisfaction.

 ‘Of course!’ Pippin said, raising his mug in a toast. ‘Why, Pearl is expecting us! Isum said so yesterday, when he came with their eldest to cast his vote, and he wouldn’t stay for the races but went straight home again when he’d rested.’

 ‘I’m amazed he made the journey at all,’ Ferdi said quietly to Hilly, overhearing the comment. ‘He hardly stirs from his chair as it is.’

 ‘Ah, but he wanted to cast his vote,’ Pippin called over. ‘He said ‘twould be a terrible thing for Mayor Sam to lose by tuppence, and him stay home, so he borrowed a pony from a neighbour, one known for smooth gaits, and made the journey.’

 ‘Much as your father did,’ Hilly said to Ferdi, raising his own mug. ‘To stubborn Tooks!’

 ‘Hear, hear!’ Merry said, standing to raise his mug high and call over the room. ‘To stubborn Tooks!’

All, even the Tooks, laughed and drank the toast.

 ‘Ah, here’s Mayor Sam,’ Merry said, for still on his feet he had a fine view of the doorway. ‘Three cheers for the Mayor, old and new!’

A rousing cheer followed, but for some reason the Mayor’s face remained sober as he bowed and then made his way to the Master of Buckland’s tables, several hobbits with serious expressions in his train.

 ‘Welcome, Samwise!’ Merry cried, gesturing to the empty seats. ‘And will Mistress Rose not be joining us this evening?’

 ‘She’s with the children,’ Samwise said quietly.

 ‘So, Sam,’ Pippin put in. ‘Have a seat, take up a mug, the beer’s paid for! Merry told me he liked the brew here so much he bought up the whole cellar-full!’

Sam walked to the table but paused with his hand on the back of his chair. He did not take up the mug the proprietor set down at his place with a flourish.

 ‘And what will your first official act be?’ Merry asked. ‘Opening the fireworks, I gather. There are still a few hours before us, so why don’t you wet your whistle in preparation?’

 ‘My first official act...’ Samwise echoed, looking ill at ease. He wiped his face of all expression and turned to Pippin.

 ‘What is it, Sam?’ Pippin asked quietly. Diamond, with a feeling of dread, put a hand on her husband’s arm.

 ‘Thain Peregrin,’ Sam said carefully, formally, ‘I regret to inform you that by the rules of the All-Shire Race your pony has been disqualified, and I must rescind your prize.’

 ‘Disqualified!’ Merry gasped, while Pippin’s face lost colour. Ferdi rose from his seat despite Hilly’s restraining hand.

The Master of the Races stepped forward from behind the Mayor. ‘I heard someone call your pony “The Rohan”,’ he said, ‘though he’s down on the entry as “Starfire”. How long has he been in your possession?’

 ‘Since the Spring,’ Pippin said huskily. He cleared his throat. ‘Samwise? What does this mean?’

Sam said unhappily, ‘I’m afraid the rules plainly state that the pony must have been in your possession for a year-and-a-day before running under your colours, Sir.’

Pippin winced slightly at the honorific. ‘Year-and-a-day? I hadn’t heard of that one before.’

The Master of the Races shifted uneasily. ‘It’s been in effect since the days of Bandobras,’ he said. ‘He ran a clearly illegal entry in the All-Shire Race, but there was no written rule and so the race results were allowed to stand. The rules were laid out as a result.’

Pippin smiled faintly. ‘I’ve heard the story,’ he said quietly, patting Diamond’s hand gently. ‘My wife’s illustrious ancestor was well-known for his sense of mischief.’

 ‘It’s to keep folk from buying a winner from another Farthing and racing it under their Farthing’s colours,’ the Master of the Races said. ‘It doesn’t come up very often...’

...for who would sell his winner to another Farthing before the All-Shire Race, to run another and in all probability be beaten by his own pony? And hobbits travelled so little that bringing a pony in from outside the Shire to race was almost unheard-of.

Pippin dug in his pocket, bringing out a handful of coins. He slid two silver pennies over the polished surface of the table towards his cousin, who had sunk into his chair in shock. ‘Well, Merry,’ he said, picking out two more silver pennies and shoving them to join the others. ‘It appears you have won our wager after all. The Tookish pony did not win.’

Merry smiled, or rather he grimaced, and he placed his fingers flat on the coins and slid them back. ‘I’m afraid you have the wrong of it, Pippin,’ he said. Looking up at the Master of the Races, he added, ‘Then you’ll have to disqualify my lad as well. I brought him back from the Outlands just before the leaves began to fall...’

There was a gasp and a murmur that swept the room as the news spread like puffpenny seeds on a windy day. Ferdi gave in to Hilly’s tugging hand and resumed his seat, mechanically taking the mug that one of Merry’s riders put in his hand and gulping down the contents without seeming to notice what he was doing.

Pippin began to laugh, a harsh and mirthless sound in the shock-silenced room.

 ‘My dear, are you well?’ Diamond said anxiously.

‘A Tookish pony won after all,’ he gasped. ‘Just wait until I tell the old pony that he’s the winner!’

 ‘Pippin,’ Merry said urgently, and at his look the hobbits of the escort rose precipitously, taking the Thain by his arms.

 ‘Steady, cousin,’ Ferdi said under his breath, and to Hilly, ‘Let’s get him to his room.’

There was a great scraping of chairs and benches as the hobbits in the common room rose hastily to bow the Thain out of the room. He shook off the escorts’ helping hands, took Diamond’s arm, and stalked with dignity out to the corridor leading to the private rooms, pausing to thank the innkeeper for his hospitality. Master and Mistress of Buckland, Mayor of Michel Delving and Master of the Races, and the four riders followed. Silence lingered in their wake, but only a moment; a buzz of speculation rose in the room and soon hobbits were drinking up, rising from their chairs, and hurrying out into the streets to spread the incredible news.