Chapter 51. Of Ruin and Redemption

The next day, Thain Peregrin stood to his feet after he’d finished picking at his share of the noontide feast, his glance sweeping the convocation of Tooks, Tooklanders, and Shire-folk that he’d called together. Hobbits were squeezed in so tight that they could barely budge their elbows to manoeuvre their forks and knives; yet they managed. None complained, nor bemoaned the summons. None would have missed this event for all the world. Something momentous was in the air, that was for certain. The feast itself was held in the open air, in the courtyard of the Great Smials, the tables taken from the great room and borrowed from local public houses and more hobbits spilling onto picnic blankets on the meadow when the tables were filled. The hobbits’ buzz of speculation quieted, their attention riveted on him.

Merry put down his fork and exchanged glances with Sam. It was about to come out, whatever it was.

‘I have called you together for a purpose,’ Pippin said. He smiled faintly as his words brought back an echo of the past. He imagined this crowd would be about as astonished as those who’d seen Bilbo disappear forever from the Shire, all those years ago. Truth be told, he wished he had just for this moment’s use such a Ring... but no. It was time to get the truth out in the open. He looked from one end of the crowd to the other and then went on. ‘To hear a story, to begin with...’ He smiled faintly at the puzzlement that bloomed on the faces before him.

‘Once there was a farmer,’ he said, ‘a hard-working hobbit. How he loved the land! His greatest joy was to walk the fields, whether under the sun behind a plough, or under a misting rain, seeing his thirsty crops drinking and growing. To take a barren field and make it bloom...! To watch a new lamb or calf come into the world, to hold a hatching egg in his hand, these were the jewels in his treasure-hoard.

‘And then, one day, he was told he must leave the land he loved, to come to a dark and stony place, to sit behind a great desk and order hobbits about and listen all the day to problems and complaints, and no longer the chuckles of a stream in the meadow or the rejoicing of the birds.’

He could pick out the farmers in the crowd: they looked horrified.

‘Many hobbits envied him, for with the position came a fabled treasure-store, a hoard of gold dug from the high Hill that held his new abode. He could use the gold to give his family some comfort, in addition to building new roads that were needed, maintaining old roads, buying supplies from the surrounding farthings...’

He wove a story of Paladin’s early days as Thain, and saw many of the older hobbits nodding in remembrance. Paladin had inherited a shabby Shire, left to shamble along under Ferumbras’ benevolent neglect, falling quietly to pieces as dark things gathered unnoticed outside her Bounds.

The good farmer rolled up his sleeves and set himself to ploughing this overgrown rocky field he’d inherited, slowly beginning to set things in order, laying plans for the refurbishment of the Shire, beginning to work on the problem of the roads (for though the Mayor was in charge of messengers, it was those chieftains from which the first Thain had been chosen who were originally charged with speeding the messengers of the King, when there had been a king)... And then the first of the bills came due.

He rode with his steward to the fabled treasure-store of the Thain.

Pippin saw the eyes of the listening hobbits glow as he described the torch-lit cavern, filled with a jumble of crates and chests, more wealth in one place than might be found in the entire rest of the Shire. More, perhaps, than in the legendary treasury at Norbury, before the North-kingdom fell, or in the dragon’s hoard remembered in Bilbo’s tales of the Lonely Mountain.

Thain Paladin opened the nearest chest and counted out the first bag; yes, it was an hundred gold sovereigns, still shining in the torchlight, though they came from the time before the first Thain and bore the faces of kings long gone to dust. Much of the gold was in the form of nuggets taken directly from the old gold mine, but all the bags were weighed to match the bag of sovereigns for easy valuation. Other chests held silver, and one or two contained jewels obtained by trade with the Dwarves.

After laying aside the first bag of ancient sovereigns, the Thain and his steward lifted bags onto the pack-pony they’d brought for the purpose. Then Paladin lifted a bag from the chest that, though as bulky as the others, seemed strangely lighter in the lifting. Curious, he opened the bag, finding only pebbles instead of pieces of gold.

When he and his steward had finished going through every chest and crate and barrel in the cavern, they’d found all the same. Only the first chest had contained gold and some silver, and only half the contents at that.

The vast treasure-store of the Thain was useless rock, stones and pebbles.

***

The assembled hobbits sighed as Pippin’s voice fell after this revelation. He took a sip from the glass before him and continued.

‘Thain Paladin was known as hard and grasping, spending a penny and demanding tuppence change,’ Pippin said. ‘He did not pay hobbits the customary fee for work on the roads but insisted it was their duty to give ten days a year to road repairs. He did not build the Tuckborough-Bywater Road that he’d promised, for “rock was too dear”, even after the Bolgers obligingly lowered the price on rock from their Quarry. He cut salaries and corners and everything else he could think of, and the Smials became ever shabbier as a consequence.

‘And so he ploughed that rocky field with a rusty, broken plough, but he ploughed it the best he could! And when weeds overgrew the neighbouring fields, threatening ruffians they were, he did all he could to keep them out of his own field. And Tookland remained free!

‘Paladin has been called the greatest Thain since Isumbras, though he dismissed the praise as mere flattery. But I would honour him this day. He was given a job to do, and he did it, without any of the proper tools. Let us drink to his memory!’

Pippin raised his glass, and the rest of the hobbits hastily stood to their feet to lift their own glasses high. After the toast, Pippin motioned them to their seats again.

‘But I did not summon you here, merely to hear a story,’ he said. ‘I am here to tell you the way things are, and the way they will have to be in future.’

His gaze swept the Tooks of the Great Smials in the foreground, and the servants sitting uneasily to the sides. All had been called from their duties for this convocation; a very few remained within the Smials, tending the infirm, or minding the little ones who’d been sent off after the meal to play and then have their naps, while the business of the convocation was going on.

‘I increased wages when I became Thain, to what I estimated was a fair compensation. I placed orders to begin to refurbish the Great Smials. I laid plans as my father did before me to build a road between Tuckborough and Bywater. I surveyed the crops and made arrangements to trade for or purchase outright those commodities that Tookland does not produce.’

He looked beyond the Tooks and Tooklanders to the Shire-folk who’d come, and then his gaze returned to the hobbits at the head tables, Master of Buckland, Mayor of Michel Delving, heads of all the influential hobbit families of the Four Farthings. He nodded to himself, took as deep a breath as he was able, and said firmly, ‘I regret to announce that wages have been reduced to what they were before I became Thain, the orders I spoke of are cancelled, the plans are laid aside, and the arrangements are null and void.’

He waited out the resulting gasp and said, ‘Tooklanders will have to limp along with what they can produce, unless you Shire-folk can see your way to trading for wood, wool, and sheep.’

Shock was on the faces of most of the hobbits before him, even the Tooks whose wildest Talk had not foreseen this possibility. The faces of the Bracegirdles of the South Farthing were grim. It looked as if there’d be a shortage of pipe-weed and wine in Tookland in near future, for starters.

‘What about the Bywater Road?’ a farmer shouted. ‘I had plans to take my produce to the market there, for I’ve more than I can sell in Tuckborough alone!’

Pippin spread his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘For all the good it does.’

‘Where’s all the gold?’ another shouted.

Pippin chuckled, though his smile did not reach his eyes. ‘If I knew that, now, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,’ he said.

Shock was turning to anger, and there were murmurs in the crowd. Diamond rose and stood by Pippin’s side, twining her fingers firmly through his.

Any moment and the Tooks will carry me over the border and cast me down, he whispered.

And I’ll be right alongside you, Diamond returned. Just give me a moment to pack my best dress. She squeezed his hand and was rewarded with a small smile from her husband.

Regi, however, had other ideas. He stood up from his chair and bellowed for quiet.

‘Don’t you dare try to blame Peregrin for the situation!’ he thundered. ‘He came in good faith to take up the reins, only to find the plough broken, the ground rocky, and the ponies spavined.’

‘Where’s the gold?’ the same hobbit challenged.

Regi levelled his most quelling stare. ‘The gold was gone when Paladin became Thain,’ he said. ‘He didn’t know the first thing about being Thain, and when he was advised to carry on as if nothing had changed, he took that advice, ill as it might have been. As far as we can tell, the gold disappeared under Ferumbras, or perhaps under Lalia before him.’

There was a muttering and shaking of heads amongst the older Tooks. They remembered Lalia the Fat. Suddenly the disappearance of the gold did not seem all that astonishing.

‘But I delivered waggons of wood to gaffers and widows!’ a woodcutter shouted. ‘And the Thain paid!’

Pippin nodded and raised his voice to say, ‘Aye, the Thain paid; from his own pocket he paid. I sold sheep belonging to my family’s farm to cover the costs. I am not so adept at digging for gold as my father was. He built the Tookland Races until ponies came from all over the Shire to run; some of the proceeds kept Tookland going. He did the same with the Tournament and the Spring and Autumn pony sales. He inherited fast ponies from Ferumbras, bred them, entered them in the All-Shire Race and used the purses to pay wages at the Great Smials. And in the time of the Troubles he persuaded hobbits to work for no wages at all, but for love of Tookland.’

There was a murmur of agreement at that. Paladin had reinstated wages after the ruffians were driven out of the Shire, but they’d remained low, and he’d traded on Tookish pride to keep them that way.

Pippin spread his empty hands. ‘I have nothing to offer you,’ he said, ‘save my promise that I will work hard, seek wise counsel, and do all I can to bring Tookland through, as my father did before me.’ Without the lie, he did not have to add, without the false countenance that he was forced to live, that made him hard, cold, and bitter.

The previous day had been a market day in Tuckborough and Bywater. Many of the farmers and tradeshobbits had come to the convocation with coin in their purses. One such farmer stood to his feet now, walked slowly forward to look the Thain straight in the eye.

‘Garabard,’ Pippin said quietly.

The son of Renibard Took-Grubb nodded. ‘It’s not much,’ he said, ‘but it’ll help a bit, I warrant.’

He took his coin-purse from his pocket and upended it over the table. A handful of coppers and a silver penny or two fell with a jingle to the snowy cloth. Another farmer rose, and more behind him, and a crowd of hobbits began to form, shepherds and woodcutters, potters and ropers, farmers and thatchers and hired hobbits, each coming forward to add to the growing pile of coin.

Old Odovacar Bolger joined the queue, politely waiting his turn, and when he reached the Thain he laid down a serviette with pencilled notations on it. ‘I’ll freely give the stone for the new road,’ he said. ‘You just give this to the overseer at the Quarry and he’ll give you as many waggonloads as it takes.’

Pippin was breathing rapidly, shallowly, and Diamond grasped his arm tightly in apprehension, but when she looked up she saw her husband’s face was shining with wonder, though tears were in his eyes. ‘Thank you, Odo,’ he whispered, and the old hobbit smiled.

‘It’s for the good of the Shire,’ he answered, and with a bow he returned to his seat.

Edelbert Bracegirdle was behind the Bolger. He laid down a gold coin on the mountain of lesser coins and said, ‘It looks as if the Tooks will get their pipe-weed after all. You sure you want to cancel that order? You might have a riot on your hands.’

Pippin drew a shaky breath. ‘I suppose we’ll go ahead and take your pipe-weed, if the price is right,’ he said.

‘It’ll be a fair price,’ Edelbert said, ‘even if I have to take a few waggonloads of wool in exchange.’

‘Which you most likely will have to do,’ Pippin said.

‘Ah well,’ Edelbert said, and a rare smile cracked his face. ‘I was wanting a new knitted muffler for the cold season anyhow.’