Chapter 2. Sunshine and Shadow

When the weather was pleasant, as it was these days, Ferdibrand would sit with his back to the stable wall, hands busy with some work: fletching arrows, braiding reins, carving at something. As head of the Thain’s escort, he needed to be ready at a moment’s notice to saddle ponies and ride out with Pippin.

The new stallion snorted and kicked at the shadow of a hawk that crossed the ring. Ferdi found his fingers trying to capture the fine head, the powerful muscles, the graceful legs. The wood seemed hardly to contain the wild spirit within, as his knife carefully shaved away the outer covering.

Pippin had tried to protest, when he first arrived at the Great Smials to take up his duties. ‘Escort!’ he'd said, throwing up his hands the first time Reginard called Ferdi in to accompany him on a ride to survey the planting in the eastern fields. ‘When was the last time you saw wolf or boar or... or... ruffian! ...in the Tookland, much less the Shire itself?’

 ‘It is tradition,’ Regi said firmly. Pip might be Thain, Ferdi mused, but Regi managed all the niggling day-to-day details of running the Great Smials. In his years amongst the Brandybucks, Pippin had learned the value of tradition as the glue that held things together. In the two months since his return to Tookland, he’d watched and waited, introducing change slowly, letting the Tooks get used to their new Thain. Not all were reconciled to the succession yet. A hobbit who’d gone off to foreign parts for more than a year, who kept going back to foreign lands to visit outlandish folk, and who’d lived amongst the uncivilised Bucklanders for a good deal of the time he’d been back, why, he was more Outsider than Took, or so the Talk went.

A hurrying hobbit burst from one of the lesser entrances of the Great Smials and Ferdi scrambled to his feet, pocketing his knife and the piece of wood he’d been carving. ‘Saddle up!’ he called into the stables behind him, hearing an answering cry from one of the stable lads.

 ‘So where are we going?’ he asked as Hildibold, one of the escort, trotted up to him.

 ‘Bag End,’ Hilly said. ‘And he argued with Regi again, as to how he doesn’t need an escort to ride fifteen miles or so, and Regi stared him down as only Regi can, so he’ll be in a fine humour, for sure.’

 ‘For sure,’ Ferdi echoed. He looked behind him at the ring of pony hoofs. ‘I’ve got Socks and Penny,’ the stable lad said. ‘Do you want White Face and Flame-tail as well?’

 ‘No, leave them,’ Ferdi said, taking the reins. ‘It’ll just be two of us riding out, I gather.’

Hilly waited for the lad to go back into the stables before saying under his breath, ‘And only one, if he slips the escort.’

 ‘He won’t do that,’ Ferdi said. ‘He knows his duty.’

 ‘To let us do our duty, you mean,’ Hilly said quizzically.

 ‘The Tooks expect to see him riding with an escort,’ Ferdi said. ‘They might think he wasn’t Thain, if not for one of us following along. Besides, a wolf or two might decide to visit Tookland one of these days, you never know.’

 ‘We can only hope,’ Hilly said. As a hobbit of the escort, he had to serve the Thain, but he didn’t have to like it. He’d been amongst those who wanted to see Reginard follow Paladin as Thain, passing over Paladin’s son, not exactly traditional, but having precedent in the dusty depths of history. ‘I’ll put flowers on your grave every Remembering Day, for you’ll defend him with your own body of course, for as long as you can manage to hold off the wolves...’

 ‘Be sure to shed a tear or two for me while toasting Regi as the new Thain,’ Ferdi said ironically, ‘seeing as how young Farry’s not old enough to follow his father.’

Hilly hushed him, seeing Pippin striding across the courtyard, pulling his gloves on. With the barest nod to Ferdi, he took Socks’ reins, mounted, turned the pony’s head and nudged him into a walk.

Ferdi shook his head and mounted Penny. With a wave to Hilly he was off, faithful shadow to the Thain.

It would not be a pleasant ride seasoned with conversation, Ferdi decided, for Pippin’s shoulders were stiff, his expression unusually grim. Ferdi kept Penny a length or so back as they trotted across the greening fields, watching for a wave to bring him forward, but the wave never came. And so the two cousins rode, that fine spring morning, together, but apart. No wolves appeared to add interest to the excursion. No ruffians intruded. No wild swine threatened.

All in all it was a pleasant, if uneventful journey. Perhaps Pippin was right; there was no need for an escort. Ferdi ought to take the matter up with Regi... and argue himself out of his post... He could go back to hunting, an agreeable occupation that left him plenty of time to think. Still, being head of escort paid well. He was putting money away to buy more ponies. Someday he’d have a stable of his own, as his father had before him.

They pulled up before Bag End. Pippin slid from the saddle, tossing his reins to Ferdi, and rapped peremptorily at the green door. Mistress Rose answered with a surprised, ‘Pippin!’ and then called into the smial, ‘Sam! Pippin’s here!’ To Ferdi, she said, ‘Would you like to come in?’

 ‘Thank you, missus, but no,’ he answered with a polite nod. ‘I’ll just put the ponies up,’ he said to Pippin and turned away.

Sam was there, then, greeting Pippin and drawing him into the smial. ‘We’re just sitting down to elevenses,’ he said. ‘Ellie! Set another place!’ Ferdi grinned to himself, imagining the Thain sitting at the Gamgees’ humble kitchen table. They knew better than to try to settle him in the parlour or dining room.

There were three empty stalls in the little coach house belonging to Bag End. Ferdi unsaddled the ponies, rubbed them down, gave each a pat and a treat, and returned to the bench in front of the smial, to wait. Had Pippin been in a good mood the escort might have taken himself off for a walk, but as things stood the Thain might leave without him, were he not on the spot when Pippin emerged from the smial again. It was better to be safe than sorry. A head of escort might look awfully foolish, trailing into the courtyard of the Great Smials an hour or so behind his charge.

He found a small folding table set up before the bench holding a little cosied teapot, mug, and covered plate of eggs scrambled with mushrooms, new potatoes and spring onions, with toasted bread and preserves. There were some advantages to being head of escort after all. He ate heartily, enjoying the view of the valley below, and smiled and thanked the dimpled lass who came to take away the tray. She giggled, a pleasant sound.

 ‘Which one are you?’ Ferdi said, and she giggled again.

 ‘Rosie,’ she said.

 ‘Named for your mother,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘My great-aunt,’ she corrected pertly, and taking the tray she skipped away. Ferdi half expected little teapot or mug to come to grief, but evidently the lass had enough practice to prevent disaster. He heard bright voices raised in song, making short work of clearing away and washing up. A bit later he greeted an older lad, perhaps in his teens, who walked out of the smial and on down the lane with a gaggle of smaller children.

Voices floated from the open windows. He listened closely when he heard Pippin saying sharply, ‘What do you mean, you’re not going for Mayor again?’ Sam’s voice rumbled a reply, but was overtaken by Pippin. ‘Merry said...’ and Sam interrupted. An argument was shaping nicely. Ferdi took out his knife and wood and began to carve again, listening idly to point and counterpoint.

He became aware of a tiny lass standing before him, the sun turning her hair to burnished gold.

 ‘What doing?’ she said, though the words were rather jumbled by the fingers in her mouth.

 ‘Carving,’ he answered, and after carefully stowing away his knife, he showed her the small stallion that was emerging.

 ‘Pitty!’ she said, taking her fingers from her mouth to clap her hands together. In no time at all she’d climbed into his lap and they were conversing together as old friends.

 ‘There you are!’ a voice broke into their talk. Ferdi looked up.

 ‘Ah, Nell, did you misplace this one?’ he said. He knew Elanor, for Mayor Samwise had brought her with him on an earlier visit to the Great Smials, shortly after Pippin had been confirmed as Thain.

 ‘Goldi, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You’re supposed to be taking a nap, little one...’

 ‘No nap,’ Goldi announced firmly. Goldi, a fitting name for one whose hair was the colour of sunshine, Ferdi mused.

 ‘Now, Goldi,’ he said, trying to set her gently down. She suddenly grew arms as long and clinging as ivy that choked old trees, holding tight to her newfound friend.

 ‘No!’ she said. ‘No nap. Want Ferdi.’

 ‘How about if Ferdi carries you to your bed?’ Ellie said desperately, her eyes meeting Ferdibrand’s in tacit plea. She did not want a screaming fit, here before the smial, especially with the Thain in the study and the windows open.

 ‘I’m not Ferdi, I’m a pony!’ Ferdi declared recklessly, disengaging the clinging arms and lifting the tiny mite to his shoulders. He gave a soft neigh, mindful of the discussion going on in the study, and Goldi crowed delight as he pranced. ‘Lead on, fair Nell!’ he said, and followed the laughing teen down to the kitchen door and into the smial.

He swung the little one down and into the low trundle before she knew what was happening. As her face scrunched up in distress, he hastily held out the little carved pony. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I made this for you.’

 ‘For me?’ she lisped, sunshine breaking through the clouds.

 ‘For you,’ he said firmly, straightening again. He patted Elanor on the shoulder as she whispered thanks and bent to tuck up her little sister.

Returning to the front of the smial, he found Pippin waiting impatiently. ‘I was about to leave without you,’ Pippin snapped, his temper hardly improved by his interview with the Mayor.

 ‘I’ll fetch the ponies,’ Ferdi said, but Pippin was in no mood to wait and stalked to the little stables, saddling and bridling Socks himself as Ferdi tended to Penny. He swung into the saddle and rode off down the Hill, trailed by his faithful shadow.