Chapter 8. A Tangible Expression of Gratitude

In the dark before dawn the Steward was waiting just inside the side door of the stables when Ferdi ducked in to grab the rope from the hook.

 ‘Stop right there,’ he said quietly.

Ferdi started. ‘Regi!’ he said accusingly. ‘What were you thinking? You startled me out of half a night’s sleep!’

 ‘You are cordially invited to join the Thain and Mistress for second breakfast in the best parlour,’ Regi said.

 ‘Cordially?’ Ferdi echoed. ‘Invited? That means that if I...?’

 ‘That means that if you elect not to join them, and the Mayor and his family, for second breakfast, a private affair, so that they may thank you for... extracting that tiny child from under the new stallion’s deadly hoofs...’

 ‘There was never any real danger,’ Ferdi protested hotly, but at Regi’s look he backed down, muttering in rebellion, ‘...at least, if hobbits used the brains they’d been born with...’

 ‘Be that as it may,’ Regi said, looking down his nose at Ferdi, ‘should you elect to decline the Thain’s very kind invitation to this private occasion, you will be ordered to attend high tea this afternoon, to be publicly acclaimed before all the Tooks of the Great Smials, as well as those of Tuckborough and as many other Tooklanders as the great room will hold.’

 ‘He wouldn’t,’ Ferdi said faintly.

 ‘Don’t try him,’ Regi warned. ‘You’re in Pip’s good books at the moment, what with rescuing little Goldi and conveniently training the stallion to take a rider,’ he waxed eloquent, letting the words roll grandly from his lips, ‘giving him hopes of winning the Lithedays Pony Races this year, taking the honours away from Buckland.’

 ‘He was cheering Buckland on, last year, as I heard,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘Ah well, he was steward of Buckland last year,’ Regi said in his best “let bygones be bygones” manner. ‘This year he’s Thain.’

 ‘And how did he know I’d been riding the stallion?’ Ferdi went on. True, he’d saddled the beast in the depths of the night and ridden him under the stars, even breezed him around the racecourse, glorying in the power beneath him, the song of the wind in his ears, the closest he’d ever come to flying, he’d warrant. ‘Besides, I’m hardly training him to take a rider. I find he’s been beautifully trained already; those merchants spoilt him shamefully but he’s very intelligent, Regi, and quick to show manners for a rider he trusts.’

 ‘Sounds as if he belongs to you already,’ Regi said, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

Ferdi’s smile faded. ‘Of course he doesn’t belong to me,’ he said quietly. ‘He belongs to the Thain, but he’d go to waste turned out in a field.’

 ‘He’d sire foals,’ Regi said. ‘Pip already has a fine pony to ride. All we need is for him to get it into his head that he ought to ride the new stallion, and have the beast break his neck for him.’ Old Tom’s assistant was still laid up with a broken leg and collarbone from his attempt to master the pony.

 ‘So I’ll ride him in the Pony Races and Pip will collect half the winnings and the stud fees that result,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘You know, Ferdi, you just might have something there,’ Regi said thoughtfully, then returned to the point at hand. ‘Now, what shall I tell the Thain?’

 ‘What shall you tell the Thain... about what?’ Ferdi said, confused.

 ‘Is it to be breakfast, or tea?’ Regi said.

 ‘What do you think?’ Ferdi said with a wry face.

Regi chuckled. ‘I’ll tell them to expect you midmorning, then,’ he said.

***

Ferdi usually ate heartily at second breakfast, seeing the skimpy early breakfast he was in the custom of making, for even before the advent of the new stallion he’d used the early morning hours to work his own ponies. The fine food on this occasion stuck in his throat, however, even though they did not molest him with thanks whilst the food snowed and the drink rained down, for business was seldom discussed during a meal. It was not considered good form to take attention from the enjoyment of the food.

In truth, he could not have told afterwards what had been served, though it was hot and plenty, savoury and sweet, of varied colours, textures and tastes, from beginning to end a continuous work of culinary art personally prepared by the head cook. All the other hobbits ate heartily, the Thain and Mistress and their son, the Mayor and his wife, and the children. All eight of the Gamgee children were in attendance, even two-year-old Hamfast in his father’s lap and year-old Daisy nestled in Diamond’s, to spare Rose, who was under the weather it seemed from the pallor of her complexion and her lack of attention to the food.

 ‘She’s so sweet,’ Diamond said, dewy-eyed, looking down at her little charge. ‘I’d love to have a little lass just like her some day.’

Goldilocks sat regally in her high chair, gazing over the table as sharp-eyed as any queen. With her spoon she rapped the knuckles of Faramir, sitting next to her, when he reached for another piece of bread without asking.

 ‘Ow!’ that lad cried, sucking his injured hand, face indignant.

 ‘S’posed to say, “P’ease pass”,’ Goldi articulated, lifting her chin elegantly.

 ‘Now, Goldi,’ Rose said, whilst Diamond soothed her little son’s ruffled feelings and buttered him a piece of bread.

Ferdi smiled despite his discomfort. It seemed to him as if this might be the beginning of something. Farry, with his father’s dark-gold curls, and Goldi with her hair the colour of sunshine, how well they looked, sitting side-by-side. He shook his head to dispel the fancy, and the gesture caught the Thain’s eye.

 ‘So, Ferdi,’ Pippin said, pushing his plate away. ‘It appears you’ve finished your meal...’

 ‘And a fine meal it was,’ Ferdi said dismissively. He hoped that was all that was needed. He’d been thanked with a fine meal, appropriate, very appropriate indeed, convenient, and not discomfiting. It was too much to hope, however, for Pippin looked to the Mayor and said, ‘Sam?’

Mayor Sam cleared his throat, and Mistress Rose dabbed at her eyes with her pocket-handkerchief, seriously alarming Ferdibrand. He wished he could bolt like a startled pony, but no. He’d have to sit here and take whatever they cared to dish out. Regi had made that perfectly clear.

 ‘I...’ Sam began, and stopped, at a loss. He’d grown used to giving speeches over the last seven years, for that is mostly what the Mayor does, opening fairs and fests and celebrations all over the Shire, nearly every Highday of the year. This, however, was close to his heart. He swallowed hard and began again, ‘Ferdibrand, I...’

Ferdi stopped him before he could gain any momentum, however, with a held-up hand. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said firmly, ‘though there’s no need to thank me. I only did what any other hobbit would do.’

 ‘No need!’ Rose burst out indignantly. She rose from her chair to scoop little Goldi into her arms. ‘I might be burying a little one this morning, rather than holding her in my arms,’ she said, and Ferdi had the horrified notion that she might burst into tears at any moment. He made a few placating noises, but the Mayor’s wife went on determinedly. ‘We owe you a great deal, and I don’t want to see you sweeping it out the door like so much dust!’

 ‘No, missus,’ he said hastily. He shot Pippin a pleading glance, but his cousin was smiling.

 ‘The Gamgees would like some way to repay your kindness, Ferdi,’ Pippin said.

Now it was Ferdi’s turn to be at a loss for words. ‘I...’ he said helplessly, and then took a steadying breath. ‘I have all I need,’ he said with what he hoped was appropriate dignity.

 ‘That won’t do at all,’ Diamond said firmly. ‘You must see that, Ferdi. They won’t rest until you allow them to thank you.’

 ‘Then say “thank you” and be done with it!’ Ferdi sputtered, and closed his eyes at his own rudeness. Truly he was not meant to sit at table in such lofty society. Fine. They’d brought him here to thank him and now he was owing apologies. Would this ordeal never end?

 ‘Ferdibrand,’ Pippin said quietly. ‘We did not bring you here to make you miserable; believe me, cousin.’ Ferdi opened his eyes to meet his cousin’s sympathetic gaze. ‘The Gamgees would merely like to make some tangible gesture, to express their appreciation.’

 ‘Tangible gesture,’ Ferdi echoed faintly, but then an idea struck him.

Seeing his expression, Pippin brightened. ‘Yes, cousin?’ he said to encourage Ferdi.

Ferdi looked from Thain to Mayor and back again. Was it fair to put Samwise on the spot like this? Suddenly he found he didn’t much care. Turnabout was fair play, after all, and Mayor Sam and Mistress Rose had certainly had no compunctions about putting him on the spot. ‘There was something,’ he said.

 ‘Yes, Ferdi?’ Mayor Sam said, bending forward eagerly, while Rose leaned against her husband's shoulder and cuddled Goldilocks close.

 ‘Well...’ Ferdi said.

 ‘Anything, Ferdi, if it is in my power,’ Sam said solemnly. He looked up over his shoulder at Rose, and she nodded firmly.

 ‘You could go for Mayor again,’ Ferdi said, greatly daring. Who was he to tell Mayor Samwise what to do, especially when Pip had argued the same point for a good hour or more on that visit to Bag End?

 ‘Go for Mayor?’ Sam said, and dumbstruck, he could say no more.

Ferdi nodded. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘You’ve been a good one, and it seems a shame for you to step down now, just when we've got used to you. You ought to go for seven more years at the least.’ He nodded again, took up his serviette from his lap, dabbed at his mouth, threw the cloth down on the table and rose.

 ‘It has been a pleasure, I’m sure,’ he said. ‘I thank you for your hospitality.’ On that note, he made his exit, before anyone could press any more gratitude upon him.