Chapter 9. Trapping a Fox

It was a pleasant domestic scene, there in the Thain’s sitting room at the Great Smials. Eglantine sat in the comfortable chair by the hearth, knitting busily, her grandson Faramir at her feet. He and the younger Gamgee children were playing with small, intricately-carved figures: a shepherd and his sheep and dogs, a farmer with his team of plough ponies, a byre with shaggy cows, pigs, geese and even a sleek cat curled in the haymow. The young ones were comparing the pieces as they laid out their play farm on the rug before the fire, laughing at the droll expressions and exclaiming at the lifelike details carved by a careful hand.

 ‘Farmer Paladin made them, for young Pippin,’ Eglantine said with a fond glance at her son, ‘in the days before he was Thain Paladin. You’d have liked him, I think.’ None of the children had met Thain Paladin; Samwise had been seldom at the Great Smials, and had never thought to take the liberty of bringing his family, while Paladin was Thain. Eglantine’s needles stilled and she sighed, her look far away. ‘How he loved the land.’

Diamond was stitching away, Rose was brushing out Elanor’s hair preparatory to braiding it, and Pippin and Samwise were engaged in a game of Kings.

 ‘But why won’t he let us thank him?’ Elanor said, in reference to a grown-up conversation overheard over tea. Ferdibrand had not been at the festive high tea in the great room, though every other Took living in the Great Smials was there, with the exception of the invalids and those whose duties kept them away.

 ‘He’s the most un-hobbity hobbit I know,’ Frodo observed in his thoughtful way. His father shot him a reproving glance and he blushed, mumbling an apology.

Pippin shook his head. ‘He is, rather,’ he said quietly, moving a piece on the game board.

Sam took a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘How am I to answer that, I ask you?’ he said to no one in particular. 

 ‘He has lived much alone,’ Eglantine said from her corner.

Elanor and Frodo exchanged glances. Alone? In the Great Smials?

 ‘He lost his home and his family, when he was not too many years older than you, Elanor,’ Eglantine said, correctly interpreting the young hobbits’ expressions. 

 ‘He eats late supper with his father,’ Elanor said, question in her voice.

 ‘Ah yes,’ the mother of the Thain said. ‘He has his father, a helpless invalid, living on the charity of the Thain all these years. His uncle died, and his mother, on the same terrible day, and his sister was taken from him not long after.’

 ‘His sister died too?’ Rosie-lass said in horror, putting down the little wooden goose she’d been admiring.

 ‘No,’ Eglantine reassured, ‘but she lives far away in the Woody End, and they hardly ever see each other.’

Samwise found an answering move, and smiled as Pippin’s eyebrows rose in response.

 ‘He seems cheerful enough,’ Elanor said slowly, ‘though he’s quiet...’

 ‘Quiet, yes, that’s a good word to describe him,’ Eglantine said. ‘He learned quiet the hard way, you might say.’

 ‘The hard way?’ Rose said, her brush strokes ceasing as she turned towards Eglantine.

 ‘He was under the Ban for a number of years,’ Eglantine said, her eyes on her needles.

 ‘Shunned?’ Rose gasped, gathering Elanor closer. How could Pippin have entrusted Ellie to someone who’d lived under the Ban...

‘For years?’ she echoed. ‘But even a thief receives a year, at most...’

 ‘The hobbits who threw in their lot with the ruffians received two years, as I recall,’ Samwise said, looking up. ‘But I thought you’d said he fought against the ruffians.’

 ‘Indeed, he nearly lost his life at the Battle of Bywater,’ Pippin said, moving a piece, keeping a finger upon it so as not to complete the move, looking at the board and restoring the piece to its previous position before taking up his contemplation of the game once more.

Eglantine lifted her head, looking from her son to the Mayor’s wife. ‘He was unjustly punished for something he didn’t do,’ she said. ‘His was not the fault, but he took the blame.’

 ‘Mine was the fault,’ Pippin said quietly, looking up from the board. ‘He was punished because I defied my father.’ He passed a hand over his eyes. ‘Nine years,’ he said softly. ‘How can I ever repay such a debt?’

 ‘You cannot,’ Samwise said, ‘nor would he allow you to try. Look at how simple gratitude sticks in his crop.’

 ‘Nine years?’ Rose said, grieved. ‘Nine years without speaking, or being spoken to?’

 ‘Why in the world would he stay on? Why would he serve you?’ Sam said in honest amazement.

Pippin met his gaze. ‘He is a loyal Took,’ he said simply.

 ‘I don’t understand,’ Rose said, but Sam was nodding. He did. He had travelled much of Middle-earth and back again with a loyal Took, after all.

 ‘For all those years, all he had was his pride and his stubbornness,’ Eglantine said, her needles resuming their task. ‘He could ask nothing from anyone, and no one could offer him anything, and after a time he learned to live so. Now he knows nothing else.’

 ‘Can he not learn how to be “hobbity” again?’ Frodo asked.

Sam smiled. ‘Of course he can,’ he said.

Pippin nodded. ‘Others have,’ he agreed. He thought of Sam, burying his nightmares in the rich soil of the Shire as he re-planted after the ruffians were thrown out, and of Merry, working away in Buckland as if he’d never been away, and of his own efforts to become “hobbity” again, after seeing so many wondrous and terrible things and living through fire, battle, and death.

 ‘Can we not help?’ Elanor asked, her eyes shining.

Sam thought of how much help his golden-haired lass had been already, to bring him back from the depths he’d trodden. ‘I think you could be a great help,’ he said, a slow smile blooming. ‘Perhaps we all could.’ He looked down at the board and saw that Pippin had made a move while he’d been distracted. Suddenly the way was clear before him, and he made a decisive move.

 ‘What!’ Pippin said, startled.

 ‘My game,’ Sam said calmly, then, ‘Come children, time to put away the farm and seek our pillows.’

***  

Next morning, the Gamgees’ waggon was brought out as Ferdi was finishing his early work with the new stallion. Ah, good! They were readying for the ride over the fields, back to Bag End, taking bag and baggage and thanks with them. Hopefully by the time they returned for the Pony Races and Installation they’d have put all such nonsense behind them.

When he came out of the stables after hanging the rope on its hook, he found the six oldest Gamgee children standing by the ring, Goldi in Elanor’s arms. The tot hugged the stallion Ferdi had carved in one chubby hand, the other pointed at the real stallion in the centre of the pen. ‘Pitty!’ she cried in delight, her earlier fright evidently set aside. ‘Pitty!’

The older ones laughed as the pony tossed his head, sending his silky mane flying. ‘He agrees with you, Goldi,’ Frodo said.

 ‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ Ferdi said. ‘I take half the credit, for having combed out the tangles, not to mention brushing and burnishing him until he shines.’ He took a deep breath of the morning air. ‘But then, nothing’s too good for the Thain’s new stallion.’

 ‘He’s as fine as any Elven horse I’ve imagined,’ Elanor said softly.

Ferdi gave her a strange look. She sounded as nonsensical as Pip when he told his whimsical stories of Elves and their faraway lands. ‘He is fine, in truth,’ he answered, ‘and he’s solid, not made of fancy.’ He remembered he was talking to the eldest daughter of the Mayor and shuffled his feet. ‘Begging your pardon, miss,’ he said.

 ‘Nell,’ Elanor corrected.

 ‘Miss Nell,’ Ferdi said, not one to be easily moved.

 ‘This will never do,’ Frodo-lad said severely, his expression a mirror of his father’s when addressing wrong.

 ‘Master Frodo?’ Ferdi said, wondering what he’d done now. To be taken to task by an eleven-year-old! He felt his hands seized and looked down to see little Merry Gamgee on one side, little Pip-lad on the other.

 ‘We’re ‘dopting you,’ Merry-lad said soberly.

 ‘ ‘Dopting me?’ Ferdi echoed.

 ‘That’s right!’ Pip-lad chirped. ‘You’re to be our noner... our none... our none-er airy...’ He sighed. What was the word?

Ferdi was as bewildered as the little one, but his confusion was quickly cleared up by Frodo-lad. Or perhaps not.

 ‘We talked it over, and we all agreed,’ that one said, levelling a Sam-like gaze.

 ‘Agreed?’ Ferdi prompted, wondering why the children were all beaming at him.

 ‘We’re making you our honorary uncle,’ Rosie-lass blurted. ‘Aren’t you pleased?’

 ‘Rosie!’ Elanor said sternly.

Goldi suddenly twisted in her sister’s arms, reaching out to Ferdibrand. ‘Want Ferdi!’ she pronounced. Ferdi had to take her before she toppled out of Elanor’s grasp. ‘There!’ she said in satisfaction on achieving her aim.

Ferdi was beyond words. He stared from one Gamgee to the next.

 ‘We put it in a letter,’ Elanor said, nudging Frodo-lad. He dug in a pocket, bringing out a creased piece of brown paper, a shopping list showing on one side. He unfolded it and thrust the newly-written side at Ferdibrand. In Elanor’s careful printing, in bold pencil, it said,

We the desen (this was crossed out) children of Samwise and Rose Gamgee hearby claim Ferdi Took as our honourary uncle. Singed...’

All the children’s names followed, though not all were written by the bearers of the names themselves. Goldi chortled and pointed to a scribble, by which reposed her name in all its glory. ‘I writed that!’ she said.

Frodo-lad’s mouth had opened in dismay as a sudden realisation hit him. ‘But can you read?’ he asked, too anxious to be polite. ‘It says...’

 ‘I can read,’ Ferdi said, though he hardly knew how he formed the words. ‘Do your parents know about this?’

 ‘Dad told us how to do it up proper,’ Elanor said, her chin in the air. ‘See?’ she said, pointing with her finger. ‘We have eight witnesses! That’s more than a Will, even!’

 ‘So no more of this “Miss” this and “Master” that nonsense,’ Frodo-lad said firmly. ‘You’re to call us by our right names, and we’re to call you Uncle Ferdi, and give you presents on our birthdays.’

 ‘I...’ Ferdi said, nonplussed.

Pip-lad tugged at his hand. ‘And you’re to give us presents on your birthday,’ he reminded.

 ‘Pip!’ Elanor gasped, but Ferdi only laughed.

Still holding Goldi, he crouched to address the youngster. ‘I suppose I shall have to, at that,’ he said with a grin. ‘So what do I call you?’

 ‘Pip!’ the lad chirped.

 ‘That ought to be easy enough,’ Ferdi said. ‘Did I ever tell you about my young cousin, by that same name? We grew up together, you know, and he was no end of trouble...’

By the time the waggon was loaded and Mayor and Mrs. Gamgee exited the Great Smials with Thain and Mistress Took, the group were leaning on the fence, telling jokes and laughing together like old friends whilst the stallion stood nearby, accepting treats as his due.

 ‘Time to go!’ Samwise called, and his children turned from the fence to swarm around him, all chattering excitedly at the same time about their new uncle.

The Mayor played his role well, pumping Ferdi’s hand and saying, ‘So pleased to make your acquaintance, Uncle!’

 ‘Welcome to the family,’ Mistress Rose said.

 ‘Thank you,’ Ferdi responded. He’d had little enough choice in the matter. Eight against one, not a fair fight at all.

 ‘There now, see? Was that so difficult?’ Rose said, hands on her hips.

 ‘What?’ Ferdi said, confused.

 ‘Two words, that’s all, “thank” and “you” and put them together,’ Rose said. ‘That’s all we wanted to say, and you made such a fuss!’

 ‘Come along, Rose,’ Sam said, taking his wife’s arm and urging her towards the waggon.

Ferdi called to them as they were halfway there. ‘Mistress Gamgee!’

They turned; he stood surrounded by the seven older Gamgee children, all intent on bestowing a hearty hug before leaving. Even little Daisy, in Diamond’s arms, seemed to want to join the general embrace. She waved her arms and crowed.

 ‘You’re welcome,’ Ferdi said, and meant it.