Chapter 14. A Change of Heart

Eglantine marched into the Smials, Tooks and servants falling back in the face of her grim countenance. Of course the Mistress was grim, seeing as how she’d nearly lost her daughter-in-love and grandson. The Talk was already running wild through the sprawling tunnels of the old manse. Still, the assistant cook gathered her courage and pounced. ‘Mistress?’

Eglantine stopped and reared herself up to her full diminutive height. How she managed to look down on someone a hand-span taller than herself, no one had yet fathomed, but the assistant cook quailed under her eye and said in a shaking voice, ‘A moment, if you please, Mistress?’

 ‘Can it not wait until morning?’ Eglantine snapped.

 ‘Yes,’ the assistant cook stammered, overwhelmed by the regard she was enduring, but quickly said, ‘I mean—no, Mistress, that is...’

 ‘Don’t stand there all the day hemming and hawing,’ Eglantine said. As her impatience increased, her voice grew softer. The assistant cook took warning; the Mistress was furious—quite understandable—and growing angrier with each passing second of delay.

 ‘It was the flour, Mistress, the last shipment of flour,’ she quavered.

 ‘The flour,’ Eglantine said calmly.

The assistant cook wished she could hide in a crack in the floor, but of course there were none to hide in. ‘Yes’m,’ she whispered. ‘The flour...’

 ‘Tell me about the flour,’ Eglantine said, sweet and reason in her tone.

Water rations, for sure, and I don’t know what else, the assistant cook thought in despair, but she bravely continued. ‘The last shipment we had, Mistress, it was full of weevils, and when the new flour was put in the storeroom with the old...’

 ‘Weevils,’ Eglantine said. She smiled slightly, and the assistant cook recoiled as from a blow. ‘Weevils,’ the Mistress repeated. ‘And the head cook sent you to inform me? How thoughtful of her.’

Thoughtful of her own skin, Eglantine fumed inwardly, though her smile did not decrease one whit. She’d been well trained by her mother, as a young lass, to smile and speak softly rather than rage and snarl. Think, dearie, if your face froze in that expression, was one of her mother’s fondest expressions. The servants and Tooks dreaded that tight, polite smile.

 ‘Yes’m,’ the assistant cook said uncertainly. ‘The baking... the bakers must start the bread after midnight supper if it is to have sufficient risings before early breakfast, and...’

 ‘She wants to trouble the Thain for another waggonload, this evening, I take it? Send a waggonload of wheat to the mill, have it ground fresh, and returned to the Smials before the bakers set to their tasks in the middle night?’ Eglantine said pleasantly.

 ‘Not... not to trouble the Thain,’ the assistant cook said, stumbling over the words in her haste to disavow any trouble to the Thain or Mistress Diamond.

Eglantine fixed her with a stern eye. ‘You tell the head cook...’ she began.

 ‘Yes’m,’ the assistant said.

 ‘Tell her this,’ Eglantine said. ‘Tell her to sift the flour needed for late supper, and for midnight supper, and for the early baking.’

 ‘Sift it, Mistress?’ the assistant said stupidly.

 ‘Sift out the weevils,’ Eglantine said. ‘We’re not about to throw out good flour! Sift every grain, every speck, and sift it thrice! I want no weevils in my breakfast bread, or there’ll be a new raft of cooks in the kitchens on the morrow!’ Eglantine took a quick breath, composed her features, lifted her chin and said serenely, ‘Have I made myself clear?’

 ‘Very clear, Mistress,’ the assistant said, swallowing hard. ‘But...’

 ‘Make sure anything containing flour is thoroughly cooked or baked,’ Eglantine said. ‘We want to kill any eggs the weevils might have left in the flour.’

 ‘Aye, Mistress,’ the assistant said with a gulp. She made a graceful courtesy.

 ‘Is that all?’ Eglantine asked with a charming smile.

 ‘Yes’m,’ the assistant said, and with another courtesy she made her escape, though she hardly knew how she could face the head cook with the terrible news.

Eglantine turned away, shaking her head. Throwing out perfectly good flour, when it could be sifted clean! Is that what the kitchens had been up to, those last few years of Paladin’s ill health, when Eglantine as Mistress had not paid as much heed as she ought to the domestic affairs of the Great Smials? How much waste ran rampant in other areas of the Great Smials, in Tookland itself? No wonder the finances were in such a shocking state. The Tooks grumbled about Pippin squandering his father’s hoard, but really, there was little gold to speak of, and after going over domestic records with Diamond, Eglantine could see why. She blamed herself, really. Too selfish by a long measure, and not conscientious enough by a short one. Her son was caught in the difficult position of managing Tookland without adequate resources, and the previous Thain was to blame. And the previous Mistress, she thought bleakly. Well, things are different now.

Her thoughts once more on Diamond—and Farry!—she hurried to the Thain’s quarters. As she entered, she heard Healer Woodruff using her most soothing tones. ‘Now, young Master, it’s not as bad as it looks. A glancing blow, it was, enough to raise a bruise, but no bones are broken...’

Faramir gave a yelp and Eglantine moved hastily to her grandson’s side. Woodruff was gently probing the lad’s left arm, just above the elbow. ‘Not broken,’ she repeated to Eglantine. ‘He’ll be a bit stiff and sore, I think, but he’ll be well.’

 ‘Gran!’ the little lad said tearfully, reaching for Eglantine with his undamaged arm. ‘Gran, make them stop!’

 ‘Make what stop, lovie-dear?’ she crooned, taking him up. He snuggled against her shoulder and sighed.

 ‘Them!’ he said, looking accusingly at Woodruff and her assistant. ‘Make them stop poking at me!’

 ‘Of course, dearie-love,’ she said, holding him tighter. To the healers she said, ‘He’s unhurt, you say?’

  ‘Just bruised,’ Woodruff confirmed, a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. A true Took, the lad was, already disdaining healers and trying to escape their attentions. ‘I’d like to apply arnica and a poultice to alleviate the bruising and swelling, but...’

 ‘Make them stop!’ Faramir howled, and Eglantine shushed and soothed until he calmed again.

The door to the Thain’s bedroom opened and Pippin emerged, Healer Fennel behind him, saying, ‘She’ll sleep now until morning. The draught...’

 ‘Da, make them stop!’ Farry called, and Eglantine hushed him. Evidently Diamond had been dosed to sleep.

Pippin crossed the room with quick strides, taking his son in his arms. ‘Make who stop?’ he asked.

 ‘He doesn’t want the healers to bother him with soothing salves and poultices,’ Eglantine said.

 ‘Master Farry,’ Woodruff began, ‘Your arm...’

 ‘What about his arm?’ Pippin said sharply. ‘I thought you said he wasn’t hurt.’ He began to examine his son minutely from head to curly foot.

 ‘It was a glancing blow. The arnica will ease the bruising and swelling, and...’

 ‘No!’ Farry shouted, and Eglantine could see a young Pip in her mind’s eye, resisting the tender ministrations of Healer Gingerroot as the old, gnarled hobbit had tried to stitch a gash. They’d had to dose little Pip to unconsciousness before the healer had been able to ply his needle.

 ‘Come now, lad,’ she said, holding out her arms once more. ‘Come with your old Gran, and we’ll sit by the hearth and spin stories, shall we? Who shall start the weaving of our web?’ Nodding reassurance to Woodruff, she took the lad from his father’s arms, danced him to the hearth, and sank down in her comfortable rocking chair, where she slowly began to rock and croon a sing-song tale.

 Such was her skill that it wasn’t long before the little eyes were drooping closed, the head was resting on her shoulder, the demanding voice had sunk to an occasional murmur, and Eglantine smiled. Healer Woodruff nodded and tiptoed forward. Gently she smeared the arnica unguent on the bruised arm. Her assistant was ready with a poultice which he quickly bound in place as Woodruff stepped back.

 ‘There now, lad,’ Eglantine said, ‘and I think we’ll continue the story on the morrow. Your old Gran is that tired, she is, and she’s going to seek her pillow ere long.’

Farry sighed and did not answer. Pippin lifted his son from Eglantine’s lap and carried him with exaggerated gentleness to his little bed near his parents’ big bed, tucking him up and laying a tender kiss upon his brow. He stared down at the little face a few moments longer, then turned to kiss Diamond in the big bed. She stirred but did not waken. Pippin drew as deep a breath as he could manage. He’d come so close to losing one or both of them this day...

 ‘Pippin, a word with you?’ his mother said softly from the doorway.

 ‘Eh? What’s that?’ he said, startled from his thoughts, but turning he saw the speaker. ‘But of course, Mother,’ he said. ‘What is it?’

She entered and closed the door behind her, leaving the room lit only by the turned-down watch lamp. ‘Peregrin Took,’ she said softly.

 Pippin jumped. ‘What did I do now?’ he asked, immediately reduced to a lad caught in the midst of mischief.

 ‘What did you do? What do you think you did?’ she asked.

Pippin took another deep breath. He’d always hated it when his mother made him consider his actions. ‘It would be easier if you just told me,’ he said. ‘Is this about slipping the escort?’

 ‘Ha!’ Eglantine said, but she kept her voice low. No need to waken the sleepers. ‘There is that as well.’

 ‘As well?’ Pippin said. He waited.

 ‘That pony,’ Eglantine said at last. ‘That pony!’

 ‘Murderous beast,’ Pippin muttered, but his mother shook her finger in his face.

 ‘He was just doing what stallions do,’ she said. ‘There’s been bad feeling between him and Socks since he arrived, and you knew it! He was aching to challenge, and never got the chance until now, and Socks put him in his place, I’d say.’

Pippin’s lips twitched in spite of himself, and he nodded. ‘He did,’ he said.

 ‘And so you order him destroyed?’ Eglantine said, softly outraged.

Pippin stiffened. ‘He nearly...’

 ‘But he didn’t,’ Eglantine said. ‘And even if something had happened, it wasn’t hobbits he was going after, but another stallion! There’ve been fights before this, but no Thain that I know of has ever ordered valuable ponyflesh destroyed simply because...’

 ‘He nearly...’ Pippin said stubbornly.

 ‘So discipline the careless hobbit who left the gate unlatched,’ Eglantine said. ‘Have him assigned to clean stalls for the next month or two, but do not...’

 ‘He nearly...’ Pippin insisted.

 ‘That stallion was a gift from King Eomer of Rohan himself!’ Eglantine hissed. ‘You think so little of his gift that you would cast it away on a whim?’

 ‘A whim?’ Pippin said, but he was listening now, and no longer arguing automatically.

 ‘I had the impression you thought a great deal of these Big Folk,’ Eglantine continued. ‘Why, Merry said the King must have sent you the finest pony in his land to honour your becoming Thain. And you order the beast destroyed, for doing what any young stallion might do, a valuable beast? At the very least you could turn him out in a paddock and let him sire fine sons and daughters!’

 ‘That was what we had planned,’ Pippin said slowly.

 ‘And that can still happen,’ Eglantine said. ‘So all the paddocks are full, are they? Well, put one of those ponies in the pen and the new stallion in the paddock, where he won’t see Socks coming and going, but don’t throw him away like a pouting child who cuts his finger while playing with a new toy!’

 ‘I...’ Pippin started to say, and then his shoulders slumped. ‘You have the right of it,’ he said heavily. ‘I spoke in fear and anger. I was not thinking at the time.’

 ‘But you’re thinking now,’ Eglantine said. ‘So go and take back your order. Don’t let pride destroy that beautiful creature because you will not take back your hasty words.’

Pippin stiffened and stood so for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Aye,’ he said. He took one more look at Diamond, at Farry, and walked to the door.

After he left the room, Eglantine sank down on the little bed beside her grandson. ‘Ah, Farry,’ she whispered, stroking a wayward curl back from his forehead. ‘You have a fine father, you do. He’s all his own Da ever hoped he’d be, and more.’

Reginard, Steward of Tookland, had entered the suite while Eglantine was taking Pippin to task.

 ‘Ah, Regi, I’m glad to see you,’ Pippin said. ‘I gave a hasty order, and I want you to go to Old Tom and rescind it.’

 ‘Hasty order?’ Regi said, though he’d already had an earful.

 ‘Yes,’ Pippin said. ‘I ordered that young stallion destroyed, but that would be a waste and a shame.’

 ‘He attacked Diamond and Farry, was the way I heard it,’ Regi said, but Pippin put up a hand to stop him, shaking his head.

 ‘He challenged Socks, is the truth of the matter,’ Pippin said. ‘We’ve had stallions fight before, when stable hands have been careless.’

Regi nodded. It wasn’t the first time the Talk had twisted the truth, and it would undoubtedly not be the last. ‘I’ll tell Old Tom right away,’ he said, and exited once more.

Eglantine and Pippin were taking a last cup of tea before retiring when Reginard returned from his errand, his face grave.

 ‘Well?’ Pippin said. ‘What did Old Tom say? Did you convey my apologies?’

 ‘You’ll have to convey your apologies in the morning,’ Regi said heavily. ‘The deed is done already. The pen is empty, and the stable hands say Old Tom took himself off for a long ride and said not to expect him back until the dawn.’