Chapter 16. Saving the Farm

Ferdi ran at his best pace for the better part of two hours, a little more perhaps, and he came belated to join his father for late supper... but he was there.

 ‘I thought you would not be coming this night,’ old Ferdinand said, ‘though you’ve not missed a day in I don’t know how long.’

Tansy passed bowl and spoon to Ferdi and said, ‘I’ll be back in three shakes with your own portion.’

 ‘No need,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘Are you sickening with something?’ Ferdinand said with a sharp glance at his son.

 ‘I am well,’ Ferdi said, stirring the savoury rabbit stew with its rich gravy and generous portions of mushrooms, carrots and taters. He lifted a spoonful to his father’s mouth, his own mouth watering at the aroma.

 ‘Pip’s put you on water rations?’ Ferdinand said in a different tone. ‘What have you done?’

Ferdi’s lips tightened in a humourless smile. ‘It is more a matter of what I haven’t done,’ he said, but then he thought of the pony. Surely he’d be turned out of the Smials in disgrace when the truth of the matter came out.

Ferdinand shook his head. ‘The acorn didn’t fall far from that tree,’ he said. ‘I’d hoped Pip would have better mastery over his temper than Paladin did.’ He sighed. ‘Hard luck about that pony, Ferdi. I’m sorry.’

 ‘But he attacked Diamond and little Farry!’ Tansy said in a shocked tone, returning with a pot of tea which she proceeded to fill from the little kettle singing on the hearth.

 ‘Did he?’ Ferdinand said, his tone sceptical.

Ferdi shook his head. ‘Socks,’ he said succinctly.

Ferdinand nodded, satisfied. ‘I thought as much.’

Father and son remained quiet for the rest of the meal, each deep in his own thoughts. As Ferdi took his leave, Ferdinand stopped him. ‘Don’t lay the whip too hard upon yourself, Ferdi,’ he said. ‘It’s a heavy load you’re pulling, and this stretch of road is dreadful steep I fear.’

Ferdi nodded, forced another smile, and took his leave. He went to his rest, but it was not much of a rest. He was hungry, but he stubbornly paid no mind to the feeling. It was as much as he deserved, and not more than he could bear. He’d lived three days on water rations before, under old Paladin, after all, on more than one occasion.

***

Next morning Old Tom rode into the yard, just before dawn. Rain was pounding down, and he’d be miserable had he not spent the night tucked up warm and dry in the Spotted Duck in Tuckborough. Surely Regi would have talked the Thain round by now; he’d dealt with enough of old Paladin’s fits of temper over the years.

The new stallion’s pen was empty. Old Tom frowned, then relaxed. Of course there was an explanation. They’d moved him to one of the paddocks, or into the stables, out of the rain, perhaps, though Ferdi had said he was not quite ready to shut the pony up in a box, not even one of the generous box stalls reserved for the best ponies in the Smials stables.

His confidence was short-lived, however, for it wasn’t long before he was hearing how the Steward had come out to rescind the Thain’s order, only to find the pony already gone. ‘Who did the deed?’ Tom demanded. No one knew. Someone had taken the pony out of his pen, and who knew where the body was buried?

 ‘The gate was unlatched,’ one of the stable hobbits volunteered when the voices raised in speculation fell again.

Old Tom nodded in relief. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘The gate came unlatched somehow and the stallion wandered. Perhaps he unlatched it himself, and that’s how he got loose in the first place as Socks ambled by.’

He meant to ask Ferdi, but the head of escort had been in earlier, exercised each of his mares in turn, and gone again before Tom arrived. Tom looked for Ferdi at early breakfast in the great room, and again at second breakfast, but did not find him, and then of course he became immersed in the business of the stables and had no more time that day to think on the matter. He’d have to tell the Thain eventually... he thought he’d get a few hearty meals under his belt first, however.

***

Hilly arrived late in the morning, changed into dry clothes, towelled his curly head, and found Ferdi standing outside the door to the Thain’s study. ‘You look worse than I feel,’ he said candidly, ‘and I was the one up all the night.’

 ‘And a ride in the rain in the bargain,’ Ferdi said noncommittally. ‘Did you get yourself some elevenses?’

 ‘I did,’ Hilly said, ‘and good they are! Pork pie and all the trimmings. Cooks know what to serve of a cold, rainy day.’ He stood straighter and said formally, ‘I relieve you.’

 ‘You do indeed,’ Ferdi said. ‘I’ll be back in time for you to take the late noontide meal.’

 ‘Be sure you do,’ Hilly said. ‘I could smell the meat roasting as I left the great room.’

Ferdi snorted for some reason and took his leave, off to eat elevenses, as Hilly presumed, but actually off to the second parlour where the hobbits of escort waited to be called for.

Post arrived shortly after Hilly, and he brought the papers in to the Thain. ‘Thank you, Hilly,’ Pippin said, taking the sheaf. ‘I trust you left Tolly and Sweetie well.’

 ‘We stood in the hallway to serenade them,’ Hilly said, ‘for we’d have been swimming with the ducks to stand outside their window, if that’s what you’re asking.’

Reginard shook his head. ‘They don’t make Tooks the way they used to,’ he said. ‘What’s a little rain?’

There was no answer to this, and Hilly resumed his station outside the door.

Pippin looked through the papers, setting most aside for Regi’s attention. He came to the last and his face changed.

 ‘What is it?’ Regi said.

Pippin sighed. ‘Old Renibard died yesterday, while we were feasting. They buried him this morning.’

Regi nodded. ‘I have several hobbits interested in the lease,’ he said. ‘Most of them fathers looking for a place for their younger sons.’

 ‘I promised the old hobbit that I wouldn’t throw his family off the land,’ Pippin said, levelling his gaze at Regi.

 ‘No, you won’t; you have a steward to do that sort of thing for you,’ Regi replied. ‘I’ll do my best to find them places. Farmers are always looking for hired hobbits this time of year. Planting’s over, but the barley harvest will begin in another month or so, and strawberries are starting to come on now, and...’

 ‘You’ll divide the family,’ Pippin said.

Regi looked surprised. ‘No one could take on that many hired hobbits,’ he said. ‘Of course they’ll have to go to different places.’

 ‘How can we keep them on the farm?’ Pippin asked. ‘If they hadn’t had bad luck, the last few years, they’d have saved enough for one of the sons to renew the lease when old Renibard died.’

Regi was pained. ‘Pip,’ he said. ‘You know we need the coin from the leases to keep Tookland from falling down about our heads. The way it was set out from the beginning, every year farmers die, their leases come open, money pours into the Thain’s coffers as someone buys up a new lease, and with that money we pay for road repairs, upkeep on the Smials and other buildings, and there are the engineers, the miners, the foresters, the field hobbits and...’

 ‘It’s hard, Reg, hard and cruel,’ Pippin said. ‘They lose the head of the family and then they’re to be turned out in the rain.’

 ‘It is not as if they’re stray cats,’ Regi responded. ‘They’ll find work. How many homeless hobbits do you know of? The time of the ruffians is long past.’

 ‘What if I bought the lease, kept them on as tenants?’ Pippin said.

Regi shook his head. ‘You don’t have that kind of gold,’ he said. ‘Your father was tight-fisted enough, but he spent much of his own profits to keep Tookland going, the last few years.’

 ‘Hobbits weren’t dying quickly enough to depend on money from leases, I suppose,’ Pippin said sourly.

 ‘In part,’ Regi said candidly. ‘In part.’ He sighed. ‘I admit it, Pip; Tookland’s been badly managed the past few years. The Thain was... distracted by other things, and cumbered by ill health, and the Mistress...’

 ‘Distracted by a wayward son, I hear,’ Pippin said. ‘So I’m to blame for the ruin of Tookland? My father always said as much, before I left to live in Buckland.’

 ‘Pippin...’ Regi said, but the Thain raised his hand and shook his head. From the expression on his face, Pippin was thinking furiously, and so Regi was not surprised when he spoke again in a completely different tone.

 ‘There’s always pony racing, I suppose,’ Pippin said, and met Regi's astonished look with a wry grin.

Of a wonder, Regi followed the thought, but then he was used to being pulled down side trails after his young cousin. ‘It would take the winner’s purse from the All-Shire Race, and then some,’ he said.

 ‘That’s what I like about you, Reg, you always look on the bright side,’ Pippin said. ‘Very well, then, Tookland’s entry has to win the Litheday race in Michel Delving, that’s all there is to it.’

 ‘Socks, you mean,’ Reginard said.

 ‘That’s what I said,’ Pippin replied. ‘So far as I know, Socks is still the fastest in Tookland.’

 ‘He’s not so young as he used to be,’ Regi warned.

 ‘None of us is,’ Pippin replied. ‘You draught a letter to the Took-Grubbs and tell them their place is secure until the barley harvest. That’s two weeks after Mid-year’s. It’ll give us time to work something out.'

 ‘You’d better make sure Socks gets his workouts, if he’s to win the Tookland Pony Races and go on to capture the Litheday cup,’ Regi said. ‘You think he’s faster than the Brandybucks’ best?’

 ‘He has to be,’ Pippin said. ‘I’m going to tell him so.’