Chapter 35. Clearing the Air

When Pippin reached the infirmary, he encountered a small but determined group arguing softly with Fescue outside Ferdi's door.

 ‘He’s our uncle!’ Robin Bolger said.

 ‘We haven’t seen him in days!’ his brother Buckthorn complained.

 ‘Please,’ one of the lasses said, ‘we heard he needs cheering...’

 ‘And we’ve come to cheer him!’ Merry Gamgee said from the middle of the pack. ‘He’s our uncle too, you know!’

Fescue smiled in spite of herself, for she’d heard the Talk about the Mayor’s children adopting Ferdibrand, “offishul” paper and all. ‘Well your uncle is in need of his rest...’ she began.

 ‘That he is,’ Pippin said, pushing forward.

Elanor spied Daisy on his right arm and said hastily, ‘Were you looking for us, Sir?’ She held out her hands to the baby, but little Daisy flung her fat little arms around the Thain’s neck and clung for dear life.

The plump, jolly babe on the Thain’s left arm crowed and pounded Pippin’s shoulder with his chubby fists.

 ‘No,’ Pippin said, his grip on Daisy tightening as Elanor sought to take her baby sister. ‘No, the three of us had a matter of business to discuss with your Uncle Ferdi, and...’

 ‘Business!’ little Pip-lad Gamgee exclaimed, his eyes wide.

 ‘Indeed,’ Pippin said in a remarkably dignified manner, considering Daisy had hold of his ear. ‘If you’ll excuse us...’ He made his way through the little crowd to the door that Fescue was guarding.

The healer’s assistant stood, open-mouthed, unsure of her course. Woodruff had ordered in no uncertain terms that Ferdi was to have peace and quiet, but she had not included the Thain, especially not a Thain bearing babes, in her orders.

As he reached the door, Pippin turned back to face the frustrated young ones, spying for the first time his own son in their midst. His grin brightened and he winked. ‘Why don’t you go and gather green-leafed branches?’ he said. ‘Armloads of bright wildflowers, as well? Ferdi’s been stuck in a hole for a week now, and his eyes must be pining for a sight of nature. By the time you return we ought to have concluded our business.’

Frodo-lad seized on this opportunity. ‘We will!’ he said stoutly. ‘Won’t we?’ he appealed to the other young hobbits. With a chorus of ‘Indeed!’ and ‘We’ll be back in three shakes!’ and ‘Tell Uncle Ferdi we’re coming!’ the young Gamgees and Bolgers and Took made a hasty departure.

Fescue sighed and relaxed against the door. ‘Thank you, Sir,’ she said.

 ‘If you’d open the door for us,’ Pippin replied. ‘I seem to be one hand short.’ He hefted the two fat babies in illustration.

Fescue wanted to protest, but he was, after all, Thain of the Shire and she didn’t quite dare. She meekly opened the door for him, and immediately set off in search of Healer Woodruff, who’d know what to do.

Rosemary Bolger was interrupted in the middle of badgering her brother to eat. ‘Come, Ferdi, how do you expect to get out of this bed if you won’t...’ She looked up, her surprise growing as she took in the Thain’s burdens. ‘Sir,’ she said. ‘What in the world?’

Ferdi didn’t open his eyes; he lay like a lump in the bed.

 ‘Out you go, Rosie,’ Pippin said cheerily. ‘Ferdi and I have a bone to chew over.’

 ‘Now Pip,’ Rosemary said with a rare flash of Tookish temper. ‘I don’t know what you intend to do with him, but...’

 ‘Do with him?’ Pippin said, all innocence.

But Rosemary was not about to take such from Pippin. Thain or no, she’d changed his nappies upon a time. ‘Do with him!’ she snapped. ‘Haven’t you done enough already?’

 ‘What have I done?’ Pippin asked.

 ‘I don’t know,’ Rosemary said, frustrated. ‘But the Talk is...’

 ‘Rosemary,’ Pippin chided gently. ‘You of all hobbits ought to know better than to listen to the Talk.’

 ‘I...’ Rosemary said, nonplussed.

 ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Pippin continued, bouncing the babes on his arms, ‘this won’t take more than a few moments. You might just go and find Ferdi a plate of fresh, hot breakfast.’ He cast a dim eye on the plate she held. ‘That looks quite cold, and you know how Ferdi hates cold food.’

 ‘It was hot when...’ Rosemary began.

 ‘I’m sure his appetite will return anon,’ Pippin reassured, nodding her towards the door. ‘You bring another plateful and I have no doubt but that he’ll eat the whole...’ Unwilling, she rose, plate in hand, and moved towards the door, with Pippin nodding and smiling her on her way. As the door closed behind her, he muttered under his breath, ‘...even if I have to stuff it down his throat myself.’

He returned to the bed and stood staring down at the occupant for a long moment. ‘What’s this nonsense all about, Ferdi?’ he said sternly.

Without opening his eyes, Ferdi moved his head back and forth on the pillow in negation. ‘Tired,’ he breathed. ‘I’m tired, Pip. Leave me be.’

Pippin had a cold flash of memory, Ferdi lying bloody on the ground after the wild boar attack—but that was a dream, he told himself sternly. It was just a dream is all; stop acting like a ninny-hammer. The use of Sam’s favourite scorning phrase steadied him.

 ‘Here now,’ he said. ‘Hold this for me for a moment, will you?’ He unceremoniously dumped Daisy Gamgee into Ferdi’s lap. Quite against his inclination, Ferdi opened his eyes and an arm went protectively round the babe to keep her from tumbling off the bed.

 ‘What?’ he said, though his surprise multiplied to see that Pip retained a babe of his own.

 ‘I think you’ve already been introduced to Daisy,’ Pippin said. ‘Miss Daisy Gamgee, this, as you will recall, is your Uncle Ferdibrand.’

 ‘At your service,’ Ferdi said automatically, for the proper response had been drilled into him from his own babyhood.

 ‘And this fine fellow,’ Pippin said, bouncing his own babe until that jolly little one chortled with glee, ‘is Master Harlo Hoarfoot, the apple of his grandfather’s eye.’ Old Horto Hoarfoot was the Thain’s head gardener, as cheerful a hobbit as the day was long in the summertime, and all his children and grands reflected his sunny outlook.

 ‘What is this?’ Ferdi said, confused. He sat up a little against his pillows, quite obviously awake.

 ‘The time has come for you to make your confession,’ Pippin said. ‘You must confess your misdeeds, as you know, before a body of hobbits: Shirefolk,’ (he pointed to Daisy, who was exploring Ferdi’s face with soft baby fingers), ‘Tooks,’ (he pointed to himself), ‘and Tooklanders,’ and he gave Master Harlo Hoarfoot a bounce that made that little one throw his head back and crow in delight.

 ‘What...?’ Ferdi said, stunned.

 ‘Go ahead,’ Pippin said sternly. ‘There’s no putting it off. It was part of our agreement, and the customary thing to do, if you want to avoid the Ban. Pay restitution—we’ll deal with that in a moment—and confess before others. Have at it.’

 ‘But...’ Ferdi said.

 ‘We’re ready to hear your confession, aren’t we?’ Pippin said, chucking Master Harlo under the chin.

 ‘Bah!’ said that one, and Miss Daisy added a few soft croons of her own.

 ‘Go on,’ Pippin said, meeting Ferdi’s eyes, and suddenly his gaze was intent, and demanding. ‘Tell what you did.’

 ‘I’m a thief,’ Ferdi said softly, pain in his voice. Babe or no, he could not face Daisy’s trusting smile, and he looked away, though she put a hand against his cheek to try to turn him towards her again.

 ‘Go on,’ Pippin repeated quietly. ‘What did you do?’

 ‘I took a pony that did not belong to me,’ Ferdi said. ‘Took him and turned him loose, without asking leave beforehand, without a word to the owner afterwards, letting him think the pony lost or taken by another. I stole the pony, and I lied about it.’

 ‘Did you now?’ Pippin said. He started to sit down in the chair next to the bed, but this did not please Master Harlo, who set up a howl of complaint. Pippin hastily rose and began to dance the baby around until he calmed.

 ‘Did you hear that?’ he asked Master Harlo and Miss Daisy. ‘He’s not told the truth even now.’

Ferdi stared with his mouth open, until Daisy decided to explore his teeth, whereupon he closed it quickly again.

 ‘The truth of the matter,’ Pippin said, surveying his audience of three, ‘the truth of the matter is that he took the pony out for a ride, thinking to say his farewells and bring it back again, but he could not bear to take his leave of the beast.’

Ferdi stared, wordless.

Suddenly sober, Pippin said slowly, ‘I’ve used you shamefully, cousin, to try to achieve my own ends. I took your confession and shaped it into a tool to try to pry you loose. I knew you’d never leave your father to go to Michel Delving, to ride in the race there, and you’re the only one to ride that stallion...’

 ‘And he’s the only one to beat the Brandybucks,’ Ferdi said numbly. ‘Socks is too old to win against the best of Buckland.’

 ‘Aye,’ Pippin said, dancing quietly from one foot to the other to keep Master Harlo still.

 ‘And you want the purse, for some reason,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘For a farm,’ Pippin said. ‘For a family that will be thrown off the land unless their lease is renewed, for the land is not mine to give but belongs to the Tooks.’

Ferdi nodded. He remembered old Renibard Took-Grubb.

Pippin reached into his shirt and pulled out a bag. It jingled as he tossed it on the bed. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Your second-place winnings from the Tookland races.’

 ‘But you said...’ Ferdi protested.

 ‘I said I ought to confiscate it, in a fit of temper,’ Pippin said. ‘That’s what began this whole mess, my impulsiveness, my lack of control. In a fit of temper I ordered the pony destroyed, and if not for your actions he’d have been destroyed, undoubtedly. I ought to be paying you a reward instead of fining you for your actions.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Ferdi, deeply sorry. I’ve worked hard to master my temper, but I’ve a ways to go yet.’

 ‘Aye,’ Ferdi agreed absently, his head spinning at this sudden reversal of his fortunes. Recalling himself, he said, ‘but you pronounced a judgment, and you cannot take it back...’

 ‘Nay,’ Pippin said regretfully. ‘I need to mind my tongue a bit better, don’t I?’ He sighed, looking down at the floor and then at Ferdi once more. Master Harlo, in the meantime, had dropped off to sleep, his little head cushioned against the Thain’s shoulder. Pippin took this opportunity to sink into the chair by the bed. Miss Daisy was contentedly exploring Ferdi’s ear, listening quietly to the rise and fall of their voices.

 ‘You were my father’s conscience for years,’ he said. ‘You lived under the Ban he unjustly imposed. You could have escaped it, gone to Woody End to live with your sister and her family, but you chose to stay.’

Since no words seemed to be needed on his part, Ferdi said nothing.

 ‘I’m glad you’re my head of escort,’ Pippin said, ‘keeping you at my side, as it were. It seems I could use a conscience of my own,’ he added wryly, ‘someone to remind me of the consequences of hasty words and thoughtless actions.’

He nodded at the bag on the bed. ‘That contains your winnings,’ he said, ‘take-away a fair price for Dapple. I asked Old Tom how much she was worth, considering her age and condition after those dogs mauled her so badly.’

 ‘I don’t understand,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘I counted out Dapple’s price,’ Pippin said. ‘The rest is yours. You’ve paid more than half the restitution now; you’ve brought the stallion back...’

 ‘He brought me back, you mean,’ Ferdi said, in defence of the truth.

 ‘In any event, he’s here and ready to train and ride,’ Pippin said, ‘though from what I saw at the pony races he doesn’t seem to need that much training. I have the feeling he already knows about racing.’ He shifted the sleeping babe more comfortably in his arms and resumed his train of thought. ‘You’ve brought the stallion back, and you’ve redeemed Dapple in coin.’ His nod indicated the bag still on the bed. ‘With what remains, you could take third at the All-Shire races and still have enough to redeem Penny.’

 ‘I could...’ Ferdi said, hardly daring to believe. This morning he had wakened amidst ruin and ashes, but now a spark of hope began to glow within him once more. ‘I could take third...?’

 ‘Not that you must take third place, mind,’ Pippin said hastily. ‘If you wish you may still go on to win.’ He sighed, a faraway look in his eye. ‘It would be a fine thing to beat the best of Buckland,’ he said. ‘I'd thought to lay a little wager with Merry...’