Chapter 38. By Any Other Name*

It was not quite an hour later that Mistress Eglantine stalked across the yard and stopped, looming over Ferdi, diminutive as she was, for he was seated and she, beloved and respected Mistress in the eyes of the Tooks, seemed to grow to troll-height when ill-pleased.

Her voice was low and pleasant, but there was a steel undertone that made the head of escort wince away much as a hobbit lad anticipating a boxing of his ears. ‘And what brings you out of your bed on this lovely day, Ferdibrand?’

 ‘I... I just wanted a bit of air, Mistress,’ he stammered. It was rather awkward to bow, in his position, and he nearly fell out of his chair when he did, which hardly made things any better. Eglantine herself caught him and righted him, her hands remaining on his shoulders a moment in firm message: Stay put! ...before moving to his leg, to adjust it on its pillow.

 ‘You’re weak as a kitten and twice the trouble,’ she said, her customary smile growing thin at the corners. ‘I know for a fact that you weren’t to be out here until the morrow.’ She glared across the ring at Hilly, who was putting the stallion through some basic exercises, so intent on the work that he had not even noticed Eglantine’s arrival. ‘I suppose it was his idea?’

Ferdi tumbled all over himself in his effort to get the words out. ‘No, Mistress, it was all my...’

 ‘Indeed,’ Eglantine said, raising an eyebrow. ‘I find it difficult to believe, in your condition. What did you do, tie him hand and foot and drag him out here?’ She nodded significantly at the rope in Hilly’s hands. ‘How convenient.’

Ferdi wanted to laugh but didn’t quite dare. The Mistress had told a joke, true, but there was no denying the snapping of her eyes, the tightness of her smile.

To make matters worse, Tolly arrived.

Eglantine put two-and-two together at once. ‘Ah, Tolly,’ she said. ‘You’ve come to help Ferdi back to his bed, I gather.’

 ‘Yes, Mistress,’ Tolly said respectfully. He skirted the paddock, walking to the far side to tell Hilly to put up the rope and help him with Ferdi.

Eglantine called him back as Hilly was looping the rope into a coil. ‘Very thoughtful of my son to send you out,’ she said kindly.

 ‘Yes’m,’ Tolly replied. ‘He said an hour only, for the first day, and had Regi remind him of the time just to be sure.’

 ‘Did he?’ Eglantine said, and Tolly stiffened, aware he’d made some sort of error, but not exactly sure what the matter was.

She remained silent until Hilly returned at a trot from putting the rope away, and then with a bright smile said, ‘That’s fine, now; you get the head of escort comfortably settled... who’s to be his watcher?’

This would not be the time for Ferdi to protest that he didn’t need a watcher.

 ‘I, Mistress,’ Hilly said hastily. ‘I was to watch with him until eventides, and then Ev’ard.’

 ‘Good,’ Eglantine said. ‘Very good. Carry on.’ She turned on her heel and sailed regally across the yard and into the Smials. The three hobbits of the escort heaved simultaneous sighs.

 ‘Someone’s for it,’ Tolly muttered. Ferdi only shook his head, and Hilly said nothing. Hilly and Tolly carried on, carrying Ferdi out of the yard and into the Smials.

He had to admit, he was ready to stretch out upon the bed, and his leg was hurting somewhat as Tolly gently nestled it amongst the pillows.

Meadowsweet cleared her throat in the doorway; she was holding a covered cup. ‘I was sent to bring this draught to you,’ she said to Ferdi. 

 ‘Who sent you? The Mistress?’ Tolly asked, meaning Eglantine of course, forgetting for the moment that his wife served Diamond.

 ‘No, the Thain,’ she said, ‘Healer Woodruff said she wanted you to rest before tea, Ferdi, and that your leg would undoubtedly be giving you some discomfort...’

Ferdi snorted at the term. “Discomfort” could mean a slight twinge or a crushing pain, in the language the healers employed.

 ‘Woodruff knew Ferdi’d be up and out this afternoon?’ Tolly said. He hadn’t had that impression from Eglantine’s demeanour.

 ‘The Thain asked her how best to protect the progress you’ve made, Ferdi, and keep you from having a set-back,’ Meadowsweet said, entering and extending the cup, ‘what with the necessity of having the stallion ready for the race and all.’

 ‘Woodruff knew,’ Tolly said as if to himself, feeling only slightly relieved, ‘but the Mistress didn’t.’

Ferdi nodded, and took a steadying sip of the soothing mixture. If all went well he’d drift off and sleep through the repercussions of the Mistress not being completely informed of events. Cowardly, perhaps, but convenient.

But all was not fated to go well. Before he could down half the mixture, Eglantine was in the doorway, saying briskly, ‘A moment, Ferdibrand, before you take that draught.’ She entered and took the cup from his hand, turning to dismiss Meadowsweet and Tolly (the latter left with a distinct feeling of relief that he was evidently cleared of wrongdoing). She set the cup conveniently out of reach and settled in the chair beside the bed. ‘Let us have a nice little chat.’

 ‘Yes’m,’ Ferdi said glumly, and proceeded to fall silent.

 ‘Hilly,’ Eglantine said conversationally. ‘Did you set out those chairs by the paddock?’

 ‘No, Mistress,’ Hilly said. ‘They were already set up there when I went out to work with the stallion.’

 ‘The Thain told you to work with the stallion,’ Eglantine stated.

 ‘Yes’m,’ Hilly said. ‘I’m to work with him every day until Ferdi’s back on his feet. I got a great deal of advice from old Ferdinand, and was going to try to muddle my way through until Ferdi...’

 ‘You were surprised to see Ferdi out today?’ Eglantine asked.

 ‘Indeed, Mistress,’ Hilly said and fell silent. He wasn’t sure just who was in trouble and he didn’t want to put his own foot in the snare by chance. Although he had helped to carry Ferdi out to the yard, he'd been honestly surprised that Ferdi'd been allowed, nay, encouraged, to be out of bed so soon. But he wasn't going to say any more than he was asked, just to be safe.

Eglantine’s little chat was not going all that well, it seemed, but then Pippin spoke up from the doorway.

 ‘Well, Mother, Tolly told me you were here,’ he said.

 ‘Come in, Peregrin,’ she answered, and Ferdi and Hilly exchanged glances. All doubt had been removed.

Pippin entered, straight and proud, serious, a bit quizzical perhaps. ‘How are you feeling, Ferdi?’ he asked.

Eglantine interrupted Ferdi’s answer. ‘I expect his leg is aching a bit, but other than that he’s well—no thanks to my son!’

 ‘I’ll just be going, then,’ Hilly said hastily, and forgetting that he’d been assigned as Ferdi’s watcher, he exited the room.

Ferdi wished he could make as neat an exit. He glanced once more at the cup on the table. No help there; it was definitely beyond his reach, unless he were to get up from the bed. He did not want to draw any attention to himself, however...

 ‘Woodruff said he could...’ Pippin began.

 ‘How much badgering did it take? How many assurances? How many concessions, on your part?’ Eglantine demanded. ‘Just how did you talk her round?’

Instead of deflating like a scolded tween (indeed, Ferdibrand wished he could sink into his pillows and disappear like an old Baggins), Pippin stood straighter, squarely facing his irate mother. ‘I didn’t,’ he said.

 ‘You went behind her back,’ Eglantine snapped.

 ‘I told her what must be done, and she made the arrangements to her satisfaction,’ he said. ‘Healers’ assistants arranged the chairs by the paddock, per her orders, and she allowed that Ferdi could spend an hour in the yard today, and two tomorrow, and half the day the next...’

 ‘What are you about, Peregrin?’ Eglantine said. ‘What did you say to Ferdibrand in the first place? What is your hold over him? I swear, if I found out that you were using your cousin for some ill-thought-out scheme...’

 ‘All is clear between us, Mother,’ Pippin said calmly. ‘We had a misunderstanding earlier, and...’

 ‘Misunderstanding!’ Eglantine snapped. ‘The hobbit stopped talking! Worse, he stopped eating! That’s hardly a misunder—’

Ferdi was hardly about to start talking under present circumstances, but Pippin boldly interrupted his mother.

 ‘Yes, a misunderstanding,’ he said firmly, ‘but it’s all cleared up now.’

Ferdi found his tongue. ‘Aye,’ he contributed. ‘All’s clear.’

Eglantine looked from head of escort to Thain. ‘This is all about that stallion, and the All-Shire race,’ she said slowly. ‘You’re trying to force Ferdibrand into riding, injured as he is... well I forbid it, do you hear?’

Ferdi stared open-mouthed, but Pippin simply took a deep breath and set his shoulders. ‘Forbid away,’ he said coolly. ‘It is Ferdibrand’s choice. I have no hold on him.’

 ‘Not anymore,’ Eglantine said shrewdly, ‘but you did have.’

 Pippin nodded slowly. ‘I did,’ he said, ‘but I’ve put all such matters aside. I will no longer tease and worry my cousins into doing my will. It was convenient, I admit, and even diverting, but it was the shameful practice of a spoilt child and I’m done with it.’

 ‘About time,’ Ferdi muttered in spite of himself, and both mother and son looked to him in astonishment before Pippin laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

 ‘You have the right of it, cousin,’ he said, ‘and I was a long time in growing up, but I think the perilous pass is safely traversed and I’m on the other side of the mountain at last.’

Ferdi shuddered at the image, whether it was reference to the Fallohides crossing the Misty Mountains in the time-shrouded depths of history, or some hint of Pip’s own travels. He’d seen a picture of a mountain in a book, and that was the closest he cared to come to such a thing. Green Hills were enough for the likes of him.

Eglantine misread the shudder, however. ‘If you don’t want to ride the race, Ferdibrand, simply say so and that will be the end of it,’ she said quietly.

 ‘No, Mistress, I mean, yes, Mistress, I mean...’ he said, stumbling over his words in his haste to correct her misapprehension.

 ‘Say what you mean, then,’ she said patiently, waiting for him to regain control of his traitor tongue.

 ‘What I mean is,’ he said, ‘I do want to ride the race, indeed I do, Mistress, whether it’s Penny or the Rohan.’

Eglantine stared at him consideringly for a moment, nodded, and then said in a completely different tone, ‘That pony had better have a proper name. “The Rohan” is simply too unhobbity for words.’

And that was the end of it.

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Does any alert reader out there have a clue as to proper capitalisation of this title? My editor is on vacation. Thanks.