Chapter 20. Thain: Change in the Wind

In the deep dark halfway between middle night and dawn, a tap came at the door. Gladdy danced to the door, carolling a song of welcome. ‘How do ye?’ the hobbit at the door said, stepping in with a grin.

 ‘Thom! Ye’re in good time!’ Gladdy said. ‘There’s just time for a mug o’ tea afore the washing up is done.’

 ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Thom answered with a bow. He’d set out from Whittacres just before midnight, and while the night was mild, he was feeling a mite sleepy, as he allowed.

 ‘So kind of Paladin to send a cart and driver for us,’ Gladdy said. ‘I don’t know as I’d’ve been able to come to the birthday breakfast, otherwise.’

 ‘ ‘Tis only a haycart,’ Thom cautioned, ‘but the best he could send, indeed! Waggon won’t go well on these back-country tracks!’

 ‘Piled high with hay, I’d warrant ‘twill be as comfy-cosy as the Thain’s own coach,’ Gladdy said with a decisive nod. ‘Come now, Thom, and sit thasel’ doon there on yon bench, and drink up!’

Thom sat down as indicated, watching in wonder as the washing up was proceeding merrily. To see Paladin’s son, singing his way through his work, nay, better yet, working with a will, quick and efficient! It could make one wonder if this were the same lad as was hauled away before the dawning, all those weeks ago, and scarce heard of since. Talk was, he’d disgraced his parents somehow and they were trying to hush things up as best they could.

O’ course, from the joyous preparations on the farm the past few days, getting ready for the lad’s birthday, it seemed as if all was forgiven, whatever the trouble had been.

At last all was washed, dried, and put away, even Thom’s mug. Pippin held out a freshly-dried hand. ‘Well come, Thom,’ he said. ‘I trust all are well on the farm.’

 ‘You’ll be seeing soon enough,’ Thom said. ‘More than well! Why, you’d think the Thain hisself was coming, from all the preparing.’

 ‘A birthday breakfast fit for the Thain!’ Pippin said, laughing. ‘Why, this-here shepherd won’t know what to do with himself!’

 ‘Just do the next thing, just as I taught thee, laddie,’ the old shepherd said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘If’n it lays, keep an eye on it; if’n it moves, follow!’

 ‘If’n it’s dirty, wash it, and if’n it’s tasty, eat it!’ Pippin chanted dutifully, and laughed again. He patted his belly. ‘I think I’ve done enough of the latter, to keep me until we reach the farm.’

 ‘Your mum packed up a basket, just to keep you from starving to death before we reach the farm,’ Thom said.

 ‘And I’ve packed another!’ Gladdy crowed, pointing to the basket by the door. ‘Come, Thom-lad, make thasel’ useful and pack up the waggon!’

 ‘I’ll just look over the sheep once more,’ Pippin said.

The dogs came from their rest to trail at his heels, though it was early by all accounts. They didn’t mind arising well before their usual time, if it meant they’d be at the glorious work all the earlier. To their disgust, Pippin didn’t open the gate and call the sheep forth; he merely filled the water troughs and forked a goodly amount of hay into the fold. The sheep would stay put this day, safe in the fold until the shepherds’ return in the evening.

The dogs slunk back to their rest, grumbling as only a disgruntled sheepdog can do, as the hobbits settled themselves in the hay waggon. It had taken all three, Thom, Pippin, and the old shepherd, to lift Gladdy into the blanket-covered hay.

 ‘A soft bed, indeed,’ she affirmed as Shepherd Brockbank tucked another blanket around her. ‘And all the stars above for company, and the Moon too, and in a jolly mood for having nearly drunk his fill!’

The old shepherd elected to sit next to his wife, and Pippin crowded onto the seat beside Thom as the hired hobbit clucked to the pony. ‘So, Thom, tell me all the news!’ he said.

 ‘All!’ Thom said. ‘We’ve only twae hours or so...’

 ‘Just skim the cream from the top then,’ Pippin replied.

Though Thom had more desire to ask questions of Pippin, as to what had wrought this amazing change in the lad (really, the Pippin Thom knew would hardly be awake at this hour, much less cheerful!), he began to recount the happenings and the gossip of the past weeks. Gladdy put in her share of questions from the back of the hay waggon, and she and the old shepherd burst into peals of laughter at more than one point. When Thom ran out of news, there was always a song to sing, and partway through the slow, rumbling journey they shared out the contents of the baskets.

The Sun was just peeking over the Green Hills as they pulled into the yard of Whittacres Farm. ‘Goodness,’ Pippin said, staring at the tables set up, and the bustling hobbits carrying plates and baskets of bread and platters of food.

 ‘It’s a mercy you were born in midsummer, young Pip!’ Thom said. ‘I don’t think they could fit all these tables into the barn, even, were you celebrating in midwinter!’

 ‘The more, the merrier,’ Gladdy said in a carrying whisper. ‘Plenty of witnesses!’

 ‘Aye,’ the old shepherd said behind her. Witnesses a-plenty to see you become our lad.

Though the tween didn’t say so, Pippin knew what he was thinking. They’d talked it over, the past few weeks, and now the thought of signing away the next seven years no longer gave him a pang. Rather, it was a nice, safe feeling, to know his future and to be in complete agreement. He thought he understood something of his father, now. Paladin was a farmer, son of a farmer, and he was right in the place he belonged, on the farm. Take him off the farm and he was a fish out of water. Pippin felt a little of the same, coming from the wild hills to the civilisation of the farm... He appreciated his father’s wisdom in this matter, now. The hills were his home, and he could be contributing to his father’s efforts while fitting the place that had been found for him. He wondered, had his father known, twenty years ago when he’d named his son “Wanderer”?

There was no more time for thinking, for two of the hobbits had hastily put down their burdens and flung themselves on Pippin as he climbed down, calling his name as they threatened to drown him in hugs and kisses.

 ‘Nell!’ he laughed. ‘Vinca! Good to see you!’ No childish, self-centred “Did you miss me?” but hugs for his sisters, even as he looked about for his parents. ‘Something smells good! I hope you’ve not been working your fingers to the bone!’

 ‘It’s a veritable feast!’ Vinca said. ‘Why, Da even fatted a calf for the occasion.’

Eglantine came, then, falling upon her son with her arms wide. They shared a long embrace, while she whispered welcome into his ear. At last she put him back and gazed earnestly into his face. ‘You’ve been eating well,’ was all she said.

 ‘Well indeed,’ Pippin said, giving her another hug. He looked up to see his father standing by, silent, waiting, and held out his hand. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

Paladin took the hand, allowed Pippin to wring it with enthusiasm, and nodded as a smile crept across his face. ‘I’d hoped...’ he said, unaccountably at a loss for words.

 ‘Aye,’ Pippin said, and in the next moment father and son were embracing, Paladin slapping his son’s back as they parted once more.

 ‘Ye are more than welcome,’ the farmer said with a broad grin.

When Saradoc saw that Pippin had finished greeting his parents, he released Merry’s arm. ‘All right,’ he said.

Merry was off like a shot from the bow across the yard to seize his beloved cousin. ‘Pippin!’ he shouted. ‘My, but it’s good to see you! We expected you in Buckland weeks ago!’

 ‘I had a previous engagement,’ Pippin said, and turned. ‘Shepherd and Mrs. Brockbank, may I present my cousin Meriadoc Brandybuck?’

 ‘At your service,’ Merry said with a proper bow. He’d thought to pull Pippin away while the breakfast preparations were being finished, but Paladin must have given his son the chore of shepherding the visiting Brockbanks, for Pippin stayed by Gladdy’s side, introducing the old shepherd and his wife to every friend or relative that approached bearing good wishes and congratulations.

A table off to the side bore a great pile of packages in bright wrappings, for it was custom for a guest to bring a token to celebrate a new tween reaching his first score of years, but Pippin hardly spared it a glance, nor did he appear to have prepared a heap of presents of his own choosing for his guests. Empty-handed, he greeted each new arrival, thanking them for coming. ‘Frodo! And you’ve brought Folco with you. Aye, Folco, and has all that honey sweetened your disposition?’

 ‘Cloying!’ Frodo said, laughing. ‘I can hardly bear his company, but he’s stuck himself to me and I cannot win free!’

 ‘Quantities of hot water ought to suit,’ Pippin said, and immediately turned to properly introducing this cousin to the Brockbanks.

 ‘Make it tea and I’ll cooperate,’ Folco said after tendering his service to the visitors with a graceful bow. ‘In the meantime...’ He was interrupted by a shout of excitement from the fringes of the gathering crowd.

 ‘What in the world?’ Pippin said, but Frodo, who was taller than most, craned to see the newest arrivals. He grabbed at Pippin’s arm.

 ‘Don’t look now, cousin, but your birthday breakfast is to be graced with the presence of the Thain himself,’ he said.

 ‘You jest,’ Pippin said flatly, but Frodo shook his head.

 ‘Best go and greet him, lad,’ he urged. ‘He’s the one hobbit whose good graces matter.’

Pippin might have stayed to argue, in the old days—Lobelia Sackville-Baggins coming to mind as another whose good graces might matter—but mindful of his responsibilities as he was nowadays, he excused himself to the Brockbanks and thrust his way through the crowd, to find, as Frodo had said, a small party of mounted hobbits just arriving in the yard: the Thain, two hobbits of his escort, and, to Pippin's joy and delight, his oldest sister, come all the way from the Great Smials though from Thom's report she was expecting again and in miseries from the all-day-long sickness.

With all that was in him he wanted to shout, ‘Pearl!’ He wanted to hurry to the side of Pearl’s pony, help his sister down, and swallow her in a great hug, exclaiming over the tiny daughter she carried cradled against her. He wanted to move next to his brother-in-love’s pony, get crippled Isum safely on the ground and to a comfortable seat, and then deal with his little nephews, riding three-to-a-saddle.

He did none of these things, however, for he knew his duty. He bowed low before the Thain’s pony. ‘Sir,’ he said at his most formal. ‘I am most honoured that you deign to brighten this day with your presence.’

Ferumbras nodded and slid from his saddle, ignoring the steadying hand of his head of escort. ‘Happy birthday, young Peregrin,’ he said, unsmiling.

Merry made a face and as quickly schooled his expression. Proper stick-in-the-mud, the old Thain was, and the lively party threatened to become a solemn affair.

Paladin and Eglantine stepped forward, and the Thain congratulated Eglantine on Pippin’s birthday, presenting a small nosegay of bright wildflowers, picked along the way by one of the hobbits of his escort.

 ‘Thank you, Sir,’ Eglantine said with a pretty courtesy.

 ‘I hope it’s not too much of an imposition,’ Ferumbras said, turning to Paladin. ‘Pearl mentioned that she was coming for Pippin’s birthday celebration, and I invited myself along. A score of years! A goodly number.’ He’d come for another reason, a disturbing rumour that had reached his ears, but there was no need to bring it up unless it appeared to be bearing fruit.

Thain or no Thain, Tooks know how to celebrate, and after all were seated there followed a grand feast, with song and story mixed in.

Gladdy listened to many an anecdote with wide eyes. ‘Who’d’ve thought our lad to be so high-spirited?’ she whispered to the old shepherd. ‘Why, he’s as steady as the day is long in the summertime!’

Merry gave her a look of astonishment at this. He wasn’t sure who these old hobbits were, or why they were seated at the head table with the family, but Gladdy had clung to Pippin’s arm with a proprietary manner through all the preparations, and it grated on him. His parents, though equally in the dark, had treated the old hobbits with respect and the courtesy that was to them as natural as breathing, and he followed suit, though he burned to get Pippin off in a corner and ask him what was what. Well, he’d have time after the party was over and the main body of guests had departed.

Oddly enough, Thain Ferumbras had declined a seat at the head table and sat lower, eating and drinking and talking with the rest. ‘I’m here as a cousin,’ he’d said as Paladin had tried to put him in the best chair, ‘and not as close as many of the cousins here, at that! It’s not often I get to take off my official hat and enjoy a good celebration!’

At last the eating and drinking were winding down and the guests sat back, replete, though some still nibbled at this and that to fill up the corners. ‘Speech!’ someone shouted, and the rest took up the cry. Merry happily pounded the table, adding his own voice to the tumult.

Pippin stood up, seeming flustered, and looked about. ‘I... I...’ he stammered, and flushed.

 ‘Spit it out, lad!’ someone shouted, and many laughed.

 ‘I thank you,’ Pippin managed.

The crowd cheered this obvious but very suitable speech. Pippin remained standing, and all expected him next to go to the table that groaned with its load of presents, to begin opening and exclaiming over each. They’d be here until teatime at least, before every gift-giver was thanked! (Merry smirked to think of Pippin, laboriously writing out a thank-you note to each giver... It would take him a week or two of effort, at the least, but Eglantine was a stickler for such niceties. He hoped he’d be able to coax Pippin away from this onerous task to do a little fishing or a prank or two, before they departed for Waymeet, to visit Fosco’s family, and then Bag End for a week or three with Frodo.) He wondered what sort of present Pippin would have for him? Some joke or other, more than likely.

However, Pippin stayed where he was, and Paladin rose, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. Another speech? Ah, yes, the farmer was clearing his throat.

 ‘We’ve come together to celebrate a birthday,’ Paladin said. ‘My son has reached a full score, and now looks forward to the future.’ He nodded to the Brockbanks, and the old shepherd rose and moved to Pippin’s other side.

Merry looked from his mother to his father, but both seemed to be as in the dark as he was. He looked further, and was disturbed to see Pervinca blinking away tears, Pimpernel unaccustomedly sober, and Pearl pulling at Isum’s sleeve, her look distraught. Frodo’s eyes were fixed on Pippin’s face, and he nodded at what he seemed to see there. Merry wanted to pull him aside, demand to know whatever it was Frodo knew, but this was neither the time nor the place...

The Thain sat straighter in his chair, though no one noticed, for all eyes were on those standing at the head table.

 ‘You are witnesses,’ Paladin said. ‘On this day, I bind my son as apprentice to Bracken Brockbank...’

Merry missed the rest of the customary words in his perturbation. Paladin was selling his son to the old hobbit? Seven years’ servitude? His only son, and heir?

He wanted to stand up, to voice his protest, but his father put a heavy hand on his arm. Merry tore his eyes from the standing hobbits to meet his father’s calm gaze. We don’t know what this is about, Saradoc seemed to be saying, but we’ll sort it out later. What we will not do, however, is make a scene!

Merry nodded reluctantly. Two years before his father had become Master of Buckland, on the death of Merry’s grandfather, and Merry was no longer “son of the heir” but the heir to Buckland himself, which entailed certain responsibilities on his part. He’d settled into the role fairly well, but enjoyed the respites with cousins such as Frodo and Folco. He’d been looking forward to a respite from care with Pippin, as well, but now...!

The old shepherd was nodding and had begun his response, placing his hand upon Pippin’s other shoulder. Soon Paladin would remove his hand, leaving Pippin in the hands of the old hobbit, and all would be done! Merry felt his breath come short, but Frodo kicked him under the table and when he looked at his older cousin in annoyance, Frodo winked. All is well. I’ll tell you all about it later. What was going on here?

Before he could wonder further, a voice from the crowd boomed out, saying just the word Merry wanted to shout. ‘Stop!’

The old shepherd broke off in surprise, and a murmur of astonishment rose from the watching hobbits. They’d been amazed, to be sure, to learn that Paladin was selling his son, though of course he had every legal right to do so, once the lad turned twenty. But this...! The buzz quickly died as Thain Ferumbras rose ponderously to his feet.

 ‘Sir,’ Paladin said at a loss.

 ‘I do not approve this business,’ the Thain said, looking from Paladin to old Bracken. ‘If any agreement is standing, I hereby annul it. Peregrin Took, you are free of any obligation that has been forced upon you.’

 ‘No obligation has been forced upon me!’ Pippin said in protest, before he was quelled by the warning pressure of his father’s hand.

As if the lad had not spoken, the Thain continued, lifting his hand with its heavy signet, sign of his office, for emphasis. ‘I dissolve this agreement, and forbid any future binding of this lad. You wish to talk of the future? Talk, then, of his being Thain, when his time comes!’