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Thain  by Lindelea

Chapter 22. Thain: Explanations

A stunned silence followed Thain Ferumbras’ extraordinary statement. Paladin had gone pale, but now his face flushed very red as he slowly removed his hand from Pippin’s shoulder. Seeing his fists clenched at his sides, Eglantine rose hastily and went to her husband’s side, laying an urgent hand on his arm. Paladin had come round the wrong side of Mistress Lalia, who’d ruled the Tooks before Ferumbras, and she certainly didn’t want him to make the same mistake now.

 ‘His being Thain?’ It was with obvious effort that Paladin spoke calmly, for his chest was heaving and he spoke through his teeth, forcing out each word in turn.

 ‘Da, I...’ Pippin began, but the old shepherd squeezed his shoulder gently, and he fell silent.

 ‘He won’t be Thain, no more than I,’ Paladin gritted.

Ferumbras matched his glare calmly. ‘Indeed,’ he said.

Paladin straightened. ‘My grandfather renounced the succession when he left the Smials,’ he said.

Ferumbras shook his head, something like pity in his eyes. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘but there’s nothing in writing to that effect.’

Merry looked from uncle to Thain, and then to his father. Pippin? Thain?

 ‘Not possible,’ Paladin choked out. He looked as if he were about to be taken in a fit of apoplexy, and Eglantine’s eyes were wide with worry.

 ‘Dinny-love,’ she whispered breathlessly. ‘Please...’

 ‘It looks as if he might be Thain sooner than later,’ Ferumbras said, ‘for if something happens to yourself, he'll be the one to follow me when I go... Calm yourself, cousin… Baragrim!’ he snapped out suddenly.

The head of the Thain’s escort jumped up, reaching Paladin’s side as Pippin’s father staggered, taking hold of him from one side—Pippin grabbed his father’s other arm to hold him up—and guiding him to a chair. Another hobbit hastily dashed a glass of water into Paladin’s face, causing him to shake his head, and Pearl grabbed up a wineglass and held it to her father’s lips, urging him to drink, while Frodo and several others fanned the stricken hobbit with their serviettes.

 ‘Surely,’ Eglantine quavered, ‘surely there’s something in writing.’

Ferumbras shook his head. ‘Adelard has searched through the records,’ he said, ‘and found nothing. It may be family legend, the parting words of Hildigrim to my father, but family legend is not binding, nor has it the same weight as a document with the requisite number of signatures in red ink.’

 ‘You’re saying,’ Eglantine said, and stopped, swallowing hard.

 ‘I have no son, no heir,’ Ferumbras said. ‘Paladin is my next-of-kin. He inherits all my holdings, should I mount my pony and fall on my head this day.’

 ‘Don’t want...’ Paladin mumbled, pushing away the wineglass, but he was just as likely talking about his inheritance.

Ferumbras smiled faintly. ‘I thought I might marry,’ he said. ‘At one time I was quite hopeful.’ His eyes rested for a moment on Pearl, and then went back to Paladin and Eglantine. ‘But now I see there’s no point in it. Even if I should marry at this late date—’ he shook his head, eyes glinting with regret ‘—even if I should father a son, I should have to rival the Old Took, for him to be old enough to follow me as Thain.’

Merry looked to his father, who was nodding. The Tooks were not like the Brandybucks. If his father were to die before he came of age, a regent would watch over Buckland until Merry was old enough to take the reins. But the Tooks demanded immediate succession by a qualified candidate. They were too impatient to wait for a young heir to grow into the position.

 ‘But what if my husband renounces the succession now?’ Eglantine said boldly.

 ‘I am sorry, my dear,’ Ferumbras said. ‘Old Gerontius made it quite clear that it was up to his children to make up their minds, for all time following. The choice did not fall to their descendents. And so Isembold removed his line from the succession, and Hildifons...’

 ‘He had no line,’ an old gaffer interrupted, before his wife jerked his arm to silence him. ‘He went off on a journey, like mad Baggins...’

 ‘The papers are all in order, as old Gerontius set them up,’ Ferumbras said. ‘You cannot shirk your duty, short of being under the Ban or banished outright.’

Paladin straightened in his chair. ‘I have never shirked my duty,’ he said bleakly. The ruddy colour had faded from his face, leaving him stark white.

 ‘I know,’ Ferumbras said. ‘It’s a bitter draught to swallow, cousin, but I thought it better to bring it up now than to let you bind yourself into a contract, a totally unsuitable arrangement for the son of the future Thain.’

Paladin’s mouth worked, but no sound emerged.

 ‘In any event,’ Ferumbras said, as if there were no staring crowd surrounding them, ‘your son must commence his training. He has known only the life of a small-holder. He knows nothing of life in the great holes, or management of more than a few pigs in a pen, or a single flock at best. The Thain holds a great deal for the Tooks, and you... and your son... have much to learn before you’re harnessed to the waggon. I don’t expect to live forever.’

 ‘His training,’ Eglantine echoed.

Ferumbras nodded. ‘He’ll ride back to the Smials with us, I think,’ he said. ‘He might as well begin his lessons at once. Reading, writing, ciphering...’

Eglantine lifted her chin. ‘I’ve taught him such,’ she said proudly.

 ‘Riding,’ Ferumbras said, ‘management, dress, manners,’ his mouth twisted, ‘even dancing. A Thain must be a well-rounded hobbit, after all, and young Peregrin has only thirteen years or so to prepare.’

 ‘Thirteen years?’ Eglantine said.

Ferumbras smiled without humour. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘If your husband is dead-set against being Thain, he can resign the office in favour of his son as soon as the lad comes of age... if Paladin can bring himself to saddle his son with the position so soon, that is.’

Pippin had the bewildered look of a wild bird as the cage door closes.

 ‘Well then,’ Ferumbras said. ‘It was a fine feast, and I thank you for your hospitality. Unless the lad would like to stay and open his presents, I do believe it is time for me to return to the Smials now.’

 ‘I—’ Pippin whispered, gulping.

 ‘Fine, we'll have your things sent on,’ Ferumbras said, turning to his head of escort. ‘Saddle our ponies, will you?’

 ‘Very good, Sir,’ Baragrim said.

 ‘Will you be staying over, my dear?’ Ferumbras said to Pearl.

Pippin’s oldest sister shared a look with her husband. They had planned, as a matter of fact, to stay a week at the farm before going back to the Great Smials. But if Ferumbras were to be dragging Pippin there... well, the lad would need someone familiar to take his part, to ease his way in unfamiliar circumstances. At the moment, the way Pippin was looking, she thought it better to cut their visit short and keep watch over him.

 ‘No, Sir,’ she said. ‘If it’s no trouble, we’ll ride back with you.’

 ‘No trouble at all,’ Ferumbras said easily. He moved forward, bowing to Paladin. ‘I hope you feel better soon, cousin,’ he said. ‘I thank you for your generous hospitality.’

Nodding to Eglantine, he put an arm over Pippin’s shoulders, and talking jovially, he led the tween away.

It appeared that Merry wouldn’t have a chance to speak to his younger cousin after all.





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