Chapter 32. Thain: The Right Place at the Right Time, part 1

O I'll take the Long road, for I know the way;
And you'll take the Short to arrive ere I may.
But I'll win the race, for you know what they say:
"Short cuts, they make for long delays. Short cuts, they make for long delays."
  --Tookish Walking Song

The young Tooks, tweens who shared Pippin’s afternoon instruction, were more animated that day than usual. Indeed, there was even a rumour of food that sprouted wings and flew through the air, though when an older Took stalked over to their table, the riotous talk subsided suddenly. The lads sat demure as lasses in a sewing circle, passing the food down the table in a more conventional and socially approved manner.

When old Uncle Flambond turned away with a sniff, the tweens’ behaviour continued to be sedate, though the table buzzed with such energy it was a wonder that it did not take flight, plates, utensils, food and all.

 ‘And have you heard the latest?’ Isenar hissed, looking around the group.

Hilly leaned forward; he had an ear for gossip. A chorus of whispered “What?” went around the table.

‘Old Ferdinand’s wooden teeth have disappeared! Imagine it! Someone had the nerve to walk into the old fox’s den and lift them while he was asleep!’

‘Where was his watcher?’ Hilly said. ‘Didn’t anybody notice anything?’

‘Not a thing!’ Isenar said smugly. ‘You know how it is; he’s so sour that they can only find the stupidest watchers to sit with him...’

Pippin jerked upright. ‘That’s hardly fair!’ he said. ‘The watchers are all very devoted to their duty, and old Ferdinand is difficult, to be sure, but...’

‘Bet it didn’t sweeten his temper any,’ Fortinald said with a snicker. ‘When did it happen?’

‘Yesterday,’ Isenar said.

‘I can imagine he gave his poor half-witted son a miserable time of it at late supper, then,’ Everard said, from further down the table. Being ten years older, he was nearly to his majority and thus did not take part in many of the pranks and scrapes of the younger lads.

Tolibold, Hilly’s older brother, nodded sadly. Truth be told, he rather liked Ferdi’s company. Ferdi wasn’t one for the Talk, which Tolly despised, and he didn’t chew one’s ears off in a manner of speaking, while stalking wild birds and coneys, which was a good thing in Tolly’s estimation. He was one of those rare Tooks who preferred comfortable silence to aimless chatter.

Hilly’s lip curled, but at Pippin’s sorrowful expression he suppressed the sneer, putting on a neutral expression. ‘I can imagine,’ he said. ‘Look, here he comes now, as a matter of fact, and he looks worse than what the cat dragged into the stables this morning.’

‘Not that you’d catch that one in the stables, without him being dragged,’ someone muttered, but Pippin said “Hush!” The entire table quieted as Ferdibrand walked up to them. It was a wonder, Hilly thought to himself, that the dimwit knew where he was going, walking with his head so low. But Ferdi stopped before Pippin, holding out a folded paper, though he never lifted his eyes from his toes.

‘What’s this, Ferdi?’ Pippin said, infusing cheer into his tone as he turned from the table. He paused, as if awaiting an answer, and then taking the paper he opened it to peruse the writing therein. His face broke into a wide grin, and waving the paper he turned back to the group. ‘Half holiday!’

A cheer broke out, quickly stifled as heads turned in their direction.

‘What is it?’ Hilly said, trying to get a glimpse of the writing, though Pippin held it just out of his reach.

‘Isum’s been called to consult with the Thain,’ Pippin said, folding the message and tucking it away. ‘He says we’re to practice the skills we’ve been learning...’

‘Riding?’

‘Shooting?’

‘Tracking, I think,’ Pippin said in satisfaction, and when Ferdi would have pulled away he grabbed the older tween’s sleeve. ‘Ferdi, I do believe we shall need your help; for surely Master Verilard is busy catching fat coneys for the Thain’s supper...’

Ferdi shook his head, slowly at first but as he tried to pull away his countenance took on a more panicked look.

‘We shall!’ Hilly said, jumping into the conversation. He’d found that to be in Pippin’s good graces, one must be kind to the lackwit—at least, in Pippin’s presence. And it didn’t do to tease Ferdibrand in Pippin’s absence, he’d discovered, for all too often it reached Pip’s ears and he’d deal sternly with the culprit. Hilly had been lucky enough to be a mere bystander on one such occasion, and he’d mended his own ways quickly. He did not want that icy regard turned in his direction, nor to be frozen by his cousin’s disdain. ‘Who’ll be the Fox?’ he added. ‘Ferdi?’ He put on a smile. ‘You’ve learnt so much of tracking from Master Verilard...’ His smile became more genuine as he imagined the panic-stricken tween running ahead of a pack of baying young hobbits after they flushed him from cover.

His older brother Tolly rather spoiled things, however, by saying, ‘Nay! Ferdi’s to run with me! Who else, I say?’ Ferdi succeeded in pulling free of Pippin’s grip, but then he stood still, as if in astonishment, at Tolly’s approbation.

‘I!’ said Everard.

‘I’ll be the Fox,’ Pippin said decidedly, and of course there was no gain-saying him.

‘The younger set ‘gainst the older,’ Tolly said. ‘And whoever finds the Fox first and flushes him out wins the round!’

In any event there’d be no losers. The group that didn’t find Pippin first would have to buy a round of drinks for the Fox and the successful Hounds, but all would enjoy downing the half-pints allowed tweens, fresh and cool after a rousing chase.

‘So, where do we end?’ one of the younger tweens wanted to know. His half-pints came few and far between, and so he hoped his elders would elect a place with decent beer, at least.

‘Bird and Babe,’ Pippin said, which was the tweens’ cheeky name for the “Falcon and Faunt”, roughly two miles from Tuckborough as the crows fly, or somewhat longer if you stayed in the lane. ‘If you haven’t found me by eventides I’ll meet you there!’

***

The lads divided themselves into two teams or “hunts” while Pippin made his preparations, going to one of the assistant cooks to cadge a bit of bread and cheese, a few apples and pocket-pies and a few other odds-and-ends for a “picnic tea”. All was soon tied up in a sack that he threw over one shoulder. As he exited the Great Smials by one of the lesser doors, a quiet voice stopped him.

‘Are we going somewhere?’

‘Baragrim!’ Pippin said, affecting surprise, and then allowing some of his real chagrin to show he lowered his bulging sack to the stones of the courtyard. ‘O—you thought I was going off without an escort, did you?’

‘Appearances can be deceiving,’ the head of escort said mildly. So far the tween had given him no trouble. He went about with his cousins a great deal, of course, making a formal escort hobbit unnecessary. Or so Baragrim told Ferumbras, whenever the old hobbit asked.

‘I’m just waiting for my cousins,’ Pippin said. ‘We’re to have a grand chase, Fox and Hounds, you know.’

‘Ah,’ Baragrim said. ‘I’d heard something to that effect. Going to go baying about the countryside with a pack of tweens, are you?’

Only if they find me, Pippin thought, but gave only a grin in answer.

Baragrim chuckled. ‘Don’t run yourself to ruin, young fellow!’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Pippin promised. Shouldering the sack, he went whistling across the courtyard to the stables, ducking into the dusty quiet. Most of the ponies were out in the field in such splendid weather, and at this time of day much of the stall-cleaning was done and the stable hobbits were enjoying a space of free time after the noontide meal.

Thus no hobbits saw him as he walked down one of the long corridors of the stables, exiting through a side door, out into the sunny meadow where ponies grazed, a solitary figure, and gloriously alone.

***

Author's Notes:

"Fox and Hounds" is a game from my childhood, and also one I've seen in several literary places, amongst them The Railway Children by E. Nesbit.

The "Bird and Babe" (Falcon and Faunt) is a bow to the pub where the Inklings met upon a time, the Eagle and Child in Oxford, where I had the good fortune to lunch with Marigold, Llinos, Piplover and the Knitted Hobbits one amazing day.