Sparks of kindness kindle love's glow.
--Shire proverb

Chapter 1. News from Bree

Tookfields-on-the-Water, near Bridgefields, S.R. 1388

 ‘Where’s my little treasure-box? Where’s my cup of honey-mead, half-drunk-up but never empty? Where’s my little barley cake?’ The rich syllables rolled forth, interlaced with laughter.

Little Rosemary Took pulled away from the hairbrush, crying, ‘Uncle Ferdi! Uncle Ferdi!’ Her favourite uncle was home again at last.

Trailing undone laces from her dress and half-brushed curls she raced into the yard, her mother’s voice lifted in protest behind her, to be caught up in a whirl; the world spun around her in a blur of green and blue and silver. At last the world stopped and a series of kisses landed upon her forehead and cheeks.

 ‘Num, num, num,’ “Old” Ferdibrand said with each kiss. ‘You’re good enough to eat!’

Rosemary was laughing helplessly and pushing against him to get down.

A kiss landed upon her wild curls and her uncle made a sound of dismay and disgust. ‘Argh!’ he cried, ‘but someone has baked their hair into this teacake!’

 ‘Uncle Ferdi!’ Rosemary giggled, pushing again and he set her down in the yard. She immediately began to dance and clap her hands. ‘What did you bring me? What did you bring me?’

A small but very determined missile interrupted the uncle’s reply, however, as “Young Ferdibrand” launched himself and landed upon his uncle’s chest, caught as always in his uncle’s strong arms, for he could never take “Old Ferdi” by surprise no matter how he tried.

 ‘What did you bring us?’ the little lad’s voice added his demand.

 ‘Ferdi, you spoil them dreadfully,’ Stelliana Took said from the doorway of the smial. She advanced, hairbrush still in hand. ‘Rosemary, look at yourself! You’re a sight! Your dress half on and your hair...’

 ‘Ah, she is a sight indeed,’ “Old” Ferdi said, seeing his little niece wilt at her mother’s words, but he wore a fond smile and scooped Rosemary close once more as he clarified, ‘a sight for sore eyes!’

 ‘Ferdi!’ Stelliana scolded, but she could not quite manage to keep hold of her frown as he turned to her with sparkling eyes, still hugging her little ones close.

 ‘Hair will keep,’ he said firmly. ‘More than keep,’ he said, laughing down at Rosemary, pressing harder against him, ‘unless of course you pull it out by the roots as you try to coax the tangles.’

 ‘I never...!’ Stelliana protested, but her brother-in-love only laughed.

A booming bass laugh preceded a shout from the stables. ‘What did you bring me?’

 “Old” Ferdi turned to greet his older brother. ‘Ferdinand!’ he shouted. ‘I come empty of hand but full of heart!’

 ‘Go back where you came from then!’ Ferdinand returned, affecting severity. ‘Fullness of heart won’t win any races or pull any carts!’

 ‘Ah, but I beg to differ, brother!’ “Old” Ferdi said, managing to bow even with the two little ones clinging to him.

 ‘Did you come afoot as well?’ Ferdinand said, stopping short to look his brother from head to woolly toes and back again. ‘I sent you off with gold and gelding and you return... empty-handed? Did you throw it all away on a wager?’

 ‘I may be a Took, but I’m not a fool,’ the younger brother said. The little ones had quieted in the face of their father’s disapproval, and their uncle hugged them tighter in reassurance. ‘You know I gave up wagering!’

Ferdinand planted his fists on his hips. ‘This had better be good,’ he said grimly.

 ‘Indeed!’ his younger brother said, releasing niece and nephew to spread empty hands. ‘I was riding along with my pockets full of gold and an old wizard stepped out onto the Road and offered me a handful of magical beans...’

 ‘Magical beans!’ young Ferdi said, dancing again in his excitement. Tales of wonder, wizards and faerie folk were the spice of his young life.

 ‘Magical beans,’ Stelliana echoed in dismay, looking from husband’s ominously beetling brows to brother-in-love’s expression of innocent surprise. 

 ‘What did you do with them?’ practical Rosemary wanted to know.

 ‘I got hungry along the way, so...’ old Ferdi said, stooping to look her in the eye. She caught her breath, already divining the answer, even as he said in a voracious tone, ‘I ate ‘em!’

Little Ferdi deflated in disappointment. ‘You ate ‘em?’ he said in astonished disgust. ‘You’re not supposed to eat magical beans! You’re supposed to plant them by the light of the moon, and then...’

 ‘Well I just wish I’d had you along to keep me straight, Ferdi-my-lad,’ old Ferdi said regretfully. ‘I tell you what—next time I go to Bree I’ll take you with me!’ He straightened, to meet his older brother’s sceptical look.

 ‘That won’t do at all,’ Ferdinand said grimly. ‘You took all the gold we’ve saved, and...’

 ‘Won’t do?’ old Ferdi said, sighed, and shook his head. ‘Very well.’

 ‘Very well what?’ his brother asked, suspicion in his tone.

For an answer, his younger brother turned and whistled. The little group waited, Ferdinand in exasperation, his wife in apprehension, the little hobbits in growing excitement, and old Ferdi with an ever-brightening grin.

From the copse of trees to one side of the lane, a neighbour lad stepped forth, leading three ponies.

Ferdinand caught his breath. ‘Three...?’ he gasped. ‘I sent you to Bree for one fine brood mare, and you...’

 ‘Well, these are not exactly mares, not quite yet,’ old Ferdi said modestly. ‘They’re yearlings, and so a bit of a gamble, but...’

 ‘You said you’d left off wagering,’ Stelliana reminded him.

 ‘You should have seen their dams!’ old Ferdi burst out excitedly. ‘And their sires! Two of them are half-sisters...’

Ferdinand strode forward to meet the advancing ponies, and his brother fell in beside him, matching his strides. ‘Three mares...’ he said, guessing the parentage.

 ‘...and two stallions, aye, brother,’ old Ferdi said. ‘You were right about that Breelander with his fine ponies from the Southland. Evidently he travelled far in his youth and brought back some fine ponies and horses when he turned homewards again.’

 ‘Ponies and horses from whence?’ Ferdinand demanded.

Old Ferdi shrugged. ‘I don’t know, some rolling plain somewhere, many days to the South,’ he said. ‘Men aren’t known for their sensible ways.’

Ferdinand shuddered at the thought of travelling so far from home and hearth. They had reached the beaming neighbour, and he took in the fine heads, intelligent eyes, clean lines of the young ponies before him. He ran a hand down a leg of the nearest pony. ‘Promising,’ he breathed, standing upright once more. ‘Very promising indeed.’ He shook his head, adding thoughtfully, ‘Nearly makes one want to travel to these mythical Southlands, if one might find such fine beasts there...’

Old Ferdi laughed heartily. ‘Now you’re the one having me on!’ he said. He thanked the neighbour lad, fished a copper from his pocket, took the ponies’ leads, and sent him on his way home, that he might not be late for tea.

Stelliana, who had caught up with them, took her husband firmly by the arm. ‘He travels quite enough already,’ she said decidedly.

 ‘Not quite enough,’ Ferdinand said, patting his wife’s hand.

Stelliana rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming.

 ‘We’re off again?’ old Ferdi said. ‘Where are we going?’

Young Ferdi started to blurt something, but his sister clapped her hands over his mouth. ‘It’s not your news to tell,’ she corrected him.

Ferdinand wore a smile of his own. ‘That matched foursome,’ he said, ‘the one that took so long to put together, and that I was working with when you left...’

 ‘You found a buyer!’ old Ferdi said.

 ‘Brother mine,’ Ferdinand said loftily, looking down his nose at old Ferdi. ‘I have found not just a buyer.’

 ‘I don’t understand,’ old Ferdi said. 

 ‘When hobbits see our foursome trotting down the Road, pulling the coach of the Thain...’

 ‘The Thain bought the bays?’ old Ferdi said, stunned.

 ‘Better,’ Ferdinand said smugly.

 ‘Better?’ old Ferdi said, looking from Stelliana’s shining eyes to Ferdinand’s broad grin to the excited little hobbits.

 ‘Better,’ Ferdinand said. ‘Herself!’

 ‘Lalia bought the bays?’ old Ferdi said.

 ‘Sight unseen,’ Ferdinand said. ‘It seems our reputation as the finest pony trainers in the Shire has reached the Great Smials.’

 ‘And whichever way go the Great Smials...’ old Ferdi said, his own grin broadening.

 ‘So goes the rest of the Shire,’ Ferdinand said. ‘At least, the rich folk do.’

 ‘Well, brother,’ old Ferdi said. Had he not been holding the leads he'd've rubbed his hands together to warm them in anticipation of gold's chill. ‘Not only have we become all the fashion, but we’ve now the brood mares to found the finest stables in the Shire.’

 ‘Better than magic beans any day,’ Ferdinand muttered, stepping forward to acquaint himself with the young ponies.