Note to the Reader:
This story is set the autumn after the finding of the Thain's treasure (see "StarFire" for details), several months before King Elessar met his friends and Counsellors at the Brandywine Bridge.

In the Greening of the Year

Chapter 1. To Be Back in Time for Tea

It usually takes four hours to ride from Whittacres Farm to the Great Smials, if one does not stop to make a picnic along the way, or if rain has not muddied the track, or if snow does not lie upon the Green Hills, beautiful but very slowing to travellers. On this day the track was muddy from storms crossing over the Shire in waves over the course of the previous fortnight. The sky above was grey and overcast, but no rain fell at the moment.

 ‘ ‘Tis a good thing we left early!’ Eglantine Took said stoutly, patting the neck of her gentle mare as that beast made her careful way along the track. ‘Foot by foot, dear,’ she bent to whisper. The brown ear twitched to hear the words and the mare’s pace slowed as one hoof slipped. ‘At this rate it’ll be after teatime before we arrive!’

 ‘If the going is too difficult, Mistress, I could take you back to Whittacres. I know Mistress Pearl would be happy to send you by way of the Road in comfort and safety,’ Tolibold answered. He was not happy about Eglantine’s insistence on riding across the countryside as she had in years past, instead of on solid, dependable roads.

 ‘The long way round!’ Eglantine snorted. ‘And miss Pimpernel’s birthday breakfast on the morrow!’ It could take the better part of a week to travel by road to Waymeet, over the East-West Road to the Brandywine, south to Stock, and finally westwards once more, to Tuckborough. A new road was planned between Bywater and Tuckborough, but that was all it was as of yet—a plan.

 ‘I could take your message to her, Mistress,’ Tolly said. He didn’t mind so much travelling these muddy tracks, but Eglantine was well advanced in years and he hated the thought of facing Thain Peregrin should any mishap befall her.

Eglantine heeded him not at all, but began to sing in a high, reedy voice as she pressed her mare forward on the widening track. ‘Should a lassie fair be married in the greening of the year, greening of the year, greening of the year...’

Tolly sighed and set himself to follow. Stubborn, the Mistress was. It was the way of all Tooks. It was his own way as well, actually. He permitted himself a grin, though he was in the midst of serious business: escorting the mother of the Thain over slippery trails with more rain threatening. Truth be told, he was in a hurry to reach home and hearth, himself—his Sweetie and his own tiny babe a-waiting. He raised his voice to join in the song.

Should a couple’s love be growing in the warming of the year,
warming of the year,
warming of the year,
Should a couple’s love be growing in the warming of the year,
Then we’ll sing the song and carry it along!

Should a bouncing babe be borning in the turning of the year,
turning of the year,
turning of the year!
Should a bouncing babe be borning in the turning of the year,
Then we’ll sing the song and carry it along!

A lengthy song it was, with many verses, and a fine rollicking tune that made the ponies prick their ears and lift their heads. Were the footing less muddy it would surely set the ponies to prancing as well, but they continued to pick their way with care as their riders sang them along.

Should the farmer be a-ploughing in the greening of the year...

They reached the place where the track dipped down into the valley of the Tuckbourn. The stream was swollen to the size of a river, churning along with a loud and boisterous voice. Tolly urged his pony abreast of Eglantine’s gentle mare, catching at the reins to bring both ponies to a halt just shy of the spread of water. ‘Over her banks,’ he said.

 ‘True,’ Eglantine said, her eyes narrowing as she regarded the old bridge that would take them across the stream, leaving them a bare hour of travel to reach the Great Smials.

 ‘Over the footings,’ Tolly said in tacit protest.

 ‘ ‘Tis a sturdy old bridge,’ Eglantine answered. ‘Been there since I was a faunt! My own father helped the Brandybuck engineers who built it after the old bridge washed away!’ Brandybucks were responsible for most of the bridges in the Shire, with their unnatural affinity for water.

 ‘Well this one looks to be on its way to washing away,’ Tolly said, not releasing his grip on Eglantine’s reins.

 ‘Are you afraid of getting your pony’s feet wet?’ Eglantine chided.

 ‘It’s not my pony’s feet I’m worried about,’ Tolly said.

 ‘The stream’s been higher than this and the old bridge stood through it all,’ Eglantine said. ‘See, even though the bridge itself is ankle-deep, the railings are standing firm and proud.’

 ‘You let me be the judge of that, Mistress,’ Tolly said. ‘You wait here.’

He slid from his saddle, handed his reins to Eglantine, and waded into the shallow water separating them from the bridge, shuddering at the feel of it around his ankles. He enjoyed a bath as much as any other hobbit, but to wade into water, deliberately, and cold water at that! Not to mention that it was water from a river, and Tooks knew that rivers were treacherous things at best.

Reaching the bridge, he grabbed at the railing as the current sucked around his knees. The bridge rose in a shallow arc, but even the middle was submerged, at least ankle deep if his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

He turned to call back. ‘We might lead the ponies acrost, Mistress, but I wouldn’t chance riding them!’ Hopefully the prospect of wading knee-deep in the muddy water would deter Eglantine. He ought to have known better.

 ‘Very well!’ she called back, and started to ride forward.

He held up a commanding hand. ‘Stay!’ he shouted. ‘I haven’t made absolutely sure it’s safe yet!’

 ‘Safe and solid, I warrant!’ she called back, but she obediently pulled the ponies to a halt.

Grasping the handrail for dear life, Tolly waded onto the bridge.