March 25th, S.R. 1419, the Great Smials

(companion story to "March 25, 1419, Just outside the borders of the Tookland, in the Woody End")

The day dawned grey and drear, and though the Sun could be seen in the sky, behind a covering of high clouds, She seemed impotent, her light feeble, scarcely brightening the day. Somehow the air felt ever more close as the hours wearily passed, even though a cold wind was blowing steadily from the direction of the Northfarthing, that had sprung up in the night hours and continued to rise throughout the day. Mistress Eglantine, after seeing to all the necessary tasks, and seeking to fill her time and thoughts with some that were unnecessary into the bargain, simply to be doing something, did not miss her husband at first. For of course, Thain Paladin was out and about, busy formulating plans for the defence of the Tookland, talking with his heads, especially the hunters, from whom the bulk of the border defences and spies had been drawn, and farmers, who must plough and plant even though they were under siege, for all practical purposes. Perhaps even more so because of that state of affairs.

But when Paladin missed taking the noontide meal with her (and she hadn't seen him since early breakfast), Eglantine decided it was time to put her foot down. After some searching and more questioning of various hobbits in the Great Smials, Eglantine found herself blowing hard breaths, her shawl clutched around her shoulders, as she toiled up the side of the massive hill facing the Great Smials, nearly to the top. Paladin was sitting upon the hillside, on the cold grass, as if he were a heedless tween and not Thain of all the Shire. An archer stood to either side, cloaks blowing in the wind, and four others, she knew (though she could not see them) lay in hiding atop the hill, watching in all directions in the event some harm should approach and threaten the Thain, even here, in the midst of the Green Hills. 

'Come down this great hill; come inside, love,' she said when she'd caught her breath somewhat, resting a hand upon his shoulder, and her voice sharpened as she added, 'before you catch your death out here!'

To her surprise, she felt him shudder beneath her light touch, and when he looked up, his eyes were full of tears. 'Why would anyone want to run after death, to try and catch Him, is what I'd like to know! So young Pip would say when you scolded him for going out without his jacket...'

She found herself blinking back her own tears...but one of them needed to be practical at the moment, and in this moment, it wasn't her husband doing the work.

'You should come in,' she said more gently.

But he spoke as if he had not heard. 'How many Tooks have I sent to their deaths today?' he said. When she caught her breath sharply in distress, he lifted his hand to hers, still resting on his shoulder, and clung to her as if seeking strength if not comfort. 'How many of those I sent out this morning to gather information from the Outer Shire will Lotho's Men hunt down and take to the Lockholes, where I hear they have decided to see how long a hobbit can go without feeding him?'

'I –' she said at a loss. 'But you cannot simply close the border and sit behind it, you said so yourself! Not knowing what devilry they might be planning... you swore to protect the Shire-folk!' She added lower, thinking of the impossible task that had been set before her husband bare years earlier, 'All who would look to you, that is. The Outerlands are a lost cause; they listened to Lotho and his promises, they believed in his assurances of gold and good fortune.' She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice as she said, 'And look where it has got them.'

She squeezed his shoulder. 'At least you saw him for what he was,' she said. He'd said to Lotho, come to offer false tears in pretended sympathy at their loss of their only son, If anyone is going to play the chief at this time of day, it'll be the right Thain of the Shire and no upstart.

Her husband tilted his head further to look up at her, searching her eyes. 'Is it enough,' he said, 'to set traps and dig pits? For the ruffians have been growing ever bolder, and the threat of arrows is not enough to hold them back any longer. But at what risk to the Tooks who taunt them and scamper before them and lead them into the traps, to give them pause in crossing the borderlands?' His eyes anguished, he said, 'Did I do wrong in turning Pimple Sackville-Baggins away? Ought I have bowed and scraped to him instead? Met him with a smile as false as his own and pretended respect and cooperation?'

'My dear,' she said, at a loss.

He shook his head and stared straight ahead at the Smials, at the courtyard that was now empty, though but a few hours ago, riders had departed in all directions. Some would leave their ponies at the border and creep into the Outer Shire on foot to gather information that Paladin could use to craft his defensive strategies on behalf of all Tooklanders; others would trade places with those already guarding the borders and who would return to the Great Smials on the same pony for some relief from their demanding task – a hot meal, a bath, a stretch of sound sleep before returning to guard the borderlands once more.

'They swore an oath to defend me,' he said. 'And in defying Lotho, it seems I have only strengthened his resolve to have the Tookland under his thumb... his Big Men grow ever more numerous and determined.' His voice broke. 'I am undone – I, who swore an oath to defend the Tooks and Tooklanders... and now I send them out, to die for me? What presumption!'

She suddenly plumped herself down on the hillside beside him, and even as he gazed at her in astonishment, she said firmly, 'For all Tooks and Tooklanders!' Meeting his eyes, demanding his full attention, she said, 'They are laying down their lives for all of us! Not just one poor benighted farmer-turned-Thain, but for us all!' 

In a lower voice, but losing none of her urgency, she said, 'Don't you remember the reports we heard, after Pip –' her voice broke on the name, but she cleared her throat and forged determinedly on, 'how waggonloads of food were leaving the Shire, the life-blood of the Shire-folk, with winter coming on! How Lotho's Men were gathering – and not sharing, for all their promises – and food was increasingly dear and hard to find...

'O,' she said, unable to keep all bitterness out of her voice, 'I've no doubt Lotho and Lobelia enjoy a groaning table and warm fires, considering he's declared himself Chief of All Outside the Tookland...' Her gaze bored into his. 'But so far, at least, no Tooks nor Tooklanders have gone wanting for basic food or shelter or wood or coal to warm them through the cold months. Our labours, at least, have not gone southwards in waggons!' She put an arm around him and squeezed hard. 'And they can thank the Thain for that!'

As if he had not heard a word, he said, 'I cannot explain it, my love. A growing fear is on me, a feeling of dread, creeping into my very bones with its deadly chill.' 

She shivered and nestled closer, and his arm went around her in return. The two clung together as if facing a gathering storm, as if a greater wind than the one blowing at the moment would sweep them from the hillside and into oblivion.

But then the wind died altogether, and the Sun, already dim, bleared in the sky as the light failed. Eglantine heard one of the archers cry out, though his voice sounded vague and indistinct, as if smothered even as it emerged from his lips. And then all sounds from the Great Smials below them or in the surrounding Green Hills were hushed: neither wind, nor voice, nor bird-call, nor rustle of leaf, nor whinny of a pony nor lowing of a cow nor baaing of sheep...nor their own breath could be heard; the very beating of their hearts was stilled. Time halted.

Clasping each other tightly, the Thain and Mistress of Tookland waited for they knew not what. Eglantine was vaguely aware of the archers to either side of them crouching low, thrusting their bows into the sky above them and holding them aloft as if to ward off a threatened blow. 

Then presently, a tremor ran through the earth, and they felt the very hillside beneath them quiver. A sound like a sigh went up from all the Green Hill country about them; and their hearts beat suddenly again...and a great wind rose and blew...and the Sun regained her brightness, as if She had suddenly remembered how to shine. The shouts of their guardian archers, now standing erect and reaching to the sky, rang out clearly now, and Eglantine, drawn by the movement, saw one of them send his bow cartwheeling high into the air and catch it again. Below them, doors were thrown open and hobbits poured out of the Great Smials into the courtyard, and out of the dwellings and shops and businesses of Tuckborough in an ever-growing throng.

Below them, the waters of the Tuckbourn shone like silver, and the sound of joyous singing wafted to them from the courtyard of the Great Smials and the streets of Tuckborough below, from the archers to either side of them and from the top of the great hill. Joy welled up in Eglantine's heart, from what source, she could not tell, but when she looked deeply into Paladin's eyes, she saw a reflection of her own elation.

'It is going to be all right,' the Thain whispered, his voice incredulous.

Somehow Eglantine found within herself the courage and determination that had kept her, all these months, after the disappearance of her youngest child and only son, through increasingly bleak times that promised to turn desperate, and sooner than later, or so it had seemed to her, even as she endeavoured to bolster her husband's spirits through it all. Striking Paladin smartly on the arm, she said firmly, 'O' course it is! Isn't that what I've been telling you all this time?' 

***

Author's note: Some small part of the text was borrowed from "The Steward and the King" and "The Scouring of the Shire" in The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien and woven into the narrative. I promise, I make no profit from this and seek only to offer encouragement, and homage to the Professor for the great gift he left us.