CHAPTER 3

The following morning, Freddy and Jolly offered to take the cooking chores. Poppy informed Freddy that she and Viola would be going into town to check out the market, and bring back some fresh fruits and vegetables.

Freddy pursed his lips. He really had no authority over Poppy, he knew it, and she did as well--Poppy and Viola were not officially with the hobbit embassy, but were travelling as private individuals. “Who is going with you, Mistress Poppy?” he asked.

“Mosco insists on coming along, and the lad Bergil.”

Targon overheard the discussion. “Anwynd shall also accompany you,” he said firmly.

Poppy looked as if she would protest, but instead snapped her mouth closed and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Further, Mistress Poppy, as you plan on purchasing foodstuffs to be used by this company--” he held out a small pouch, which she took, and looked within.

“What are these?” she asked curiously, taking out one of the small pieces of paper it held.

“Those are chits on the King’s funds. The merchants may bring them and redeem them for coin ere we depart.”

She nodded. These Men had some very strange customs. Why not just use coin to begin with? Ah, well. Perhaps that was too simple.

Just then, a large waggon rolled into the camp. When they had been in the town the day before, É othain had made arrangements for a blacksmith to visit the encampment and check the horses and ponies. Three Men and one hobbit got out of the waggon, which held a small anvil. It was the smith and his three apprentices. They would spend most of the day checking over the animals.

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As they entered the gate, standing open as it was day, Viola was very nearly treading on her mistress’ heels. Mosco walked alongside his cousin, who was gazing about her with frank curiosity. Anwynd and Bergil walked behind, Bergil excited simply to be doing something a bit different than the usual campside chores, Anwynd keeping an alert and careful watch over his small charges. Bree was known as a pleasant and peaceful town, but there was no accounting for what some people might do.

Poppy stopped. “Where, I wonder, will we find the market stalls and shops?”

Bergil went forward to her side. “Oh, I know! I remember from when we came through here before, Mistress Poppy!”

“Well, then, lead the way, lad!” she said briskly.

“Yes, ma’am!” he grinned. The others followed him as he turned onto the main thoroughfare and led them past The Prancing Pony. Viola moved even closer to her mistress, if that were possible, gazing about with wide eyes at the tall buildings looming over them, with their great doors and many square windows. A party of Big Folk walked past them, and though they smiled and nodded pleasantly, she found herself holding her breath until they had gone by.

They came to a cross-street, and there running up and down it, were a number of shops, as well as carts and barrows of fruits and vegetables being sold. “Here we are,” said Bergil, unnecessarily.

“I can see that,” said Poppy dryly.

She wandered up and down the area at first, simply looking over what was on offer, and not getting close enough to draw the attention of the sellers. She wanted a chance to see what was available before she actually began to make purchases. Mosco walked by her side, and Viola on her other side, with Anwynd and Bergil trailing silently behind. Most of the merchants were engaged in business, and did not pay close attention to one who was seemingly not interested in buying.

She turned and went back a few feet to a large stand overflowing with some lovely vegetables and fruits. It was tended by a cheerful looking hobbit matron.

“Good day to you,” said Poppy.

“And good day to *you* Mistress! You are from the Shire, from the sound of your words!”

“Indeed I am,” she answered.

“You are a healer?” for the vegetable seller had spotted Poppy’s pendulum.

“Yes, I am Mistress Poppy Burrows. This is my apprentice, Miss Viola Harfoot, and Mosco Burrows of Frogmorton, my first cousin once removed. And these are our friends from among the King’s people, Anwynd of Rohan, and Bergil of Gondor.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, Mistress, it is unusual to see Shire-folk traveling with Big Folk.”

Poppy grinned. “It is unusual, I daresay, but I hope with time it will become more usual. These are some uncommonly nice looking vegetables. Surely it is early in the season for peaches and tomatoes!”

“Why, I thank you! My family has a glass house, where we are able to get an early start on many things that otherwise would need to wait for longer days and warmer weather!”

Poppy picked up a lovely ripe tomato, and held it to her nose. “Very nice indeed, I should say.” She took out the pouch with the chits, and showed one to the vendor. “Are you familiar with these?”

The other hobbit smiled. “I am familiar with what they are--we have seen a few of them since the King’s messengers began to come through last fall. But I have never had occasion to take any. How do they work?”

Anwynd cleared his throat, and Poppy gestured for him to speak. “Little mistress, you will indicate the value of the purchases here--” he pointed to a spot on the chit where an amount was to be written-- “and you take them to the encampment to exchange for an equal amount in coin.”

“I thought” said Poppy, “that you could deliver the purchases at the same time that you redeem the chits?”

“That sounds fair,” she replied. The two of them set to haggling. It was amicable, in the way of hobbits, as they established whether there was any family connection between them, and as was usual with hobbits found one, though very distant indeed.

“We will need enough of everything to feed nine Big Folks and eight--no, twelve--hobbits…” Poppy shook her head; she had nearly forgot about the prisoners. But after all, they needed to eat as well.

They finally agreed on the amount, and the vendor produced a quill and ink from one of her capacious apron pockets, and it was written on the chit. “I’ve one of the Big Folk whom I hire as a carter from time to time. We will deliver the produce to the camp this afternoon.”

“Thank you very much, Mistress Sandheaver,” said Poppy. “We also need to see about some dried vegetables--especially mushrooms--and some staples, such as flour and molasses. Do you have anyone you might recommend?”

The little group went on their way, and soon, Mistress Poppy was satisfied with the purchases she had made. All the vendors were to deliver their goods and redeem their chips.

“Aunt Poppy,” said Mosco, “It is past time for elevenses.” His stomach gave a rumble, as if to punctuate the sentence.

“So it is,” laughed his cousin. “I daresay we could take a late elevenses or an early luncheon, if you please.” She looked at Bergil and Anwynd. “You have been here before. Where is this famous inn of The Prancing Pony, of which I have heard so very much.”

Viola had grown a bit less timid, as they had passed down the streets of Bree without incident, but she felt very small indeed as the group entered in the doors of the inn.

There were some tables and chairs sized for hobbits, of course, but the party wanted to stay together, so Butterbur himself led them to a Man-sized table near the center of the room, and brought cushions for the hobbits to sit upon.

They lunched upon a freshly baked chicken pie, with cheese and bread and blackberry tart for afters. A pot of tea was brought to the table, though Anwynd and Mosco both ordered some of the Pony’s famous beer. Anwynd and Bergil had finished their meal long before Poppy, Viola and Mosco even began to slow down. Bergil entertained the group by telling them all that Pippin had recounted of the hobbits’ stay at The Prancing Pony, and their meeting with the mysterious “Strider”.

“Sir Pippin said they’d no idea who this scruffy person was, and none of them were much inclined to trust him until they finally got the letter that Mithrandir--Gandalf--had left for them.” Bergil shook his head in amazement, as this part of the tale always seemed so unbelievable to him. He’d never seen his King in anything but majestic splendor, and had a most difficult time imagining him as “scruffy”.

When they finally finished their meal, Poppy decided that it might be a good idea to return to the encampment, so that they would be present when the merchants began to deliver the produce and other goods they had purchased that morning.

The streets were even busier now after luncheon than they had been before, and Viola found herself once more crowding to her mistress’ side. Poppy turned at one point to reprove her, but on seeing the expression on her apprentice’s face, thought better of it. The lass was clearly doing her best to contain her fearfulness, and a rebuke might do more harm than good. Still, Poppy did not regret bringing her--this experience should be very good for her in the long run. And in the short run, Poppy might have to have a few talks with her.

When they returned to the encampment, it was just in time to see Mistress Sandheaver arrive with the delivery of foodstuffs. Freddy was delighted to see them, and immediately began to make new plans for the evening’s supper.

Poppy looked about the encampment. The two captains were in earnest conversation about the journey, and Berilac was listening intently. Leodwald of Rohan and the Dwarf, Gimli, were assisting the blacksmith and his apprentices as they were shoeing one of the horses and checking over one of the ponies. Artamir appeared to be on watch, Adrahil and Borondir were busily inspecting some of the tack. Rolly and Denny were helping Freddy and Jolly clean up after luncheon. Danulf was watching the prisoners, who sat sullenly outside their tent. Poppy grinned as she noticed a rag stuffed in Clovis’ mouth. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving hobbit, she thought wryly. She looked about. Where, she wondered, was the Elf?

Targon came over to speak to Mistress Sandheaver, who showed him the chit. He smiled, and taking out a pouch, counted over the coin that had been agreed upon. Poppy watched as the hobbitess grinned, and stowed the coin in one of her pockets.

Mistress Sandheaver turned and saw Poppy, and came up to her. She had been looking about the encampment curiously. She looked rather taken aback at the sight of the prisoners. “What is the story, there?” she asked curiously.

Poppy glanced over at them. “They were collaborators and traitors during the Troubles. We found out about them when the King’s Men came through. The two younger ones were foolish enough to attack the Men’s encampment while they were in the Shire. They are being taken to the King to be judged.”

Mistress Sandheaver’s eyebrows climbed at this news. *That* was going to be an eye-opening bit of gossip! “So who are they?”

Poppy’s face took on an expression of disapproval, but she reminded herself that this was Bree-land, not the Shire. Perhaps they did not understand about not naming those who were banished. “They *used* to be the head of the Banks family, his two sons, and the head of the Bracegirdle family.” She shut her mouth with a snap, and the hobbit from Bree realized she would not get any more information.

“Well, Mistress Poppy, it has been both pleasurable and profitable doing business with you. I hope I will see you again.”

“Thank you, Mistress Sandheaver. I am sure we will be passing this way again.”

The merchant took her leave, and Poppy noticed that some of the other vendors she had done business had arrived with their deliveries. She turned and saw Targon coming to deal with them. Where was Viola? Ah, talking to young Berilac. She summoned her apprentice to her side. She was going to have a talk with her.

Just then Legolas entered the camp, and was greeted with joy, as he presented Freddy with a brace of nice plump pheasants.

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In the small tent that the two healers shared, Viola seated herself apprehensively. She thought perhaps her mistress might be angry with her.

“Viola,” said Poppy gently, “are you still frightened? I noticed that you kept very close to me in the town.”

“It’s so very *big*,” answered the apprentice. “I never really understood how *big* it all would be.”

“If you do not think you can overcome your timidity, I am sure I can find some hobbits here in Bree who would be willing to escort you back home to the Shire, if that is what you wish.”

Viola’s brown eyes grew wide. It had never even occurred to her that her mistress might offer to let her go home. But--

“No,” she sighed. “I will try very hard to be less timid, Mistress Poppy. I do not wish to leave you.”

Poppy smiled and gave the lass a hug. “There’s my brave lass! This will be very worthwhile to your future, you know, for us to learn all we can of the Outlands way of healing.”

“I know, Mistress. Thank you.”

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Dinner at the encampment that evening was a festive affair, with succulent roasted pheasant, a large salad Freddy had made with the fresh vegetables that had been delivered, potatoes roasted in the coals, and griddlebread. Jolly had also made a peach cobbler.

Afterwards, the group sat about and listened to Anwynd and Bergil play their flutes, until the stars were all out and the Moon was high. Then one by one, they drifted off to their bedrolls, leaving only Leodwald and  Adrahil to keep the first watch.