Chapter 14. From the Journal of Fortinbras Took, S.R. 1158

When first I began to keep this journal, I thought journal-keeping a great chore, and difficult. Now it is not so great a chore, I confess, for it is a good thing to have some"one" to tell my thoughts to, thoughts that would have me restricted, perhaps, to one sweet at teatime should I voice them in the hearing of my mother or aunts.

But I find the task difficult even now, for a different reason.

Da is home!

I cannot find the words to express my joy and relief. My father has been away for so very long!

I thought perhaps he might never return. I thought perhaps some day he'd send for us, and we'd remove to the North-lands as Uncle did. It is true that he has had his differences with Grandfa.

But Uncle Bandobras is very much better, after they despaired of his life in early summer. Sun-struck, he was, and very ill for months after, and Grandfa sent my father to oversee Uncle's holdings in the North-lands.

Father said at teatime on his arrival that the North-lands are looking very much like any of the other Farthings, though it has been only ten years or so since they drove out the last of the wolves and goblins. Now there are smials and settled fields and clotheslines and other sorts of homey things.

Father said a great deal more, not at teatime but in the Thain's study. It was difficult not to hear what he said, the way he and Uncle were shouting. He called Uncle Isenbras names, like "pompous ass", and said he was... but I fear I cannot spell the next... presumtuous and premature.

And his next words made me tremble, I know not why. He said that he would be Thain over Grandfa's dead body.

And then Mum caught me listening at the study door and shooed me away.

But Grandfa was at late supper in the great room tonight for the first time since...

He looked smaller somehow, not so straight and proud as I remember him. And his hand shook when he sugared his tea.

His eyes were hooded, and he looked at no one.

But Da spoke loud and jolly, as if it were any other occasion, and had many a story to tell of the hobbits who have gone to farm the North-lands. Their harvest was in long before ours, for winter comes earlier to their lands. Already the hills in the North country are wearing a dusting of snow.

I expressed my astonishment. It is not even October!

My father laughed, tousled my hair and said how good it was to be home, to hear the wise pronouncements of his young owl.

I have no idea what he was talking about, but at least it made Grandfa smile.

***

Author's note: There are two "uncles" under discussion here, Bandobras and Isenbras, in case you were confused. Fortinbras doesn't always clarify; he knows whom he means!