Chapter 2. Stay with Us for It is Nearly Evening

After dropping his bag at the room, Fastred walked with Ferdibrand out of the Smials. They made their way in silence, but Fastred noted how the chancellor's eyes took in every detail around them.

They crossed the stones of the courtyard before the Smials, to the large field studded with colourful fabric booths, alive with noise and motion and mouthwatering smells. They passed through the busy fair to the racecourse, already crowded with hobbits awaiting the official start of the celebration. Many had found vantage points on the hill overlooking the course, or in one of the nearby trees.

Fastred would have had little luck trying to push through the crowd to see what was happening had he been by himself, but the Tooks and Tooklanders gave way before his guide, with polite nods for the Thain's chancellor. They reached the front of the crowd, finally, and Ferdi indicated that they would watch from there.

The Thain stood with the steward slightly behind him. Another hobbit who looked slightly familiar was on the Thain's right, and as this one lifted his arms to gain the attention of the crowd, Fastred realised that he was looking at the Mayor. The latter had opened a festival at Greenholm some years back, but such a small community could not often command a visit from the Mayor, who had more calls on his time than he could fill.

Now the Mayor spoke and the crowd quieted quickly.

'Ladies, and gentlehobbits!' he shouted. 'Tooks and Tooklanders! We thank you for your welcome and hospitality!' Tooklanders raised a shout. 'Hobbits of the Four Farthings, we thank you for coming to celebrate the end of harvest on this fine day!' All the rest of the hobbits gave a cheer. The Mayor grinned then, and bowed to the Thain. 'Let us thank Thain Peregrin and his Mistress for hosting us this day.' A great cheer swelled as the Thain acknowledged the crowd. 'As Mayor of the Shire, I now declare the festivities to be open!' All the hobbits raised their voices in glad acclamation.

The Thain put a hand on the Mayor's shoulder and spoke close to his ear. The Mayor nodded, looking directly at Fastred and his guide, then back to the Thain, speaking a few words of his own. He then turned to address those behind him. Fastred saw several bright heads in the little group, evidently the Mayor's family. While many golden-haired children had been born in the Shire in the past thirty years, it seemed the Mayor's family had been especially blessed.

At the same time, the Thain spoke to a tall lad beside him, and the lad began to herd several smaller hobbits before him towards the bright booths.

'Right, then,' Ferdi said. 'Business done, now the fun can begin.' He moved across the space to the dignitaries. Fastred realised belatedly that he was expected to follow, and he stumbled to catch up. Two of the taller lasses behind the Mayor smiled, and he thought it must be at his clumsiness; he set his lips in irritation. They thought they were so high and mighty, did they? Above other commoner folk, he supposed. Born in the lap of luxury, never knew a day's work or discomfort, probably.

'Mayor Samwise, may I present Fastred of Greenholm?' Ferdibrand said, coming up to the little group.

The mayor nodded, saying pleasantly, 'Just call me Sam. Most folk do.'

'Thank you, Sir,' Fastred replied.

'Sam,' the Mayor prompted.

'Sam,' Fastred said, uncomfortable, aware of the eyes upon him, seeing the breeze teasing at the golden hair. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the Mayor, but how they wanted to stray.

'Rose,' the Mayor said, 'Would you mind taking the children around the fair without me? We will join you later at the feast.' The Mayor's wife answered with a smile of her own, and began to shoo her brood before her, from the tallest tweens down to little Tolman. The eldest lad had noticed Fastred's stare; he took possession of the two tallest daughters' arms, tucking them securely into his own as they walked away, while one of the lasses giggled and protested, 'Frodo! I can very well mind my own feet...'

'Let us walk,' the Thain said then, and taking Fastred between them, Mayor Samwise and Thain Peregrin began to stroll away from the festive booths, Ferdi and Regi falling in behind.

The annual Tookland Pony Sale took place together with the harvest festival, and as they crossed to the far side of the track, they strolled past caravans and picketed ponies, hopeful hobbits already looking over what was on offer, and sellers singing the praises of their charges to the passers-by.

The Thain stopped abruptly to admire a fine head. 'Lovely,' he breathed. 'Good lines.' He stepped up to the pony, and at a nod from the hobbit that held the beast, he ran a hand from the shoulder down the foreleg, nodding to himself, then stepped back for another look at the beast.

'Oughter be,' the seller answered. 'His great-great-grandsire was your own fine pony, Sir.'

'Socks?' the Thain said in astonishment.

'O aye,' the seller answered, amused. He put a finger to the side of his nose. 'There was a little matter of a fence that got jumped, and...'

'Ah,' the Thain said, light breaking on his face. He frowned. 'As I recall, my father compensated the owners of all the mares involved...' Shaking his head, the frown turned to a chuckle. '...when they ought to have paid a stud fee, as it turns out.'

'Aye,' the seller grinned. 'Fine lot of foals resulted, all fast and strong. But very spirited!'

'Just like their sire,' Pippin said wistfully. He still missed the old pony. 'How much?'

'For you, Sir...' the seller made a great show of considering. He named a price and Fastred had a hard time containing his shock.

'Special price just for me, eh?' the Thain said, eyeing the seller sharply. He shook his head and started to turn away, and the seller said quickly, 'But Sir, he won the pony races this year...'

'At that price, he ought to have,' the Thain answered. 'I'll give you half.' It was still an enormous amount, to Fastred's thinking, but the seller acted as if he'd been deeply wounded.

The twain dickered back and forth until a price was settled upon, and then at a look from the Thain, Ferdi took several gold coins from a pouch that hung from his belt and paid the seller, taking from him the lead rope. 'I'll just see this lad safely back to the stables and catch up with you,' he said.

'But...' the seller protested, only to see Ferdi vault onto the bare back of the pony, knee the creature around, and lean into a canter towards the Smials. 'No saddle or bridle,' the seller breathed. 'Won't he break his neck?' Evidently not. Even as they watched, the pony vaulted the fence around the racecourse and continued at a good clip around the grand curve, slowing as he reached the gap in the fence where the racers entered, prancing along the circumference of the fairground towards the stables.

'Is the chancellor not getting enough exercise?' Samwise asked as they walked away, reaching the end of the rows of ponies on offer, and out into the field, away from the fair and the sale and the bustle of hobbits on holiday.

Pippin answered, 'The trouble is, he's bored. No real challenges to sink his teeth into, these days, with everything so quiet in the Shire.'

The Mayor nodded and turned to Fastred. 'I understand you are having some trouble with ruffians,' he said.

'Yes, Sir... Sam,' Fastred responded. 'We of Greenholm and the Far Downs had been farming in the Westmarch for some time, now, for the land stretched before us and it seemed a pity to let so much go to waste...'

'I'd imagine it started with a shepherd, looking at all that good green grass on the far side of the Bounds,' Pippin said. 'Or perhaps a few sheep strayed in that direction, and following them, the herders could see no reason not to bring the whole flock out that way.'

'It is good grass,' Fastred said. 'And someone's grandfather, or perhaps his grandfather's grandfather, took some sacks of acorns and planted stands of trees here and there, and long enough ago that the trees are nicely grown. Might have been a woodcarver thinking of his grandchildren's children. There's quite a lovely little woods following the stream from the Far Downs to the River Lune.'

'Yes, I can imagine the river bottom would be well-watered,' Sam said thoughtfully.

'So the land is not quite as empty as one would think,' Pippin said. 'But there have always been some adventurous souls... however would the Shire have been settled in the first place, otherwise?'

'Well, there are no settlements, really,' Fastred said. 'Even before the ruffians came, people chose to keep their homes in Greenholm and go out to farm or graze or chop, but come back again in time for supper. Starting a new town is a large undertaking, and not one to be taken lightly.' He remembered hearing the arguments between his father and his uncles. 'Some of the bolder ones would venture further into the land, live in caravans for the growing season, and return to town for the winter. But the ruffians have put a stop to that.'

He told of the raids. Several hobbits had been killed trying to defend their holdings from the ruffians' night attacks, but most had fled back to their winter homes within the borders of the Shire.

'What have your Shirriffs reported about our Western border?' the Thain asked the Mayor, and Fastred suddenly remembered that the office of First Shirriff was attached to the mayoralty: he was head of the Watch. His brother's caution came to him, then, that the Thain did nothing without a purpose. Meeting the Mayor was not just social obligation, it seemed.

'No ruffians have tried to cross the Bounds,' Sam said slowly. 'There were reports of hobbits being killed beyond the border, but the Shirriffs aren't allowed to cross the line, at least, not officially.'

'The ruffians haven't needed to cross the Bounds!' Fastred snapped. 'They have easy pickings in the fields beyond the border. Whole flocks have vanished, into their bellies, probably, and croplands have been stripped.'

'I'm surprised they'd do that much work,' Pippin said.

'At first they let the hobbits harvest their own crops and merely stole the full waggons as the farmers drove them Shirewards,' Fastred said. 'Since the hobbits have stopped harvesting, the ruffians have had to do a bit of work to take our crops; but in any event, we'll be short of food this winter. We had begun to rely on those crops to our West... and now the farmers daren't stir out of the Bounds to gather them in.' It rankled. There was good land out west, land for the taking; for some reason empty, but fertile and fair, fair as far as he'd ridden towards the Sea with his father before the ruffians came.

His father had dreamed of settling there, starting a town, a new beginning... before the ruffians came and struck him down as he defended his fields.

'Have the guardsmen seen aught?' the Thain asked, but the Mayor shook his head.

'Nothing has been reported to me,' he answered. 'I'll send a message to Bergil, see what he has to say.'

'There have been no attacks on the Shire proper,' Fastred said, 'not on the Western Bounds, anyhow. The ruffians always strike beyond the Far Downs. They strike only hobbits, and the guardsmen do not bother them since their orders are to guard what lies within the borders.'

'They are bound to their orders,' Sam said quietly. 'They cannot leave their posts, unless they actually see ruffians committing mischief.'

'And the ruffians are too clever for that,' Fastred said bitterly. 'They strike only out of sight of the border, and so have no worries.'

'I do not see what you expect me to do,' the Thain said.

'Call a muster of hobbits!' Fastred said angrily. 'Drive them out!'

'They are not in the Shire,' Pippin said. 'My hands are tied... my authority ends at the Bounds.'

'But...' Fastred sputtered. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 'You're going to give the land to the ruffians?' he said through his teeth.

'The land is not mine to give,' the Thain answered quietly. 'If it were a part of the Shire...'

'You want more land to rule over,' Fastred said, bitterness rising in his heart. 'You offer to protect our crops, in return for us adding our meat to your stew pot.'

The steward bristled and the Mayor looked very sober, but the Thain only shook his head. 'I'm stuck with what I've got to chew,' he said honestly, 'full up to here.' He held an expressive hand to his chin. 'I do not need your meat.' At the younger hobbit's shocked expression, he sighed, and then he did a surprising thing.

Taking off the heavy ring that was seal and signet of the Thain, he held it out to Fastred. 'Go ahead,' he said, 'put it on.' Fastred shook his head slowly. Surely the Thain had taken leave of his senses. Thain Peregrin smiled faintly. 'What's the matter?' he asked. 'Don't you want the Thainship?' He laughed, a humourless sound, at the horror on Fastred's face. 'I thought not,' he said, putting the ring back on his hand. 'Do you really think I'd want to add to my holdings?' He shook his head again. 'I'm only Thain because someone has to be.' He held up a restraining hand to silence what the steward had been about to say and turned to walk away.

'Let him go,' the Mayor said softly. 'He hates the ruffians, hates them with a passion very un-hobbitlike, but he does not yet see his way clear to helping you. Give him some time to think.'

'Did someone mention ruffians?' Chancellor Ferdibrand said brightly from behind them. 'Tell me more...'