Chapter 35. For Old Times' Sake

Ted’s steps took him a little further than Tolly’s had, and he ended near the decaying stump of what had once been a tall tree. ‘I remember now!’ he said, his face lighting, and he moved to the site of Tolly’s recent excavations and scooped up the little spade. ‘Between the roots, it was; Uncle told the tree to guard our treasure--‘twas still standing, then, an old grandfather with a lightning-blasted crown.’ He continued to speak as he pushed the blade into the soil and lifted it out. It was a bit awkward, barefoot, to push down upon the spade with his foot torn and bleeding from the thorns, but he managed. ‘Must’ve come down in a storm, some years back, and been scavenged for the firewood.’

‘Aye,’ Tolly said, though his arrow did not waver. ‘Fallen wood is free to any who’d cut it up and haul it away, as it ever was.’

‘Not under Lotho, it wasn’t,’ Ted said, digging away, and then he stopped, realising his mistake. ‘But of course, you’ll have gone back to the sensible ways of the Shire before Lotho.’

‘For the most part,’ Tolly said, though his jaw had tightened at the reminder of the Troubles.

Ted resumed his digging, but his words were slow, as if he were thinking through them as he spoke. ‘So you see, it isn’t just Men who can be ruffians, but Hobbits as well.’

Tolly blinked at this--he might’ve bristled, but for the mention of Lotho Sackville-Baggins, who had been just as much a ruffian as any of the Men he hired, in truth if not in stature. Tolly had to admit this fact, though he'd never thought of it in just that way before.

‘We talked about it, about hiring one of the Shirefolk to retrieve our valuables for us,’ Ted went on.

‘Talked about it,’ Tolly prompted, when only the sound of the spade had been heard for a few moments.

‘Talked about it,’ Ted affirmed, ‘but then we didn’t know as we could trust just any hobbit...’

Had he not been holding his arrow steady, Tolly would have scratched his head at this. As it was, he furrowed his brow. ‘You might’ve sent me a message,’ he said at last. ‘You must’ve known that I’d’ve helped you, any way I could.’

‘Well, we might’ve,’ Ted said, ‘only we didn’t know where you were to be found, or even if, if you take my meaning. The hobbits who drove us from the Shire were Bolgers, and they didn’t know you from a Baggins... They told us of the Battle of Bywater, and how an hundred Tooks marched to the defence of the Shire, and some fell there, dead or badly wounded, but they couldn’t tell us if you were one of them... Uncle asked in particular, and Dad did, but they couldn’t name any of the Tooks there, save Captain Peregrin, the son of the Thain.’

Tolly shifted uneasily, but all he said was, ‘You might’ve sent word to the Great Smials, any road, and asked, at least.’

‘But your father told us in particular that his family were not of the Great Smials,’ Ted said, ‘and surely there be many Tollys amongst the Tooks.’

‘More than one,’ Tolly acknowledged. ‘Tis a common enough name, though Tolibold might’ve brought you better result.’

‘So,’ Ted said, and then he stopped, and bent to the hole, dropping the shovel, and swept away the dirt with his hands, with care, and lifted a box of rough-carved wood, half-rotted but still whole, and cradled it to his breast.

Tolly lowered his bow. ‘Truth,’ he whispered. There really was something buried on the land, though what the box contained was still to be seen.

When Ted made no further move, Tolly cleared his throat. ‘Open it,’ he said.

The man started, for he’d been a world away in his thoughts, thinking of an uncle long dead, a mother waiting in Bree without knowledge of her sons’ journey, having been told only that they’d gone a-journey to do some trading, a wife who knew that her husband walked into danger, though she didn’t know exactly what that danger was, but all for the sake of his mother, and the promise of a better life.

Slowly, Ted lifted the lid of the box. First he brought out a cloth-wrapped object, and from a rent in the cloth there was a dull gleam, as of badly tarnished silver. When the man took the cloth away, Tolly saw that indeed, it was a silver cup, one he remembered standing proudly on the mantel, polished until it shone. A leather bag was next. Tolly walked forward, bow at his side, and held out his hand. Ted poured out a few coins into the hobbit’s hand, and Tolly nodded, closing his fist. ‘It is as you said,’ he murmured. He lifted his hand, and Ted held the mouth of the bag open, that Tolly might pour the coins back into their resting place. ‘And the jewellery?’

For Ted still clasped the box to his breast, and Tolly could not see into it. ‘It is here,’ the Man said, stirring the contents with the fingers of his free hand.

‘I would see,’ Tolly said.

Ted hesitated, but then he suddenly lowered the box, holding the lid open. Tolly looked into the depths and was transfixed at the sight. Yes, it was the chain of silver filigree that the hobbit remembered, even from the small glimpse he'd had, and somehow it was wondrously untarnished, like that mailcoat of Bilbo Baggins that he’d seen once, shining as if light itself had been captured within the intricately worked metal. But the jewel...

He was aware that he’d been holding his breath when specks swam before his eyes, and his head swam. He took a shaking breath, reaching a tentative hand into the box to touch that marvellous jewel...

It was with difficulty that he withdrew his hand again, after cupping the jewel in his palm for a long moment. ‘If your father and his family were not ruffians,’ he whispered, ‘then how did poor woodcutters come to own such a treasure?’

‘It’s a long story. But... You can see how we feared to trust anyone with this commission,’ Ted said.

‘Aye,’ Tolly agreed, his bow hanging forgotten at his side. ‘It would be hard to dig up such a treasure, and give it up after holding it... and the Shire custom says that legendary treasure belongs to the finder. That jewel... it must be something of legend.’ He raised his eyes from the necklace in the bottom of the wooden box, to gaze into Ted’s face. ‘I’d like to hear the story of it.’

‘If you’ll untie my brother,’ Ted said, ‘we can make a fire, for the darkness is falling, and dig some wild roots for roasting, and gather a few mushrooms and berries, and then...’ he took a deep breath, ‘and then, we’ll suffer ourselves to be tied up again, and delivered to the Bounds, if only you will swear to us that you’ll deliver this box and all it contains to our mother in Bree, that you’ll deliver it yourself and trust no one else to do so.’

‘I’ll not promise any such thing,’ Tolly said, and the man’s shoulders slumped. ‘But I’ll think on it, this night, while I listen to your tale, and if I find that the jewel indeed belongs to your family, I’ll see what I can do for you.’