Chapter 39. Still Waters Run Deep

Tolly walked slowly away from their parting place, leading Wren and the other ponies. Suddenly he felt as drained as the last mug of beer at the end of a long evening at the Spotted Duck, and twice as heavy. It was no wonder--he’d not slept since... His head felt muzzy as he reckoned over the hours. A day of tracking and hunting, a night of galloping and trotting, another day of nerve-wracking picking and plodding over treacherous ground... It was no wonder he was spent. And he doubted Wren would carry him much further, in any event.

And so he led his ponies slowly, along the Bounds but some miles to the south. He’d never been out of the Shire before. He’d known about the dangerous bog from the map of the Shire that graced one wall of the Thain’s study. He hadn’t known for certain that Wren could pick a path across the quaking ground, and yet it seemed the only way to save his old friends, He could not have lived with his conscience, had he turned them over to the Rangers, even if he had been able to nerve himself to travel the long, uncertain miles to Bree, to bring the jewel to their mother.

It amused him, in his exhausted state, that the land outside the Bounds seemed little different from the Shire itself. There was no boundary marker inside the confines of the bog. He knew they’d crossed over, when the bog ended, if only because on the map it was so; the bog extended into the Shire, and some way beyond the Bounds. One would half-expect to see an inked line, running along the ground, but of course there was none in truth. The Bounds were indicated, instead, by small stone markers at intervals along the border.

At last he came to the Road leading into the South Farthing from Sarn, and he turned northward, plodding along stubbornly through the darkness. He’d not stop until he was safe on hobbit soil. What sort of Men might be skulking about in the darkness, here outside the borders?

He thought once he saw lurking shadows, but Wren took no alarm, and so he shrugged and trudged on, and not long after he saw the stone on the verge marking the Bounds.

He hadn’t known it, but the shadows were Kingsmen, their duty to patrol the borderland. They had no reason to stop a hobbit leading three ponies... though of course he was duly noted in the report later sent to the King, a minor item easy to skim over in the reading and dismiss, only to be brought to mind now, as Elessar read the hobbit’s heart and mind.

There was a stir at the door, and Pippin murmured, ‘Strider?’

Surfacing as a swimmer from deep water, Elessar shook his head and half-raised the hand that was not resting on Tolly’s forehead. ‘A moment,’ he said. As he dove once again, he heard Pippin order the teakettle hung over the fire in the little bedroom hearth…

Tolly slept that night in a haystack, burrowing deep against the chill, having hobbled the ponies and loosed them in the nearby field, and he was up before the dawning, summoning Wren with a low whistle. He wondered if the woodcutter’s sons had yet reached Sarn. Once Wren was saddled it was quick work to gather the other two ponies, and soon he was on his way, his stomach grumbling. He breakfasted a few miles northward, and paid the innkeeper to wrap up food for travelling, and after that he made good time to Whitwell, and then he rode through the Green Hills to come once more to Tuckborough and the Great Smials.

It was a very long day’s journey, and he might’ve made it two days, but that home-longing was upon him and he was eager to embrace his wife once more. Wren was agreeable--they were travelling in the proper direction to bring him to his stables, after all, and the ground was solid under them. In the middle night they came at last to the Smials.

Tolly saw first to the comfort of the ponies, grooming them himself, with especial care for gallant little Wren, who’d earned a thorough rubdown as he greedily gulped his oats. It was not far from dawn when Tolly stumbled across the torch-lit yard to the Great Smials. There was already a smell of baking in the air, and the dairymaids were emerging from one of the lesser doors, on their way to the early milking.

He contemplated a bath, but he’d have to rouse someone, and then wait for the water to heat, more than likely, for while bath water was usually ready at six of the clock, for any gentlehobbit who wished to bathe at the start of the day, the fires under the great coppers would have been lit only recently and their contents would require some time to grow hot. There'd be no convenient hot water in the wee hours for a weary traveller's arrival. No, it was baths in the morning for the gentlehobbits, and baths in the evening for the rest. The servants and workers were more practical, in Tolly’s opinion, bathing at the end of the workday when one truly appreciated water hot.

He settled for stripping his clothes off in the bedroom, a quick cold bath employing sponge, ewer and basin, after which he slipped into the bed without wakening his slumbering Meadowsweet. She was surpised, on wakening an hour or two later, to find him there. ‘Tolly!’

‘My love?’ he bleared, blinking at her and then at the clock. He threw back the bedcovers with a groan.

‘What time did you get in?’ she said. ‘Were there really ruffians? How many...?’

‘There were no ruffians,’ he said. ‘It was a false report.’

‘I’m that glad to hear it,’ Meadowsweet said, ‘but to keep you out, looking for a trail all this time, or following a false trail... You must be exhausted! Go on back to sleep, my love, and I’ll...’

Tolly smiled at this expression of feminine concern. Really, his wife treated him as if he might melt in the morning dew. He felt remarkably well, considering the circumstances. The woodcutter's sons were well beyond the Bounds by now, and the need for worry was diminishing with every passing moment, with every step they put between themselves and the Shire. ‘I am well, my love, and the Thain will be expecting my report, first thing...’ He saw with alarm that she bent to gather his piled clothing, remembering too late the silver cup. ‘Please, dear, don’t bother yourself... I’ll take care of that...!’

It took a fair amount of protest and at that he had to feign an alarmed look at the clock, causing Meadowsweet to yelp and dash to her duties, but at last he was left alone with his discarded clothing. He secreted the cup, wrapping it up in an old cloth and burying it in the deepest corner of the linen press, safe until he could figure out what to do with it. To polish it and put it on the mantel might bring questions, even speculation.

He put on his spare clothing and carried the bundle of dirty, sweat-crusted, woodsmoke-smelling clothing out to the parlour, where Rusty was polishing the andirons. ‘Laundry, Rus,’ he said.

‘Aye, sirrah,’ the hobbitservant said, straightening with a jaunty salute. ‘Right away!’ He nodded toward the table. ‘Children have et already, and left you a crust or two.’

‘My thanks,’ Tolly said, sitting himself down to more than a crust, or even two. He ate rapidly, for he thought he’d bypass the usual breakfast in the Second Parlour with the rest of the hobbits of escort. Fewer questions to consider, to have to answer or avoid, especially his brother Hilly’s. He needed to gather his thoughts, as best he could, for the Thain would be expecting him first thing. And it was already first thing, and growing later by the minute.

Despite the possibility of problems for himself, Tolly felt like whistling as he made his way to the Thain’s study. Ted and his younger brother were likely in Sarn at this moment, making plans to set out for Bree, and no one the wiser.

He knocked and entered the Thain’s study, standing at attention once he was inside and the door had closed behind him.

‘Ah, Tolly,’ Pippin said, looking up from the paper he was already perusing. ‘Back at last?’

‘Aye, Sir,’ Tolly said.

‘Ruffians give you any trouble?’ Reginard said, pouring out another cup of tea. He nodded to Tolly, and the head of escort obediently moved forward to take up the cup, though he didn’t sip at it, merely held it somewhat awkwardly in his hand as he tried to figure out what to say.

‘They weren’t ruffians,’ he blurted, and winced. Perhaps not the best beginning.

‘Not ruffians,’ Pippin said, fixing him with a piercing look. ‘Go on, drink that before it cools.’

Tolly started to sip, and then put the cup down again. He drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. ‘I expect you’ll be putting me on water rations,’ he said.

Regi exclaimed in surprise, but the Thain’s eyes narrowed; Pippin said nothing, but continued to bore through his head of escort with his gaze.

‘I--I’ Tolly said, unnerved by that regard.

‘Water rations?’ Regi said, raising an eyebrow.

Tolly dropped his eyes. ‘I let them go,’ he said.

Pippin half-rose from his chair. ‘You--’ he said, incredulous.

‘You let ruffians go?’ Regi said.

Tolly looked up to meet his eye, his jaw set. ‘They weren’t ruffians,’ he insisted.

‘I want to hear your report,’ Pippin said, sitting back down, taking up his tea, and draining the cup. When Tolly hesitated, he added, ‘Now would be a good time.’

Tolly drew another deep breath and launched into the narrative, though of course he did not mention the jewel or the silver cup, not in specific, anyhow. ‘They used to live in the Shire,’ he said, ‘and came only to reclaim their own, what they’d buried to hide from Lotho’s ruffians, or Sharkey’s, and they were hounded out of the Shire with just the clothes they were wearing, and no time to dig...’

‘Used to live in the Shire?’ Pippin said, puzzled, but surprisingly it was Regi, that hobbit of little imagination, who put the pieces together.

‘The woodman and his brother?’ he said. ‘The ones Paladin evicted?’

Tolly nodded, and if he could have, he’d’ve crossed his fingers behind his back. It wasn’t exactly a lie, after all. Ted was a woodman, and Tod was his brother. However, if the Thain were to send word to the Rangers, and these went looking for Barad and Beriad, if they found them at all they’d find them cold in the grave.

Pippin steepled his fingers, tapping forefingers together as he thought about this. At last he said, ‘And you let them go.’

‘Aye,’ Tolly said. Water rations for sure, he was certain. It was a good thing he’d eaten a hearty breakfast... likely to be his last for several days.

‘Did they pay you?’ Regi wanted to know. ‘Did they offer you some sort of reward, to help them?’

Tolly hesitated just for a moment, thinking of the silver cup, but it was no bribe nor reward; they’d pressed it upon him after he’d brought them to safety. ‘Nay,’ he said firmly. ‘Nor would I have taken any, were they truly ruffians.’

Pippin considered him for a long moment before nodding slowly. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘And you’d do the same, if you had it to do all over again?’

Tolly and Regi stared at him in astonishment, but then Tolly said staunchly, ‘Aye. That I would.’

‘Well,’ Pippin said, while Regi stared holes in the head of escort. Water rations, he was sure, and a heavy fine that he couldn’t afford, already being in debt. He supposed he’d have to work it off, give up a part of his pay and tell Meadowsweet they’d have to live more carefully than they were already.

And then the Thain said something that completely astounded him. ‘I’m glad that your honesty remains untarnished, at the least.’

Tolly thought of the tarnished cup, and wondered how Pippin would know... ‘Sir?’ he said carefully.

With a stern finger, Pippin tapped the paper he’d laid down upon the desk. ‘I have a report here,’ he said. ‘A hobbit meeting your description and two ruffians were seen, conferring around a campfire in the Woody End, on good terms with one another and up to no good, the hunter thought, and he sent to the Smials for a muster, but by the time the muster arrived they’d taken their leave, and could not be tracked through the darkness.’

It hit him like a fist in the stomach. That rustling in the bushes! They’d been seen!

Pippin had been watching him closely, and now he nodded again. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Had you tried to tell me some tale about taking the ruffians you’d caught to the Bounds, tied hand and foot, and turning them over to the Rangers, I’d’ve sacked you at the very least, and if I’d found enough cause, you’d be banished from the Shire yourself for conspiring with ruffians.’

Tolly’s mouth opened, but he had no words to say.

Pippin wasn’t going to give him opportunity to say anything, anyhow. ‘Go,’ he said abruptly. ‘You’re dismissed.’

Sacked? But no, he’d misunderstood, as he realised with the Thain's next words.

‘Take the rest of the day, to think over what you’ve been told,’ Pippin continued, fixing him with a steely glance. ‘And don’t let me catch you flinging your orders to the wind again! It will not go so well with you the next time.’

‘N-no, Sir,’ Tolly stammered, and somehow he managed to make his way from the study.

One thing he knew for certain. No one would ever believe he’d let the Men go because they were old friends. Such an admission would only bring suspicion down on his head, and the Thain was already clearly thinking ill of his head of escort’s judgment. No, let it stand that he’d found them to be in the Shire on what he considered legitimate business, retrieving that which had not been gathered, as by the ruffians of the Troubles, but had been theirs to begin with.

And the silver cup must stay hidden.