Chapter 4 - I Knew I Shouldn't Have Let Him Drive!

When the horn was sounded to signify the start of the race, at 7 o'clock sharp, the engine's fire was still smouldering and not nearly hot enough to heat the water. At one stage Pippin, in desperation, had piled more and more coal into the firebox with the result that the embryonic flames had been extinguished completely and they had to start from scratch.

Merry, glancing up from his cramped position in front of the furnace as he attempted to blow some life into the obstinate coals, was relieved to see that Sam and Frodo were not making much progress. They both seemed to be picking and stabbing at the field, rather than cutting the grass, although what they were up to was a mystery to him.

No one else was paying much attention to the gardener and his son as all the crowd were more interested in the antics of the Thain and the Master with their grand machine.

"Is it going to do anything?" Enquired a hobbit from Frogmorton. He was quite anxious for something exciting to happen as he and his family had spent the previous day walking the twenty odd miles just to see the bizarre apparatus that screeched like a banshee and drove along without any horses.

"Oh it'll go all right." Farmer Cotton was sitting in a large armchair that his sons had carried to the field for him. He was getting a little too long in the tooth and short in breath to stand for long. "It'll most likely go up like a firework before they're finished!"

Eventually the great engine was coaxed into life, amidst pillars of smoke, chuffing pumps of steam and cheers (and a few jeers) from the crowd.

"Ready Merry?" Pippin shouted from his perch at the wheel. "Let's get this grass mown." He threw the gear into place and the beast began to trundle forwards.

"Wait! Wait, Pip!" Merry shouted back, his voice drowned out by the sudden screech of the whistle as Pippin decided to delight the young lads who were making pulling signs to encourage him to scare some of the older hobbits.

"Wait!" Merry yelled again, running in front of the engine, to gasps from the onlookers. He waved his arms frantically, "I have to let the blades down. Stop!"

"Whoops!" Pippin, in his enthusiasm to get started, had forgotten the main object of the race. With effort, he disengaged the gear again, almost running Merry over in the process.

Meanwhile, Sam and Frodo-lad had finished their poking and scratching at the grass but, to Merry's relief and surprise, were still not wielding the scythes, but simply clipping at the edges with shears.

"Come on – heave!" Merry put all his weight on the lever and tried again. "Pippin! Are you even pulling?" Merry complained. "Put some effort into it!"

"I'm sitting on it," Pippin pointed out. "I'll jump on it if you think that will help!"

"Ha! The Thain's not fat enough yet!" A wit from the crowd observed. "You need to eat more pudding Cap'n Took!"

"You should fetch your brother-in-law Master Merry!" Another pointed out, "Good old Fatty'd shift it in no time!"

"You're pulling it the wrong way!" Matt Hammerstone, the Smith pointed out.

"Er um, Pip" Merry stopped pulling and stepped back to look at the machine, "I think Matt might be right."

"Wait a minute." Pippin clambered back onto the drivers perch and retrieved the great manual. He leafed through it frantically until Merry eventually took it from his hands and started to do the same. Eventually after some more thumbing, arguing and investigation, they abandoned the manual and tried hauling the lever the other way.

To great cheers and laughter from the crowd, the two embarrassed hobbits hauled the lever up and the mowing blades were lowered.

Pippin clambered back up to his position, sounded the whistle again and finally set off.

As the mighty machine lurched to a start Pippin engaged the gear for the blades and they began to spin at an alarming rate, churning up clods of earth and stones, although not too much grass.

Another stop and more tutting and muttering from the Master and the Thain as they tried to work out what was going wrong. Helpful advice was delivered in abundance.

"It's too big for the job!" Farmer Cotton decided.

"Hitch a team of horses to it!" suggested Ralf Bolger.

"Bury it in the sandpit, along with the other villains!" shouted Jolly Cotton. A suggestion that was greeted with gales of mirth and several 'hoorays'.

"You know Merry," Pippin shouted over the roar of the engine, "I think we might have overdone it with the whole blade lowering!"

Once again the engine was stopped and, after considerable differences of opinion, consultation with the incomprehensible manual and trial and error, they managed to adjust the cutting rotors to an appropriate level. The machine finally started about its business, mowing a great swathe of grass from one side of the field to the other in less than a minute.

There were finally gasps of awe from the crowd and several hobbits who, becoming bored had started to wander about the field, fled in fright back to the safety of the far side of the hedge.

The fleeing hobbits were undoubtedly shrewd in their flight as the Thain's tendency to wave to the crowd and sound the whistle, whilst steering with one hand did little to improve the steam engine's manoeuvrability.

On his second sweep, reaching the far end of the field at a breakneck speed of 15 miles an hour, Pippin suddenly realised that the hedge was looming and he should have started turning at least 15 feet earlier. To avert disaster, he jammed on the brake and wrenched the gear out of engagement, to the screams of tortured metal and several hobbit wives and lasses.

He only took a small part of the hedge down, which fortunately (or through the general good sense of the onlookers) no one was standing behind.

"I knew I shouldn't have let him drive," Merry muttered to Matt the Smith. "He gets far too excited." And he hurried up the field to attempt to curb his cousin's enthusiasm and any further accidents.

TBC