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The Farmer's Son  by Lindelea


Chapter 7. Going about Their Business

24 September

Eglantine slept little and poorly that night, awakening with an aching head. And yet, the family and hired hobbits must have their early breakfast, before they went out into the foggy morning – piping hot tea at the very least, to go with their bread and butter. And then while they were tending the animals, checking the harness for fieldwork, and seeing to the milking, well, someone would have to be in the kitchen, now, wouldn't they, preparing a hot and hearty second breakfast.

It mattered little that Pimpernel and Pervinca were fully capable of carrying out the task themselves. Eglantine had never been one to shirk her duties. Indeed, it had been difficult for Paladin to keep his wife abed, those first days after each birth, when he'd've gladly cozened his wife. Why, for a Banks, she was as bad as a Took in that respect!

She arose from the bed and drew her work dress over her nightgown, shivering a little. Perhaps she'd taken a chill in the night, cold and clear as it had been. Wisps of mist curled outside the windows, an eerie sight. Paladin was already gone, only a dent on the pillow where he'd been. Eglantine fluffed the pillow thoughtfully. At least he'd been to bed—but had he slept?

She wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and hurried to the kitchen, where the lamp on the table already shone brightly. She stirred up the fire and added wood from the dwindling pile, catching her breath and blinking away a sudden tear that surprised her with its advent. Now why should she be sloppy and sentimental over a few split sticks? Pippin would be back in a week, two at the most, and return to replenishing the cooking wood. In the meantime, she had better remind Ferdi to take up the task.

She filled up the teakettle. As she put the kettle on, there was a tap at the door.

Remembering her fear in the night, she fought down a shiver. Don't be a ninny! It wouldn't be Paladin, of course, coming in from the byre, for he'd hardly knock at his own door. It might be a near neighbour, wanting some sort of help. Not lambing, nor calving, she thought, hurrying to the door. Wrong time of year for that.

Throwing it open, she beheld a beaming hobbit, Tolibold Took, son of a healer in Tuckborough and fast friend with Ferdibrand. He threw his arms wide and burst into song.

'Tis a southerly wind and a cloudy sky;
Proclaim it a hunty morning!

Before the sun rises we nimbly fly,
Dull sleep and a downy bed scorning...

Mist swirled behind him in the pre-dawn darkness, and his hair was bedewed with the damp, but his smile shone more brightly than the sun might. Eglantine found an answering smile tugging at her lips.

'Tolly!' she cried. 'What are you doing on the doorstep, this time of day?'

Pulling his face into sombre lines (though his eyes still flashed mischief), the visitor allowed his shoulders to droop. 'It's Mum,' he said.

'Rosebriar sent you?' Eglantine said, befuddled. 'At this hour?'

'She's thrown me out,' Tolly said with a sigh. 'Dad came back from the South Farthing last night with Uncle, for he thought he'd go himself to make sure of the quality of the medicinal wine this year, last year's not being quite up to standard, and said as the wild ducks are fat, and thick on the marshes...'

Eglantine's mouth had opened in astonishment at thrown me out, her eyes blinking as her mouth worked soundlessly, but as Tolly proceeded in his tale of woe she closed her mouth and put her hands on her hips.

'Such a fright as you gave me,' she said, breaking into the flow of words, pulling him inside and shutting the door on the chilling mist. 'And here I thought you'd been up to mischief again, a grown hobbit as yourself...'

Tolly looked at her mournfully. 'Mischief?' he said. 'Why, Missus, I gave up mischief years ago, it was, when Pip showed me he'd ever so much better the knack of it...'

His mournful expression vanished as he looked beyond Eglantine. 'Ferdi!' he cried. 'Here's the hobbit I was looking for! Or hunting, you might better say!'

'Hunting!' Ferdi responded in kind, entering the kitchen from the hall. 'Your da gave you the day?'

'No, he's still sleeping,' Tolly said. 'It's a long way home from the South Farthing, and not much to show for it, for the Bracegirdles have sold the bulk of their crops away south and saved none for the Tooks this year...'

'Away south!' Eglantine said, her mind churning. This was news for the Thain! 'Surely your mum and dad didn't send you here at this hour just to bear those tidings! Bad news will keep, at least until after breakfast!'

'No, it's worse,' Tolly said, looking back to Eglantine. 'Mum's sent me out to bag a brace of fat ducks. And don't come back until you have them in hand!' he raised his right hand in solemn gesture. 'Her exact words, I swear!'

'Well, now,' Eglantine said, fighting down a chuckle.

'Hard knocks, old lad,' Ferdi said with a shake of his head. 'Let off from gathering herbs, to tramp the marshes with your bow.'

'You don't know how I suffer,' Tolly said with a dramatic sigh. 'And the marshes such a walk, as it were!'

'Not any further than walking to Whittacers Farm, perhaps,' Eglantine said dryly.

'Ah,' Tolly said, inspired. 'But what's a hunt without hunting companions, I ask you? And Ferdi has ponies, perhaps one even to lend...!'

'And one to ride,' Ferdi said, crossing the kitchen to clap Tolly on the back. 'For surely hunting's better with two!'

'Ah, Ferdi, brilliant as always!' Tolly said, beaming once more. 'And before breakfast, too!'

'No doubt you'll take early breakfast with us,' Eglantine said.

'Why, cousin, that's very kind indeed!' Tolly said, turning his smile upon her. 'I must admit, Mum threw me out of the house with only a bite or two, and naught but half a pot of tea in me, and though I pled most tearfully with her she packed up only another swallow or so for my journey to the marshes.' Here he brandished a well-stuffed sack.

Eglantine shook her head and tched. 'Poor lad,' she said. 'Well, I've bread-and-butter aplenty, and I'll boil a few eggs to fortify you brave hunters...'

'And the farmers?' Paladin said, entering the kitchen and wiping his feet. 'It'll be another fine day for the haying when this mist burns off,' he said.

'Not so well for the hunting, then,' Ferdi said. 'Pack me up a sack like Tolly's, will you please, Aggie-mum? And we'll see if we can bag a brace or two of ducks for elevenses, whilst the mist is still on the marshes...'

'Aggie-mum?' Tolly said, seizing on the word, and then his eyes lit up and he pounded Ferdi on the back with a celebratory fist. 'Congratulations, you sly old fox! You've caught yourself the hen at last!'

'More of a vixen,' Pimpernel said, entering from where she'd paused in the doorway to listen. 'Hullo, Tolly, and be sure you bring my beloved back well and early, for he has an engagement on the meadow at teatime, with the rest of my family.'

'To be sure, sweetest Nell!' Tolly said, with a bow and a flourish. 'I would never want to bear the brunt of the vixen's wrath!'

Pimpernel paid him no heed, but immediately began slicing and buttering bread, wrapping this food as well as cold chops and a few small pork pies from the pantry shelf and stuffing the feast into a bag, along with new apples.

The kettle was boiling, and Eglantine managed to stop the two intrepid hunters long enough to get a hot cup of tea into them, and then Ferdi was throwing on his cloak and taking up his bow and bag of provisions, and the two of them were on their way out to saddle ponies and head out to the marshes.

Eglantine sat down to early breakfast with a whumph of exhaled breath. Tolly always took her that way, with his pent-up energy, and Tolly and Ferdi together in a room! Well, it was good to sit down and fortify herself with a cup of tea. There was the usual quiet breakfast talk at table, and Eglantine looked down the length of the table to study her husband. Had he slept at all?

At last the hired hobbits were filing out into the yard, and her daughters were already well started with washing up, and Eglantine could catch Paladin for a quiet word.

'Did you sleep?' she hissed in his ear, stopping him at the door, ostensibly to throw a muffler around his neck and tie it securely.

'I'm well,' he said, not quite answering the question. 'Honestly, Aggie, the way you fuss...' He started to pull away, but she stopped him.

'O and Tolly had some news for the Thain,' she said.

'And what was that?' Paladin said, '...besides that the ducks are thick on the marshes, enticing half my hobbits to take up their bows! They'll be working extra hard to get the hay in quick, now, and then let the ducks and the geese beware...'

Eglantine laughed. 'It'll be a harvest feast to talk about, this year!' she said, her mouth watering at the thought of fat ducks sizzling over the fire, and nut-and-apple dressing, and all the other accompaniments. She recalled herself to the business at hand, feeling more cheerful at the thought of the feasting soon to come. 'No, but you know that Trudigar Took went to the South Farthing, to buy this year's shipment of wine for the Great Smials...'

Tru had been an agent for Thain Ferumbras, travelling all over the Shire to buy wine, linen, grain, and other commodities for the kitchens and storehouses of the Tooks, and Paladin had kept him on when the Thainship passed to him. It was a good business, to use the accumulated wealth of the Took family to buy in large quantities, and then sell at the Tuckborough market at reasonable prices, even with a little extra added to cover Tru's services, and cartage, and to add to the Tooks' coffers against the need of a rainy day. Hobbits came from three farthings to shop at the market, and everyone benefited from the practice.

'Yes, and Haldibold went with him, for there was some question as to last year's quality,' Paladin said with a nod.

'Well, there is no wine to be had this year, for love or money,' Eglantine said, though who would spare love for the tight-fisted Bracegirdles, she didn't know.

At Paladin's exclamation of surprise and dismay, she hastened to explain.

'Sold away to the south!' he said, pursing his lips. 'What is there to the south, I'd like to know!' The question was mostly rhetorical; he knew as much as he wanted to know, and probably knew better than most hobbits, due to his long friendship with Bilbo Baggins. Many the time that hobbit had sat at their table and regaled them with half-believable tales of the Outside.

'Men, I imagine,' Eglantine said vaguely. 'Dwarves...? No, they'd be more north, as I recall, from what Bilbo used to tell...' Perhaps a mistake, to mention Bilbo, and so early in the morning, and with her husband already weary from a sleepless night, harder for him to shake off his cares, and the business of the day unlikely to wait.

Paladin nodded sadly, and then straightened his shoulders. 'The Tooks'll have to make do with barley beer and mead, I suppose,' he said with a sigh. 'And brandy from Buckland, though what the healers will do to fortify the blood over the winter without good, red, Southfarthing...' He shook his head. 'I don't like it.'

'Well...' Eglantine said.

'No,' Paladin insisted. 'I don't like it at all. I'm of half a mind to send Tru right back there, to buy up next year's crop before someone else does.'

'Next year's crop!' Eglantine said in astonishment. She knew her husband was forward-looking, but... to buy a crop that wouldn't set blossom for months, yet... To buy a crop that might suffer blight, or drought, or some other disaster. To buy on prospect, sight unseen!

Paladin started to hmph his way out of the kitchen, but remembered in time to turn, circle Eglantine with his arms, and lay a kiss on his wife's still-open mouth. Which, when you think of it, was quite a convenience. It was also a good thing the hired hobbits were already out in barn and byre, going about their business, and the daughters of the smial had finished the washing up and were out milking and egg gathering.

Thus Paladin had time and inclination for a thorough kiss, such as he and Eglantine enjoyed only when it was just the two of them together, and when they parted to go about the business of the morning they were both in a much better mood than when they'd sat down to early breakfast.

***

A/N:  Southerly wind and a cloudy sky... seems to be the title of a number of hunting prints, and also a traditional English folksong. I found the lyrics to a couple of versions here:

http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/familiar-songs/familiar-songs%20-%200308.htm

For those familiar with Tolly, you might not know that he was somewhat wild in his younger years, what with drinking, gambling, and jesting. Well, he was. Thanks to Jodancingtree for that insight, in Runaway.

Posted 2/17/2009





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