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The Farmer's Son  by Lindelea

Chapter 8. Of Dreams and Wakenings

The morning went as mornings usually do, a little more aggravating than usual, perhaps. After shaping the breadrolls for second breakfast and setting them to bake, Eglantine went back to the bedroom to wash and properly dress, and a button came off in her hand as she was dressing, and so she must stop and sew it on again, quick, for it wouldn't do to slouch about half-uncovered.

Then she burnt her hand, and rather badly, too, while taking the breadrolls out of the oven; the pan slipped in the grip of the folded towel she was using as a potholder and, sleepy as she was, she unthinkingly grabbed to save it with her other hand, fumbling the pan in the process, and the damage was done. Smoking-hot bread scattered over the floor, blisters rose on her hand and fingers though she had the presence of mind to plunge the burned flesh quickly into the bucket of water waiting by the fire.

'Mum!' Pimpernel yelped in her dismay. 'Your hand!'

'Yes,' Eglantine said, maintaining as even a tone as she could manage, though she had to say it through her teeth in order to manage it. 'My hand... what of it?'

Of a wonder it was Pervinca, usually half in a dream, who was first at her mother's side with help at hand. 'Honey,' she said succinctly, and the honey pot was in one hand, and a cloth in the other, for she'd been washing up and drying the baking things whilst Pimpernel swept the floor, getting ready to scrub the stones. 'Here, Mum, soak a few moments longer—Nell! Bring that chair close... Here, Mum, sit yourself.'

And without quite knowing how it came about, Eglantine found herself in the comfortable armed chair that usually stood at the head of the table, where Paladin reigned at mealtime. Pimpernel knelt before her, steadying the bucket, while Pervinca bent over her, fanning her hot face.

'Vinca, I...' she began, but her daughters both shushed her. Sensitive Nell's eyes were filled with tears, but Vinca was matter-of-fact, and it came to Eglantine that she was counting the seconds under her breath, before at last she nodded to mother and sister.

'There now,' she said. 'The cold water's done its work. Come, Mum, let's see...'

Eglantine sucked in air as she withdrew her hand from the water, but Pervinca was already draping the cloth loosely in place, sopping up the water as gently as might be, and then she delicately lifted the cloth and handed it to her sister. In the next moment she'd removed the honey pot's paper cover and was generously smearing the stuff over the burns. 'Honey,' Eglantine said, unnecessarily. 'Sweet and sticky, doesn't stick/Heals burns double quick.'

'Yes, Mum,' Pervinca said in a brisk tone, and she tied a fresh cloth loosely about Eglantine's hand. 'Now you sit here and we'll get second breakfast on, see if we don't.'

'I'm well,' Eglantine protested. 'It was just the surprise of it. I'm well enough, now...' but her daughters forestalled her attempt to rise from the chair.

'Of course you're well,' Pervinca agreed, and then her tone sharpened. 'Nell! Don't just stand about like a stone! We've quick breads to be stirring up, if there's to be anything to put butter and jam on at the breakfast table!'

While Eglantine watched, bemused, Pervinca bustled about, doing her work as well as her sister's, while Pimpernel quickly sifted flour, salt, and saleratus into a bowl, worked in fat, beat together honey and  soured milk from the pantry and mixed it all gently to a stiff dough, then dropped dollops on baking sheets and set these to bake.

Fine smells filled the air as the hired hobbits began to file in, stopping in surprise to see the Mistress sitting by the stove, just sitting, and in the Master's chair at that.

'Come along, sit yoursel's down,' Pervinca carolled, while Pimpernel hurried about in unaccustomed silence. 'Food's hot, but it won't stay that way!'

And then Paladin was there. Eglantine, watching her daughters, hadn't seen him come in, but suddenly he was bending over her, exclaiming over her bound-up hand.

'I'm well, really I am,' she said, with a little sharpness, 'it was naught but a mishap...'

'Blistering burns,' Pervinca corrected, 'but I think we got the honey on in good time. Mum, you ought to rest that hand for the remainder of the day...'

'But it's barely second breakfast!' Eglantine protested.

Paladin took his daughter's part. 'For the rest of the day,' he agreed, laying a hand on Eglantine's shoulder to keep her in the chair. 'You sit there, and Vinca will cut up your ham, and butter your bread and bring your plate to you...' He would hear no argument, but settled himself at the end of one of the benches with the hired hobbits, where all proceeded to eat heartily, to fuel themselves for the demands of the day.

Eglantine suffered Pervinca to serve her, while Pimpernel made sure the table was well served, refreshing teapots and platters and doing the work of three.

At last the hired hobbits were filing out again, thanking the lasses for the meal. Paladin told them to hitch up the waggons and gather their scythes and hayforks—some would be cutting in one field, while another crew was piling the cut-and-sun-dried hay in another—and he'd be along shortly.

Pimpernel was clearing away, and Pervinca had already begun the preparations for washing up, when Paladin leaned over his wife once more. 'Dearest,' he said, taking up her injured hand with as much care as he might hold a butterfly. 'Perhaps the healer...'

'Waste good coin on the healer? For a trifle?' Eglantine said.

'We could always give her chickens or taters instead,' Paladin said, but his fingers were undoing the loose knot as he spoke. He spread the corners of the cloth and moved her hand to get a better view of the burns, and she couldn't help the sharp breath that forced itself upon her.

'It doesn't look so bad as I feared,' Paladin said slowly, with a nod. 'A trifle, as you said... but you'll rest, the remainder of the day, and let your daughters serve you...' He looked up. 'Hear me, daughters?'

Pervinca made an affirmative noise, while Pimpernel merely nodded before looking back to the plates she was stacking.

Eglantine would have countered him, but for the mild threat in his next words. '...and if you rest, we might not need the healer after all...'

She shook her head in disgust. 'You cozen me altogether too much,' she said.

'What's a family for, I ask you?' Paladin said. He laid a gentle kiss upon an unburned knuckle and bound up her hand once more. 'Now, my love, you may sit here, or in a more comfortable chair if you wish...'

Eglantine did not wish, and her expression made it plain.

'...and watch your daughters about their business, and see how well they are about managing smial and home...' He smiled. 'After all, it won't be long before they've families of their own!'

Pimpernel sniffed at this, and Eglantine looked to her middle daughter in surprise. She didn't remember any quarrel between Nell and Ferdi this morning, before Ferdi had taken himself off to the marshes with Tolly. As a matter of fact, Ferdi had sworn with his hand over his heart that he'd be back well before teatime. So why such a worried look?

In any event, she was keeping Paladin from the haying, and that would not do. Every fine day in September was a gift, and not one to squander.

'Go on with you!' she said, and with a chuckle and a kiss for the top of her head, Paladin complied. She remained silent, lest Paladin should turn back for a last word and hear that his wife or daughters were troubled, and perhaps delay his departure to the fields even more.

When she heard the waggons starting out of the yard, she spoke at last. 'Nell?' she said. The washing up was proceeding nicely, with Pervinca washing and Pimpernel drying and putting away, still uncharacteristically sombre.

'Nell?'

'Yes'm?' Nell said, half-turning, and Eglantine could tell that the bright tone was forced.

'Lasses, stop a moment and come to me,' Eglantine said, and both laid down what they were doing to obey. Pervinca wiped her hands on her apron as she crossed the kitchen.

'What is it, Mum? Is your hand paining you? Would you like another cup of tea? Would you like to lie yourself down?'

Eglantine put up her good hand to stem the tide of questions, almost laughing in her surprise. 'What's got into you, lass? You're as chattery as a magpie this morning!'

Pervinca's mouth opened for a moment but no words came out, and then she gave a little laugh. 'Why, Mum, I suppose I am,' she said, and went on to say, 'It's relief, I dare say.'

'Relief!' Eglantine said in surprise.

'O yes, relief!' Pervinca said. She heaved a sigh. 'I was that worried, Mum, I was... and then for it to turn out so much the less...'

'So much the less?' Eglantine prompted, for Pervinca was making even less sense than Pippin at his most whimsical.

Pervinca dropped her eyes and shuffled her feet, suddenly reluctant to speak.

'So much the less?' Eglantine repeated, taking her daughter's chin in her good hand. 'So much the less... what?'

A slow flush infused Pervinca's face. 'I...' she said very low, and stopped.

'Go on, child,' Eglantine said. 'I don't bite, you know, or if I do bite, I don't draw blood.'

Even this small jest did not bring smiles to her daughters' faces.

'I...' Pervinca said, and swallowed hard, and then in a rush, as if she had to say it quickly or not say it at all, she added, 'I dreamed.'

Eglantine closed her eyes in momentary dismay, but then she forced a calm and smiling face. 'Yes, lovie?' she said lightly. 'You... dreamed?'

'It was terrible,' Pervinca whispered, her eyes cast down, and then she raised them to look into Eglantine's eyes, and Eglantine caught her breath at seeing the familiar haunted look.

And in her heart she grieved for this child, her youngest daughter and youngest but one. She'd hoped the gift had passed them all by, her sweet lasses and her stalwart lad, the dreams that Paladin knew but almost never acknowledged. But somehow she maintained a smile. 'And what did you dream, my love? What was so terrible? Tell me, and it will lose some of its power in the telling, I promise.'

Pimpernel was holding her breath, Eglantine saw, and the tears that had shone in her eyes since the mishap were now threatening to spill over, did in fact spill over, tracing down her cheeks, though she made no sound.

'And did you dream?' Eglantine asked Pimpernel.

Pimpernel shook her head slowly, but then she whispered. 'No... but I feared.'

'Feared?' Eglantine said, her heart quickening.

'In the night, I woke,' Pimpernel said. She lifted a hand to rub at Pervinca's back, and added, 'Vinca was whimpering, and I went to calm her, and she cried out, and I hugged her... she was trembling, and I felt so frightened!' Her voice was almost lost in wondering as she continued, 'I don't know why I felt so frightened, but I felt...' Her voice trailed off as she saw her mother nodding.

And then Eglantine turned to Pervinca. 'What did you dream?' she said again.

Pervinca shook her head. 'I don't remember exactly,' she said after a long hesitation. 'But it was dreadful; something dreadful was going to happen...' She stopped to take several breaths, but then surprisingly she smiled. 'But now I'm not afraid any more.'

'You're not afraid,' Eglantine said slowly, trying to understand.

'All the morning,' Pervinca said, still uncharacteristically chattering. 'All the morning I've been worrying, for it seemed to me the dream must be an omen of some sort, some dreadful thing must happen... and then it did! Or it felt as if it did...' She pulled up short, blinking in confusion. 'But it wasn't as dreadful, was it?'

'Vinca?' Eglantine said.

Pervinca fell to her knees beside her mother, grasping Eglantine's arm. 'Before you burned yourself,' she said, and caught her breath a moment, her eyes widening. At last she plunged on. 'The feeling in the dream came again, the feeling that something dreadful was happening...'

Pimpernel was nodding, and more, she'd clasped her hands together tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

'You, too?' Eglantine said.

'Dreadful,' Pimpernel whispered in agreement.

'And then the pan clattered and the breadrolls scattered on the floor and you cried out,' Pervinca rushed on, 'and I thought... I thought... but it was hardly anything at all, really, compared to the fear I felt but a moment earlier... and we got your hand into the cold water, and then covered in honey and the healing started, and the breadrolls picked up and in a basket to feed to the hens and pigeons, and breakfast on the table, and it's not at all what I feared it would be...'

'Just a trifle,' Eglantine murmured. 'Just a trifle.'

Pervinca smiled and said, almost gaily, 'Well then, we know that dreams have no power to harm us! I don't know why that one should have haunted me so, this morning. Come, Mum, let me pour you another mug of tea, and you may sip and watch us do the washing up and correct us to your heart's content...'

'Naught to correct; you lasses are doing beautifully,' Eglantine said. 'Finish your washing up, and we will get to the making of elevenses...'

'We will get to the making of elevenses,' Pimpernel corrected, a little colour returning to her cheeks. 'After all, we'll have Ferdi and Tolly to feed, and likely they'll be ravenous after their long tramp to the marshes.'

'Ride, rather,' Pervinca said as she rose to her feet and moved to pour out a mug of tea from the cosied pot. 'But no matter, they'll be ravenous any road. I've never known those two not to be... especially when in each other's company.'

'It's as if they're in a race to see who's hungriest,' Pimpernel agreed, pecking a quick kiss on her mother's cheek. 'But all the cookery will be worth the trouble, if they bring back a quantity of fat ducks.'

'Or even a goose, or two,' Pervinca said, bringing the mug to Eglantine, fixed just as she liked it. 'Mmm,' she said. 'I can almost smell them roasting, can you?'

The rest of the morning went merrily, without mishap, but elevenses came and went with no sign of Tolly, nor Ferdi.

'The hunting must be better than they expected,' Paladin said at the noontide meal.

Eglantine had insisted that his chair be returned to him, but she sat tight in her place at table, for her daughters insisted on doing all the serving while she sat in peace, eating her fill and then sipping tea as if she were at leisure and not a busy farm wife. She thought she'd lie herself down for a nap in the afternoon, for she found all this resting to be quite wearying.

The hired hobbits were animated, talking busily about the hunting. Was it so fine that Tolly and Ferdi couldn't pull themselves away? Or was it so poor that they'd stayed in the marshes, not wanting to return empty-handed?

'The sun is warm; perhaps they fell asleep while watching,' Eglantine said, for Pimpernel was beginning to worry again, she thought. There had been some special plan for tea, a picnic, and if Ferdi'd had poor luck in the hunt and was stubbornly tramping the marshes in search of birds, well...

Nell was right to worry, as it turned out. By teatime, the hunters had not yet returned.

Haying done for the day, some of the hired hobbits took up their bows to seek after the birds that would be settling to the marshes with the sun's setting.

'And when you see Ferdi, you tell him...!' Pimpernel called after them.

Laughing, one of them turned and waved. 'I know what to tell him!' he said.

'You do that, Jay!' Pimpernel returned, and went back to the business of putting the eventide meal on the table for those who were staying.

But when the hired hobbits returned later, walking by the light of lanterns, and with fat birds slung over their backs, they were surprised by the news that Ferdi and Tolly still had not made their way back to the farm. Nor had they seen any sign of the delinquents in the marshes.

'Not back?' Jay said. 'But surely...'

'Likely Tolly talked Ferdi into going to Tuckborough first,' his brother Martin said. 'And if they stopped at the Spotted Duck...'

There was some head-nodding at this, and a few low whistles, for a hobbit who was promised to marry, now, he ought not to take his true love for granted. Not until after the wedding, at least.

'I'll just take one of the ponies and ride to the Duck,' Jay said, 'by your leave, o' course, Master Paladin, and bring Ferdi back. You know how it goes. If he got to telling stories, and Tolly to tossing darts, well...'

Jay returned somewhat sooner than expected, riding a lathered pony, his expression grim. Many of the hired hobbits had taken themselves off to bed by this time, for on the farm morning comes early, but Paladin had waited up, and at the sound of quick hoofbeats he jumped up from his chair and was out in the yard to grab the reins as Jay pulled up the dancing pony.

'They weren't in Tuckborough, not at Tolly's, and not at the Duck,' the messenger panted. 'Not seen at all today, in fact, and Tolly's dad is getting up a search party... He'd thought Tolly here at Whittacres, you see, and so when I came in search...'

There was a muffled noise from the doorway of the smial, and Paladin turned to see Pimpernel, dressed in her nightdress with a shawl over her shoulders, her hand pressed to her mouth. In the next moment, she crumpled to the threshhold.

Paladin ran to his swooning daughter. 'Nell?' he said anxiously, and bent to lift her in his arms. He turned to Jay. 'Rouse all the hobbits!' he said. 'There's some trouble afoot, I fear. We'll send out searchers of our own, over the hills, and call the neighbours to join us. Tell them to go out in twos and threes. I don't want anyone going off alone...'

'What is it?' Eglantine said, cradling her injured hand from an injudicious move as she entered the kitchen. Her face twisted in momentary discomfort, and then she mastered herself and crossed quickly to Paladin. 'Nell? What's happened?'

'She swooned,' Paladin said. 'Ferdi and Tolly didn't come back to the farm, and they didn't come back to Tuckborough.'

'Where are they?' Eglantine said in alarm, and mentally kicked herself for stupidity immediately after.

'Well now,' Paladin said. 'If I knew that, I wouldn't be sending out searchers, now, would I?'

'I'm sorry, Dinny, I wasn't thinking,' Eglantine said, adding, 'Nell? Do you hear me?' as she smoothed the tousled hair back from Pimpernel's forehead. She was reassured to see Pimpernel begin to blink and stir.

'Let us lay her upon her bed,' Paladin said. 'A cool cloth for her head, and...'

'Tea for the searchers, and sandwiches they may carry with them, to begin with,' Eglantine said. 'I'll waken Pervinca...'

'No need,' Pervinca said from the doorway to the hall. Her eyes were haunted, and she went on, stumbling a little over the words, 'It really was something dreadful after all...'





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