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The Farmer's Son  by Lindelea

Chapter 17. Getting Back to Normal

There was much work to be got through, all that had not been done in the first half of the day, between early milking and elevenses, when Eglantine had been sleeping, and of course with Pimpernel sitting at Ferdi’s bedside, well, that just threw more work on Pervinca’s shoulders. The youngest sister insisted that her mother should take all the lighter chores, to spare the healing burns, and that she would take on the heavier tasks.

And heavy tasks they were. The previous day, being the first day of the week, ought to have been washday, but what with Eglantine’s early morning mishap, and then the later emergency of the missing hunters, why, things had been thrown completely out of kilter!

‘Still,’ as Vinca insisted, rolling up her sleeves and tying her apron strings with a firm hand, ‘the washing must be done.’ It was testimony to her determination that she did everything needed herself, without grumbling or soliciting Nell’s help. Planning and routine made the task less heavy than it might have been; Nod and his brother Bud had filled the copper to the brim and laid the fire in readiness, as was their usual task after the Highday baths were finished for all the family and hired hobbits. They’d also scrubbed out and set the washtub ready, and filled the rinse tub beside it with fresh, cold water. All Vinca needed to do was spark the fire into life and scoop a generous double handful of soft soap into the washtub, and then while she waited for the water to come to a boil (and a good long wait it would be, and ‘twas no more use watching a boiler than any smaller pot), she could stir up the bread for the morrow’s baking, and set it to rise.

Eglantine insisted on doing her daughters’ chores of making up the beds, dusting, sweeping, polishing the lamps, trimming the wicks and renewing the lamp oil, replacing the burnt-down candles fresh for the eventide. She even wound the dwarf-made clock in the parlour, usually Paladin’s task, but that he’d neglected this morning – unlike himself, Eglantine mused, but then it was a habit of his upon arising, and he’d never yet been to bed.

All this, and added to it was bringing Haldi and Nell occasional cups of tea, and looking in on the recovering hobbits, who seemed likely to sleep the clock around, as if they hadn’t been sleeping hours already. At least Haldi had been able to waken Ferdi enough to eat a bowl of stew from the nooning, and Tolly had managed two bowls before sleep claimed him once more.

Teatime would be a simple meal, Eglantine rued. She checked the rising loaves under their covers; yes, Pervinca knew her business. A quick visit to the bath room showed the lass hard at work, stirring clothes in the steaming tub, her face red and perspiring (“glowing,” Eglantine corrected herself) with the heat and effort. ‘I'll help you peg them out,’ she raised her voice to say, and was rewarded with a quick glance and a nod, but a frown of effort rather than a smile. Washing was heavy work, and this day Vinca had neither sister nor mother to share the load. Eglantine shook her head as she returned to meal preparations. Perhaps they ought to hire a maid, or even two, to help?

In the midst of her busyness she smiled. A maid, or even two, and were they to marry into the family, so to speak, if one or another of the hired hobbits took an interest, well, then…

She tore stale bread into pieces and contrived a savoury bread pudding with onions, bacon, and cheese. Fresh picked apples would have to do for a sweet. She filled bowls with several varieties of apples, from mouth-puckering tartness to honey-sweet and some in between, and placed these at intervals on the long table to make an easy reach. On second thought she filled a bag with apples, as well, to send home to Tolly’s mum on the morrow. She hoped Rosebriar was not fretting too much, and that Hilly had been able to soothe her fears with a good report of Tolly’s wakening and evident improvement. The healer’s wife was not strong, unlikely to make even the short journey from Tuckborough to Whittacres, but she’d probably not rest well until her son was returned to her once more.

With the table set and ready and the pudding sending fine smells into the air, Eglantine went back to Pervinca, in time to take up one of several baskets of wash that had been rinsed, squeezed, and stood ready for the hanging.

‘I don’t see that we can manage the ironing today as well,’ Vinca said, hard at work stirring her last load in the still-warm-but-cooling water. ‘I've washed as quickly as I could manage,’ she sighed and said with a wry look, ‘work hasted is work wasted, aye,’ and Eglantine shook her head and lifted one hand in the polite equivalent of a shrug. What can one do? The well-running routine of the farm had been disrupted, for certain, but they’d soon have everything back as it should be, and barring no more emergencies, all would settle into routine once more. And why should there be any emergencies? The Shire was a quiet and pleasant place, “dull,” she’d heard Bilbo call it, “where nothing ever happens… well, hardly ever.” And that was just the way the Shirefolk preferred things to be.

If she wanted excitement, all she had to do was open a book of old tales. That is, if she had the time. Ah, Paladin was a fine storyteller in his own right, and perhaps he might spin a tale during the washing up, before everyone busied themselves with the late milking and evening chores. Yes, the days were full of the necessary tasks, and Eglantine felt no need to go off, as a mad Baggins might (or even a Took, her mind whispered), in search of adventure.

‘We’ll do the ironing on the morrow,’ she said, ‘and perhaps manage the mending at the same time – with Pip away, there isn’t as much mending as usual, anyhow. And with Ferdi so much better, and promised to get out of the bed in the morning, well, your sister ought to be able to help once more.’

‘That’s a mercy,’ Pervinca said, lifting a dark garment on her stick and slopping it into the rinse tub. ‘How ever are you going to manage when we’re all married and gone away?’

Eglantine smiled. ‘Perhaps we’ll hire a maid or three,’ she said, and then chuckled. ‘Or perhaps you won’t all go away… Ferdi says he plans to stay right here, after all. Plenty of Tookish ponies to be training. And Pip will marry one of these days…’

‘Later than sooner,’ Vinca said. ‘He’s but a tween!’

‘…and he’ll choose a sensible wife, I've no doubt, and she’ll be a great help. And perhaps if Frodo tires of the wilds of Buckland, well, I'm sure Paladin will welcome him here (seeing as how he has no home in Hobbiton any more), and his wife with him.’

‘His wife?’ Vinca said in astonishment.

‘Well, why else would he remove to Buckland, I ask you?’ Eglantine said, taking up the nearest basket and balancing it on her hip. ‘The only reason I can think of is that he has his eye on a sweet Bucklander he knew as a tween, and was just waiting for her to grow up…’

‘There are plenty of girls hereabout, and not to mention Overhill and Waymoot and the Yale! That he should go all the way to Buckland…!’ Pervinca twisted one side of her mouth in a wry expression. ‘Still, that would be just like him, wouldn’t it? He never does quite what you expect him to do.’

‘That would be old Bilbo’s influence,’ Eglantine said with a sigh and shake of her head. ‘Yes, he did the lad a favour by rescuing him from the wilds of Buckland in the first place, but then I'm afraid he filled Frodo’s head with all manner of wild notions. It’s likely only a Bucklander would be able to put up with him.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Pervinca said as her mother turned away to peg out the first basket of laundry.

With the bright sunshine and a good breeze, Eglantine hoped that all would be dry by the end of the day. Not likely, with the shorter days this time of year and the late start, but to be hoped anyhow. Otherwise they’d have to iron it dry, next day, on top of everything else. A part of her wished that they’d left the laundry to first thing tomorrow morning, but that would have put them three days behind. Wash day, iron day, sewing day, market day, the week laid out in proper order and that was the way it ought to be. They’d just have to catch up as best they could. It was a good lesson for Pervinca, at least, who’d likely not forget when running her own smial, how one must keep up with the work or have double work to do.

‘I'm always right!’ Eglantine said with a rippling laugh, and then added, as she always did, ‘except, of course, when I'm not.’

She was rewarded with a giggle from her weary daughter, and with a lighter heart she hurried to her next task.





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