Twitch closed the screen and straightened in his seat. To Pincup, the Thain had ordered. More curious with each passing hour, he eased the ponies up the road, feeling a twinge of regret. He would have liked to stop and visit his parents while in Pincup, but he was on official business and that was out of the question. 

Twitch wondered yet again about this official business. With everything going on back at Great Smials, why would the Thain choose to leave? Might this have something to do with all the rumors being whispered at the inn last night, some feud between the Lady and the Whitwells? If so, he had no idea how or why. Nor did he have an idea why the Thain had chosen such a roundabout way of getting to Pincup. Over the hills in a straight line would have been faster than winding their way along the forest trails. Perhaps answers might be more forthcoming once they arrived at their destination.

After a half-mile, a lane appeared on the south side of the Stock Road. Twitch eased the ponies into the turn, giving plenty of room for the carriage. He had only been this way once before, but he remembered the route well enough. Stay to the right of every fork except the last one to get to Pincup. 

He wondered how the Thain knew about this road. His father had told him once about traveling to Pincup with the Thain, though he hadn’t been the Thain then. Was that how the Thain knew about it? He wondered about his father’s friendship with the Thain, such an odd friendship for his father to have. His mother never cared much for his father being friends with the Thain. Twitch had once asked her why, only to be ignored. He wondered about that as well. But that couldn’t have anything to do with whatever was going on now, could it?

~*~

Chapter 8 – Midyear’s Day

Rumbi sat down next to Ami, who was yawning and stretching out the knots that had formed from sleeping on the hard ground. He plucked a blade of grass from her hair and handed her a cup of tea, which she took with a smile.

“Morning, Darling. Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Wonderfully,” she replied, stifling a yawn. She sipped on her tea and blinked, trying to focus her blurred vision. She rubbed her eyes and attempted to wipe the dirt from her face, to little effect. She frowned down at her fingers, wet with morning dew, and giggled. 

“What?” 

“You’ll wake with dew on your face,” she muttered.

“What?” he asked again but Ami only shook her head.

“Never mind. Did you sleep well?” she asked, checking her pockets for a handkerchief. 

“Like logs.” He pulled a handkerchief from his own pocket, dunked it quickly in the pot of simmering water, waved it back and forth until it cooled, then gently dabbed the smears of dust off Ami’s face. He marveled at his own bravery, but as Ami didn’t pull away, he continued and when he finished kissed her lightly on her brow. “Will you join me for luncheon today at the teahouse? I have something about which I need speak with you.”

“Of course,” she said, though she wasn’t so sure if she wanted to meet him alone, not if he was going to give her a lecture on acting like a proper lass as Pally had promised the other night. “Do I get a hint?”

“You do not. You’re going to have to be patient, but hopefully you will enjoy the surprise,” Rumbi said, finding another blade of grass. He plucked this also, then pulled a comb from his pants pocket and lifted his eyebrows inquiringly. 

Ami promptly turned her back so he could comb her hair, feeling better about their meeting. A surprise would not include a lecture, of that she was certain. Rumbi didn’t have a flare for sarcasm or irony, so if he intended to surprise her, it could only be a good thing. “What if I guess?” she asked.

“Guess all you want,” Ferumbras said, gingerly pulling the brush through her hair. “I’m not telling you.”

“Even if I guess right?”

“No, not even then,” he said, even as his stomach clenched at that delightful prospect. 

Ami guessing his intention to propose, which would undoubtedly be put forth as a joke, would still be a definite sign that she felt the same way, that she would say yes when the time came. He was nervous enough to consider the test, faulty though he knew it to be. He was about to request Ami to begin guessing when she suddenly stiffened, straightened up and faced forward, her cheeks flaming. Rumbi looked up to find his mother standing at the edge of the tent lane, scowling around the circle at no one and everyone.

“I think your mother is still angry with me,” she said in a whisper. 

“No, she’s angry at Da,” Rumbi assured. “He didn’t listen to her argument for Mr. Downfeather as mayor. Or rather, he did listen but he’s going to vote for Mr. Goodbeck as he and the cousins agreed anyway. Another battle lost. I swear, every year she grows more determined to outlive my father so she can rule the Tooks the way she wants to.”

He had spoken lightly but Ami shuddered at the thought of Lalia as head mistress of the Tooks. She quickly changed the subject. “What about Mr. Diggle?” she asked.

“What about him? Da can’t vote for him just because he’s from Tookland,” Rumbi said. “He has to vote for the candidate he feels would make the best mayor, and he decided that was Mr. Goodbeck. I thought you would approve of the selection. His family comes from working class origins. It shows rather forward thinking on our part, don’t you think?”

“Forward would have been electing his grandfather,” Ami said. “He wouldn’t be the first new gentry elected mayor just so folk can prove to themselves that they aren’t complete snobs.”

“No, he wouldn’t be, but I can assure Da’s vote is sincere.”

“Which is what makes your mother all the more furious.” 

They both looked up, just as Lalia spotted them in the crowd. They looked down quickly again. “Don’t make eye contact,” he said, sending Ami into a riot of nervous giggles.

A moment later, a shadow fell over them. “What is so funny?” Lalia demanded.

Ami began to giggle more, so that she had difficulty even breathing. Rumbi mustered enough control to answer, “There are many things that are funny, Mother.”

“What are you talking about?” Lalia asked, trying a different track.

“That would be a private matter between Darling and I,” Ferumbras said, sobering quickly now. He looked his mother in the eye, despite his own advice. “Is there something you want?”

Lalia huffed, turned on her heel and stalked away to find someone else to intimidate. 

“Thank you,” Ami said, finally managing to control herself. “I appreciate that.”

“Don’t worry about Mum, Darling. I won’t allow her to be cruel to you again,” Rumbi promised.  “One o’clock. The teahouse. You’ll come alone?”

She nodded. “I’ll come.”

He handed her the comb so she could finish with her hair and went in search of his father; he needed to rehearse his proposal again. 

Esme and Dicentra arrived from changing in the tent at that moment. Esme watched Rumbi depart with a frown on her face. “What did he want?” she asked.

“Just saying good morning and inviting me to luncheon, so I won’t be eating with the rest of you,” Ami said.

“Why? Can’t we come?” Esme asked, sitting down and taking her sister’s tea for a drink. 

“He wants to see me alone,” Ami said. “He said it was a surprise. It must be my birthday present. I wonder what he got me?”

“If he’s smart, he’d get you your own riding shawl,” Esme said smartly and was immediately pinched by Ami. “Ow! Still a sore subject?” she asked, rubbing her arm.

“Yes.”

“Sorry, love.” She looked around the circle and yawned. She took the comb from Ami’s grasp and pulled it through her own hair. Meanwhile, Dicentra sat behind Ami and began to braid her hair.

The hour was early. The sun in the east had not yet risen above the horizon. A few stars twinkled still in the west and the sky was lightened to a pale violet. Tooks were slowly starting to stir, and soon enough someone would be bringing out the cooking pots and provender. There was no official cooking schedule for the fair, though everyone lent their hand to cooking breakfast at one point or another. This morning was destined to be their turn, as they soon found out.

Calluna Took bent a finger at the lasses, as well as Saradoc, Paladin and Merimac, who were also awake by now. “Get up and be of use,” she said with cheer, indicating the cauldron and frying pan. They all leapt to their feet instantly; they dared not ignore a request by Isengar’s firstborn. The lads went to haul the cookery to the fire pit while the lasses helped to sort out what would be cooked for first and second breakfasts. Soon enough, they were all busy cooking as Calluna sat back, smoking a pipe with a twinkle in her eye. By the time Gardenia emerged, Calluna was regaling her younger cousins with lavish and wildly inaccurate retellings of her father’s many exploits over sea. Gardenia shook her head at her daughter, took the pipe away and went in search of the privy.

Saradoc elbowed Esme, who giggled. “Never too old not to be told what to do,” he said.

“A sobering thought,” she agreed.

By the time the food was ready, the first wave of hungry Tooks were standing in line, plates at the ready. Fortinbras was among them, for he needed to be at the Town Hole early. He sat next to his son and glanced briefly across the circle at Ami and her friends. “Don’t forget to take the gift with you,” he whispered.

Rumbi patted his pocket. “Luncheon is an eternity away.”

“It will be here soon enough,” Fortinbras said. “The morning’s work will see to that.”

Rumbi raised his eyebrows in doubt. “Casting a vote and then standing about waiting for the ballots to be counted doesn’t strike me as particularly thrilling. If the sun stops in midair, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Fortinbras laughed. “You’ll see,” was all he said. 

They finished their meal, washed their dishes and departed. They stopped by the tent to put their dishes away and continued to the Town Hole without a word. 

The main hall was nearly full when they arrived. Nearly three-quarters of the family heads were already present, and the rest were not far behind. The mayor stood on the stage with Master Rorimac, and Fortinbras and Rumbi quickly joined them. They said their good mornings and chatted idly about the weather and the fair until the last of the family heads arrived and the doors were closed. It was time for the voting to begin.

None of the candidates were to be present for the voting. The family heads each took their seats when Mayor Lightfoot held up his hands and clapped twice. “Thank you all for arriving promptly. I know you are eager to enjoy the fair, so we shall be as prompt as possible. As there are among us many who have not participated in an election year before, I will briefly go over the process for today’s voting. I trust you have all given considerable thought to what you heard at yesterday’s debate and have arrived this morning ready to cast your vote. Are there any of you still uncertain of your decision? Do not be hesitant to speak up.”

A few hands slowly went into the air, followed by a few more. 

Lightfoot motioned for the hands to be lowered. “As I suspected. All our candidates have their own admirable qualities and unique set of attributes. Were I voting, I’d be struggling with the decision as well.” Those who raised their hands sighed almost as one. “Yet a decision must be made. As there are those who are uncertain, we will conduct the vote by secret ballot, so as not to influence those who need more time. You can review the candidates’ written statements, as well as the notes taken of the debate, both of which can be located along the back table. For those of you ready to cast your votes, you should have found an envelope on your seat when you sat down. Is anyone missing a ballot? ... No? Good. Then proceed to the front table here, mark your selection, fold your ballot in half - please be sure the ink is dry before folding it! - and place your ballot in the box. Once you have cast your vote, you are free to go. Please do not speak about your vote to anyone until you are outside the Hole.”

Fortinbras and Rorimac were the first to the voting table. They had been given their ballots by the mayor when they entered the hall and as the Thain and Master they were granted the privilege of first vote. Rumbi knew better than to hope this meant an early departure for them. He already knew they would have to remain to ensure the rest of the vote ran smoothly. Several hobbits forgot to wait until the ink was dry before folding their ballots and needed new ones. Others were caught whispering amongst themselves, comparing notes and observations, while others were prone to peeking over shoulders. 

The dozen or so hobbits who had migrated to the back of the hall were, much to Rumbi’s surprise, the quietest. They flipped through the written statements and the debate records, only stopping to ask each other if they recalled the candidates’ exact wording on this matter or that, as the notes only paraphrased. Rumbi quickly noticed that each of them were new to their position as family head, thus explaining why they wanted to make certain of their decision before casting their votes. When they each came to a conclusion, they quietly joined the lines, their faces set.

Fortinbras was right: the morning went by without Rumbi even realizing it. By the time the last ballot was slipped into the box, it was just past time for elvenses and only two hours before he was to meet Ami. 

He pressed his pants pocket again and felt the box. He had chosen his grandmother’s butterfly pendant necklace with a matching bracelet as his promise gift. He had thought at first to give her the traditional promise gift that has been handed down the Thain’s line since the time of Isumbras III, a heart-pendant necklace, but that would have required asking his mother for it. After their last conversation, he thought it would be unwise to approach his mother for the favor, not to mention that Ami would likely refuse it out of hand after the scolding she had received over the shawl. 

As he helped his father, Mayor Lightfoot and Master Rorimac to collect the boxes for delivery to the lawyers across the hall, he went over again how he planned to propose. He hoped he did not forget it all when the time came. He placed his ballot box on the table in front of the nearest lawyer then stood back to watch unobtrusively the beginning process of the tallying of votes. So as to leave no room for doubt, each lawyer opened one ballot after another, showed it to each of the other lawyers and their two aides, whose job it was to keep the count. If at the end of the tallying, there was any discrepancy in the total that the aides came up with, the ballots would be recounted until the tallies matched. Thankfully, Fortinbras pulled Rumbi out of the room after only a quarter-hour. 

“How many times do they usually have to recount?” Rumbi asked, stifling a yawn as he followed his father back to the Mayor’s Hall. A handful of servants were already there, cleaning up and straightening out. Mayor Lightfoot and Master Rori sat at the edge of the stage, their legs dangling over the side. 

“Usually no more than two or three times,” his father replied. “I’ve heard that the record is still held by the election of 1128, when the ballots had to be recounted twenty-three times.”

“Twenty-three?” Rumbi asked, appalled. How could anyone stay awake that long? Then again, perhaps that had been the problem.

“I heard it was thirty-two times,” Lightfoot said.

“Then there was the Great Debacle of 1322,” Rori said. “That was one of the last years they conducted the vote by raise of hand, because folk kept changing their minds when they saw how their friends were voting. After that, they tried voting in sets of ten, then five. Finally they went to the secret ballot in 1343. Since then, I believe it’s only been conducted by hand three other times.”

Lightfoot nodded. “Even if they had all stated to be fully certain of their decision, I would have kept the vote to the ballot.”

“So what do we do now?” Rumbi asked.

“Now, we go to the Falcon and get some food,” Lightfoot said. They stood with the Mayor and went with him out of the hall. “They should be done with the count by tonight’s announcement ceremony.”

“What if they aren’t?” Rumbi asked.

“Then the announcement will have to wait,” Lightfoot said practically. 

Rori harrumphed. “Won’t that get folk talking! To have a mayor announced on Overlithe would be the jam on the scone to many. Such a mayor would have to be destined for greatness!”

“Well he may be, whichever day the announcement is made,” Lightfoot said. “If it’s all the same, I’d prefer it be tonight, so he can help me with the wedding ceremonies.”

Rumbi excused himself. His stomach was tied into knots and he doubted he’d be able to eat until Ami was sitting across from him anyway. He spent the next hour and a half wandering the fairgrounds and enjoying the contests and displays. When the sun neared one, he headed for the teahouse. He found a table near the back for privacy and kept a watch on the door. He ordered the food and tea but asked for it to be brought only when Ami arrived. 

The minutes ticked by. Rumbi wrung his hands. His eyes never left the door but he began to wonder if he had somehow missed her coming in despite that. He glanced around the teahouse but saw no sign of Darling anywhere. The barmaid came by again and this time he accepted a cup of tea. He glanced at his pocket watch while the barmaid poured him a cup. 1:15. Where could she be? Had she decided not to come? Had she forgotten?

He finished his cup and waited a few minutes longer. He was just getting ready to head out and look for Ami when the door swung open and in she dashed. She looked harried and was puffing like a bellows. She had clearly been running to get here. Rumbi stood so she could spot him. She grinned and waved and proceeded to weave around the tables and other patrons.

“Hallo Rumbi!” she greeted, running a hand through her curls in an attempt to tame her hair. “Sorry I’m late, but I was with Esme, Pally, Mac and Sara picking out race pigs. Before I knew it, I looked up and it was one! You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?”

Rumbi smiled in return and gave her a quick peck on the brow. “Not to worry, Darling. Did you find a good swine?”

“We think so,” Ami said, sliding into the booth. “She’s a husky sow and has just the right amount of spunk.”

“It’s good that you’re enjoying yourselves. If you have no objections, I’ve already ordered.” He caught the barmaid’s eye and motioned that he was now ready for the food. He sat across from Ami, who was still panting slightly. “What else have you been up to? Surely you haven’t been looking at sows this whole time?”

Ami grinned. “Oh, there’s so much to see and so much food to eat! It’s such a shame you’ve had to be cooped up in the Mayor’s Hall the last two days, but it’s over now, isn’t it?”

“It is, the voting part at any rate. I do not believe there is anything else I need to do, except enjoy the pleasure of your company of course,” he said and lit up at Ami’s sweet smile. He clenched his hands in his lap and only just remembered to thank the barmaid when she arrived with their food. “Eat up. You must be hungry.”

“Oh, I’ve been nibbling all morning,” she said but picked up her soupspoon with enthusiasm all the same. “We ate these little custard tarts from Nobottle, and smoked meat from the Brockhouses, and the most wonderful round bread I’ve ever tasted. I didn’t think anything could beat the bread they make here at the bakery, but I was wrong. Did you know there’s this gaffer with a wild wolf? And he’s taught it to do all these tricks. He even has a small cast of falcons and they hunt with the wolf! It’s amazing!” 

“It sounds like you’re having a delightful time, indeed.” 

They ate then, commenting only on the food before them, when they spoke at all. Once they were finished and the barmaid had cleared their table, Rumbi reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, careful to keep it concealed below the tabletop. Ami noticed the movement and paused, waiting.

Rumbi paused also, holding his breath for a moment, then plunged ahead. “Amaryllis, my dearest Darling, words alone cannot express what you mean to me. You have been a dear friend, and a joyous cousin, and always do you delight me in every way I can imagine. I wish for you to have this.” He opened the box and placed it atop the table. 

Ami opened the box eagerly, and her breath hitched. She recognized it instantly of course, for she had seen the portraits of her great-grandmother and great aunt wearing the necklace and bracelet. “Oh, Rumbi,” she whispered.

“I ask that you accept my proposal and give me your hand in marriage,” Ferumbras said.

Ami sat looking at the heirlooms. She reached out as if to touch but stopped short of contact, either too mesmerized or too afraid to touch. “Oh, Rumbi,” she said again.

Rumbi wasn’t sure how to judge this reaction. He sat, a nervous cluster of anticipation, and waited.

Finally, Ami settled on reaching across the table and covering his hand with hers. “Rumbi, you know you are dear to me as well, and I think of you with the utmost affection.” She wavered on the brink of saying more, uncertainty creeping into her eyes. Rumbi’s stomach dropped. “I just... I... need time to think about it.” She squeezed his hand, as though that would quell the pain and disappointment that stabbed his heart at that moment. “Please, dear Rumbi, allow me until the end of the fair.”

“Of course,” Rumbi said and smiled bravely. “I understand this is somewhat sudden. I would be remiss if you felt pressured to answer at once.”

“Thank you, Rumbi,” Ami said.

An awkward silence settled over their table. Ami still hadn’t touched the heirlooms and Ferumbras was uncertain of what to do next. He had hoped of course that Ami would say yes, but he was not so foolish as to disregard the possibility of a no. Somehow, he had overlooked the chance of Ami’s uncertainty. Finally, he reached for the box, closed it, and slid it towards her again. 

“It is for your birthday, after all, whether or no,” he said. He paused, his mind racing. Why was she uncertain? His mother’s disapproving scowl popped into his head. “Are you still worried about my mother? I meant it when I said I would never allow her to speak to you like that again.”

Ami smiled weakly. “I know you meant it.” She wrung her heads, looking miserable. “I just wasn’t expecting this, I suppose. You’ve caught me rather off guard.”

Another silence fell upon them, during which Ami fiddled with her curls and Rumbi surreptitiously wiped the sweat from his hands and tried not to be sick. The barmaid came to fill their cups but Rumbi stopped her and paid her instead. He stood and offered his arm to Ami. She finally picked up the box and slipped out of the booth. She hesitated a moment and took his arm.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?” she asked.

“I do not,” he said. Whatever marvelous plans he had been imaging were most assuredly shattered. “I do however need to check with my father to ensure there is nothing else I need to do, and I am to observe the... wedding ceremonies as well.”

“Oh. Well, Esme, Pally, Sara, Mac and I will be watching the races,” Ami said as they stepped outside into the midday heat. “Join us?”

“I will look for you.”

Ami turned to him and began to stretch up on her toes for her customary good-bye peck on the cheek. She hesitated again, clearly not knowing what Rumbi expected. He solved the problem for her by lifting her hand and kissing the back of it. “Shall I keep you company until we find your friends?”

“I don’t want to keep your father waiting. Come as soon as you can. After the pig races, we’re going to watch the pairs races and the four-hobbit rally,” Ami said. “I’ll see you then.” She turned and dashed away, either in a hurry to find her friends or leave his side or both.

She was soon swallowed up by the crowd and Ferumbras went to find his father. He found Fortinbras as he was leaving the Falcon. Fortinbras only needed one look at his son to know that all had not gone according to plan. He took his son back inside to one of the private sitting rooms and closed the door. 

“What did she say?” he asked.

Rumbi shrugged and smiled weakly. “She needs to think about it. It’s not a no at least. Not yet, anyway. She promises to have an answer for me by the end of the fair.”

Fortinbras hugged his son and patted his back. “I’m sorry, son. I know it isn’t what you were hoping for, but don’t be discouraged. There are many a lass who linger over the decision, for it is not a small one, even when they were courting the lad.”

“And we weren’t courting. I can’t wait until Mother hears about this,” Rumbi said, his mouth pinched into a thin line. “I can already hear her saying ‘I told you so’.”

“We won’t tell her yet,” Fortinbras said. “We’ll wait until Darling gives you her answer.”

Rumbi snorted. “Good luck with that. I’m surprised Mother isn’t here right now, demanding to know every detail.” He paled as a horrid thought crossed his mind. “Unless Mother is out there hunting her down. You don’t think she would do that, do you?”

Fortinbras opened his mouth to reassure his son but stopped. He too could envision that particular confrontation only too well. He didn’t doubt that Lalia would be kind in her questioning, but he knew that would make little difference considering current circumstances. “She’s supposed to be helping to make badges for the contest winners,” he said. “I’ll stop by and check on her. You go to Ami. Just be her friend right now.”

“Thank you, Father,” Rumbi said. 

They parted ways once they reached the fairgrounds, Fortinbras going in the direction of the sewing circles and Ferumbras to the competition fields were the races were taking place today.  He had no idea how he would get through the next couple of days, but for Ami he would do his best not to put any more pressure on her than what she must already be feeling. He scanned the grounds for his mother as he went and was glad to reach the racing grounds without spying so much as a glimpse of her. He found the others without difficulty but he was surprised to discover that Ami wasn’t there.

“Hallo,” he greeted.

Paladin, Esmeralda and Saradoc looked up, just as surprised as he was. “Where’s Darling?” Sara asked.

“She said she was coming here,” Rumbi said, his stomach dropping yet further. 

“She told us she was having luncheon with you,” Esme said, in an almost accusing tone.

“We did have,” Rumbi said. “I needed to see Father afterwards and she invited me to join you for the races. She was coming here.”

“Oh, well, you know Darling,” Pally said with a wave of his hand. “She must have met someone and got distracted. She’ll be along. What do you think of the swine we chose?” He pointed to a black-spotted sow rutting in the dirt.

“She looks hale,” Rumbi said, though he wasn’t paying the sow much attention. 

He scanned the crowds for Ami. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had something to do with her failure to appear and tried to reason with himself that Pally was most likely right. She had come across a friend or cousin and stopped to talk then forgotten herself. At any other time, he would have found it endearing and he tried to do so now. He failed miserably in that attempt. “Perhaps I should look for her.”

Esme narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? What happened at luncheon?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Rumbi said, trying his best to sound cheerful. 

Thankfully, they were soon joined by more of their cousins and soon after that, the races began. The races proved poor distractions though and as the afternoon wore on, Rumbi began to worry that something was truly wrong. Even Pally and Esme were beginning to watch the crowds more than the races once the sprints began. 

As the tracks were being set for the relay, Rumbi made a decision. “I’m going to look for her,” he announced. 

“I’m coming with you,” Pally said and handed his wager to Sara. “Stay with Esme. If Ami shows up, keep her with you. If we don’t come back before the end of the races, meet us at the tent circle.”

“All right,” Sara said.

“Is there something I should know about?” Paladin asked as they inched their way through the crowd.

“I proposed to Darling. She’s thinking about it,” Rumbi said.

Pally whistled low. “I’m sorry. I thought for sure she would say yes instantly. She adores you.”

“I hope so,” Rumbi said and laughed ruefully. “When she was late for luncheon, I started to wonder if she was trying to avoid me.”

“I’ve never seen a lass run that fast, when she realized what time it was,” Pally stated. They made it through the press of the crowd and into the general foot traffic. Pally paused, thinking. “You would have given her a gift. Maybe she went to the inn to put it away.”

”It’s worth a try,” Rumbi said. Without another word, they both turned and headed for the Pheasant. 

To be continued...

GF 7/27/11