Chapter 7. Midnight Arrival

Estella woke suddenly. It was middle night, and she ought to be soundly asleep, especially with as much exercise as she’d had, and as much food as she’d taken in that day, soothing her to somnolence as she hadn’t known since arriving at the forest Bolgers’ a little more than a week earlier. Why was she awake?

Without moving her body in its blankets, she allowed her slitted eyes to roam the shadowy room. No ruffian’s face pressed against the one window that looked on to the main room, weirdly lit by the turned-down lamp Rosemary had placed there, as had happened early on in her stay. Only her iron will had kept her from jumping up and shrieking – she had pinched herself, hard, under her covers, squeezed her eyes shut, pretended sleep, and fiercely willed the ruffian away. When she’d cracked one eyelid, a little while later, the window framed only darkness.

…as was the case now. All was darkness beyond the flickering lamp in the window. Wind moaned in the treetops outside, and she shivered, though she was plenty warm in her multiple coverings, some of fur and some of woven wool, before the banked fire. But it was not the wind that had wakened her, she was sure of that.

The scratching sound came again, and she recognised it as something she’d heard in her dream, and she just managed to keep from sitting upright. It might be a ruffian’s trick, though she rather doubted such a thing, this time of the night. Ruffians appeared to her to be inclined to laziness, and what reason would they have to skulk about, this late? The earlier vision, the frightful face peering in at the window, had not been quite so late at night as this. She was certain that it must be very late, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, very early. However, Hally and Rosemary had warned solemnly against ruffians’ tricks, along with their insistence on “as always” and their frequent practice with the children, that the little ones would know what words were safe to use in conversing – whether the ruffians were in front of them, or not. They always assumed Mens’ unseen presence, seeming almost never to relax, even for an instant. The game they played was too deadly for that, and their little ones’ lives depended upon the parents’ skill, preparation, and performance.

On second thought, what if a ruffian had seen them dragging the cart to Gundy’s smial, had hidden himself until after Hally and the “lads” had returned home, had seen Gundy’s family unpack the cart, with its secreted foodstuffs? What if the ruffians had grown suspicious of Hally and Rosemary, and were trying to catch the Bolgers in some other clandestine action on their part?

She had half a mind to creep from her covers to rouse Hally or Rosemary, but then she saw their bedroom door move, just a bit (no creaking, for the hinges were of well softened leather), and a figure stole so cautiously from bedroom door to smial door that she scarcely noted the movement. It was hobbit-creeping at its quietest, and at the sight, or half-sight, rather, Estella held her breath, peering from beneath her covers for all she was worth.

Hally (for the shadow was Hally, in truth) eased the crossbar from its place and opened the door a crack, just wide enough to peep through, and then a little wider, just enough to admit another shadowy figure, and then the door was quickly closed again, the crossbar was slipped silently back into place. Not a word was exchanged between the two who crouched now before the door, not any that Estella heard, at least. The two moved as one shadow from the door to the parents’ bedroom, and disappeared inside. Dizzy, Estella let go her long-held breath in as quiet a sigh as she could manage.

She lay pondering for a long while, all sleep forgotten. Suddenly she caught her breath in understanding. Ferdibrand Took was come!

She realised that she’d been listening, scarcely breathing in her effort to hear, only when Hally’s whistling snore sounded from the bedroom. She was of two minds, as to whether or not he was faking. It must be difficult to feign sleep – for how did you know exactly how you slept, what sort of noises you might make, what sort of movements – turning over, or lying a certain way – if the only time you had to study yourself was when you were asleep! The forest Bolgers were just devious enough, however, to Estella’s mind, that she wouldn’t put it past them for Rosemary to have studied Hally while he was sleeping, in order to coach him in “as usual” behaviour, and vice versa.

Still, they might have fallen back to sleep, that is, Hally and the mysterious visitor (and likely Rosemary as well), and even if they hadn’t, Estella had heard nothing at all in the way of voices from the bedroom. She yawned widely. Oh, but she was sleepy herself!

She listened a while longer, not noticing when at last she slipped into sleep.

***

Next morning all was “as usual” with Hally making up the fire and putting on the teakettle, the children setting the table, Rosemary frying bacon and stirring up batter for griddle cakes, and Robin and Estella making numerous trips to fetch water and wood. The morning was misty and cool, but Estella hardly noticed, or at least she told herself not to notice. Shivering and wrapping up in a shawl was a girlish thing to do, and feeling the cold (or at the very least, noticing it) and insisting that others (such as husbands, sons, or nephews) wrap themselves in something warm, a cloak or jacket or some such, was a motherish thing. Thus when Rosemary noticed that Robin and Estella were going in and out in their shirtsleeves, of all things, she insisted that each don a cloak sewn together of warm rabbit skins, "at the very least!" As a matter of course, Estella grumbled just as much as Robin did, at this motherly nonsense.

‘I’m not cold!’

‘Well you ought to be! I can feel the draught every time you open the door…!’

At last the family sat down at table, and if Estella had not been watching very closely indeed, while arranging firewood in a neat pile by the hearth, she’d not even have noticed Rosemary, in her bustles about the room, taking her sewing basket into the parents’ bedroom, neatly covered with a cloth. It was only the good smells that emanated from the basket as Rosemary passed close to Estella, that alerted her as to its contents. And when Rosemary emerged from the bedroom without the basket, Estella’s insides clenched tight. Last night had not been a dream!

She wondered when the Bolgers would let her know of Ferdibrand’s arrival, or even if, for Rosemary had told Freddy plainly that if Ferdi distrusted Estella, on his arrival, then he would come and go without Estella ever knowing he’d been there. And then what would they do? Estella did not want to add to the forest Bolgers’ danger by staying any longer than necessary.

Still, though everything within her itched to find an excuse to enter the bedroom, to confirm her suspicions, she disciplined herself to play this new game of the Bolgers’, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the night, that no midnight visitor was hidden away behind a half-closed door, eating Rosemary’s delicious cookery in secret, unacknowledged by the family. Perhaps the children hadn’t even noticed his arrival while they were sleeping, and didn’t even know of his lurking presence now!

Yesterday’s washing lay folded in baskets, ready for today’s ironing, and after breakfast was over and the washing up was proceeding (with Rosemary’s eldest daughter “helping” as much as a tot might be able), Hally set the flatirons to heat by the hearth and then called the older lads to their outdoor chores, milking the goats and pegging them out to forage, feeding the chickens and gathering eggs, picking up sticks in the yard that had blown down in last night’s wind, and more.

Rosemary laid a heavy cloth over the freshly scrubbed table, sprinkled the first piece of linen (a shirt of Hally’s, it was), and commenced her ironing whilst the littlest ones played about on the floor. The first few times Estella came in from outside, bringing a bucket of milk that she placed in the cold room, and the next time fetching grain, and carrying a basket of eggs the next, she thought that Rosemary was telling stories to keep the little ones amused as she ironed and as she went back and forth to lay one iron to heat while fetching another from the hearth, freshly warmed.

At first Estella hardly listened, busy with her own thoughts and speculations, to the continuing, almost monotonous murmuring, until (as she knelt before the hearth to refresh the fire) some familiar words caught her attention. ‘…and then Mossy said, “Those Tooks! They’ll have their comeuppance, see if they don’t, the little rats…!” and Three-fingers answered, “But not for some time, yet. Did we tell you, Rosie, of the traps they set, just past where the old Crowing Cockerel used to stand?” And Scar shook his head, and muttered, “Best beer this side of the Tookland. Why’d we have to burn it, anyhow?” And…’

Suddenly she realised that Rosemary was recounting, word for word, the conversations of the ruffians on that day they’d brought a waggonload of supplies to the Bolgers’ smial, and had stayed after filling the pantry, to enjoy Rosie’s freshly baked cakes. How did she manage it? The hobbit must have perfect recall! Why, she even imitated the voices of the ruffians, such that Estella could clearly recognise each one.

She understood now, or thought she did, how the scheme worked, and marvelled at its cleverness. There was nothing in writing, to damn them in the ruffians’ eyes, no written message to betray them if dropped or discovered. Rosemary, and presumably her brother, enjoyed perfect recall. Rosemary, into the bargain, could discern truth from untruth, and thus all that she told her brother, and all that he carried on to the Thain, information that might be used in the defence of the Tookland, was based in truth – at least what the ruffians saw as truth. Still, Rosemary would be able to discount any evasions they might make to try and mislead or deceive the Bolgers. If the ruffians believed something that was a lie, and told such information to the Bolgers, well, that might be a problem. But somehow, from listening to her parents and Freddy talking about Lotho, Estella didn’t think the ruffians or their Boss were clever enough for such a ploy.

She burned to know if Ferdibrand had found her trustworthy, if he would take her with him when he went away again, or if he’d leave her here. There was another possibility, Rosemary had told her. He might not be able to take her with him this time, might leave her because he’d have to make preparations to bring her safely through the occupied territory to the free Tookland. She wasn’t sure if she preferred the nerve-wracking play-acting needed here, day and night, without respite, or the dangerous journey to come, with freedom at its finish.

Still, it was out of her hands. There was nothing that she could do to affect the outcome. Her duty was to continue “as usual”, just as everyone else did, and hope, and wait for Ferdibrand to make up his mind.