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In the Court of the High King  by Dreamflower

Chapter 7

Viola followed her Mistress and Mistress Serindë from the latter's office down a vast corridor.  Trailing along behind the tall healer, who was dressed in breeches of all things! made her feel very small and very young.  All the doors were so large and the ceilings so high!  After Bree, after Edoras, after yesterday at the Citadel, she would have thought she'd begin to get used to it all.  But sometimes it still overwhelmed her.  Perhaps she should speak to her Mistress about it.  

Mistress Poppy was trotting alongside the Gondorian healer, and Viola hurried to catch up enough to hear what they were saying.  She was sure that Mistress Poppy would ask her about some of it at some point.

"The Houses really are several houses and buildings.  I wish that I had time to give you a full tour, but that will probably take more than a day, Mistress Poppy."

"I don't expect to see it all in a day, Mistress Serindë.  I thank you for sparing us the time today!"

"It's a pleasure to see hobbits again!  I grew quite fond of your people when I lived in Bree."

"You don't sound like a Bree-lander," Mistress Poppy replied.

"Because I'm not a Bree-lander. I was born in Dol Amroth, which is a sea-port in the South of Gondor. I trained here in the Houses and served as a healer with the Ithilien Rangers before that…" she paused briefly, and Viola was sure she had been about to say something else "... before political considerations made it prudent for me to leave Gondor. I met my husband in Bree, had my children there and raised them there. I only came back when I got word that the war started and they were screaming for trained battle surgeons."

"I didn't realise you were married.  It's uncommon, though not unheard of, for healers to marry in the Shire."

Their guide paused very briefly and took a deep breath, "I am widowed. My husband was killed in the war."  She began to walk just a little faster.  "Now," she added briskly, "down this way are the offices of the senior healers."

Viola glanced at her Mistress as they scurried to keep up.  Mistress Serindë had moved on from the topic so swiftly that there had not been even an instant for offering a polite word of condolence.  Mistress Poppy shook her head very slightly, and Viola realised that they were not to pursue the subject.  But she had heard the sorrow in Mistress Serindë's voice.  It seemed wrong not to show that they cared.

Most of the doors in the passageway were shut, but one of them was ajar, and a young Man was coming out with a polite bow.  "Yes, Master Egalmoth.  I will try to do better, sir…" he turned, saw them coming towards them, and his eyes widened in what Viola could have sworn was terror.

"Mistress Serindë!" He stopped and gave even more of a bow than he had when coming out of the other office.

"Apprentice Udalraph," she gave him a cool nod.  "May I present Healer Mistress Poppy Burrows of the Shire and her apprentice, Miss Viola Harfoot?"

The young Man gave a startled glance, as though he had not even seen them before the senior healer had spoken.  He gave another belated bow.  "I-I am honoured to m-meet you…" he stammered.

Mistress Poppy gave a gracious nod, as did Viola.  "At your service, Mr. Udalraph," she said.

He looked up at Mistress  Serindë and the terror returned to his expression. "I-er, I…"

She took pity on him.  "You may go, Apprentice Udalraph.  I am quite certain that Master Egalmoth has set you a task."

"Yes.  Yes, Mistress…"  he turned and nearly ran in the other direction.

She shook her head, a ghost of a smile twitching at her lips.  "He's new," she said.  She reached up and rapped at the open door.  "Master Egalmoth?  Here is someone you need to meet."

The Man inside rose.  He was not tall for a Gondorian, and was somewhat portly.  He had a bald spot on the top of his head and a short pointy beard and a small pointy mustache.  Viola had never seen a beard or mustache quite like that before.

"Master Egalmoth is our Herb-master here at the Houses of Healing…"
______________________________

He stared, at a loss as to what they wanted.  "Denham, Rollin? Why have you come?"

Denny made a gesture for him to sit down.  They were seated on a low bench, and there was a short stool placed in front of them.  Reluctantly he took the seat, and his face flaming, he stared down at his toes, waiting for them to say what they had come to say.  He still could not understand why they were there-- by Shire custom, they should be pretending he did not even exist.  

He did not say anything aloud, so he was startled to hear Rolly saying, as if he had read his mind, "We aren't in the Shire."

Clodio looked up, to see both of them studying him closely.

"See here," said Denny, "we're in the world of the Big Folk now.  And we're here in the place of the King.  What he says goes.  Mr. Freddy, he thinks this King won't be too hard on you, on account of you being a hobbit and kin to Captain Pippin.  But there's no way to be sure.  Mr. Frodo told us the laws of Men are mighty stiff, and what Men think of as not too hard might be like rock to hobbits.  We're not so fond of you as all that, Cousin Clodio, but we don't want to see you suffer neither.  And what you say about things may make the difference."

Clodio looked down at his toes again; it was hard to look into these eyes of his kin, knowing how he had disgraced the family.  "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Why did you do it?" asked Rolly.

Why indeed? he wondered.  He'd been wondering ever since he'd begun to realise the depth of the trouble he and his sons and Dago were in just why he had thrown in his lot with Lotho.

"Why?" He sighed.  "Do you want me to tell you why I thought I did it at the time, or what I've come to realise in the last few weeks?"

"What happened?" Denny asked, and Clodio was surprised to hear simple curiousity, rather than the condemnation he so surely deserved.

"Jealousy, I suppose it was," Clodio answered.  "I was jealous of Eglantine.  It seemed to me that my sister always had things easy-- people always liked her.  It never seemed fair to me that she could make friends so easily, while I found it so difficult to get to know people.  And then, she wed into the Tooks.  Not merely a Took, but the Heir Apparent to the Thain even then-- because it was clear that no maiden wanted Lalia for a mother-in-law and that it was more than unlikely Ferumbras would ever wed.  Suddenly my sister was at the top of the Great Families.  And it rankled.  I kept telling myself that the Bankses were nearly as old a family-- and far more respectable.  It didn't seem right that our family name was not ranked higher, at the least higher than the Bagginses who were on the decline, and the Bolgers who were no older than the Bankses though they had a larger fortune.  And I certainly thought we should have been higher than the Boffinses and the Proudfoots and the Chubbs.  I had all sorts of ideas about why the other families tried to keep us down-- most of which, I admit now were nothing short of moonshine."

"But what difference does that make?" asked Rolly.

"Not a bit," Clodio answered, surprising even himself.  "I see that now.  But at the time I was full of pride and ambition-- and I confess it, greed.  And then Dago and Lotho came to me..."

"We have a proposition from an Outland customer in the South," Dago said. "Have you ever heard of Mr. White?"

"Only rumors," Clodio said.

"Mr. White is more than a rumor," said Lotho. "He has had dealings with my family for several generations. He pays very well for the leaf he buys from the Southfarthing-- better than anyone in the Shire, and even better than the Dwarves. And he has interest in purchasing more than just leaf. He'd like to start buying up produce and foodstuffs as well."

"Ship food out of the Shire?" Pipeweed and wool and woolen goods were the Shire's main exports, but it was rare to export food. Hobbits were always worried about another Fell Winter or even a Long Winter, and preferred to keep most of the food they grew within the Bounds.

"Why not?  We have excellent harvests every year, and what are the odds of another Fell Winter?"

Something about Dago's blithe assurance gave him a twinge of worry, but Lotho was speaking.

"What Mr. White has suggested is that we buy several farms.  We can continue to rent them out to the farmers, but for a share of the crops they raise.  We'll be able to ship the harvest to him without any objection-- or none that counts, anyway!  He's prepared to pay generously for the crops.  There are few farms in the country where he dwells.  For some reason the people there are obsessed with raising horses.  Most of the land is given over to the herds."

"Horses?"  Clodio was honestly confounded.  What use would so many horses be?  A few, for pulling plows or waggons, and a few for riding, but what would anyone need that many horses for?  Unlike sheep or cattle they produced no milk or wool, and he didn't know of anyone who'd eat horse or pony flesh!  "That seems a waste of fertile land."

Dago shrugged; Lotho said off-handedly "I think that the Men in the South are often riding off to wars.  I suppose that's why they need so many horses."

Clodio shuddered.  He could not begin to imagine a war.  Men were strange creatures!

"What do you want from me?" he asked.  "And more importantly, what's in it for me and for the Bankses?"

Lotho sat back and grinned at him.  "Just an investment; I have money coming from Mr. White, but it takes time for his messenger to come such a long distance.  I could use some smart investors so that I don't lose any time in buying up some of the land.  There are at least two farms that I can get my hands on very cheaply if I move quickly enough.  Anson Grubb is planning to move from the Southfarthing to Michel Delving to live with his daughter now that his wife is dead.  He wants to sell the farm he's been renting out to his cousin Dell for the last twenty years, so that he has a nest egg to help out his daughter and her family when he moves in.  I think my own cousin Cosimo will make a much better tenant.  And old Rollo Boffin passed on last week-- I'm hoping to get the widow to make a quick sale."

"What's the hurry?" Clodio asked.

"Because these chances can slip through our fingers.  My father had the chance to buy a sweet bit of property down Bywater way not long after my grandfather died-- then someone financed the tenants so that they were able to buy it right out from under him!  I've always had my suspicions as to who-- interfering old busybody!"

"Again, what's in it for me?"

Dago snickered.  "I told you he was persistent, Lotho.  Give him the same deal you gave me."

Lotho nodded.  "Your initial investment doubled in the first year, and twenty-five percent of the profits thereafter."

"How can you be certain of doubling the investment?"

Lotho leaned forward.  "Mr. White is smart, but he's one of the Big Folk and he lives very far away and he has very deep pockets.  He's always paid far more than the going rate for his pipeweed purchases.  He takes my word as to the value of his goods."

Dago laughed.  "As my father was fond of saying 'Some people have more money than sense'."

The old saying amused Clodio, and he laughed as well.  Double the investment in a year, would he?  And twenty-five percent after?  Lotho was very confident.  He grinned and reached a hand across the table.  It wouldn't take very long until the Bankses were wealthier than the Tooks...

"You had to know that was sharp dealing, Clodio-- especially taking advantage of a widow!" said Denny.

Clodio hung his head.  "I did not think much about it, Denham.  I was too blinded by greed.  And Lotho was very persuasive.  Then there was Mr. White's factor...

He was annoyed by Dago's letter.  The Bracegirdle had rather high-handedly summoned him to his family's ancestral home-- it was a house and not a smial.  Long and low, it stood impressively at the end of the lane, just south of Hardbottle.  Behind it stretched the fields of the pipeweed that had made the fortune of so many in the South Farthing.  Bracegirdles dealt mostly in Longbottom Leaf, prized by many in the Shire, and surpassed only by Old Toby, which had made the Hornblowers the wealthiest family in the Southfarthing. The Bracegirdles longed to surpass them, but the Hornblowers guarded their secrets most carefully.

At the end of the lane was a gate, and a servant stood there to take his pony. He turned it over and walked up the flagstone path to the wide veranda.  Dago and Lotho were waiting there.  Dago walked over to the top of the shallow steps, his hands in his pockets and a toothy grin on his face.

"Welcome to my humble house," he said with a wink. "We're meeting out here on the veranda, out of convenience for our other colleague."  He gestured behind him and to the left.  There in the shady corner by the window was a small table set with food and drink, around it three chairs and a bench. Lotho lounged in one of the chairs. The occupant of the bench made Clodio sucked in his breath sharply.

It was a Man. A Big Person.  It had been years since Clodio had seen a Man, and then not so close as this one was.  He stood, and Clodio felt a frisson of fear at the creature towering over him.

"Clodio Banks," Dago said, "This is Master Eadwacer of Dunland, the factor of our patron Mr. White."

The Man bent slightly and stuck out one of his large hands.  Clodio was briefly at a loss, until Dago elbowed him slightly and gestured with his own hand.  Clodio held his hand out and it was engulfed by the other.  "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Banks," he rumbled in a deep and growly voice.

Clodio gulped as he took his hand back, and inclined his head.  "A-at your service," he squeaked.

Dago gestured at one of the chairs as the Man resumed his seat on the bench. "Have a seat, Clodio.  We were just about to sample some of the excellent wine Master Eadwacer brought to us from the South."

Clodio noticed an extraordinarily large bottle on the table, as well as goblets and a platter set with fruit and cheese.

"This is a fine red from the vineyards of Lebennin, laid down in the final year of the Steward Ecthelion," said the Man as he pulled the cork. He poured it slowly into Dago's fine crystal goblets.  He picked up one between his thumb and finger-- it looked like a child's toy in his immense hand.  "To profitable business between your people and mine!"  He tossed off the entire amount in one swallow.  

"To profit!" exclaimed Lotho. Clodio raised his glass as well.  To be sure, there was nothing wrong with profit.  The wine was rich and heady, and he drank deeply.  It was superb wine!  Why, if he began to do regular business with these Big Folk, he could have wine like this on his table!  The Thain had nothing like this-- it was finer than Old Winyards!

Lotho encouraged Master Eadwacer to speak of his home and his travels.  He extolled the wisdom and wealth of Mr. White.  "Why he is the councillor to the councillor of a king, and his advice has even been sought by Elves!  He has representatives far and wide who see to his interests and to increasing his fortune. And he sees the potential of the Shire as a place to expand his business; few there are outside this rich land who understand the profit to be made here!  Those few who have been here seem content to allow the Shire to languish in obscurity, even encourage it to cut itself off from the rest of the world!"

Dago nodded.  "If it weren't for Bracegirdles, the only outsiders who'd ever be seen in the Shire would be a few Dwarves and the occasional rag-tag wizard!"

Lotho snorted. "Dwarves! Ha! They are only interested in their own profit, not ours!"

"I can see that you three are intelligent hal-- hobbits," Master Eadwacer said.  "Mr. White is generous to his friends, and those who oppose him are fools."  He poured some more of the wonderful wine...

"Sounds like that Man was right persuasive," said Denny.  "But my Da always says it's not good to make decisions in your cups."

"Your father is right," Clodio sighed.  "But then, I had no idea how far in over my head I was."

Denny rose, and Rolly after him.  "So far as I can see, you fell in with the wrong folks, and when Mr. Freddy asks us what we think, that's what we'll tell him.  We have to take our leave now; I don't know as we'll be back.  But I don't know that we won't neither."

"Thank you for speaking to me," Clodio said quietly.

They nodded to him and went over to rap on the door and let the guard know they were finished.  He came in and took Clodio away.  

As Clodio walked back to his cell, he thought "'Fell in with the wrong crowd'? Oh, I wish it was as simple as that."

Denny and Rolly waited until he was out of sight before they left the little room; a page was waiting to guide them from the Citadel.

"What did you think, Denny?" Rolly asked his older brother.

"I think he's sorry now, when it's too late to change anything.  And I feel sorry for him; he's lost everything-- his name, his home, his family.  All from wanting too much."
______________________________

Mistress Poppy and Viola had been introduced to a number of senior healers before they made their way to another wing of the Houses.  

"This is where we have many of our patients are who are recovering and will soon be sent home," said Mistress Serindë, as she led the way along a marble colonnade to another building.  The passage was open to the gardens on the left, and Viola's heart leapt at the scent of herbs and flowers.  To their right, wide windows had their shutters open, but they were set just a little too high for the hobbits to see inside.  However, they soon came to a set of double doors which opened in to a large room lined with beds.

There were two dozen beds, Viola counted, twelve along each side of the room.  Only eight appeared to be occupied.  Most of the patients were asleep, but one was sitting in a chair next to his bed, as a portly matron with a brisk and cheery manner was putting fresh linens on his bed.  On the other side of the room a young man in healer's garb was leaning over a bed and talking in a low voice to the patient there.  He gave a smile, and patted the patient on the shoulder, before standing up.  When he caught sight of them, his smile grew even wider, and he strode down the center of the room to them.

Viola looked up and saw that Mistress Serindë was smiling, and that her face had brightened.  As he came up and gave a nod of greeting, she said, "Mistress Poppy, may I present Master Thorongil?  He also happens to be my son."

"Thorongil, this is…"

He went down on one knee.  "Mistress Poppy Burrows and Miss Viola Harfoot!  I was in court yesterday, and saw you presented!  It's an honour to meet you!"
__________________________________________

Dago leaned back against the wall behind his cot and put his hands behind his head.  "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Freddy and Berilac sat down on the other cot. Freddy leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his clasped hands.  Berilac, however, mirrored Dago's own insolent pose, and arched an eyebrow at the prisoner, who scowled at him.

"We are here for several reasons, Bracegirdle," said Freddy seriously.  "First of all, we need to know if you are being treated decently."

"Decently?" He barked out a mirthless laugh.  "By whose standards?  If we were in the Shire this would be miserable treatment.  But I suppose compared to those Horse People these Gondorians are treating us decently enough.  At least we are not in some miserable dungeon here.  We are just locked up at the top of a tower instead.  They feed us often enough.  And no one is beating us."

Freddy did not acknowledge the sarcastic tone, but simply nodded.  "Very well, then.  Secondly, we want the answers to a few questions."

"Why not?  No need to keep secrets now."

"When did Lotho approach you about investing in his schemes?"

"In the late fall of 1416.  He said Mr. White had been in touch with him.  We Bracegirdles knew of him as one who would pay well for any goods from the Shire-- especially pipe-weed, but also food crops. My own father and grandfather had dealt with him.  Lotho promised to double my investment the first year and twenty-five percent of the profits in the years after.  It sounded like a good deal, and I accepted it.  He wanted to know if I knew anyone else who'd be interested in the same deal.  I thought of Clodio.  We'd done business several times and I knew he was always looking for a chance to profit.  Lotho said he'd give me an extra five percent the first year if Clodio would join us."

"I see.  What happened next?"

"Lotho introduced us to a Big Person, Mr. White's factor-- a Man named Master Eadwacer.  Arrangements were made at that time to ship five waggon-loads of pipe-weed to the South with the next harvest.  And there was talk of shipping ten waggons the following year, along with the same number of waggons of potatoes and other root vegetables that travel and keep well.  Master Eadwacer paid us half in advance for the 1417 pipe-weed-- at almost thirty percent above the going rate in the Shire for Longbottom Leaf."

"You didn't think that was suspicious?"

"Why should I?" Dago shook his head.  "He was a Man; they aren't known for being particularly bright."

Berilac let out a hoot of laughter.  "Did you really think they were stupid?"

Dago scowled and turned red with anger, and Freddy shook his head.  "That's enough, Beri.  You know that's always been the prevailing opinion of Men in the Shire."

"Not in Buckland," Berilac muttered, but he subsided.

"Tell me, Bracegirdle, why didn't you put a stop to things when Lotho began to bring those rough Men into the Southfarthing?"

"It seemed like a good idea," Dago answered.  "Bring in some strong backs to speed up the harvest and the work."

"I see.  And what did you think when Lotho declared himself 'Chief'?"

"I thought his money had gone to his head; but it wasn't any of my business, so long as I got my return on investment."

"And when Lotho began to turn people out, and to send his Ruffians out to round them up for the Lockholes?"

"I told you it wasn't any of my business!  I had my own neck to look out for!  And Lotho was half-mad by then-- I knew I had to stay on his good side if I wanted to come out with a whole skin."

Freddy sighed, and looked at Berilac.  Then both of them shook their heads.

"That's enough, then." Freddy stood, and so did Berilac.  "Dago Bracegirdle, you were and still are a greedy and selfish fool, but I don't believe you understood your treason.  That's what I will tell the King, for all the good it might do you."
___________________________________________

As they left the Citadel, they found Denny and Rolly waiting for them just outside.

"Well, how did it go, lads?" Freddy asked.

Denny sighed.  "I hate to think such a fool is kin to me," he said. "But I don't think he had any notion it would all go so far.  And he's sorry now."

Berilac shook his head.  "At least he is sorry!  Dago Bracegirdle is only sorry he got caught, and maybe sorry that his profits were cut off!"  He gave a start, and looked across the courtyard.  "Is that Miss Viola?  Excuse me..." He darted off at a trot.

The other hobbits looked at one another.  

"Mr. Berilac's got it bad," said Rolly with a grin.
______________________

After a day of being shown about the Houses of Healing, and answering question after curious question--a tour interrupted twice, for elevenses and luncheon--Mistress Poppy had dismissed her apprentice, who had become somewhat distracted as the day grew longer.

“Won’t you come back to the office and have a cup of tea with me?” Serindë invited her.

The stout little healer gave a sigh as she watched her apprentice hurry off.

“Most certainly, Mistress Serindë. A cup of tea and a few biscuits would be most welcome right now. And I wished to ask you…” The flow of courteous questions continued as they made their way back to the office.

They sat comfortably together, the hobbitess perched upon a couple of cushions, and spoke amiably of the various patients they had visited during the day. Serindë was impressed by her small colleague’s openness and frank curiosity, and she said so.

Poppy laughed. “I’ve spent over thirty years among Tooks! I think a good deal has worn off on me!”

“Your apprentice is a very bright lass.”

“She is. I am hoping that she does not let other things distract her too much as she is nearing the end of her training.”

“Other things?”

“Yes. On our journey here, she caught the eye of young Berilac Brandybuck, and she seems most certainly to return his regard. While I have no problem with that, it does seem to cause her attention to wander from time to time.”

Serindë laughed. “That’s a problem with apprentices everywhere--they are young, and subject to the impulses of youth.”

Poppy responded with a hearty guffaw. “‘Impulses of youth’! Oh, my! What a polite way to put it! Youth is wasted on the young!”

And the two healers grinned at one another in mutual understanding.

Serindë thought that things were looking decidedly up. It was going to be very pleasant to have hobbits around once more.

 
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Back in April of 2008, I made a comment in SurgicalSteel’s LiveJournal, with a snippet about Mistress Poppy meeting Serindë of Dol Amroth.  When I indicated to SS at the time that I might like to use that part in my sequel to “The Road to Edoras” some day, she gave me her blessing.   

However, this Serindë of necessity is AU to her Serindë, and so is not exactly the same person.  The main difference is that this Serindë did not meet Halbarad as a result of a broken ankle, but rather as a result of a wolf bite to the shoulder. Thorongil also belongs to SurgicalSteel, and is at the Houses of Healing at this time.

There are several timeline differences between her universe and mine, but I am trying to keep their personalities consistent with SS.
My thanks to her for the loan of her characters.





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