Chapter 4. A Conspiracy is Formed

Farry woke suddenly, some premonition of disaster tickling at the back of his neck. He did not move; he did not even open his eyes, but lay quiet in his bed, listening to the darkness around him. Hard lessons in caution had been drilled into him, in his short life. Taken by murderous ruffians intent on his father’s gold, somehow his body had learnt to transition from sleep to wakening without a jerk or snort or sudden sitting up or any of the other normal awakening behaviours. He could move from dream to full alertness in the blink of an eye – though his eyes did not actually blink, not unless he willed them to do so.

There was only the soft breathing of his minder. No sound came from a wakeful younger brother or sister. Farry breathed as softly as possible, stretching his ears to their limits. There was no whispery sound of a servant moving in the little sitting room off the bedrooms, to light a fire or lay breakfast ready for the sleeping family. No murmur was to be heard from his parents’ room. It must be very late.

He arose, creeping as softly as a hobbit could through the shadowy suite of rooms. It was indeed very late – glancing into his parents’ room, he saw them curled together, making one mound in the bed, his mother’s head on his father’s breast, his father’s arm holding her close, his mother snoring softly and his father – like Farry, body having learnt caution through hard experience – breathing silently, and slumbering so deeply that he was not even murmuring in his sleep as he did when restless for some reason or other, something Diamond liked to tease him about.

He went back to his room to retrieve the clothing his minder had laid out for him, ready for morning, though he took these into the sitting room to slip them on. Minders were notoriously light sleepers, and he didn’t want to be stopped with questions, sent back to bed, not even if it meant a treat of warmed milk with honey and a little nutmeg to sip upon, and a biscuit or two to nibble.

For the warning thrummed in him still, urging him to hurry about his business – and what would that business be?

At least he was fairly confident that no ruffian could penetrate the Great Smials. They’d have to get past the King’s Men who guarded the Bounds, and then the Bounders, and then the Tooks… No, he shook his head at himself. He felt in no danger of being taken by ruffians again. Though he drew a deep breath of relief, the tense feeling did not resolve.

Dressed now, he ghosted down the corridor to the public sitting room, past the guest rooms and Sandy’s room and the room set aside for a healer on watch, in times when his father was ill or his mum was expecting; past the little kitchen, pantry, and butler’s pantry, through the large sitting room and entryway, and still the thread of inexplicable tension drew him on.

He eased open the door to the main corridor. No hobbit of escort stood on duty there, so it was before six o’ the clock. In the time of the Troubles, of course, there had been a messenger standing there no matter what time of day or night, but in these peaceful times, Farry’s father had decreed that the hobbits of escort deserved to sleep at night just as much as the Thain did, and so there'd be one of them to be found outside the Thain’s quarters early in the morning until after late supper (not the same one the whole time, of course), and another would stand outside the Thain’s study when Pippin or one of his helpers was working there.

His sense of urgency was growing, as if he raced against time. He closed his eyes and listened with all that was in him, then shook his head, opened his eyes again, and began to walk through the dimly lit corridors, though he didn’t know where he was going, or why it might be important. It occurred to him that he might be sleep-walking, as he’d heard Uncle Merry talk about with his Da; he’d seemed to find it a great joke, though Cousin Berilac had not laughed with the rest at the time.

No hobbits were about; it was very early. Why, there wasn’t even the good smell of baking in the air, which meant that it was not yet two o’ the clock, when the bakers would begin the business of baking the breads for early breakfast. It must be just past middle night (as there had not been a feast or fancy dance, there would have been late supper but no midnight supper), but not quite bakers’ rising.

Farry realised that he was nearly to one of the lesser outer doors (not the Great Door, of course) when he felt a draught and a smell of rain washed over him. What could it be?

Something prompted him to hurry forward, to the doorway itself. The door stood open, and peeping around the frame he saw a small figure, somewhat smaller than himself, hesitating under the overhang.

‘Goldi!’ he breathed, and the figure jumped and turned on him, eyes blazing in the light of the torches in the courtyard, not yet quenched in the soft falling mist.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I might ask you the same,’ Farry answered.

‘Keep your voice down!’

‘Or what?’

‘Someone might hear!’

‘And that would be a bad thing? What are you doing?’

Goldi drew herself up as tall as she could – which was still half a head shorter than Faramir, but she still managed to look down her nose at him, remarkably like Reginard the Steward. ‘I can’t tell,’ she said.

‘Can’t?’ Farry said. ‘Is aught amiss with your memory? Were you walking in your sleep, and wakened to find yourself here?’

‘You think you’re so smart,’ she said haughtily.

‘Then it’s more won’t than can’t, I gather,’ Farry said, ‘and you’re out here a-purpose, and not on accident,’ and she seemed taken aback, and then looked at him with growing respect.

‘You know more than I gave you credit for,’ she said.

Farry shrugged. ‘I know little enough,’ he said, ‘but I’m good at guessing.’

‘I suppose you might be,’ she allowed.

‘And I’m guessing…’ he looked at her more closely: fully dressed, like himself, and hood and cloak over all, and a muffler wrapped around her neck for good measure, against the chill of middle night. ‘You’re running away?’

‘To, rather,’ she said.

‘To,’ he echoed, squinting his eyes, the better to think. ‘To… ‘ and the truth struck him, and his mouth opened in astonishment for a moment, and then he stammered the rest. ‘To… to Gondor?’

She put her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. ‘Well, now,’ she said. ‘You are, as you said, a good guesser. And now I think you can guess what I’ll say to you next…’

He nodded. ‘You’ll ask me to go back to bed, and pretend I never saw you, for it’s for the best.’

She nodded back at him, but he shook his head. ‘More fool you, if I do.’

She frowned. ‘I don’t take your meaning.’ She looked out into the dark, falling mist and said, ‘But time is wasting. The bakers will be up soon enough, and after that the dairymaids, and I must be well away before any of them come along…’

Farry reared back to scrutinise the lass, and then when she would have turned away he grabbed at her arm. ‘Speaking of bakers,’ he said in a meaningful tone.

She rolled her eyes and tried to pull free. ‘I’ve no time for this!’ she hissed.

Farry held firm and insisted that she hear him out. ‘I’ve done a bit of running away… running to, in my day,’ he said, and that was enough to stop her, and she cocked her head, and he could tell she was listening now, and not just impatient to get away.

‘You don’t have any food with you,’ he went on. ‘Not that I can see, anyhow.’

Goldi’s mouth opened in astonishment of her own, and her expression changed from impatience to chagrin. ‘I…’ she said, and gulped, suddenly deflating. ‘I hadn’t thought of that…’

Farry was thinking furiously. He knew Goldi all too well… If she were to manage to secure a loaf or a few breadrolls, she’d be off for certain, and no one the wiser until the morning, when she’d be missed, and who knew what might befall her in the dark hours before a search could even be mounted?

He knew very well that if he told the grown-ups and they intervened, she would desist for a time… but she’d bide her time, and slip away at the first opportunity. She was that stubborn. Just as he had been, upon a time.

Someone needed to take charge of this situation, and now.

‘You had better go back to bed,’ he said, and held up a staying hand as she bridled. ‘No, hear me out. Running away is a serious business, as I can tell you from bitter experience. It’s clear to me that you don’t know much about such matters. You need help.’

‘Help?’ she said, bewildered. Then her eyes flashed in understanding, and she repeated, challenge in her tone, ‘Help? Whose help? Yours, I suppose?’

‘Someone with intelligence is needed in the party,’ Faramir said, echoing something his da had said upon a time.

‘That leaves you out, I’m sure,’ Goldi snapped.

‘No,’ Faramir said. ‘I know how this kind of thing works. You can afford to wait a day or two, at least for dry weather…’ He was encouraged to see her nod. ‘And in the meantime, you can be collecting foodstuffs to take along with you…’ He wondered if Goldi realised just how far it was to Gondor, and how quickly she’d go through any amount of food she’d be able to spirit away and carry.

‘Ye – es,’ she said slowly, nodding as she considered.

‘And I think you ought to take a travelling companion,’ Farry went on. ‘Someone to keep watch while you’re sleeping.’

‘And who would keep watch while you’re sleeping, pray tell?’

And Farry drew a quick breath at the speed and depth of her understanding. ‘Why,’ he said with a grin. ‘You will, of course!’