Chapter 10. Agreement

Silent hobbits of the Thain’s escort came to usher them back to the great room, avoiding the questioning looks of the accused. Haldi, apparently in charge of the escort detail, without meeting anyone’s gaze simply gestured to the doorway, and then the corridor, in an indication of the course they were to follow.

Pippin led the way, head held high, walking with solid steps. He had leapt a bottomless chasm in the darkness of Moria, had been taken captive by Uruk-hai, had wrestled in thought with the Dark Lord – and lost, but not betrayed his friends, had stood against a hill-troll, upon a time. What was a banquet hall full of Tooks, by comparison?

The others took his lead and followed, walking firmly, heads high, eyes straight ahead, even though they were resigned to the doom that surely awaited them.

A murmur came to them as they approached the great hall, reminding Ferdi of the sound of battle, and he had to suppress a shiver. He thought he saw a tremor pass through Pippin at the same time, and wondered what his cousin might be remembering.

The crowd quieted as they entered. Looking to the front of the rows of Tooks, Ferdi saw Rosa, Regi’s wife, in the front row now, and Everard’s Mentha, and that Diamond had taken a seat beside his own Pimpernel, clenching a handkerchief in a white-knuckled hand, though she nodded to acknowledge Pippin’s entrance. Farry stood near his mother, hands fisted at his sides, but otherwise unmoving.

The chairs had been taken away, and so the four who had been accused, and Regi with them, stood where Haldi indicated, to one side of the councillors’ table, to await their fate. Ferdi reached out to either side, finding Tolly’s hand on his right, Pippin’s on his left, and taking firm hold. He was marginally aware of Reginard reaching for and clasping Pippin’s other hand in his own, joining hands with Everard at the end of the line, the five of them forging a living chain.

Erlingar cleared his throat. ‘The Tooks have discussed this situation,’ he said. ‘They have no more questions.’

He paused and seemed to be waiting for some sign. Pippin nodded. The others stood as statues, staring straight ahead.

‘It appears that Ferdibrand and Tolibold, accused of intending harm to the son of the Thain, did not receive the proper restitution as dictated by tradition and custom,’ Erlingar continued. ‘Therefore, the falseness of the accusation against them comes into question. The matter of their guilt was not satisfied in the disposition of their case.’ He swept the room of Tooks with his gaze. Ferdi saw people nodding, but no one spoke. ‘Therefore, the penalty for the offence they were accused of still stands.’ He paused to take a breath. ‘Banishment.’

Even though Ferdi was prepared for this verdict, to hear the word spoken aloud, with such finality, was a blow, and his heart sank within him.

‘Yet Peregrin, and Everard,’ somehow the lack of Pippin’s title sounded all the more ominous in Erlingar’s summation, ‘have admitted to putting forward a false accusation, against these very hobbits.’ He paused again. ‘The penalty for a false accusation is to suffer the same punishment that they would have seen applied to those they accused. In this case,’ Erlingar said, and paused again as if for emphasis, ‘banishment.’

Talk about having your cake and eating it too, Ferdi thought absurdly.

‘And you, Reginard,’ Erlingar said, turning to the small group standing by the councillors’ table. ‘Do you still stand with Peregrin?’

‘I do,’ Regi said stoutly.

‘Very well, then,’ Erlingar said. ‘Five Tooks stand before you, all of whom are under sentence of banishment.’ The onlookers nodded in response.

Ferdi saw that young Faramir, though pale and tense, was gazing fixedly at something. He turned his head slightly to follow the lad’s line of vision, only to see Fortinbrand. Remember what we talked about.

‘So it seems we are obliged to banish these Tooks,’ Erlingar continued in a mild tone. ‘And we conveniently have a convocation of Tooks assembled here to do the honours.’

Ferdi wanted to snap at them all, to demand that they finish this, get it over with, stop tormenting the accused by stretching this out, but somehow he managed to maintain his silence. It would make no difference in the end.

Unexpectedly, Rudigrim spoke up. ‘But what if there were a way to salvage these hobbits from destruction?’

Erlingar turned towards him, evidencing surprise. After all, the convocation had already voted, and lustily, too, considering the power of that roaring Aye! that had sounded all the way to the parlor where the accused hobbits were awaiting their doom. ‘What, indeed?’

‘Restitution,’ Rudigrim said into the echoing silence. ‘Proper restitution, I mean.’

‘How so?’ Erlingar said, as if it were a matter of polite conversation, and not that the fate of five Tooks, and their families, hung on the words being spoken into the silence of the assemblage of hobbits there.

‘What if half of all that Peregrin holds were to be joined to half of all that Everard owns, to be divided between Ferdibrand and Tolibold?’ Rudigrim said, as if he were presenting some theoretical concept of purely esoteric interest. 

Erlingar pulled at his lower lip, eyes lowered in evident thought. Looking up, he said, ‘Interesting.’

It was almost as if the entire room were privy to a confidential conversation between the two councillors. If a tailor or seamstress had brought a pin to the convocation, and then dropped it, the sound of it falling onto the polished floor would have been clearly heard.

‘It seems,’ Erlingar said slowly, as if thinking aloud, ‘that a proper restitution, as you have called it, would satisfy the nature of the accusation against Ferdibrand and Tolibold, as false, I mean...’

‘True,’ Rudigrim said. ‘Then those hobbits would not have to bear the brand, and be cast out, to wander in exile for ever more.’

Ferdi drew a shaking breath and felt Tolly squeeze his hand. He dared not turn his head to look at Tolly, dared not move at all, lest he interrupt this extraordinary exchange.

But Erlingar was not quite finished. ‘And,’ he said, and paused, then went on, ‘Peregrin and Everard, by paying the penalty in the form of a proper restitution, would also satisfy the requirements of Tookish law and tradition.’ As if it were merely an afterthought, he added, ‘And such a course would save Reginard, as well, from following Peregrin into exile, a brand on his cheek. And so law and tradition – and justice – would be served.’

‘Eminently,’ Rudigrim said. ‘At least, that is my reading of the traditions handed down through the years, until the present day.’

‘No,’ Pippin said, wrenching himself free of the living chain and marching to the middle of the table of councillors, coming to stand squarely facing Erlingar. Ferdi’s heart sank to his toes. That baby cousin of his could never seem to let well enough alone. He plainly heard a gasp from the direction of Pimpernel, Meadowsweet and Diamond, Rosa and Mentha, while grumbling arose from the crowd, resembling a warning rumble of distant thunder.

Farry stiffened, standing beside his white-faced mother, his face stricken, mouth making an O of astonishment and dismay.

At least Pippin was observing the proprieties as he consigned them all to banishment... ‘Permission to speak?’ he asked the chief councillor.

Erlingar nodded and tapped his hammer. ‘Granted,’ he snapped, and added, ‘Is it that you don’t care to part with your riches, then?’

Pippin gave him a wintry smile. ‘Leading the witness,’ he said gently.

Erlingar went red in the face but managed to sputter, ‘Say your piece, then, Thain.’ His glare spoke volumes – Pippin was not likely to remain Thain for very much longer at this rate.

But Pippin turned to face the hobbits filling the rows and rows of seats. ‘Seize all of my own personal holdings, if you wish,’ he said, spreading his hands to the sides as far as they would go to encompass the entire amount. ‘Do what you will with them – give them all to Tolibold and Ferdibrand.’

A soft no sounded in the stunned silence. To be honest, Ferdi wasn’t completely certain whether he’d spoken it, or Tolly had, or perhaps both of them had spoken as one. All of Pippin’s holdings... The idea was beyond comprehension. For after the treasury had been found, showers of blessing had arrived from the Outlands in recognition of Pippin's accession to the Thainship: gold and silver, pearls and precious jewels, and more, from Kings and Princes, Men and Elves and Dwarves. Pippin, even without the treasury, likely held as much personal wealth, in Ferdi's estimation, as had been piled up in the hoard of long-dead Smaug of Bilbo's tales, so far as Ferdi could imagine. Perhaps more. He had trouble imagining caverns filled with piles of wealth. But he had seen the reality of Pippin's now-extensive holdings.

It seemed that no matter what the outcome might be, whether they willed it or not, their lives were about to change forever. Exile, versus wealth nearly inconceivable for a Tookish archer of the rank and file. Gone would be the free and easy life they had known, replaced by the burden and responsibility of riches. Pippin’s wealth, since the finding of the treasury and the other events that surrounded it, had continued to mount, almost alarmingly, despite his best efforts to use it well to the benefit of others. Ferdi and Tolly could look forward to the same. But our lives will be changed in any event, a small voice in the back of Ferdi’s mind said.

But Pippin wasn’t done speaking. ‘The treasury, however,’ he said, and he moved his hand in a sweeping gesture that included all the hobbits in the great room, and beyond. ‘Although it bears the name treasure-hoard of the Thain, it belongs to the Tooks. To the Tookland.’ His eyes seemed to look into a far distance as he added, ‘It never belonged to me. It is the result of generations of labours of Tooks and their descendants after them.’

His eyes returned from that far distance, to survey the hobbits sitting before him. He added quietly, ‘It is not mine, and never will be.’ With a decisive nod, he said, ‘Take all that is truly mine, if need be.’ He turned back to the table of councillors to await his fate.

Ferdibrand had seldom seen a Took at a loss for words, but now he beheld an entire roomful of such wonders. Pippin’s strained breathing sounded clearly in the absolute silence that had fallen on the room. The councillors sat at their table as still as sun-struck Trolls for a long moment, and no rustle of clothing or shuffle of feet or even a cough or sniffle was to be heard from the ranks of closely packed benches, as if all the hobbits there had been put under a spell.

Pip has that effect on people sometimes, Ferdi thought incongruously.

At last Erlingar shook his head as if coming out of a dream, and tapped his hammer, though no one was making any sort of noise, much less commotion. He looked down one side of the councillors’ table, then turned his head to survey the line of councillors to his other side.

He cleared his throat, and Ferdi, feeling lightheaded, was suddenly reminded to take a breath. ‘I think,’ the chief councillor said slowly. He cleared his throat again, more vigorously, and spoke a little louder. ‘I think that we need take no vote on this amendment to the judgement to be rendered.’ He looked up and down the table again, as if to fully gauge the nods of the other councillors. ‘Peregrin and Everard will hereby pledge and provide an accounting to this Council regarding half of what each...’ he looked directly at Pippin as he said, ‘personally,’ and then swept the roomful of Tooks with his gaze as he continued, ‘owns, in the form of goods or property or the equivalent in coin,’ and despite the fact that he was speaking the words that tradition demanded, with the slight modification that Pippin had introduced, words that required the utmost gravity in their pronouncement, he smiled a little as he went on, ‘to be divided equally between Ferdibrand and Tolibold, to demonstrate their own remorse for their actions and to establish the latter’s innocence in the matter of the false accusation.’

Ferdi stood like a statue, his hand clenching – and clenched in – Tolly’s hand, and it was as if the both of them must hold on for dear life, like two drowning hobbits, yet at the same time too stunned to move or speak or even breathe.

Erlingar then nodded to himself and raised his voice to address the roomful of Tooks. ‘It seems a reasonable request,’ he said. ‘I do not think we need to seclude and exclude the accused as we take another vote – in fact, I do not think further discussion or a vote will be necessary – unless someone has a strong objection?’ He banged his hammer, once, definitively. ‘If any object to this change, sound your Nay! loud and clearly now, or hold your peace ever after.’

He waited the requisite three breaths for a shout of disagreement, though Ferdi doubted any of the hobbits on trial were breathing at that moment. He certainly wasn’t.

Erlingar tapped the hammer again, a single, light tap. ‘Next item,’ he said.

Caught in the middle of taking a restorative breath, Ferdi choked. The proceedings were interrupted whilst he fought the paroxysm of coughing that followed as a blur of hobbits slapped his back and he instinctively recoiled from the reek of smelling salts for yet another time that day, raising a hand in self-defence.

At last he was settled in a chair again, that had mysteriously materialised behind him, steady breathing re-established, his relative calm marred only by the fact that Healer Woodruff stood behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

He heard Erlingar say, ‘Where were we?’ and Fortinbrand answer, ‘Next item.’

‘Ah yes,’ Erlingar affirmed. ‘And this is the final item that the Tooks must agree upon.’

‘Finally,’ Tolly muttered, raising his hand to wipe at his face. Woodruff’s hands tightened momentarily on Ferdi’s shoulders, but she said nothing, and none of the councillors nor the Querier rebuked the erring hobbit. Perhaps they felt much the same.

‘Seeing it was gossip – the Talk of the Tooks – that set this whole miserable business in motion in the first place,’ Erlingar said, and his gaze pinned young Faramir, still standing by Diamond. Under that unnerving regard, the lad stood straighter, but his expression remained set, determined somehow, perhaps, thought Ferdi as if in a dream, perhaps resembling his father Pippin, standing upon a grey mound surrounded by grim warriors, tall and fair, as arrows poured into their ranks and a wave of hill-trolls broke upon them.

‘It was idle – but ill-natured, nay, even cruel – Talk that drove the lad to run away,’ Erlingar said. ‘A courageous move on his part!’ Ferdi could see surprise on the watching faces that mirrored his own, but the councillor continued. ‘Who among you would exile himself, thinking to spare his parents grief – even if that thinking was flawed, the thinking of a little child, to whom it seemed that all the Talk was against him? Why,’ he said, his voice suddenly lower, ‘grown Tooks have left the Great Smials on less provocation, swearing never to return.’

There was a pause then, broken only by the subtle shifting of bodies and shuffling of feet as the listeners remembered the names of Smials Tooks who had left the Smials for one reason or another. Mostly not for happy reasons. Pippin had been one of them, in fact, though he had returned to take up the office of Thain.

‘And so this Council proposes,’ Erlingar said, and swept the hobbits who had been accused, and now tried, with his glance, ‘and we would include all in this vote, that regarding this matter, the Talk stops. Here. And now. No more gossip about Faramir Took running away and shaming his parents. No more vicious and harmful Talk about the loyal hobbits of the Thain’s escort conspiring against that hobbit for the sake of gold.’ He paused and scanned the rows of spectators, his glance pausing deliberately here and there. ‘No smoke without fire,’ he said, his tone heavy with irony.

‘They’ll have plenty enough gold now, no need to conspire,’ Sandovar said, but Erlingar stared him to silence.

‘Be that as it may,’ the chief councillor said, emphasising each word, ‘Any Talk of the sort that comes to the ears of these councillors will be weighed and measured, and if it seems fitting, the hobbit or hobbits will be charged and tried for false accusation and will pay the requisite penalty of half their holdings,’ his eyes swept the room, settling on the hobbits on trial. ‘To be divided among those who are vindicated today.’

*** 

The rest of the convocation passed in a blur. Ferdi was scarcely aware of anything else that was said, only that at one point he was prompted to stand up from his chair to hear the final verdict, that there was another thundering Aye! from the assembled Tooks as they approved the recommendations of the Council, followed by a final definitive-sounding rap from Erlingar’s hammer. 

He came back to himself, somehow sensing the nearness of his beloved Pimpernel, and realised that she was standing before him, lifting her hand to his face but not quite touching him, her eyes questioning. He raised his hand to hers, pressed her palm against his cheek that would not be subject to a branding iron this day, and closed his eyes at the feel of her touch. ‘My Nell,’ he said, his voice failing him as he spoke her name. ‘Nell,’ he repeated, and for some reason needed to take a breath that came out as a gasping sob – but he added as firmly as he could manage, though he scarcely recognised the sound of his own voice, ‘my own.’ 

She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. ‘O my love,’ she whispered into his shirt. Feeling her trembling against him, he gathered her close and, eyes still closed, simply held on.

There was a babble of voices around them, and he was jostled, and then someone took him by the arm. He would have resisted, but then Haldegrim’s voice sounded in his ear. ‘Come, cousin,’ the escort said. ‘Let’s get you to a quieter place.’ He thought he heard Woodruff speaking to Nell in the same moment, and opened his eyes to a blur of motion as Haldi put an arm around his shoulders and gently urged him forward. ‘Nell,’ he protested, but then he felt her slip her hand into his palm, and he was content to follow Haldi’s prompting.

He lost some time, it seemed, for in the next moment he realised he was seated again, in the same soft chair in the parlour where they had waited to hear their fate, his feet propped up once more. The parlour seemed much more crowded now from the sound of it, though Ferdi’s blurred vision took in only his immediate surroundings. Nell sat on one arm of his chair, her arms around him, and Woodruff crouched before him. ‘...your head, Ferdi?’

‘I...’ he said, but didn’t seem able to form words.

Woodruff frowned and looked aside. ‘Mardi,’ she said, ‘if you’ve quite finished rejoicing over your brother’s restoration, I do believe Ferdi belongs in a bed.’

‘I am well,’ Ferdi protested, nestling into Pimpernel’s embrace and slipping his arm around her in response. ‘It’s just... it has been a lot to take in.’

‘You can say that again,’ he heard Tolly say, and his brother Mardi laughed, though Ferdi could still hear the strain in the older hobbit’s merriment, as if Tolly's healer brother could barely credit that Tolly was sitting there with his wife and all his brothers surrounding him, that the whole miserable affair had been concluded in a way that did not end with his younger brother’s banishment, along with four more stalwarts amongst the Tooks.

‘But don’t say it,’ Woodruff countered hastily. ‘Save your breath, Ferdi. In fact, I’d like you to take deep breaths now. In... out...’ She raised her voice slightly. ‘And you, too, Thain. Steady breaths.’

‘Steady breaths all around,’ Everard was heard to say. ‘Why not?’ His following laughter was tinged with a note of unbelieving wonder.

‘So, Tolly,’ he heard Mardibold say. ‘How does it feel to be one of the richest hobbits in the Shire?’

Tolly, true to form, simply replied, ‘I can think of worse troubles.’

***