Pansy: Ah, yes, I am being literal. Getting more literal with each chapter, as you shall see.

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Xena: Thanks for the feedback, especially the comments on your perception of the relationships. That is exactly what I am trying to establish... Pippin is a great father, taking all the good points of his own father and trying to leave the bad. (Don't we all do that?) And Diamond has never been one to keep her thoughts to herself, and they are usually pretty well-formulated thoughts, the lass has a fine head on her shoulders and was brought up right by sensible Farmer and Mistress Took (see "Jewels" for more details).

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Dana: Thanks for helping me hammer out that wording. The Thain would never sound whiny, even in jest.

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Frodo: Thanks for the encouragement!

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Did I miss anybody? Thanks for the reviews, they have greased the wheels nicely. Or should I say added fuel to the fire?

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14. ...Great Wildfires Grow

The root of the old stump thickened, providing more fuel for the fire to chew on, and soon a real feast presented itself. The root crossed and was crossed by other roots, for many trees grew there, sending roots to seek the water of the stream. Some of the wood was dead and dry, some green and living, stubbornly resisting the fire, but burning after enough time and heat were applied. The fire grew many fingers and spread itself, still hidden beneath the ground, but growing, seeking, moving ever closer to the air that would fan it to bright blazing life.

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The cow with the crooked horn had strayed again, and Blossom had been sent in search. She found hoofprints in the dust, leading towards the little stream where her brothers liked to play, and smiled. A tuft of shaggy hair on a tree at the lip of the valley confirmed her guess. 'Crumpet!' she called. 'Come along, old lass! Why do you wander in the wood when I've so much work to do and no time to be chasing an old carline?' There was no answer, but she fancied she heard the tinkle of the cow's bell, so she followed the path into the wood, and down to the stream.

'Crumpet!' she called again, and was rewarded by a lowing sound, and the shaggy brown shape of the hobbit-sized hillcow came into sight down by the sparkling stream. Skipping forward, she ran to the beast and seized one of the horns. 'There you are!' she scolded, but the gentle eye regarded her calmly and the head rubbed against her hand, and she couldn't help but laugh. 'No, I won't give you a carrot,' she said, trying to be stern, but spoiling it with a smile. 'Not until after we get back to the byre, anyhow.'

Her nose wrinkled and she sniffed. What was that smell? Nothing she'd smelled by the stream lately, at least, not since their da had scolded the lads for having fires down in their play-place in this dry weather. She went to the fire circle and held her hand above the blackened wood. No heat. She cautiously touched the wood and ashes, and finding none, gingerly raked her fingers through to find no trace of heat. No fire had been there in quite awhile, from the way the ashes blew apart under her touch. She rubbed the black from her fingers on the grass and frowned. The ground felt... warm, somehow. The smoky smell was growing stronger.

Just then the cow rolled her eye and tossed her head, with a worried sound low in her throat. Blossom stood and quickly grabbed at the horn again. 'Steady, old girl,' she said. 'It's all right...' her eye was caught by motion above, and she looked up to see smoke in the sky. As she watched, the old stump smoked more vigorously, and suddenly flames burst from the top, some feet above her head. 'O no,' she gasped. Grasping the shaggy hair of the cow, she pulled herself onto the beast's back and kicked it hard with her heels.

'Home, Crumpet!' she cried, and a little of her panic was transmitted to the cow. Old Crumpet began to lumber up the slope, gathering speed as the smell of smoke grew stronger, achieving an awkward gallop when she emerged from the wood, heading as quickly as her shaggy legs would take her to the safety of her byre.

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A stable lad brought a panting farm lad at a run to the Thain's study, bursting through the door without knocking. Before any could reprimand them, they both burst out with "Fire!"

The Thain was on his feet in an instant. 'Where?' he snapped. From the lads' panic it must be bad.

'Tookbank Farm,' the farm lad gasped. 'In the bottomland just by Tookbank. My da and my brothers are fighting it but 'tis too big and spreading fast. We've roused the hobbits of Tookbank but we need more.'

'Which way is the wind blowing?' the Thain demanded sharply.

The farm lad took a deep breath. 'Towards Tookburough,' he said, dread in his eyes. 'I rode as fast as the pony would go... Da said if the afternoon winds kick up it'll roar right over the hills to the Smials.' The Great Smials itself would not be much affected, but the wood and stone structures of Tookburough with their roofs of thatch would be devastated, hundreds of hobbits left homeless.

'How many farmsteads between Tookbank and here?' Pippin asked.

'Three,' the Steward answered.

'The farmers are out plowing firebreaks around their buildings,' the lad said, 'but the fire will come across the bottoms; it was crowning in the treetops when I left, and sparks were blowing into the fields.'

'Everard?' the Thain said. The steward's brother had been reporting to the Thain on the engineers' work with the black powder, but he knew the farms around Tookland like the fur on his feet.

'It'll come across the fields and the bottoms; we'll have to have a wide line to stop it. Plowing firebreaks should go quickly enough, but in the trees... clearing underbrush takes time...'

'We don't have time,' Reginard said. 'If the winds kick up...'

'They will, in a matter of hours,' the Thain said.

'Black powder,' Everard broke in. The others looked at him, dumbfounded. 'It burns fast and hot,' he said, his words spilling out faster in his excitement. 'We can use it to set backfires, burn out the brush in the bottoms before the fire gets here, fell the trees in the firebreak, let the backfire burn them, rake the ground bare. Deny it the fuel and you'll stop it.'

The Thain and Steward went to the map on the wall, though they knew the country intimately. 'Where?' Pippin said.

Everard moved to his side. 'If it's too close to the head of the fire, flames will jump the break before it's finished,' he said.

'Where, then?' Pippin said. His experience with brush fires was wielding a pick or shovel under someone else's direction.

Everard hesitated, then placed a finger on Tuckborough, moved slowly back towards Tookbank, not far enough, really, and stopped.

'That close?' the Thain gasped.

The last ridge before the Smials. If the fire jumped the break, there would be no more chances; the flames would race up the great hill and over and into Tuckborough faster than any pony could run.

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Author's Note: Crumpet is a fine specimen of Highland Cattle, a small breed of cow known for gentleness, bred for both milk and meat. "Carline" is Scots for "old woman", or so I'm told on good authority. No, hobbits aren't Scottish, last I heard, but it is a charming little word. (Thanks, Cerridwen for supplying the word! O... and while we're at it, check out her stories.)