Note to readers: Here is a bit of restful reading for the weekend. Too bad you won't find the same mood over in the chapter of "Merlin" that I just posted... however, if you find angst relaxing, then "Merlin" ought to suit you just fine.

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24. Remembering

Ferdi carved no boat for this Remembering Day, but he went out with the Tooks anyhow, to sing, to share, to watch, and to walk back, singing, to the feast in the great hall. Tolly saved him a place at the table far from the hearth, and he nodded thanks as he seated himself.

He didn't have much to say, applying himself to the food as the hobbits around him remembered loved ones now gone beyond the Sundering Seas, but a grumble caught his ear and he found himself listening.

'...ought to have been here, not in Buckland. I ask you, is he even a Took anymore? Spends more time with the Bucklanders than with his own folk.'

'Pity the poor lad, the Thain'll work his fingers to the bone when he comes of age and has to come back here...'

'He's not a lad, he'll be Thain someday, and it's about time they put the jesses on him, stopped letting him fly so wild and free... he's got responsibilities and it's time he learned them.'

Ferdi met Tolly's eye and shook his head. He worked for the Thain, now, one of his most trusted hobbits, part of the Thain's escort, and loyalty dictated that he say no word against the Thain or his family. He'd keep his opinions to himself, thank you very much.

Tolly lifted a wry corner of his mouth and turned his attention back to his plate. That was one of the good things about Tolly; he didn't mind silence, didn't have to shoot his opinions into the target at the least inclination, just kept them in his quiver until they were called for.

Ferdi didn't have much of a Yule, but this was something he was used to. A holiday where much of the action took place near a blazing giant log, now... it was nearly a pleasure to dance attendance upon his father, in Ferdinand's rooms, sipping hot cider, eating spice biscuits, talking quietly about what the new year might bring.

Ferdinand was more animated than Ferdi'd seen him in a long time. He was proud of his son, who'd nearly won the tournament this year. (You could have taken that shot... why didn't you, you fool of a Took? Could have shown them all!)

Ferdinand was proud, too, of his son's position on the Thain's escort, a hand-picked few, who had to prove themselves to be chosen, and to stay on the job as well. (The Thain, he knows quality when he sees it. Sure a pity that Rosemary's husband Hally won't move to the Smials, fine archer, that one, he'd be tapped for escort for sure...)

All in all, it was the best Yule Ferdi'd spent with his da in years, though he couldn't help thinking that, if things were different, he'd have passed the holiday in the warmth of his sister's home, surrounded by his nephews and nieces, whittling in companionable silence with the woodcarver as they waited for the old year to slip out and the new year to arrive, waiting to see who'd have "first footing" this year. The first neighbor to set foot over the threshhold was always welcomed with beer, bread, pouch of pipeweed, and a silver coin, all meant to bring blessing in the new year. The year Ferdi'd gone "first footing" he'd come home with quite a haul...

Midsummer came, and Pippin with it. There was a great celebration in the Smials the day he came of age. Actually, it was a three-day celebration, and with all the visiting relatives it seemed as if the entire Shire had come to share the joy. At the birthday dinner, there were speeches, and songs, and toasts, and more than once Pippin had to duck his head and blush while his father roared with laughter at a jest or jibe.

Ferdi, of course, made no jibes, but he enjoyed the feast, and the free-flowing ale that came with it, even if he had to sit across the table from a bunch of drunken Brandybucks and listen to their jokes about the Tooks.

After the actual birthday dinner on the third day, there was a bonfire by the racecourse. Ferdi took himself off, of course, walking in the comforting darkness under the stars. He was surprised, then, to hear Pippin's voice behind him.

'Cousin?' Pippin said.

He turned. 'Why aren't you at the celebration? Won't they miss you?'

'Of course they will,' Pippin said. 'I cannot stay long. But I must needs seek you out where you are to be found.'

'Seek me out?' Ferdi asked, puzzled.

'I have a gift for you,' Pippin said.

'You didn't have to do that,' Ferdi said.

'I wanted to,' Pippin answered. 'I've spent a lot of time with Merry, and he... he took me to task over a few things.'

Ferdi remained silent. Good for Merry.

Pippin stumbled over his words. 'I... I've treated you shabbily, Ferdi, too busy over my own affairs to pay you any mind, and after you always looked out for me, all these years...' He took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. 'Merry said... he said...'

'What?' Ferdi asked quietly.

'O, it doesn't matter what he said,' Pippin answered miserably, 'only that I'm in the wrong, and I owe you an apology, and I've come to ask your forgiveness.'

'Nothing to forgive,' Ferdi answered. 'You're the son of the Thain, you've no need to apologise to me for your actions. I'm just a hired hobbit, after all.'

'No!' Pippin cried, his voice anguished. 'You're my cousin, more, you were always a brother to me who had only sisters for company.' He drew a shaky breath and Ferdi had the horrified notion that he might start to weep. 'You were always there when I needed you, but you cannot say the same of me. Please, Ferdi... forgive me.'

Ferdi looked up at the comforting stars, so fixed in their courses; dependable, they were. He took a deep breath, and turned to this wild cousin of his, on whom the hood would soon descend, the jesses tie him to the earth, and to his surprise, he found pity replacing his resentment.

'I forgive you, cousin,' he said, holding out his hand. Pippin took it, and they clasped hands there in the darkness, renewing the bond of friendship between them.

Then Pippin exclaimed, 'O!'

'What?' Ferdi said, amused.

'I nearly forgot!' He fumbled at his belt. 'Here, my birthday present.'

'A knife?' Ferdi asked.

'It was given to me in Gondor, by my best friend there. I want you to have it.'

Ferdi was touched. 'I... I don't know what to say,' he said.

'Thank you would be appropriate,' Pippin answered with some asperity.

'Thank you,' Ferdi said obediently, and Pippin laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

'You're welcome. Now, can you give me a present?'

'On your birthday?' Ferdi was scandalised.

'Aye, on my birthday!' Pippin laughed. 'Yours is too far away and I want my present now!'

'What did you want?' Ferdi asked, bemused.

'I want your company... could you stand being at the bonfire? Just this once?'

Ferdi hesitated, and Pippin added in a low voice, 'I know, it's asking an awful lot.'

'It is,' Ferdi said bleakly, but forced a smile. 'But seeing as it's your birthday...'

'Come on!' Pippin said, and Ferdi could hear the delighted grin in his voice. He threw an arm about Pippin's shoulders, and his cousin supplied an answering arm. Together, the two of them walked back to the bonfire, and there they sang, and drank, and swapped stories with the rest of the celebrating relatives until the fire burned down to ashes in the light of the wakening Sun.