A/N : My premise for this story is yes, the simple and pleasurable life of living in the country, or a small village. Mostly though, it's about what the old farmer said in my earlier note. Here I've also explored my banner of It takes a village to raise a child. In this story you'll see a neighbor taking care of another person's child; something quite prevalent way back yonder in them days...
When I was a child, my playmates were my siblings and friends in the neighborhood, but in the rural country the next house could be miles away. Playmates yes, but even more so, I wanted to explore friendship between these rural siblings, and the Tooks in Whitwell were a grand idea. More specifically, Pippin and Pervinca were the best choice, as they are the youngest and close in age. Children are always fun to write about! Hope you enjoy...
FOUR - The Hay Rope
Pippin had to step onto the lowest board of the gate in order to reach over the barrier so he could unhook the same latch his father had so easily undone earlier. Pervinca took a long rod that leaned up against the wall and prodded the cows through the pony stalls and out towards the pasture. For this next task they both pulled on dwarf-sized boots; no one dared walk far into the pens or stalls barefoot.
Pippin went outside to the other side of the barn to get the 'special' wheelbarrow. Pervinca grabbed the two shovels and two pairs of leather gloves from the tool area; the same area where the pitchforks and rakes were kept. They'd eventually need these tools as well.
Once the animal waste was collected and dumped into the wheelbarrow, Pippin hauled it quite a ways out towards the far side of the fence--barely breathing as he did so. When he got to the place kept for such things, he put the barrow down. He took the shovel that was kept away out here and began scooping the contents out of the barrow and onto the mound of manure already piling. Not his most favorite chore; in fact, he hated this one with a passion. Paladin used the cow chips and pony apples for the fields; he even mixed in certain bits of decomposed food to enhance the properties of his 'home made' mixture.
Pervinca's task wasn't as bad, but not much better than Pippin's. While he was out here, she was back in the barn raking the soiled hay out of the pony stalls and the cow pen. Once their less-than-desirable tasks were completed, the next thing was to spread out fresh hay.
Pippin climbed up to the bales of straw in the loft. The bales were still high up towards the second level from the winter stores. He knocked a dozen bales to the ground below. There, Pervinca used a knife to cut the cord that was tied around the straw. Both children used rakes to spread it out among the stalls and pen.
"That's done," Pippin said with a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his brow. The late April sun warmed up the Shire as it rose high into the sky. Pippin had long ago shirked his hat and jacket. Now was the time for their favorite part of the day.
Up they climbed the stationary ladder. Up they climbed...to the loft on the second level. It was dank and dusty up here. Nothing else was lying about except the straw and a long wooden stick with a dull hook on one end. Pippin picked it up and held it out over the bales of hay that lay below. From the highest rafter was tied a long sturdy rope while the length of it fell just a few feet lower than the level of the loft. He looked at the drop; it looked to be about twenty feet or so. He pulled the rope in with the hook and grabbed onto it. He grasped the rope firmly with both hands, and closed his eyes.
"Pippin! I go first, remember?"
Pippin opened his eyes; now he remembered--her dress. He yielded the rope to his sister. Girls!
She seemed frozen in terror as she held onto the rope and looked down. But Pippin knew better; she was calculating the distance. The Hay Rope is what he really thought was fun about his sister. Pervinca was a high-spirited young girl; full of life and impending Tookish adventures--though most of her ventures would be limited to the farm and Great Smials.
Pervinca let go of the rope and walked back several yards. With a running start, she grasped the rope and swung out over the bales of hay and at her highest arc, she let go. Down she sailed, landing atop the softened hay, and then laughing as she got up for another round.
Not to be out done by a lass, Pippin reared back much the same way. He was in a full sprint as he snagged the rope and swung out. Pippin let himself glide into a summersault and swing back and forth a couple times. Just as his feet were on a downward arc, he let go, squealing with delight as he plunged down to the hay.
They jumped from the hay rope several times each before they heard their mother calling them in for lunch. Both children worked up voracious appetites while climbing the ladder and swinging from the rope. Out of the barn they ran with smiles on their glowing faces as the thought of food erased all else from their minds.
FIVE - A Helping Hand
With lunch over, Eglantine made her children sit quietly and read a book for an hour before she'd let them out of her sights. She feared too much activity too soon would upset their stomachs.
The only chore left for Pippin and Pervinca to do was to fill the troughs and bring water in to the smial for cooking and wash basins. After this, they'd be free for the rest of the day--until supper. The children each took two large buckets from just inside the barn door and carried them to the well located on the other side of the smial.
Pippin had an idea, "Let's use the wheelbarrows to carry the buckets, Pervinca."
"No, Pip," the girl rolled her eyes, "we did that last week and ended up spilling more than we got." She set her buckets down in front of the well, squinting in the sunlight. "Besides," she said, "the wheelbarrow only holds one bucket at a time."
"But that's all I can carry, too."
Pervinca sighed. Her young brother had just turned nine, and was still the height of a small eight-year-old. "Go ahead, Pippin, or better yet--why don't you take your buckets to the smial while I take mine to the troughs?" The kitchen door to the smial was far closer than the troughs inside the barn. Though a bit slight herself, Pervinca could handle the water-laden buckets much easier than her little brother. "I'll be fine!" She said when she saw his worried look.
She next took hold of the handle on the winding rod and lowered the water bucket permanently tied to the rope until she heard a faint splash. It took two of these to fill up one trough bucket. She filled up both of Pippin's buckets before taking a breather. She sat down in the shade and watched him swagger up the walkway. When he returned for his second bucket, she then got up and filled her own.
When she got halfway between the well and the barn, her arms became so tired she nearly dropped one of the buckets. Water splashed onto the fur on top of her foot. Slowly and carefully she placed both buckets on the ground. She crouched down to rest and rub her arms.
"Come on, Pervinca," Pippin came up from behind her and took the handle of one of her buckets, "it's not far now." He struggled a little, but he had sure footing and began walking in the direction of the barn.
"Pippin," She said, knowing he was already tired, "...you don't have to...."
"Don't waste time, lass," he looked back and winked, "or we'll be late for the games!"
The games! That was enough to renew the girl's strength. She picked up her bucket and made her way to the barn, sloshing water as she went. Together they lifted the buckets and filled the troughs. Dropping them near the door for the next person to fill, they ran full speed towards the smial. Every Trewsday, the middle of the week, the children in Whitwell played games in the afternoon until winners were declared on all sides or mothers shouted for their children to come home for supper.
SIX - The Games
Pippin and Pervinca hastily got out of their soiled work clothes and changed into more presentable play clothes. The heavens forbid they go into the village with dirt covered hands. They held them out for Eglantine to inspect.
"All right--you both look presentable," she said, then smiled; the games were the highlight of their week.
Out the door they charged, running down the lane and off towards the small village that house perhaps as many as twenty families. It was indeed an insignificant village; the only services it held were an eating-house, a small pub, a wheelwright, and a blacksmith. Everything else was centered around the local farming community. For any other services, folks would have to travel further to Tuckborough; the nearest and chief town of the Tookland. And yes--everyone knew each other; there are no secrets in a small village.
They ran for close to two miles when they came to a grassy field behind the wheelwright's shed. The egg tossing game was about to begin. Pervinca pulled out an egg from each pocket of her pinafore and laid them in the pile of eggs to draw from. A team had to draw from that specific pile of eggs because not too long ago, one lad was caught cheating with a boiled egg. He was declared the loser and not allowed to participate in any more games that day (no--it wasn't Pippin, though the idea did spring to his mind once or twice).
Pippin and his sister were a pretty good team when it came to the Egg Toss and the Three-Legged Race. For all other games, it was every Took child for him and herself. When Merry visited, he and Pippin would join in the more boyish games. These games weren't necessarily more rough, but no lad wanted to knock down a lass in his zeal to make a point.
As the game wound down, there were three teams left, and Pippin and Pervinca were one of them. When they stepped back further for this latest round, they were farther apart than they'd ever been in any other egg toss. This was the first time they were part of the top three winners. Pippin was thrilled; he wound back and let it fly to his sister.
Pervinca watched carefully as the brownish egg rose to its apex and then...she saw it was coming down faster than she thought. She stepped to the side to spring her arm back as she caught it, but at that speed it glanced off her hand and splattered behind her.
"I'm sorry, Pippin," She was glum the entire time she and Pippin walked towards the group of children tying their legs together for the Three-Legged Race. "I should've caught it."
Pippin had his hands in his pockets, casually walking beside his sister, "Well...I threw it too hard. I should've known better--we've practiced many times, and at farther distances."
"Perhaps we'll do better next week," she offered.
"We did great this week, Pervinca!" Pippin became more confident, "We placed third! We never did that before!"
She smiled at that, "We did do great this time didn't we?" Her and Pippin sat in the grass as Pippin pulled out a thin cord from his pocket. "Not too tight...," she said, watching him make several loops around their legs. They laughed as they got up and then tried to gain their balance. But after the first step, their strides became coordinated with one another. This race they also practiced often on the farm after their chores. Last week they placed second...Pippin was anxious as to how well they would do today. Success one week didn't necessarily predict success the next week. The pairs of children lined up between two trees.
"Everyone ready?" Ferdibrand Took stood on the sidelines, as he was the appointed overseer for the games today. The following week it would fall to another older teen. He waited for any complaints or any other indications that the contestants were not ready. The line was silent. Hands and arms linked around each other waiting eagerly for the signal to run.
"Set!" The teen called again, scanning the line with his eyes, "BEGIN!"
All the spectators ran along the sidelines as the runners laughed, tripped, and struggled on. Pippin and Pervinca were among a cluster of children who kept pace with one another. The goal was looming closer when one of the older contestants dodged a pair of little girls who tripped in front of them. They cut directly into Pippin's path and knocked him and his sister to the ground, landing on top of them.
By the time the foursome recovered, the game was already won by the Longbarrel sisters. Pippin lay winded and holding his side while Pervinca quickly untied the cord. "Pippin, you're hurt!"
One of the pair that fell was angry when he saw the boy was squirming, "He's too little of a laddie to be runnin' in these games, lass!" He untied himself from his friend and stomped off.
Pervinca ignored his remark and helped Pippin to his feet. "Where does it hurt?"
"I'm all right," Pippin responded in a hoarse voice, still holding his side. "Just winded is all."
"Let me see," Pervica pulled up on his shirt and saw a nasty pink bruise forming.
"C' mon, Pippin," said the second teen. "My Mum will see to ye and yer sister." He indicated to Pervinca's knee; she had a small gash from when she fell on it. Pervinca accepted the second lad's invitation.
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"Have you children properly thanked Mistress Verbena for taking good care you?" Paladin found his children sitting in the small garden of the Saddler home, empty plates sitting on their laps. Verbena had sent her son to fetch Mister Paladin Took tending his fields over yonder, then stuffed the young Tooks with bread and jam.
Having received the word that his two youngest children had a spill in the games, he decided to pick them up and go on home early. He helped them both to their feet, "You both had a nasty spill, eh Sweet Pea?"
"Yes, father, and we thanked her," Pervinca held onto her father's arm to get her footing. Verbena had bandaged her knee as if she'd broken it. She set aside her plate onto the old tree stump that served as her chair.
"Thank you, Verbena," Paladin said to the woman in the doorway, "I hope they weren't much trouble."
"Trouble? No," She shook her head and smiled, "a delight I should say--after my Hal nearly ran them over."
The teen stood nearby with a bandage round his elbow, "Sorry--I was tryin' to keep from falling on the wee lasses in front of me." He smiled at Pervinca; she blushed.
Having said their farewells, Paladin guided his children down the path to the waiting wagon, "Let's get you children home to wash up."
~TBC~