QTPie2488 - It's good to be back! Oh, Bramblethorn says it's good to be back too.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Merry is of an age where he will be learning more about the actual running of the Hall. I like writing scenes with Merry and his father. I just imagine it to be a good relationship they had.
Trust No One - Thanks for your comments on my portrayal of Merry. I see him as having not only a mischievous, fun - loving side to his character, but a serious and thoughtful side as well. Rushford with the Ring? It's too awful to consider!
Iorhael - Angst will abound in future chapters. Rushford's bad deed is definitely bearing fruit, at least from his point of view.
Aratlithiel11 - I sort of sprung the posting of this fic on you without a real warning, didn't I? Merry is having a tough time trying to figure out what's gone wrong, and it's beginning to wear on him.
GamgeeFest - Sam will only be away from his beloved garden for a short time right now, but there will come a time after harvest when he will be away for a bit longer. It's been so long since that weed has been seen around Bree or the Shire that folks have forgotten it.
FrodoBaggins87 - There's action coming, certainly. It just takes a certain amount of time to get those poor hobbits into sufficient trouble!
Endymion2 - There won't be a lot of talk of where the weed actually came from. They'll be too busy trying to do something about it. Merry trusts Sam as the best gardener he knows outside of Buckland, and he's not found any answers himself. Might as well see what Sam has to say, eh?
Aelfgifu - I'll try to vote at the Golden Mushrooms. I've been so swamped lately!
KT SHY - Thanks for your kind comments. I hope you keep coming back!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 2 - Burning
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~
Frodo anxiously scanned the landscape ahead as Sam drove the wagon along the bumpy road. He could see several fields of grain in the distance, but as they drew nearer, he could tell something was terribly wrong. He glanced at Sam and knew by the dismay he saw in the gardener's gentle eyes that the sight was disturbing to Sam as well.
"It looks bad, even from here," Frodo remarked quietly. Sam nodded. They drove on, intent upon reaching the Hall and hearing what Merry and Saradoc had to tell of the events of recent weeks.
The Hall itself looked as it always had, the courtyard shady and bright with the many colors of the flowers that bloomed there. To look at the children laughing and playing, one would think nothing was amiss at all. Merry emerged from the Hall and was walking steadily toward them, his steps lacking their usual energy. As he neared, Frodo was struck by how tired his cousin looked, how burdened he seemed in contrast with his usual cheer.
"Merry!" No sooner had the wagon stopped moving than Frodo jumped out of the seat and embraced his cousin. "You look so tired. Have you not been sleeping?"
"Rest has been a rare commodity lately, I'm afraid," Merry replied as he reached out to clasp Sam's hand in greeting. "It was good of you to come."
"I don't know what help we can be, but Sam and I will do all we can to assist," Frodo said as he pulled his pack from behind the seat of the wagon. Sam immediately took it from him and shouldered it himself, along with his own.
"Can you show me that weed, Mr. Merry?" Sam asked. "I hope I can tell you what it is."
"I hope so too, Sam. But first, lets get you settled and get something to eat. You must be hungry after traveling." Merry led the way through the doors of the Hall, and showed Sam and Frodo to the best of the guest quarters. "You know you can stay anywhere you want, but these rooms are close to my family's and are the most comfortable available."
Frodo smiled at Merry's statement. Most of the time when Frodo came to visit there was a celebration of some sort in progress, and guest rooms were in great demand. This time, the Hall was mainly occupied by its permanent residents, and rooms that were usually reserved for important guests like the Mayor stood empty.
"We appreciate it, Merry. Sam and I are at your command from this moment on. Nothing you ask of us will be too much." Frodo gestured down the hallway toward the library. "I should like to begin with seeing the research you've done. I used to spend quite a lot of time in the library, and perhaps I've seen something of use."
"The library it is," Merry replied. "You've done enough riding down dusty roads for now, so seeing the fields can wait." To Sam he said, "I have some specimens of the weeds here, so I need not drag you out to the fields to see them."
"I'd like a look at the thing, no mistake," Sam said gravely. "Anythin' that can make such a mess of your fine wheat fields is no friend of mine, Mr. Merry."
Merry escorted Sam and Frodo to the library and showed them the stacks of books he had already searched for information on the offending weed. "I've found no references to anything of its kind so far," he admitted with a shake of his head. "With all the information in this library, you would think there would be something."
Sam was examining the dried cuttings of the weed that were laid out on a table. He touched them carefully, making sure not to crack the brittle red pods. "I ain't seen this before, Mr. Merry. Not growin' at least," Sam said as he peered at it.
"We've several fields of it, growing happily as you please," Merry said with disgust.
"None of these books held any reference to it at all?" Frodo said with dismay. No wonder Merry looked so haggard. He had obviously been spending every waking moment in search of a solution to the problem.
"Not these, but as you know, there are many more to be searched." Merry gazed up at the shelves of books around him and sighed.
"We're here to help, Merry, and we're ready to start. We can eat while we work," Frodo suggested.
"Eru bless you, Frodo. I'll go to the kitchens right now and have something made ready." Merry stepped out the door and walked down the hallway.
Sam looked around at the many volumes lining the walls of the room. "Where ought we to start, Mr. Frodo? I ain't never seen so many books in one place, not even at Bag End."
"I'll begin over here," Frodo said, pointing at the nearest shelf. "We should look for any books on agriculture or herb lore," he told Sam and began to scan the titles. Sam had never been more grateful that Bilbo had taught him to read. His Gaffer hadn't seen the use of it at the time, but had allowed it nonetheless, provided Sam kept up with his gardening duties. He pulled a book off the shelf and began to scan its contents, replacing it when he found nothing of value.
Frodo was taking similar action across the room. He found a book on medicinal herbs and perused the pages with the hope that the weed was not completely destructive. None of the descriptions or illustrations in the book seemed to have to do with the plant.
By the time Merry returned, followed by several of the kitchen workers bearing trays of food and a full tea service, a number of books had been eliminated as sources of information. The hobbits sat down to refresh themselves with a meal and some tea. Frodo read even as he ate, pausing between bites to scan and turn the pages of the book that lay in his lap.
Hours later, nothing had surfaced. Merry suggested they go outside for some air and a pipe, and Sam and Frodo agreed eagerly. As they stood outside and watched the sun setting over the trees, Frodo thought of something.
"We've been looking at books on agriculture and herb lore, but we haven't done anything with the histories yet," he mused. "Perhaps something like this has happened before, long ago, beyond living memory. If someone thought to record the events, we might find what we need."
Sam's brow creased as he tried to remember things his Gaffer had told him over the years. History had never been his favorite subject of conversation, even when it had to do with things that grew in the soil. "Maybe so, Mr. Frodo. I'm tryin' to recall things I heard my Gaffer say when I was a little lad."
"Don't overwork yourselves when you've only just arrived," Merry admonished. Although they had come with a purpose in mind, Sam and Frodo were still guests.
"You're one to talk about overworking oneself," Frodo chided gently. "When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?"
"I don't remember, to be truthful," Merry responded as he dumped the ashes out of his pipe and scrubbed them into the dust with his toes. "It's been a while, that's certain."
They walked back into the Hall and to the library, feeling better for the fresh air and a little pipeweed. Frodo abandoned the herb lore and agriculture books for historical accounts of life in Buckland and other regions of the Shire. More time passed and Frodo was startled from his reading by Sam's voice.
"Mr. Frodo, I don't know if it will be any help at all, but I recall my Gaffer tellin' me a tale when I was a very small lad. He was tryin' to put it into my head not to be a lazy ninnyhammer and let a single weed go without pluckin'. He said somethin' about seeds spreadin' trouble faster than Goodwives spread gossip, an' havin' to burn everythin' to stop the trouble."
"Having to burn it?" Frodo frowned and looked at the book he was holding. He had just passed by a chapter about a series of fires in the Southfarthing. He was looking for information on crop failure, not fire. He turned back to the chapter and started to read it.
"Sam, this might be of some use," he said at length. "Several generations ago, there was a forest fire in the Southfarthing that was actually started by a farmer burning a field. The account here isn't very detailed, but it says he claimed to be trying to eradicate something unwanted that was growing on his land."
Sam came over to where Frodo was standing and peered over his shoulder at the book. As Frodo turned another page, a very small illustration nearly leapt off the next one. "Look, Mr. Frodo! Don't that look like them weeds on the table over there?" The small illustration, though not a very professional rendering, did resemble the dried sprigs Merry had saved.
"It says here that the farmer was trying to clear his land of a vine with red pods, and that the vine was taking over his field and choking out the crop he was growing there. He tried to plow it under, but it just came back stronger than ever. When he and his field hands tried to pull up the plants, the seed pods broke open and there was that much more of it as a result."
Sam picked up one of the sprigs from the table. It was dry enough for the pods to be especially brittle. "Mr. Merry, I know it's near nightfall, but can I get a look at some of this as is still in the field? I want to know if them pods are as brittle when they're still attached to the live plant."
"Follow me," Merry said and led them from the library. They had ponies saddled in moments and were able to reach the edge of a wheat field as the last rays of sunlight were fading from the sky.
Sam dismounted and bent down on one knee to examine the weeds at his feet. He gingerly reached out and plucked one of the sprigs. He then laid his handkerchief down on the ground to catch any falling seeds and poked at one of the pods experimentally. Minimal pressure was all that was required to make the pod burst open, and a large number of small seeds spilled out onto the fabric. "Brittle as your aunt Lobelia's temper, it is," he remarked as he carefully gathered up the handkerchief. "I'll toss these seeds into the fire back at the Hall so they can't do no damage."
"So you may have found the culprit," Merry said excitedly. "But what is it called and how do we get rid of it?"
Sam shuffled his feet and looked at Merry with a pained expression. "More of my Gaffer's tale is comin' back to me now, especially since Mr. Frodo found that bit in the book. The farmer was burnin' his fields, Mr. Merry." Sam took a deep breath before he spoke again. "This here is Fireweed, an' it gets the name from how fast it spreads and what you have to do to stop it. Mr. Merry, the only way to get rid of it is to burn it."
Merry blanched. "Burn it, Sam? But we've found it in no less than eight fields!"
Frodo looked at Merry in shock. "Eight? But that means - "
"It means a significant loss of wheat, barley and corn. We can re - plant, but we're well into the growing season already. We can't expect our yield to be very promising." Merry gazed out at the field as darkness fell, and his heart was heavy as he thought of telling his father the news.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Merry," Sam said mournfully. It was terrible to think about the loss of the crops. Sam had an inborn love of all growing things, and seeing useful plants die in favor of weeds insulted his sensibilities harshly.
"We had better get back to the Hall and start preparations to burn the fields," Merry said, giving the sickly wheat a last glance. The three hobbits mounted their ponies and rode away, leaving the field to be dealt with in the light of morning.
~*~The next afternoon~*~
"All right, lads, keep those shovels ready in case the flames start to spread where we don't want 'em," Ned shouted to the apprentices at the edges of the field. He lowered the blazing torch into the wheat and the burning of the contaminated areas began.
The flames devoured all in their path, weeds and wheat, barley and young shoots of corn already grown to the height of a hobbit's head. Sam took his only measure of comfort in watching the red pods of the weed turn to ashes, their contents rendered impotent.
Frodo stamped upon a stray tongue of flame that was starting to burn toward some brush and Merry shoveled soil over the spot. For the remainder of the day, the hobbits burned fields and put out embers as dark smoke splayed across the sky in a dense cloud. By the day's end, everyone was tired, grimy and depressed as they made their way back to the Hall.
"Mr. Frodo, I'll have a nice bath ready for you as soon as we get back," Sam promised. It was somehow disconcerting for him to see so many dark, sooty smudges on Frodo's pale face.
"What about you, Sam?" Frodo asked with an almost amused expression. "You look like you've been put down the chimney."
Sam supposed that he did. If the smudges on his hands and forearms were any indication, the rest of him must be a sight indeed.
Merry looked at his own hands ruefully. It was plain to see that they were all a mess. "There's more dirty work ahead, I'm afraid. We'll be re - planting as soon as possible."
Sam nodded. "I wish you fine weather for the rest of the season, Mr. Merry. With luck you'll get somethin' out of them fields an' that's better than nothin', if you follow me."
"I do, Sam," Merry replied, glad of the encouragement. "Then we'll see what the harvest brings."
~*~Bree~*~
From his spacious smial in the hills overlooking the village, Bramblethorn scanned the sky in the direction of Buckland. He had been watching the smoke rising and creating a dark haze. There was only one thing that could be causing it, and he smiled in satisfaction. Monto and Anson had managed to seed eight of the largest fields with the weeds, and all of them would have to be burned.
Bramblethorn wondered when the panic would set in. Bucklanders were odd, but they weren't stupid. Any adult hobbit in the Eastfarthing would know that losing even eight fields of crops on the heels of the last disappointing harvest could spell disaster. But that wasn't his concern. Let those Brandybucks deal with that, he counseled himself. All he had to do was wait to see whether the Shire could support Buckland through a lean season. He strongly suspected it could not, and that the Bucklanders would come looking for supplies to purchase in Bree. When they did, he would be ready for them.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Merry is of an age where he will be learning more about the actual running of the Hall. I like writing scenes with Merry and his father. I just imagine it to be a good relationship they had.
Trust No One - Thanks for your comments on my portrayal of Merry. I see him as having not only a mischievous, fun - loving side to his character, but a serious and thoughtful side as well. Rushford with the Ring? It's too awful to consider!
Iorhael - Angst will abound in future chapters. Rushford's bad deed is definitely bearing fruit, at least from his point of view.
Aratlithiel11 - I sort of sprung the posting of this fic on you without a real warning, didn't I? Merry is having a tough time trying to figure out what's gone wrong, and it's beginning to wear on him.
GamgeeFest - Sam will only be away from his beloved garden for a short time right now, but there will come a time after harvest when he will be away for a bit longer. It's been so long since that weed has been seen around Bree or the Shire that folks have forgotten it.
FrodoBaggins87 - There's action coming, certainly. It just takes a certain amount of time to get those poor hobbits into sufficient trouble!
Endymion2 - There won't be a lot of talk of where the weed actually came from. They'll be too busy trying to do something about it. Merry trusts Sam as the best gardener he knows outside of Buckland, and he's not found any answers himself. Might as well see what Sam has to say, eh?
Aelfgifu - I'll try to vote at the Golden Mushrooms. I've been so swamped lately!
KT SHY - Thanks for your kind comments. I hope you keep coming back!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 2 - Burning
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~
Frodo anxiously scanned the landscape ahead as Sam drove the wagon along the bumpy road. He could see several fields of grain in the distance, but as they drew nearer, he could tell something was terribly wrong. He glanced at Sam and knew by the dismay he saw in the gardener's gentle eyes that the sight was disturbing to Sam as well.
"It looks bad, even from here," Frodo remarked quietly. Sam nodded. They drove on, intent upon reaching the Hall and hearing what Merry and Saradoc had to tell of the events of recent weeks.
The Hall itself looked as it always had, the courtyard shady and bright with the many colors of the flowers that bloomed there. To look at the children laughing and playing, one would think nothing was amiss at all. Merry emerged from the Hall and was walking steadily toward them, his steps lacking their usual energy. As he neared, Frodo was struck by how tired his cousin looked, how burdened he seemed in contrast with his usual cheer.
"Merry!" No sooner had the wagon stopped moving than Frodo jumped out of the seat and embraced his cousin. "You look so tired. Have you not been sleeping?"
"Rest has been a rare commodity lately, I'm afraid," Merry replied as he reached out to clasp Sam's hand in greeting. "It was good of you to come."
"I don't know what help we can be, but Sam and I will do all we can to assist," Frodo said as he pulled his pack from behind the seat of the wagon. Sam immediately took it from him and shouldered it himself, along with his own.
"Can you show me that weed, Mr. Merry?" Sam asked. "I hope I can tell you what it is."
"I hope so too, Sam. But first, lets get you settled and get something to eat. You must be hungry after traveling." Merry led the way through the doors of the Hall, and showed Sam and Frodo to the best of the guest quarters. "You know you can stay anywhere you want, but these rooms are close to my family's and are the most comfortable available."
Frodo smiled at Merry's statement. Most of the time when Frodo came to visit there was a celebration of some sort in progress, and guest rooms were in great demand. This time, the Hall was mainly occupied by its permanent residents, and rooms that were usually reserved for important guests like the Mayor stood empty.
"We appreciate it, Merry. Sam and I are at your command from this moment on. Nothing you ask of us will be too much." Frodo gestured down the hallway toward the library. "I should like to begin with seeing the research you've done. I used to spend quite a lot of time in the library, and perhaps I've seen something of use."
"The library it is," Merry replied. "You've done enough riding down dusty roads for now, so seeing the fields can wait." To Sam he said, "I have some specimens of the weeds here, so I need not drag you out to the fields to see them."
"I'd like a look at the thing, no mistake," Sam said gravely. "Anythin' that can make such a mess of your fine wheat fields is no friend of mine, Mr. Merry."
Merry escorted Sam and Frodo to the library and showed them the stacks of books he had already searched for information on the offending weed. "I've found no references to anything of its kind so far," he admitted with a shake of his head. "With all the information in this library, you would think there would be something."
Sam was examining the dried cuttings of the weed that were laid out on a table. He touched them carefully, making sure not to crack the brittle red pods. "I ain't seen this before, Mr. Merry. Not growin' at least," Sam said as he peered at it.
"We've several fields of it, growing happily as you please," Merry said with disgust.
"None of these books held any reference to it at all?" Frodo said with dismay. No wonder Merry looked so haggard. He had obviously been spending every waking moment in search of a solution to the problem.
"Not these, but as you know, there are many more to be searched." Merry gazed up at the shelves of books around him and sighed.
"We're here to help, Merry, and we're ready to start. We can eat while we work," Frodo suggested.
"Eru bless you, Frodo. I'll go to the kitchens right now and have something made ready." Merry stepped out the door and walked down the hallway.
Sam looked around at the many volumes lining the walls of the room. "Where ought we to start, Mr. Frodo? I ain't never seen so many books in one place, not even at Bag End."
"I'll begin over here," Frodo said, pointing at the nearest shelf. "We should look for any books on agriculture or herb lore," he told Sam and began to scan the titles. Sam had never been more grateful that Bilbo had taught him to read. His Gaffer hadn't seen the use of it at the time, but had allowed it nonetheless, provided Sam kept up with his gardening duties. He pulled a book off the shelf and began to scan its contents, replacing it when he found nothing of value.
Frodo was taking similar action across the room. He found a book on medicinal herbs and perused the pages with the hope that the weed was not completely destructive. None of the descriptions or illustrations in the book seemed to have to do with the plant.
By the time Merry returned, followed by several of the kitchen workers bearing trays of food and a full tea service, a number of books had been eliminated as sources of information. The hobbits sat down to refresh themselves with a meal and some tea. Frodo read even as he ate, pausing between bites to scan and turn the pages of the book that lay in his lap.
Hours later, nothing had surfaced. Merry suggested they go outside for some air and a pipe, and Sam and Frodo agreed eagerly. As they stood outside and watched the sun setting over the trees, Frodo thought of something.
"We've been looking at books on agriculture and herb lore, but we haven't done anything with the histories yet," he mused. "Perhaps something like this has happened before, long ago, beyond living memory. If someone thought to record the events, we might find what we need."
Sam's brow creased as he tried to remember things his Gaffer had told him over the years. History had never been his favorite subject of conversation, even when it had to do with things that grew in the soil. "Maybe so, Mr. Frodo. I'm tryin' to recall things I heard my Gaffer say when I was a little lad."
"Don't overwork yourselves when you've only just arrived," Merry admonished. Although they had come with a purpose in mind, Sam and Frodo were still guests.
"You're one to talk about overworking oneself," Frodo chided gently. "When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?"
"I don't remember, to be truthful," Merry responded as he dumped the ashes out of his pipe and scrubbed them into the dust with his toes. "It's been a while, that's certain."
They walked back into the Hall and to the library, feeling better for the fresh air and a little pipeweed. Frodo abandoned the herb lore and agriculture books for historical accounts of life in Buckland and other regions of the Shire. More time passed and Frodo was startled from his reading by Sam's voice.
"Mr. Frodo, I don't know if it will be any help at all, but I recall my Gaffer tellin' me a tale when I was a very small lad. He was tryin' to put it into my head not to be a lazy ninnyhammer and let a single weed go without pluckin'. He said somethin' about seeds spreadin' trouble faster than Goodwives spread gossip, an' havin' to burn everythin' to stop the trouble."
"Having to burn it?" Frodo frowned and looked at the book he was holding. He had just passed by a chapter about a series of fires in the Southfarthing. He was looking for information on crop failure, not fire. He turned back to the chapter and started to read it.
"Sam, this might be of some use," he said at length. "Several generations ago, there was a forest fire in the Southfarthing that was actually started by a farmer burning a field. The account here isn't very detailed, but it says he claimed to be trying to eradicate something unwanted that was growing on his land."
Sam came over to where Frodo was standing and peered over his shoulder at the book. As Frodo turned another page, a very small illustration nearly leapt off the next one. "Look, Mr. Frodo! Don't that look like them weeds on the table over there?" The small illustration, though not a very professional rendering, did resemble the dried sprigs Merry had saved.
"It says here that the farmer was trying to clear his land of a vine with red pods, and that the vine was taking over his field and choking out the crop he was growing there. He tried to plow it under, but it just came back stronger than ever. When he and his field hands tried to pull up the plants, the seed pods broke open and there was that much more of it as a result."
Sam picked up one of the sprigs from the table. It was dry enough for the pods to be especially brittle. "Mr. Merry, I know it's near nightfall, but can I get a look at some of this as is still in the field? I want to know if them pods are as brittle when they're still attached to the live plant."
"Follow me," Merry said and led them from the library. They had ponies saddled in moments and were able to reach the edge of a wheat field as the last rays of sunlight were fading from the sky.
Sam dismounted and bent down on one knee to examine the weeds at his feet. He gingerly reached out and plucked one of the sprigs. He then laid his handkerchief down on the ground to catch any falling seeds and poked at one of the pods experimentally. Minimal pressure was all that was required to make the pod burst open, and a large number of small seeds spilled out onto the fabric. "Brittle as your aunt Lobelia's temper, it is," he remarked as he carefully gathered up the handkerchief. "I'll toss these seeds into the fire back at the Hall so they can't do no damage."
"So you may have found the culprit," Merry said excitedly. "But what is it called and how do we get rid of it?"
Sam shuffled his feet and looked at Merry with a pained expression. "More of my Gaffer's tale is comin' back to me now, especially since Mr. Frodo found that bit in the book. The farmer was burnin' his fields, Mr. Merry." Sam took a deep breath before he spoke again. "This here is Fireweed, an' it gets the name from how fast it spreads and what you have to do to stop it. Mr. Merry, the only way to get rid of it is to burn it."
Merry blanched. "Burn it, Sam? But we've found it in no less than eight fields!"
Frodo looked at Merry in shock. "Eight? But that means - "
"It means a significant loss of wheat, barley and corn. We can re - plant, but we're well into the growing season already. We can't expect our yield to be very promising." Merry gazed out at the field as darkness fell, and his heart was heavy as he thought of telling his father the news.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Merry," Sam said mournfully. It was terrible to think about the loss of the crops. Sam had an inborn love of all growing things, and seeing useful plants die in favor of weeds insulted his sensibilities harshly.
"We had better get back to the Hall and start preparations to burn the fields," Merry said, giving the sickly wheat a last glance. The three hobbits mounted their ponies and rode away, leaving the field to be dealt with in the light of morning.
~*~The next afternoon~*~
"All right, lads, keep those shovels ready in case the flames start to spread where we don't want 'em," Ned shouted to the apprentices at the edges of the field. He lowered the blazing torch into the wheat and the burning of the contaminated areas began.
The flames devoured all in their path, weeds and wheat, barley and young shoots of corn already grown to the height of a hobbit's head. Sam took his only measure of comfort in watching the red pods of the weed turn to ashes, their contents rendered impotent.
Frodo stamped upon a stray tongue of flame that was starting to burn toward some brush and Merry shoveled soil over the spot. For the remainder of the day, the hobbits burned fields and put out embers as dark smoke splayed across the sky in a dense cloud. By the day's end, everyone was tired, grimy and depressed as they made their way back to the Hall.
"Mr. Frodo, I'll have a nice bath ready for you as soon as we get back," Sam promised. It was somehow disconcerting for him to see so many dark, sooty smudges on Frodo's pale face.
"What about you, Sam?" Frodo asked with an almost amused expression. "You look like you've been put down the chimney."
Sam supposed that he did. If the smudges on his hands and forearms were any indication, the rest of him must be a sight indeed.
Merry looked at his own hands ruefully. It was plain to see that they were all a mess. "There's more dirty work ahead, I'm afraid. We'll be re - planting as soon as possible."
Sam nodded. "I wish you fine weather for the rest of the season, Mr. Merry. With luck you'll get somethin' out of them fields an' that's better than nothin', if you follow me."
"I do, Sam," Merry replied, glad of the encouragement. "Then we'll see what the harvest brings."
~*~Bree~*~
From his spacious smial in the hills overlooking the village, Bramblethorn scanned the sky in the direction of Buckland. He had been watching the smoke rising and creating a dark haze. There was only one thing that could be causing it, and he smiled in satisfaction. Monto and Anson had managed to seed eight of the largest fields with the weeds, and all of them would have to be burned.
Bramblethorn wondered when the panic would set in. Bucklanders were odd, but they weren't stupid. Any adult hobbit in the Eastfarthing would know that losing even eight fields of crops on the heels of the last disappointing harvest could spell disaster. But that wasn't his concern. Let those Brandybucks deal with that, he counseled himself. All he had to do was wait to see whether the Shire could support Buckland through a lean season. He strongly suspected it could not, and that the Bucklanders would come looking for supplies to purchase in Bree. When they did, he would be ready for them.
~*~ To be continued ~*~