Notes to Readers:
The co-author on this chapter is, of course, Jodancingtree. She has added lots
of charming touches, thanks, Jo!
Thank you for the comments! Reviews are very motivating and give me insights
into the stories that make me dig deeper in writing, which I probably wouldn't
do were I the only one reading these stories... (I am sending them on to Jo,
and she thanks you as well.) And thank you for your patience as well! We are
getting there—there is at least one chapter left after this one. Jo just sent
me part of the new chapter and I must admit it was a pleasure to read.
I am posting in haste, so no time to answer reader comments at the moment. Will
catch up when I post the next chapter, but cannot say just when that will be.
If you cannot access ff.net, try www.storiesofarda.com.
You can leave reviews there, as well (thanks SoA reviewers! See replies at SoA
as well), and there is a "reply" feature where an author can reply to
a review right there rather than within the text of the story. I have also
discovered the "author alert" feature. Amazing place, that SoA.
The next chapter of "A Small and Passing Thing" will be posted on the morrow,
if all goes well.
Enough admin notes. Let's get to the story.
***
Chapter 25. Reparations
In the morning the Tooklanders thanked Hally and Rosemary for their hospitality
and set out for home. Regi trailed a little behind, catching up to them a mile
down the road, having lingered to press a well-filled purse into Hally's hand.
'It's the Thain's orders, and not worth my skin to bring it back to him,' he
told the reluctant woodcarver. 'Your wife saved his son's life, as like as not,
and you had the nuisance of the crowd of us here all these days. Let Peregrin
pay his debts like an honourable hobbit!'
He swung himself up on his pony, cantering after the others. When he reined in
next to Pippin he nodded once, decisively, and Pippin smiled.
'He took it?'
'Aye, he took it. With a little persuasion, mind.'
Farry, riding next to his father, looked from one to the other. 'What?' he
asked. 'Who took what?' Pippin opened his mouth to tell the lad this was a
grown-up affair and none of his concern, but then he hesitated.
Ought he to be training Faramir to be Thain? He had not been, up until now. The
lad had seemed too young and careless, and his own health too precarious, for
it to be needful – if he died before Farry came of age, Reginard would be the
next Thain, whether he wanted the title or not. But how if he did not die?
Merry had the right of it, when he said no one knew how many sips were in the
cup. I might drag on as I am for years on end, he thought, and die
only just in time to drop the burden onto Farry's shoulders. I'd better begin
preparing him.
'I had Reginard give Hally some gold coins for his trouble, putting us up all
those days,' he answered the child. 'It was an expense for him to feed us all,
you know, and Rosemary took care of you, too, as skilfully as any healer. It is
right they should be paid.'
Faramir hadn't thought about that; childlike, he had taken it for granted that
there would be food on the table at mealtime, and even that someone would care
for him when he was sick. His thoughts went back to his night in the haystack,
before Ferdi had caught up with him; his hunger, when he'd had to find his own
food.
Not 'find' it, he thought. I didn't find it lying in the road. I took
it. Stole it. It wasn't a pleasant reflection, and he was very quiet the
rest of the day. I'm a thief. He remembered Uncle Merry's questioning, when
he first woke up from his illness, and Robin's rebuke. A thief and a liar.
They stopped early and made camp; Pippin would have pushed on, to reach
Tuckborough as soon as possible, but Regi persuaded him to stop for Farry's
sake. 'The lad's less than a week out of sickbed. Don't wear him out,' he
warned, but secretly his concern was for Pippin himself. The Thain was
breathing well; riding out in the mild weather was good for him, but it didn't
do to let him get overtired. They might have ridden on for another hour and
stayed at the Cockerel, but the night promised to be mild, and camping out in
the woods might excite less comment than the group of them staying at the most
popular inn between Tuckborough and Stock.
Farry tended to his pony, then helped gather wood for the fire. The escort
watched him covertly, exchanging glances of amusement: the Thain's lad was
still enamoured of work, apparently. After they had eaten, they sat around the
fire as night closed in. Hilly told a long, rambling story about a hobbit in
the Marish who wagered his wife that he could do the housework better than she
could, with disastrous results, and their laughter rang in the darkness, with
Farry rolling on the ground in hilarity – it was an old tale, but it was new to
him.
'What pictures can you see in the stars, Farry?' Pippin asked when the lad was
quiet again. Farry looked up.
'There's the Hunter,' he said. 'And the Bear.'
'Can you see the Twins? No? Look – there, and there – you see?'
'Oh, yes! I can see them now. Which star is Earendil's, Da?' His father turned
him and lifted his hand, till he was pointing into the heavens.
'That one, Farry. See it?' The child nodded, staring in wonder.
'And is it really a jewel, then? Is it the Silmaril, and is Earendil sailing it
across the sky?'
'So they say, Farry.' He wrapped his arms around his lad, kissing the top of
his head, breathing in the warm, earthy fragrance of a child who's been out all
day in the open air. Faramir turned in his arms, clinging to him and burying
his face in Pippin's shirt. A sob shook him, and then another.
'Farry, what's wrong?' There was no answer, only another sob. 'Farry, look at
me! What is it, lad?' It's my wretched health, he thought in despair. How
long has he lived in fear, and I did not know? And how can I help him, now that
I do know? But Farry's answer, when it came, left him speechless, groping
for a reply.
'I shamed you, Da! I'm a liar, and,' gulp, 'I'm a thief, as well!' He broke
into a storm of crying, burrowing against Pippin and nearly knocking him
backwards onto the ground. Pippin struggled to keep his balance without letting
go of his son.
The other hobbits around the fire got up and moved away quietly into the
darkness, spreading out their blankets and making ready for sleep. This was the
Thain's business to deal with, and the less said the better. But Ferdi came to
sit by Pippin and laid his hand on Farry's back, rubbing in slow circles.
Pippin met his eyes, questioning, and Ferdi nodded.
'Farry. Shh, shh, lad, enough now. That's it, that's my lad.
Don't cry, my heart; tell me about it. What did you steal?'
'E-g-g-s.' It came out in a shuddering gasp. 'And milk.' He looked up blearily
into his father's face. 'I was hungry, Da; I was so hungry! I thought they'd
give it to me, but I couldn't ask, or they'd make me go home. So I took it and
I thought it would be all right, but it was stealing, I see that now.' He
buried his face against his father's chest again, but managed to hold back his
tears.
'And you lied, when Uncle Merry asked you if you had anything to eat,' Pippin
guessed, and Farry nodded without looking up. Pippin glanced helplessly at
Ferdi.
'You will have to pay reparations to the farmer,' Ferdi said, speaking to
Faramir. 'By custom, twice what you stole.'
'But I don't have any money!' the lad whispered. Pippin started to speak, but
Ferdi put a hand on his arm, shaking his head.
'It is up to you to make it right, Faramir,' he said. 'You will have to find a
way to get the money, and not by asking your father for it, either.'
'I can't,' Farry wailed. 'How can I?'
Ferdi was implacable. 'Earn it by honest work,' he said, 'or sell something you
own. This is your debt to pay.'
Farry lifted his face, considering. 'I don't own much worth selling,' he said
slowly. 'My pony's not even mine, not really.' He thought a moment. 'But the
saddle is mine, isn't it, Da? You gave it to me on your last birthday.'
'Yes, I did. The saddle is your own,' Pippin agreed.
'So I could sell that, though I don't know what I'd do for riding then.'
'Learn to ride without a saddle,' Ferdi said. 'Not as comfortable, but not
impossible.'
Faramir absorbed this idea, his face thoughtful in the firelight.
'And if you want another saddle...' Ferdi continued, and Pippin looked at him
sharply. How did Ferdi know that the Thain was trying to think of a plausible
way to replace Faramir's about-to-be-lost saddle as soon as might be?
'You can work to earn the coin,' Ferdi said. 'Save your earnings until you have
enough to buy another one.'
Farry sniffled. 'What work can I do? I learned to milk at Woody End, but the
milkmaids do that at the Smials – I don't think they would let me help!' He
hoped not, anyway. Milking was fun, when he went out to the byre with Robin and
his brothers, squirting a stream into the mouth of the nearest cat, racing each
other to fill their pails. It would be a different matter entirely, with the
giggling milkmaids of the Great Smials.
'I was grooming stalls well before your age,' Ferdibrand said. 'Polishing tack,
wheeling a barrow of pony droppings to the manure pile, sweeping, washing,
lifting, hauling.' He grinned at Faramir. 'How do you suppose I grew strong
enough to keep up with your da? Took me years of work, building up strength and
endurance.'
And character, Pippin thought. 'And I wasted much time when I could have been
doing the same,' he said aloud. 'I built strength and endurance the hard way,
walking halfway across Middle-earth and back again.'
'I'll put in a word for you with old Tom,' Ferdi said, 'if the Thain has no
objection. He may be able to find you something to do in the stables, so you
can earn the coin for a new saddle.'
It will be the talk of the Tooks, Pippin thought wryly, but then he
grinned. The Tooks were determined to talk about his family, it seemed, and
Faramir especially. Better let them gossip about the lad's unusual taste for
manual labour, than his penchant for mischief.
'The Thain has no objection,' he said. 'None at all.'
