On the 29th of Halimath 1345 (eve of Harvest Festival and Goose Fair), our merry band of hobbits gathered once again in the back room of the Three Pigs Tavern in Kings Worthy. While jugs of beer were brought in and tankards were filled up, Gorboduc was eager to announce the recent birth of his first son: Peredur. Everyone cheered and a toast was drunk to Primula’s health and the new arrival. Not to be outdone Isenbold also announced the arrival of his firstborn; a son named Reginard. More cheering and additional toasts were happily drunk. Halfred mentioned that his Marigold had just confirmed that they were expecting a baby sometime in the new year. The jugs and tankards were refilled. Edgar and Bella were also expecting and so, it turned out, were Falco and Rowan. It had clearly been a very productive summer and many happy extra toasts were made to the families.
But, of course, the principal purpose of their gathering was to prepare for the wedding of Mungo to Miss Lily Baxter in one week’s time. It was anticipated to be a major society event given the Baxters’ standing and connections within the Shire, and one which Madam Lavender Baxter had spent the last six months preparing for. For the groomsmen gathered in the room, their duties were clear:
- Make sure Mungo shows up, properly attired, to his wedding.
- Ensure the rings and a speech are provided at the appropriate times.
- Do not offend Madam Lavender Baxter who is In Charge.
- Ensure the Groom stays sane and positive.
- Help secure gifts and accommodation and liaise as needed.
- Arrange a Stag event which does not jeopardise anything.
Mungo, at once wary of anything which might jeopardise his wedding, loudly asserted that there would be no stag party whatsoever. Everyone else pointed out that it was already underway and that everybody, including himself, had drunk quite a few flagons of ale by this time. He was then required to pick a best man, which he refused for some while until eventually selecting his cousin Marroc to give the wedding speech and everyone else to “short it out between yershelves”. Tobold was commissioned to make a ‘simple’ ring, but they’d hunt around for Harvest fair trinkets as a backup plan. With all that settled, they drank the rest of their evening away.
Next morning the hobbits were awoken to the sound of hammering and thumping as the marketplace and fairground were set up for festivities. After a leisurely breakfast or two the friends set out to find suitable attire, at which point Mungo recollected a letter which had been sent to him some months earlier. This detailed the wedding colour theme (moss green and apricot) as well as a long list of rehearsals, fittings, luncheons with important guests and great-aunts and so forth which were due to happen this week. Gorboduc immediately steered Mungo towards the appointed tailor where they discovered that all the groomsmen had been assigned wedding attire in specified colours and mode, and that they all had to be measured and have a fitting. Halfred managed to customise his tricorn hat with herbs and flowers instead of a plume, and Edgar noted that Madam Lavander had failed to specify a colour for the britches, so promptly ordered an apricot pair. Cravats were compulsory.
When they were finally released back into their usual garb and out into the street, the hobbits dispersed to browse the market and find wedding gifts. The seasonal scrumpy sampling at the fairground was also enjoyed. Two large marquees housed the vegetable and flower growing competitions (the tubers were rumoured to be very hotly contested) and lots of outdoor pens held the geese and pigs awaiting judgement. Various local gossip was picked up, including the worrying news that Magistrate Aldwyn Wyrm had come all the way from Oatbarton to help with judging and to select a prize gander. They guiltily reviewed their goose raid of two years earlier and hoped that they had not left any evidence behind at Gosgraft or The Wandering Knight to damage their respectability. Halfred pointed out that Aldwyn might have brought his own geese, and those might recognise them. They resolved to give both geese and magistrate a wide berth.
Amongst the trade stalls they were pleased to see some of their regular visitors such as Billy Banks, the Bracegirdle family and even Sir Bernard Colwater; the latter there mainly to deliver wedding silk but defraying his losses with some miscellany for the masses. No dwarven tinkers anymore, of course. They bought some roasted chestnuts and Yale cheese from Burchard Greenhand to go with their cider, had a quick look at Duinhir of Tutbury’s leatherwear, and then Tobold dragged them in to see Anders Hayward, a bigfolk whitesmith from Bree. There he purchased silver and gold fine wires to twist into a matching pair of wedding rings for Mungo and Lily. Tobold also needed to borrow some equipment to start crafting, but as Trader Hayward was keen to explore a dwarven-shaped gap in the market, this was allowed. Marroc and Halfred commissioned carved wooden items from Hugo Wintermoss from Chetwood, and Edgar sneaked back to Bernard to secure a chessboard.
As lunchtime wound down the various games and trials started up: dale races, archery, stavin’, wrasslin’, riddles and storytime for the kids. Later that afternoon the tooting of horns and thump of drums announced the approach of the Hooky Stook procession ― a decorated cart bearing the final sheaf of harvested wheat and pulled by ‘straw jacks’ (farmers in leaf and straw costumes) escorted by musicians and beribboned dancers. Folk were encouraged to join in and Mungo eagerly did so. The procession made its way into the market square where the stook was distributed amongst the gathered matrons, who quickly wove the strands into corn dollies and passed them out to hobbitlings to take home. In the middle of all this the first wedding guests started to arrive. Boffins, Grubbs and Hornblowers created much chaos as rooms were sought and luggage unloaded.
Isenbold and Edgar hastened to welcome the early guests. They arranged for the luggage to be taken care of and encouraged their visitors to “stretch their legs” with a wander around the fair and sampling of the various ciders on offer. The Hornblowers were particularly appreciative of the cider. Many of the groomsmen were happy to show them around while keeping an eye on the groom who was maybe a little too merry by this point. Edgar headed back to town and was in time to observe the Burrows family’s arrival at the Willow Lords Arms where they were taking over the room reserved for Mr Baggins (who sent his apologies but would not be attending the wedding). Edgar paid special attention to getting refreshments for the family and seeing to their comfort, while bribing a nearby hobbitling to fetch Halfred and Gorboduc as the two most courteous and likely sober of the party.
Meanwhile, back at the fair, Old Spot was making short work of his challengers in the pig wrestling contest. Isenbold was casually hoisted over the hurdle and Gorboduc jostled to the ground without the hog even pausing his munching. Mungo, minded by Marroc, staggered away from cider tasting to entertain kiddies at the storytelling tent, although their age-unsuitable jokes were not to the liking of the goodwives. Madam Bracegirdle quickly took over to recount the tale of the Battle of Greenfields. Then it was time for the main marquees to be emptied. The flaps were sealed up so that judging of all the flower and vegetable competitions could take place undisturbed by feuds. However, rumours of sabotage were already circulating. Isenbold and Gorboduc cleaned up and joined Halfred and Edgar to accompany the Burrows family around the fair. Edgar was summoned away to join the other Town Counsellors for a traditional distribution of platters of seed cakes and new scrumpy amongst the crowd of hobbits awaiting the judges. A jolly Marroc wandered into view with Mungo in tow and promptly attached himself to Miss Estella who, he couldn’t help noticing, had filled out a lot this past year and had a new air of confidence. The serious business of prize-giving got underway with some fisticuffs brawling over the ‘best taters’ category fortunately drowning out Estella’s remarks on the standard of cut flowers.
High tea provided just enough time to sober up before the more prestigious evening competitions. Halfred opted to provide help with some stimulating tisanes after obtaining their informed consent, mainly because he was very interested in what a few of Anni Lange’s preparations could do in combination. His custom elixir proved most effective. Lanterns were lit around the stage in the market square where Theobald Mayford opened the song contest with his Barley Geste. Several other lively tunes followed but then Edgar took to the stage with something a little different. He’d been inspired with ideas from an old parchment showing an unknown musical notation, said to be from the northern ice, and had pieced together a possible melody. To his own amazement it came out far more sombre and haunting and eerie than he had ever imagined. It both riveted and spooked the crowd and the singer himself, and the melody seemed to linger in their minds after the last notes had died away. It might originally have been a lament of some kind. It took a minute for the assembled throng to shake off the mood but, hobbits being hobbits, their good cheer soon returned.
Meanwhile Isenbold, habitually suspicious of any big folk, noticed that one of the scruffier traders seemed to have recognised that tune and immediately slipped away into the dusk. He knew the fellow was Duinhir of Tetbury, that trader selling jackets, harnesses and leather travelling gear. Isenbold stealthed silently after him and followed the man back to their fairground. He watched Duinhir pack up quietly and leave. Back at the town square Marroc worked hard to re-enliven things, but his composition fell a little flat. Happily, Begonia stepped up to sing a rather lovely Swans’ Courtship song which the crowd loved. Gorboduc rounded things off with a merry ditty about sleepless nights as a new parent, which the older folk enjoyed. Although everyone clearly loved Begonia’s song most, the innate fairness of hobbits required them to acknowledge Edgar’s superior melody. He was awarded the prize and asked not to sing it again.
The first jigs and reels of the evening were enjoyed while contestants were rounded up for the riddle contest and younger hobbitlings put to bed. Goodwife Alice came out during the dancing to let the Burrows know that their rooms were ready, and the groomsmen noticed that Estella was eying Begonia suspiciously. Up on stage Mungo and Marroc were happily unaware of this as the riddle contest began. Goodman Poskitt entertained the crowd with reference to very recent fisticuffs and feuding families. Mungo pipped that with cider shenanigans. Marroc shone with pig wrasslin’ woes. A rematch was called for but Poskitt dropped out. Marroc opted for chess metaphors about Mungo’s upcoming wedding, but Mungo poked back with (almost) equal wit. The prize was narrowly awarded to Marroc whereupon the Noakes cousins were evicted from the stage as it was needed for more dancing. Tobold finally reappeared tired but happy from the day’s wire-crafting.
The group then chose to escort the Burrows and Baxters to dinner, ignoring all other guests, and enjoyed a very fine meal of Goodwife Alice Sugden’s peppered goose stew. The merriment was slightly marred when Estella had a spillage of gravy down her dress from the “serving wench”. Marroc escorted Estella upstairs to get changed. The chaps diverted their elders’ attention with talk of wedding arrangements and rings, and Madam Lavender Baxter was so charmed by Gorboduc’s interest in details that she quite assumed that he was the designated Best Man. She handed him the complete list of Mungo’s appointments for the next several days. Lily rued that they were not permitted to have fireworks since Lammy Spiel’s products were banned in Kings Worthy. Cllr Edgar feigned regret. The Baxters departed to call in on their guests in other taverns, and Aunt Rowan retrieved Estella and Marroc from upstairs.
Goodwife Alice personally served dessert. On the other side of the tavern Begonia sang a popular ballad to entertain guests. Her sweet voice was only marred by the sound of a tinkling teaspoon as Estella stirred more honey into her tea. Gorboduc noted that Madam Lavender’s ‘little list’ contained only more stressful social gatherings for Mungo. Mungo had a bit of a pre-wedding panic and retired to a broom closet where he was joined by the rest of his pals keen to talk him down. Marroc gave him a hearty pep talk. As they exited the cupboard Isenbold noticed Estella slipping back into place at the table. Over a cheeseboard Estella mentioned that she would be keen to visit Dumblebee smial because she had some gifts for Mama Noakes. Everyone agreed with this plan just as there was a huge crash from the kitchens and some unladylike swearing in Begonia’s dulcet tones. When Begonia re-emerged Halfred couldn’t help noticing that her festive flower posy smelled uncommonly like tincture of Lebathon bark, which can cause vertigo. As everyone was more or less tipsy this wasn’t obvious, nonetheless Halfred bumped into her and quietly swopped the flowers out. The evening wound to a close with no further mishaps.
Next morning the groomsmen met up to arrange their escape to Dumblebee. Miss Estella’s ‘getaway cart’ turned out to be an agricultural wagon which vast amounts of wedding flowers had just arrived on from South Farthing, so they were able to depart as soon as those were unloaded. Marigold was keen to escape with them since the Tooks were due to arrive at the Old Harp Tavern and she didn’t want to be the only Hackenbottom there. Gorboduc sent out apology letters in Mungo’s name, and the others loaded hiking gear onto the cart out of sight of the Bolgers and Brandybucks arriving in the main square. Mungo’s attention was taken by a sighting of Lily who was being herded into a nearby dressmakers along with all of her bridesmaids. The chaps deduced that the ladies were there for dress alterations and not happy about it. Marroc stealthed into propose a trip away and provide an escape route. Lily, Pearl, Marigold and Rowan all happily accepted, changed back into everyday clothes, and climbed through the back window before the matrons noticed anything amiss. After seeing the uncomfortable cart Rowan, who was heavily pregnant, opted to stay put and create a distraction. The rest drove away rapidly.
Following the road, they trundled north-east along familiar lanes. Along the way Edgar spotted a pile of discarded swan feathers a little way off the road. He gave it a poke but there were no bones or other debris, so he rehid it a little more thoroughly and left it be. Some four and a half hours after they left Kings Worthy the merry troop turned off the road into Dumblebee Smial where they were heartily welcomed by Marroc’s surprised family. Their assumption was that Mungo and Lily were eloping, a suggestion regretfully denied by both as they still intended to return by the end of the week. Marroc explained that he was offering a brief refuge. Refreshments were found. Afterwards Estella courteously introduced Granny Noakes and Madam Fleur to her gift: a batch of pink, mauve and white daisy-like flowers grown in glass wardian cases. She expressed hope that the bees might like them, as the ones in South Farthing did. She got permission from Grandma to put them near hives after assuring her that the plants had been grown inside the cases from seed and were undiseased. A thorny question from Granny about where Estella and Marroc hoped to reside was gracefully evaded.
In an effort to avoid more ‘helpful’ comments from friends and family, Marroc invited Miss Estella out on a nature walk to view their wildflower meadows. There, next to a pretty stream lit by a golden sunset and with autumn leaves floating down around them, Marroc proposed and Estella happily accepted. He gave her a lovely new engagement ring. In return she insisted that he wear an heirloom from her mum that she, in turn, had got from her mum; a slender amber pendant. Marroc recollected that her maternal grandmother was Amber Hackenbottom. They eventually returned to the smial to receive congratulations and toasts to their future happiness with Granny’s finest mead. It seemed only polite to wait until the wedding excitement had died down before discussing how the pendant might fit into their treasure hunt. The hobbits examined Estella’s pendant closely. It was a clear, pale amber droplet with a tiny insect embedded. The insect looked a bit like a honeybee and a bit like a wasp but smaller than either. It didn’t have a sting, Marroc noticed. Both the tear shape and the insect pointed upwards. The pendant was suspended on a thick silver chain with no clasp; it was fixed length but long enough to loop over a head. Marroc also observed that one of the links had been altered to make it a specific length.
They noted that the only clue still missing was something from Pitterfield/Halfred’s dad. They were only half a day’s hike away from Pitterfield, and only on day two of six days to fill before the wedding. They decided to make the trip. Over breakfast next day Edgar pointed out that the pitch and volume of the hives in the wall had increased. Granny appeared unconcerned, still tucking into her eggs and bacon. Edgar wandered outside to discover that the bees had discovered Estella’s pink flowers and were swarming them with great enthusiasm. Estella was very pleased and brought out a small sack of seeds which, she claimed, should be enough to do the whole meadow if sown after frosts have passed. Staying ahead of any troublesome post, Halfred herded them all out the back door and cross country towards Pitterfield. Papa Hagen Noakes agreed to take care of the cart. Tween Pearl looked as if she might prefer to stay put too, but had to accompany Lily.
The group rambled down from the moors and crossed Kilda Beck over some sturdy stepping stones, intending to stop for a generous picnic on the far bank, when Halfred caught the sound of someone playing a tune on a flute somewhere upstream. Following the air in curiosity the party rounded a boulder and came face to face with another of those tall humans in grubby robes and pointy hat. He looked similar to the chap they’d met in a snowstorm, but on second looks less intimidating. They exchanged polite “hellos” and introductions and kindly invited him to share their picnic. In return he shared his fine pipeweed. Initially talk was all about local doings and scandals, but eventually the topic of strange melodies came up and Gandalf (for it was he) persuaded Edgar to do another performance of his wordless lament. It didn’t come out with quite the same resonance this time, but nonetheless the old wizard puffed on his pipe looking thoughtful and interested. “Hmm. I’ll examine that further.” Lily and Mungo brought out the scroll which had led to their adventure at Breredon longbarrow. Gandalf threw out a riddle about Eglantine which they answered in kind to let him know that they’d sorted the problem. He was amazed. “Hobbits never fail to surprise me!”
It was late afternoon when they finally parted company with the affable old guy. They made their way across the meadows and orchards of Greenfields to arrive at Pitterfield Smial for teatime. The place was bustling with activity as their annual apple harvest had just started. Master Wiseman was very pleased to see them and got a whole hour of extra help out of the party before the light failed. After bathing and dining they all rushed around the smial in a comedy of door opening and clue searching, to no avail. Master Wiseman and Mistress Beryl recognised the unmistakeable chaos of an Otto hunt underway and stayed comfortably by the fire, puffing their pipes. Some of the party were more interested in finding quiet nooks with their beloveds, some found Otto’s ‘red herring’ treasure maps in the library, a few went out to inspect the old walnut tree ― but located a latrine and an apple orchard instead.
By daylight the Hackenbottoms reminded everyone that Otto’s hunts were designed for younglings and tweens so after breakfast they wandered out to the ancient walnut tree by the well where there was a derelict kids’ treehouse in the old tree. It looked more ramshackle than cosy: cobbled together from old cask staves, warped planks and other cast offs, but it had been there as long as Halfred could remember. He didn’t have much use for it as a kid, it being high off the ground, but he remembered the way up. When hobbitlings got tall enough they could climb onto the well surround (with lids closed), step onto the winder handle, then onto the well roof and up to the lowest branch. Above the entrance gap was a scrawled sign: ‘No dogs, keep out!’ Halfred remembered the sign as reading ‘No boys…’ from when his sister took over, and just visible under that was ‘No girls…’ from his dad’s time.
Marroc and Isenbold scrambled up to see what they could find. Isenbold looked for any signs or graffiti connected to family lore about Grandpa Otto. Marroc searched for places which might connect with either the telescope or the pendant, and his keen eye spotted a carved indentation in a pine plank which exactly matched Estella’s pendant. The tip of the shape pointed at a knot hole in the plank. He looked through the hole but there was another plank on the other side, so no line of sight to anything interesting. Next he tried dropping the pendant through the hole, holding tight to the other end, and heard a slight crack as something broke. A lower lump of wood dropped off and behind it was ‘+79.2°’. More hobbits scampered up in excitement bringing the compass and telescope and Farthing map. They were slightly worried that the bearing seemed to point to the middle of nowhere.
Halfred reminded everyone that the viewing location was most likely to be Camley, on the banks of the Brandywine. They debated travelling times and remaining time to Mungo and Lily’s wedding. Mungo was minded to turn back. Lily was keen to press on. She looked to the maps and calculated that it was 8 hours to walk to Camley, either by taking roads or cutting directly across country. The party decided to carry on by road as less risky. Knowing of Marigold’s pregnancy Master Wiseman suggested that she stay at Pitterfield, but there was no way that Marigold was being left behind. They grabbed provisions and set off after lunch on the lane towards Hardbottle. Just before they reached the main road alongside Norbourn river Tobold spotted a brightly coloured book lying in a clump of rushes. Marroc retrieved it and discovered that it was an alphabet picture book; no name inside, slightly damp and strangely singed from sparks or embers. This worried them. They searched around and called out for a considerable time but found no sign of any youngsters, missing or otherwise. The only hobbit that found anything further was Tobold, who noticed a family of otters scampering away. His ‘otter-like chitter’ caught their attention but failed to lure them closer. He left a spiral of silver wire nearby anyway.
Gorboduc led them on through Clapperby ignoring The Wheatsheaf tavern, despite pitiful protests from some quarters, and down the road at a good pace. They reached Hardbottle town safely as the light was fading and the temperature dropping. There were three inns to choose from, but the one with the most rooms to accommodate such a large group was The Seven Stars. The innkeepers were Alaric and Salvia Hornwood, and they served a decent meal accompanied by a pale golden beer with a dominant malty taste and a lasting bitter aftertaste (as some of the group remembered from their visit last spring). Early next morning, with mists still rising off the rivers, Isenbold, Halfred and Edgar went to see the local sherriff to report an abandoned book. At the town hall they discovered that ‘Counsellor Arkwright’ was a useful title to throw around and Sherriff Button was pleased to help once he understood the possibility of a missing child. None had been reported but he undertook to send runners out and to organise a wider search back at the junction.
Duty done, the group set out upriver even before second breakfast. Miss Pearl sulked. By late morning they reached Carr Hole village amongst the willow trees and stopped to refresh themselves at The Barge and Bottle with some lush, hoppy beer. They briefly admired local withy weavers making eel traps but Gorboduc soon moved them on. Several members of the party were inclined to rebel at the idea of missing yet another meal, but a lively marching song overrode their protests. They foraged from a patch of wild blackberries along the way. Following the bankside path upriver they could see that Greenfields lay slightly lower than the bank and must have been reclaimed from the river at some point. The Brandywine river showed no signs of any flooding but the local villagers kept their banks well maintained. By mid-afternoon they reached Camley village where the residents appeared to be mainly slodgers ― those who made a living from fishing and fowling. The hikers were delighted to see The Swan Inn, set opposite a small jetty at the centre of the village, and less delighted to spot another ancient, ruined tower on the opposite bank. It was a gloomy, melodramatic landmark which looked exactly like the kind of thing Grandpa Otto might choose.
A very late lunch was called for first; smoked duck, mushrooms and a spinach salad served with beer that had deep, earthy tones and a dry finish. They politely introduced themselves to the handful of elderly fishermen who had watched their arrival with undisguised interest. Goodmen Uffo Bilberry, Jolly Townsend, Largo Silentfoot and Tobias Headstrong called the place on the far bank The Ghost Tower. “It be haunted, I tell ‘ee!” Isenbold bought a round of beer for the gaffers by way of encouragement to gossip. They’d all heard noises of unseen things moving about, or seen glimmers of pale light in the middle of the night, or caught voices murmuring, sometimes, when the mists lay heavy over the river. Some of the old folk said that goblins hid there. They were amazed to learn that the youngsters wanted to go there, outside the Shire! They strongly discouraged this and were very reluctant to row anyone across. Gorboduc was reassuring that it was only a brief visit, that there were many beers in it for them, and that his fierce and well-armed party of bounders would deal with any trouble at the tower for them. Eventually they negotiated with Old Uffo a deal that he would ferry them across, keep watch from the Shire bank, and ferry them back just so long as absolutely nothing was chasing them. Both Edgar and publican Ellie Dewfoot insisted that young Pearl Baxter stay at the tavern during this trip.
Two by two, the group got ferried across and made their way up the wide stone steps leading to the half-ruined tower. It was another of those tumbledown towers built by men from across the sea. Most of it was still standing tall but there were sections where walls and supports had fallen away over the years to let wind whistle and keen through the gaps. It was decidedly spooky. Several of the hobbits noticed a very fine, cold ash on the ground floor, swirled by the wind. All were worried and only Mungo was really keen to climb to the top. Halfred was especially fearful. They cautiously clambered up the spiralling steps into abandoned (and sometimes open to the elements) rooms long since emptied of furniture and debris. Oddly, no birds had chosen to nest there. There were plenty of nooks and crannies but everything had been swept clean by the wind. It was six stories to the top and the climb felt very unnatural to the hobbits, but eventually they did come out onto a wide platform of flagstones with crumbling parapets. It allowed a fine view in all directions. There were no markings on any of the stones.
The hobbits unpacked their maps, key, telescope, compass and notes from the last two years of treasure hunting. They consulted the north-pointing needle on the dwarven compass and plonked their pre-clamped telescope on the parapet pointing roughly EastNorthEast to eagerly scan the lands that were in focus. To their disappointment only dismal, brown hills could be seen. Tobold asserted that the dwarves used east as their cardinal direction, so they reset the telescope to point SouthSouthEast and gazed worriedly at the distant shadow of the Old Forest. Finally, the Noakes cousins recollected their lore: the elves, men of Numenor, all mariners and most free people used West as the primary direction. They reversed direction with some relief. Through the telescope they could see Hagg End village, although it was out of focus. Tobold sighed deeply and greatly increased the accuracy of their +79.2° measurement by using the whole diameter of the tower roof to calculate degree markings. This time they could see, in sharp focus on a distant hill beyond Hagg End, a rocky outcrop in the shape of a flying horse. Estella reminded them that the name of the ship in a bottle at her smial was ‘Gwaeroch’, or ‘wind-horse’.
There was a spirited and noisy discussion of times, distances, treasure vs wedding and whether there was time to get to the high moors and back. The answer, they eventually decided, was no. They carefully made their way back down the steps, Marigold helping Halfred’s stumbling vertigo. Only Marroc, Mungo and Tobold were aware of a very slight sound down at the base of the tower. Marroc and Mungo drew swords while Tobold took his bow to a window gap above the main door. Most of the rest hid in shadows but Gorboduc and Isenbold drew swords and stealthed their way down to peer at the ground floor. Sneaking away very silently, though a gap in the wall, was a raggedy man they recognised as Duinhir the trader. He had acquired a deal more knives and a bow since last they saw him. He appeared to be trying to withdraw undetected. Isenbold, in the lead, let him go but followed silently. The others crept in the opposite direction and withdrew to the river where they signalled Old Uffo to come and collect them.
Meanwhile, Isenbold followed Duinhir’s faint trail leading off into the scrub eastwards. He picked up the faint whiff of an old campfire. About a half mile into the badlands he came to the man’s small camp, just as Duinhir was starting to relax. He was startled to see a hobbit suddenly appear. “Which way to Buckland?” Isenbold enquired brightly. “Why…, what? Um, Buckland is downriver. Do you need help getting there?” Duinhir answered, surprisingly politely under the circumstances. Isenbold feigned confusion over directions, and the man became increasingly worried about this lost hobbit out in the wilderness. Duinhir offered to share a small meal and help him get back. Isenbold happily accepted and noisily helped him to cook. Tobold and Gorboduc, who had followed a little further behind as backup, were able to sneak close and observe.
Meanwhile, at the river, Uffo was concerned that he’d taken 10 hobbits across and only seven were coming back. He demanded to know just how much trouble they’d stirred up over at the tower. Despite assurances that the others were on their way he ‘suggested’ that they go inside the tavern while he talked to a few friends. They noticed that within a very short time there were rather a lot of mature villagers doing odd jobs near the river and keeping an eye on the far bank. There were no hobbitlings or goodwives in sight at all. It still looked like a perfectly peaceful fishing village. Across at the camp, Tobold and Gorboduc watched Isenbold being fed and supplied with beer so decided there was no threat and left him to it. They too withdrew to the river and Uffo collected them with no fuss. Duinhir eventually persuaded his stray hobbit to trek a bit downriver to where his canoe was concealed out of sight of the river. He paddled Isenbold across and advised him to “just follow the path downriver.” Isenbold promptly stepped down the bank the other side and apparently vanished from sight. “Bloody hobbits!” moaned Duinhir, padding away.
The group reunited and started to get concerned about returning home in time for the wedding. Although the day was wearing late they opted to make as much progress as possible and got back to Carr Hole inn that night by lanternlight. They set out again at first light and got to Hardbottle by second breakfast but still had a long way to go. Young Pearl sulked some more. Mungo cast about and spotted a fast gig and pony for hire from The Hop Sack’s stables. Edgar chatted to the wherries heading up the Norbourn river but they were all cargo vessels. Confronted with pleas about being late for their own wedding, one skipper did relent and agree to take four passengers upriver. They sent the best men, Gorboduc and Marroc, on ahead in the fast gig to make explanations and endure reprimands. Marigold, Lily, Pearl and Mungo boarded the wherry as passengers. Tobold, Edgar, Halfred and Isenbold returned to The Hop Sack to sample the reddish beer with fruity flavour, caramel undertones and a slight hoppy aftertaste. They were delighted to recognise innkeeper Gerda Tinyfoot and her excellent food. A note from Sherriff Button found them and reassured them that no hobbitling was missing and there was no further evidence of foul play. The book remained a mystery.
In the afternoon the last group waited by Hardbottle’s wharves and hailed more vessels headed upriver. Eventually they found one which would get them to Kings Worthy no later than mid-morning on the 6th day of Winterfilth, the day before the wedding and just in time for rehearsals. Already back in Kings Worthy, Gorboduc and Marroc cleaned up and made a magnificent job of smoothing ruffled egos and frantic mothers. They spun a convincingly reassuring tale of removing the bridal party, suitable chaperoned, to Pitterfield to help with the apple harvest and soothe their nerves. It all sounded terribly reasonable. They even arranged for a bridal procession from the Dibbs wharves up to the marketplace full of well-wishers. The following day the final stragglers showed up, the rehearsal was got through, and some high society socialising became unavoidable. The rings and attire were collected and the bridesmaids were pleased to find that their silk dresses remained unruffled. At a private gathering in the Willow Lords Arms that evening, Marroc and Estella announced their engagement.
The day of the wedding dawned fine and clear. The groomsmen got a dazed Mungo presentable and steered him to the town hall in time for the ceremony. Dame Jowett, presiding, looked amused to see her assistant finally lost for words. The place was abundantly decorated with flowers in all shades of apricot and peach, the seats packed full of representatives from all the main families of the Shire (except for Baggins), and the line of groomsmen looked very elegant in their green frock coats (Madam Lavender only winced at Edgar’s colourful britches). The besotted principals manage to say “I do” at the appropriate times, their families signed the agreements and no-one objected to anything. Dame Jowett declared them husband and wife. Mungo and Lily led the happy gathering out to the floral (and florid) marquees for a magnificent feast and much lively dancing. Marroc led the toasts with a sentimental and extremely funny best man’s speech alluding to their bookishness and included some very selective anecdotes. Reginald Burrows also made a speech formally presenting a bequest (to Lily) from Mr Baggins to secure the future of their new bookstore. Gorboduc made another funny speech with even more anecdotes about the prolonged courtship, which led naturally to Edgar’s performance and presents. The happy couple received many lovely mathoms. Finally, they made a dash for the fast pony and gig awaiting outside and drove off into the sunset. “So, where are we going?” asked Lily. Mungo had no idea. He’d figure it out on the way.
