[piosenniel]

Berilac

‘Indeed,’ replied Berilac to Edward’s statement. ‘You have the right of it, Master Woolthistle. It is a man’s work to protect his town and family.’

The Ranger’s face was grave as he spoke these words, and he nodded at Edmund as he did so. ‘I shall pick you up then with the other volunteers tomorrow after school. We’ll work two hours; then the other team leader and I will escort you and the others home. A number of Hobbit men have volunteered already, and they will begin the work in shifts tomorrow morning.’ He looked up, his gaze taking in Andreth as well as Edmund. ‘We’ll start at the southern end and work our way to the North Gate. Should all go well, we can have most of the holes filled and the rest strengthened in a week’s time.’

Berilac and Andreth spoke for a few moments then he said his good-byes and turned to leave. He paused remembering his visit to the Comfrey house and Everard’s ‘patients’. ‘Oh, and Master Woolthistle, bring your little squirrel, if you wish. There is someone who might like to see him.’ With that, he turned to go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He had only gotten halfway down the street when the loud clattering of wagon wheels against the roadway caught his attention, that and the loud singing that sought to compete with them. Grinning, he ran toward the approaching convoy.

‘No wonder my sister sends you out of the house to run errands and see to the fields. Or that she sees to the milking of the goats herself.’

Griffo, his song cut off mid warble, looked down at his brother-in-law in mock disgust. ‘Are you implying, you poor excuse for a singer yourself, that my voice would curdle milk!’ Berilac arched his brows at the huffing Hobbit as if to emphasize his point. ‘Ah well, you’re probably right,’ said Griffo, laughing. ‘Britnie has even accused me of wilting the leaves of the turnips still snug in the ground.’ The two sturdy ponies which drew the wagon snorted at this and shook their heads. ‘See,’ said Griffo, ‘I have my admiring audience!’

The whys and wherefores of three Hobbit wagons laden with food stuffs were sorted out and Berilac was volunteered by his brother-in-law to return to the Pony with them and help unload. ‘We could use your puny help,’ he said, eyeing Berilac’s lithe frame. ‘And besides, Britnie wants to see you. You haven’t come by as yet. I’ll just strong arm you and take you home with me.’

‘Oh, you think so?! You and what muscle bound brigand will accomplish that?’ Berilac punched Griffo in the arm, who yelped as if he’d been injured. Grinning, and rubbing his upper arm, Griffo pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. Berilac turned back to see Rosco looking up at him. ‘Oh I can take him any day,’ the Ranger said smugly.

‘Perhaps,’ chuckled Griffo, ‘but not the one behind him.’ Berilac took in the massive frame of Tom Boffin on the third wagon. He turned back to Griffo and raised his arms in surrender. ‘I concede!’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The wagons pulled in through the archway of the Inn, stopping when they reached the back yard by the stables. The job of unloading and storing began. Berilac saw Edmund standing the shadow of the Inn’s side doorway staring at the menagerie that had landed at the Pony. ‘Come, Master Woolthistle, we have need of more men to help us.’

He motioned him to where Tom Boffin had unloaded the crate of rabbits, the one of chickens, and was now struggling to keep the litter of half grown, squealing piglets from running amok. ‘Find us someplace to pen these little ones in, young sir,’ said Tom, nodding at him. ‘We can get them some hay for bedding later.’ He reached down and grabbed an escaping piglet and penned him in the back of the wagon with his fellows. ‘Oh, and get yourself a little stick, and one for me, if you will. We’ll use them to keep the herd together as we move them.’

Edmund looked up at his mother who had come out to help. His gaze drifted back quickly toward Tom and the waiting animals . . .