Chapter 30
Heading east to Bywater felt counter-productive, but it was the quickest way to get to Tuckborough, which was fairly close to directly south of Hobbiton, given the fact that they were travelling in wagons. As they passed the Three Farthing Stone, Harry eyed the track that Bilbo pointed out and wondered if it was really worth the effort, the track looked to be wildly overgrown and unused.
Thankfully, that wasn’t really the case. Just a quarter mile along and the track became a road, broad and clear. Bilbo informed Harry, that the apparent overgrowth, was mostly to keep outside travellers on the main roads. Hobbits like to know that the people using their roads, were supposed to be there, not have them accidentally stumble on them.
~~~
June 19th and 20th 2920
Reaching Tuckborough was a challenge. The terrain between the Three Farthing Stone and the village was rough and wild. At times, Harry had insisted that the extra ponies were harnessed and hitched up, in front of a wagon, not necessarily the wagon that they normally pulled, either. Two of Lavender’s ponies were hitched in front of the heavier ponies that pulled Remus’ wagon, while his extra two ponies were hitched in front of Lavender’s.
All four of the ponies that usually pulled the feed wagon were hitched to it, while Raven, Athena were hitched in front of Ebony and Onyx, but Harry had unhitched his shop-cart so that Dancer and Delilah could pull it. Fred had also unhitched his shop cart, letting Rover pull it, with Storm in the little sulky and Golly pulling James’ almost empty cart.
“Musical wagons.” Lily shook her head in amusement.
“If it works and we get to Tuckborough without strained ponies, I don’t care.” Harry huffed.
It was a slow trip, taking most of the day to travel the relatively short distance of twelve-and-a-half miles.
Cresting a rise and seeing the village spread out below them, was a relief to them all and sighs could be heard coming from each wagon. It had the hobbits chuckling in response.
Bilbo and Belladonna pointed them to an open field, just on the edge of the village, and stood back as the group went into action, to make camp. Harry, Fred and Sirius saw to the unhitching, unharnessing, washing and feeding of the ponies, while Colin laid out the roped-off enclosures and James, Remus, Lily, Tonks and Lavender saw to positioning the wagons, not being able to use magic in front of the hobbits made it much harder, but they managed. And once camp was set, it was Harry, Lavender and James’ turn to see to their meal.
They had plenty of time to recover before meeting with the Thain on the 21st and Harry planned to use that time as best he could, to sort through his stock and see what needed to be replenished and what could be shuffled around, to be displayed better.
Likewise, Fred, Lavender and Colin spent the day doing the same, while Remus, Tonks and James, helped out where they could. Lily spent all her time brewing simple but effective potions, some for colds, some for headaches, some for upset stomachs, but a large proportion of what she made were women’s potions. Not necessarily contraceptive potions, but ones to ease the discomfort of their monthlies and to combat nausea in pregnancy. Sirius spent his time drawing, mostly designs and layouts for the House of Black, but he also did small sketches in a book that he bought from the communal stash.
~~~
June 21st 2920
Gerontius Took came as a surprise to Harry and he wasn’t sure why. Sure, the hobbit had bushy sideburns and long hair like a dwarf, but he had the ears, build and attitude of a hobbit. Harry was barely in the door, before the old hobbit was offering him food, drink and a seat.
“I’d much appreciate it, if you’d pour.” The hobbit’s voice was deep and mellow, it reminded Harry of the rich tones of Snape or Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“Certainly.” Harry nodded and after ensuring that the hobbit was comfortable in his seat, he lifted the delicate pottery teapot.
“So, what brings you to the Shire?” Gerontius asked.
“Trade, Thain Gerontius.” Harry answered, even though he wasn’t quite sure how to address the hobbit’s title.
“Just Gerontius, lad.” The old hobbit objected. “I only use the title occasionally, mostly it’s a pain the rump and just gets me landed with the paperwork.”
“The bane of the businessman, I’ve heard it called.” Harry replied.
“Oh, it is that.” The hobbit nodded. “So, trade? In what way?”
“It’s…” Harry wasn’t sure where to start. “We all come from a warzone. At different times, we tried to escape and while some made it, others didn’t. When I was a year old, it first became bad.” He gave the Voldemort war a middle-earth overtone, making sure to keep everything as factual as he could. “My parents joined the side that was trying to protect people, unaware that one of their friends had joined the enemy.” He knew that using the word ‘enemy’ would make Gerontius think of Mordor and he was fine with that. “He led the enemy straight to their doorstep and stood back and watched as they were killed by a senior officer.” Or the equivalent.
“Oh, lad…” Gerontius sighed.
“But that’s not what actually happened.” Harry went on. “Their house was destroyed and they assumed that I was killed, while the people that removed me from the rubble of the house, thought that they had been killed. A failure to communicate, shall we say? My parents came north and settled just this side of Bree. But I was alone. I was given to my mother’s sister to raise, which was a bad thing, she hated my mother and hated me for being my mother’s son…” He went on tell Gerontius his history, giving the entire story a middle-earth twist.
“Meeting up with Remus and Tonks was…” Harry paused. “It was a shock, a good one, but still a shock. We talked it over as a group and decided to continue north. In Tharbad we met with a number of dwarves and they all said much the same thing. Find a place between Bree and the Brandywine. All of them warned us not to try and buy a place in the Shire, that we wouldn’t be welcomed if we tried to buy a place and take over someone’s livelihood.”
“That is true.” Gerontius nodded.
“But that buying a place in Buckland and doing a trip as a travelling trader in the summer, would see us welcomed.” Harry added, conveniently leaving out how they'd met up with his parents.
“Hence wanting trade permits?” The old hobbit asked.
“Exactly.” Harry nodded. “We’ve bought a place just east of the Brandywine and we intend to build a home there.” He paused. “I say home, but Gorbadoc’s clerk, Orgulas, called it a settlement unto itself. A cross between a way-station, an inn and market.”
“Oh, now that could be interesting…” Gerontius pushed out his lower jaw and nodded consideringly. “Most hobbits don’t like going all the way to Bree for special items, but the Brandywine? That’s doable. Do you have a name for your settlement, yet?”
“Sort of…” Harry grimaced. “We settled on one, but it doesn’t feel right. If you know what I mean?”
“Oh, yes, naming things is tricky…” Gerontius agreed.
“So, you’re building a market settlement and you still want to do a trader’s run through the Shire in the summer?”
“We had planned on the trader’s runs before the settlement idea came along, that’s new. Less than a week since Orgulas first suggested it.”
“Ah…” Gerontius nodded. “Orgie’s a good clerk, he’d have spotted it fairly quickly.”
“He spotted it before we did.” Harry shrugged. “We’d not considered the size the place would be need to be, to cater to everything we were putting in it.”
“That happens, when you've a number of people travelling together.” The hobbit rocked his head. “What have you got as far as trades?”
Harry counted off the trades on his fingers, as he spoke. “I’m a locksmith, Fred’s a carver, Lavender and Colin do jewellery, Remus makes paper and will eventually make books, his wife Tonks is a brewer that needs a permanent base for her stills but will travel with Remus and sell some of her specialty brews, dad’s a potter and mum’s going to sell herbs and some home remedy potions.”
“That’s a fine collection.” Gerontius blinked. “Wasn’t there another fellow?”
“Sirius is going to manage the roadhouse.”
“Roadhouse?”
“Part halfway house, part ale house, part overnight accommodations.” Harry answered. “With hobbit run tearoom and dining room under the same roof.”
“Oh…” Gerontius was surprised. “And do you have hobbits to run them, yet?”
“We have recommendations, but we have yet to do anything about them.” Harry replied. “Until we have more than just an idea, it’s a little pointless. Once we know exactly where we are putting most of the buildings, then we’ll contact those suggested and start discussions.”
“That sounds fair. Who’s on your list, so far?”
“Adalina Brandybuck or Bellarosa Took for the Tearoom.” Harry answered. “Flambard Took, Fosco Baggins and Jasper Roundmeadow for the Dining room.”
“The girls are both good at their numbers as well as excellent cooks, you won’t go wrong with either of them. But the lads? I don’t know the Roundmeadow fellow, so I can’t judge him, but if you’re going to take Flambard on, you’ll need to have someone doing the management for him, he’s an excellent cook but anything more than that is… bad…”
“Ah.” Harry grunted.
“Having said that, Fosco’s wife, Ruby is not well and hasn’t been since she birthed their second son, nearly nine years past. Fosco’s been struggling to care for her, their three faunts and hold down a proper job. If he and Flambard were to work together? Fosco doing the management and Flambard, the cooking? You’d probably find that they’d do well together.”
Harry considered that information and reached for his ever-present notebook. “Do you mind?” He held it up. “That could come in handy, when we’re at that point.”
“Of course, lad.” Gerontius waved him on. “But back to your trade permits. I’d need to see a sample of you works, we do try to keep the riffraff traders out. Poor work is not something we hobbits support, you understand?”
“Oh, definitely.” Harry nodded.
“Excellent.” Gerontius beamed at him. “Shall we see to your paperwork before we visit your wagons? That way we won’t have to backtrack later.”
Fred watched as Gerontius subtly quizzed Lavender and Colin on various items in the display cabinets that they’d placed on legs, just as they would have if they were at a market. The fact that the old hobbit had done the same thing to Harry and himself, didn’t surprise him, they were young to be claiming the skills and ownership of a business. Even a small one, such as they had.
Fred nudged Harry and leant in towards the raven-haired dwarf. “Reckon he’ll do that to your mum and dad, too?”
“I would expect so.” Harry replied. “How else is he to know if they actually know what they’re doing?”
“Huh…” Fred grunted. “I hadn’t realised that was why, I thought it was more to do with our ages.”
“No,” Harry shook his head, “he was very clear, it would depend on the quality of our work, whether or not we got our permits. ‘Poor work is not something we hobbits support’, he said.”
“Huh…” Fred grunted again.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he even quizzes Sirius about the House.” Harry frowned. “And we gotta change the name of the settlement. London’s not gonna cut it.”
“It’s got to be something… something… iconic.” Fred stumbled over a descriptive for a few seconds.
“I know…” Harry groaned. “But what? We’ve already vetoed London, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade and Gryffindor. So, what do we choose?”
“Harry, there are only three places that instantly come to mind. Diagon, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts.” Fred chided.
“And what about names? Could we use a person’s name, instead?”
“Okay…” Fred huffed. “Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Potter, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Merlin, Pomfrey, Sprout, Flitwick, Mrs Norris…” He trailed off. “What other names are instantly recognisable?”
“Dolohov, Voldemort, Snape, Malfoy, Bellatrix, Greyback…” Harry added, with a grimace. “Not all of them are good.”
“Alright, what about animals?” Fred asked. “Griffin, thestral, phoenix, dragon, snidget, Niffler, hippogriff, kneazle, harpy, veela, leprechaun…”
“… Or plants!” Harry gasped. “Whomping Willow. We have two. We can put one in the middle of an island in one of the ponds. Or make a new pond in the middle of the settlement and put one there.”
Fred’s eyes widened. “But you were going to take them to Erebor. Don’t you need a male and a female tree for pollination? Do you think you could get a cutting off of one?”
“I need to talk to mum.” Harry said instead of answering. “Mum! Mum? How do I propagate a whomping willow?” Harry was asking as he crossed the campsite to find his mother.
“A what?” Lily asked. “Why would you…?” She frowned. “Harry, why would want to do that?”
“Also…?” James asked, his head appearing from around their cart. “Where would you get one, to propagate from?”
“I’ve got two seedlings.” Harry answered. “We’re going to have a pond in the middle of the settlement which we’re going to name after the tree that we’re going to plant on an island on the pond.” It all came out in a rush.
“Excuse me?” Lily asked.
Harry took a deep breath and tried to explain. “We’re going to have a pond. In the middle of the settlement. With an island in the middle of the pond. We’re going to plant a Whomping Willow on the island. And we’re going to name the settlement after that tree.” He counted each sentence off on his fingers.
“Oh.” James replied, blankly. “Okay.”
“So, mum? How do I propagate a Whomping Willow? And can I force grow it?”
“Oh, dear…” Lily sighed. “It would depend on whether the trees are male or female, Harry.”
“How do we check?”
“The males are far more… active.” She was watching Gerontius as he spoke to Lavender and Colin. “Perhaps, we can discuss this later this evening?” She nodded towards the hobbit. “We do have other things to think about right now.”
“Bollocks…” Harry muttered.
“Language.” Lily chided gently. “But there’s a couple of options and we can talk about them over dinner.”
“Great! Thanks, mum.” Harry beamed and bounced back over to Fred. “Whomping Willow, that’s what we’re calling the place. Everyone who went to Hogwarts knows about the Whomping Willow.”
“Huh…” Fred grunted a third time. “That’s better than London…”
“Much better.” Harry agreed.
“Hey, Harry!” Colin called from the far side of the camp. “Can you come over here?”
“Duty calls.” Harry gave Fred a slap on the shoulder and trotted over to join Colin, Lavender and Gerontius. “You called?” He asked the younger blonde.
“Yeah.” Colin grinned at his friend. “Thain Took suggested that if we’ve the stock that we might open our stalls to the locals, this afternoon.”
“Uh…” Harry made a thinking noise. “Could we do that, tomorrow? It’s just that lunch is already been and gone and it wouldn’t give anyone a chance to do much more than set up, before they had to take everything down, before evening.”
“Oh…” Gerontius looked up at the sky. “I hadn’t realised it had gotten so late in the day. No, tomorrow is definitely better.” His eyes narrowed slyly. “It would also give me a chance to spread the word around the village, let people know.”
Harry grinned. “They can hardly see what we have to sell, if they don’t know that we’re selling anything. Now, can they?” He couldn’t pull off an innocent expression, and he knew it, so he went for an earnest one, instead.
Gerontius took one look at Harry’s face and threw his head back in laughter. “Oh, lad…” He leant against Colin and Lavender’s wagon as he laughed. After a few minutes, he wiped his cheeks and heaved a deep breath. “Oh, that was good,” he nodded, “very good. And very true. I’ll spread the word, there’ll be a market here tomorrow. If you could ease your wagons over a few yards, have your stalls where the wagons are, right now? That would leave plenty of room for some of our local traders.”
“We can do that.” Harry nodded. “So, you’re happy with the quality of our wares?”
“Oh, yes, most certainly.” Gerontius nodded. “I’ve yet to see anything, that I’d reject a permit over. The potter's work is very fine, as good as any from the west farthing. His white pottery is quite unusual and I’d say it would be well received. I hope he has a fair amount of it?”
“I think so.” Harry replied. “I know we closed down his storage shed and emptied his kiln, before we left the Breefields.”
“Is your new place going to have access to white clay, for him?”
Harry blinked. “I think so… The mud around where the eastern stream feeds into the ponds, is pale, but I don’t know if it’s suitable for pottery or not, dad’s the potter, it’ll be up to him to determine that.”
“Well, there’s a chance, anyway.” Gerontius looked hopeful. “White pottery is highly sought after. The finer, the better.”
“Well, you saw dad’s work, it’s not coarse at all.”
“No, it’s not.” The hobbit nodded. “Oh, your permits.” He held out the sheaf of papers and watched as Harry carefully accepted them. “You might want to have your woodcarver make a few picture frames to keep them in, and bring them with you when you tour the Shire. Give your buyers the opportunity to see them, to know that you have permission to trade within our borders.”
“Thank you.” Harry said quietly and gave the hobbit a formal bow, such as he would to Gorbadoc, Thorin or anyone else of their ranking.
“Not at all, young Master.” Gerontius nodded back. “Now, iffen you don’t mind, I’ve a few questions for your apothecary?”
“Certainly, sir.” Harry stepped back and gestured for Gerontius to move on, when he was ready.
In the hustle of moving the wagons and altering the positions of the ponies’ enclosures, the subject of the Whomping Willow was raised and agreed. The matter was shelved until they had the opportunity to sit and talk about it, without being concerned about eavesdropping hobbits. Which would probably mean, not until they were back across the Brandywine river. But they all agreed, that the settlement's name would be The Whomping Willow's Pond.
~~~
June 22nd 2920
Ye Gads, hobbits move quick.
The first stalls started to appear shortly after dawn and Harry exchanged morning pleasantries with a number of smiling faces, as he erected the awning from the rear of his shop-cart, before going to help Lavender and Colin set up their display cabinets. Between the seven of them that were putting wares out to sell, they had a corner of the field well stocked.
Harry’s cart sat on one path with Colin and Lavender on the corner, followed by a table covered with Remus’ paper and a few blank books pulled from the stash. Next was Lily and her herbs and potions, lotions and balms. On the far side of her was James and his pottery. He’d carefully laid out a pair of tables and loaded the back of his cart with pile after pile of pottery, everything from mugs, to teapots, to plates, to bowls, to candle holders, to platters and so much more. Completing their corner was Fred’s cart, with a collection of boxes, stools, bowls, spoons, ladles, trays, matts, trivets and so many other items, even a couple of fancy spice cabinets and oddment drawers.
Sirius and Tonks had volunteered to check out the market and come back, giving anyone that needed it, a break or just a helping hand.
The first customers started trickling in, within an hour of dawn, but once they started, they never seemed to stop.
Sirius appeared at Harry’s shoulder at one point and gave him a mug of tea and a bread roll, stuffed with chicken and salad before telling him that he would staff the stall for twenty minutes and to go and check out the other stalls. When he got back, Sirius moved on and gave Remus a break, while Tonks stepped in for Lavender and then Lily. James had laid out what he said was half his stock, wanting to keep some for the market in Hobbiton, and by mid-morning had sold it all. He assured those that asked, that he would be back the next summer with plenty more stock and even accepted a few orders for sets, dinner sets and tea sets, plus one for a set of large mixing bowls.
The sun was high in the sky but well past midday, when a middle-aged hobbit walked around the market calling out to the shoppers. “Time! Time! Time!” He wasn’t quite yelling, but his voice projection was strong and clear. “Thirty minutes! Thirty minutes! Thirty minutes!” He kept walking and began to repeat the cry. “Time! Time! Time!”
Harry blinked at the hobbit before turning to the older hobbitess that he had been assisting and raised a brow in question.
“That would be Fortinbras Took,” she said, “he’s the Old Took’s eldest grandson and like to be Thain after his Uncle and father. He’s also the Town Crier, just letting us know how long before the market closes. This isn’t our usual Sterday market, it being Hevensday and all.”
“Ah.” Harry nodded. “Thank you for the explanation.”
“You’re not a hobbit, young sir, we can’t be expecting you to know these things, iffen we don’t tell you.” The hobbitess replied. “And that being said? This purse, here? How much is it and do you take tharni and castar?”
Bilbo, Sigi and Rori had briefly explained that four tharni equalled one castar, which in turn equalled one florin. For anything over a castar, hobbits used the internationally accepted sovereigns, crowns and sceptres. Once they’d spoken to Gorbadoc, James and Remus had suggested that they do a Summoning at Brandy Hall, focusing mostly on coins, precious metals, gems and jewellery. And while it had been successful, it had only acquired them a small number of the usual coins, instead, it had mostly been Shire coins. One copper, one silver. The copper tharni being much larger than the silver castar, but otherwise both had the impression of a tree on one side and a stalk of wheat on the reverse.
“I will, Madam.” Harry nodded. “And that particular purse is seven florins. Seven castar, if you prefer.”
“Seven?” She eyed the purse again. “Would you consider a trade?”
“That would depend on the item being traded.” Harry replied.
“I like to do a little weaving in the afternoons, while the light lets me.” She explained. “I have yards of my work in the cupboard.”
“Yes, I’d be interested in trading.” Harry nodded. Even plain-woven cloth would be useful, if it had designs or images on it, even better. “How would you like to do this? Bring samples here? Or shall I accompany you to them?”
“Allow me to speak to Fortinbras and see if he will bear witness.” She requested. “If he will, I would have you accompany me, I live just over there.” She pointed to a bright yellow door, that could only be half seen around the trunk of a huge sweet chestnut tree.
“Certainly, Madam. I’ll keep the purse aside, for now.” Harry assured the hobbitess.
“Thank you, I shall return in a few moments.” She nodded to Harry and disappeared into the crowd, almost instantly, and Harry turned to the young hobbit lad that had been hovering at the edges of his stall.
“Can I help you?” Harry guessed that the lad was at least a few years younger than he, somewhere between twelve and fifteen, but certainly no older.
“I want to buy a purse for my sister, but I don’t have many coins.” The boy whispered.
“Would you like to trade something for a purse?” Harry asked and smiled as the boy’s face lit up.
“Oh, yes, please.” The boy nodded fervently.
“What would you trade?”
“I… I don’t know…” The boy’s enthusiasm faltered, but Harry had had an idea.
“Do you see those plants there?” He pointed at his wagon, that was only a few yards away. On the side of it hung his shelves with their ceramic pots and beside them sat the two Whomping Willow seedlings, charmed stationary.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you seen any of those, growing wild?”
“Oh, yes, sir!” The boy’s enthusiasm returned. “The willows and the one with the shiny leaves. Oh and the flowers that look like butterflies.”
“You bring me whatever you can find, by sunset, and I will give you one tharni for every one of those plants you can find me, but only if you bring them back today, my friends and I are leaving for Hobbiton in the morning.”
“…ooh…” The boy gasped. “I know where to find them, I can get lots of them.”
“I want the whole plant, roots and all.” Harry warned. “I want to grow them on.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy nodded. “I understand, sir. Living plants, not dead ones.”
“Living plants.” Harry agreed. “You bring me living plants and I’ll pay you, with coins. And a purse for your sister.”
“By sunset? I can do that.” The boy took a step back. “I’ll come back.”
“I know.” Harry laughed and waved the boy away.
“Nice going, there.” Colin chuckled. “He’s excitable.”
“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Harry laughed again.
“Gee, thanks.” Colin huffed and went to help Lavender tidy and pack away their cabinets.
“Mister locksmith?” The elderly hobbitess was back and with her was another hobbit, the same one was the town crier.
“Madam.” Harry gave her a head and shoulders bow.
“Mister locksmith, this is Fortinbras Took, grandson of the Old Took.” The hobbitess said, by way of an introduction.
“Greetings, Fortinbras, son of Isumbras.” Harry remembered Bilbo’s comments about who was who in his very convoluted family. “I am Harry, son of James.”
“Greetings to you, Master Harry.” Fortinbras nodded back. “The lady is Isadora… daughter of Helton.” He added the dwarven style of introduction.
“Lady Isadora.” Harry gave her a slight bow.
“Mister Harry has a purse that I like.” Isadora said. “And he’s prepared to consider my weaving as a trade.” She explained to Fortinbras.
“Ah. I had wondered what would make you ask for a witness.” Fortinbras nodded in understanding. “I have some time, before grandfather will want a report on the market. Shall we?”
“I’ll close up for you, Harry.” Sirius appeared at Harry shoulder.
“Thanks, Sirius.” Harry smiled at his godfather, bright and happy, before turning to fetch the purse that Isadora had admired. “May I escort you, Madam?” He had found that Tavric’s advice of additional courtesies to the older ladies, was sound and had made a practice to treat them as he would McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey. Isadora blinked and smiled, before accepting Harry’s hand. He placed it on the crook of his arm and gestured. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” Isadora laughed gently and the pair walked towards the road, with Fortinbras following them.
Across the field, across the road, through a gate in a hedge, up a set of steps and in through a bright yellow door. The inside of the smial was much cooler than the warm afternoon outside and after a few seconds to acclimate to the change, Harry looked around. The smial was small and neat, the wooden surfaces gleamed in the reflected light, giving an unexpected sense of cosiness. Isadora gave a gentle tug on Harry’s arm and eased him into what was clearly a parlour.
“If you would like to sit, I have fresh juice and sweet buns in the kitchen.” She was gone before Harry could agree or object.
Harry exchanged a glance with Fortinbras and shrugged. “I guess we sit?”
“Indeed we do.” The older hobbit nodded and gestured for Harry to choose his seat. “Grandfather says that you came from the south.” Fortinbras continued. “How do the Shire’s markets compare to those in the towns of the Tall Folk?”
“In all honesty?” Harry said. “I prefer the Shire. Tall Folk are… Tall. And few have decent manners. They seem to think they are doing you a favour by viewing your wares, even if they have no intention of buying. I much prefer dealing with honest people.”
“Tall Folk…” Fortinbras sighed.
“I did find that those in the cities were better,” Harry went on, “at least as far as manners were concerned. And they were certainly far more helpful than some larger towns turned out to be. The smaller villages were fine, but towns? No, I didn’t think much of them. The market today, was as well represented as any I’ve attended. Although, I did note that there were few offering services, mostly it was produce.”
“Ah, yes, our trades-hobbits tend not to advertise. It's not really necessary, when one has so many family members they can call upon, someone will know what to do, or will know someone that knows.” Fortinbras replied, as Isadora returned with a tray, holding a pitcher of pale juice and plates with small buns and biscuits.
Harry quickly stood and relieved her of the tray, placing it on the low table, where she directed.
“Oh, thank you, young Master.” She smiled.
For a few minutes, various general subjects were raised and dropped, the weather, the market, the condition of the roads, the upcoming harvests. But eventually, Isadora decided that social niceties had been observed and she raised the subject of her weaving.
“Are you more interested in plain fabric, simple designs or something a little more intricate?”
“Lady Isadora, I find that the quality of the product to more important than it’s design.” Harry answered. “That said? It does depend on the use that the item is intended for. I see no reason to have an intricately woven dishcloth, but a cushion cover is far more attractive with flowers than with simple stripes.”
“I see.” She nodded. “Excuse me, while I fetch a few samples.” It was only seconds before she returned with an armful of cloth and laid them out over an unused chair.
“Oh my…” Harry exclaimed quietly. He stood and took the few steps needed to reach the chair. His fingers reached for a cloth before he paused and looked to Isadora. “May I?”
“Of course.” She nodded.
He’d expected a broader weave, like that of a tea towel, but this was as fine as the brocades that formal wizarding robes were made from.
“Lady Isadora, these are stunning.” Harry whispered. “They’re worth far more than my simple little purses.”
“Master Harry?” Fortinbras spoke up. “Missus Isadora is considered an expert in her trade, but she is long retired. Few will pay well for a retired weaver’s work, not when there are younger, more… flamboyant… weavers to purchase from.”
“If I may be honest, sir?” Isadora’s eyes glistened. “When my husband fell ill, I stopped work to care for him, and when he died, I felt no desire to weave. It has only been the last year that I have taken up my shuttle again and now… There are few that will buy my cloth, they say that it is not bright enough, not vibrant enough, not intricate enough, not fine enough. Even when I attempt the designs that are favoured, few are interested in my work. I fear that soon, I will not be able to afford to keep going. That I may not be able to retain my home, it is rented from my husband’s family and they… They do not like me, they believe that my Tengo married below his station.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Isadora, I would happily buy whatever you wish to sell. Any or all.” He paused. “But more than that? My friends and I, my chosen family… We have bought land on the other side of the Brandywine, large enough to build a new village, which is what I think we are going to end up doing… Just the nine of us, wanting homes of our own, is going to be a small village, by itself. I would offer you a place with us. A place where your work is valued, is wanted, is respected.”
The two hobbits gasped in surprise.
“I do not expect you to take such an offer lightly.” Harry held up a hand to stall any questions or objections. “Instead I would suggest that you consider it. Think on it. Talk to those you trust.” He nodded to Fortinbras.
“What do you offer?” Fortinbras asked. “Isadora is an expert in her trade, with decades of experience behind her.”
Harry considered that for a few moments. “I would offer her a home, a smial of her own, outright, not rented. With room for her looms. A stall for whatever she wishes to sell, whenever she wishes to use it. With contracts to ensure that none of it can be taken from her.”
“A contract would do that?”
“It would.” Harry nodded. “But this has been thrust upon you, with little opportunity to consider it. Think on it. My friends and I are departing in the morning, but if my offer is one that you would like to discuss further, send me a letter and I will return to Tuckborough. I will meet with you and whomever you wish. For now? With your consent, I would purchase these cloths.” He selected four pieces of cloth and placed them aside.
~~~