Son of Fleetfoot by Kathryn Ramage

After Sam and Pippin had gone off on their errand, Milo chose a spot at the end of the field to leave Moro tending Candlestick. It should have been a thrilling day for the young boy, riding in his first race, but he looked nearly as morose as his elder brother who had stayed home. Then Milo and Lad went to seek out the other pony owners. Frodo followed, intending to listen in on the conversations and make his observations without being noticed; if he went in the company of his cousin and Lad, everyone who recognized him would assume he was investigating something; the one who had taken Fleetfoot would certainly guess what he was after and be on guard.

The first people to hear the news were Godolpho Brownlock and Brugo Folgray. The two were old friends and long-term rivals; they were looking over each other's ponies with professional appreciation and jealousy, but their main point of contention today was not between each other.

"A girl-rider!" cried Brugo indignantly as Lad and Milo approached. "Have you heard? That Broombindle chit's been in the jumps for years, and now her mother means to let her run that new pony of theirs in the long races. She's riding against us."

"`Tisn't fair," grumbled Godolpho. "I'd put my boy on Windchaser, but he's only three and can't hold onto the reins properly yet. This is all your fault, Milo Burrows--You were the one who started this fashion for children riding the races, when you put Mosco on Fleetfoot that first time and found he went so much faster than he did with Lad's weight on his back. How d'you think Myrtle'll stand up against your lad on Fleetfoot? She's not the feather-light wisp she used to be, but she's still lighter than Mosco."

"Where is your Mosco, by the way?" asked Brugo, looking around. "He's not ill, is he?"

"No," said Milo. "He's staying home, to look after Fleetfoot." He told them the agreed-upon tale of a strained fetlock. Lad offered to introduce them to Candlestick. Frodo watched the two closely for their reactions.

Godolpho was simply surprised. "You're letting little Moro ride today--and on a unknown pony? Well, I wish him luck."

Brugo was dismayed. "Oh, well, that's it then," he said. "It's a children's and colts' race. We may as well go home, Dolph, until our little ones are big enough to ride."

"Hush!" said Godolpho. "Here she comes!"

A young girl, just entering her tweens, was heading straight for them, smiling. She flung her arms around Lad's neck and kissed his cheek, for she had known him since she was no older than his own daughter.

"Laddie-dear, you must come and see Twinks--quickly now, before the first race starts," Myrtle demanded. "Tell me if he's fit to be a match for your Fleetfoot today. Mama says he is, but she would regardless. It's not improper, is it? Mr. Brownlock and Mr. Folgray came and looked Twinks over, so you and Mr. Burrows might as well too. I saw you brought Candlestick. I didn't think you meant to introduce him `til tomorrow."

When Lad explained the last-minute substitution, Myrtle looked momentarily dismayed. "Oh, I'm so sorry about Fleety--I hope he'll be all right." Then she brightened. "But I must say I'm glad to be up against Moro on Candlestick. We can beat them. We've done it half a dozen times already!"

While Lad went with Myrtle to look at Twinkletoes and give his opinion, Milo sought out Happ Broadbanks.

"So that's Fleetfoot's colt, is it? I wondered when I saw you lead him into the field. Yes, of course, I must have a look at him." The jolly young hobbit left his own pony, Shooting Star, to the care of his rider, and with Milo leading the way, went over to Candlestick, who was beginning to draw attention. A circle of curious pony fanciers was gathering. As they made their way through the crowd, Frodo could see Sam and Pippin: Sam was chatting with a local farmer whom Frodo knew to be Lad's neighbor, Mr. Burdock; Pippin was talking with one of the racing brokers, those hobbits more mathematically skilled than their fellows who worked out complicated odds on the races and took wagers from anybody who had the ready money. The broker was removing Fleetfoot's name from his slate and writing in Candlestick's at less favorable odds. Frodo also caught a glimpse of another familiar face in the circle around Candlestick, one he was less pleased to see.

"Well, he looks a bit skittish, but I daresay he'll get used to the crowds once he's run a few times," Happ declared once he had examined Candlestick. I admit, I'm curious to see if the bloodline runs true and he's as fast as his father. I asked your boy Mosco once if you were going to breed Fleetfoot out--he told me you weren't, but perhaps if this one does well, I can persuade you and Lad to change your minds. I have a new colt of my own, by the by, out of my filly, White Flash. You know White Flash. She foaled last autumn, a nice little black-and-white creature with the longest legs you've ever seen. At least, not since your own Fleetfoot was a colt." He gave Milo an odd smile, then laughed. "I'll bring him out in two or three years and we'll see how he fares."

"Hoy there! Milo Burrows!" the local farmer whom Frodo knew to be Mr. Burdock, Lad's neighbor, was coming toward them with Sam not far behind. "What's this I hear? Your friend, Mr. Gamgee here, tells me that Fleetfoot isn't running today? I say--I am sorry to hear that." He sounded sincerely contrite. "Fleetfoot's a fine pony. I'd hate to see such a good racer come to harm, and hope he'll be back on the course again soon."

"We hope so too," said Milo. "Are you racing Blue Blazes today?"

Mr. Burdock shook his head. "Not this Lithetide. She's just come into season. It'd upset every ungelded male for miles around if I brought her here today."

Happ gave Mr. Burdock a quick and curious glance, and smiled again as if he were sharing a private joke. But Mr. Burdock, while he returned the look, did not smile back.
You must login (register) to review.