From the North Downs: Chapter II

While Ketilve hitched horse to wagon Jesmond began an inventory of the larder. There were slabs of cheese and jars of jams and loaves of bread along with assorted vegetables from the garden. Not all of the supplies would last very long, but with the coming of the winter the family had stored as much as possible to last until the land had thawed again in the Spring. 

She could only hope that they were able to carry enough with them to last until it was safe to return to their homes. There were several haversacks hanging from the larder door, and she began filling them up, careful lest any of the jars break. 

The sound of slippered feet could be heard pattering down the hallway, then a hesitant voice asked, “Mama?” 

“Come in, lass,” Jesmond beckoned for the girl to come forward without looking up from her work. “This sack is full, take it on out to the wagon. Then go back and fetch the linens. We’ll need those extra clothes and as many blankets as possible for the coming winter.” 

She continued filling haversacks with food until the pantry was empty. No jars lined shelves, no spices hung from the ceiling. She had searched every nook and cranny, but not even a crumb lay upon the floor. With a satisfied sigh she turned her attention to the other rooms in the house: There were ointments and creams and syrups for typical ailments, there was the mending kit for rips and tears in garments. There was the elderly dog to lead hobbling to the wagon. Once all of this was loaded in the wagon she stood and watched the chickens with a frown. 

“I’m afraid there’s no way we can coop them all up and fit them in the wagon...” She sighed regretfully. They would provide good meat and eggs, but tending them through a potentially long and homeless winter was untenable. 

Ketilve wrapped both arms around Jesmond’s waist, her pale skin in stark contrast to the older woman’s sun-darkened hues. “We won’t be gone long, will we, mama?” 

Jesmond ran rough fingers through the young woman’s flaxen hair. “I wish I knew, Tilve.” 

There were enough homestead families that she couldn’t even guarantee they would find room once they reached Trestlebridge. Perhaps they would find themselves searching even further afield for safety, away from the North Downs and towards the Bree-Land. 

But perhaps not everyone had heeded the words of the rangers. Certainly not everyone trusted them, mysterious and aloof as they were. If few fled as counseled then there would perhaps be room yet. 

“But I don’t wish room at the expense of others,” She murmured. Ketilve looked at her questioningly and she shook her head. “Let us set out supper. Auntie Hay and Wosi will surely be famished when they return.”