While There’s Breath...

Whence Cometh This Story?

It might have something to do with hearing someone sing “Irene, Good Night” recently, which made it run in my head for a few days, and then when we had a fire going on the hearth I thought back to a camping trip, where a counsellor named Bruce told us a story he’d read earlier that summer—well, it was a book, really, later made into a movie—that had made a great impression on him. He must have told the story well, for though I’ve not yet seen the movie or read the book, parts of the story still remain vivid in my imagination.

The book was called Sometimes a Great Notion, written by Ken Kesey. (Yes, that Ken Kesey, the one who wrote One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.) I looked it up just now, and from the reviews it must be a powerful book indeed. I’ve put it on my summer reading list, as a matter of fact, though I hear it’s some 600 pages. Ah, well, Lord of the Rings is longer and I made it all the way through.

Music and lyrics by Huddie Ledbetter and John Lomax, 1950

(Chorus)
Irene, good night; Irene, good night.
Good night, Irene; Good night, Irene;
I'll see you in my dreams.

Last Saturday night, I got married,
Me and my wife settled down
Now me and my wife are parted,
I'm gonna take another stroll downtown.

Sometimes I live in the country,
sometimes I live in town,
Sometimes I take a great notion,
To jump into the river and drown.

I love Irene, God knows I do,
I'll love her till the seas run dry
But if Irene should turn me down,
I'd take the morphine and die.

Stop rambling, stop your gambling;
Stop staying out late at night,
Go home to your wife and your family
Stay there by your fireside bright.

I found a midi file at this location:
http://www.rienzihills.com/SING/goodnightirene.htm

It’s a mournful song, indeed, and a haunting one. No wonder I’ve been singing it on and off the past few days.

But then, it also has something to do with “Runaway”, a story I wrote, and scrapped, and that JoDancingtree picked up off the rubbish pile and rescued. She breathed life back into the story, enabling me to stitch up its wounds and finish it.

In “Runaway”, Thain Peregrin has a bad scare in which his son disappears and an apparent conspiracy between his most trusted hobbits is unearthed. Did I say “apparent”? Well, the conspiracy was real, but it wasn’t that the hobbits were in league with ruffians, more that they were trying to prevent a scandal precipitated by the son of the Thain taking it into his head to run away.

In the story, one or more of Pippin’s advisors allow their imaginations to run away with them, and Pippin and Merry allow their emotions to run away with them, and... but let us not belabour the title of the story. In any event, a great wrong is very nearly perpetrated, and when the dust settles new trust has to be built between Pippin and the hobbits who are nearest him, including Ferdibrand. The trust is fragile, but you can see the potential for growth by the end of the story.

A reader commented (was it you, FantasyFan? It has been so long, and I’ve lost the note) that it might be good to see Ferdi and Pippin in a situation where Ferdi must trust his cousin, and Pippin can prove the oath he took to be as loyal to the hobbits who serve him as they are to him.

And so we have this story, which I fear does much too closely resemble “In the Greening of the Year” for my comfort, but sometimes things work out that way. What you will read here is how the story wrote itself out, and hopefully it is not so terribly repetitious that you turn away and mutter that you already know what’s going to happen. Really, you don’t...

Chapter 1. Me and My Wife Settled Down

 ‘If you refuse to listen to my advice then why do you bother to ask for it at all?’ Ferdibrand said between his teeth, and then he closed his eyes and swore a bitter oath under his breath. The Thain had been wondrously tractable since they’d reached an agreement of sorts a few months previously, but a few weeks ago he’d begun to mouth the bit, and that led to a tossing of the head, so to speak, and now it seemed he was threatening to kick the traces over completely.

So much for his word.

The suddenness of Pippin’s capitulation took him by surprise. ‘Of course, Ferdibrand,’ the Thain said quietly. ‘You have the right of it.’

He opened his eyes to see his cousin frowning with concern. ‘Is it your head?’ Pippin asked.

Truth be told there was a nagging ache at the back of his head and an echo near one temple, remainder from the spring storm that had passed over the previous day. He clenched his fists together under the desk, that he might not unconsciously raise a hand to rub at the pain.

 ‘My head is fine,’ he said. Well, for the most part it was.

Pippin sat back, though his eyes were still watchful.

Careful, Ferdi, or he’ll be sending for the healers, next thing you know, and they’ll be forcing bitter draughts down your throat, Ferdibrand thought to himself. He forced his muscles to relax, leaning back in his chair, easing his posture.

 ‘I must go to Pincup, but you say the streams are too high for safe crossing,’ Pippin said. ‘So what do you suggest? Take the long way round? That’d take days, to go there and back again! And we’re due in Buckland on the fifteenth of March!’

 ‘Perhaps we ought to work something out with the Master of Buckland,’ Reginard put in. ‘Borrow their engineers to build a few bridges over the streams. The way to Pincup ought not to depend on dry weather!’

 ‘They’ve always been an independent lot,’ Pippin said, momentarily distracted, but then he returned to the point. ‘Nevertheless, Regi, I must go to Pincup now, to speak with old Hildibald before he departs this world. I’m honour-bound... I cannot wait on the building of a few bridges!’

 ‘If you go by way of the Cockerel, perhaps the way is too dangerous,’ Reginard said, ‘but what about the other track you know, Ferdi, the one across the fields and into the woods? Is that one better, perhaps? I remember a bridge or two along that route.’

 ‘The water would still be higher than it usually is,’ Ferdi said, striving to concentrate. ‘And the way would be muddy, and treacherous in places.’

 ‘So we ride slow and sure-footed ponies instead of our fine racers,’ Pippin said. ‘Your Star and my Firefoot will be all the better for the rest and the good grazing. One thing you can say about all the rain we’ve had lately: the grass be greening!’

 ‘So it be,’ Regi agreed.

 ‘Tolly’s Meadowsweet is down with fever,’ Ferdi said, changing the subject. It seemed as if he had no choice but to plan this journey, so he might as well start now. First off they needed to establish who the Thain’s escort would be, this trip, whether or not Pippin acknowledged the need to be escorted. It would be better not to take the head of the Thain’s escort from his wife’s side; it would lead to Talk amongst the Tooks, for one thing, and Tolly would not have his mind on his business for another. ‘And if you’re planning to spend a week in Pincup...’

 ‘Aye,’ Pippin said, ‘we’ll leave Hilly here in the Smials. He’s earned a rest.’ Hildibold had ridden at the Thain’s side to Michel Delving the previous week, through one of the recent blustery storms in point of fact, and had been glad to return to hearth and wife. He aimed a mischievous glance at Ferdibrand. ‘Why not leave all the escort here, this trip?’

 ‘Haldi,’ Ferdibrand said, ignoring the half-jest. ‘Haldigrim will accompany you, cousin.’

 ‘And yourself as well,’ Pippin said. ‘You know that track better than anyone else, after all. It wouldn’t do to get lost on the way to Pincup.’

 ‘Or on the way back,’ Reginard put in. ‘But a week away, at this time...’

 ‘I need Ferdibrand there,’ Pippin said. ‘You know that, Reg. He’s better than a whole sheaf of papers, what with his memory for talk...’

 ‘Of course,’ Ferdi said, rising from the desk. ‘I’ll make the arrangements.’ He gave a peremptory bow and left the Thain’s study.

 ‘What do you know that I do not know?’ Pippin said, eyes narrowing as he regarded Reginard.

 ‘It’s not my news to tell,’ Regi temporised, but Pippin rose from his desk and stalked over to Regi’s desk, to stand looking down on his steward. Being the tallest hobbit in the history of the Shire, he looked down quite a ways.

 ‘What do you know?’ he said again sternly.

Regi sighed, caught between amusement and chagrin. The news would come out soon enough, but his wife Rosamunda would be quite put out with him for letting it slip. She was a healer, and took her responsibilities, including the confidence of her charges, seriously. Quite seriously.

 ‘Nell’s expecting again,’ Regi said.

 ‘What!’ Pippin responded, eyes widening. ‘She just had little Flora—’

 ‘A few months ago; I know,’ Regi said. ‘Seems as Pimpernel and Ferdibrand are making up for lost time.’

 ‘Regi!’ Pippin reprimanded, but there was a thoughtful look in his eye. Pimpernel was nothing if not prolific—six children with her first husband, may his dreams be peaceful ones, and now expecting another with Ferdibrand, their third since they’d settled down together just a few years ago! She seemed likely to fulfil the old wedding toast, wishing a dozen children on the happy couple—fulfil or perhaps surpass it! He settled for saying, ‘So I’m to be an uncle again. Well, well.’

He stretched, achieving even more towering height above Reginard, and then turned and ambled back to his desk, sitting down and picking up the next piece of paper from the pile. ‘So,’ he said conversationally. ‘Is there aught wrong? Is Nell in any danger, quickening again so soon after the last?’

Regi held his breath. It truly was not his news to tell, confidences overheard between healer-wife and Thain’s sister.

Pippin raised his eyes from the paper to fix the steward with a piercing look. ‘Is there?’ he repeated, steel in his tone.

 ‘Nell’s been a little run-down,’ Regi said softly. ‘Not gaining back from the last birthing as quick as she might. Why, she’s downright thin. Rosa told her she’d have to eat every two hours without fail, and even arise in the middle night to take a meal.’

 ‘Does Ferdi know?’ Pippin said.

Regi laughed. ‘What do you think?’

The Thain very deliberately laid the paper down on the desk and leaned forward. ‘Of course he knows she’s expecting again,’ he said slowly, spacing his words. ‘Does he know that the healers are worried?’

 ‘Nell – doesn’t want to worry him,’ Regi said, unusually diffident. He straightened and said briskly, ‘Really, Rosa says there’s no danger, so long as she follows the healers’ advice and stuffs herself like a fowl for the roasting.’

Unexpectedly Pippin laughed. ‘I can believe that Nell doesn’t want to worry him!’ he said. ‘All she needs is Ferdi hovering over her, counting every mouthful and urging ever more food on her!’ He sobered. ‘But I truly need him, Regi. Old Hildibald knows more of Shire history than any ten other hobbits put together, but he’s never bothered to write down more than a handful of what he knows. Now he’s taken to his bed, though lucid, his wife’s message said, and this might be our last chance... Ferdi can sit by his side by the hour, hear the stories, and when we return to the Smials he’ll write them down word-perfect, as if he hears the old hobbit spinning tales in his head!’

 ‘As he likely does,’ Reginard said. Ferdi had told him once that he remembered everything he heard. A remarkable talent that, but sometimes a curse as well as a gift. It made him invaluable to the Thain, however, and his related talent for knowing truth when he heard it also came in quite handy in dealing with Pippin, devious as that hobbit could be at times. Not that Pippin was a false hobbit, but he’d been known to mislead those around him for the sake of convenience...

He’d missed Pippin’s next few words, and lifted his head to hear the Thain saying, ‘...so you see that I need to have Ferdi with me, for the sake of the Shire!’

Regi nodded. ‘There’s no danger, Rosa says,’ he repeated, ‘and if you were to leave Ferdi behind he’d suspect something was up and badger Nell until she was miserable.’

 ‘We cannot have that,’ Pippin said. ‘Very well, we will act as if all is as it should be.’

 ‘As it is,’ Regi said, lifting an eyebrow. ‘Isn’t it?’

 ‘It ought to be,’ Pippin said.

 ‘None of your nonsense, now, lad,’ Reginard said, to forestall any whimsy on the Thain’s part.

Pippin only laughed, as he so often did when something struck him as humorous, though for the life of him Reginard never knew why. 'Get back to work, Regi,' he said.

 'I was working,' Reginard said with all the dignity he could muster, taking up his quill and scratching another figure in a column. He ignored the Thain as Pippin chuckled, and then the study was quiet once more.

Chapter 2. Stay There By Your Fireside Bright

The journey to Pincup was as difficult as Ferdi had anticipated, but the slow, sure-footed ponies brought them safely through. It was rather like riding a plough-pony, from Ferdi’s memory of visits to Paladin’s farm in his young days, plodding along, tempted to doze in the saddle until the slip of a hoof in the mud brought the rider to full alertness.

A slip of the hoof didn’t seem to bother the pony, however. As the pony's head bobbed gently, the slow and steady rhythm would resume, soothing the rider once more into somnolence. There wasn’t even the stimulation of talk, for much of the journey. The track was so narrow they must ride one-at-a-time, for the most part, over hill and dale, sometimes along a rushing stream full of Spring rains, into the woods at last, fording smaller streams and crossing wider streams on sturdy bridges of wood or stone. The swollen waters were nearly up to the footings but the ponies didn’t seem to mind, their hoofbeats ringing hollow, yet maintaining their slow and steady beat.

A warm welcome was waiting for them in Pincup, for the word had got round that the Thain was coming to sit with Hildibald Took, that some sort of treasure was involved, and everyone knew that the Thain held a hoard of gold under the great Hill that held the Smials. There was a feast, and much talk and laughter, and if Ferdi hadn’t excused the travellers early, pleading weariness—that part was true, at least for Pippin’s sake—they’d have been up into the wee hours before arising early to join Hildibald’s family at second breakfast.

Pippin had been pushing himself hard, these past few weeks, what with the planting (interrupted by last week’s heavy rains) and the trip to Michel Delving following a previous journey to the South Farthing; Ferdi was glad to think that after this visit to Pincup the Thain would take a week or two of leisure at Brandy Hall, where the Brandybucks would wait on him hand and foot and his fussy cousin Merry would see to it that he ate properly and rested. Though Pippin put on a good face through the banquet, Ferdi could see that it was only a face. The Thain was pushing the food around the plate more than he was eating it, for one. With the Thain’s precarious grip on health, due to his damaged lungs, this state of affairs would not do at all.

Ferdi had given orders for a bath to be ready, and he badgered Pippin into it, bringing him a mug of beer to soften the sting of his insistence, sitting down next to the tub and talking quietly while the steaming water and smooth brew relaxed muscles tight from a long day of riding.

Though Pippin’s eyes were drooping as he reached the bottom of his mug of beer, he was awake enough to ask, ‘But what about your own bath?’

 ‘It’ll be waiting,’ Ferdi said quietly. ‘I’ll bathe when Haldi’s done. I’m sure he’ll warm up the water with a bucket or two fresh and steaming.’

 ‘He ought to be finished soon, then, if he started the same time I did,’ Pippin said, and yawned.

Ferdi drained the beer from his own mug, rose and took Pippin’s, setting the mugs aside, and lifted one of the towels that had been warming by the fire. ‘Here you are,’ he said. ‘Towel off and slip into bed and sleep like a very babe.’

 ‘You treat me like a very babe,’ the Thain grumbled, arising from the water and wrapping the first towel around himself, then taking up the second towel Ferdi handed him, to rub briskly at his head and limbs. ‘I ought to discharge Sandy—you can do his duty as well as your own.’

 ‘Never!’ Ferdi said briskly. ‘That hobbitservant is worth any ten other hobbits.’

 ‘Then why isn’t he here instead of you?’ Pippin said with another yawn, dropping both towels, slipping the nightshirt over his head and crawling into the warmed and waiting bed.

 ‘Because for all he knows, he doesn’t know how to ride a pony,’ Ferdi said. ‘Otherwise I’d have stayed by hearth and home and let him come with you instead.’

 ‘A likely,’ —yawn— ‘story,’ Pippin said, pulling up the coverlet and turning over. ‘Don’t let me sleep in.’

 ‘I’ll waken you in time for breakfast,’ Ferdi said softly, though he doubted his cousin heard. Soft snores were already rising as he blew out the lamps and let himself out, to seek his own bath and bed.

***

He awakened early and threw a pillow at still-snoring Haldegrim. ‘Wake up, sleepyhead!’ he said. ‘No worms for late birds!’

 ‘You can have all my worms,’ Haldi said, throwing the pillow back. ‘I’ll take the birds, roasted, if you please.’

 ‘Perhaps you can go out and bag a few fat ducks for second breakfast,’ Ferdi said. ‘Whilst I’m filling my ears with tales of times past.’

 ‘Perhaps pigeon pie for elevenses,’ Haldi said, spitting the words for emphasis.

 ‘And a morsel of roasted rabbit for the noontide meal,’ Ferdi said, grandly rolling his r’s.

 ‘Yes, well now that we’ve settled the menu,’ Haldi said, ‘I’m ready for bacon and eggs to get started.’

They ate together very companionably in the common room, two of the first to appear, and then Ferdi went to fetch the Thain while Haldi sat back and gossiped with a few local hobbits. He’d be gathering news while Ferdi gathered history, the next few days.

They received a warm welcome from Hildibald Took’s family, along with a second breakfast fit for a Thain. Ferdi was glad to see Pippin tuck in with a will. Then it was time to greet the old hobbit, propped up in his bed, though he greeted them as jovially as if he’d met them at the door with a hearty handshake.

The Thain sat down in the chair next to the bed, while Ferdi took up his post by the hearth, ostensibly to mend the fire whenever it needed mending.

There was some preliminary gossip to get through, and then Pippin began drawing the old hobbit out. Pippin excelled at asking questions. Ferdi sat quietly, listening to all that transpired, poking the fire or adding a new log, refreshing the teapot from the little kettle that hung at the hearth, accepting with a smile and a nod the plates of food that Hildibald’s wife or one of his daughters brought him at intervals.

Gertie Took fussed at all hobbits cheerily and impartially, and Pippin blossomed in this homey environment. He ate heartily of the food they brought him, laughed often, and relaxed enough to sit back and put his feet up on the bed during the afternoon, just as if he were visiting an old uncle and swapping gossip.

A tempting suppery smell filled the air when the old Took had just finished talking of the discovery of gold along the banks of the Tuckbourn in the days of Isengrim II, which led to the delving of the Great Smials.

 ‘It started as a gold mine!’ Pippin said. ‘I’d heard it as rumour, but never as fact!’

 ‘Where d’you think all that Thain’s gold come from in the first place?’ the old hobbit said irascibly. ‘What’re you young hobbits using for brains these days, I’d like to know?’

 ‘Now Hildy!’ old Gertie said, bustling into the room. ‘You’ve no account to be abusing your visitor that way! Why my brains’d be addled too, if’n I’d had to listen to you rattle on the daylong! The lad’s been all polite and genteel from second breakfast right through teatime, and now it’s supper and I mean for him to have a proper sit-down meal, I do!’

 ‘But,’ Pippin said, and the old wife raised a commanding hand.

 ‘No “buts” will I allow at present!’ she said grandly, reminding the Thain of a wizard he’d once known. ‘We’ve laid you a place at table, sir, and the food’s nearly ready!’

 ‘And what about my food?’ old Hildi demanded. ‘Ye’ll let me starve in my bed, more than like!’

Gertie put hands on ample hips. ‘If it would get ye out of t’bed all the sooner, I would, ye auld hog-swaggle!’

 ‘Wee-wee-wee!’ the old hobbit squealed, in perfect imitation of a hungry pig awaiting slops, and then he slapped his knee and chortled. ‘Just like young Bandobras, when they pulled him from the diggin’s!’

 ‘Bandobras?’ Pippin said, leaning forward at this mention of his wife’s illustrious ancestor.

 ‘O aye,’ Hildi said. ‘Well, y’know how his grandfather found gold, as I told you, and begun to dig into the side of that great Hill to find more... a regular mine it was, and he had sons digging right alongside him. Well, Bandobras, he got hisself buried when the ground shifted and they dug him out barely in time. He never could stand dark, closed-in places after that. Took hisself off to the North-lands, the wide open spaces with nary a high hill to be falling in on him...’

With old Gertie pulling at his arm, the Thain reluctantly took himself off to the supper table. Old Hildi turned to Ferdi to finish the tale, and Ferdi was happy to listen as he had all the long day through, as he polished off the contents of the plate Gertie had brought for him when she came to haul Pippin away from the bedside.

So it went for a week, until Ferdi thought his head might possibly burst with all the history it held. Old Hildi never showed any signs of flagging; as a matter of fact, the more he talked, the brighter were his eyes and the more vigorous his gestures.

On the last day of the visit, Gertie told Pippin at the supper table, ‘Well, this has been good for the auld hobbit! I wouldn’t be surprised but that he stood up out of his bed on the morrow!’

 ‘He was feeling rather poorly,’ Hildi’s oldest son said, ‘said like as not he weren’t of any use to anyone anymore.’

 ‘Aye,’ Gertie said, wiping at one eye with a corner of her apron, ‘but our Thain, he come and listen for a full week, he did! With all the other tasks set before him, he come!’

 ‘And was fascinated,’ Pippin said. ‘I don’t think he ever repeated himself, or told the same story twice!’

 ‘Plenty more where that come from,’ the oldest son said. ‘Ye’ll have to come back!’

 ‘I will!’ Pippin said, rising from the table and shaking hands all round. ‘Just as soon as I can!’ He went back to the bedroom to thank the old hobbit profusely, promising to return to hear more stories; and collecting Ferdibrand from the fireside, he took his leave.

Early to bed it would be this night, and early to rise in the morning for the long, slow ride back to Tuckborough. There had been several more days of rain while Ferdi had tended the cheerful fire and listened to the history of the Shire, and he was not looking forward to the trip. O for certain he’d welcome the reunion with Nell and the little ones, but if not for that, he’d be as happy to sit and tend the fire and listen to old Hildibald spin his tales for more days on end.

Chapter 3. To Jump into the River and Drown

To be homeward bound! Ferdi felt like lifting his voice in song, and so he did. Behind him he heard Pippin join, and then Haldegrim, until they were chasing each other around and around in interweaving melody. Even the ponies pricked their ears, though they never varied their measured pace. There was no speeding these coldbloods towards home and stable, Ferdi thought. He’d’ve arrived weary at home, had he been riding Starfire, simply from the strain of holding that pony down to a safe pace for the entire journey.

The streams ran wilder than before, further swollen from the rains of the past week while the travellers had been snug indoors listening to talk. The water was over the footings of the first bridge they came to, a sturdy arch of stone with boards laid across awash in the current. Ferdi dismounted and motioned to the other two to stand fast while he examined the bridge. First he walked across, studying the boards and the water. Only the middle of the arch was dry.

Reaching the other side safely, he returned and took up his pony’s reins. ‘Well?’ Pippin said.

 ‘Wait until we’re over,’ Ferdi replied, meaning himself and his pony. ‘Lead your ponies, don’t ride them, and come one at a time, if we cross safely.’

 ‘Ferdi, I—’ Pippin began, his brow furrowed with concern, but Ferdi shook off the restraining hand.

 ‘If I weren’t fairly sure of its safety I’d never risk the pony,’ he said, and turned away, clucking at the pony to follow.

Starfire would have balked for certain, with his distrust of water, but the stolid pony followed without a quiver of nerve, lending confidence to the hobbit who led him. They splashed through the water and thudded across the dry middle, down into the water again and through the flooded shallows until they reached dry land on the far side.

Ferdi turned and waved. ‘Come along!’ he cried. ‘It’s fine!’

Pippin waved back and led his pony across, step by careful step, and then Haldi followed.

 ‘That wasn’t so difficult,’ Pippin observed, climbing back into his saddle.

The next bridge was much the same, though this one was made of wood and creaked ominously as each rider-and-pony pair crossed. There was a long stretch of wooded trail before they reached the third bridge, about mid-morning, and before Ferdi tested this bridge of solid, sturdy stone Pippin decreed that they would stop and eat.

It was too damp to sit upon the ground, and so the travellers stood about, munching on sandwiches and fruit turnovers and potatoes baked in their jackets and wrapped in flannel for pocket-warmers. These still retained some of their warmth, and the faint steam that arose on the chill Spring air heartened the hobbits nearly as much as the food did.

They allowed the ponies to drink from the still water at the flooded verge before Ferdi stepped onto the next bridge. He stomped his foot, hard, and said, ‘Solid!’

Truth be told, he was worried about the Thain taking a chill, splashing through the shallow icy water, and so he mounted and rode across, waving to the others to follow, which they did.

There were two more bridges to cross before they left the woodland, another wood bridge that Ferdi was dreading, considering the creaking and complaining the previous wooden bridge had made when they’d crossed, and then a last bridge built strongly of the native stone, and then they’d be out of the woods.

When they came to the wooden bridge Ferdi was pleasantly surprised. The water had gone down significantly and the bridge rose well above the churning stream. Nevertheless, he called another halt, dismounted, gave his reins to the Thain and walked out onto the bridge, stamping his feet to test the solidity of the wood. ‘No damage from the high water!’ he called back from the high point on the bridge. He stopped a moment to gaze through the railings, peering fascinated into the waters passing so swiftly beneath him, and then began to walk down the slope of the arch towards the far bank.

Pippin nodded and clucked to his pony, and Haldi followed close behind him. They had nearly reached the centre when the ponies threw up their heads, nostrils flaring, and Ferdi’s pony danced at the end of the reins, causing the bridge to tremble underfoot.

Ferdi looked around in surprise and then stiffened at this warning, though he was not sure what precipitated this skittish behaviour on the part of these unimaginative, stolid mounts. A Brandybuck, wise in the ways of rivers, would have suspected the lowered river at first glance, knowing how debris can provide a temporary blockage, restraining the waters until the power of the river breaks free, built to greater fury by the delay. But these were Tooks, and the one who’d lived in Buckland, who had been taught by the Brandybucks, did not have rivers in his blood in the way of his Buckland cousin. In truth he was chilled and weary, and thinking more of hearth, home and rest, trusting to pony and escort to bring him safely through.

When the white-maned, roaring beast that was the river, freed of its bindings, burst upon them with frothing jaws, there was no time to run.

Pippin had clenched tight the lead rein to Ferdi's pony as he fought to control his own mount; when the sound reached him he looked up to see the white wall of water, tree limbs in its jaws, bearing down upon them. He looked ahead to see Ferdi standing near the end of the bridge, his hands clenched tight upon the railing. He released the tight hold he’d taken on the reins when the pony had thrown up its head, jerked at the leading rein of Ferdi’s pony, and kicked his heels hard into the shaggy sides of his own mount. ‘Ferdi!’ he cried.

It would be a race to safety, and he intended for Ferdibrand to grab hold of rider’s leg or pony’s mane as they plunged to the end of the bridge—he didn’t want his cousin to blunder into the ponies’ path and be ridden down!

Haldi was frozen in terror, but his pony knew what to do, ramming forward into Ferdi’s pony. The latter kicked out instinctively, catching Haldi’s pony with a thud that the rider felt rather than heard, what with the roar from the water. He nearly lost his seat as his pony reared and then plunged forward once more.

He did lose his seat when the water hit the bridge, causing that sturdy structure to shudder. It seemed to the escort that the world began to move with excruciating slowness; he watched the slow fall of droplets of spray shot high into the air, he saw flecks of foam fly from his pony’s mouth, the white of the rolling eye, the red flare of nostril, he felt himself leave the saddle as the bridge moved under them... He saw the Thain’s hands fly up as his pony fell away from beneath him, and as if in a dream he noted Ferdi’s white face, the blackness of Ferdi’s gloves clenched hard on the white-painted railing, and then the shock of the icy water drove all else from his thoughts.

***

The bottom of the bridge fell out from under them, or so Pippin’s racing mind told him. Instinctively he loosed the reins of his and Ferdi’s ponies, throwing up his hands, grabbing for something, anything to hold on to as he felt his pony falling downward and to the side. With a stunning shock he was thrown against the railings of the bridge; somehow he managed to grab hold as they splintered. He clung grimly, his legs streaming behind him in the current, raising his head above the foam of the torrent to fight for breath, though there seemed to be as much water in the air as there was in the stream.

He waited for the bridge to give way completely, to carry him downstream, but the piece to which he clung so precariously held. He lifted his head higher, both hands firmly on the broken railing, and tried to blink the water from his eyes.

Haldi and ponies were gone, the middle of the bridge washed away from under them. He could only hope that the escort could somehow swim free and fetch up downstream, though with all the debris buffeting him it was more likely he’d be knocked about and drowned. There was no trace of Ferdibrand. Pippin fought down grief. His own predicament was what he needed to focus on.

He slid one hand along the railing, grasping firmly before moving the other hand. The railing quivered to be holding his weight against the pull of the torrent, but it held. So long as his strength, and that of the battered railing, held out, he’d be able to pull himself to safety, hand-hold by shaky hand-hold.

Chapter 4. Sometimes I Take a Great Notion

Inch by agonising inch, Pippin worked his way along the broken railing, shutting out all other thoughts but the next hand-hold. So fiercely was he concentrating, in fact, that he when he kicked something soft it didn’t register on him until he trod fully upon something that yielded underfoot.

Fighting the current he brought his feet down onto the submerged remains of the bridge, down onto... his breath came even shorter as he realised what it meant. Ferdi! Ferdibrand was caught in the wreckage of the bridge, trapped underwater!

Wrapping his legs around the lower railing, Pippin released the upper railing and dove under water, fumbling to orient himself with the unseen body below the churning water, until he was able to grasp Ferdi under his arms and haul him upright. He gasped as his face broke the surface, the muscles of his abdomen tight with effort, his legs straining to push him upright. He hazarded his weight against the bridge railings... and they held! He was only a few steps from safety, now.

Pulling at Ferdi and pushing with his feet, he got his cousin’s head above water—barely. Though Ferdi was limp and unresponsive—a gash on his forehead, just above his eye, bled freely, silent testimony to the blow he’d received as the bridge collapsed around him—still he resisted Pippin’s efforts. Ferdi was trapped, held fast in the wreckage.

Pippin could not tell if his cousin was breathing. Once more he blessed Gimli and his dwarf-breathing, used by the Dwarves in their delving when a ceiling came down and those rescued were alive but breathless when found. Sometimes the dwarf-breathing revived them, sometimes it did not. In any event, Gimli had used the technique to revive Pippin after hauling the Troll-carcase off him before the Black Gate, and at Pippin’s insistence had later taught him the skill.

He pinched Ferdi’s nose closed and blew hard into his cousin’s mouth. Once, twice, a third time, until his cousin coughed and spluttered and struggled in his arms.

 ‘Steady, Ferdi,’ Pippin said, raising his voice above the roar of the water.

 ‘Pippin?’ Ferdi said, turning his head from side to side and looking wildly about. ‘Pippin, is it you?’

 ‘What’re you about, you fool of a Took?’ Pippin said, gripping his cousin tighter. ‘Of course! Who else would it be?’

 ‘Can’t... cannot see,’ Ferdi gasped. ‘How long have we been in the water? Is it night already?’

 ‘Ye daft coney...’ Pippin began, but his voice trailed off as he realised the implications. ‘You’ve hit your head, Ferdi, and you’re not seeing as you ought. Happened to me, once. I ran into the side of the byre when Merry was chasing me and when I woke up I couldn’t see from one eye for some hours. It’ll clear.’

 ‘Clear,’ Ferdi echoed. He was breathing raggedly, but at least he was breathing.

 ‘Come now, no time for chit chat,’ Pippin said briskly. ‘We’ve got to get you out of here.’

 ‘Haldi?’ Ferdi said, lifting one arm feebly, fumbling, finding Pippin’s arm and grasping it weakly.

 ‘Gone... for help,’ Pippin said, but his cousin shook his head.

 ‘Don’t lie to me,’ Ferdi said between his teeth. ‘The first word was truth.’

 ‘Aye,’ Pippin said, and had he not been holding his cousin’s head above water he’d have let his shoulders slump. ‘I only meant to give you comfort.’

Ferdi’s answer was a snort. ‘Lies are no comfort,’ he said. ‘Makes it all the more difficult to trust you, Pip, and I promised my sister I’d work at it.’

Pippin was surprised to hear this candour, but then Ferdi was suffering a lessening of his faculties, what with the blow to his head.

 ‘I’m a slippery sort, ‘tis true,’ he said lightly, ‘but I’ll do my best for you, cousin.’ He shifted his grip. ‘Let’s start with getting ourselves out of here.’

 ‘I’m game,’ Ferdi said agreeably. ‘Lead on, O Took.’

 ‘Bandobras I am not,’ Pippin said, ‘but I’ll do my best, as I just said. ‘Twould be nice if you’d offer a little help.’

 ‘What would you have me do?’ Ferdi said, as if they discussed a topic of remote interest. He was shivering from the cold of the water—mercy, but Pippin was shivering too!—and his words slurred as if it took more than he had in him just to speak them.

 ‘Push with your feet, Ferdi. I cannot pull you free,’ Pippin said.

 ‘Can you, now?’ Ferdi murmured.

 ‘I cannot,’ Pippin maintained, shifting his grip and pulling briefly. ‘Push with your feet, Ferdi; brace them against the bottom of the bridge.’

He was heartened to see a look of concentration upon his cousin’s face, and he put forth a steady effort, pulling, until he felt Ferdi relax in his grasp once more.

 ‘We have a problem,’ Ferdi said, lifting his other arm until he could grasp the front of Pippin’s coat.

 ‘What, only one?’ 

 ‘There is no bottom under my feet,’ Ferdi said. ‘I seem to have fallen through or somewhat.’ He let go with one hand, letting it fall into the water, seeking... seeking... and finding purchase. His face twisted, and Pippin realised he was pushing against his bonds.

 ‘Wait, Ferdi,’ he said. ‘Hold tight to me a moment.’ He reached under the water to bring up Ferdi’s hand, placed it on his shoulder and gave it a firm push to indicate it should stay there. ‘Hold fast.’

He ducked under the water, feeling his way down Ferdi’s body, coming up against the boards of the bridge. Aye, Ferdibrand had fallen right through, and was caught about the waist. Pippin tried to haul him free, feeling Ferdi’s hands clutch at him convulsively. At last he had to surface again, to gulp air.

 ‘Did ye not hear me yell to stop?’ Ferdi gasped.

 ‘I was under the water,’ Pippin said apologetically. ‘What is it?’

 ‘Thought you’d chop me in two, from the way it felt,’ Ferdi said, and grunted. ‘It’s pressing something horrid, against my middle.’

 ‘All right, we’ll try pulling you free from here,’ Pippin said stubbornly. He crouched to set his feet once more in the supports of the bridge, took as deep a breath as he could manage, and pushed.

Ferdi cried out, a terrible cry, and Pippin ceased at once. ‘Ferdi?’ he asked anxiously.

Ferdi was panting for breath, and worse, his chin was very close to the water. ‘Don’t,’ he begged breathlessly. ‘Don’t...’

 ‘The bridge is settling,’ Pippin said absently as his thoughts raced. ‘Steady, Ferdi,’ he added as Ferdi’s hands clenched tight in the fabric of his coat.

 ‘Please,’ the trapped Took groaned, even as it wasn’t certain what he was pleading for. To be released from the wreckage? For Pippin to cease his efforts, which were driving the bridge deeper into the stream as well as costing such pain? Both, more than likely, or neither—as his next words made clear.

 ‘You’ve got to get out of here,’ Ferdi panted. ‘The bridge is settling... water’s so cold... you’ve got to get out.’

 ‘I won’t leave you,’ Pippin said. ‘I’m going to get you out of here.’

 ‘How?’ Ferdi said. ‘Rope? Axe, perhaps? The bridge is settling, and taking me with it. You’ve got to save yourself, Pip.’

 ‘If you go, I’ll go,’ Pippin said, grimly determined.

Ferdi protested, but Pippin refused to hear, and the ring of truth was in his voice.

He gave another half-hearted pull, but Ferdi groaned so piteously that he desisted.

 ‘Please,’ Ferdi said, and Pippin nodded and hugged him gently, sharing what hobbity comfort he could. He didn’t know what they were going to do. More than likely they’d die here together, unless some other traveller came along sooner than later.

***

Pippin was half in a dream, his face resting on Ferdi’s shoulder, when the shout roused him. He jerked upright and turned. A broad grin broke out on his face. ‘Haldi!’ he shouted. ‘Haldi, you ne’er-do-well, you don’t know how glad I am to see you! You’re a sight for sore eyes, you are!’

The escort, looking much the worse for wear, was standing at the edge of the bridge, having just slid from his battered pony’s back. Both looked like something the cat might have dragged in on a rainy night.

 ‘Are you trapped?’ he called back. ‘Can you win free?’

 Pippin raised his voice. ‘I can, but Ferdi’s well-stuck! Perhaps the two of us can pull him out!’

Haldegrim nodded, grabbed the intact railing and pulled himself into the water, reaching Pippin quickly.

The Thain explained Ferdi’s predicament. Haldi took a lungful of air and dove beneath the water, gripping the railing with his legs as Pippin had earlier.

Ferdi moaned and thrashed in Pippin’s grasp, and then Haldi broke the surface, grabbing at the railing to catch his balance against the pull of the current. ‘Need an axe, I think,’ he gasped. ‘We’ll cut him in twain if we try to pull him out, I think. The boards are pressing into him.’

 ‘I could have told you that,’ Ferdi said weakly.

 ‘There’s a woodcutter’s family half-way to the stone bridge,’ Haldi said. ‘I’ll hold his head above water while you ride for help.’

 ‘No,’ Pippin said. ‘I won’t leave him, Haldi. I made him a promise that I’d see him through. You go. You know better where to find this woodcutter, any road, I suspect. I never noticed such, going along this track.’

 ‘It’s a little ways off the track,’ Haldi admitted. He wanted to protest, to insist that Pippin get himself out of this icy stream, but likely the damage was already done. The Thain was wet to the skin, and the sooner he brought woodcutters and axes the sooner Pippin would be in dry clothes warming himself by a roaring fire. ‘I’ll make all the haste I can.

 ‘Hold fast, Ferdi,’ he added, gripping his cousin by the shoulder.

 ‘Don’t have to,’ Ferdi mumbled. ‘Bridge is doing that already.’

Haldi pulled himself along the railing to dry land, but he didn’t mount immediately. He found a tree with suckers growing around the base and pulled one of these slender growths, hefting it in his gloved hand. Yes, that ought to do—strong, but flexible, and sure to sting even through shaggy pony hide.

He hauled himself onto the pony’s back, bruised and battered as he was by the force of the water and debris that had tried to drown him, turned the pony’s head to the trail, and brought his improvised whip down hard with a resounding smack.

The pony jumped at this treatment and broke into a lumbering trot. Another smack resulted in a clumsy gallop, and the escort was soon out of sight.

 ‘Not much longer, Ferdi,’ Pippin said.

 ‘Not... much... longer,’ Ferdi responded in apparent agreement, but Pippin realised to his horror, when he looked down, that the bridge was continuing to settle. Ferdi’s chin was under water, even though Pippin could see the cords tight in his neck as he strained to lift his mouth higher.

With a flash of inspiration, Pippin bent to his cousin. ‘You remember the dwarf-breathing, Ferdi?’ he said urgently.

 ‘Dwarf-breathing,’ Ferdi gasped. ‘You mean, after I drown you’ll bring me back?’

 ‘No time,’ Pippin said, impatient. No matter how quickly Haldi returned with the woodcutters, he’d be too late. ‘No, but the bridge is sinking.’

 ‘I know,’ Ferdi said. ‘Give my love to Nell.’ He set his lips in a tight line and Pippin could see his throat working as he swallowed hard.

 ‘No, Ferdi,’ he said, ‘but I can keep you breathing. Here is what we’ll do.’ Quickly he outlined his plan.

 ‘You’re mad,’ Ferdi said. The water had nearly reached his bottom lip, and a wave slapped his face, causing him to gag and swallow water.

 ‘I’m desperate,’ Pippin said truthfully.

 ‘Same thing,’ Ferdi managed to gasp. ‘It’ll never work,’ he added, a sick expression on his face. ‘Don’t be a fool—save yourself when I’m gone...’

 ‘I won’t leave you,’ Pippin said stubbornly. ‘It will work, Ferdi, it has to! Hold your breath when you go under... when you feel me touch your face, exhale, and then I’ll blow air into you and raise my head to take in more air.’

 ‘You take in barely enough for yourself as it is,’ Ferdi protested, but then he had to close his mouth as he sank further, taking a last desperate breath through his flaring nostrils.

Pippin pinched Ferdi’s nose between his fingers and pushed his face down in the water, blowing air into Ferdi’s mouth.

He raised his head above the water, scanning for signs of Haldi and the woodcutters though surely it was too early to hope. After taking two quick breaths he touched Ferdi’s cheek with his free hand. He saw Ferdi’s breath emerge as bubbles, and dropping his mouth down on his cousin's, blew once more.

Two breaths, blow. Two breaths, blow. Hurry, Haldi.

Chapter 5. I'll Love Her ‘til the Seas Run Dry

All was darkness and flowing silence. Ferdibrand’s world contracted to a touch on the cheek, a measured breath, and waiting... His only anchor to the world was Pippin’s firm grip on his nose, which struck him as desperately funny, but should he laugh he would be lost.

Ironic, that it should all come down to this. He’d never felt so helpless before in his life.

Too much time to think. He found himself entertaining fancies—his life was a smial, delved under the ground, warm, safe, secure. But one by one the supports bracing the ceiling had fallen away, one by one, mother, father, uncle, sister, master, beloved, cousin, friend... leaving him, alone, holding off the weight of earth. And now he could not even help himself.

Too much time to think, and to see his life pass before his eyes. He’d heard about this happening, in the last moments of life, but had dismissed the idea with all its impracticalities.

Now he saw himself as a lad, riding on a laughing hobbit’s shoulders. His uncle—! Tears sprang to his eyes, immediately washed away in the cool rush surrounding him, leaving only a sting behind. His father’s laughter boomed in his ears, and his mother’s voice raised in song.

The stables, outlined in flames, fell in upon father and uncle, and his mother seized him and shoved him into the stream, screaming that she must save him... and then her voice was stilled, swept away in the never-ceasing current. His sister held fast to his hand as he sat in stunned silence, and then she too abandoned him, running away to escape an unwanted marriage.

Thain Paladin had been a rock, and Ferdi had taken the oath to serve him with complete confidence. The Thain was hard, but fair, and unwavering in his determination to keep Tookland, even in the face of ruffians twice his size and an ever-growing menace on his borders. They had cast out the ruffians, in the end, or rather, with the help of the Tooks, Merry had, and Pippin. Pippin...

His beloved... Nell... smiled at him, and then she was gone, married off to advantage by her father, who thought more of the Tookland than the individual hobbits that made up the land. Pippin...

One by one the supports around him fell, but he braced his feet and pushed all the harder. He was strong. He would not be crushed.

Thain Paladin had been a rock, a great boulder indeed, and when he’d turned on Ferdi it had been as if the hillside had fallen on him, to bury him in silence. And all for something Pippin had done. Pippin...

Pippin had always been a tricksy one, from the time the little charmer could put two words together. He’d instigate mischief and yet somehow it was always someone else taking the blame, someone who should have known better, Merry, or Ferdi, or Nell. Ferdi had loved his younger cousin, but he’d never quite trusted him. And Pippin had repaid that trust, or lack of it. Ah, Irony!

But it wasn’t Pip’s fault, Ferdi argued with himself. You know you were set to watch him. You were his escort. It was your duty! You knew that he chafed under his father’s restrictions. You should never have let him trick you that way; slip his bonds, slip his responsibilities, slip his escort, ride off into that ice storm and nearly perish. Yours was the fault!

And now his entire life depended upon this cousin who had put convenience ahead of duty too many times for Ferdi’s comfort. He waited for another breath.

Duty... but Pip had followed Frodo Baggins, followed him loyally, into dark horrors the extent of which not even those closest to him in these latter days could fathom. He had served a foreign lord and fought for him. He now served the returned King.

Ferdi pondered this paradox, the slippery cousin he’d known and not trusted, and the Thain he knew now, who’d sworn an oath of loyalty to those who served him. Pippin...

Just a few months ago, Pippin’s son had run away, and Ferdibrand had tried to retrieve the situation. A great misunderstanding had resulted, and Ferdi had been accused of stealing Pippin’s son, stealing...! The ceiling had very nearly fallen in on him then, but somehow he’d stood through it all, holding off destruction, and Pippin had got down on his knees to swear an oath, to seek a new beginning. Pippin...

Pippin, whose damaged lungs surely could not sustain this sort of strain. Pippin, the finest Thain the Shire had known in over an hundred years, or so everyone said, Ferdi included. Pippin, on whom Ferdi’s life now rested, whose own life was imperilled thereby.

Ferdi knew then, what he must do. With the next breath to come, he must immediately let it out again, and force himself to breathe in the water surrounding him. If he drowned, surely Pippin would leave him and seek his own safety. He’d shown no signs of leaving up until this point. Breath followed breath.

Trust was a matter of... what? A matter of faith? Life had taught Ferdibrand that you couldn’t trust anyone, not really. You could only trust yourself, in the end. Could he trust himself?

He knew what he must do, but as breath followed breath he could not summon enough courage to overcome instinct. His beloved Nell rose before his eyes, pleading. Pleading for what? Pleading for him to sustain the fight? Pleading for him to give it up, to sacrifice himself for her brother’s sake? Yes, that must be it. For if things were to go on as they were going, both Ferdi and Pippin would drown.

How he loved his Nell. Though it grieved him more than he could bear, he strengthened his resolve to leave her now, to save her brother, the only way he could.

Another touch on the cheek, another breath, and then suddenly Pippin’s hand was gone from Ferdi’s nose. He had just about made up his mind to force out the next breath and drown himself, but now, with Pippin abandoning him at last, perversely he held his last breath until stars began to dance before his darkened eyes.

***

The bridge continued to sink slowly beneath them, settling into the mud, and it grew more difficult to continue his life-saving effort. Pippin had to stretch, now, to thrust his head above water for air, and then down into the stream, down to find Ferdi’s face. He was tiring, and the whole ordeal was taking on a dreamlike—no, nightmarish quality, one of those dreams from which you wish you could waken but goes on and on without hope of surcease.

He must not stop.

Two breaths. Blow. Two breaths. Blow.

Though he’d looked up the trail each time he raised his head, he must have stopped seeing, for suddenly Haldi was there, seizing his shoulder, shouting his name as if previous efforts to gain Pippin’s attention had failed.

 ‘Can’t stop,’ Pippin gasped. ‘Ferdi.’ Duck under the water. Blow.

He sensed rather than saw Haldi ducking under with him, and then they were at the surface again. ‘Right,’ Haldi said, and released Pippin’s shoulder, turning to shout something at the bank.

No time to look. Duck under the water. Blow.

Hobbits were splashing into the water, surrounding him. Tooks in a river! Merry ought to see such a sight! Only the most desperate of necessities would force them into such.

Two breaths. Blow. Two breaths. Blow.

They were working around him, and he rather got the feeling that he was in their way. No matter. Two breaths. Blow.

And then suddenly Haldi was there again, shouting meaningless noise into his ear, pulling at him, pulling him away. He resisted as best he could. Two breaths. Blow.

More hands, pulling at him. He fought, but he was exhausted and they were stronger. He kicked and shouted, weakly, but they pulled him away, and then he knew it was too late... too late... even if he won his way back into the water it was too late.

They laid him down upon a blanket and began to strip off his sopping clothes as he wept, and then they forced warm, dry clothing on him and wrapped him in more blankets, and then Haldegrim was at his side again, speaking urgently, finally taking Pippin’s face between his hands.

 ‘Pippin. All’s well. All’s well, cousin.’

 ‘I left him,’ Pippin sobbed. ‘I left him. I promised him.’

 ‘Pippin,’ Haldi said again, and he forced Pippin’s face to the side. ‘Look, all’s well! We got Ferdi out in time. Look!’

Pippin looked, and there beside him, wrapped in blankets, Ferdi lay. A small fire burned just beyond him, and a healer was pouring steaming water into cups, preparatory to forcing some sort of nasty draught into the shivering hobbits pulled from the stream.

 ‘Ferdi,’ Pippin breathed.

 ‘That’s right,’ Haldi said stoutly, taking his hands away from Pippin’s face. ‘All’s well.’

Chapter 6. I'll See You in My Dreams

Ferdi held his last breath until stars began to dance before his darkened eyes. He was beyond chilled, numb, scarcely feeling the cool rush of water past him tugging at him. At least the embrace of the broken bridge would make his body easy to recover. Better for Nell to lay him to his rest than if he’d been swept away, leaving her to wonder for days while the search went on downriver, and if a body were caught under a snag it might not come to light until the dry season caused the water levels to go down.

At least he had the comfort that she wouldn’t follow him into the darkness, not right away at any rate. The babe growing within would tie her to the world for awhile yet, and perhaps by the time it was born they’d have brought her through the worst of her sorrow, and she’d choose to live on for the sake of the children and not waste away in sorrow.

He grieved for Pippin, undoubtedly carried off by the current when he’d reached the end of his strength. Ferdi had come to his resolution too late to save his cousin. Pippin had exhausted himself, keeping Ferdi going as long as he had. What a waste! What a waste...

There was an illusion of movement around him. Several times he felt something brush against him, likely debris carried by the current. The bridge, too, had vibrated under the assault of the stream, as Ferdi had noticed during the last score or so of breaths that Pippin had managed. Or so he’d thought.

Now as he caressed his last thoughts of Nell and home he felt himself seized from all sides and then came an upward tug. He stiffened in anticipation of the stabbing boards but the jagged ends fell away as he was lifted. His convulsive gasp brought him air, not water, and he realised his head had broken the surface, that he was hearing hobbit voices surrounding him.

Weakly he flailed, his right hand grasping sodden wool, while the supporting hands fell away on his other side. He heard frightened gasps, ‘Unnatural!’ ‘He’s moving!’ ‘He ought to be dead!’ and even a mutter of ‘Sorcery!’

 ‘Not at all,’ Haldi’s voice sounded from his right, and he could feel Haldi’s steadying grip. ‘The Thain shared his breath with him. Something he learned in the outlands.’ Haldi’s voice sharpened. ‘Come now, let’s get him out of the water!’

He sucked at the air greedily. He thought he might never get enough. The hands took hold of Ferdi once more and he felt himself lifted, heard the swish of the waters, robbed of their prey, a curse or two from his rescuers as they eased themselves over the broken bridge to shore, and then the welcome feel of solid earth beneath his back as they laid him down, just before he swooned.

He wakened, hearing Pippin calling him, or so he thought. ‘Ferdi!’

 ‘That’s right,’ Haldi said. ‘All’s well.’

 ‘Pippin?’ Ferdi said, opening his eyes and struggling to sit up. Somehow he’d been swaddled in blankets without his knowing it, and being unable to move as well as unable to see was enough to stir him to panic.

 ‘Steady,’ came an unfamiliar voice. Someone was helping him sit up, then, and a mug was being held to his lips. ‘Drink this; sip at it. It’s hot.’ The last was a warning.

 ‘Pippin?’ Ferdi said again, turning blindly towards where he’d heard his cousins’ voices. ‘Pippin, you’re not drowned?’

He heard his cousin’s relieved laughter. ‘No more than you, evidently,’ Pippin said. Ferdi closed his eyes in relief. Pippin had not been swept away, too exhausted to save himself.

Eyes closed or open, it made no difference. All was darkness.

 ‘Drink up, cousin,’ Haldi said then, and the stranger’s voice echoed the order. Ferdi felt the mug seated against his lips and he sipped obediently. The drink was hot and sweet.

 ‘I know there’s honey in it, but drink it anyhow,’ Haldi said. Evidently Pippin was giving some trouble.

Ferdi finished his draught and added his voice to Haldi’s. ‘It’s not as bad as it might be, Pippin,’ he said. ‘Drink up now.’

 ‘I thought you couldn’t see,’ Pippin said sourly. Ferdi heard him slurp and then gag. ‘Augh, did you have to put so very much honey in it?’

 ‘You cannot see, lad? How many fingers am I holding before you?’ the strange voice said.

Ferdi shook his head. ‘Fingers?’ he said. ‘Were you to poke them in my eyes I might be able to tell, but just holding them before me...’

 ‘What do you see?’ the stranger persisted.

Ferdi shook his head. ‘Black,’ he said. ‘Just black. As if it were the middle night and clouds covered the stars. Or a tunnel in the Smials with the candle gone out.’ To be blind for the rest of his days, ah what a grievous thought. But at least he still had the use of his arms and legs. He wasn't helpless; the candle had gone out, that was all.

He felt gentle fingers going over his head and winced away when they touched his forehead. ‘Bit of a lump here,’ the stranger said softly.

 ‘Yes I was aware of that,’ Ferdi said, feeling strangely detached. From the feel of it they were unwrapping the blankets around him and he felt the unseen hands moving down his body.

 ‘Does that hurt?’ the stranger said, pressing Ferdi’s middle where the boards had prisoned him. Ferdi managed to pull his hands free of the wrappings and pushed the questing hands away.

 ‘Of course it hurts!’ he snapped. ‘You healers are all the same, you press where you see injury, knowing that it’ll hurt, and you ask anyway!’

The stranger chuckled and the examination continued. Ferdi endured the discomfort of having several long slivers removed from his legs and feet, driven in as the bridge collapsed around him, no doubt. He listened closely to the mutters of the healer as he worked, but gained no understanding or reassurance as to his injuries.

At last he felt himself lifted and settled and lifted again, and realised he was being borne along on a litter, the healer still beside him murmuring reassurance. He reached out, connecting with a sleeve. ‘Please,’ he said.

 ‘Yes, lad?’

 ‘Why can I not see?’ Ferdi said. ‘When will it clear?’

 ‘As to the former,’ the healer said, ‘I think it has something to do with the blow you took to your head. As to the latter... well, let’s just sleep on it and see how things look in the morning.’

 ‘Will they “look” in the morning?’ Ferdi persisted.

The healer only chuckled reassuringly. ‘Steady, lad,’ he said. ‘I need to see to the Thain now.’

Reluctantly Ferdi released him. The motion of the litter was lulling, and he was wakened from a doze when he heard a hearty female voice raised in greeting.

 ‘You got him out then?’

 ‘Aye, alive too for all his head was under the water when we got there.’

Sounds of astonishment. ‘Under the water! You must have cut him out quick!’

 ‘Not that quick, for all Grandfather’s cleverness! No, but the Thain had some sort of outlandish trick for getting breaths into him, even under the water as he was!’

 ‘Clever sort, our Thain!’

Hiss of warning, and a piercing whisper, ‘Ware now, Viola! That-there’s the Thain on the second litter!’

 ‘I never said naught that might be took amiss,’ the female said, undaunted. ‘Ye just bring ‘em in here, lads, and put ‘em in the big bed! It’s warmed and ready... and then stay for supper, if you will, and we’ll have a bit o’ singing afore ye go.’

Ferdi was tucked up in a bed, and from the sound and motion it seemed they put Pippin next to him, propping him half-upright while the healer fussed quietly.

 ‘Your breathing is not all it ought to be, Sir. Half-drowned, in my opinion, and likely to be ill...’

 ‘I am well!’ Pippin protested, but he could not hide the fatigue that slurred the words.

 ‘Rest now, cousin,’ Haldi said. ‘I’ve sent word to the Smials...’

Ferdi was distracted by another female voice beside him, softer than the first he’d heard. ‘Supper, sir?’

Hands were sitting him up, propping pillows behind him. He reached in the darkness, only to have his hands caught and laid firmly in his lap. ‘Never you mind,’ another voice told him. ‘Lily-here will spoon the stew into you. All you have to do is open your mouth when she tells you.’

 ‘I can feed myself,’ Ferdi protested, but in the end he gave in. He was tired as it was, his arms like lead, and the stew was hearty, tasty and warming, and in the next room he could hear hobbit talk and laughter, the clinking of utensils, and at last voices raised in harmony.

 ‘All done, Lily?’ the hearty female voice said suddenly, though Ferdi had heard her in the thick of the singing only a moment earlier. ‘Efram wants to take another look, now that he’s got some good food into him.’

 ‘Hard work, chopping away at that bridge,’ the healer’s voice said, coming closer. ‘Cold, too! Don’t know the last time I let a river get that close to my skin!’

 ‘Right agin it, as I heard,’ Viola said with a chuckle. ‘Like as not you’d all’ve caught your deaths, did you not change into dry clothing and eat hearty when you got here!’

 ‘Steady now,’ the healer said beside Ferdi. ‘I just want to shine a lamp in those eyes o’ yourn. Tell me what you see.’

Ferdi stiffened with dread, but to his wonder the darkness was broken as he perceived a dull grey before his eyes.

 ‘What is it?’ Efram said, his voice pleasant and calming.

The dull grey faded to black.

 ‘Did you see aught?’ the healer persisted.

 ‘Something,’ Ferdi fumbled. ‘Not all black, for a moment.’ The dull grey returned. ‘There!’ he said. And then all was black once more.

 ‘What do you see?’ Efram said. ‘I’m bringing the lamp close and then pulling it away.’

 ‘Grey,’ Ferdi said. ‘As if I’m in a thick fog, and darkness is falling.’ He swallowed down hope. ‘But it’s more than I saw before.’

 ‘Aye, ‘tis a good sign,’ Efram said. ‘The blow stunned something inside there, and now it’s starting to wake up, ‘tis. We’ll know better by morning.’

 ‘Are ye staying, then, Efram?’ Viola said.

 ‘O’ course!’ the healer said stoutly. ‘With your cooking? A chance at breakfast? I’ll just roll up in a blanket by the hearth and keep an eye on these hobbits as was half-drowned this day.’

 ‘And yourself, sir?’ Viola said. ‘We’ve an extry bed...’

 ‘I’ll just lie me down here,’ Haldi countered, and Ferdi felt the bed sag slightly at the foot as the escort stretched out at the bottom of the bed. ‘You just let me know if there’s aught you want or need, cousin.’ Haldi, after the events of the day, was not about to let the Thain out of his sight, even if it meant sleeping like a dog or younger cousin across the foot of the bed. He was a hobbit of the Thain's escort, after all, and very conscientious.

 ‘I’ll do that,’ Pippin said, and Ferdi heard him yawn immediately after. ‘I don’t suppose you could scare up a pony or two, that we might ride to the Smials...’

 ‘Now, then, Sir,’ Efram was heard to say, ‘morning light will be soon enough for that. You rest here, and we’ll see if we can do aught about that rattle in your breathing... I have a draught...’

Ferdi sat bolt upright. ‘Haldi,’ he said. ‘My clothes... the balm.’ When Pippin travelled, Diamond saw to it that at least one of his companions carried a jar of the balm that eased his breathing when he was troubled by shortness of breath. They had dressed Ferdi in dry clothes, however, after they’d carried him out of the stream. He hoped the jar of balm had not been lost.

 ‘Aye,’ Haldi said, and Ferdi felt him get up from the bed. ‘Healer Efram, if you’ll just come with me a moment...’

 ‘O now, Ferdi,’ Pippin said bad-temperedly. ‘No need for that smelly stuff. I’m well enough.’

 ‘You spent the better part of the day in a cold rushing river on my account,’ Ferdi said, ‘and on my account you had better suffer the balm.’

 ‘On your account?’ Pippin said, frankly astonished.

 ‘Aye,’ Ferdi said. ‘For I won’t sleep a wink for worry, should you refuse the stuff.’

 ‘O very well,’ Pippin said. ‘Otherwise they’ll likely pop me into a bed for a week, and I must be in Buckland in only a few days’ time!’

 ‘And I was to drive you there,’ Ferdi said. ‘But it looks as if I won’t be driving anyone anywhere...’

 ‘You’re already seeing light where you saw none earlier, Ferdi,’ Pippin said, his voice reassuring. ‘You’ll drive me to Buckland, or at least, you’ll drive me part way.’

 ‘Part way?’ Ferdi said.

 ‘Aye,’ Pippin said. ‘I don’t need an escort to cross the Brandywine on the Ferry.’

Ferdi shivered at the mention of the Ferry, and he felt Pippin’s hand close around his arm.

 ‘You’ll drive us nearly to Stock,’ Pippin said, ‘and you’ll go to visit your sister. It has been too long since you’ve made her a visit, and you’ve news to bring her of Nell’s latest!’

There was more news that Ferdi had to bring his sister as well... news of Pippin’s determination to stick with Ferdibrand to his last breath, news of Ferdibrand’s debt to his cousin, and his new-grown confidence and even... trust.

 ‘Nearly to Stock?’ he said.

 ‘That’s right,’ Pippin said. ‘We’ll leave the coach and ponies at the livery near the Ferry landing and take the Ferry across. No need for you to cool your heels for two weeks whilst we’re visiting Buckland! You spend that time with your sister and her family, or go back to the Smials and come fetch us when our visit’s done, or the like. I need an escort in Buckland as badly as Buckland needs water!’

 ‘Buckland doesn’t need water with that great menace of a River flowing by,’ Ferdi muttered.

 ‘Exactly,’ Pippin said.

 ‘I’ll strike a bargain with you,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘Oh?’

 ‘You take the draught, you let them smear the balm, you follow whatever healer’s orders that Efram might care to issue, and Woodruff when we get back to the Smials, and I’ll give you your freedom.’

 ‘What do you mean?’ Pippin said.

Of course if he continued blind all this would be moot; nevertheless Ferdi took a deep breath and boldly set aside years of Tradition. ‘I'll drive the coach myself, no servants and no other hobbits of escort to plague you... and I’ll take myself to Rosemary’s for a visit whilst you’re in Buckland, and drive you and Diamond home again when you’re done, and no one the wiser.’

 ‘Done,’ Pippin said. ‘To drive for an hour, a whole hour, without an escort!’

 ‘Two weeks,’ Ferdi corrected.

 ‘Hah,’ Pippin said. ‘You forget I’ll have Merry worrying at me when I get to Buckland!’

Ferdi snorted. It was true that the older cousin still looked after the younger cousin, out of force of long years of habit, or perhaps because of their experiences in the Outlands. In any event, Pippin needed no escort to look after him with both Diamond and Merry on task.

And so when Haldi and healer returned the balm was applied, and the draught was coaxed into Pippin for good measure, and they were ready to give Ferdi a draught as well but for the fact he feigned sleep.

It wasn’t long before he slept for real, with vivid dreams of hearth and home and Pimpernel. When nightmare tried to intrude, she held him close and soothed him.

And when he awakened in the early morning, Nell was there sitting beside him, and though his vision was blurred he saw enough by the light of the turned-down lamp.

 ‘Nell, my own, what are you doing here?’ he cried, sitting up in the bed. From the quiet that reigned it appeared to be early hours yet, with no signs of breakfast on the horizon. Haldi snored quietly, still stretched across the foot of the bed, and someone had laid a blanket over him.

From the other side of the bed, Diamond shushed him. ‘We rode out just after Haldi’s message reached the Smials,’ she whispered. ‘Now do be quiet and let my husband sleep!’

Ferdi fell quiet, and though it was a wonder to blink and rejoice in the light, blurred or otherwise, it wasn’t long before he fell asleep once more as well.

Shortly after noontide they set out for the Great Smials, arriving just in time for tea. Farry was glad to see his father, of course, and Nell and Ferdi’s brood welcomed them with cheers, and all settled down as if nothing had changed.

But of course it had.

Though Ferdi’s vision continued blurry for a few days more, by the time he took his place atop the box of the Thain's coach to drive Pippin, Diamond, and Farry to Buckland, he was seeing the world through new eyes.

He was seeing the world through new eyes... and Pippin as well, the trickster he’d grown up with, the Thain he now served, and the cousin closer than a brother that he had, at last, learned to trust.

Note to the Reader:
These notes are for my benefit as well as for anyone else's. I am trying to keep facts straight while making the story stand alone for anyone who hasn't read any of the other inter-related stories. Thus, hopefully one can read the story without stumbling over a lot of "asides" for the Reader who is saying, "But what about...?" in reference to a previously published story. A new reader, of course, worries about none of these things, but if you're like me you often wonder...

Chapter 1. Me and My Wife Settled Down
Pippin swore an oath of loyalty to the hobbits who served him in "Runaway", which is set a few months before "While There's Breath..." He did not, however, promise to make life easier for the hobbits of his escort.

I thought up the Thain's escort very early in the writing. It seemed logical to me that an important hobbit might be guarded, when travelling, from such hazards as stray dogs and wild swine, not to mention wolves and ruffians. What might have started out as a casual precaution, long years past, might have been cemented by years of practice into a rather rigid tradition.

Ferdi's head aches whenever there's a weather change, legacy of a ruffian's club in the Battle of Bywater, and a bad fall while riding in a pony-race, and a recent encounter with ruffians (A Matter of Appearances). Though he is well-recovered from that latest incident, by the time of this story (after all, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam came back from the brink of death in a fortnight, at Cormallen), his head will continue to bother him when the weather is changing, and because of all the rattling his poor brains have taken over the years, it doesn't take more than a tap on the head in a later story (under construction) to send him into temporary amnesia.

One example of the difficulty in getting to Pincup in rainy weather can be found in All that Glisters.

Pippin feels he must be in Buckland on the fifteenth of March because that is the anniversary of Merry's encounter with the Witch King. It is on his way back from this upcoming visit that At the End of His Rope begins.

Pippin's pony "Socks" is in semi-retirement after a bad fall while racing (see Flames and StarFire). Pippin still rides Socks on short, undemanding journeys, but for longer or harder use he rides "Firefoot", a high-spirited and speedy mare descended from Ferdibrand's "StarFire" (also known as "Star").

Hilly's wife has a slow-moving terminal illness, and Pippin doesn't take him away from his Posey for very long or very often. (See All that Glisters.)

The story of Ferdi and Nell, and how they came to be married (even though it is nearly unheard-of for a hobbit to marry a second time), is to be found in Flames.

Pimpernel's first child with Ferdi was born in FirstBorn, her second in Runaway, and her third... well, that won't be in this story, nor in any story already published, at the time of this writing.

Chapter 2. Stay There By Your Fireside Bright
Pippin's lungs were damaged not only by having a troll fall on him in the battle before the Black Gate, but several years after his return to the Shire he suffered a serious bout with pneumonia. ("The Old Gaffer's Friend", so named because it took the elderly rather swiftly and painlessly. It also took a grievous number of younger and stronger hobbits.) Though given up for lost, he was too stubborn to die, and had a long and slow recovery. Severe scarring of his lungs led to chronic breathing problems, bronchitis, and asthma-like symptoms. Thus everyone around him is watchful of his health (more so than he is himself), and those closest to him are all too aware that all it would take is "a lungful of smoke, or dust, or just a simple cold gone into the chest" to carry him off.

More on the pneumonia can be found in Jewels, in draft form at ff.net under authorname Lindelea1. Pippin's struggles with health are detailed in all the stories from Jewels to At the End of His Rope. See "Chronology of Stories" for a listing. My editor-friend also posted the chronology so you see it when you click on the authorname link "Lindelea" (which appears right by the title of each story I've posted) here at SoA.

Have outlined a Bandobras story but not written it yet. So many ideas, so little time!

Chapter 3. To Jump into the River and Drown
Conventional wisdom says you don't walk onto a flooded bridge, even though everything seems to be in working condition. Why are these characters ignoring this safety rule?

1) It avoids a boring story?

2) Appearances to the contrary, there's not a lot of flooding in Tookland as a rule (not like Buckland, set beside a mighty river). Why, years, decades even, can pass peacefully. In real life there might not be a flood for 100 years and then two "flood years" relatively close together. Anyhow, Tookland doesn't flood every year the way Buckland has a tendency to. There's just been a very wet spring this year, and rivers are above flood stage. If the streams were always this high, don't you think hobbits would be smart enough to build their bridges higher?

3) Tooks are a funny combination of arrogance and naiveté... sort of like the rest of us.

Hobbits can swim? you say incredulously.

Well, Brandybucks can, and while fanon has many examples of Merry teaching Pippin to swim, it does make sense to me that our Took might have learned this skill.

In my tradition of "the escort" I have arbitrarily decided that there were three prerequisites for achieving a place in this prestigious calling: to be able to a) run far, b) shoot accurately (we're talking archery and stone-throwing), and c) ride skilfully. If you think about it, you have to be in pretty good physical condition to run any distance. Those who cannot imagine hobbits running, just think of Fatty Bolger managing to run an entire mile before collapsing. Granted, he was in desperate fear at the time, but you try to run a mile, untrained, and see how far you get!

I also postulated at some point (probably in Flames) that the winner of the annual archery Tournament in Tookland (yes, I made it up) would have the first refusal of being the Head of the hobbits of the Thain's escort, a highly prestigious position and also a little better paid than just a "plain" escort. Can't tell you why, exactly. But it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Pippin added a fourth requirement: knowing how to swim. Despite the Tookish resistance he met, these hobbits were working for him and so he could press his point home. Considering how dangerous the wilds of the Green Hills could be, with rivers and bogs, it's probably a good skill to have.

Chapter 4. Sometimes I Take a Great Notion
The way Pippin keeps Ferdi going comes directly out of my memory of Bruce’s narration of Sometimes a Great Notion. So I suppose credit for the idea goes to Ken Kesey. Since I’ve not yet read his book and only heard a scant description of what sounds like a riveting scene, I’m not copying what he wrote. So far as the idea of using rescue-breathing, I might have thought it up on my own bent, perhaps. But let me give credit where it’s due.

Therefore the chapter title is a bow to Kesey’s Sometimes a Great Notion.

Not too many months ago, one little one was dozing on the bed while the other was jumping (strictly forbidden, by the way). The jumper unbalanced and fell backwards, back of head striking dozer rather like a cannonball on the point of the eyebrow. Dozer suffered a concussion and lost the sight in the right eye for some hours. At first all was black, then a dull grey blur (when a light was shined directly in the eye), and gradually vision returned, first shapes, and finally colour. So Ferdi’s blindness is based in fact. It’s not his eyes, but what’s going on inside his head. (This has also happened to Pippin, in a pre-Quest incident at Whittacres, his family's farm, and to Merry while in Minas Tirith around the time of Elessar's wedding, outlined in stories yet to be finished and published.)

Chapter 5. I'll Love Her ‘til the Seas Run Dry
The details of events briefly mentioned in this chapter can be found in Flames and Runaway. Edit: Oops, forgot to mention Pearl of Great Price, in which the events after the stable fire are covered more fully than anywhere else.

If you're curious about how they got Ferdi free, I've worked it out but have no time to type it in. If you really are curious, say something in a review and either I or my editor-friend will add the details to these notes later.

Chapter 6. I'll See You in my Dreams
This story ends shortly before At the End of His Rope begins. In the action that happens between this story and that one, Ferdi drives the coach to the Crowing Cockerel, they stay overnight, and then he drives them nearly to Stock. About an hour's walk/easy ride from Stock he stops the coach, hops down as Pippin climbs up to take the reins, and takes his leave, walking south a ways from the road to the home of Hally Woodcarver (Bolger), where he spends a fortnight visiting sister Rosemary and her family.

In one of the later chapters of One Who Sticks Closer Than a Brother, Tolly has been added to the party. He escorts the Thain and family as he sees fit and proper, all the way to Stock (thus heading off any gossip, or consternation on Tolly's part -- as head of escort, he'd be very disappointed in Ferdi if he found out that Ferdi, trusted to escort Pippin all the way to Buckland... didn't). Tolly goes on his way, fulfilling a commission for the Thain, after dropping Pippin, Diamond, and Farry at Buckland... but that's to be found in the concluding chapters of One Who Sticks Closer.)

And so, remaining consistent with earlier-written stories, Ferdi never comes close enough to see the Brandywine up close at this point on the timeline.

As pre-arranged, on a certain day Ferdi walks back to the road to meet the coach with the Thain's returning family, takes up the reins once more, and begins the drive back to the Great Smials. They stay overnight at the Crowing Cockerel and leave in the morning refreshed and eager for home.

Before the Road leaves the woods for the grassy rolling hills surrounding Tuckborough, the coach "comes a-cropper", and At the End of His Rope begins...