Ferdibrand was vaguely aware of a whispered argument nearby; he appreciated that they were keeping their voices down, but wished they'd take the discussion somewhere else entirely. Gradually he became aware that he was the subject of discussion.

'...won't have you bothering him, whatever are you thinking of?'

'You'd be rousing him yourself, soon; with that blow to the head I imagine you'll waken him every hour or two through the day and into the night.'

'Yes, but...' Ferdi finally identified the protestor as Healer Woodruff, as vehement as a mother cat defending her kitten.

Another voice Ferdi did not recognise spoke. 'I only wish to ask him a few questions. This cannot wait, we must deal with it before the gossip starts to spread like wildfire; we must fight that fire with facts. He would want it resolved as quickly as possible, himself, I'm sure.'

Ferdi moaned and moved restlessly, his bow arm surprisingly stiff and aching deeply, though the pain was eclipsed by the throbbing in his skull.

'Ferdi?' Woodruff's voice spoke close to him, warm and gentle, somehow soothing and sustaining. 'Ferdi, are you with us?'

'Go away,' he said fretfully. 'Leave me be.'

'Ferdi, I need you to waken,' the healer persisted. 'Just for a moment, then you can go back to sleep.'

'I do not know what is the matter with you healers,' he grumbled. 'When I feel fit enough to rise, you say, "Stay in the bed!" and when all I want is a bit of rest you tell me to wake.'

'Ferdi,' Pippin's voice said close to his other ear, 'Fatty here needs to ask you a question or two.'

'Fine,' Ferdi said bitterly. 'Why don't you serve tea and crumpets whilst you're at it? We shall have a nice gossip over our teacups.' He put his good hand to his head and groaned. 'Please,' he whispered. 'Leave me be.'

'Ferdibrand.' It was the voice he hadn't recognised at first. 'Ferdi, what happened?'

'What do you mean?' Ferdi said, opening his eyes, only to shut them hastily again. The room spun even with his eyes shut, but at least he didn't see double with his lids down.

'What do you remember of the race?' the voice persisted.

'What race?' Ferdi asked, and heard a bitten-off exclamation from the Thain.

'He doesn't remember racing?'

'What do you remember?' Healer Woodruff said smoothly.

'There was more than one race,' Ferdi grumbled. 'Which one is it that you're not clear about?'

'The last one,' the voice, presumably "Fatty", said. "Fatty" who? Could it be Fredegar Bolger? And if so, what was he doing, asking questions? Wondering hurt Ferdi's head. Perhaps if he answered the questions they would go away and leave him alone.

'The last one?' he said. 'I was riding Socks, it was his semi-final race...'

'That's right,' Pippin said encouragingly, and a hand squeezed his shoulder gently.

'I... we... had a false start,' Ferdi said. He was beginning to feel nauseous as well as dizzy. 'We lined up again, and started, and...'

'Yes...?' Fatty said. 'Go on.'

'I...' Ferdi said, swallowing hard. He had begun to sweat, and Woodruff broke in.

'Are you feeling nauseated, Ferdi?'

He clamped his jaw and nodded.

'All right, that's enough,' the healer snapped, but Fatty persisted.

'Do you remember the accident?'

Ferdi took a few shallow breaths to steady his stomach. 'Accident?' he said, puzzled.

'What happened after the start?' Fatty pressed.

Ferdi opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again.

'Ferdi?' Pippin said.

'I... I don't know,' Ferdi answered, frustrated. 'I remember reaching the first turn, but...' It was like walking down a tunnel, only to find a door blocking his way.

'You don't remember anything after that?' Woodruff said.

Ferdi started to shake his head, but that hurt too much, so he contented himself with a whispered, 'No.'

'That's enough,' the healer said more gently. 'It's all right, Ferdi, you get some rest.'

'That's what I was trying to do in the first place,' he said bad-temperedly.

Pippin's hand squeezed his shoulder again. 'We'll talk later,' the Thain said quietly, but Ferdi didn't answer, as sleep crept over him again.

***

Fredegar Bolger sat back and sighed. 'I had hoped to hear his own version of the events.' He slapped his hands gently on his thighs and rose heavily from the chair. 'Ah, well,' he said. 'Plenty more witnesses to interview.' He looked keenly at the healer. 'I want to know immediately when he wakens again.'

'Yes, sir,' Woodruff said grudgingly. She turned to Hilly, standing uneasily by the door. 'Hilly, you keep watch now. Call me if his breathing changes, or if he spews, or if he wakens. I'll be back to rouse him again in an hour or two.'

'Yes'm,' Hilly answered. He sat quietly by the bed, watching Ferdi sleep, until the healer returned. She woke the reluctant Ferdibrand, asked him a few questions, and left again. Since Fatty Bolger did not put in an appearance, Hilly divined that Woodruff had not deigned to notify him that she had wakened Ferdi.

Hilly thought Ferdi had gone back to sleep, when the injured hobbit spoke, startling him.

'What was that all about?'

'What do you mean?' Hilly asked cautiously.

'Fatty Bolger was in here a moment ago, asking questions. What's it about?' A moment ago? O, he must mean the interview more than an hour before.

Hilly tried to put him off, but he persisted, and Hilly figured it was either send for Woodruff or answer Ferdi's questions. Knowing how Ferdi felt about healers, he thought he'd pursue the latter course.

'Congratulations,' he began.

'What for?' Ferdi asked.

'Penny is the fastest pony in Tookland. Her flowers are hanging right over there,' Hilly said, 'except for the mouthful or two she managed to snatch whilst the trophy was being presented.' Ferdi opened his eyes to see the garlands hanging from one of the pegs on the wall, and smiled weakly, closing his eyes again.

'Wish I'd been there to see it,' he said.

'It was quite the fat purse,' Hilly continued. 'There were so many entries this year, you know.'

'I know,' Ferdi said. 'A fat purse, eh? That might come in handy.'

'You'd think so,' Hilly said. 'Others think so too. There was a complaint lodged after the race.'

'Complaint?' Ferdi said.

'O aye,' Hilly answered. 'Evidently Hornblower Bracegirdle is accusing you of bumping him in the semi-final race, causing the accident.' And of course, if it could be proven that Ferdi had deliberately bumped him, Ferdi would have to pay him damages. Those damages would be high, seeing as how Hornblower's pony had broken a leg and had to be destroyed.

'I bumped him?' Ferdi asked in amazement.

'He says you bumped him,' Hilly emphasised. He sat a moment, then muttered to himself. 'Old Blow-hard. Wish he'd go blow his horn someplace else.'

'That doesn't help matters any,' Ferdi reproved.

Hilly went on. 'Fatty's been given charge of the investigation. The Thain excused himself on account of owning the pony you were riding, and he asked Odovacar Bolger to preside, but old Odo excused himself, for personal reasons, he said. I dunno, perhaps he had a wager on.'

'So they settled on Fatty, as a gentlehobbit, and an uninterested party.'

'Yes,' Hilly answered, 'and he's doing a thorough job of it. He's talked to every rider in the race, not just Hornblower and yourself, and all the hobbits who were watching by that part of the racecourse.'

'That's good,' Ferdi said, but Hilly was silent. 'What is it?' Ferdi said at last. 'Something's bothering you.'

'He talked to me,' Hilly said quietly. 'I don't like the questions he asked.'

'What questions?' Ferdi said.

Hilly was quiet for a moment, then said, 'Are you sure you don't remember anything after the first turn?'

Ferdi thought back, though it made his head ache more fiercely. 'No,' he said slowly, then, 'Hilly, you don't believe I would deliberately bump another rider? Does Fatty think so?'

'I don't know,' Hilly said. 'I just know that the questions he's asking... Ferdi, he asked about the ban that old Thain Paladin pronounced on you, and the rumour Pimpernel started, that you could not be trusted with children. He asked about your conduct, and how much you drink of an evening at the Duck, and even if you place wagers on pony races and the tournament and other contests...'

Ferdi was silent. It did sound as if Fatty were looking into his character. It shouldn't worry him; he had always done his best to walk rightly, but... he'd been damaged by unfounded gossip before. "The talk" could make or break a hobbit, and it had done him more harm than good, over the years.

He knew that he wouldn't deliberately bump another pony in a race... he knew he wouldn't. He just wished that he could remember what had actually happened...