Chapter 29. Laying Plans

The trouble with being under the care of healers, Ferdi mused, was that they were the most contrary of beings. It was bad enough that they forced him to eat and drink things he wouldn’t wish on a ruffian, much less another hobbit, but wakening him to give him a sleeping draught, now, surely that was the most ridiculous idea in the long history of the Shire.

 ‘Come now,’ Fescue said with a smile. ‘Drink it up, and you’ll sleep like a babe.’

 ‘I was sleeping like a babe before you wakened me,’ Ferdi grumbled. His leg hurt like a blazing fire, and his ribs ached, and the bones of his bow arm complained as he moved in the bed. He couldn’t escape the hated cup, however, and found himself drinking it in spite of all his best resolutions to leave it, though he complained loudly over the matter.

 ‘What’s this?’ came Hally Bolger’s hushed voice. ‘Awake? They told me you were sleeping and I’d have to give you my greetings on the morrow.’

 ‘I was sleeping,’ Ferdi repeated bad-temperedly. ‘When did you arrive, anyhow?’

 ‘Not long ago,’ his brother-in-love said. ‘Rosie’s tucking up the little ones as we speak. I just saw to the ponies before hunting you up.’ He smiled. ‘For a change you’re easy enough to find... not out running messages, or shadowing the Thain, or stalking a bit of coney for old Ferdinand’s culinary pleasure...’

 ‘He’s on liver rations now,’ Ferdi said, ‘to keep me company, he says.’ He hitched himself up on his elbows, the better to complain, and winced. ‘There’s no justice in’t—the hobbit likes liver.’

 ‘I saw Penny on the racecourse as we drove in,’ Hally said, changing the subject. ‘My, but she has a nice pace on her. Shall I lay a wager, do you think?’

 ‘If I were to advise you to do any wagering, Rosemary’d double my liver portion,’ Ferdi said. ‘You know how she feels about such.’

 ‘Tolibold Took was taking odds on the Thain’s pony,’ Hally said. ‘I must say he looks good, but a bit wild for my taste.’

 ‘Just like his owner,’ Ferdi muttered, then realised he was talking ill of the Thain. He gulped.

Fescue patted his shoulder. ‘It’s the draught talking,’ she said soothingly and smiled at Hally. ‘Pay him no mind.’

 ‘Don’t wager with Tolly,’ Ferdi said, resisting the watcher’s attempts to ease him down again. ‘He nearly always wins.’

 ‘Ah, that “nearly” gives me hope,’ Hally said with a grin.

 ‘You already...’ Ferdi said, pulling himself up again.

 ‘Steady, lad,’ Hally said, joining the fight to ease Ferdi back onto his pillows. ‘A silver penny only, not anything more than I’d be able to get along without... as it seems I won’t be standing you to any mugs at the Spotted Duck in the near future.’

 ‘A silver penny’ll buy you more’n one mug,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘Rosie doesn’t want me to drink too much as it is,’ Hally said, ‘so if I lose it’s no matter.’

 ‘She manages you dreadfully,’ Ferdi said sleepily, fighting the closing of his eyes.

 ‘Does she, now?’ Hally said softly, settling into one of the chairs next to the bed and taking Ferdi’s hand in his own. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

Ferdi was drifting away. His eyes closed and his breathing became more even, but he was not yet asleep enough to miss the exchange that followed.

 ‘A sleeping draught?’ Hally said. ‘Ferdi hates draughts. Is his leg paining him so?’

 ‘More the nightmares,’ Fescue said, pulling the coverlet up to the injured hobbit’s chin. ‘Woodruff’s left orders that when he begins to thrash and cry out, we’re to waken him and give him a draught. She wants to keep that leg as still as possible.’

 ‘How bad is it?’ Hally said. Try as he might, Ferdi could not stay awake long enough to hear the response.

***

He wakened the next morning with a start. ‘Steady now,’ Rosemary said beside him. ‘Just where do you think you’re going?’

 ‘Da,’ Ferdi said in dismay, looking at the bright morning sunshine outside the infirmary windows. ‘Late supper!’

 ‘He took late supper with you as usual,’ Rosemary said, ‘even though you slept through it.’

 ‘How rude of me,’ Ferdi said. ‘I hope he wasn’t put out.’

 ‘Not so you’d notice,’ his sister said with a smile. ‘He ate your portion of liver as well as his own.’

 ‘And welcome to it,’ Ferdi muttered.

Rosemary laughed. ‘You’re sounding more like yourself,’ she said.

 ‘When can I get up?’ Ferdi said.

 ‘Now you sound exactly like yourself,’ Rosemary said, ‘and the answer is, not for some time yet.’

 ‘Who said?’ Ferdi demanded, trying to push the coverlet off. His sister rose from her chair to pull the coverlet back in place. She remained standing over the bed, holding the bedclothes down on both sides of Ferdi's shoulders as he ineffectually tried to sit up.

 ‘The healers said,’ Rosemary returned. ‘Would you like a list of names?’

 ‘Healers!’ Ferdi huffed. ‘I’m well!’

 ‘Well,’ Rosemary said, shaking her head. ‘You’ve been torn nearly to pieces, your leg is not even stitched closed, you still have a bit of fever, and...’

 ‘I’d be well if I could be in my own bed,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘Ah yes, all this comfort and nice sunshine is so distressing,’ Rosemary teased. ‘You’d much rather crawl into that dark little hole you call a room.’

 ‘It’s mine, at least,’ Ferdi nearly shouted.

His sister’s face changed and she sat back. ‘Ferdi,’ she said softly. ‘Of course it’s yours! But it’s not the best place for you at the moment.’

One of the few things he could call his own, he thought darkly. His ponies, by rights, were forfeit to the Thain, unless he could get out of the bed and start working the stallion. The clothes hanging on the pegs in his room, why, someone else had paid for them. He didn’t even own the shirt on his back, he thought miserably.

 ‘Ferdi? Don’t go away like that,’ Rosemary pleaded, a hand on his arm. ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

 ‘I could use one,’ Ferdi said low. ‘But it wouldn’t be enough by a long shot.’ He looked at his sister. ‘I’ve got to get out of this bed, ride Penny to win in the Pony Races, and then go on to win the All-Shire Race, that’s all.’

 ‘For what, for the purses?’ Rosemary said, taking his meaning at once. You couldn’t get anything past Rosie. She leaned forward, her look changing from hurt to concern. ‘Ferdi, are you in trouble? Have you wagered yourself into debt?’

 ‘Nay,’ he said sharply, but he saw she didn’t believe him. ‘I don’t wager, you know that, Rose.’

She nodded, perceiving that he told the truth in that matter at least. ‘But you are in trouble of sorts,’ she said.

 ‘Of sorts,’ he conceded.

 ‘Want to tell me about it?’ she asked, after a pause.

 ‘No.’ Ferdi sighed. ‘O I’m sure you’ll find out about it eventually. It’s sure to be all the Talk.’

 ‘We don’t get much of the Talk down to Woody End,’ Rosemary said softly. She patted his arm. ‘The offer’s still open, you know.’ Hally had offered to build on to their little house, a room just for Ferdibrand, if he’d agree to move in with the Bolgers of Woody End. But of course, Ferdi wouldn’t leave his father living on the charity of the Thain, and old Ferdinand refused to leave the Great Smials, to burden Rosemary with his care. Ferdi was stuck, all right, squarely under Pippin’s thumb, and Pippin knew it well.

 ‘I know, Rosie,’ Ferdi said. ‘Don’t give my room away to someone else; you never know when I might come knocking on your door.’

Rosemary smiled faintly, a puzzled look in her eyes. Ferdi was keeping something to himself; she had enough experience dealing with her little brother to recognise the signs. She’d dig it out eventually. She’d had plenty of practice.

***

Over the next few days Ferdi didn’t have much chance to try to get out of bed, what with his sister and her husband taking turns sitting with him, and his nieces and nephews in and out of the room, distracting him with cheer, not to mention the young Gamgees. About the only time the head of escort had to himself was the deeps of the night, and the healers with their dratted sleeping draughts saw to it that he was not wakeful.

Two days before the Tookland Pony Races, Hilly came to see him, shooing away several Bolger nephews and a Gamgee or three.

 ‘How’s Penny?’ Ferdi said.

 ‘She’s in top condition,’ Hilly said, slapping his gloves against his knee. ‘You’ve done a fine job of bringing her along, Ferdi. I believe she’s in better shape than she was last year when she took fourth overall.’

 ‘I do appreciate your taking her in hand,’ Ferdi said.

Hilly cleared his throat, looking down at his feet while he shuffled them. ‘Well,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘I laid a wager that she’d win, and she cannot very well win if she’s not in the race, now, can she?’

 ‘You lose your wager if she’s scratched?’ Ferdi said, comprehension dawning.

 ‘Aye,’ Hilly said low.

 ‘You wagered more than you can afford to lose?’ Ferdi said, his voice stern.

 ‘I—I saw you working her last week, and...’ Hilly said miserably, sinking into a chair. ‘Why, she looked much better than Socks, even, and there’s Talk that Diamond won’t let Pippin race in any event, what with the dust of the racecourse and all...’

 ‘Who’s spreading Talk about the Thain?’ Ferdi said, sitting up, scandalised, ready to throw back the covers and deal with the miscreants.

 ‘Steady, Ferdi,’ Hilly said. ‘It’s the Talk, you know how it is! No one said it, but everyone’s saying...’

Ferdi calmed himself. He’d catch it if they found him out of bed, after all. They’d probably force a draught or two down his throat for good measure.

He sifted back through the conversation and realised that Hilly wasn’t telling him something. ‘So what’s wrong with Penny?’ he said at last.

Hilly jumped as if stung. ‘Who said there’s something wrong?’ he said.

 ‘You did,’ Ferdi said. It wasn’t exactly true, but Hilly’s tone of voice had been enough, when he was talking of Penny being in top condition, had Ferdi been paying close attention and not wrapped up in his own thoughts.

 ‘I said something’s wrong with Penny?’ Hilly said, thinking back rapidly. ‘I said she’s in top condition...’

 ‘So what’s the matter?’ Ferdi said. He held the younger hobbit’s gaze until suddenly Hilly’s face fell.

 ‘She doesn’t run for me the way she runs for you,’ he said to his toes. ‘I’ve seen her with you on her back, the way she gives you everything: heart, soul, strength, spirit...’

 ‘Such a poet, Hilly,’ Ferdi said acidly. ‘You ought to be writing books.’

The younger hobbit flushed and shuffled his feet.

Ferdi relented. ‘So she won’t give you her all,’ he said, ‘and you’re bright enough to pick up on that. Good for you. Not many would. She’s tricksy, that Penny is, makes you think she’s giving everything she’s got when she’s holding back the treasure hoard.’

 ‘Aye,’ Hilly said, still staring at his feet.

 ‘Ponies are naturally lazy creatures, as a rule,’ Ferdi said. ‘It’s no fault of yours.’

 ‘Then how do I get her to give it all?’ Hilly said.

 ‘Easy enough,’ Ferdi said sourly. ‘You help her into the world, watch her take her first steps, rub her down good, sleep in her stall, play with her, laugh with her, teach her right from wrong, learn her little ways...’

 ‘Aye,’ Hilly said. ‘I was afraid it was something like that.’ He sighed. ‘Well, unless the Thain scratches Socks from the race, I might as well sing a farewell song to my next six months’ wages.’

Ferdi gave a low whistle. ‘You’re a fool of a Took, Hilly.’

 ‘I am that,’ Hilly said. ‘Though I thought I’d grown past that, and let someone else take the title.’

 ‘Well now,’ Ferdi said. ‘We’ve got to work out some way to have Penny run her best.’

 ‘How are we going to do that?’ Hilly said miserably.

 ‘Well, we know she’ll go if I ride her,’ Ferdi said thoughtfully.

 ‘Yes, but how’re you...’ Hilly began, then sat up straight, lifting his eyes to stare into Ferdi’s with an accusing look. ‘You’re not...’

 ‘With a little help I could,’ Ferdi said as persuasively as he knew how. If he himself could ride Penny to win, instead of Hilly, he wouldn’t have to split the purse with Hilly, and Hilly would win his wager. Everyone would benefit.

 ‘How?’ Hilly said suspiciously.

Ferdi considered. At the moment there were no healers about, but you never knew if one might be lurking, ready to pounce with a plateful of liver or cup of unpleasant-tasting draught that would leave him sleepy or half out of his head. “For pain,” they’d smile. Truth be told, he’d rather have the pain than the fuzzy head...

Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he said, ‘Here’s what we do...’