Chapter 37. From Frying Pan to Fire

It was rather less than the week Woodruff wanted but rather more than a day later that Ferdi arose from his bed in the infirmary. Rosemary was not there to cheer him on, for she and Hally had returned to their home in the Woody End. They’d see one another in Michel Delving, in less than a month. “Ride to win,” Hally had told Ferdi in parting, and the latter had nodded with a grin. Hally’d had the look of a hobbit who’d already laid his wager...

 ‘Thanks,’ Ferdi said now to Tolly as that hobbit put a stick in Ferdi’s left hand and lifted Ferdi’s right arm over his own shoulders. ‘I was beginning to think the bed had won.’

 ‘Put as little weight on that leg...’ Woodruff warned, watching him narrowly.

 ‘Yes’m,’ Ferdi said meekly, letting his weight rest on Tolly and the stick. Anything to win his escape.

 ‘We’ll walk to the door,’ Tolly said.

 ‘And back again,’ Woodruff interrupted.

 ‘Back!’ Ferdi protested.

 ‘Back,’ Woodruff said firmly. She watched Ferdi’s hopping progress to the door and back to the bed, where Tolly eased him down. She nodded. Ferdi disguised his weakness marvellously well, with that iron will of his, but she could see the trembling in the uninjured limb. ‘You’ve been two weeks in the bed, it stands to reason...’

 ‘Stands to reason! I can barely stand at all,’ Ferdi muttered to Tolly. ‘One thing I do know is I cannot stand another moment in that bed!’

 ‘We’ll carry you to your own bed,’ Woodruff said, ‘where you’ll stay, with a watcher,’ she added more firmly, ‘and be allowed up a little more each day, while you’re regaining your strength.’

 ‘I can sit in a chair as well as a bed,’ Ferdi said, daring her to contradict.

 ‘I suppose, if you kept your leg up on a cushion,’ the healer conceded.

 ‘Then why not in a chair in the yard?’ Ferdi said. ‘Hilly could be working the stallion whilst I direct him.’

 ‘Ferdi,’ Tolly said, warning in his tone, but Woodruff laughed. It was exactly as she’d hoped; Ferdi was pushing past her limits, but he’d set a limit of his own in suggesting the chair, and he’d be honour-bound to stick with it, longer than if Woodruff had been the one to make the suggestion.

 ‘You never stop pushing,’ was all she said, shaking her head. ‘Very well. A chair in the yard it will be, with your leg propped up on another chair, and Hilly works the stallion. He’ll be riding him in the big race, I take it?’

 ‘No, I’m to do that,’ Ferdi said.

 ‘What about Penny?’ Tolly said in surprise. ‘She had Socks beat before the Rohan put himself in the race.’

 ‘Pip is determined to run Socks and the Rohan at Michel Delving,’ Ferdi said. ‘It’s his prerogative.’

 ‘But he must pay you a bounty, to withdraw your Penny,’ Tolly said. ‘By rights the place is hers.’

 ‘He has,’ Ferdi said, and Tolly’s eyebrows rose. He’d heard nothing of the sort, from the Talk. Speculation was still rife amongst the Tooks as to just which Tookish ponies would run in the All-Shire race, and who would do the riding. The traditionalists held that Pip would ride Socks and Ferdi would ride Penny, but those with an eye for wagering held out for the entry of the stallion of Rohan and his seemingly better chance at winning the whole—and at more profitable odds for wagering Tooks, for the other hobbits would discount the rumours of his performance at the Tookland Races as mere Talk.

As for the bounty, well, Pippin had reduced Ferdi’s penalty to an amount that he could reasonably hope to pay. Even though his cousin maintained that he had manoeuvred Ferdi into his difficulty and offered to release Ferdi completely from the debt, Ferdi had unexpectedly countered him. The Thain had pronounced judgment, after all, and Ferdibrand was going to hold him to it.

It was no skin off his teeth at this point. He knew he could take third or better in the All-Shire race. He knew he’d keep his ponies. Dapple was already safely his again, and Penny would be soon enough. He knew after hearing Pippin’s confession that the winner’s purse would burn Pip’s hand as if it contained coals of fire. Pip would give the gold away as quick as he could... If Ferdi was to become Pippin’s conscience, he’d rub Pippin’s nose in the consequences of his actions, and perhaps Pip would think twice before passing judgment on another hobbit in future.

 ‘In any event,’ Woodruff was saying, and Ferdi brought his mind back to the present, ‘there’s time yet for you to be working with ponies. For now we’ll take you to your own bed, to rest.’

Ferdi did not argue. ‘My own bed,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Never thought I’d be so glad to contemplate such a thing.’

Woodruff gestured to Healer Fennel, standing in the doorway. Ferdi stood once more; Fennel and Tolly linked arms to make a “lady chair” behind him and he eased himself down into their firm grasp. ‘Up we come!’ Fennel said cheerily. ‘Next stop, your own room.’

 ‘Say goodbye to the infirmary,’ Tolly muttered in Ferdi’s ear.

 ‘Goodbye, and good riddance!’ Ferdi said rather louder than he meant to, but Woodruff only smiled.

 ‘Same to you, Master Took!’ she replied.

Pippin and Hilly were waiting in Ferdi’s room. Ferdi looked about in wonder at the transformation of his humble abode. ‘Pip, you shouldn’t have,’ he said at last, as Tolly and Fennel eased him down on the bed and the healer tucked him up, making sure the injured leg was propped comfortably on a pillow.

 ‘I didn’t,’ Pippin said complacently. ‘It was all your nieces’ and nephews’ doing.’

The Gamgees had gone back to Hobbiton, but their handiwork remained to remind Ferdi of his place in their affections. The bright coverlet had been washed clean of the blood and dirt; the tablecloth and cushions remained, and several colourful piecework wall-hangings now graced the plain whitewashed walls. Ferdi’s clothes hung neatly from their hooks, and several more new items had been added, including a fine coat of emerald green.

 ‘This cannot be my room,’ Ferdi said after Pippin dismissed Tolly and Fennel, and Hilly settled to watch at the side of Ferdi’s bed. ‘How will I ever find rest? It is all too fine for me.’

 ‘Well,’ Pippin said. ‘We cannot have that! Perhaps a breath of fresh air will help you find your rest.’

Ferdi perked up at this, throwing his covers back. ‘What are we waiting for?’ he said. He’d been resigned to another day or three in the bed, but things were looking up.

Hilly wanted to protest but didn’t quite dare in the face of the Thain and the head of escort; he was a mere hobbit of the escort, after all, and under Ferdi’s authority, and it didn’t look as if Ferdi were about to counter Pippin’s suggestion.

 ‘Come, Hilly, we’ll take him between us,’ Pippin said. ‘Leave the stick, Ferdi, you won’t be needing it,’ he added. ‘You’re not to be walking or putting any weight on that leg, you know.’

 ‘So I’ve heard,’ Ferdi said as they lifted him. He felt like a king as he was borne through the corridors of the Great Smials, his arms around the shoulders of his cousins.

Outside the Sun was shining as brightly as she’d promised through the infirmary windows. Ferdi took in deep lungfuls of the fresh air, feeling as if he’d never get enough.

Someone had been planning ahead. Two chairs were already set up by the stallion’s paddock, comfortable armchairs looking quite out of place in the yard—evidently taken from the best parlour, or second-best at the least. They settled Ferdi in one and propped his leg on the other.

 ‘Comfy?’ Pippin said, a twinkle in his eye.

 ‘Quite,’ Ferdi replied.

 ‘Good!’ Pippin said with a decisive nod. ‘Let us get down to business! Tell Hilly what he’s to do. I’m off to my study, but I’ll send Tolly to fetch you back to your room in an hour or so.’

 ‘An hour!’ Ferdi said. ‘That’s barely enough to scratch the surface!’

 ‘An hour,’ Pippin replied firmly. ‘If you’re a good lad we’ll make it two on the morrow.’