Part II

By the morning, the Great Storm (as it later became known among the inhabitants of the Shire) had passed at last, leaving its damage behind for others to clean. Several fields would have to be replanted throughout the Shire, some of the oldest and poorest smials had been flooded and ruined, many trees had lost countless branches and many more were uprooted entirely, and the rivers were overflowing past many roads and bridges so that none could pass.

Working class and gentlehobbits alike came out of their holes and homes to survey the damage, and begin repair work as swiftly as possible. In Buckland, the farms closest to the Brandywine had become almost akin to swamps, and trenches needed to be dug to redirect the water back to the slowly subsiding river. In Hobbiton and Bywater, mudslides had overrun many roads and even came up to the very doors of some smials and houses, locking their inhabitants inside until their neighbors could dig them out. In Michel Delving, they fared better, having only some roofs to be replaced and trees replanted. And in the Tookland, a young Peregrin Took woke to once again find he had fallen asleep without being aware of it.

He awakened slowly, reluctantly. He was now tucked tightly into his bed, the morning sun streaming into the room, shining brightly, almost violently so after the gloom of the days before. Pippin yawned and stretched, unaware of the damage that rain could cause, and managed to forget the previous night for a moment as he lifted his face to the warm beams of sunlight. He hummed quietly to himself, a smile playing joyfully upon his face, but Pippin’s moment of peace was interrupted as someone knocked upon the door and entered the room. It was Paladin.

Suddenly the memories of the previous night – the rain sledding, the fear in Hilda’s eyes, his own mother’s powerful sobs – crashed into Pippin’s mind, disrupting his happiness and replacing it with cold misery. Ilberic had been found, his father had been right about that, but not in the Smials hiding safely from the storm. No, he had been found by the river, and he had been sleeping. But even Pippin understood that it was more than that, for no sleeping child could cause such a response in his unshakable mother.

“Da?” Pippin asked timidly, casting his eyes upon the coverlet, for the look in his father’s eyes stung him with guilt and shame. “Ilberic, is he - ?” He trailed off, unable to finish the question. Indeed, he found he was not even really sure what the question was. He knew only that he was afraid of the answer he would get.

“He’s not so well, Pip,” Paladin said, his voice weary from lack of sleep. He sat down on the bed next to his son. “But he will be fine, with time.”

Pippin heard the words, and hope returned, timid and frayed, in his heart. He lifted his head. “How is he now?”

“Now, he’s asleep. Truly sleeping. The healer’s seeing to him and he woke up for a few moments earlier this morning. None of the damage appears to be permanent.”

Damage. The word rang in Pippin’s head in horrifying echoes. He hung his head, not wanting to know more, wanting only to wake up again and find this all a horrible dream. But his father was wiser than his son’s young heart, and he continued.

“It could have been worse, much worse, and that’s saying something,” he said, watching his son’s tiny hands clutching the coverlet. “Best we can figure it, Ilberic must have lost you in the halls and went out one of the West doors: one of the searchers found it standing open. He looks to have sprained his ankle and must have fallen from the pain and hit his head upon a rock. By the time we found him, the river had risen and he was almost completely submerged. We had a time of it getting him to breathe again, and he still has quite a bit of fluid in his lungs. He’ll be under the weather, in a manner of speaking, for a while yet. He’s already coughing and has a fever.”

“It’s all my fault!” Pippin burst out, feeling more wretched now than before.

But Paladin fixed him with a soft, sympathetic look. “That’s a mighty big claim for one so small.”

“But it is!” Pippin said, tears filling his eyes as the emotions of the previous night finally found release. Tears spilled forth and streamed down his cheeks unchecked. “I’m the one who got everyone to go out! I’m the one who ignored him.”

“Well,” Paladin mused, “that is true. It was your idea, and you did ignore him. But it wasn’t your fault. There was no way anyone could guess this would happen. If anyone is to blame, it would be Ilberic.”

“What?” Pippin said, snapping his head up. How could his father say such a thing?

Paladin fixed him with a piercing gaze and continued. “Isn’t he the one who chose to follow you? He also chose to remain outside when he didn’t find you immediately, instead of coming back inside directly, as he no doubt knew he should.”

“But,” Pippin said, struggling to figure out how his father was wrong. “He didn’t choose to get hurt!” Pippin cried, not believing his father could overlook something so obvious.

“No, he didn’t,” Paladin agreed. “And so he isn’t to blame after all, and neither are you. We make our choices based on what we know at the time, and we should always be responsible for those choices. But if Fate decides to send us a cruel turn, or even a blessed one, we cannot be responsible for that. In such a case, we can only be responsible for what we choose to do afterward. What do you choose to do, Peregrin?”

Pippin thought long and hard about this, trying to make sense in his child’s mind of his father’s wisdom. He knew his father was telling him something important, something worth remembering. He knew also he was being given a choice. To do what?

He looked at his father and shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully.

Paladin smiled and scooped his son into a mighty hug. Pippin sank into his father’s warm embrace, grateful for the safe haven those arms provided.

“Then you best eat something, and think about how you are going to treat Ilberic in the future. You don’t have to be his friend, but I won’t abide you ignoring him any longer.”

Paladin stood Pippin on the floor and ruffled his curls affectionately. He stood and was about to leave when Pippin tugged on his trousers. “Mum? Is she going to be all right? She was crying.”

“She was scared at the thought of losing you or one of your sisters, and relieved that she had not, and feeling guilty to feel relief while another was grieving. Those are hard things to keep bottled up. You will find she’s quite back to her normal self, and not altogether pleased with the state of your brand new clothes. Step lightly, my son.” He winked and took his son’s hand in his own and gave it a light squeeze. “Get changed and come down to the dining hall. You can see your cousin when he next awakens.” With that, he left the room and Pippin stood for several minutes, still confused but with a substantial weight lifted from his shoulders.
 

The mood in the hall was more reserved than was typical for such a bright morning. Pippin spotted Freddy and Estella, and Ferdinand and Everard, sitting with their families. He noticed that Hilda and her family were not present and figured they were eating in their rooms to be near Ilberic. He went to the table where his family always sat at the front of the hall, and sat next to Pimpernel, who served him. His mother fixed him with a loving gaze, but quickly told him he was restricted indoors until the tailor suited him with new clothes. Apparently, grass stains and torn sleeves were not so easily repairable as he had thought. He managed to refrain from groaning upon hearing his punishment – a groan could easily elongate his restriction, depending on how loud it was or how long it was held – and he did not wish to spend the day being suited for an entire new wardrobe.

The morning passed slowly. All his cousins and friends were outside, enjoying the returned sun and surveying with the innocence of youth the damage of the storm. Only his sister Pervinca was there to keep him company, being on the same restriction as he, but she preferred to ignore him when there wasn’t fun to be had, unless she was teasing him mercilessly. As she wasn’t in the mood to tease, Pippin was left to himself.

Pippin stared longingly out the window and listened with wistful bitterness to the laughter he heard just beyond his sight. How he would love to be out there, running free over the hillsides, instead of standing here as still as possible, his arms held out at his sides as the tailor made his achingly slow and seemingly endless measurements.

The tailor finally released him just in time for elevenses, and he was able to sit with his friends as they discussed in hushed whispers of the previous night's events. Everard gave a full account of all that had happened once he returned to help with the search. The search inside the Smials had gone quickly, and it was determined with grimness that Ilberic must be outside. The search had continued in the endless rain and sleet, until a great commotion arose from the river. Ilberic had been found, unconscious. Everard had been sent to alert the resident healer as the others took the lad inside and set about warming his small and freezing frame. No one got much sleep as they waited for the healer to tend to the lad and declare his prognosis.

“It could have been worse,” Everard finished.

Freddy and Estella had little additional information. They had been permitted to peek in on their cousin earlier but couldn’t see much with all the adults standing in the way. They could hear Ilberic breathing hoarsely and coughing incessantly. They spoke with Doderic, Ilberic's brother, but no new information could be learned from him.

After elevenses, Eglantine sent for her son. Pippin watched as Vinca stepped out into the sun and ran after their sisters. Freddy clapped him on the back.

“I’ll wait for you if you like,” he offered.

Pippin smiled for the offer but declined, knowing Freddy would want to be outside enjoying himself. He waited until his friend was out of sight beyond a bend of the outer wall, then sought out his mother. He found her in their rooms, straightening the mess his sisters had left that morning. She looked up when she heard the door open.

“Ilberic is awake again, though probably not for long,” she said, dropping what she was doing and taking her son’s hand before he could find a place to sit. “Come along.”

She led him through the Smials until they were in the guest quarters, standing before a closed door. She knocked softly but steadily, and a moment later, the door was opened by Ilberic’s father, Seredic. He let them in, smiling fondly though tiredly at Pippin.

“How is he?” Eglantine asked, releasing Pippin’s hand and hugging Seredic tightly.

“Well, it’s hard to say at this point, but the healer’s confident he’ll mend in full. Hilda’s asleep,” Seredic replied and the adults’ voices droned on into an indiscernible din as Pippin focused his attention upon another door.

His cousin must be there, behind that door, lying in wait. He was awake, Eglantine had said, and she had brought Pippin clearly for the purpose of seeing him, but he hesitated. Despite Paladin's reassurances and the caring, nonjudgmental looks of all those around him, he still felt incredibly guilty. He may not have caused the accident, but Ilberic had only gone outside to spend time with a cousin who hadn’t wanted him around. Pippin couldn’t imagine that anything his cousin may say to would be kind.

From the reports he had heard thus far, he had another reason for not wanting to see his cousin, for what would he see once he was on the other side of the door? What would Ilberic look like? Like death itself? That was certainly the picture that had been lurking at the edge of Pippin's since his father first described how Ilberic had been found. Pippin had tried all morning to ignore it, to push it into oblivion by focusing on the sun outside or the annoyingly slow tailor or his sister’s prudish behavior. He had tried to ignore it by focusing on just about anything else that crossed his path. Now his path had led him here, to the very thing he was trying to forget, and he could not ignore it any longer.

He glanced back at his mother, hoping for a final moment’s grace that would save him from this encounter. Eglantine only glanced briefly at him and with a pointed nod of her head towards the door, she went back to her conversation.

Pippin took a deep breath and held it, as he had seen his father do this a couple of times during moments less tense that this. He figured it was supposed to make him feel better or stronger, but it didn’t help. Maybe he was doing it wrong. He took another deep breath and held it. His mother cleared her throat behind him. He sighed, defeated, and placed his hand lightly upon the handle and pushed.

The door swung open into a dim room. The curtains were closed against the light outside and a fire was roaring in the hearth. Pippin stepped inside but left the door open, not wanting to be out of his mother’s sight.

He noticed there were two beds, both occupied. Hilda lay upon the bed closest to the door, sound asleep from exhaustion and worry. A thin blanket covered her. In the other bed, closest to the fire, was a smaller lump covered by many thick blankets. It was Ilberic. Pippin approached with near silent footsteps and peeked at his cousin who, for the moment, appeared to be asleep yet again.

Ilberic was pale to look upon, and his breath was raspy and forced. Pippin noticed a deep gash across his cousin’s cheek, red and bruised, stitched together by many tiny knots. A dark purple lump was over Ilberic's left temple; it hurt just to look at it. Pippin remembered that Ilberic's ankle had been sprained and wondered if his foot was bandaged under the many blankets and coverlets.

Pippin sat on the chair next to the bed and waited, unsure what else he was supposed to do. He focused on a part of the coverlet that was beginning to unravel, and the adults murmuring in the other room, and Hilda’s soft snores, and the fire crackling merrily behind the grate.

“Hi, Pip,” a ragged voice said, interrupting his reverie and startling him. Pippin jumped from his seat and stared at his cousin, who was awake and watching him and had been for some time. Now that he was awake, the injuries didn’t seem so glaring and hideous, but his cousin still looked pale and tired.

“Good morning, Ilberic,” Pippin replied, manners taking over. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Ilberic said as a coughing fit seized him. Several moments passed before he was able to regain control and return his attention to his visitor. When he did, Pippin noticed with relief that he didn’t seem angry or upset, but was regarding his older cousin with thoughtful excitement. Pippin wondered what it meant.

“You’re sick,” Pippin stated, more to fill the room with sound than endure much more of Ilberic’s silent observations.

“Yes,” Ilberic whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Pippin said.

“What for?”

“For everything. This shouldn’t have happened.”

Now Ilberic fixed Pippin with a look of confusion. “But, I thought you’d be pleased. Don’t you see, I had my first real adventure,” he said, smiling now for the first time. He continued before Pippin could respond. “I was very scared, and I thought I was going to die. But it was my first adventure, all by myself, and I survived! Now I reckon I won’t be afraid to try anything you want to do.”

He was stopped again by another coughing fit, this one longer and harsher than the previous one. When it was over, he fixed his cousin with another pleased and satisfied grin. Then Pippin smiled also, sheepishly and uncertainly, but relieved to see his cousin held no ill feelings toward him.

“I’m still sorry though. We should have invited you to join us, then you wouldn’t have got lost,” Pippin said.

Ilberic merely shrugged. “It’s not so bad really. Mom’s been waiting on me hand and foot, and everyone’s been stopping by to visit, and I even got breakfast just as I wanted it. I could rather get used to this. Except the coughing and wheezing, and the sore head and ankle. I’ll be glad when that part’s over,” he finished as another coughing fit seized him. His mother stirred in the other bed but didn’t awaken. He reached for a glass of water beside his bed and took a long drink. When his parched throat was satisfied, he put the glass back and looked at Pippin again, and found Pippin looking at him with confusion.

“How did you get down to the river?” Pippin asked, not even aware until he spoke the words that the puzzle had been gnawing at him since the night before.

“I don’t know,” Ilberic answered slowly, trying to think through the pounding in his head. “I remember walking around for a bit, looking for all of you. I thought I heard your voices at one point, but it took me away from the Smials, and you weren’t there. I must have got turned around. The lightning started, I got scared and ran back toward the Smials, but I guess I was going the wrong way. Then I tripped, and that’s all I remember.”

Pippin said nothing. He felt horribly guilty again, though he knew his cousin didn’t blame him for what happened. He should have invited his cousin to come with them. He had seen him with his brother and sister as he dragged Vinca through the Smials looking for conspirators, but had passed Ilberic quickly before they could be spotted. Only they had been spotted. Pippin made his choice: he vowed never to ignore his cousin again or leave him out of a game, even if Ilberic went back to his fretful ways.

Pippin’s thoughts were interrupted by a hoarse whisper. “So, what’s planned for tonight? I won’t be able to help, of course, but maybe I can think of something.”

Pippin laughed then. Had Ilberic read his mind? Was he testing him? Pippin would pass this test without any trouble. With that question, he finally understood beyond any doubt that everything would be fine. He glanced out the door and noticed his mother and Seredic still deep in conversation. Hilda slept soundly. Pippin leaned forward and spoke silently into his cousin’s ear. “We’re planning a kitchen raid tonight.”

Ilberic’s eyes widened and for the briefest of moments, Pippin thought he might just call out to his father and tell on him, but instead he leaned forward and said, “Do you think you could sneak me some of those cream pastries?”

Pippin smiled at his friend. Yes, he decided, things most definitely could have been worse.
 
 

The End
 
 
 
 
GF 1/22/04
Revised 12/30/06