Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search

Striking Sparks  by Lindelea

Chapter 4. Healers' Consultation

'We'll have to trim off this flap of skin,' Mardi told his daughter. 'It'll die and dry up, anyhow, so we might as well get it out of the way now.' He suited words to action, with a sharp, 'Hold him still!' to the helpers at one point. 'We pull the two edges of the wound together, so... Now for the stitching...'

Rosamunda held out the needle, already threaded. Mardibold looked at her thoughtfully. 'I think we'll let you do the stitchery,' he said.

She looked at him, eyes questioning, but knew better than to express doubt in front of a patient. 'Yes, Father,' was all she said.

Mardi added his firm grasp to the farmer's arm. 'Hold as still as you can, Tom,' he said.

'O aye,' the farmer gasped, beads of sweat on his pale brow, but he made no further sound as the needle bit and the stitches were set.

'There,' Rosa said involuntarily as she tied the last stitch and cut the thread. Everyone sighed with relief.

'Off to bed with you now, Tom,' Mardi said, and to the farmer's wife he added, 'I want you to get him to drink as much water as you can get him to take. He bled overmuch, to my thinking.' To the farmer again, he said, 'You'll feel sick and shaky for a day or two, and it'll hurt like blazes. Don't be putting your hand through any more windows, now.'

'I'll keep it in mind,' the farmer said. 'Thanks, Healer Mardibold. What do I owe you?'

'A silver penny, if you have it. Two chickens'll do, if you haven't,' Mardi answered.

'Young Tom,' said the farmer to his eldest, who was helping him to the bed, 'go and fetch two of the fattest hens.' He looked up at Mardi. 'You want 'em live, or dressed?'

'Might as well dress them,' Mardi said. 'A dinner of roasted chicken would go well, I think.'

Young Tom nodded as he left the room. There was time for a cup of tea with the farmer's wife while they waited, and then, wrapped-up chickens in hand, Mardi and Rosa set off back to Tuckborough.

'Papa,' she said, as they walked the dusty road. 'Why do they say Pippin's not fit to be Thain?'

'Who says that?' Mardi asked slowly, though he had a good idea. Of an evening, down at the Spotted Duck, talk ran high when the mugs ran low.

'People,' she said.

'...and don't call him Pippin, girl, it's not respectful,' he added.

'Regi calls him that.'

'Regi's his steward. Not many may call him "Pip", as when he were just a young lad, a farmer's son making mischief about Tuckborough. You call him "Thain Peregrin" and you won't go wrong.' He was silent for a few steps, then stopped. What he had to say was better said while they were still surrounded by fields, no hobbits in sight at the moment, before they got back to the town.

'Saying he's "not fit" means a lot of different things to different people, lass,' he said. 'Some talk about how he's been off to foreign parts, corrupted by outlanders. Men are not to be trusted; remember how our folk used to hide from them, in the tales told of time long agone? Even now the King's issued an edict to keep Men out of the Shire. And Dwarves are greedy and grasping, and Elves... well, they're so far beyond us that most folk are a bit afraid of them, if they even see them at all. And Wizards, now... 'tis said that all they bring is trouble.'

'Are there any Wizards left in Middle-earth?' she asked.

Her father scratched his head. 'Well, now,' he said, 'I dunno. There might be. I only heard of Saruman blowing away in a puff of dust, and Gandalf sailing off with the Elves. There might have been more, but I haven't heard tell of any being seen in Tookland.'

'But he's done only good for the people,' she protested. ' "Corrupted"... that means ruined, doesn't it? Spoilt?'

'Aye, lass. And some say he's been spoilt, and mean it entirely different. Raised an only son amongst a flock of girls, petted and given his own way... he was a willful child, and Paladin had no idea how to manage him.'

'Regi said Paladin was harsh.'

'He were, child. He spoilt and raged by turns, near ruint the lad before Master of Buckland stepped in and took him off, like a farmer picking up a stray pup.'

'And that's another reason he's unfit,' Rosamunda said. '...because he's lived so much in Buckland and not in Tookland.'

'You have the right of it, daughter.'

'Is Buckland so different then?' Rosa asked. She had never been more than ten miles from Tuckborough in her life.

'To hear the Tooks talk, you would think so,' Mardibold said. He'd travelled all the way to Michel Delving once, never to Buckland, he had to admit. 'But hobbits are hobbits wherever you go. I'd think there's not much difference.' He sighed. 'But there's another way of being "unfit",' he added.

'And what is that?'

'The Thain is not well, lass,' he said, trusting her healer's training to interpret his words. 'He had a bad bout with the Old Gaffer's Friend* a few years back, and it near to tore out his lungs.' He held her gaze. 'Have you never noticed how he takes only half breaths?'

'No,' she said slowly, 'but...'

'It'll come in time. You're still learning,' he said. 'When you've been a healer as long as I have, you'll notice such things without even thinking.' He was silent. 'He has to take care,' he continued at last. 'Dust, smoke, a simple cold... and Tookland would be confirming Reginard as Thain.' He wanted to ask her how she'd feel about being married to the Thain, but as Regi had not yet spoken, he held his tongue.

'But he's a good Thain,' Rosamunda said stubbornly. 'Anybody with eyes can see that. He's done much good in just a few short months...'

'Aye, lass, and anytime you hear different, you make sure to correct the speaker,' her father said. 'Come now, these chickens won't roast themselves. Let's take ourselves off home.' They recommenced walking along the dusty road.

***

*Old Gaffer's Friend: Shire term for pneumonia, which took the elderly rather quickly and relatively painlessly, and quite a few who were not elderly as well.

***

Responses to Reviews, from original posting. (Almost forgot to add these to the previous chapter. They are there now, for those who missed them and are curious.)

~VI~ Nicely lengthy review, I devoured every bite. I write as obsessively as I used to read; since February I have turned out between one and three chapters a day, and if I don't I get twitchy. You are writing a book????? You are a real-live author???? O my. I am overwhelmed. Wish I could do such a thing, but I seem to be stuck in Middle-earth and that belongs to somebody else. Glad you haven't given up on my other stories, you'll find they all hang pretty much together (except the ones labeled AU, but they still try to be true to the characters as I see them)

Xena and Dana: I put this note in the wrong story, thus confusing myriad readers (okay, maybe a bare half dozen, whew, I feel better)... so here it is, where it belongs... Texas Tea? Really? Ah, well, that falls upon the ear better than the crazy- mixed up lyrics in my brain. Oil, that is. Black Gold. Movie Stars. (no no no no no, that cannot be right! Mixing two verses up! Imagining movie stars covered with bubbling crude, now. Well, from the tone of some of the movies that are out these days, it might not be so far from the truth...)

LadyJea: Would you believe, I dig this stuff up out of my subconscious? Shhhh, don't tell the men in their nice white coats or they'll be coming to take me away, haha. (anybody old enough to recognize *that* quote?) And "quash" is a lovely word. I don't know just where it popped out from, but it fit nicely into the conversation. Must be one of those Scrabble (TM) words Dh is always springing on me (ok, I get 72 points for that word... what? you've got xdfhggs? Hah. Good luck making a word from that!)

Jo: Nice to see you here! Thanks for reviewing!

Dana: Stay in the bed! (Pippin said reflectively, "And why do they call it a cold when you feel so miserably hot?" "None of your nonsense, now, lad,' Regi said sternly. 'Stay in the bed!' --dialogue from upcoming chapter in one of these stories, I forget which.)

To all... Auntie Regi cracks me up, too. I want to write a story where Pippin is nagging at HIM to stay in the bed! (And I *did*, too. "Where the Merlin Cries")





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List