Chapter 12. Making Do

Reginard found Rosa in the great hall, taking tea with her father. She smiled to see him, and Mardi rose to slap his back.

'Have you eaten today?' the healer said.

'I had a little breakfast,' Regi admitted.

'And here it is, teatime!' Mardi said, shocked. 'Sit down, here, whilst the healer orders the proper medicine!' Muttering to himself, he went off.

'How is he?' Regi asked.

Rosa knew whom he meant. 'The same,' she sighed. 'We managed to get some broth into him, but it was a tricky business, as he never really was with us.' Her eyes met Regi's. 'All those who breathed smoke need to drink as much as possible. Is someone watching Ferdibrand?'

'Your Uncle Tolly is with him,' Reginard said. 'Ferdi doesn't stand a chance. Tolly knows how to give draughts to ponies, and Ferdi knows he'll do the same to him as to a pony, if need be.'

Rosa smiled at the image. 'Perhaps we ought to do the same with the Thain, I'm thinking,' she said. 'We'll keep doing our best to trickle it in, water, broth, whatever, until he wakens enough to tell us to stop.'

'Remind me never to fall ill,' Regi said.

Rosa looked at him with sober eyes. 'Never fall ill,' she said sternly.

Her father bustled up with a laden tray. 'Good advice,' he said briskly, 'if you can follow it.' He plonked down several dishes and a mug of tea before Regi. 'Start here, by eating everything your healer has prescribed you.'

Rosa smiled at the look Regi gave her father, but she chose to say nothing, and Regi, meeting her eye, grinned suddenly and began to ply his fork.

Mardi jerked his chin in satisfaction and seated himself again.

He waited until Regi was halfway finished before speaking again. 'How's young Ferdibrand? I must say I was surprised to hear he was on the fire lines.'

'Pippin sent him there,' Regi said.

Mardi shook his head. 'I suppose he knew what he was doing.'

'What is it, Father?' Rosa asked.

Regi looked at her, surprised, but Mardi shook his head.

'It's common knowledge amongst the Tooks who live in the Smials, Regi,' he said, 'but they kept the story from going further. Tookish pride, and all that. Who wants to own a coward for a close relation?'

'Ferdi's no coward,' Regi snapped, putting down his fork.

'His exploits in the Troubles were all well and good, and they give him credit for the risks he took; but when fire's involved, the old trouble rears its ugly head. He ran from that blaze, years ago, and the Tooks have never forgiven him. Had it not been for Pippin...'

'Pippin was just as responsible as Ferdi that the blaze started in the first place,' Reginard answered.

Rosa was looking from one to the other in confusion. Her father covered her hand with his own. 'It is an old story, lass, going back to the time of the old Thain, not Thain Paladin, mind, but Thain Ferumbras before him.'

'It was mischief, just mischief, that went wrong,' Regi said. 'Had the pony not kicked the lantern over...'

'Had the two of them not decided to dye the pony blue in the first place...' Mardi interrupted.

'Blue!' Rosa gasped.

'O aye,' Mardi said, ' 'twould have been a grand prank. Thain Ferumbras was overfond of saying "that's a pony of a different colour" and so the lads thought they'd give him one. The Thain's prize stallion at the time was a pale grey, almost white, and they thought they'd give him a different colour to greet the dawn... sneaked into the stable in the middle night. But the pony upset the lantern and set the straw aflame.'

'Ferdi tried to pull Pippin away,' Regi put in, 'knowing the whole stables would go up in minutes. When Pippin wouldn't go, Ferdi ran out, to get help.'

'But Pippin stayed,' Mardi said quietly. 'Knowing the whole stables would go up in minutes. He soaked his cloak in a bucket and beat out the flames. Pippin was a hero, and Ferdi was a coward, even though they'd been in the prank together, and they both dealt with the fire in their own way.' He sighed. 'P'rhaps if old Ferumbras hadn't died that night - some said due to consternation. But the fact is, Ferdi left a tween seven years younger than himself to deal with a stable fire, and Pip heroically stayed to fight, and burned himself into the bargain, but he got the fire out before it could spread.'

'It is not so simple as you say,' Regi contradicted. 'Ferdi's always been... wary of fire.'

'As he should be,' Mardi said softly. 'But let it go at that.'

'No,' Rosamunda said. 'I have heard so much talk... he saved the Thain's life, in this fire. Why should they call him a coward?'

'He is wary of fire,' Regi repeated. 'When he was young, but a teen, he saw someone close to him burned to death in a fire, and it has haunted him ever since. He could not bring himself to fight the stable fire, but ran. When the back fire was set, he jumped on a pony, and ran again, never mind that he was off to the woods to warn the foresters. And then when they set off the black powder...'

'But he didn't run,' Rosa said. 'He stayed, when the flames leapt to the sky, fierce and bright. He didn't run until the smoke rolled over them, and then only to save the Thain.'

'Who told you that?' Regi said.

'Thain Peregrin himself,' Rosamunda said. 'O no, he hasn't come to himself. He spoke in a dream, cracked, broken words, but clear enough. You can ask Diamond, for she heard him too.'

***

After teatime, Regi checked on Pippin again, then returned to Faramir's room, to find the lad still sleeping. 'Go and get yourself some tea,' he said to the nurse. 'I'll watch here while you do.' She nodded and left.

He sat a long time, looking into the lad's sleeping face, wishing he could just stay in this peaceful moment, away from worry and responsibility. If Pippin died, he, Regi, would be Thain. The weight of the Shire would descend upon his shoulders. Ah, well, better him than this scrap of a lad. He wondered what Rosa would say if he proposed acting as Regent for Faramir, the custom the Brandybucks followed, that Pippin's lad might follow his father as Thain. ...or would she insist that Regi take on the Thainship and secure the position for their own son, supposing they had one?

Suddenly the lad's eyes were open and looking into his. 'I fell asleep,' Faramir said accusingly. 'You let me fall asleep.'

'You needed to sleep, lad,' Regi answered. 'It won't help anyone at all should you fall ill.'

Faramir's eyes filled with tears, which he impatiently dashed away, sitting up and turning his back to the steward. 'But I mustn't sleep,' he whispered. 'If I sleep, he might...' he stopped, and took a shuddering breath. 'Is he...?'

'He's still fighting, lad. He's got a lot to be fighting for,' Regi answered. 'The healer said I can take you to him, if you like.'

The lad sat, stiff and unmoving, for a moment, then nodded. 'Please,' he said softly. He looked up. 'Does this mean he's dying, and you're bringing me to him, to take my leave of him?'

Regi gathered him into a hug, which the lad did not resist. 'No, lad,' he whispered. 'It means that I told the healer you and your Da are in need of each other.'

Faramir pushed himself back to look into the steward's face. 'Thank you,' he said simply. 'May we go now?'

No nonsense about this lad. Regi smiled down at him. 'Of course,' he said, 'just as soon as you've eaten some breakfast.'

***

They paused outside the bedroom door, and Regi could see the lad tense. 'You don't have to go in,' he said.

Faramir shook his head, drew himself up to his full height, reached for the knob and pushed the door open.

Diamond looked up, reaching her free hand towards her son. Faramir stumbled to her, to be enveloped, hugging her fiercely in return, then pulling back to look at his father.

'Pippin,' Diamond said softly. 'Faramir's here.' She took the lad's hand and joined it with his father's. 'Hold tight,' she said, perhaps to Faramir, perhaps to both of them.

'I'm here, Da,' Faramir said. 'D'you hear me?'

The chest continued to rise and fall, quick, shallow breaths. 'See, lad,' Diamond said softly. 'He's fighting to stay with us. He cannot talk to us now, but he hears us. He can feel our love and our hope.' She raised her voice slightly. 'O my love, come back to us soon. We're waiting for you.' She put her hand on Faramir's, sandwiching it between her fingers and her husband's hand.

Woodruff spoke from the other side of the bed. 'Every hour brings more healing,' she said. 'He's better than he was yesterday.'

'Will he be better tomorrow, then?' Faramir asked. The healer smiled, compassion in her eyes, but would not answer. She would not lie to the lad.

He read the answer from her face, and nodded. The healers had no answers, neither yea nor nay.

'We must keep hoping,' Diamond told her son. With her free hand, she patted her lap. 'Come and sit with us awhile. D'you suppose you could tell us a story?'

'A story?' Faramir said, wondering.

'Yes, lad,' Healer Woodruff said. 'When you're old enough to watch by a bedside, you'll find you tell many stories. We never let a hobbit walk alone in the dark, we hold his hand and talk and sing until he opens his eyes to the light again.'

The lad nodded, twisting his neck to look up into his mother's face, then back at his father. He began softly. 'An elf and a dwarf went a-journey in the Wilds of Middle-earth upon a time... d'you remember their names, now, beloved?'

'The elf was named Legolas,' Diamond said quietly.

Faramir nodded, still watching his father's face. 'That's right, beloved, and the dwarf was named Gimli. Now on this day they had walked and walked, and walked some more, and still there was more walking to be done, and the dwarf, of a wonder, began to greet and grumble...'

Reginard slipped from the room.

The Sun stayed later these summer evenings, and Regi took a pony from the stables and rode out to the fire break to talk to the watchers there. It had not yet rained, though he could smell the promise of it in the air. Smoke still rose from the burned land, and he stared at the blackened waste.

'We'll turn it over with the plough, when it's been thoroughly quenched,' one of the watchers said. ' 'Twill bloom even brighter next year. The burn will bring some good, for all the ill it's done us.'

Regi nodded. They talked a bit longer, then he raised a hand in farewell, and turned the pony down towards the bottoms.

He consulted with the foresters there, on plans for replanting where the trees had been burned out. 'It will take time,' one said, 'but trees will grow here again. Even if we did not replant, they would spring up. Trees were meant to grow along the stream.' They talked of harvesting charcoal from the burned wood, and ashes that could be used, in soap-making, for example. You took the good where you could find it, from the jaws of disaster if need be. No use sitting down and moaning over what could not be undone, you just figured out what could be done and you did it.

As the Sun was seeking her bed, Regi turned his pony back towards the Smials and sought his own.