Chapter 32. Sweet Draughts and Savoury Biscuits

Woodruff stood frozen a moment, then leapt to open the door, the others directly behind her. ‘Nell, no!’ she said urgently, but Pimpernel already held the flask to Ferdi’s lips, and from the tilt it appeared he’d drained the contents.

Despite the desperate situation, Hilly fought a grin. How well he remembered that taste, and the temptation to guzzle the draught; never had he tasted anything the like.

Ferdi was smiling as Nell took the flask away and turned to face the healers, defiance plain in every line. ‘It helped Hilly,’ she said. ‘It helped...’ Ferdi plucked at her sleeve and she broke off, to bend close as he whispered. She listened, then kissed him tenderly on the cheek and rose again, her eyes full of tears and a half-smile on her lips. ‘He says it tastes like golden sunshine,’ she said, ‘and that you’ve finally got something right, Woodruff.’

Fennel had entered the apartments with a laden tray just as Woodruff called her warning. Hastily putting the tray down, he followed the others into the bedroom and moved to Ferdi’s other side, taking up one limp and ashen hand, his fingers seeking the pulse of life, his eyes glued to the labouring chest. The heartbeats fluttered weakly, as if a wild bird struggled to free itself; the breaths were as rapid and shallow as they had been before he’d left to fetch a meal for Woodruff, who would not leave Pimpernel until all was done.

 ‘Well?’ Woodruff demanded, though as a healer she knew better.

 ‘Give it time,’ Hilly murmured. He’d had time to nibble at a journey-wafer, after all, before the dose had worked.

 ‘Time,’ Woodruff muttered, her face bleak. Giving a sleeping draught to Ferdi, in his condition, had cut his time short, and Nell’s with it. They’d see, soon enough, that two deaths would result from this foolishness. The thought niggled at the back of her mind that two deaths would result, regardless, but she thrust it away. There had always been the hope that Ferdi would rally, would fight off the encroaching illness, but Pimpernel’s actions left no hope now. The draught would depress Ferdi’s already distressed breathing, and he’d lay down the fight. It was little comfort to know he’d slip away peacefully.

There was no sound in the little room, save Ferdi’s struggle for breath, for a time that seemed to stretch to eternity. Fennel broke the silence. ‘Slowing,’ he said, concentrating fiercely on his task. He looked up and away from the breaths he counted. ‘His heart is slowing,’ he said sadly, but then a look of confusion bloomed. ‘Slowing,’ he whispered, ‘and... growing stronger?’

 ‘Let me see,’ Woodruff demanded, moving to his side. He gave up the wrist to the head healer, and she closed her eyes to concentrate. The faint, fluttering heartbeats she’d felt not long before Hilly and Mardi arrived had grown stronger, and slower, as if the draught somehow brought strength to her patient instead of robbing him of his life. She opened her eyes to count breaths, and the breathing, too, was slowing.

 ‘Weary, my love,’ Ferdi whispered, heard clearly in the silence of the room. ‘So wearied.’ Nell bent to kiss him once more, laying a hand upon his cheek. He leaned into her touch, nestling like a child, and sighed. ‘Sing me to sleep?’

Pimpernel blinked away her tears and sank down on the bed, her palm still cupping Ferdi’s cheek; so hot he was, burning hot and yet pale as death. At least the draught had brought him a peaceful end; no more painful struggle. Softly she began to sing.

The wind walks wild o’er the darkling world;
‘Tis time to seek my resting place.
The trees their banners of leaves unfurled
Are waving their farewells.

I’ve wandered far from my familiar home
My hidey-hole where my true love waits.
Forgetting the reasons I e’er sought to roam,
No more will my straying feet lead me away.

Tuck me up ‘neath the wide-spreading tree;
Spread a blanket of wildflowers to keep.
Clouds and sky to fill up my eye,
As the wind sings me to my sleep.  

 ‘He’s sleeping,’ Woodruff said in wonder.

Nell gulped back a sob and laid a kiss on Ferdi’s sweat-dampened forehead. ‘Goodbye, my love,’ she whispered, and laid her head upon her beloved’s breast.

 ‘No!’ Woodruff hissed, laying Ferdi’s hand down once more. ‘His heart is stronger; he’s breathing more deeply than the pain would allow him before. It’s as if the draught has given him strength along with rest, and the pain of the broken rib no longer impedes his breath.’

 ‘What are you saying?’ Nell said numbly. She was weary, herself, from sitting up with Ferdi through the previous night, watching the illness take him ever deeper, ever farther from her.

Mardi had stepped to Woodruff’s side. He took up Ferdi’s wrist and nodded. ‘Not what I’d expect,’ he said.

 ‘He’s resting for the first time since the coughing fit took him at teatime yesterday,’ Woodruff said in wonder. ‘It’s as if he’s not bothered by the pain of the broken rib any more.’

 ‘Resting and gathering strength,’ Fennel marvelled. ‘Just as you said, Hilly.’

Woodruff turned to the escort. ‘How long?’ she said.

 ‘How long?’ Hilly echoed stupidly.

 ‘How long with this last?’ Woodruff said. She was thinking of Nell, who’d refused all food and drink since they’d moved Ferdi to his own bed to die.

 ‘How much did he take?’ Hilly said. ‘I had but a mouthful and slept for two days.’

 ‘Flask’s empty,’ Fennel said, picking up the flask from where Pimpernel had dropped it, and shaking it. ‘How much was in it?’

 ‘I don’t know,’ Hilly said.

Woodruff touched Pimpernel on the cheek; Ferdi’s wife had closed her eyes, her head still resting on his breast, his heartbeat sounding reassuring in her ear. ‘Nell,’ she said gently.

Pimpernel’s eyes opened. ‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘He’s still with us.’ Her fingers twitched against Ferdi’s cheek; her other arm tightened about him.

 ‘How much did he drink?’ Woodruff asked, bending close.

Pimpernel shook her head against Ferdi’s chest. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘He drank all there was, and asked for more.’

 ‘Hilly?’ Woodruff said, rising and turning. ‘Mardi?’

 ‘We didn’t measure what was in the flask,’ Mardi said. ‘I tasted it, only, to try to see what it was. Hilly?’

The escort found all eyes pinned to him (save Ferdi’s and Nell’s). ‘I...’ he said uncertainly.

 ‘How much was in the flask?’ Woodruff demanded.

 ‘I haven’t the faintest,’ Hilly said helplessly. ‘It wasn’t full, but there was more than a swallow left...’

 ‘Half full?’ Woodruff pressed. All Hilly could do was shrug in response. The healers exchanged glances, and Fennel put a gentle hand on Nell’s shoulder.

 ‘Nell,’ he said, and when she didn’t respond he shook her gently. ‘Nell,’ he said again.

 ‘I’m here,’ Pimpernel murmured, though she did not open her eyes.

 ‘Nell,’ Fennel said more insistently. ‘Ferdi’s sleeping now, a healing sleep. You won’t be losing him this night.’

Woodruff shot him an acid look and he frowned in return before bending to Pimpernel again, consciously putting a smile on his face, that she might hear a smile in his voice. ‘Nell,’ he said. ‘Come away. I’ve just brought a tray of eventides, and I want you to eat up every morsel before you sit with Ferdi through the night.’

 ‘But what if...?’ Nell said, raising her head to look dazedly at him. ‘What if...?’

 ‘It’s a healing sleep,’ Fennel said firmly. ‘We’ll keep watch, but all is well, Nell.’ He certainly hoped he spoke truth. Mardi, behind Woodruff, was grim, and Woodruff was grimmer. Things did not bode well for Woodruff’s assistant, should it turn out that all was not well. Still Fennel maintained his cheerful mien. ‘Come, eat,’ he urged. ‘You’ve got to keep up your strength if you’re to sit with Ferdi through another night.’

 ‘Until the dawning?’ Nell murmured. She leaned to lay another kiss upon Ferdi’s brow and gasped. ‘He’s cooler,’ she said.

Woodruff laid the back of her hand on Ferdi’s cold, damp brow. ‘The fever’s broken,’ she whispered. ‘How...?’ She exchanged glances with the other healers. ‘Fennel,’ she said. ‘I want you to stopper the flask, conserve whatever drops might be left, and leave the flask upon my desk; I’ll want to examine it later.’

 ‘Yes’m,’ Fennel said, taking his hand from Nell’s shoulder to fit the hanging stopper into place.

 ‘Come, Nell,’ Woodruff said firmly, putting her hands on Pimpernel’s arms to urge her upright. ‘I want you to make a good meal before you take up your watch once more.’

 ‘Ferdi?’ Nell said, not letting herself be pulled away so easily.

 ‘I’ll watch with him for as long as you’re eating,’ Fennel said, ‘and call you if there’s any change at all. Though I doubt there will be,’ he added. ‘He’s sleeping, and it’s a healing sleep...’ not like anything I’ve ever seen! ‘...and I doubt he’ll waken for several days.’

Nell stroked her beloved’s cheek once more and eased her hand away, allowing herself to be escorted to the sitting room where Woodruff’s tray waited. Woodruff sat her down and made sure that she ate every scrap of food; after all, there was plenty more where that came from, and the healer’s appetite had been quite taken away by events. She itched to know what was in the wondrous draught, and whence it had come.

Such would have to wait, however, for while she was occupied with Pimpernel, Mardibold had spirited his youngest brother from the room, and out of the Great Smials, and sent Telebold to fetch Posey, and by the time Pimpernel had finished Woodruff’s eventides and taken up her post once more at Ferdi’s side, Hilly, Posey and Mardi were polishing off the last sandwich on the tray in Mardi’s study, while Mardi’s daughter Lili brewed them a fresh pot of tea.

***

Part way to the Lake, the King’s party made camp for the night. ‘Why does food eaten out-of-doors taste so much better somehow?’ Diamond said, gnawing on a bone as she never would at home.

 ‘Fresh air, perhaps,’ Pippin replied, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He’d eaten more at this one meal than he did in a full and busy day at the Great Smials. The waning Moon smiled down from above the treetops and he gave an answering wink. ‘The exercise of the long ride, coupled with...’

 ‘Exercise!’ Estella said, selecting from a tray of biscuits and cheese just perfect for “filling up the corners”. ‘The guardsmen ought to eat a deal more, considering they’re marching whilst we’re riding.’

 ‘At that the ponies ought to eat a deal more,’ Pippin laughed.

 ‘They do,’ Sam said. ‘Mine was snatching mouthfuls at every pause, and is feasting greedily upon the long grass as we speak.’

 ‘Does the grass grow as long and green in Rohan?’ Merry-lad Gamgee piped. ‘Where my pony is?’

Merry Brandybuck laughed and tousled the lad’s hair. He’d promised to bring a pony back from next year’s visit to Rohan. ‘Just as long and just as green,’ he said. ‘Why, your pony is as fat and jolly as any Shire pony, and twice as fast as most.’

 ‘Hoorah!’ the lad shouted.

 ‘Merry-lad,’ his mother said warningly, and he subsided.

 ‘How long until Hilly and his beloved arrive, do you think?’ Merry said.

 ‘If Posey’s anything like Diamond,’ Pippin replied with a gleam in his eye, ‘she’ll take a week just for the packing up! You’ll have had your sleeping draught and awakened already by the time Bergil brings them to the Lake!’

 ‘Pippin,’ Diamond protested.

 ‘A week!’ Merry said.

 ‘Aye, she’ll be ready that quickly,’ Pippin said. ‘After all, she’ll be packing only for herself and not a whole family.’

Diamond threw a biscuit at him and he dodged aside. As a result the biscuit struck Samwise. ‘You...!’ she said to her husband.

 ‘Here now,’ Pippin said, ‘none of that! Don’t go assaulting the good Mayor!’ He popped a piece of cheese into his mouth and said around his munching, ‘After all, my wife was ready to journey in record time.’

 ‘Record time?’ Merry said with interest.

 ‘Aye. Took her only a month of packing for this trip,’ Pippin said serenely. He opened his mouth wide as Diamond chucked another biscuit at him, catching it neatly. ‘Mmm,’ he said. ‘Strider’s cooks have a marvellous touch. These savoury biscuits are light and flaky and just the right complement to the cheese.’