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All That Glisters  by Lindelea


Chapter 42. Making Progress

Estella straightened and opened her eyes, and Elrohir released her and looked back to his charge. He stiffened and snapped out, ‘Estel!’

Elessar, in the midst of doing up all he’d undone, looked up, his hands freezing in place as he took in Elrohir’s expression.

Too much blood, Elrohir said. You must finish quickly. Elessar nodded, and his fingers, which had already moved swiftly to the watching hobbits’ eyes, now began to fly.

 ‘What is it?’ Estella said anxiously.

Elladan calmly met her gaze. ‘He’s chilled, and we need to get him warm, and pour in fluids to restore what he has lost.’ They didn’t need the hobbits to panic; Merry was in enough trouble as it was, from the look of things. He saw, now that his concentration had been yanked from the wound, the paleness of the hobbit’s skin, the rapid and uneven breathing, and he looked over the pooled blood with new understanding. It was not much, for a Man or Elf, but entirely too much for a being half their size.

Samwise felt another shudder go through Pippin as they watched the flurry of activity that followed Elrohir’s warning. He’d caught the word “blood” and little else, but he looked more closely and was sickeningly reminded of the failed attempt to free Frodo of the splinter from the Morgul blade. Elrond had been delving carefully, pushing by hair-breadths ever deeper, when Aragorn spoke in warning. There had been bare seconds of argument; to Sam’s amazement a look of frustration crossed Elrond’s brow before his face smoothed again and he slowly withdrew his hand, speaking soft words in the Elf-tongue.

 ‘Blood,’ Pippin whispered, yanking Sam back into the present moment. He was nearly as white as his cousin, and breathing as rapidly, as if he were the one who’d lost too much blood.

 ‘Steady,’ Sam said, stiffening his supporting arm. ‘You cannot faint now; you’ll distract them from their business.’

Pippin flashed him a glance, and Sam was relieved to see annoyance come into his eyes, lending him strength. ‘Who said anything about fainting?’ he whispered. ‘I am well.’

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead saying, ‘We ought to get you out of here.’

Pippin took hold of his arm with a surprisingly strong grip. ‘I am not leaving until I see that all is well with my cousin.’ 

 ‘All is as well as it may be,’ Sam said. ‘Look. Strider’s closing up the wound, and no more blood is adding to the pool.’ Unwise, on his part, to refer to that, for Pippin’s eyes moved to the floor and he shuddered before locking his gaze on his cousin’s face once more.

 ‘Done,’ Elessar said again, a note of finality in his tone. Two assistants stepped in to apply a dressing to the stitched wound, and then proceded to bind Merry's arm firmly to his side, while Elessar and Elladan moved to the fountain to scrub the blood from their hands. Elrohir hovered over Merry and as soon as the assistants finished he took up a blanket that had been warming, wrapped the blanket securely around the hobbit and lifted him in his arms.

 ‘We’ll tuck him up warm,’ Elrohir said, pausing a moment to allow Estella to get down from her vantage point. ‘And pour fluids into him.’

 ‘So your brother said,’ Estella replied. ‘How can I help him?’

 ‘You may stay by his side and hold his hand,’ Elrohir said as the two walked from the room. ‘I understand that such is an essential part of hobbit-healing...’

Elessar dried his hands and came to where Pippin sat, for the hobbit’s legs had folded under him as Merry was carried away.

 ‘I don’t like the sound of your breathing,’ the King said candidly, bending to examine Pippin.

 ‘There’s a lot of things I don’t like, myself, but I’m too polite to say anything,’ Pippin retorted, gasping.

 ‘Steady breaths, my friend,’ Elessar said.

 ‘What d’you think I’m trying to do,’ Pippin said in frustration.

 ‘Don’t try to talk,’ Elessar said.

 ‘Hah!’ was all Pippin could manage.

Sam snorted, and when the King looked to him he said, ‘It’s like telling the wind not to blow!’

Elessar lifted Pippin carefully. ‘You’re off to your bed,’ he said, ‘at least until you’re breathing properly once more.’

 ‘Put me down!’ Pippin said, resisting rather more feebly than he wished. A good sound kick, now, that was what was wanted...

 ‘Diamond has a balm...’ Sam put in helpfully.

 ‘Why yes,’ Elessar said. ‘I imagine it’s much the same as what I gave Frodo, to use on his young cousin should he have trouble breathing on the homeward journey. He still suffers some of the old trouble, I take it?’ Though he spoke lightly, he was grieved to think that the old injury from the troll still had its effect; though a man crushed under a troll likely would not have survived at all. We must take such blessings as come to us.

 ‘Some of the old trouble,’ Sam agreed. He wasn’t sure if Elessar was informed of Pippin’s near-fatal bout with the Old Gaffer’s Friend, for Pippin hated a fuss. It was all too likely he’d let Strider think, in previous visits to Gondor, that any trouble of his was due to the old injury and not the compounding damage done by illness.

 ‘You’re not going to disturb Diamond!’ Pippin said.

 ‘She’s rather expecting something of the sort,’ Strider responded, shifting his grip to better hold the wriggling hobbit. It would serve Pippin right to be dropped on his head, but...

 ‘Rather expecting?’ Pippin said in outrage. ‘What have you been telling her?’

 ‘Not what I told her, but rather what she told me,’ Elessar said calmly.

 ‘What she told you!’ Pippin sputtered.

 ‘Tea and gossip; you ought to feel right at home,’ Sam said smugly from where he trotted at the King’s side.

***

 ‘It’s... it’s... lovely!’ little Rob breathed. Jack’s boys lay well-concealed from patrolling guardsmen, gazing at the white towers of the new city by the Lake.

Will smiled and blinked away a tear, hearing an echo of his mother’s voice. She’d often exclaimed in just that way when presented with a frog or beetle or short-stemmed wildflower. He hugged Rob closer. ‘That it is, little brother,’ he said huskily.

 ‘Is it really to be our new home?’ Rob whispered.

Will tousled his head and said, ‘It is! Can you believe it?’

There was a rustling in the underbrush and Jack slipped into their hiding place. ‘Just as I’d hoped,’ he said. ‘There’s a row of shops fronting the market square, just gone up and ready for the shopkeepers! I’ve bought one near the greengrocer’s end of the row. Tonight we’ll sleep with a roof over our heads!’

 ‘A roof!’ Rob said in wonder, and frowned. ‘No more stars?’

 ‘Plenty of stars, and moon, where we’re going,’ Jack said. ‘And if not, well, we can always close up shop and take a tramp in the hills around the Lake, for old times’ sake.’ He drew Rob from Will’s embrace and settled the small boy on his lap as his face took on a serious expression.

 ‘What is it?’ Will said, hitching closer.

 ‘Now that we’re here, we’ve got to seize the future in a firm grasp,’ Jack said. ‘For one thing, we don’t know if the King’s Men will be looking for “Jack” and “Will” and a boy named “Rob”. We don’t know how much the little folk told the Rangers; surely the Thain would have made it his business to see us taken.’

Will nodded soberly. If it had been little Rob, taken by renegade Men, he’d have sworn revenge, for that was the way of things. He shivered, and Jack placed a comforting arm about his shoulders.

 ‘Now,’ Jack said, ‘Soon enough we’ll have new clothes, for that’ll be our first order of business in the City. But before that we’ll put on new names.’

 ‘New names?’ Rob said in wonder.

 ‘That’s right, lad. Now, tell me, is there a name you’d like to wear? One you always wished your folk had chosen?’

Rob shook his head. ‘I’ve always been “Rob”,’ he said in confusion.

 ‘Will’s easy enough,’ Jack said cheerily. ‘We’ll just change the name a little, so you still come when you’re called. I was thinking...’

 ‘But what are we to call you?’ Rob blurted.

Jack was abruptly sober. ‘Well now,’ he said, treading delicately. ‘I’ve been giving that some thought. We’d garner fewer odd looks and speculations if you lads clearly belonged to me. I know I’m not your father, but...’

 ‘You’ve been as good as a father to us, these past months,’ Will said stoutly.

Rob nodded. He scarcely remembered his own father, a laughing giant who’d throw him into the air and catch him again. Jack hadn’t done anything of the sort, but he’d taken the boys with him and fed them and clothed them and held Rob close when nightmares came...

Jack looked directly into Rob’s eyes. ‘If you could make believe I’m your father,’ he said, ‘things would look better in the eyes of our neighbours.’

Rob threw his arms around Jack and he hugged tight. ‘You can be my father,’ he said, ‘if it’s all right with Will, that is.’

Will hesitated a moment, then nodded. ‘I’ll never forget my own father,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think he’d be dishonoured if we took you on.’

 ‘Then I’ll be “Father” to you,’ Jack said, hugging both boys close, and blinking away moisture that seemed to surprise him by its advent.

 ‘And we’ll be your sons,’ Rob said in delight. He liked this new game!

 ‘We’ll be your sons,’ Will said more softly, but he nodded and his arm pressed against Jack’s back as he returned the embrace, fatherless no longer.





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