Chapter 4. Sometimes I Take a Great Notion

Inch by agonising inch, Pippin worked his way along the broken railing, shutting out all other thoughts but the next hand-hold. So fiercely was he concentrating, in fact, that he when he kicked something soft it didn’t register on him until he trod fully upon something that yielded underfoot.

Fighting the current he brought his feet down onto the submerged remains of the bridge, down onto... his breath came even shorter as he realised what it meant. Ferdi! Ferdibrand was caught in the wreckage of the bridge, trapped underwater!

Wrapping his legs around the lower railing, Pippin released the upper railing and dove under water, fumbling to orient himself with the unseen body below the churning water, until he was able to grasp Ferdi under his arms and haul him upright. He gasped as his face broke the surface, the muscles of his abdomen tight with effort, his legs straining to push him upright. He hazarded his weight against the bridge railings... and they held! He was only a few steps from safety, now.

Pulling at Ferdi and pushing with his feet, he got his cousin’s head above water—barely. Though Ferdi was limp and unresponsive—a gash on his forehead, just above his eye, bled freely, silent testimony to the blow he’d received as the bridge collapsed around him—still he resisted Pippin’s efforts. Ferdi was trapped, held fast in the wreckage.

Pippin could not tell if his cousin was breathing. Once more he blessed Gimli and his dwarf-breathing, used by the Dwarves in their delving when a ceiling came down and those rescued were alive but breathless when found. Sometimes the dwarf-breathing revived them, sometimes it did not. In any event, Gimli had used the technique to revive Pippin after hauling the Troll-carcase off him before the Black Gate, and at Pippin’s insistence had later taught him the skill.

He pinched Ferdi’s nose closed and blew hard into his cousin’s mouth. Once, twice, a third time, until his cousin coughed and spluttered and struggled in his arms.

 ‘Steady, Ferdi,’ Pippin said, raising his voice above the roar of the water.

 ‘Pippin?’ Ferdi said, turning his head from side to side and looking wildly about. ‘Pippin, is it you?’

 ‘What’re you about, you fool of a Took?’ Pippin said, gripping his cousin tighter. ‘Of course! Who else would it be?’

 ‘Can’t... cannot see,’ Ferdi gasped. ‘How long have we been in the water? Is it night already?’

 ‘Ye daft coney...’ Pippin began, but his voice trailed off as he realised the implications. ‘You’ve hit your head, Ferdi, and you’re not seeing as you ought. Happened to me, once. I ran into the side of the byre when Merry was chasing me and when I woke up I couldn’t see from one eye for some hours. It’ll clear.’

 ‘Clear,’ Ferdi echoed. He was breathing raggedly, but at least he was breathing.

 ‘Come now, no time for chit chat,’ Pippin said briskly. ‘We’ve got to get you out of here.’

 ‘Haldi?’ Ferdi said, lifting one arm feebly, fumbling, finding Pippin’s arm and grasping it weakly.

 ‘Gone... for help,’ Pippin said, but his cousin shook his head.

 ‘Don’t lie to me,’ Ferdi said between his teeth. ‘The first word was truth.’

 ‘Aye,’ Pippin said, and had he not been holding his cousin’s head above water he’d have let his shoulders slump. ‘I only meant to give you comfort.’

Ferdi’s answer was a snort. ‘Lies are no comfort,’ he said. ‘Makes it all the more difficult to trust you, Pip, and I promised my sister I’d work at it.’

Pippin was surprised to hear this candour, but then Ferdi was suffering a lessening of his faculties, what with the blow to his head.

 ‘I’m a slippery sort, ‘tis true,’ he said lightly, ‘but I’ll do my best for you, cousin.’ He shifted his grip. ‘Let’s start with getting ourselves out of here.’

 ‘I’m game,’ Ferdi said agreeably. ‘Lead on, O Took.’

 ‘Bandobras I am not,’ Pippin said, ‘but I’ll do my best, as I just said. ‘Twould be nice if you’d offer a little help.’

 ‘What would you have me do?’ Ferdi said, as if they discussed a topic of remote interest. He was shivering from the cold of the water—mercy, but Pippin was shivering too!—and his words slurred as if it took more than he had in him just to speak them.

 ‘Push with your feet, Ferdi. I cannot pull you free,’ Pippin said.

 ‘Can you, now?’ Ferdi murmured.

 ‘I cannot,’ Pippin maintained, shifting his grip and pulling briefly. ‘Push with your feet, Ferdi; brace them against the bottom of the bridge.’

He was heartened to see a look of concentration upon his cousin’s face, and he put forth a steady effort, pulling, until he felt Ferdi relax in his grasp once more.

 ‘We have a problem,’ Ferdi said, lifting his other arm until he could grasp the front of Pippin’s coat.

 ‘What, only one?’ 

 ‘There is no bottom under my feet,’ Ferdi said. ‘I seem to have fallen through or somewhat.’ He let go with one hand, letting it fall into the water, seeking... seeking... and finding purchase. His face twisted, and Pippin realised he was pushing against his bonds.

 ‘Wait, Ferdi,’ he said. ‘Hold tight to me a moment.’ He reached under the water to bring up Ferdi’s hand, placed it on his shoulder and gave it a firm push to indicate it should stay there. ‘Hold fast.’

He ducked under the water, feeling his way down Ferdi’s body, coming up against the boards of the bridge. Aye, Ferdibrand had fallen right through, and was caught about the waist. Pippin tried to haul him free, feeling Ferdi’s hands clutch at him convulsively. At last he had to surface again, to gulp air.

 ‘Did ye not hear me yell to stop?’ Ferdi gasped.

 ‘I was under the water,’ Pippin said apologetically. ‘What is it?’

 ‘Thought you’d chop me in two, from the way it felt,’ Ferdi said, and grunted. ‘It’s pressing something horrid, against my middle.’

 ‘All right, we’ll try pulling you free from here,’ Pippin said stubbornly. He crouched to set his feet once more in the supports of the bridge, took as deep a breath as he could manage, and pushed.

Ferdi cried out, a terrible cry, and Pippin ceased at once. ‘Ferdi?’ he asked anxiously.

Ferdi was panting for breath, and worse, his chin was very close to the water. ‘Don’t,’ he begged breathlessly. ‘Don’t...’

 ‘The bridge is settling,’ Pippin said absently as his thoughts raced. ‘Steady, Ferdi,’ he added as Ferdi’s hands clenched tight in the fabric of his coat.

 ‘Please,’ the trapped Took groaned, even as it wasn’t certain what he was pleading for. To be released from the wreckage? For Pippin to cease his efforts, which were driving the bridge deeper into the stream as well as costing such pain? Both, more than likely, or neither—as his next words made clear.

 ‘You’ve got to get out of here,’ Ferdi panted. ‘The bridge is settling... water’s so cold... you’ve got to get out.’

 ‘I won’t leave you,’ Pippin said. ‘I’m going to get you out of here.’

 ‘How?’ Ferdi said. ‘Rope? Axe, perhaps? The bridge is settling, and taking me with it. You’ve got to save yourself, Pip.’

 ‘If you go, I’ll go,’ Pippin said, grimly determined.

Ferdi protested, but Pippin refused to hear, and the ring of truth was in his voice.

He gave another half-hearted pull, but Ferdi groaned so piteously that he desisted.

 ‘Please,’ Ferdi said, and Pippin nodded and hugged him gently, sharing what hobbity comfort he could. He didn’t know what they were going to do. More than likely they’d die here together, unless some other traveller came along sooner than later.

***

Pippin was half in a dream, his face resting on Ferdi’s shoulder, when the shout roused him. He jerked upright and turned. A broad grin broke out on his face. ‘Haldi!’ he shouted. ‘Haldi, you ne’er-do-well, you don’t know how glad I am to see you! You’re a sight for sore eyes, you are!’

The escort, looking much the worse for wear, was standing at the edge of the bridge, having just slid from his battered pony’s back. Both looked like something the cat might have dragged in on a rainy night.

 ‘Are you trapped?’ he called back. ‘Can you win free?’

 Pippin raised his voice. ‘I can, but Ferdi’s well-stuck! Perhaps the two of us can pull him out!’

Haldegrim nodded, grabbed the intact railing and pulled himself into the water, reaching Pippin quickly.

The Thain explained Ferdi’s predicament. Haldi took a lungful of air and dove beneath the water, gripping the railing with his legs as Pippin had earlier.

Ferdi moaned and thrashed in Pippin’s grasp, and then Haldi broke the surface, grabbing at the railing to catch his balance against the pull of the current. ‘Need an axe, I think,’ he gasped. ‘We’ll cut him in twain if we try to pull him out, I think. The boards are pressing into him.’

 ‘I could have told you that,’ Ferdi said weakly.

 ‘There’s a woodcutter’s family half-way to the stone bridge,’ Haldi said. ‘I’ll hold his head above water while you ride for help.’

 ‘No,’ Pippin said. ‘I won’t leave him, Haldi. I made him a promise that I’d see him through. You go. You know better where to find this woodcutter, any road, I suspect. I never noticed such, going along this track.’

 ‘It’s a little ways off the track,’ Haldi admitted. He wanted to protest, to insist that Pippin get himself out of this icy stream, but likely the damage was already done. The Thain was wet to the skin, and the sooner he brought woodcutters and axes the sooner Pippin would be in dry clothes warming himself by a roaring fire. ‘I’ll make all the haste I can.

 ‘Hold fast, Ferdi,’ he added, gripping his cousin by the shoulder.

 ‘Don’t have to,’ Ferdi mumbled. ‘Bridge is doing that already.’

Haldi pulled himself along the railing to dry land, but he didn’t mount immediately. He found a tree with suckers growing around the base and pulled one of these slender growths, hefting it in his gloved hand. Yes, that ought to do—strong, but flexible, and sure to sting even through shaggy pony hide.

He hauled himself onto the pony’s back, bruised and battered as he was by the force of the water and debris that had tried to drown him, turned the pony’s head to the trail, and brought his improvised whip down hard with a resounding smack.

The pony jumped at this treatment and broke into a lumbering trot. Another smack resulted in a clumsy gallop, and the escort was soon out of sight.

 ‘Not much longer, Ferdi,’ Pippin said.

 ‘Not... much... longer,’ Ferdi responded in apparent agreement, but Pippin realised to his horror, when he looked down, that the bridge was continuing to settle. Ferdi’s chin was under water, even though Pippin could see the cords tight in his neck as he strained to lift his mouth higher.

With a flash of inspiration, Pippin bent to his cousin. ‘You remember the dwarf-breathing, Ferdi?’ he said urgently.

 ‘Dwarf-breathing,’ Ferdi gasped. ‘You mean, after I drown you’ll bring me back?’

 ‘No time,’ Pippin said, impatient. No matter how quickly Haldi returned with the woodcutters, he’d be too late. ‘No, but the bridge is sinking.’

 ‘I know,’ Ferdi said. ‘Give my love to Nell.’ He set his lips in a tight line and Pippin could see his throat working as he swallowed hard.

 ‘No, Ferdi,’ he said, ‘but I can keep you breathing. Here is what we’ll do.’ Quickly he outlined his plan.

 ‘You’re mad,’ Ferdi said. The water had nearly reached his bottom lip, and a wave slapped his face, causing him to gag and swallow water.

 ‘I’m desperate,’ Pippin said truthfully.

 ‘Same thing,’ Ferdi managed to gasp. ‘It’ll never work,’ he added, a sick expression on his face. ‘Don’t be a fool—save yourself when I’m gone...’

 ‘I won’t leave you,’ Pippin said stubbornly. ‘It will work, Ferdi, it has to! Hold your breath when you go under... when you feel me touch your face, exhale, and then I’ll blow air into you and raise my head to take in more air.’

 ‘You take in barely enough for yourself as it is,’ Ferdi protested, but then he had to close his mouth as he sank further, taking a last desperate breath through his flaring nostrils.

Pippin pinched Ferdi’s nose between his fingers and pushed his face down in the water, blowing air into Ferdi’s mouth.

He raised his head above the water, scanning for signs of Haldi and the woodcutters though surely it was too early to hope. After taking two quick breaths he touched Ferdi’s cheek with his free hand. He saw Ferdi’s breath emerge as bubbles, and dropping his mouth down on his cousin's, blew once more.

Two breaths, blow. Two breaths, blow. Hurry, Haldi.