Chapter 5. I'll Love Her ‘til the Seas Run Dry

All was darkness and flowing silence. Ferdibrand’s world contracted to a touch on the cheek, a measured breath, and waiting... His only anchor to the world was Pippin’s firm grip on his nose, which struck him as desperately funny, but should he laugh he would be lost.

Ironic, that it should all come down to this. He’d never felt so helpless before in his life.

Too much time to think. He found himself entertaining fancies—his life was a smial, delved under the ground, warm, safe, secure. But one by one the supports bracing the ceiling had fallen away, one by one, mother, father, uncle, sister, master, beloved, cousin, friend... leaving him, alone, holding off the weight of earth. And now he could not even help himself.

Too much time to think, and to see his life pass before his eyes. He’d heard about this happening, in the last moments of life, but had dismissed the idea with all its impracticalities.

Now he saw himself as a lad, riding on a laughing hobbit’s shoulders. His uncle—! Tears sprang to his eyes, immediately washed away in the cool rush surrounding him, leaving only a sting behind. His father’s laughter boomed in his ears, and his mother’s voice raised in song.

The stables, outlined in flames, fell in upon father and uncle, and his mother seized him and shoved him into the stream, screaming that she must save him... and then her voice was stilled, swept away in the never-ceasing current. His sister held fast to his hand as he sat in stunned silence, and then she too abandoned him, running away to escape an unwanted marriage.

Thain Paladin had been a rock, and Ferdi had taken the oath to serve him with complete confidence. The Thain was hard, but fair, and unwavering in his determination to keep Tookland, even in the face of ruffians twice his size and an ever-growing menace on his borders. They had cast out the ruffians, in the end, or rather, with the help of the Tooks, Merry had, and Pippin. Pippin...

His beloved... Nell... smiled at him, and then she was gone, married off to advantage by her father, who thought more of the Tookland than the individual hobbits that made up the land. Pippin...

One by one the supports around him fell, but he braced his feet and pushed all the harder. He was strong. He would not be crushed.

Thain Paladin had been a rock, a great boulder indeed, and when he’d turned on Ferdi it had been as if the hillside had fallen on him, to bury him in silence. And all for something Pippin had done. Pippin...

Pippin had always been a tricksy one, from the time the little charmer could put two words together. He’d instigate mischief and yet somehow it was always someone else taking the blame, someone who should have known better, Merry, or Ferdi, or Nell. Ferdi had loved his younger cousin, but he’d never quite trusted him. And Pippin had repaid that trust, or lack of it. Ah, Irony!

But it wasn’t Pip’s fault, Ferdi argued with himself. You know you were set to watch him. You were his escort. It was your duty! You knew that he chafed under his father’s restrictions. You should never have let him trick you that way; slip his bonds, slip his responsibilities, slip his escort, ride off into that ice storm and nearly perish. Yours was the fault!

And now his entire life depended upon this cousin who had put convenience ahead of duty too many times for Ferdi’s comfort. He waited for another breath.

Duty... but Pip had followed Frodo Baggins, followed him loyally, into dark horrors the extent of which not even those closest to him in these latter days could fathom. He had served a foreign lord and fought for him. He now served the returned King.

Ferdi pondered this paradox, the slippery cousin he’d known and not trusted, and the Thain he knew now, who’d sworn an oath of loyalty to those who served him. Pippin...

Just a few months ago, Pippin’s son had run away, and Ferdibrand had tried to retrieve the situation. A great misunderstanding had resulted, and Ferdi had been accused of stealing Pippin’s son, stealing...! The ceiling had very nearly fallen in on him then, but somehow he’d stood through it all, holding off destruction, and Pippin had got down on his knees to swear an oath, to seek a new beginning. Pippin...

Pippin, whose damaged lungs surely could not sustain this sort of strain. Pippin, the finest Thain the Shire had known in over an hundred years, or so everyone said, Ferdi included. Pippin, on whom Ferdi’s life now rested, whose own life was imperilled thereby.

Ferdi knew then, what he must do. With the next breath to come, he must immediately let it out again, and force himself to breathe in the water surrounding him. If he drowned, surely Pippin would leave him and seek his own safety. He’d shown no signs of leaving up until this point. Breath followed breath.

Trust was a matter of... what? A matter of faith? Life had taught Ferdibrand that you couldn’t trust anyone, not really. You could only trust yourself, in the end. Could he trust himself?

He knew what he must do, but as breath followed breath he could not summon enough courage to overcome instinct. His beloved Nell rose before his eyes, pleading. Pleading for what? Pleading for him to sustain the fight? Pleading for him to give it up, to sacrifice himself for her brother’s sake? Yes, that must be it. For if things were to go on as they were going, both Ferdi and Pippin would drown.

How he loved his Nell. Though it grieved him more than he could bear, he strengthened his resolve to leave her now, to save her brother, the only way he could.

Another touch on the cheek, another breath, and then suddenly Pippin’s hand was gone from Ferdi’s nose. He had just about made up his mind to force out the next breath and drown himself, but now, with Pippin abandoning him at last, perversely he held his last breath until stars began to dance before his darkened eyes.

***

The bridge continued to sink slowly beneath them, settling into the mud, and it grew more difficult to continue his life-saving effort. Pippin had to stretch, now, to thrust his head above water for air, and then down into the stream, down to find Ferdi’s face. He was tiring, and the whole ordeal was taking on a dreamlike—no, nightmarish quality, one of those dreams from which you wish you could waken but goes on and on without hope of surcease.

He must not stop.

Two breaths. Blow. Two breaths. Blow.

Though he’d looked up the trail each time he raised his head, he must have stopped seeing, for suddenly Haldi was there, seizing his shoulder, shouting his name as if previous efforts to gain Pippin’s attention had failed.

 ‘Can’t stop,’ Pippin gasped. ‘Ferdi.’ Duck under the water. Blow.

He sensed rather than saw Haldi ducking under with him, and then they were at the surface again. ‘Right,’ Haldi said, and released Pippin’s shoulder, turning to shout something at the bank.

No time to look. Duck under the water. Blow.

Hobbits were splashing into the water, surrounding him. Tooks in a river! Merry ought to see such a sight! Only the most desperate of necessities would force them into such.

Two breaths. Blow. Two breaths. Blow.

They were working around him, and he rather got the feeling that he was in their way. No matter. Two breaths. Blow.

And then suddenly Haldi was there again, shouting meaningless noise into his ear, pulling at him, pulling him away. He resisted as best he could. Two breaths. Blow.

More hands, pulling at him. He fought, but he was exhausted and they were stronger. He kicked and shouted, weakly, but they pulled him away, and then he knew it was too late... too late... even if he won his way back into the water it was too late.

They laid him down upon a blanket and began to strip off his sopping clothes as he wept, and then they forced warm, dry clothing on him and wrapped him in more blankets, and then Haldegrim was at his side again, speaking urgently, finally taking Pippin’s face between his hands.

 ‘Pippin. All’s well. All’s well, cousin.’

 ‘I left him,’ Pippin sobbed. ‘I left him. I promised him.’

 ‘Pippin,’ Haldi said again, and he forced Pippin’s face to the side. ‘Look, all’s well! We got Ferdi out in time. Look!’

Pippin looked, and there beside him, wrapped in blankets, Ferdi lay. A small fire burned just beyond him, and a healer was pouring steaming water into cups, preparatory to forcing some sort of nasty draught into the shivering hobbits pulled from the stream.

 ‘Ferdi,’ Pippin breathed.

 ‘That’s right,’ Haldi said stoutly, taking his hands away from Pippin’s face. ‘All’s well.’