Chapter 9. Tea and Gossip

Merimac retraced his steps several times until it was difficult to tell just how many hobbits had walked that way, hanging the lamp back on its bracket as he entered the main corridor once more. He remembered the way to the infirmary; hadn’t he spent a week there, on one visit to the Great Smials? Granted, it was a long time ago, and that place of residence for seriously-ill Tooks, or those needing extra care, being infirm or invalids, had been moved in the meantime. As was traditional in all the great holes, the Great Smials infirmary had enjoyed the sunniest exposure, but during the Troubles had been moved to the innermost part of the Smials, in the event of attack by the ruffians. Merimac hadn’t heard, but he assumed that by now the healers and their charges would be moved back where they ought to be.

He was mistaken, however. The sunny exposure had been turned into apartments and parlours, common rooms and suites, and from the look of it the most well-to-do amongst the Smials Tooks enjoyed these—undoubtedly at no little profit to the Thain from what Merimac had heard of Paladin's grasping ways. He shook his head as he walked, regarding the rich furnishings glimpsed through partly-open doors.

To be honest, Thain Paladin was stranger to him, a far cry from the youthful farm-lad he’d come to know, all those years ago when he’d tried to catch Esmeralda’s eye... and lost her to his brother. The Thain was another hobbit completely, compared to the quiet but contented farmer Merimac had known in the time before old, mad Bilbo disappeared for good with a chuckle and a flash from the infamous Birthday Party. Indeed, though his friends had seen the gradual change in Paladin as Pippin grew more spoilt, more difficult, and more of a liability than an asset first to the farmer and then the newly-made Thain, the change had accelerated after the office of Thain descended upon Paladin with smothering suddenness. His old friend might as well have died, so far as Merimac was concerned. How was it that Saradoc remained ever true to himself after becoming Master, but Paladin had lost himself as Thain?

He turned his steps back to the inmost part of the Smials, where he’d visited badly-injured Ferdibrand after the Battle of Bywater. Another old friend, Ferdi’s father, had resided in the Great Smials infirmary for years—since the year of Bilbo’s infamous Birthday, in point of fact, though Merimac had never been allowed to see him after the disastrous fire that nearly claimed his life. Ferdinand steadfastly turned away all visitors over the years. Somehow Merimac would have to get past his old friend’s stubborn resistance, if he’d understood Everard correctly, to learn more of young Ferdi’s plight.

He found the infirmary tucked away into a dark and quiet part of the Smials, where it had remained hidden away since the time of the Troubles. Night-lamps had already been lit, and the large sitting room was silent and shadowy, the fire on the hearth banked. Merimac hesitated on the threshold. Ought he to reconsider his plan to leave after early breakfast, stay over long enough to try and see Ferdinand in the morning?

 ‘May I help you?’ a voice said, low and pleasant, from the far doorway. ‘Were you needing a healer?’

 ‘In point of fact,’ Merimac began, and paused, at a loss. He’d had this conversation too many times before, asking to see Ferdinand, being asked to wait, only to be put off in the end. No visitors. Surely you understand.

 ‘Yes?’ the voice said, the bulk of a shadowy figure coming forward, resolving by the light of the corridor lamps into a pleasant hobbit matron, undoubtedly an assistant to the healers. She had a kind smile but penetrating gaze, and Merimac thought she’d brook no nonsense. Very well, he thought to himself, taking a deep breath and encountering a sudden constriction in his chest, dread, perhaps, or defeat before the battle was engaged.

 ‘I...’ he said, and she waited. ‘I came to speak with Ferdinand...’ he said, seeing the instant denial that sprang to her eyes, but before she could voice the thought he continued in a near-whisper, ‘...about his son.’

It was her turn to take a breath, to gaze intently into his face, and then to say, pasting on a bright smile, ‘It’s late to be making a visit, but Ferdinand has been sitting up late the last few nights... I’m sure he’d welcome some company.’

Wondering, Merimac followed her through the darkened sitting room and down a broad corridor, wide enough for a wheeled chair the likes of the one Lalia the Fat had used, lit by turned-down lamps. Pausing at one of the slightly-ajar doors, she tapped softly and eased the door open wider.

One of the watchers by the bed rose hastily, damp cloth dangling from her hand. ‘Hullo?’ she said uncertainly, her eyes going from the matron to the visitor.

Ferdinand looked as if he belonged in the bed rather than in a watcher’s chair, with his pinned-up sleeves and blanket-covered legs, but instead he was tied in the chair so that he could shift his weight without falling. He raised his face, one side ravaged by old fire-scars, the other strangely unmarked, and frowned with the working side of his mouth. ‘What...?’ he said. The figure in the bed moved uneasily at his tone and he broke off at once to whisper reassurances while the other watcher hastily dipped her cloth into a basin of water, wrung it out and gently laid it on the patient’s forehead. She then sank back down into the chair as if wearied by long hours of watching.

 ‘Dinny,’ Merimac said quietly. ‘Know you not your old friend? I know it has been a score of years...’

 ‘I see I’m not the only one the years have touched,’ Ferdinand muttered.

Merimac chuckled. ‘You mean I’m twice the hobbit I used to be,’ he said, spreading his hands expressively.

 ‘If not three times,’ Ferdinand grumbled, and Merimac grinned, a more sincere smile than the one he’d put on as he entered the room.

 ‘Whereas I’m half the hobbit I was,’ Ferdinand said. ‘Why are you here, Merry?’

 ‘I came to see an old friend,’ Merimac said, nodding to the bed.

 ‘Perhaps you’d care for a cup of tea,’ the matron said hastily, exchanging looks with the other watcher, ‘and I must return to the sitting room, in the event a healer is called for... Holly, would you warm a teapot and bring tea to Ferdinand and his visitor?’ No mention of the hobbit in the bed. Of course.

 ‘Yes’m,’ the other watcher said at once, rising from her seat. Merimac had the feeling that the matron was rather more important than he’d given her credit for, but before he could ask her name she’d withdrawn from the room with Holly, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Merimac eased himself into the vacated chair, touching the cloth on Ferdi’s forehead—it was already warm. He soaked the cloth in the cool water, wrung it out, and replaced it, then took up the hot, limp hand.

 ‘Hullo, Fox,’ he said softly. Ferdinand opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. Ferdi’s eyes opened, heavy-lidded, and he strove as if to discern Merimac’s face. ‘It’s just an old Badger,’ Merimac said, ‘come to see how you fare.’

Ferdi moistened dry, cracked lips with a tongue that hardly seemed suited to the task, but said nothing.

Merimac turned his gaze to Ferdinand. ‘Why?’ he whispered.

Ferdinand cleared his throat uneasily. ‘There’s fever going round; no doubt you’ve heard of it,’ he said. ‘I’d just recovered from a bout, myself...’ He looked down at his son and essayed a sad smile. ‘Never left my side,’ he whispered. ‘Not until the fever broke.’

Ferdi smiled faintly and closed his eyes again, his fingers fluttering in Merimac’s grasp. ‘I wager that’s a comfort,’ Merimac said quietly. To be under the Ban was to be denied all intercourse with other hobbits: talk, touch, even eye contact. At most Merimac, as a Bucklander, risked being shown the border of the Tookland for violating the Ban; Ferdi risked much more, but he did not protest the handclasp. Indeed, he continued to smile as he drifted into dream.

 ‘It’s rather awkward,’ Ferdinand agreed. ‘He collapsed on his way to feed me my late supper, and I’m sure it took a deal of courage for someone to lift him and bring him here. Even the healers are tentative... tradition is, when one under the Ban falls seriously ill, sentence is lifted, but there’s been nothing of the sort in this case.’

 ‘Does he know?’ Merimac asked in wonder, carefully avoiding use of “Thain” or “Paladin” for his Tookish friends’ sake.

Ferdinand snorted lightly. ‘What d’you think?’ he said. ‘Came here to see the lad, out of his head with fever, and left without saying a word. Woodruff as head healer is the only one who’ll openly defy the hobbit; she handles most of the necessary care personally, and her daughter-in-love, Holly, takes care of the rest. But no one else dares to touch him, or sing to him, or even to visit...’ Eyes moist, he sniffled. Merimac pulled out a clean pocket-handkerchief and reached across the narrow bed to dab at Ferdinand’s eyes, then held it so his old friend could blow.

 ‘Thankee,’ Ferdinand muttered.

 ‘How long?’ Merimac said obliquely. Even a thief suffered the Ban for a year at most. Perhaps Ferdi’s time was nearly done, and that was why Paladin let the sentence run on.

 ‘Ever since... he... left,’ Ferdinand said, and hesitated, his eyes drilling Merimac’s.

Merimac nodded uncertainly, going over the implications in his head while silently cursing the Tooks and their traditions. Shunning and banishing were well and good—all families knew about the practice and made use of it when deemed necessary. Some patriarchs or matriarchs were freer than others. Tooks, with their fey streak, held more closely with the ancient traditions for dealing with troublemakers. “He” was evidently another Took, Banned or banished outright, his name unmentionable amongst those he left behind.

The Bucklander gasped as certain pieces fell into place. ‘His son?’ he said slowly. ‘But that was years ago...’ Pippin had evaded his escort to ride to Buckland... and had stayed, vowing never to return.

 ‘Five years ago,’ Ferdinand whispered, looking from Ferdi’s smiling face back to Merimac’s shocked one. ‘In a fit of anger, it was, for dereliction of duty, but too proud ever to admit the injustice of it, or to make good the error.’

Merimac eased his hand from Ferdi’s to take up the cloth, dip it in the cool water, wring it out and replace it again. He took the sleeping hobbit’s hand once more, almost defiantly.

 ‘Is he mad?’ he demanded, and it wasn’t Bilbo he was talking about. ‘This goes beyond stubborn pride...’

 ‘He kept Tookland free,’ Ferdinand said obliquely. ‘The Tooks feel they owe him for that, and unless he harms Tookland with his actions...’

 ‘Injustice to one is injustice to all,’ Merimac argued in a whisper, but his old friend merely shook his head sorrowfully. Merimac’s hand tightened unconsciously on Ferdi’s. ‘But he didn’t keep them out all of his own power,’ he said stubbornly. ‘As I recall there were certain others who were instrumental...’ Ferdi, for one, who’d risked his neck to lay traps for ruffians and to gather information for the Thain.

 ‘Tell it to the Thain,’ Ferdinand said wearily, caution forgotten for the moment.

Merimac’s lips tightened; he swallowed hard, thinking back on halcyon days, four tweens adventuring together: Merimac and Saradoc, Paladin and Ferdinand. ‘What ever happened to the days of “Merry and Sorry, Dinny and Dinny”?’ he whispered. ‘We swore that naught would ever separate us...’

He looked again into Ferdi’s sleeping face. ‘How much longer?’ he said simply. ‘If I could speak to him, persuade him that...’

 ‘Do you not think Aggie’s been trying for the past five years?’ Ferdinand said, using the old pet name they’d had for Eglantine in the former carefree days, before she became “Mistress of Tookland”. ‘Toward the end of the first month, I sent for her, though I’d refused her visits up until that time, hers and everyone else’s. I begged her to intercede for...’ his mouth worked soundlessly, the words my son, before he continued, ‘and she’s been chipping away ever since. She’s the only one to say his name, amongst all the Tooks, the only one who dares to speak a good word. Her husband cannot very well put her under the Ban...’

It was Merimac’s turn to snort. ‘Every husband’s dream,’ he said, ‘just a little peace and quiet, once in awhile.’

 ‘Aggie says,’ Ferdinand continued, ‘she says that the only way to change things as they are is if... he returns, takes responsibility for the whole mess, persuades his father to lift the Ban, and settles himself firmly under his father’s thumb once more...’

Merimac nodded, following this rather oblique speech. Pippin’s decision to leave Tookland had precipitated this dreadful state of affairs. Only his return would do to mend matters.

 ‘I’ll bring him back,’ Merimac said, rising abruptly to his feet. He gave Ferdi’s hand a squeeze and released it, renewed the cool, refreshing cloth, and stood looking down on the sleeping hobbit. ‘I’ll bring him back here if I have to drag him by his collar; if it’s the last thing I do...’

 ‘Let us hope it does not come to that,’ Ferdinand said.

Merimac ponderously skirted the bed and leaned to embrace his old friend, laying his cheek against Ferdinand’s unmarked cheek. ‘Dinny,’ he said softly. ‘It won’t come to that. You ought to see the hobbit he’s grown into: upright, honest, reliable and conscientious. He’ll probably drag me back by my collar, before I’ve even changed into a fresh shirt for the return journey...’ His arms tightened for a moment, and then rising, he let himself out of the room. Holly hovered in the corridor, tea tray in her hands. Evidently she had not wanted to interrupt the conversation.

 ‘Did you want some tea, Mr. Brandybuck?’ she asked now.

 ‘No, no thank you, lass,’ Merimac said. ‘I’ve quite had my fill.’ He held the door for her, that she might enter the room, and then he left the infirmary.