Chapter 14. Homecoming

Quiet reigned in the sickroom, though not the silence of death, not yet, anyhow. Pippin slept in seeming peace, Merry at his side. Estella stood behind her husband, the better to hide her bruised face, her hands upon his shoulders. The Master of the Hall sat nearby, his wife beside him, their duties neglected or rather delegated to others whilst they waited for the next crisis. The healer had decreed that the next would be the last, for good or ill. Either the fever would break, or Pippin’s heart would...

Healer Ossilan did not know how the Took had survived the struggle for as long as he had. Sheer stubbornness, most likely. Much like that Baggins cousin of his, who’d had more than a drop of Tookish blood in his veins. On his final visit to the Hall, why it was nearly ten years ago now! – he’d looked to be on his last legs, and yet they’d had word some months later that he’d taken ship and sailed away with the Elves. Who’d’ve thought it?

Outside a fresh flock of watchers hovered, sitting or standing as they awaited summons. The last batch had been dismissed, wearied by their efforts and shaken by the dreams they’d unwillingly witnessed. The young master was even more of a hero in their eyes, after what they’d overheard of Pippin’s Orc-dreams: Merry had led a muster of Brandybucks against those terrifying creatures, and destroyed them!

Diamond had come twice, only to be turned away, gently but firmly. Now, watching Pippin’s peaceful face, Estella whispered, ‘We ought...’

Saradoc looked up. ‘Eh? What was that, my dear?’ he said kindly.

 ‘She ought to see him now,’ Estella said. ‘She ought to say her good-byes now, while he’s at peace. Might he not even hear her? Might he not speak a word of comfort, even as he is sleeping?’

Ossilan shook his head. ‘Pippin would be the first to insist on Diamond’s safety, and the babe’s,’ he said. ‘The fever, at this time...’

 ‘But...’ Estella argued, breaking off as her husband stiffened under her hands. Pippin was moving his head on the pillow, craning as if for a view, his eyes half open.

Ossilan stepped to the door to summon the watchers. They filed in, taking their places around the bed, though there was no need for restraint at the moment. Esmeralda leaned forward in her chair, grasping her husband’s hand more tightly as murmured words came from the bed, breaking off in a wild cry.

Gandalf! Gandalf! He always turns up when things are darkest. Go on! Go on, White Rider! Gandalf, Gandalf!

 ‘Hold,’ Ossilan hissed. ‘Not yet,’ he warned the watchers. ‘Wait... if he shows any sign of trying to throw off the bedclothes...’ He received a series of nods in reply as Pippin fell to murmuring once more.

They’ll come at once to the Tower and the Steward, I’d guess. Perhaps I can catch a glimpse if I hurry to the citadel! O but there is such a throng! What a trial it is, to be but a hobbit in a city of so many tall Men!’

Merry leaned forward, holding his cousin’s hand, while Ossilan soaked the cooling cloth and sponged the furnace heat that was Pippin’s skin. ‘Pippin,’ he whispered. ‘It is but a dream, Pippin. Come back to us, now.’

For a moment he had hopes that Pippin heard him, for his cousin sat up a little from his pillows, his eyes coming more fully open as his head turned in Merry’s direction, and he caught his breath sharply.

 ‘Pippin?’ Merry said, hope stirring.

His face! Did ever any hobbit look upon such; like unto the Kings of old he is, pale as if carven of stone, set in expression as one who has been assailed by a great fear or anguish, but has mastered it. How proud he looks, and grave! ...and how like unto his brother he is. O Merry, he looks so much like Boromir, I wish you were here to see him!

Merry’s lips moved silently as if he wished to protest that he was there indeed; but then he swallowed hard and said nothing, merely pressed his cousin’s hand.

I see now, why Beregond speaks his Captain’s name with love, why he would follow his Captain into the very fires of Doom and never quail. O Merry, he is a Man among Men; why, he is one I would follow, yea, even under the shadow of the black wings. Faramir! Faramir!

The murmur rose to a cry, and Pippin pulled his hand from Merry’s to wave as he shouted acclaim.

Ossilan put down the dampened cloth to ease the delirious hobbit back against the pillows, murmuring agreement. ‘Yes, yes, he is quite the noble figure, your Captain,’ he said, remembering the tales of the Quest he’d overheard, as the Travellers had told them to Saradoc and Esmeralda, ‘but now that he has returned to the City it is time to take your rest. Not yet time to stand to arms, but to rest...’

Pippin sank back into his cushions and sighed. ‘Rest,’ he said, ‘to rest, to sleep, in a world where there will be no dawning. Ah, Merry... will you come?’

 ‘I am coming,’ Merry said brokenly, leaning forward once more. ‘Do you hear me, Pippin? Even now I am riding to your side. The city will not fall, and the Rohirrim are riding to join the battle. Hold fast, cousin.’

 ‘Hold fast,’ Pippin murmured, his eyes closing as he relaxed into the pillows. ‘Yes, that is right. I must hold fast. Merry will come, and Frodo... he saw Frodo, you know. Frodo’s alive, still, and so long as he is doing his part we must help in whatever small way we may...’ His voice faded and he seemed to sleep again.

Merimac entered the room then, to be greeted by his surprised relations. ‘I heard,’ he said, nodding towards the bed. ‘How is he?’

He frowned at Ossilan’s whispered report, and with a nod said, ‘I think the lad’ll surprise us yet! He still has work to do before he’s done...’

He kissed Esmeralda’s cheek and straightened. ‘I go to greet my own wife,’ he said, ‘and then I’ll seek a bath, and change out of these rumpled and ill-smelling clothes, stained as they are by two long and full days of travel. When I return I’ll hope to find the lad awake, for I’ve brought messages back from the Smials for him, love from his mother and a challenge he can sink his teeth into...’

 ‘And what news of the Shire proper?’ Saradoc said, mindful of why his brother had ridden so far and so long.

 ‘News that’ll keep,’ Merimac said, and the Master nodded, relieved. Bad news would be told at once; “keeping news” could only mean that no sign of Orcs had been reported.

 ‘Good,’ he said, rising to hug his brother. ‘Have a bath and change, and make a good meal whilst you’re at it. And if the lad is still sleeping when you’re done, seek your own bed. You’ll be all the better for it in the morning, and hopefully he’ll be better, as well.’

Merimac nodded and crossed to the bed. Taking up Pippin’s hand, he said, ‘You had better be, if you know what’s good for you, young Took! Your work is just beginning, you know!’

 ‘I know,’ Pippin said unexpectedly, and Merimac leaned forward, his eyes intent. Pippin opened his eyes and said, ‘Why Uncle Badger, you’re a sight! Have you been out chasing ruffians again?’

Merimac opened his lips to reply, but Pippin’s eyes closed again and with a sigh and a smile he was once more asleep.

The old Badger put a gentle hand upon his forehead, frowning at the heat he found there, and called his name, but Pippin did not stir again.

 ‘Go, brother,’ Saradoc urged, having risen to stand behind his brother, a hand on Merimac’s shoulder. ‘Ossilan thinks the fever must break tonight; it’s run as long a course as anyone’s who’s had this particular fever that’s going round.’

 ‘Did you hear that, Pippin-lad?’ Merimac said, stroking the sweat-damp curls back from the forehead. ‘I’ll hold you to it! We’ll breakfast together on the morrow, and I’ll tell you all the news...’

***

Some hours later, Paladin wakened to soft murmurs; Eglantine invariably spoke her dreams, and he was used to such, sleeping through much of it, but this was different. His beloved wife was weeping; her breathing was ragged and tears glistened from her cheeks.

He rolled to encompass her in his arms, shushing and soothing, hoping to ease her into a better dream, but instead she wakened.

 ‘O Dinny,’ she said, wiping at her face with the bedclothes. ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to waken...’

 ‘I was already wakening,’ he said. ‘Why look at the time! ‘Twill be dawn in just a few hours more! Back on the farm you’d be stirring round the kitchen and I’d be chiding the children to hurry up their early breakfast and get to milking afore the day was half gone...’

 ‘O Dinny,’ she said again, and buried her face in his shoulder.

 ‘There-there, lass,’ he soothed, rubbing and patting her back. From the soft murmurs he’d overheard, he had a good idea of what troubled his wife. ‘He’ll come back to us someday, I know he will.’

She shook her head against him, and he felt a shudder run through her as she fought fresh sobs.

 ‘Now-then, lass,’ he said. ‘ ‘Tis truly I’m speaking. I’ve had a “seeing” about it. I know he’ll come, for I’ve “seen” him.’

Eglantine pulled back, sniffling, to peer earnestly into his face. ‘You’ve seen him?’ she said. She knew that amongst the Tooks some were given the gift of seeing things that had not yet come to pass, some more than others, but in any event it was never at will but only, seemingly, by chance. It was little spoken of, for it made other hobbits uneasy and gave credence to that old nonsense about “fairy blood”. Paladin had always been a sturdy and solid hobbit, not given to fancy.

Paladin sat up against the headboard and pulled Eglantine to his side, nestling her under his arm. ‘I have,’ he whispered stoutly, not wanting to alert any hovering servants to the fact that Thain and Mistress were awake. ‘I’ve seen him, here in the Smials.’

 ‘A dream...?’ Eglantine said softly, sniffing again. ‘I know I dream of him often, and wish for him...’

 ‘I’ve seen him, love,’ Paladin insisted. ‘Like as if I could touch him! You, you’re sitting in your chair by the hearth, stitching away, and he’s sprawled on the hearthrug at your feet, all grown up with a little child on his knee, and they’re telling the Tale, just as we did in the old days...’

Eglantine’s lips twitched in a smile as she remembered, little Pippin on Paladin’s knee, the two of them immersed in storytelling, passing the story back and forth between them, embroidering on the tale just as her fingers worked the needle in and out of the fabric she held while she listened.

 ‘And what makes me know it’s a “seeing” and not just a dream,’ Paladin said, leaning forward in his eagerness as if the vision rose even now in his mind’s eye, ‘is that he calls the lad by name, and not any name I’d have thought up...’

 ‘What name?’ Eglantine whispered, staring into the darkness as if she could conjure the same vision.

 ‘Farry! Have you ever heard such?’ Paladin said with a chuckle. ‘All I can think is that he named the lad for old Ferumbras. Ferumbrin, perhaps? In any event, I am sure that it’s no name out of my own imaginings. He’ll come back to the Smials, Aggie.’ He hugged her a little closer. ‘You’ll see. He’ll come back someday, to be Thain after me. I might not see it, myself,’ he added lower, but then Paladin was always one to acknowledge hard truths, as long as he wasn’t looking into his own faults. ‘But he will return, and his son with him. A handsome lad, Aggie! He looks so like Pippin did at that age...’

His voice had risen in his joy, and a discreet tap came at the door, and the door opened cautiously, just enough for a head to look in. ‘Would you be needing anything, Sir, Mistress?’

 ‘Naught,’ Paladin said, settling back against his pillows again, and pulling up the bedcovers more snugly over his wife. ‘Not a thing.’ He looked down at Eglantine. ‘Go back to sleep, love. And dream good dreams of hope.’

 ‘G’night, Sir,’ the old hobbitservant whispered, and was dismissed with a wave and a whispered “Good night.”