Chapter 31. Further Developments

Rosemary stopped just long enough to saddle her pony. She had no qualms about flinging herself onto the mare's back and riding straight to Whitwell, riding without saddle or bridle and just lead rope and knees to guide the pony, but she wasn't so sure the healer would be able to ride so.

They made up for the delay in the speed of their passing; instead of proceeding down the long lane to the road and turning the corner, Rosie galloped across the fields, past astonished cows, hurtling fences as boldly as her brother might when engaged in a forbidden race with Merry. Her father was a stickler for "the proper use of ponies" and had punished the lads more than once for riding as Rosemary now rode, flat out, bending over the pony's neck, urging the little mare to ever faster speeds.

She pulled the mare to a slower pace, coming into Whitwell, not just for the sake of the hobbits that might be in the street, but because the cobbles were hard on a pony's legs. It was not long before she pulled up before the healer's little smial. She flung the reins around the top of the gate and ran to the door, calling.

Beryl came to the door. 'What is it?' she said, at the sight of Rosie's face expecting the worst.

'Ferdi!' Rosemary gasped. 'Fell out of a tree.'

Beryl needed to hear no more. A lad, the Goodbodys' second-to-youngest, had died the previous week, after falling from a tree. She grabbed up the healer's bag, standing ready at the door, and took Rosemary's arm, turning her around. 'Sweetie was just stopping over to fetch a cup of sugar,' she said in explanation. They ran to the gate and Rosemary jumped up into the saddle again, taking the bag that Beryl handed up. Beryl took the reins and hurried down two doors and around the corner, where Woodruff was standing at Tru and Mira's front gate, a cup of sugar in her hands, chatting.

She looked up as Beryl called, 'Sweetie!'

'Not Whittacres again!' Woodruff said, shoving the cup into Mira's hands. 'What's that young Pippin been into this time, I wonder!'

She ran to the pony, took Rosemary's outstretched hand and climbed into the saddle behind Rosemary.

'What is it?' Mira asked, extending the sugar to Beryl. The pair were already out of sight, around the corner, the clatter of hoofbeats fading rapidly.

'Fell out of a tree,' Beryl said, taking the cup.

Mira put her hand to her breast. 'That young lad,' she said in shock and grief. 'You'd think he'd learnt a lesson or three about climbing...'

'Not Pippin,' Beryl said, 'but one of his cousins.'

'The Brandybuck?' Mira said, expecting the worst. After all, Bucklanders didn't go in for tree-climbing, much. Still, what would come of it, if the son of the heir to Buckland were seriously injured while visiting his Took cousins?

'No, young Ferdi,' Beryl said.

'That one!' Mira said in surprise. 'He's half-squirrel, I hear, the way he climbs up after young Tooks that've got themselves stuck halfway...'

'Even squirrels can fall,' Beryl said glumly, and sighed. 'I'd best get back before the scones burn.'

'You do that,' Mira said. 'You wouldn't want Mardi to try to take them out of the oven; he's not supposed to bring those hands of his near heat.'

But when Beryl got back with the cup of sugar, the rescued scones were sitting on the table, done to a turn, and the teapot sat under its bright cosy, and Mardi and Hetty were waiting for her.

As she started to scold, Mardi held up his gloved hand. 'I didn't come near the stove,' he said with dignity.

'Then who...' Beryl said, and broke off as Mardi and Hetty exchanged conspiratorial glances, and Hetty giggled. 'Hetty?'

'I'm not an invalid,' Hetty said patiently. Beryl had tried to take the lass under her wing, upon her arrival. She was the motherly type, hen to the chicks under her roof, and so Hetty took no offence. As a matter of fact, Beryl's solicitousness was something of a comfort to her, away from home and mother for the first time in her life, and Hetty quickly saw that Beryl sprinkled her clucks about Woodruff and Mardi as well as Hetty herself. 'I've been taking scones from ovens as long as you have!'

'And doing a bonny job of it, I warrant,' Mardi said gallantly. 'Now, Beryl, sit yourself down and tell us the latest. What's it all about? Who fell from a tree?'

There followed a discussion of Tooks and trees. It is not that they were hard-hearted, but that they had the barest facts of the matter. It was no use fussing over broken eggs until one knew how many eggs had broken. Woodruff would bring them news on her return, or would at the least send word. And in the meantime, they had better take the tea whilst it was hot, for an interruption could come at any time... which, life being what it is, it did.

***

'Don't move him!' Paladin warned as they reached the base of the tree and the still figure that lay there.

Ferdinand fell to his knees by his son, calling his name.

A few moments later, Eglantine came puffing up, to kneel at the lad's other side. Very gently, she laid her fingers against young Ferdi's neck. 'He's cool,' she said with dread. Carefully, so as not to move the lad, she slid her fingers down to find the pulse point. 'His heart's going,' she said, adding a sigh of relief. 'But he's cold...'

Merry, who'd been fully winded, came up with his mother, whom he'd been helping over the furrows, and then came Pearl and Pimpernel, pulling Pervinca between them. 'Is he...?' Merry said in dread.

'You'll be all right, Son,' Ferdinand was crooning.

Paladin removed his jacket and laid it over Ferdi, and Ferdinand added his jacket on top, and Eglantine and Esmeralda covered the lad's feet with their shawls.

Ferdinand kept talking to his son, words of hope and encouragement, though his face was a terrible sight. Merry could scarcely bear to look at him. He felt somehow responsible, being older than Ferdi by a year.

It seemed an eternity before the thud of hoofs was heard, and all looked up to see Rosemary's mare racing across the cabbage field. She pulled the pony to a stop at the edge of the copse, and handed Woodruff the healer's bag as the latter slid from the pony's back. The beast was lathered and blowing hard, and Rosemary began to walk the little mare in circles, though she craned for a view of her younger brother.

Merry immediately went to take the reins. 'I'll walk her,' he said. 'You go to Ferdi.'

'Thanks,' she said breathlessly, and hurried to join the group gathered to watch the healer's examination.

Woodruff had moved Ferdibrand onto his back, after a careful look at his neck and spine, and now she had the lad's shirt open and was probing his abdomen with gentle fingers, her face grave. 'Broken leg, at the least,' she was saying to Ferdinand. 'And I don't know what mischief he might've made to his insides...'

'And if he has...' Ferdinand said, his voice tight with grief.

Woodruff shook her head. 'Only time will tell,' she said soberly. 'If something's broken loose, inside, there's naught I can do. We can only hope the injuries are little ones, and that his body can heal itself. No ribs broken, but I don't like the feel...' She bent her head as she went over the lad's middle section again, front and back. 'We'll carry him back, as gently as may be, and then he'll need absolute quiet...'

'Pippin!' Eglantine said, starting up.

'Probably still asleep,' Paladin said, rising to his feet. 'Nell! Go back to the farm and waken your brother. Take him to the Bankses and tell his Grandma what's happened; ask her to keep Pippin until we send for him.'

Nell stood frozen, staring down at Ferdibrand. 'Nell!' her father said again.

'I'll go,' Pearl said quickly. She gave Pimpernel's hand a squeeze and turned to trot back across the fields to the smial.

***

Pippin squinted at the westering sun. He wondered if his family had returned to the tea table, or if they had simply sat down to tea wherever it was that they'd gone? It would serve them right, for having left without him, the surprise they'd have, coming home to find him gone. Like a grand game of "I hide and you seek me"... but surely it wasn't far, now, to Bag End. He ought to be there and back again before bedtime, hardly enough time for anyone to worry.

He didn't see the fox, creeping through the long grass after him, gathering its courage. Grown hobbits were beyond its hopes, but a little one, now... This one was scarcely the size of a newborn lamb. The fox licked its chops in anticipation, and memory. He had been lucky enough to catch a lamb, once, when the mother ewe had stolen away to give birth and caught her wool in the brambles she'd meant for shelter.

The fox listened keenly for the sound of larger hobbits. He lifted his nose in the air to sample the scents. His own heavy musk had not reached the young hobbit, for he was careful to stay downwind.

Not long, now. He could almost taste the warm blood, bursting forth under his teeth, the delight of fresh meat, and hear the joyful yaps of his kits as he brought the remains of the carcase to his den.

***

'Hulloo!' came a gasping cry from the front garden, and Mardi rose from table, calling, 'Coming!'

'We need a healer,' a hobbit panted, pushing the door wide. He bore a limp young hobbit, foot bound up in bloody cloth.

'Mr. Greenbanks!' Hetty said, startled, scarcely recognising the proprietor of the dry-goods shop in Whitwell. She knew him as a kindly hobbit, who, with a conspiratorial manner and comradely wink always pressed a half-scoop of peppermints into her hand whenever she came shopping with her mother. But at the moment, his good-natured face was tight with worry, his ruddy cheeks washed pale, his habitual smile missing. Indeed, he scarcely seemed to see Hetty, looking wildly about, perhaps in search of Healer Woodruff's reassuring face.

'Bring him right in,' Mardi said. Beryl hurried to the kitchen to give the well-scrubbed table a quick wipe with a damp cloth, and the young hobbit was soon stretched out there while Mardi unbound the cloth around the foot.

'Was chopping wood,' Mr. Greenbanks was panting. 'Axe hit a knot in the log and bounced into his foot...'

'Mmm hmmm,' Mardi said, having uncovered the gaping wound. He squeezed the edges together, hard, and the fainting youth half-roused with a gasping protest. 'Beryl,' Mardi said, without looking up from the wound, and then hearing Hetty's halting step, he said, 'Hetty, wash your hands, now, just like the Mistress showed you.'

Of course Hetty didn't need the reminder, but she only nodded as she went about scrubbing her hands. Mardi's tone, and the reminder, told her how perturbed the hobbit was. As for herself... she squeezed her hands together, hard. Don't you even think of trembling! She had done much stitching over the course of the previous week, much of it on chickens before they went into the pot, but she had sewn together some gashes in hobbits as well, under Woodruff's or Mardi's close supervision. But such a wound, where the white of bones showed... She set her lips tight, and pinched herself hard, and turned to the kitchen table with a calm she didn't feel.

'Woodruff...' the shopkeeper was saying. 'Healer Woodruff...'

'Don't you worry, Mr. Greenbanks,' Mardi said in a bluff and hearty voice. 'We'll have young Toddy put right soon enough. You stand right there, by his head, and keep holding onto his hand.'

Beryl had washed her hands and was threading needles that she'd soaked in strong spirits, and placing them on a clean cloth on a tray. She brought this over to Mardi, who continued to hold the wound together with his now-bloodied gloves.

'Ain't you gonna stitch him back together?' Mr. Greenbanks said, his careful manners forgotten in the crisis. 'Ain't you gonna...'

'Of course,' Mardi said. 'Hetty, here, is the best stitcher I know in these parts, next to Healer Woodruff, that is.'

Though they had hopes, yet, for his full recovery, Mardi could not feel a needle between finger and thumb--not when wearing gloves, at least, and his new-grown skin was not yet strong enough to manage without. He and Hetty, together, made one healer between them. He was the eyes and skill, and she was the hands in the partnership, and together they'd gathered herbs and treated sick and injured hobbits when Woodruff had been called away.

'Hetty!' the shopkeeper said, startled. 'I'd heard the healer took you on, but...'

'Hetty's set lots of stitches,' Mardi said. 'Don't you worry about a thing, Mr. Greenbanks...' He caught the new apprentice's eye and gave her a firm nod, and she took both reassurance and instruction. Go boldly, lass, for fear is your worst foe, and the lad's, and his father's as well.

Hetty hobbled over and leaned against the kitchen table. 'Ready,' she said with a confident nod. Mardi shifted his grip slightly, and Hetty picked up the first of the threaded needles. 'Hold him still,' she added, and Mr. Greenbanks nodded.

'Steady, Toddy,' he said to his son. 'Healer's gonna make everythin' right again.'

***

Pearl paused in confusion at the door to Pippin's room. The bed was empty, the bedcovers tossed carelessly back. The smial was so quiet, she'd thought her little brother still asleep.

'Pippin?' she called, to be answered by silence.

She passed back through the kitchen, only then noticing what she'd been too hurried to see before. The table had been cleared and scrubbed, the dishes washed up, and everything put away. She peeked in the pantry, seeing a few scones remaining on a plate, the cheeses covered, as well as the butter and jam.

'What in the world?' she said. She couldn't imagine Pippin taking care of all this...

Coming out again, she spied a note on the well-scrubbed sideboard, and catching it up, she read rapidly, her tense shoulders relaxing as she sighed in relief.

Her grandmother Banks and two of her aunts had stopped by, and finding the family called away, had washed up for them, and put the food away. It was no use inviting insects and larger nuisances into the kitchen, leaving such a temptation spread out upon the table!

Pippin was in good hands, it seemed. He could stay with the Bankses as long as needed. Her parents would send word, of course, as soon as they knew with any certainty what was what, but for the moment it was a solution tailor-made. Pippin could play with his Banks cousins and be petted by his grandparents, and Ferdi would have the quiet that the healer had ordered.

With a somewhat lighter heart--she remained terribly worried for Ferdi's sake, of course--she turned and hurried back over the fields.

***

Pippin was tired, and hungry, and craning eagerly for a glimpse of Bywater and the Hill rising beyond. The sun was close to the horizon, which meant he'd been walking some four hours or more. Surely he was nearly to Bag End.

He didn't stop to consider that it was an all-day journey by waggon. He was cutting across the fields, after all, and so the distance must be considerably shortened. He remembered Frodo drawing with a stick in the dust, showing Merry triangles, part of explaining distances on a map, and he'd lingered, fascinated that the long line was actually shorter than the two lesser lines, when they were put together. Crossing the fields, he was walking the long line--but it certainly did seem long, at the moment.

The ploughed fields had given way to grassy meadow, dotted with wildflowers that were now closing their eyes, preparing for sleep. Pippin wanted to close his eyes as well, but he really did want to reach Bag End by suppertime. It was probably just over that next rise... He sat himself down suddenly. He'd rest his weary legs for a few moments, no longer than the length of a song, and then he'd get up and walk again.

***

'I don't even want a litter,' Woodruff was saying when Pearl arrived. 'No, we won't carry him on a blanket, or in his father's loving arms--I'm sorry, Dinny.'

'How, then?' Ferdinand said. He stroked a wayward curl back from his son's forehead and with his pocket-handkerchief, wiped away the small trickle of blood that emerged from the corner of the lad's mouth. Woodruff, at first seriously alarmed by this sign, had been reassured on probing Ferdi's mouth to find that he'd bitten his tongue, and that was the source of blood, rather than the internal injuries she feared.

'Can you take a door from its hinges?' Woodruff asked Paladin. 'A door would be ideal; wide and firm, or several boards nailed together.'

'We will!' Paladin said, getting to his feet. He laid a hand on his old friend's shoulder. 'I won't be long, Dinny. Be back in no time.' With a glance at Merry he was trotting over the fields, and Merry, interpreting the glance, followed.

They took down the small side door from the barn and carried it across the fields, putting it down next to Ferdi. Woodruff carefully supervised the easing of the lad onto the door, and then Paladin and Ferdinand lifted either end, while the others walked supporting the sides, not because Paladin and Ferdinand needed their aid, but because they wanted to be of aid, even this little bit of assistance.

***

Ted came in as Hetty was setting the last stitch. Toddy had bravely held on through it all, biting hard on the cloth Beryl gave him. Small, painful noises leaked through, and his father was sweating hard and biting his own lip as he watched, though from time to time he'd force a smile and whisper something soothing to his son.

'Mr. Greenbanks!' Ted said in greeting, and the shopkeeper mumbled a reply, his eyes not leaving his son's foot.

Ted took in the long line of neat stitches and patted the lad on the shoulder. 'Well, Toddy,' he said. 'You're in good hands.'

Mardi nodded. 'He is indeed,' he said.

Ted's eyebrows rose at Mardi's blood-soaked gloves, but he said only, 'Mum's invited you for supper, and Da's come home earlier than expected, so if you're not busy you're to come and sit in the garden and enjoy the waning of the day.'

'We're not busy,' Mardi said, pulling his hands back to allow Beryl to run a damp cloth gently over the wounded foot, cleaning away the worst of the drying blood. 'Just finished, here, as a matter of fact.'

Ted stepped forward, saying impulsively, 'Mardi and I will take care of things here; you lasses go on ahead.' In the meantime, Beryl applied dressing and bandages, and the colour began to return to the shopkeeper's cheeks as the ugly wound, now neatly closed, disappeared under tidy white wrappings.

'You may take him home, Mr. Greenfields,' Mardi said, nodding to Toddy's father. 'Tuck him up in bed, put that foot up on cushions, and make sure he drinks plenty of liquids. Strong beef tea and a few meals of liver would do him a world of good...' He smiled in sympathy at the face young Toddy made.

'Thank you, thank you,' Mr. Greenfields effused, and then he said, 'I'll bring by your payment later, I will.'

'Tomorrow will be fine,' Mardi said. 'Wouldn't want you to miss your supper, or anything.'

'Tomorrow, then,' Mr. Greenfields said, nodding and pulling at his forelock. 'Thankee, sir, misses, thankee. Come along, Toddy, let us get you home.' He picked up his son in his arms, and departed, much less hurriedly than he'd come.

'But the washing up,' Beryl protested. 'What about...?'

'I've washed a plate or two in my time,' Ted said, 'and I'm sure Mardi can dry and put away, can't you, Mardi? But first we'll take care of those gloves. I know how to do it! I've watched you or Sweetie enough times!'

It took a little more persuasion, but eventually Beryl helped Hetty out the door and Ted said, after putting water on to heat for the washing up, 'Well, Mardi? Seems to me that the first thing we ought to do is change those gloves of yours.'

'Can't exactly wash 'em with my hands in 'em,' Mardi agreed. He held out his hands to Ted, and the latter gently worked the gloves off and set them to soak in a basin--he'd scrub them out after Mardi's hands were cared for. Ted then poured water from ewer into washbowl and watched as Mardi carefully washed his hands. After Mardi finished rinsing, Ted took up a clean dishcloth and patted the glistening skin dry, then went to fetch the salve and a clean pair of gloves.

'I can...' Mardi began, but Ted shook his head.

'You aren't to be using your hands, ungloved,' he said. 'Might split the skin, and then what would Sweetie be saying to me?'

'To you?' Mardi said. 'Rather to me, for my foolishness and short-sightedness and all manner of other shortcomings.'

Ted smiled briefly, his eyes on Mardi's hands as he worked the salve between the fingers. 'Well...' he said.

'That's a deep subject,' Mardi said as the silence stretched out.

But Ted didn't smile at the mild witticism, merely repeated himself. 'Well...'

'Deep and dark,' Mardi said helpfully.

Ted looked up, puzzled. 'What did you say?' he said.

'Nothing of import,' Mardi said.

'Mmm,' Ted said, looking down again. He massaged and gloved Mardi's right hand, then began on his left.

Partway through, he repeated, 'Well.' Mardi held his tongue.

At last, safely gloved once more, Mardi cleared away the tea things and put away the food while Ted washed up, and then Ted dried the dishes, to keep Mardi's gloves scrupulously dry and clean, and then handed each clean-and-dry article to Mardi to put away.

'Well,' he said again, hanging up the towel.

'Mmm,' Mardi replied.

Ted stopped, meeting Mardi's eyes squarely. 'Well,' he said bravely, with finality in his tone. 'Don't you think that folk haven't been noticing...'

'Noticing?' Mardi said.

'Noticing,' Ted said firmly. 'Plain as the nose on my face, it is. And I just want to say, I've had my eye on you.'

'Have you now?' Mardi said. 'Sounds a bit painful.'

'Just the same,' Ted forged on, 'I find you to be a fine and upright hobbit, honest and hard-working. I figure you haven't spoken yet, because of the accident, and having your hands so badly burned you thought you might not be a healer anymore, but rather a burden...'

Mardi took a deep breath, but remained silent.

'Sweetie says you ought to expect a full recovery, so long as you don't do something foolish, that is,' Ted said. 'And so "being a burden" doesn't seem so likely now, does it?'

Mardi nodded, but Ted's eyes bored into his and he felt more of an answer was expected. 'No,' he said, 'it doesn't seem so likely as it did.'

'Not likely at all,' Ted said, and held up a hand. 'But even if it were, I don't think it would matter to her. She'd love you all the same.'

Mardi found it difficult to draw breath.

'And so what I'm trying to say is,' Ted said, 'I mean, my whole family feel the same about you, my da, and my mum, and all. What I'm trying to say is, you have my blessing.'

'I do?' Mardi said seriously. He'd noticed Ted's restraint, all this time, in the face of his overtures of friendliness. 'You... approve?'

'I do,' Ted said. 'And so I think you ought to do the right thing, and go and talk to my da about it, to ask his permission and all that sort of thing.'

'I will!' Mardi said, breaking out in a wide grin. 'For sure and for certain, before the sun goes down on this day, I will!'