Chapter 33. Death, a-Creepin' on Silent Paws

The fox pricked his ears forward as his prey sat down, and he crept closer, ready to spring. He crouched, tensed, and never saw the coming of his death; the sheepdog leaped in the same moment, silent in his fury, grabbing the fox by the scruff of the neck as a mother dog might, but then with a shake and a snap he broke the predator's neck, and tossed the body down, lips wrinkled back in disgust.

Though the dog worked more by sight than by smell, the trail had reeked of fox musk, and so the dog had made haste despite his tender paw. A good thing, too--he'd been barely in time to save the hobbit-lambkin.

Now the dog raised his head to observe the landscape, but seeing no other dangers, he moved forward to where the lad slept in the last of the sunshine, waving his silky flag of a tail. A cool breeze blew, and the little hobbit shivered in his sleep. The dog sat down, regarding his charge. Tired, he judged, too tired to nudge into awareness and manoeuvre homewards. With a sigh, he lay down, curling himself around the mite. Though he put his head down on his paws, there was no sleepiness in his watchful eyes. The lad would be safe until morning light. He'd see to it.

***

Once the broken leg was set and splinted, Woodruff settled Ferdi into his bed as carefully and gently as if he were a piece of cracked porcelain that might fall to pieces in her hands.

'If he wakens,' she said to Ferdinand, who sank into a chair Paladin had set by the bed, 'offer him small sips of boiled water. Eglantine's just put the kettle on, and she'll bring a cup for him soon. But don't you be wakening him to try and get him to drink!'

'Are ye going?' Ferdinand said haltingly, and Woodruff lightly rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

'There's nothing more I can do for him,' she said, 'now that his leg is set and he's resting comfortably. I have a small obligation, but I'd set it aside if I thought I could do any good here. No, Dinny, but you watch by his side, if you like. Just stay very quiet, and don't distract him from his serious business. I doubt he'll waken, but if he does, I want you to remember. No food, no drink, save small sips of boiled water, until I say otherwise.'

'And when will ye return? In the morning?'

'Well before morning,' Woodruff said. 'I'll return just so soon as I can excuse myself, unless you send for me sooner. Remember! No food, nor drink, even if he asks.'

'I'll see to it,' Ferdinand promised, his eyes on his son's face.

'And absolute quiet,' Woodruff insisted in a low tone. 'Don't sing to him, for the moment, but let him sleep.'

'Don't sing?' Ferdinand said.

Woodruff's hand tightened on his shoulder. 'Absolute quiet,' she whispered. 'He's deeply asleep, from the signs. I've seen this before, with badly injured hobbits. His body is working at healing with all it can muster. We mustn't distract him.'

'Does he know?' Ferdinand said in wonder.

Woodruff forced a smile. 'Not so that he could talk about it,' she said, 'but his body knows.'

'I've known a dog to crawl off,' Paladin said softly from the doorway, 'when ill or injured, hiding himself away to find healing in sleep.' He didn't mention that dogs also crawled into seclusion to seek a quiet death, though the thought was in his mind as he stared in pity at his old friend.

'Yes, it's something like that,' Woodruff murmured. She took her hand from Ferdinand's shoulder to draw the coverlet up to the teen's chin. 'Keep him warm, keep him quiet, and hope for the best.'

She walked softly from the room to the kitchen, where silent supper preparations were underway. Taking up her healer's bag, she said, 'I must be off, but I'll be returning in the night. I'll just let myself in, shall I?'

'You're not walking back?' Eglantine said, turning from the stove. 'And without a meal to sustain you? You had no tea, Rosemary said, and supper's nearly done. Stay to supper, and then one of the hired hobbits will drive you home.'

'I'm expected for supper,' Woodruff said, 'and unless I was tied down I was to come without fail.'

'Mira's birthday!' Eglantine said. 'In all the worry of the day I forgot! Please give her our best.'

'I'll do that,' Woodruff replied with a smile, and turned to the door.

'Let me give you a ride back!' Rosemary cried impulsively, turning away from the bread she was buttering. She cast a pleading look at Eglantine. 'May I, Auntie?'

'Of course you may, lass,' Eglantine said, and to Woodruff added, 'And you'll be riding your donkey, to return, won't you? Slower, but sure-footed in the dark at least.'

'No,' Woodruff said, 'the donkey belongs to my new apprentice. He acts as Hetty's legs; I could no more take him away from her than I'd take a healthy leg off a hobbit! If there's an emergency while I'm here, she'll need the beast to get where she must go. Really, it's no trouble for me to walk...'

'Never!' Rosemary said impulsively, interrupting though she was not even quite in her tween years. She laid an urgent hand on Woodruff's arm. 'You'll take my pony, then, and after the birthday supper you ride her back, and we'll hear no more of walking!'

'Walking's good for a body,' Woodruff said mildly, but she was overruled as Eglantine and Esmeralda threw their support to Rosemary's side. She gave the lass a hug at last, thanking her for the favour, and it was not long after that she found herself in the saddle, on her way back to Whitwell, with a little bread-and-cheese in her hand "to see her there and safe".

She pulled up in front of Tru and Mira's smial, and young Thom ran out of the door, calling over his shoulder, 'Sweetie's come!' He slowed abruptly, approaching the mare, and grasped the reins. 'I'll take her to the livery,' he said as Woodruff dismounted, 'or...?'

'Put her in the little paddock with Patches,' Woodruff said, naming the donkey. 'I'll be riding her back to Whittacres after supper.'

'How is the lad?' Thom said breathlessly, 'Ferdi, was it? Or Merry?'

'It was Ferdibrand,' Woodruff said, tweaking his nose, 'and he's asleep in his bed with a broken leg, and that's all you need to know about it.'

'Broken leg!' Thom said in awe.

'Aye, and let that be a lesson to you, next time you take it into your head to climb a tall tree,' Woodruff said sternly. With a laugh, Thom was off to put the pony away.

Young Tal came out and seized Woodruff's hand. 'I'm to bear you in honour to the feast,' he said, 'and very glad Mum was, too, that you were able to come. How's Ferdi? Or was it Merry Brandybuck?' None of Tru's sons could quite credit the news that Ferdibrand had fallen while tree-climbing; he was known for climbing up after younger Tooks who couldn't remember how to climb down again once they got high in a tree and made the mistake of looking down. Thus Woodruff had to answer this question several times in the next few moments.

Tal discharged his duty, settling Woodruff next to Mira at the table in the dining room rather than the kitchen, and for this auspicious affair, laid with fancy linens and the china usually kept for the Thain's visits. 'We kept a spot empty, hoping you'd be able to come,' Mira said, taking Woodruff's hand.

O but it was a jolly party, and Woodruff did not dampen their spirits any with her concern that young Ferdi might die after all, the way things stood. She put on a gay face, ate quantities of food, laughed and told stories and sang with the rest, but all the while some of her thoughts rested in a quiet bedroom not two miles from where she sat, and the lonely fight that was going on there.

It comforted her to see Mardi there, eating and drinking with the rest, and Hetty with her pale cheeks delicately flushed and her eyes bright as she laughed at one of Thom's jokes. Ted, she saw, was determinedly cheerful, and she wondered if he'd laid whatever was troubling him to rest. Indeed, when Tru rose from table, proposing pipes, and Mardi said he'd join him in the garden, Ted stood up from his chair and began to stack plates. 'Come Thom!' he called. 'Tal! We hobbits will do the washing up this evening and leave Mum to enjoy the company of her daughters!' To his father, he said, 'We'll join you when we're finished in the kitchen.'

'That leaves you out, Mardi,' Thom said with a laugh. 'You had better give Dad some company in the garden!'

'Old Toby,' Tru said, patting his pocket. 'Come along, Mardi. We'll return in time for the Birthday Toast, and the lighting of the candles.'

'Just so long as we don't set the smial afire!' Mira laughed. 'So very many candles!'

'So many candles,' Tru echoed, bending to kiss her cheek, 'in order to reflect the light you bring to my life.' And then, with a rare blush for speaking his feelings so openly, he turned away, saying, 'Coming, Mardi?'

'I'm right behind you,' Mardi said.

Ted stilled, Woodruff noticed, in the act of picking up the serving platter, his face sober, but she might have only imagined it, for in the next moment he was calling cheerfully to his brothers to "make haste before they smoke up all of Old Toby and leave none for me!"

There was a great deal of talk and laughter in the dining room, and a deal more in the kitchen, along with voices raised in harmony, for not only were the lads doing the washing up but they'd decided to serenade their mum while they were at it. And so there was no way that anyone in the smial would have overheard the quiet conversation going on in the garden, though a passer-by might have noticed that the two hobbits smoking there, enjoying the cool of the evening air, shook hands after a time, and then the older put an arm about the shoulders of the younger, and walked him back into the smial, and to the parlour, where both busied themselves pouring out glasses of cordial.

All was ready when the rest of the family gathered, each picking up a glass from the tray. Tru lifted his glass to observe the rich ruby contents, and lowered it again, looking from one face to another.

'I'm so glad to celebrate another year of having Mira by my side,' he said. 'And speaking of having my dear wife by my side, that brings me to mention...' He paused, and that hobbit, who'd spent so many years speaking for the Thain in various parts of the Shire and even as far as Bree, suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He'd never given away a daughter before.

Ted stared into his own glass, and then plastered on a smile. He had a pretty good idea of what was coming; it was why he'd given Mardi some private time with his father, after all.

'Mardi, here, is a fine hobbit,' Tru said, and cleared his throat, while the rest of the family exchanged glances and Mira caught her breath. 'I find, my love,' he said to Mira, 'that you haven't quite had all your birthday presents from the family... and I do hope you'll forgive the breach in etiquette, leaving this one so late in the day...'

'Tru?' Mira said, wonder in her tone.

'I was so sure there'd be no objections that I just said "Aye" when he asked,' Tru said.

Beryl gasped, her face shining, and Woodruff was grinning broadly.

'And so, Mira, for your birthday, I present to you, your newest son!' Tru finally managed.

There were cries of delight, and cheers from the lads, and all raised their glasses in a toast, though it was rather muddled as to whether they were toasting Mira or Mardi, but it didn't seem to matter. Mira drank, and then threw her free arm around Mardi. 'Never could I have too many sons!' she said in satisfaction. 'There's always room for another!'

But to Ted's confusion, Tru was drawing Beryl to Mardi's side, and then he took away their glasses and joined their hands together. 'Next spring,' he said, 'in the time for weddings, we'll have one of our own!'

***

'It's a good thing Pippin's with his grandparents,' Eglantine said later that evening, pouring out tea for herself and Esmeralda. 'I'm of half a mind to send the lasses there as well, but for the fact that Nell pleaded so pitifully to be allowed to stay, and Pervinca wept and promised solemnly to be as quiet as a mouse.'

'Now they're abed, the smial will be quiet anyhow,' Esmeralda said, sipping at her cup. She sighed. Merry had been put to bed early with a sleeping draught, for Woodruff had insisted. 'I only hope...'

Eglantine swallowed hard. She could only hope, too. It wasn't that long ago that she had been the one sitting a vigil over her little son. Life was so uncertain; you got to taking things for granted, only to be brought up short with the reminder that a loved one, even a child, can be taken at any time.

'I only hope...' Esmeralda repeated. 'Merry blames himself completely, though from what I gather it was not his idea to climb the tree in the first place. I don't know what he'll do, should young Ferdi...' She blinked away fresh tears, unable to voice the awful thought, and added softly, 'Ferdi is Dinny's only son... I cannot imagine... If it had been Merry who'd fallen...'

Eglantine dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her apron and sighed. A Brandybuck up a tree was about as unbelievable as a Took in a river. Though she supposed, if the river were to flood, the Brandybucks would join their Tookish cousins perching on tree limbs... She shook her head to dispel the fancy. 'We're all weary,' she said. 'Surely after a night of sleep he'll see things more clearly.'

'I don't know,' Esmeralda said worriedly. 'He's always been one to take responsibility, since he was a tiny tot, following at his father's or grandfather's heels.'

'He'll be a great Master, someday,' Eglantine said.

'O aye,' Esmeralda said, the Tookish lilt very strong indeed, 'if he doesn't worry himself into an early grave. "Merry" he might be, most of the time, for he hides his troubles well, but...'

'Hides them well indeed,' Eglantine said. 'He's one of the jolliest young hobbits of my acquaintance! Sometimes I think his proper name is "Merry", as a matter of fact, and I forget you named him "Meriadoc", and "Merry" is just his love-name.'

She drank the last of her tea, and stretched. 'Well now,' she said, putting away her worries for Ferdi, for all the good they did. Whether she stayed wakeful all the night, or sought sleep, his life would take its course and all the worry in the world would not alter what was to be. 'We'll just wash up and seek our beds, I think. No use sitting up; Ferdinand will need someone to sit by the lad, give him rest, on the morrow...'