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A Healer's Tale  by Lindelea

Chapter 35. Wanderers Meet

The little hobbit stirred as the Sun was throwing off the bedcovers and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The sheepdog's feathery tail thumped gently, and he raised his head from his paws. Pippin sighed and turned over, throwing his arm over the dog, his cheek against the sheepdog's side, the dog's heartbeat in his ear, and so he slept yet another hour or two as the Sun began her climb and dawn's roses faded from the sky.

Pippin stretched, snuggled into warm fur, and rubbed the sleep from his own eyes. He sat up suddenly, then, and took in his surroundings.

'Lop!' he said accusingly. 'Look at you!' He took hold of the frayed rope and brandished it before the wet, black nose. 'What have you done?'

The tail thumped harder, ingratiatingly, and a wet kiss landed on Pippin's nose and chin. He pushed the hairy face away, standing to his feet, and the dog scrambled to stand, towering over the lad, ready to begin the journey homewards.

'Bad dog!' he scolded. The furry ears flattened against the dog's head, and the dog narrowed his eyes, winking at the hobbit lad, his tail twitching in entreaty.

'You'll be in bad trouble for this,' Pippin said sternly. 'Chewing good rope! You're supposed to be resting today, so that you can go out with the flock tomorrow, and look at you! Traipsing halfway 'cross the Shire! What do you think you're about?' He fended off another tentative doggy-kiss and snapped out, 'Sit, Sir! Sit, I say!'

Lop sat, staring with adoring eyes at the lad. He loved Pippin second-best to working the sheep, and that was saying something. When the flock were in the near field, and no dogs were needed, he'd spend the day dogging the heels of the young hobbit, or lying at Pippin's feet, or acting as a pillow. Many were the childish secrets whispered into his ears, and he never told a soul.

Now, however, the young master was put out with him, and he hunched his shoulders and kept his ears flat against his head while awaiting developments. These were not long in coming.

'Go home!' Pippin ordered.

Lop hunched still more. He knew this command. Pippin used it when he was off with Merry, or Ferdi, or the both of them, and a dog was not wanted.

'Go!' Pippin repeated. 'Home!'

The dog scented the air and scanned the surroundings. He didn't see Merry, or Ferdi for that matter, and he didn't like the idea of leaving the lad alone, prey to any other wandering fox that might happen by, or stray dog, or badger, or any number of dangers.

'Lop!' Pippin said in his most threatening tone. Not knowing that he'd slept the night through, he thought it still afternoon. He stared at the angle of the sun, perplexed. 'I must have got turned around,' he muttered to himself. 'Still, it's not as late as I thought.' His attention going back to the dog, he said again, 'Go home, Lop! You're not wanted!'

With much persuasion, he was able to send Lop off... but not far off. The dog slunk away, only until the lad's scolding stopped when Pippin could no longer see him, and then Lop went to ground once more, keeping an eye out for danger. He didn't know where Merry and Ferdi were, but until one or both of them made an appearance, he was going to keep an eye on Pippin.

In the meantime, the lad picked up his bundle, wondering at the emptiness in his stomach. 'Must be nearly suppertime,' he said to himself. 'I certainly hope Bag End isn't far!' He shouldered the stick and began to march determinedly in the wrong direction.

Lop whined softly to himself, and keeping his belly low, just as if he were using plenty of "eye" to keep the sheep in line, he skulked after Pippin.

***

Ferdi didn't waken with the dawn, but continued sleeping into the morning. Ferdinand sat by his son's side, head nodding as he fought sleep.

He jerked awake at the touch of Healer Woodruff's hand, smelling bacon and eggs, toast and hot apple compote laced with cinnamon, and other good smells. 'Second breakfast,' the healer said, 'and a wash, I think.'

'What about you?' he said. 'You've sat through the night and into the morning as well.'

'It's a healer's lot,' Woodruff said. 'I'm used to going on little sleep. I make up for it between times, believe me.'

'Haven't had all that many "between times" lately, from what I hear,' Ferdinand said.

'The both of you, go on into the kitchen and have something to eat,' Esmeralda said from the doorway. Merry hovered behind her, carrying two plates of food, one for his mother and one for himself, to eat while sitting at watch. The rest of the family were gathered around the kitchen table, and it would be good for Woodruff and Ferdinand to sit at table with the rest, a respite during this quiet time while young Ferdi slept, a time to gather strength for when it might be needed, later. 'We'll watch for a while.'

Woodruff nodded and arose. It would help Merry to feel useful, even if there was nothing to be done. 'Come along, Dinny,' she said, tugging at Ferdinand's arm. 'You won't do young Ferdi any good if you neglect yourself.'

Reluctantly he rose from his chair to follow. As Esmeralda and her son settled on either side of the bed, Woodruff paused. 'If he wakens, call me at once,' she said, 'and don't give him anything to eat or drink.'

'Naught to eat or drink?' Esmeralda said in astonishment. 'But he's already missed tea, and supper, and early breakfast!'

'Nothing!' Woodruff said firmly. 'And be sure to call me.' She would not leave until she received their assurances.

Second breakfast was not the usual jolly affair. Paladin had not gone out to the fields to direct his hired hobbits; instead he'd issued orders to them in the yard, and they'd glumly gone to their work, not singing as usual, but sober, thinking of the bright young lad in the smial, whose light was flickering, perhaps to go out before the sun set on the day, if rumour was to be believed.

The family ate silently, and tears salted Pimpernel's and Pervinca's eggs, though no one remarked on this fact. After the meal, Woodruff poured a last mug of tea to take with her back to the bedroom. She had persuaded Ferdinand to lie himself down for a rest, whereafter he could take up his watch once more.

But rest was forgotten as an excited Merry appeared in the door. 'He's awake!' he said. 'He's hungry!' Ferdinand was up out of his chair and out of the kitchen before anyone could blink.

'You didn't give him any food!' Woodruff said, setting down her mug untasted and turning to the doorway in alarm.

'Not for want of him asking,' Merry said, 'though if I'd had any left on my plate I think he'd have snatched it! He says the smell is driving him to distraction, and he wants eggs, and...'

Eglantine had started to scoop scrambled eggs, keeping warm on the stove, onto a plate, but Woodruff held up her hand, saying, 'No!'

'No food?' Eglantine said, exchanging glances with her husband. Why, food was one of the first things the healer usually prescribed for a recovering hobbit.

'Not yet,' Woodruff said, and attempted a smile. 'You just keep that food covered, so it doesn't dry out while it's warming, and I'll bring him a plate myself, once I've taken a good look at the lad.'

Eglantine nodded, somewhat satisfied, and scraped the eggs back into the warming ceramic bowl, placing the plate on top to keep them moist.

When Woodruff reached the bedroom, she found Ferdi awake, his father preventing him from sitting upright, and arguing with him.

'...but I'm hungry!' the teen said plaintively. 'And...' he looked from Esmeralda to Woodruff in near-despair. It had been bad enough, having one hobbit mum there, but now the healer had joined the party. 'And...'

Ferdinand obligingly lowered his ear to his son's mouth. His face changed as he listened to the desperate whisper, his mouth forming an "O" of surprise, before his lips twitched into an understanding smile. Ah, but what a relief it was, to have his son awake, and asking for breakfast, and... wanting to take care of some private business.

'Shall I help him to the privy?' he said, rising to address Woodruff, while young Ferdi's pale cheeks flushed scarlet in his mortification.

'No!' Woodruff said. 'Not even the chamber pot, Dinny. I want him kept as flat as possible.'

'But...' Ferdi protested in a yelp. He tried to sit up, but found it too painful, and then his father was holding down his shoulders once more, preventing him from continued effort. He swallowed hard. 'But...' he said under his breath, and took a few shallow breaths before the urgency of the situation compelled him to complete the thought. He said just as low as he could, intended for his father's ears alone, '...but I've got to go!'

At any other time it might have been howlingly funny, but at the moment, Ferdinand just stared at Woodruff, perplexed.

'A bedpan,' she said briskly. 'I'll show you how it's done.'

Ferdi paled at this awful pronouncement, but he had no say in the matter. Woodruff sent Esmeralda and Merry, who'd returned and was hovering in the doorway, back to the kitchen, and she and Ferdinand proceeded to take care of business.

Not long after, the healer came to the kitchen in search of Paladin, her face grim.

'What is it?' Paladin said, starting up from his chair.

'I want to send a quick post rider to Bridgefields, to fetch the lad's mother,' Woodruff said.

Eglantine caught her breath, and Esmeralda steadied her as she swayed.

'Why, what is it?' Esmeralda echoed her brother's question, holding tight to Eglantine.

Woodruff took a deep breath and let it out again. 'He's passing blood,' she said. 'It's not a good sign.'

Esmeralda and Eglantine exchanged glances, and Pimpernel burst into fresh tears.

'I'll send you to your Grandmum's,' Eglantine said, turning to her middle daughter, even as Esmeralda grabbed at Merry, standing aghast by her side.

Pimpernel, with difficulty, controlled herself and caught at her mother's arm. 'No,' she said brokenly. 'Please don't send me away. Please don't... I told him I never wanted to see him again, and now...'

'Aw, lass,' Paladin said softly, moving to put a hand on Pimpernel's shoulder. 'It's not your doing...' She turned and flung her arms around her father, burying her face in his chest, and he held her, patting her back awkwardly, before looking to his wife. 'Let her stay,' he said.

Eglantine nodded slowly. 'And Pippin?' she said. 'Shall we send for him?'

Paladin shook his head. 'Too hard, for such a little lad,' he said. 'If his cousin's dying, well, there's naught he could do about it. He might as well stay in blissful ignorance, for as long as may be.' With one more pat for Pimpernel's back, he turned away, took his jacket and cap from the hook, and left the kitchen, to saddle his fastest pony for the ride to Whitwell, to send a quick post rider with the grim news.

Pimpernel turned to Woodruff. 'Is there no hope?' she asked tearfully. 'None at all?'

Woodruff attempted a smile. 'While there's breath, there's life,' she said, quoting the old Shire proverb. 'And if he's only bruised, inside, well, he might pass more blood at first, and less as the bruising heals...' She picked up her abandoned mug and took a long, steadying swig of the now cold, sweet, milky tea. 'But if it's worse than that, and his mother's not here...'

Esmeralda's breath caught in a sob, and she instinctively hugged her Merry to herself. The teen stood stunned at the suddenness of it all: joy turned to despair, and the blame that he had assumed, that had momentarily lifted in his thoughts, now fell heavily once more upon his shoulders.

***

Pippin and his hidden shadow had not gone far when a cheerful voice rang out, startling both of them. 'Well, well, what have we here?'

Lop stiffened and half-whirled, his lips wrinkled back from his teeth as a low growl vibrated in his throat, and stiff-legged he stalked in a direction that would put himself between the interloper and his lambkin.

Pippin, on the other hand, stood rooted to the spot, staring up--up--up to the face of the giant who'd come up to them from the side. He ought to have heard the Man crashing through the grass, except that he'd been singing a walking song to keep his spirits up in the face of his empty tummy. Next time he took himself a-wandering, he'd have to pack some food!

'What brings a hobbit and his dog into the middle of the Shire, with not a smial to be found nearby?' the Man said, crouching down.

Lop relaxed somewhat, and as the wind brought the Man's scent to him he began to wag his tail, very slightly. The Man's scent brought a feeling of friendliness, trustworthiness, and no hint of harm.

'I'm going to see Bilbo!' Pippin said confidently.

'Bilbo?' the Man said. 'The celebrated Bilbo, whose tales are known throughout the Shire?'

'That's the one!' Pippin said. 'He slew a dragon!'

Not quite, the Man thought to himself with a smile, but he said only, 'Ah, yes, I've heard the story of Bilbo and the Dragon. Very exciting!'

Pippin beamed. 'You're nice!' he pronounced, but then he frowned as Lop came out of hiding. 'Lop!' he scolded.

The Man held out his hand, and Lop applied his nose to the serious business of sniffing the stranger, measuring him in a dog's way. The small wag of his tail became a broader sweep before he sat before the Man and offered his paw.

Laughing, the Man shook hands with the dog, and releasing the paw he bowed to the dog and then to the very young hobbit. 'Robin son of Jack, at your service,' he said properly. It wasn't his real name, of course, but the name he used in the Shire. His real name sounded Outlandish, putting off the hobbits who provided his bread and butter, and so he'd adopted a name suited to Man or Hobbit, to ease his path.

'Pippin--Peregrin son of Paladin at yours, and your family's,' Pippin said with a bow of his own, remembering almost too late to use his "proper" name.

'It just so happens that I'm headed to Bywater Market,' Robin said, seating himself so that he wouldn't tower over the hobbit lad. Lop immediately lay down and laid his head on the Man's knee.

'He likes you,' Pippin observed.

'Dogs and children do, I find,' Robin said confidingly. He stroked the silky head. 'And I like them, as well. Not half so stuffy as grown-ups, I find, and more likely to take delight in my tricks.'

'Tricks?' Pippin said in wonder.

The Man laughed and while one hand rubbed at the dog's ears, his other reached out, taking something from Pippin's ear--which turned out to be a copper ha'penny! 'Are you in the habit of keeping your coppers in your ears?' he said, handing the coin to the lad.

'How did you do that?' Pippin said, his eyes wide.

Robin laughed again. 'Robin Tallfellow, wandering conjurer, at your service!' he said. 'I know all sorts of tricks and illusions, guaranteed to make you laugh or gasp in wonder.' He doffed his cap and put it on the ground between them. 'Just toss a coin in the hat and I'll show you a bit of magic!'

'Magic!' Pippin said excitedly, and Lop raised his head from the Man's knee to watch.

Pippin tossed the coin into the cap, and Robin took up the cap and put it back on his head.

'Where's the magic?' Pippin said.

Robin took the cap off, scratching his head as he did so. 'You didn't see any magic?' he asked. 'That's strange. I might have sworn...' He shook his head. 'Hmm. Guess the trick didn't work. I suppose you'll want your coin back...'

Pippin began to demur, but Robin held the cap out to him again and he reached politely, only to gasp. 'It's gone!'

'What?' Robin said, making a great show of looking into the cap. 'What, disappeared?'

'It is magic!' Pippin crowed in delight.

'Well what do you know?' Robin said, setting the cap back on his head, and then he added as if it were an afterthought, 'Say, as I'm going to Bywater, and you're going to see the celebrated Bilbo who lives not far from there, why don't we go together?' The empty fields were no place for a very young hobbit, although he did seem to have a guardian watching over him. One loyal dog might be no match for a pack of stray dogs, for example, and the local Shirriff had warned Robin to watch out for dogs, though he'd never met any to date that had offered him any harm.

'All right!' Pippin said. He took the hand Robin held out, and they began to walk, with Lop falling in beside them. On Robin's part it was rather more creeping along, to walk at the tiny hobbit's best pace and he had to walk slightly bent over, to continue holding the lad's hand.

Pippin stopped. 'Go home!' he said once more to the sheepdog.

Lop fawned and wagged, and the Man laughed. 'I don't think he's listening to you,' he said.

'He's listening, all right,' Pippin said. 'He's just not heeding.' He stared sternly at the dog that crouched before him, trying to make itself small but still eye-to-eye with him. 'You'll be in awful trouble, you will, chewing your rope and all.'

'So Bilbo's not "home" for you,' Robin said. 'Do your folk know you're out and about?'

Pippin shrugged. 'I've not been gone all that long,' he said. 'They probably haven't even missed me.'





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