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A Healer's Tale  by Lindelea

Chapter 44. Interlude

Some time later Sandy peeps in. 'The Thain's breakfast...' he murmurs. Though his face is characteristically bland, his eyes shine with hope.

I nod with a smile. Evidently, though I have heard nothing but the Thain's soft breathing, a plate is now keeping warm in the little sitting room, ready for me to fetch at a moment's notice should Pippin show any signs of wakening. 'Very good, Sandy,' I whisper. 'Go on about your duties; I'm sure there's a great deal to be done before the feast.'

The hobbitservant nods and withdraws. At one point he glides into the room to refresh the water in the ewer, to lay a pristine bar of soap upon a flannel, to hang up a fresh towel. The Thain will be wakening, after all, for the Healer has said it would be so. Though Diamond is practically a Brandybuck, for her love of water--that is, water hot within the confines of a tub--Pippin prefers, on rising, to wash and dress quickly, to jump into the day. Or at least, he used to...

Fennel stops in to apprise me of happenings in the infirmary. I am not at all pleased by his assessment of the Thain's situation. He seems to think the Ent-draught has plunged Pippin into a deep sleep, from which he'll pass quietly, dreaming, into death. 'At least it has brought him a peaceful end, after the storm,' he says gloomily, staring down into the quiet face.

'It has brought him healing,' I insist, but he only shakes his head sadly. 'You've not let your opinions be aired in the tunnels of the Smials?' I say in alarm.

'I know better,' he says, straightening, and reassured, I nod.

'I certainly hope you do,' I say.

Fennel takes his leave as Diamond comes in to say the twins are asleep and Farry is at his riding lesson, though he would have preferred to be at his father's side. 'I must make ready for the feast,' she says, sitting down a moment on the bed and brushing a wayward lock from the smooth and peaceful forehead. Belying her words, she sighs and lays her head beside her husband's.

 'Yes, you must,' I affirm, and rise from my chair. No healers, I remind myself. I will go and order a bath for the Mistress... eventually... and until then they will have some quiet and peaceful time alone together.

Sandy has laid out an enormous tea on the sideboard of the little sitting room. I don't know what he thinks he's about, for surely one healer cannot manage even a tithe of the food on the platters. Perhaps he thinks the Thain will awaken ravenous, from his long fast, and devour the whole. I fill a plate for myself, sandwiches to start, I think, and teacakes to follow. I pour a cup of tea from the pot on its warmer, and sit down for a leisurely meal.

And so the time passes. When Farry's lessons are finished, he returns to take tea and then to bathe for the feast (though I'm sure he'd rather take the tea and leave the bathing). The twins awaken and are brought to their mother to take tea with her--how sweet their little voices, as they so earnestly try to "hush" for their da's sake. And I peep in to see the Thain smiling in his sleep to hear them, but he does not waken.

Master Merry comes in--I hear his brisk step approaching the little sitting room, but seeing me taking my tea at the table there, he stops. 'Has he wakened?' he says eagerly, craning beyond me to the shadowy bedroom beyond.

'He is peacefully sleeping,' I say.

'Resting comfortably?' he counters, one corner of his mouth lifting wryly.

'I should hope so,' I say, 'but peacefully sleeping at the least. I haven't heard so much as a murmur.' Our Thain talks in his sleep, but I've heard nothing from the bedroom for some time. I take a sip from my cup and rise, walking softly to the bedroom doorway. I smile at the sight. Diamond and the twins have fallen asleep, the whole family (even Farry, who is fresh from the bath) cuddled together much as they were yesterday at this time, their soft breathing mingled in the resting silence.

I do not hear Merry come up behind me, but I feel his hand rest on my shoulder as he looks in. 'You see?' I whisper. 'All is well.' I turn from the doorway, pushing him before me. 'Have you had your tea?' I say.

He shakes his head, and so I make him sit himself down, and I serve him and stand over him until he picks up the serviette, shakes it out and puts it in his lap. 'The food will go better if you sit with me rather than stand over me,' he says, and I nod and take my place, and third helpings.

Merry is halfway through eating when the Mayor appears, looking much the worse for wear. I know that he slept, under the draught, but the sleep was evidently not peaceful. I lead him to the bedroom door, let him gaze upon the sweetly sleeping little group, and lead him to the table. 'Tea,' I say firmly, and I will not take "No" for an answer.

Merry talks quietly, encouragingly, but Samwise, stubborn hobbit that he is, will take no comfort. He'll admit, at least, that the Thain has not died as expected, but it is clear that it will be a long time before he forgives himself for being the agent of last night's torment. Pippin knows how to talk him round, and I can only hope I am right, and the Thain will waken again, and not simply slip away in his sleep, as Fennel thinks he will.

Merry and I ply Sam with food and tea, but it is a relief to me, at last, to send them both off. 'It would be a shame for the Mayor to be late for his own welcoming feast!' I say.

No sooner are they gone but Diamond and Farry emerge, each bearing one of the twins. Farry is arguing with his mother in a whisper--he does not want to go to the feast. He wants to stay by his father's side.

'Me 'tay!' little Merigrin lisps, and Diamond says to her oldest, 'Now see what you've done! Of course we must be at the feast, to welcome Mayor Sam and Mistress Rose back again! They've been gone a year, and we must not neglect...'

I know that fretful tone; it is common in a mother expecting who has gone too long without eating, and so I take Merigrin from his mother and guide Diamond to the table, blessing Sandy for the enormous tea he had laid out. Somehow he has anticipated any number of hobbits and their particular likings--apple tarts for Master Merry, currant scones for the Mayor, the cream scones that the Mistress favours, sweet-cheese-mixed-with-jam for the twins, not to mention the sandwiches with cold chicken or potted ham or cheese and bacon or cucumbers or any number of other fillings. There is even seedcake, beloved of the Thain, a silent testimony to the hobbit's faith in his master's recovery. 'Eat, Mistress,' I say.

Farry and I take care of the twins' nappies and bring them back to the little sitting room, dry and freshly clad. I balance Merigrin on my hip and fill a plate for him, choosing each item as he points to it, and then I sit down at table with the tot in my lap and enjoy watching him feast. Farry does the same with his little sister.

Diamond eats heartily, and I smile to see her appetite, and good temper, restored. She, too, is feeling hopeful.

Sandy enters to say that the Mistress' bath is ready, and Farry takes the twins off to play until it is time to take them to the feast. Sandy raises his eyebrow at me as if to say someone ought to be sitting at the Thain's bedside, and I smile sweetly.

'Yes, really, Woodruff, if you'd sit with him for me,' Diamond says, echoing the hobbitservant's unspoken thought.

The Thain has made it clear over the years that the least desire expressed by the Mistress is to be granted. Diamond's request for me to sit with Pippin comes from higher authority, so far as Pippin is concerned, than his request to be left alone. And so I smile and say, 'Of course, Mistress.'

Pippin has moved down in the bed so that he is no longer propped with pillows, and he has turned so that he is sleeping on his side, and yet his breathing continues deep and even.

Rather than perching on one of the watchers' chairs beside the bed, I settle in the comfortable overstuffed chair in the corner of the room, drawing the footrest conveniently near, putting my feet up and my head back. If he wakens and speaks, I'll hear him at once. I shall just close my eyes for a moment...

I waken to a murmur, and am immediately alert, though looking to the bed I see Merry sitting there, bent forward, talking to Pippin. He is talking over serious matters with his cousin... and Pippin is still asleep, I see. I settle back, not wanting to disturb the Master. I would get up and leave, but for the look on Merry's face. He is wrestling with some difficult issue... He has not even noticed me here, in the shadowy corner, and I do not wish to embarrass him by getting up and revealing my presence.

'...Sandy seems hopeful, and Diamond is calm--but she's been calm through all, Pippin, she's been a brick, standing solid though the mortar was crumbling all round. But Fennel... I had it out of him, why he was looking so... sombre. And if Fennel and Woodruff feel this way, and healers they are, knowing more of hobbits and healing than I; I'm no healer... And so... has it all been for naught?'

I nearly speak then, but am galvanized to hear Pippin speak.

'All for naught, Merry? Of course it is not naught. Or naught not. Or something to that effect...' He yawns widely and turns over on the pillow, to face his cousin, though his eyes close again as he gives a sigh.

Merry leans forward eagerly. 'Pippin?' he says, clutching at the hand he holds as a drowning hobbit might.

Pippin's eyes remain closed, and he says, 'I am so very sleepy, cousin. Just five more minutes, I implore you...'

Merry's eyes are brimming, but he smiles. 'Just as at Crickhollow,' he says, 'when I'd try to roust you out of your bed of a beautiful dawning.'

Pippin opens his eyes again, to say, 'You're not going to roll me out of the bed, are you, Cousin?' And he yawns widely once more.

Merry says, stumbling a little over the words, 'You... you sound quite yourself...'

'I'd like to know who else I'd be,' Pippin responds. He blinks and stares into Merry's face. 'So what is it you've done this time?'

It is Merry's turn to blink. 'Done?' he whispers.

'Or rather, not done,' Pippin says. 'You've that look about you.' He hikes himself up on his elbows, and Merry hastens to prop the pillows behind him, muttering that he ought to go and fetch Diamond.

'No you don't,' Pippin says, catching him by the sleeve. 'What is it you're kicking yourself over?' He squints sternly at his older cousin, and Merry, unable to disengage his grasp, sinks back into the watcher's chair, protesting that there's nothing, and it's all nonsense...

'You stayed away,' Pippin says at last, and I can see the arrow strike home. Merry stiffens, takes a sharp breath, and sits as if turned to stone.

'You stayed away,' Pippin says, sitting up a little more, staring at his cousin. 'You silly Brandybuck, did you think you'd keep me in the world a little longer, waiting to say good-bye?'

Merry swallows hard, but he is a hobbit of courage, though he'd never say so himself. 'I...' he says. 'I had the thought. I was relieved when the call came, to go to Buckland, truth be told...'

'How is Berilac, anyhow?' Pippin says, wandering for the moment.

'He has a good chance,' Merry said. 'It appears he's more stubborn than a bull.'

'I could have told you that,' Pippin says, and then brings himself back from the side trail, for it's evident that Merry is not about to leash his younger cousin's straying thoughts. 'You had the thought that I'd live longer, since I'd promised to wait for your return.'

Merry shakes his head, and I see the pent-up tears spill. He wipes at his eyes impatiently and says, 'I had the thought, yes, but I had little hope that you'd still be here on my return...'

'How little faith you have in me,' Pippin says in a light tone, but as Merry tries again to pull away, he recaptures his cousin's hand and gives it a pat. 'Steady, cousin,' he says, in the same tone he'd use to calm a startled pony.

'I knew, you were so very close to parting the curtain, to passing through, that when you once more saw my face or heard my voice, you would let go...' Merry says, the words wrung from him.

'And so you sent Sam in first,' Pippin says, in growing understanding. 'You knew I was but a breath away from dying, for they were already singing the song, and yet you gave up your chance for a last word...'

Merry bows his head.

Pippin yawns again, and I can see that he is fighting to stay awake, but his body is slowing, not answering to his will. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and he has difficulty suppressing a series of yawns, almost as if he's been given a sleeping draught.

'But don't you see, Merry?' he says at last, settling into the pillows without really noticing that sleep is encroaching. Merry's head remains bowed, and Pippin's hold on his hand tightens. 'Do you not see?' he says again, and adds, 'I owe you my life... once again.' His sleepy eyes open wide for a brief moment, filled with wonder. 'I wouldn't be here,' he continues, 'if you had not sent Sam in first, do you realise? I was holding on with all I had, but my grip was slipping. The dark waters were rising about me, and I could do nothing to keep from drowning. I was so very weary, Merry, so very weary...' Another yawn splits his face, and he says in an undertone, 'So very weary... I want nothing more than to close my eyes again.'

I see him fight to keep his eyes open; a losing battle, I think.

'Then sleep, cousin,' Merry says, finding his tongue, but Pippin is not yet finished.

'...so very weary,' he insists, 'and waiting only for sight or sound of you, to fulfil my last promise to you, that I might rest at last.'

'It nearly killed me to send Sam in before me,' Merry says, so low it is difficult to make out the words. 'They were singing the song when we arrived,' he added. 'I knew if you weren't already gone, that you would be at any moment. Sam told me he bore a special draught from Treebeard, and I remembered the feeling of Ent-draught, the life, the growing, and I hoped for the first time in years that perhaps in truth he bore your healing...'

'Ah, Merry,' Pippin breathes, his eyelids closing despite his best efforts. He pulls his cousin's right hand to his face, brushing his lips against Merry's knuckles in a benediction before releasing the hand. 'You know that even if we missed our final goodbye in this life, I'd be waiting for you, saving you a place right beside me at the Feast...' His voice trails off into an indistinguishable murmur, and then he begins to snore lightly.

Merry's head remains bowed for a long moment, but at Diamond's voice he jerks upright.

'Merry? Are you not going to the feast?'






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