Chapter 36. My Life's Breath is Failing

Ferdi lay in the bed, the bad leg raised, pulled straight with a rope that went through a pulley on the ceiling and down to a weighted bag. His hands were encased in dressings, and the Elven healers and sons of Elrond were doing something to the bad leg, though Pippin couldn't quite make it out.

'What are you doing to him?' Pippin whispered, and Elrohir looked up in surprise.

'We are applying a steady pull on his leg,' the son of Elrond replied calmly, 'to allow the bones to heal in the proper position. The leg will heal straight, and he'll use it again.'

Leotred said in wonder, 'A Shire healer would have taken the leg, with such damage.' He added to the Thain, 'They washed the wound with something, drenched it, actually, to rid it of infection, and then they put...'

Pippin saw something white and crawling, and his stomach heaved. 'Maggots!' he exclaimed.

'They're clean maggots,' Leotred defended. 'They'll take away any dead flesh and leave only the good, clean, living flesh to heal. I've never seen anything like it,' he said.

Pippin looked to where Elessar sat beside Ferdi's bed, one hand on the hobbit's arm, the other on Ferdi's forehead, his own head bowed in concentration.

'There is much fear and sorrow here,' he said. 'The physical injuries are serious, but I think we have dealt with them adequately, and he has a good chance of healing. His spirit, however...'

He looked to Frodo. 'Tell me what happened in the cave.'

'He... he told me to hide myself when he heard the ruffians coming,' Frodo began.

'Very wise.'

'I could not drag him behind the rocks,' Frodo added, his voice anguished.

Mayor Samwise put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, but could find no words.

'There was no time,' Elessar said gently, 'and with that leg... so, you hid.'

'I hid,' Frodo said unsteadily, 'and the ruffians came, and they...' he hid his face in his hands. 'No,' he whispered.

'Did they torture him?' the King asked quietly.

'Torture...?' Frodo said behind his hands.

'Did they hurt him, to try to get him to answer their questions?'

Frodo nodded.

'Did they break him?'

'Break him?' Pippin asked.

'Did he give them answers?'

'Yes... no...' Frodo said, slowly lowering his hands from his face. 'He gave them answers, but not the ones they were looking for.'

Lips thin with distaste at the questions he must ask, Elessar continued, 'Did he beg...?'

'Yes!' Frodo sobbed, breaking down completely. 'Yes, he resisted them as long as he could, though they hurt him dreadfully, but finally, he... he begged them to stop, but that only made them laugh harder, and they told him to beg for death, and he did, but they kept on...'

'O Frodo,' Sam breathed, taking his son in his arms, holding him as he sobbed out his horror and grief.

'They said they'd burn him alive,' Fastred added quietly. 'They took him to an old shed, propped him against the far wall, threw torches in and watched to see if he'd crawl out.'

'They said they'd throw him back in,' Frodo whispered from the shelter of his father's arms. 'They were laying wagers on the number of times he'd crawl out before the burning roof fell in on him.'

'And he heard all this?' Elessar asked.

'I do not know, I think he might've,' Frodo said, turning slightly to face the King. 'He was aware when they set the fire, at least.'

'He'd crawled nearly to the door of the shed when we pulled him out,' Fastred added.

The King laid a hand on the hobbit's forehead. 'He is burning with fever,' he said. 'His time is short, I think.' He sighed. 'I can understand, now, why there is such a mantle of darkness wrapped about him.'

Elladan brought the basin of steaming water close, and Elessar took two leaves from the pouch that hung from his neck, breathed upon them, and crushed them. Immediately a living fragrance stole through the room, lightening every heart. Even Frodo relaxed slightly in his father's arms, and breathed more deeply, thinking of warm spring days in the garden at home in Bag End. Elessar cast the leaves into the water, and then held the bowl before Ferdi's face.

The hobbit stirred and opened his eyes. 'Who's there?' he asked. 'Elessar?'

'It is I,' the King confirmed.

Ferdi's eyes were wide with wonder. 'I know now why they call you King,' he said.

'Do you?' Elessar smiled.

'Healing hands... But why do we sit in the dark?' Ferdi murmured. 'You might light a lamp, at least...'

The sons of Elrond started forward sharply, but the King held up a restraining hand.

'What do you see?' he asked gently, waving a hand before the hobbit's eyes... eyes that did not follow the movement.

'Why, nothing, of course,' Ferdi said. He lowered his voice. 'Have you put out the lamps that the others might sleep?'

'It is not dark,' Elessar answered.

'But it is!' Ferdi protested, trying to sit up against the restraining hands. 'Don't you see...?' The impact of his words struck him, and he sank back again, aghast.

'Ferdi?' Pippin asked.

'I... I don't see,' Ferdi said. 'That's it, isn't it?' His eyes had turned towards the Thain when Pippin spoke, but obviously did not find him. 'Pippin? Are you here?'

'I'm here, Ferdi,' Pippin said, striding forward.

'I'm walking alone in the dark, no one to hold my hand,' Ferdi mused. 'I can't even feel my hands,' he added.

Pippin gripped his arm. 'You can feel this, though, can you not?' he said urgently. 'You're not alone, Ferdi.'

'I have one leg left, I think,' Ferdi said quietly, as if listening to some tone chime deep inside himself. 'At least, I feel one. But my arms... are my hands gone, then?'

'Not gone, but injured...' Elrohir began.

'And my eyes will no longer greet the dawn,' Ferdi went on. 'All is darkness.' He sighed and repeated, 'Darkness.'

'Ferdi,' Pippin said, but his cousin turned to him, face filled with despairing wonder.

'Useless,' he said, 'I'm of no use to anyone, now; and all is darkness.' He took a shallow breath. 'Why didn't you just let the flames take me?'

'Ferdi,' Pippin said more urgently, but his cousin's next words stopped him.

'No,' Ferdi said, his tone final. 'There are no more words left to me. My tale is ended.' He turned his face away, then, and would not respond to anything more they said.

***

Merry sat quietly, one hand on Ferdi's arm, talking of old times. He was determined not to let this old friend from his childhood walk alone in the darkness, not even to his end.

'...and do you remember the time, your father was training ponies at Paladin's farm, and we came to visit? Pippin was just a toddler at the time I think... and you and I took it into our heads to walk to Tuckborough?' He smiled at the recollection.

'I remember we "borrowed" some fresh-baked tarts cooling on the windowsill, and took sharp sticks to ward off foxes, and went our merry way, whistling bravely, but when the tarts ran out, so did our nerve...'

Elladan and Elrohir worked quietly over the healing leg, speaking in low tones in their own tongue.

'I do not understand how they can choose death,' Elladan said. 'Their lives are so short as it is...'

'It is the gift of Eru,' Elrohir answered, 'and not to be scorned.'

'But...' Elladan said, troubled. He met his brother's eyes. 'Had you thought about... the choice?'

'I have,' Elrohir said calmly.

'And have you chosen?' Elladan pressed.

'There's time yet,' Elrohir answered. 'The last ship has not sailed.'

'Leave it to you to put off making a decision until the last minute,' his brother chided.

'Have you chosen?' Elrohir said in reply. Elladan was silent, and his brother chuckled. Merry looked up in surprise, and Elrohir inclined his head gravely. 'Forgive me, Master,' he said. 'I did not mean to interrupt your story.'

Merry nodded, and went back to his reminiscing, though Ferdibrand gave no sign of hearing.

***

Fastred was pleading with his brother, but Leotred shook his head sadly. 'Fas, he's turned his face to the wall. What would you have me do?'

'Talk to him,' Fastred said.

'Others far wiser than I have already tried. He says nothing. I do not even know if he hears them.'

Fastred shook his head in frustration. 'You found a dying merlin upon the moor and nursed it back to life, Leot. I think you could do almost anything, the way you have with healing.'

'I have sworn to do no harm,' Leotred said.

'What harm would there be?'

'I will not force him to take drink, or food, to prolong his life,' Leotred said stubbornly. 'If he continues to refuse...'

'What's the harm in talking? Talk to him, Leot. Please. Don't just let him slip away.'

'No harm in talking, I suppose,' Leotred said slowly. 'Even the Elves are still trying.'

***

Ferdi awakened to the sound of water trickling into a bowl, then a cool cloth was placed on his forehead. In spite of himself, he sighed.

'Does that feel better?' Leotred's voice came. When Ferdi did not answer, he said, 'O yes, I'd forgot, you've used your last word and there are none left.'

Ferdi felt the faintest stirring of annoyance, but it was really too much trouble, and so he let it go again.

'Would you care for a drink? You must be perishing of thirst by now,' Leotred said, and Ferdi felt his head lifted, a cup held to his lips. He turned his face away.

'No,' he said, faintly.

'Ah,' Leot said brightly. 'So you did have a word left. Perhaps more than one?'

'Just leave me,' Ferdi said.

'The way you left your father alone, all those years, eh?' Leot said. 'He was useless, too, arms and legs burned away in that fire. They should have just left him, would have saved all sorts of trouble... no need for you to visit him for hours each day, hold long conversations, feed his meals to him.'

'Curse you,' Ferdi whispered, to stop the flow of words.

'Is that the best you can do?' Leot said. 'I've had far worse flung at me, by folk worse off in the bargain.'

Ferdi heard Leotred shift in his chair, as if he were leaning forward. 'Fastred is beside himself, you know,' he said. 'He says it's like losing our father all over again.'

'I'm not his father,' Ferdi said.

'No, you're not, but you recklessly spent your friendship upon us, and you cannot expect us to sit by while you slip away like this...' He shifted again, and Ferdi heard the clink of spoon against bowl. Leotred went on, 'Because there are no more words on this page, you expect us to close the book without looking to see if there are any more pages?' The clinking sound came again.

'I know you like your breakfast hot, and this just came from the boil a few minutes ago, so let us hope you do not scald your tongue,' Leotred said. Ferdi heard the spoon stirring. 'Lovely porridge, laced with cream and honey, want to try a bit?'

The spoon touched his lips, and despite himself he opened his mouth to allow its entry, finding the food delicious after so many meals missed, swallowing it down without thinking.

'That's right,' Leotred said softly, 'and how about a sip of good tea to wash it down?' The cup was held to Ferdi's lips again, and he swallowed. With any luck, he'd choke to death, but no such good fortune was about to strike this moment, it seemed.

The Thain watched silently from the doorway as Leotred coaxed the entire bowlful of porridge, and most of the tea, into Ferdibrand, and then settled him to sleep.

'There, now,' Leotred said. 'And Mayor Sam's making his famous mushroom soup for elevenses, and Fastred's out hunting coneys for pie, so you'd better get used to eating again, for we're going to wave it under your nose until the delicious smell conquers your senses.'

Ferdi made no answer, simply shut his unseeing eyes and breathed deeply. A single tear traced its way down one cheek.

***

Pippin and Samwise entered later, with the promised soup.

'I don't want any,' Ferdi said before they reached the bed. That was an improvement; at least he was talking.

'You have to eat,' Pippin said.

'No,' Ferdi answered. 'No, I don't.'

'Elladan says that the leg is looking better already, and the hands...' Sam said.

'I cannot feel them,' Ferdi said. 'Curious, how alone it can make you feel.'

'You're not alone, Ferdi,' Pippin said.

'O yes,' Ferdi replied, in a distant tone. 'Quite. And it would be kind of you to leave me that way.'

Pippin was nearing his wits' end, and he said desperately, 'And what of your Nell? Will you leave her alone in her grief just as her first husband did? Do you remember how she nearly died when he did?'

Ferdi's face remained turned away, and after a few breaths he spoke. 'She's stronger now...' he said, but his voice sounded uncertain.

'She needs you, Ferdi, like a flower needs the light,' Pippin said. 'Your love keeps her green and growing.'

'It's dark, Pip,' Ferdi whispered. 'No light left.'

Pippin's hand tightened on his arm, fingers unconsciously digging in, and the chancellor yelped. 'It's not enough the ruffians hounded me to my end, but now you must torment me in my last hours?'

'These are not your last hours,' Pippin gritted. 'Fight, Ferdi. You are not dying.'

'Are you going to order me to stay?' the injured hobbit said, turning his head restlessly on the pillow. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. 'And what will you do if I disobey? Put me under the ban? Have me bound and blindfolded and carried over the Bounds... no, wait, that's been done already.'

Legolas had entered behind the others, and now he laid a slender hand on the chancellor's forehead, saying, 'Take some of my light, Ferdibrand. I offer it freely.'

Pippin had not even heard the Wood Elf come in, but now Legolas looked to him and said. 'Elessar wants to see you. I will watch.'

***

From original posting:

Notes to Readers:

The Muse is plugging along at Merlin. The wedding on the Far Downs is written, can you believe it? ...in rough draft, at least, so stay with us through these current difficulties, the reward is coming...

Thanks for the reviews! Very helpful, quite motivating.

PansyChubb, ah, yes, the world is full of irony, isn't it? What did the ruffians do to Ferdi? You know, the way I write, I try to have every detail in place before a word goes on the page. So if you could see inside my head, you'd see myriad details that never make it into the writing ('cause my stories would be ten times as long, or a hundred, for one thing, and nobody would read them, drowning in the details), just because I have to have a firm picture in my head before I can write. I do not want to write, specifically, what happened to Ferdi, as I take little pleasure in such graphic nastiness. Think about man's inhumanity to man, the tortures documented amongst the Japanese, Germans in their death camps, North Koreans, Afghans, Russians, Incas, Vietnamese, Apaches, Iraqis, US Cavalry (atrocities against Native Americans in the 1800s)... Just for starters: Think about your fingernails for a minute. Do I have to go into more detail than that?

FantasyFan, do you know, I look forward to your reviews? I usually seem to learn something new about a character or a layer underneath the visible skin of writing. You are a treasure!

Bookworm, not quite the same rush, but lots of angst in this chapter.

runaround, hmmm. There's a thought. The sons of Elrond might be getting bored, without so many orcs to hunt and all.

Aemilia Rose, elves are doing their best to help Ferdi. Now if he will just allow them to help. Stubborn, he is.

Look for a new chapter to this story, if ff.net agrees, in two days. Warning: we have entered rough waters, and more breakers are ahead!

Look for the newest chapter to "Flames", in case you are following that story, on the morrow. (Flames is finished, by the way, and I find the ending very satisfying even though I hated to end it!) Thank you for your patience.

Two more stories are in the works. Look for them here at ffnet in a week or two if all goes well. The first is called "Shire" and contains my take on the history behind the founding of the Shire (hopefully more interesting than your run-of-the-mill history book). The second is called "FirstBorn" and takes place couple of years after "Flames" closes, nearly halfway between "Flames" and "Down and Out". In addition, Dana keeps nagging at me to write a few more of the stories I've told her about, but there is only just so much time in the world... (keep nagging, Dana... with my memory, I might forget about Pip and the Master's seal, or the "get lost" story, or Cellie's spider, or...)