Chapter 7. In which a messenger is interrupted

The engineers surveyed the rock-fall overall by moonlight at first, while Healer Fennel set about laying and kindling a fire. ‘I’ll have something hot to drink just so soon as the water boils,’ he said to no one in particular, though his attention was on the Thain.

‘Just don’t watch the pot, then,’ Pippin said absently, rubbing his gloved hands together as he listened to the engineers’ soft talk. The breaths of the hobbits puffed out in clouds on the icy air, and frost glittered on the hills around them. At least the sky was clear, and they need endure no snow—or worse, ice—while “out in the elements”.

Everard nodded at something Dinny said, and turned to say, ‘It’s a right mess, it is, but it doesn’t appear at the moment as if any more will be coming down. We’re going to go up on the hillside now, just to have a closer look.’

‘Tolly, you and Flam,’ Pippin said, gesturing, ‘Clamber over the fall, do; ponies couldn’t manage here, but hobbits are sure-footed enough. When you get to Whittacres...’

Tolly nodded, turning his back to the healer’s fire as he catalogued the Thain’s orders. Of course it was rather like closing the barn door after the ponies had got out. Ferdi, seeing the fall blocking the track, would have turned back to Tookbank. If he'd gone back as far as Tookbank, in order to cross the stream at the ford and proceed with Farry on the north side of the water, through the trackless hills, he might as well have elected to take the Waymoot road with the lad. Lots of inns for stopping along the way, to warm up and feed a growing child, whose mother might fret otherwise.

Tolly, by himself, could make the four-hour ride from the Great Smials to Whitwell straight through, eating in the saddle if hunger assailed him; but he’d stopped twice, riding with Farry in tow, at the farms where Pippin had arranged meals and rest for his son.

It occurred to Tolly for the first time that having farmers watching out for his arrival was a way of keeping an eye on him. Was it merely for the benefit of Farry’s health and comfort, or had this all been a test on Pippin’s part? He shook his head to dispel such fancies.

He could hear the crackle of rising warmth behind him, now, but did not turn to warm his hands. He didn’t want to spoil his eyes for the work ahead. He had a lantern hanging from his belt, true, but he’d not light it unless he had to. In the time of the Troubles, when Tooks had gone out to lay traps for the ruffians, they’d worked by the light of moon and stars, and really, Tolly would rather have a general if dim idea of his surroundings, picking his way across the massive jumble of fallen rock, than a clear view of just the next step.

‘Aye,’ he said, when the Thain stopped talking. ‘We’ll manage. Come along, Flam.’

***

As Pippin watched the engineers, their lanterns winking bright, climbing the hillside, stopping and starting and stopping once more, he felt Sam nudge his elbow. ‘A spot of tea,’ the Mayor said.

Pippin took the cup, feeling the warmth of the scalding liquid even through his gloves, and he sipped gratefully. ‘Get yourself a cup as well, Sam,’ he said.

‘Mine’s cooling a bit,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t have a dragon’s mouth, that I can drink it just off the boil, not even with a dash of milk to cool it.’

Merry chuckled, holding his own cup without drinking, not quite yet. He didn’t fancy burning his tongue.

***

The two messengers were not far into the rock-fall when Tolly stumbled and went down with a muffled exclamation. Flam stopped, to allow him space to right himself, but the head of escort went eerily still, and so his companion, who'd been making his way a little behind and to the side, called softly, ‘Tolly? What is it? Did you hurt yourself?’

Tolly’s voice came back, shaking. ‘Light your lamp, Flam!’

Flamismond fumbled a striker out of his pocket. ‘Did you hurt yourself, Tolly? Shall I call Fennel?’

But Tolly, caught in the grip of horror, returned no answer. He’d tripped on something soft, something yielding, and gone down atop it, belatedly realising that he’d stepped in something cold and sticky just before stumbling.

There was cloth beneath his hands, hobbit’s legs, he realised, and he hastened to roll to the side, feeling his way towards the head, finding more stickiness when he reached the hobbit’s neck, and cold, clammy flesh, and then sickness took him in the pit of his stomach and he turned aside once more to retch.

‘Tolly!’ Flam said, mentally cursing the uncooperative lantern. The first striker had died without having any impact on the wick. He raised his voice. ‘Fennel!’

***

Pippin’s head jerked up at the call, as the healer rose hastily from his fire. Two other fires had sprung up nearby, for the benefit of the waiting archers.

And then Tolly’s voice came, thin and shrill, so unlike his usual measured tones as to be unrecognisable. ‘Thain!’

At the same time there was a sharp call from the engineers on the hillside. ‘Thain Peregrin!’

‘It seems I must split myself in twain,’ Pippin said, draining his tea and handing the cup to Sam.

‘You go to Tolly,’ Merry said. ‘It sounds as if he’s been injured. I’ll see what Ev’ard wants.’

‘I’ll just tag along,’ Sam said, putting his and Pippin’s cups down on a convenient flat-topped rock, ‘just as I always do.’

‘Going to split yourself in half, then?’ Pippin remarked as he began to pick his way. ‘Be sure and teach me the trick one of these days, will you, Samwise?’

***

‘Here’s a lantern, sir,’ one of the Tookish archers said, following Merry as he toiled upwards.

‘Thanks, Len,’ he said. A backwards glance showed him that Fennel, the healer, had come to the same conclusion about Tolly, and was scrambling after Pippin and Sam with a lighted lantern. Just then another light sprang up where Tolly was, and Merry could see, amid the jumble, that one of the messengers was down, before the light wavered, the other messenger putting the lantern down with obvious, fumbling haste before turning away, bending double... being sick?

Merry turned back, not liking the conclusions to which his mind was leaping, only to hear a further hail from the engineers. ‘Sir! You must see this! Sir!’

Very well then, he’d let Pippin and Sam deal with Tolly’s crisis. He’d see what was so very urgent in what Ev’ard and Dinny had found. On the other hand, with Pippin and Sam picking their way into the path of the rock-fall...

‘Ev’ard!’ he cried. ‘Is the hillside stable? Is it safe?’

Everard called back, much more cautiously. ‘Don’t shout!’

Merry stepped out of the circle of lantern light as Len froze behind him, and stubbed his shins on a protruding rock. ‘Will a shout bring more of it down?’ he called, modulating his tone so that it was just enough to reach the engineers where they stood.

‘Will you stop asking stupid questions?’ Everard snapped. Tooks as a rule were shorter of temper than most Shire-folk, but Ev’ard topped most of the Tooks, in a manner of speaking.

‘It wasn’t a stupid question,’ Merry muttered to himself, and a little louder, he said to the Tookish archer behind him who shared his unease about the sureness of the ground they stood upon, ‘Come along, Len! Either hand me the lantern or step forward to light my path, but do something, fellow!’

Merry forgot his irritation, however, when he reached the engineers, who stood with the light of their lanterns directed at the ground.

There he saw clearly a sight he’d not seen for years, unless travelling outside the Shire, and certainly only rarely had he seen such within the Bounds of the Shire since Elessar had issued his Edict.

It was the mark of a boot, and not of a size that a Bucklander might leave--for there were still hobbits in Buckland who wore boots on occasion, one of the reasons the rest of the Shire-folk looked at Bucklanders askance.

No, the mark was made by a foot quite a lot larger than a hobbit’s foot, even a booted hobbit.

‘It’s clear: There were other marks that were wiped away, but they were careless and missed this one,’ Everard was saying.

Merry felt something being fumbled into his hand; he took it without thinking, looking down to see he was holding the lantern. ‘Len?’

Turning, he saw the Tookish archer had already strung his bow, and held an arrow in his hand.