Chapter 32. In which a Took remembers past troubles

Pimpernel awakened to a plucking sensation, and opening her eyes, she saw that Ferdibrand was fumbling at her sleeve, mute and—though if he had all his faculties intact, he’d never admit to such—frightened.

‘My love,’ she said, turning over to embrace him. ‘All is well.’

He shook his head, wincing at the pain that movement engendered, gesturing feebly.

And then motion from the corner of the room distracted them both, and Rosamunda, who’d stayed to watch over Ferdi while Nell slept, was there.

‘Here, now,’ the healer said smoothly, easing the injured hobbit against the pillows. ‘Let me see what the trouble seems to be.’

I cannot talk, that’s the trouble—are ye blind? Both Nell and Rosa could read the sentiment in Ferdi’s expression, so plainly that Rosamunda smiled faintly.

‘Yes,’ she said, answering the look. ‘Well, Ferdi, you’ve been through this sort of thing before—sad to say—and so you know, already, that coming a cropper is not all there is to it. There’s the swelling inside your head to deal with, and that may take some time to resolve.’

Ferdi closed his eyes in irritation at this healer-talk, and Rosa and Nell shared a look, over his prostrate form. Rosa still smiled, encouragingly, but was that a hint of warning in her eyes?

And then the healer’s fingers were gently going over Ferdi’s head once more, though what might have changed since Mardi’s examination was beyond Nell’s ken. And Rosa ordered Ferdi to open his eyes—he did so with marked reluctance—and Nell brought the lamp close and moved it away again, several times at Rosa’s direction. Then the healer pulled the coverlet back to test Ferdi’s reflexes, and sat back with a sigh.

‘Everything’s working pretty much as it ought,’ she said.

From Ferdi’s expression, he was thinking, As it ought? Are ye daft?

Rosa patted Ferdi on the shoulder. ‘No, Ferdi, I’m not daft,’ she answered the unspoken thought. ‘And if this is the worst of it, then you won’t be packing off to the Feast, as Mardi feared,’ she shook a finger in his face, ‘though it was a close thing, and you owe your Nell a great many nosegays and sweets for giving her such a fright!’

Pimpernel soothed Ferdi’s hand as he turned a stricken face toward her. Rosamunda continued, after a pause, ‘We can hope with time—a few days, even—that this will pass off. You’ve rattled your brains but thoroughly, and they’ll need some time to settle back into place and begin working once more—that is to say, if they ever worked in the first place!’

And at this subtle piece of cousinly abuse, Ferdi relaxed, and some of the fear left his eyes.

‘There now,’ Rosamunda said with another pat. ‘That’s better. And we’ll have something to eat, and to drink, and things will look brighter, yet.’

Ferdi rolled his eyes at the healers’ “we” and Nell almost laughed. It seemed that, muteness aside, her husband was on the mend.

‘Well,’ Rosmunda said briskly, turning to the door, to summon the promised meal, ‘I guess we’ll have some peace and quiet around here, for a change! Enjoy it while it lasts, Nell! You’ll have your husband talking your ear off again before you know it!’

Pimpernel leaned close, to murmur in Ferdi’s ear, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’ And then she added, ‘but there’s much we can do without needing words at all...’ and she kissed her beloved deeply, and then snuggled against him, and felt him sigh as his arms went around her, and some of the tension went out of him. ‘My love,’ she said happily, and the responding squeeze said, quite simply, My Nell.

***

‘They have child-stealing in the Southlands, you know,’ Sam said conversationally, as they walked along, between the laden ponies, as if to give the captive ruffians company on the journey to the Bounds.

They might as well be riding, Tolly thought, and get all this over with as quickly as possible, but the Mayor seemed to be in no hurry.

‘Do they?’ he said, when it seemed that a response was expected. Mayor Sam was not a Took, but the Thain held him in high regard, and he had, after all, been involved in throwing the ruffians out of the Shire, back during the time of the Troubles. He’d been a far-traveller, as well, to outlandish places and back again with Thain and Master and that Baggins cousin, but that sort of thing counted against him in Tolly’s opinion.

‘They do,’ Sam said, ‘as you well know, Tolly, for I know that your master has told you of such things. Child-stealing is one of the things that still gives him nightmares, I think.’

‘How would you know?’ Tolly blurted, and then he turned red. He was not much good at chit-chat.

Sam chuckled. ‘Believe it or not, Tolly,’ he said, ‘He visits Bag End, or I come to the Great Smials, and we talk of such things, as well as of the business of the Shire. Tooks and talk go together like tea and cakes, you know.’

Tolly gave a soft snort, but the Mayor was going on.

‘I know,’ Sam said, ‘because I picked up one of their “tokens”, that had been dropped in the marketplace in Minas Tirith.’

Tolly shuddered.

‘Exactly,’ Sam said, looking from one ruffian to the other. He’d arranged Red’s disposition over his pony so that the ruffians’ heads could practically conk each other, if the ponies walked too closely.

Tolly had wondered at that; giving the ruffians a chance to scheme, to plot an escape? But of course, with two hobbits walking between them, the red-headed ruffian and the brawny man hadn’t had a chance to say a word. Tolly was relieved, frankly, that he was spared any further hints on the brawny ruffian’s part. He had no intention of letting the Man go free.

‘I opened it up,’ Sam said, ‘thinking someone had dropped some of their shopping. I hoped, you see, to take it back to the merchant who’d sold it, in the event he or she might remember the buyer. I read the note, but it made no sense to me, and so I pulled out the contents of the bag—a goatskin bag, they seem to favour those for some reason, perhaps because they’re dark in colour and don’t let liquid seep through. Imagine my surprise...’

‘I can imagine,’ Tolly said hastily.

Sam’s lips tightened in a mirthless grin. He’d been more than surprised; he’d shoved the contents back into the bag, closed his fist around the bag’s throat, and instantly lost his first and second breakfasts in reaction, while Pippin bent over him, sick with concern. And Bergil, who’d been walking the market with himself and Pippin, had run, shouting, and then the guardsmen had come, and then the King.

‘I learnt more of child-stealing than perhaps even our Thain,’ Sam said, measuring his words. ‘You see, I had a little talk with the King, after things calmed down. I wanted to understand what sort of Men would do such a thing, and how they could even be, if you take my meaning, after the Ring went into the Fire and Shadow was banished. I wanted to know if it had all been for naught—our walking across Mordor, that is, and crawling up the ash-covered slopes of Mount Doom—a thousand thousand times worse than the destruction you saw after Hoard Hill blew, and no mistake.’

The brawny man, hearing this, broke in. ‘Sir? My lord?’

‘No need to “my lord” me, or Tolly here, either,’ Sam said in reply. ‘We’re just plain folk.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Tolly said before he thought, but the Mayor only laughed.

‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘You’re a Took, and Tooks are hardly “plain folk”.’ And then to the ruffian. ‘So, you wanted something? Did you need a drink of water, perhaps?’

‘My mouth is dry,’ the brawny man admitted in a rasp, and cleared his throat. The red-headed ruffian’s mouth was dry as well, but he remained stubbornly silent. ‘But that’s not what I wanted to ask.’

‘Well if you wanted to ask if you could stretch your legs, I’m afraid that’s not something we can manage,’ Sam said. ‘You’ll be tied to that pony from here to the Bounds, and if Nature happens to knock upon your door, so to speak, it’ll just be too bad. So I wouldn’t drink too much if I were you, if you take my meaning.’

The brawny man shook his head, difficult as it was for a man in his position. ‘I just wanted to know,’ he said, and hesitated. This humble-speaking hobbit, walking beside him... how could it be? But if he were ever to satisfy his curiosity to know, now was better than later, it seemed. And perhaps the knowledge he’d gain could yet be used to his advantage. ‘You said you walked across Mordor? And crawled up the slopes of Mount Doom?’

‘Not one of my fondest memories,’ Sam said. ‘But so my master and I did, once upon a time.’

‘Then,’ the brawny man said in awe, ‘You’re the Ring-bearer! My lord!’

‘I’m not your lord, or anybody’s,’ Sam said.

‘But you’re the Ring-bearer!’ the brawny man insisted.

Tolly looked at Sam in surprise. He knew a little bit of what had transpired in the outlands, but that this Man knew surprised him, and more astonishing was the reverent tone the ruffian had adopted...

‘Only for a little while,’ Sam said. ‘Because there was no other choice. But it was only for the littlest while. I’m not really the Ring-bearer, if you take my meaning.’

‘But...’ the brawny man said, ‘then you understand about mercy. They say it was mercy that brought the Ring to the Fire. Please...’ he said. ‘Have mercy! I had nothing to do with it! They forced me...’

He was thankful that Red said nothing to the contrary. Perhaps the fat man’s brother hoped that the brawny man, once he won free, would rescue him as well. Fat chance of that. The brawny man’s loyalty had been to the fat man, and he’d barely tolerated Red, and only because it was a necessary part of the partnership.

‘Seems to me you’ve had your portion of mercy from the Ring-bearer already,’ Tolly said unexpectedly.

‘I did?’ the brawny man said.

‘He did?’ Sam said at the same time.

‘My cousin, Frodo,’ Tolly said to the ruffian. ‘I had you, dead to rights, my arrow ready to skewer your heart, and Frodo jerked at my arm to spoil my aim.’ To Sam he said, ‘At the Battle of Bywater, it was.’

‘Ah,’ Sam nodded, understanding, and then said, ‘You know this Man?’

‘See the mark on his hand,’ Tolly said, and, ‘I saw that, when I lowered my bow, and I made a study of his face, I did, that if he should ever show his face in the Shire again... I’m not quite so forgiving as my cousin Frodo was.’

The brawny man shivered, remembering the hobbit archer’s stony regard, even though it had been years ago, now. But he’d remembered. If looks could kill...