Chapter 16. Sick as a Dog

Renilard wakened to a curious sound, one he hadn’t heard in years... not since the children had grown and married and removed to holes of their own, that is. It sounded suspiciously like his wife, humming a lullaby.

Yer ol’ da’s gone a hunting.
He’s gone to find a soft rabbit skin
To wrap a baby fauntling in,
By-o...

Though a part of him simply wanted to go back to sleep, he forced an eyelid open to see if his eldest daughter might be there, rocking the new grandbabe.

‘Renny!’ Soft, but bright with joy and relief, and there was his wife’s face leaning over him.

‘Annie,’ he whispered, and coughed a little at the dryness of his mouth.

‘Here, now, laddie,’ Anise said, more gently than he’d heard her speak in a long time. And then she was lifting his head, as if he couldn’t lift it himself, and holding a cup to his lips. Water, it was, and he gulped thirstily, heedless of the bitter tang.

‘Fever’s broken,’ and here was Buttercup, one of Woodruff’s assistants, kneeling down beside them—for Renny felt the hardness of solid floor under him. He might have thought himself sleeping under the stars, save that a whitewashed ceiling curved above him.

No, Annie, don’t tell them... he heard as his wife eased his head back down onto its soft cushion. Turning his head to the side, he saw Meadowsweet sitting on the floor, speaking soft, soothing words to her husband.

‘The fever,’ Renilard said.

‘Aye,’ Buttercup answered. ‘A goodly part of the Smials has been swept with it, mostly hobbits who went out on the muster, two days riding in the chill, without sleep, and the good farmer and his elder son as well.’

‘You and Tolly and Adel, to start,’ Anise nodded. ‘Six of you, and two of Aster's family, laid out before the hearth. Warmest part of the smial, for there’s no fires in the bedrooms.’

‘We allus meant to dig the smial a little deeper into the hill, build more hearths,’ a hobbit mum bearing a tray of steaming mugs said apologetically. ‘What with working the farm and all, we just never had the chance. And it doesn’t seem so very bad, snuggled up in a featherbed with plenty of covers.’

‘But not all that cosy for sitting,’ Anise said, and to soften what might seem to be criticism she added, ‘but we thank you for all your hospitality!’

The hobbit mum chuckled at that, shaking her head wearily. ‘Hospitality,’ she echoed. ‘Making up beds before the fire, and cooking up the victuals the Thain was so kind as to send...’

‘Well, with all these extra mouths to feed,’ Anise said stoutly, and took a mug, from the tray the hobbit mum extended, with a word of thanks. ‘Come now, Renny,’ she said, turning her attention to her husband. ‘We’ll sit you up again, and get some of this good beef tea into you.’

‘And yourself, missus?’ the hobbit mum said, moving to Meadowsweet. ‘Shall we see if we can get some of this good sustaining stuff into your husband?’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Aster,’ Meadowsweet said, taking a mug. She immediately began coaxing Tolly to take a sip, though he didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes, half open, looked on some other scene, and he whispered again, some nonsensical warning.

‘Come, Tolly,’ Meadowsweet said.

‘He was taken before I was,’ Renilard said, allowing himself to be propped up by the healer’s assistant, though he ached in every muscle, and felt as weak as a kitten. The beef tea was hot and heartening, however. ‘He’s still fevered?’

‘The fever can last from three to five days, for most, or so we’re finding,’ Buttercup said, folding the blanket down to seize Renilard’s wrist in her hand. She settled beside him, counting silently, while Anise held the mug for her husband to sip and spoke inconsequentialities in her relief, about the grandchild’s birthday, several months away, and ought they to picnic on the meadow or climb the great hill to bask in the sunshine at the top?

‘How long,’ Renny said at last, when he could get a word in edgewise, for he’d been watching Meadowsweet and Tolly. ‘How long was I out of my head?’ For he had only brief snatches of impressions, of the past hours... days? ...of being laid before the hearth, of a splitting head and cool cloths, being urged to sip sweetened bitter coolness from a mug, his head spinning when they propped him to drink, of wild dreams, confusing noises, swirling colours, nightmares of hunts gone wrong and being lost in thick fogs, and ruffians...

‘Well, now, Renny,’ Anise said. ‘Don’t trouble your head about none of that. Your fever’s broken now, and...’

‘But Tolly wasn’t fevered when we found him here,’ he protested. ‘Why’s he still laid so low?’

‘The chill of the water cooled the fires, some,’ Buttercup said, laying his wrist down again and tucking the blanket chinward. ‘But the fever returned, and a stubborn fever it is, too. He’s been out of his head since... The Thain’s come every day to sit with him, a bit, and...’

‘Thain Peregrin, not down with the fever?’ Renilard said, relaxing into his blankets.

‘Not for want of trying,’ Buttercup muttered. ‘Don’t know how he manages, what with the muster, and riding to the Bridge and back.’

‘He makes me feel tired,’ Anise whispered, with a wink for her husband. ‘So much spirit, that hobbit has! Why, getting his son back from the ruffians has waked him up, it has! And not a cough or wheeze to be heard from him.’

‘And a good thing, too,’ Buttercup said with a nod. ‘Healer Woodruff's been ill enough, without having to rise from her sickbed to chase down the Thain and tie him to his bed!’

‘Word is, he wanted to bring Tolly back to the Smials,’ Anise whispered, with a glance to Meadowsweet, still coaxing Tolly to take the now-cool beef tea. ‘But Missus Aster put her foot down, she did, and said it would kill him, in the state he was in. And then, she told me when I got here, well, then you were taken, and hardly had they got a mug of willow-bark tea into you but you collapsed entirely, and Adelgrim next, and the next thing she knew they were hauling pale and staggering hobbits into the smial from the yard, and Thain Peregrin sent a message to the Great Smials to fetch a healer, and double quick!’

‘Woodruff’s down with the fever,’ Renilard murmured, feeling as if he were in a dream.

‘Not any more,’ Buttercup said. ‘When I left the Smials last night she was up and about, though of course her Ted wanted her to keep to her bed for at least another day... she wasn’t having any, not with more than half the muster taken with fever! And the Mayor...’

‘The Mayor!’ Renilard said, sitting up a little.

‘None of that, now,’ Anise said, setting the empty mug aside and pressing her husband down with a firm hand to each shoulder. ‘Aye, Mayor Sam was taken, and his Rosie is nursing him there in the Smials, for Fennel wouldn’t let her take him home, and Thain Peregrin insisted that the Mayor’s whole family stay until he was fully recovered.’

‘And the Master,’ Renilard prompted, happy to lie still just so long as the gossip continued to flow.

‘O he went back to the wilds of Buckland days ago, he did,’ Buttercup said. ‘None the worse for wear. Said he had to get ready for the King and Queen, they’re to meet Thain, Mayor and Master at the Bridge, as you know, on their way to the Southlands from the Lake.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And Mayor Sam, well, you know how he is. Said he’d be at the Bridge to honour the King, visiting, if they had to haul him there in the back of a waggon!’

‘And he would, too,’ Renilard said approvingly. ‘He’s a wonder, our Mayor Sam.’ And even though he was a Took, and looked first to the Thain, he meant every word.

But then it occurred to him that none had answered his question. ‘How long was I out of my head?’ he insisted.

Buttercup and Anise exchanged a glance over him. ‘How long?’ he said again.

‘Hold on, I’m not deaf,’ Anise said, smoothing the blanket. ‘You had a bad bout of it, auld love, the full five days it was, and not a day less, though young Raolf is up and about already. Why, he was here yesterday, shaky as a new lamb, just to look in on you. I chased him home again, I did, and told him he’d better marry a sweet lass who’d have the sense to keep him in his bed when he’s been ill.’

‘Five days,’ Renilard said. ‘It’s no wonder I feel like death warmed over... You needn’t tie me in the bed, I’ve enough sense to go back to sleep until the ache leaves my bones... just another mug of that fine beef tea... and if you’d put a spot of meat in’t, and perhaps a few vegetables, well, I wouldn’t turn my face away.’

‘You’re hungry!’ Anise said brightly, a genuine smile lighting her tired features. ‘Well, then,’ she said, ‘I know just where to find some good food.’ She hauled herself to her feet, leaving the healer’s assistant to watch over her husband, just in case.

But Buttercup had taken Renilard’s words to heart. ‘You’re showing a great deal of sense, for a Took,’ she said, with a pat for his shoulder. ‘That’s it, just rest your bones, and eat a little something, and sleep, and on the morrow I think you’ll be well on the mend.’

She got up then, and moved to Tolly’s side, talking quietly with Meadowsweet, who’d tucked Tolly’s blankets around him again and sat crooning a quiet tune to soothe the restless hobbit.

Five days, Renilard mused, and then he wanted to call Buttercup back, to ask her... Five days, he’d been fevered, and Tolly longer...

He looked over to Meadowsweet’s face, lines of worry pulling down the corners of her mouth, and he wanted to speak words of reassurance to the lass. Why, it had been at least five days that Tolly’d been fevered, then, for he’d been taken on the morning of the day the fever had struck Renilard down.

‘All will be well, Sweetie,’ he said, but he could scarcely hear his own voice in his ears. Really, he thought he’d just close his eyes until Anise returned to his side. A bite to eat, and a nap, just what was wanted.

And Tolly moaned, wrestling his hand free of the blanket, and Meadowsweet seized it between her cool palms. ‘Shhh,’ she soothed. ‘Shhhh, now, my love, my own, all’s well...’

‘Got to get out,’ Tolly whispered, ‘Cannot stay,’ over and again, and, ‘For your little-uns’ sake, Annie, don't,’ while she soothed him, seemingly in vain. Then he stilled, and seemed to sleep.

‘I know, my love, I know,’ Meadowsweet said, and she kissed his hand, and pressed it to her cheek, bathing it with her tears.

***

A/N: Thanks to Dreamflower for her listening ear and sensible suggestions.

4/26/07