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One Who Sticks Closer than a Brother  by Lindelea

Chapter 22. A Word to the Wise

Woodruff left Ferdi with a pat to the shoulder and a soft word to the effect that he was to “sit there and take your time with that good food... Don’t you worry that head of yours about a thing, d’you hear? I’ll have your Nell come here to you, and we’ll have you carried back to the comfort of your bed once Mardi’s dealt with that brother of his, in your sitting room...”

The words washed over him, making more or less sense, but he nodded slightly and lifted a goodly bite to his mouth, and chewed, still nodding as Woodruff turned away.

There was something nagging at him, and if folk would just leave him in peace he might be able to catch hold.

He didn’t take much note of goings on around him. There was a stir and murmur of voices, Woodruff’s, and Meadowsweet’s, he thought, and the opening and closing of a door. Some time later Mardibold was at his side, offering to fill his plate up again if he desired, or would he like some help back to his bed?

He shook his head at that. Nell would be coming, he remembered Woodruff saying something to that effect. He’d wait here until she came. He tried to say as much, though his brain, his whole body indeed, was exhausted by his recent exertions, and one word at a time was about all he could manage. Forget sentences, even of only two words. He concentrated on the most important word he could think of. ‘N-Nell.’

‘Would you like me to fetch your Nell?’ Mardi said. What was it about healers, and their pats to one’s shoulder? ‘Let me look in on Tolly once more, and then I’ll go and find your Nell.’

‘W-w-w,’ Ferdi said, trying to tell him that Woodruff was already going to go and bring Nell here, but it hardly seemed worth the trouble, and so he took another bite of cold roast beef instead.

Mardi nodded as if Ferdi had made perfect sense. ‘Well then,’ he said. ‘We’ll bring you your Nell, just as soon as I’ve seen to Hilly and Tolly. And apologies, for Freddy’s rousing you the way he did... He’ll have an apology of his own, when you’re feeling better.’

‘Fred?’ Ferdi managed, looking up.

Mardi smiled briefly. ‘I’ve taken him down to the kitchens,’ he said. ‘He’s helping with the baking of sweet biscuits. Not a lot of help, I fear, but the cooks are kind and it’ll keep him from thinking dark thoughts.’

Dark thoughts. That niggling at the back of Ferdi’s brain jumped for a moment, without bringing clarity, and he frowned and shook his head.

‘Aye,’ Mardi said. ‘He’d have Tolly dead and buried, he would, and I don’t know how he got that notion in his head. He was sitting quietly enough by Tolly’s side, a little while ago, and I went to fetch some herbs, and when I came back he’d wandered. I thought, perhaps, he’d taken himself back to the Duck, having forgot why he was here... It’s something he’d do, after all.’

‘T-t-tolly,’ Ferdi said, putting down a piece of buttered bread without biting into it, and looking up at Mardi, suddenly intent.

Another annoying pat on the shoulder. ‘It’s just this fever,’ Mardi said. ‘Tolly will be well, we just have to bring him through until the fever breaks, that’s all.’

The shadows around the eldest brother’s eyes rather belied the cheery sentiment, and Ferdi mustered all his concentration to read in the healer’s face what Mardi was not putting in words.

Mardi smiled—was that a tightness around his mouth?—and gave a final pat to Ferdi’s shoulder. ‘You’re doing a fine job,’ he said. ‘Eat up, and I’ll see how Hilly’s managing, and be back before you can say, “Jack, Robin’s son”.’

At the rate I’m talking, you may stay away an awfully long time, Ferdi thought at him, and Mardi chuckled dryly at his wry expression before turning towards the back hallway.

Left in silence to think his own thoughts, Ferdi turned his attention to that niggling at the back of his brain. It was something important, he thought, something to do with Tolly, and Mardi held the key. What was it?

Ferdi had cleared his plate and was holding it, useless on his lap (what good is an empty plate, unless one fills it again?) when there was a tap on the door leading to the corridor. He didn’t have to worry about answering, for the door opened a few seconds later and hobbits filled the entryway.

And then Nell was at his side, exclaiming breathlessly, and throwing her arms around him, and someone took his empty plate, and Pippin was there, too, saying, ‘Well now, cousin, I think you’ve set a new record! I do believe you’re out of the bed more than a week before the healers said they’d let you up!’

‘None of your nonsense, now,’ Woodruff said, sparing Ferdi the effort, and then to Ferdi she said, ‘Haldi’s coming, and bringing half the escort with him, so you’ll have a proper escort to your bed, Ferdi, and I’ve half a mind to have them sit on you to keep you there...’

‘Not his fault,’ Mardi said, emerging from the back hallway. ‘Fredebold likely sought him out and filled his head with all manner of alarm, and for no reason...’

Ferdi, looking at Pippin, saw a grave look come over his cousin’s face. Pippin, at least, was very worried over Tolly, and unlike the healers, he wasn’t thinking about concealing his dark thoughts from Ferdi.

Dark thoughts, Ferdi thought, and looking at Pippin, he had it at last.

He’d heard bits and pieces of recent events, from Nell and from Pippin himself. Farry, driven deep into himself by the terror of the ruffians’ threats and doings, had been drawn out by some magic of the King’s.

He could almost see it in his mind’s eye, as Pippin had described it: Merry and Pippin, riding at a gallop through the long miles to the Bridge where the King awaited them, changing ponies at every inn, taking turns bearing Farry in their arms. The King meeting them, taking Farry, casting aromatic leaves into steaming water...

Ferdi had heard something of the King’s methods before from Pippin and even Merry, but even this most recent recitation had given him the absurd notion that the King was brewing tea. “A little cup of tea, that soother of all ills,” as his grandmother used to say...

Nell continued to talk, though Ferdi was paying little heed. Pippin was making noises about paying Tolly a visit to see if he was any better this day, and Ferdi remembered Nell having said something about Pippin going to see Tolly every day, even when it meant riding out to the farm where the fever'd had several hobbits from the Great Smials confined.

He shook his head cautiously to clear it, decided it was about as clear as it would ever get, and grabbed at Pippin’s sleeve.

The Thain looked down in surprise. ‘Yes, cousin?’ he said brightly. ‘Is there aught I could be doing for you?’

‘H-hands,’ Ferdi said.

Pippin blinked a little at this. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in regretful tones. ‘I mean, I beg your pardon, Ferdi.’

‘K-k-k,’ Ferdi said, but could not get the rest of the word out.

Pippin patted his hand—at least it wasn’t his shoulder!—and smiled. ‘You’re getting a little better every day, Ferdi. It’ll come; I mean, it’ll keep, whatever it is, especially if it’s important. You go to your rest, and perhaps we’ll be able to talk on the morrow.’

‘No,’ Ferdi said, shaking his head rather more vigorously than was prudent. Pippin started to turn away, but Ferdi still had his sleeve, and he tugged. It was important!

Nell started to soothe. ‘Ferdi, darling, it’s all right.’

He frowned at her. It most certainly wasn’t. Tolly was seriously ill, ill enough that Fredebold, with the dullest wits of the whole family, had been able to perceive the danger. And Pippin had told him of another time, another fever that gripped and would not let go...

In desperation, he began to sing.





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