Chapter 28. Will Wonders Never Cease?

They rode, not one of Elessar’s fine war-horses, but a horse from the messengers’ post established not far from the Buckland Gate, for the convenience of the King’s Counsellors, that they might send off a message at need to their King, whether he was at the Lake or in Gondor or somewhere else. The horse was trim, swift and tireless, and Pippin had the feeling they were flying somewhere above the land, in the clouds, though the fog didn’t trouble him, with his face pressed close to the King’s cloak. The elven cloak tickled his nose, and when he inhaled sharply, to sneeze, he was reminded of the scent of Lorien, and his sneeze drained away. A good thing, probably, for if Elessar suspected he was coming down with a cold or fever, he’d pop Pippin into a bed upon arrival, and that didn’t suit Pippin at all.

He tightened his hold on the Man’s back and let his head droop until it rested against Elessar’s cloak once more. Really, at this pace they ought to arrive well before the sunrise. On such a swift steed, the twenty-some miles to the Blue Goose would speed by in an hour, or less.

Wearied by the events of the past fortnight, he found himself half in a dream as they rode along. He was riding behind Gandalf once more, speeding across the plains on an urgent errand... He took no notice when they turned off the dike road, away from the Brandywine, across the fields and into the woods, but he awakened with a jerk as the horse’s gait changed from smooth gallop to prancing walk. He was pressed hard against Elessar’s back at their abrupt slowing, as if his body meant to fly on, and then he sat up, regaining his hold.

‘Wha—what’s the matter?’ he shouted. ‘Lost? Horse lamed?’

‘We’re here,’ Elessar answered over his shoulder, in a tone just loud enough for Pippin to hear. He pointed to the lamp-illuminated painted sign, looming ahead in the fog.

They turned into the yard, and Elessar slid from the saddle and lifted Pippin down. The hobbit gave a sharp glance at the Man to make sure he was well muffled in the cloak, before turning to the gaping stable hobbits who’d left their chores on hearing the dancing hoofs on the stones. ‘Take him,’ Pippin said to the nearest, seizing the reins and thrusting them out. That hobbit gulped and took hold, standing as tall as he could and addressing the beast with all the authority of one accustomed to dealing with ponies.

‘Steady, lad! You’ve had a good run, it looks like, and now it’s time to walk about, just a bit, before you have your bucket of water and your hay...’

‘There’s a good lad,’ Pippin said, perhaps to the horse but more likely to the stable lad, but his next words left no doubt. ‘Take good care of him, now, for the Fair Folk wouldn’t be at all pleased if he’s neglected.’

The other two stable hobbits sprang forward at this, eager to share in the care of this wondrous beast.

Pippin felt Elessar’s sharp gaze upon him as they turned and walked to the inn; he looked up and said brightly, ‘Well, you know they wouldn’t! And neither would the Rohirrim, for that matter, though that’s neither here nor there.’

‘Pippin...’

‘If the King is not to violate his own Edict, at least to the knowledge of some of the greatest gossips in his Kingdom, well, we have to...’

They’d reached the door of the Inn, and the innkeeper himself met them, for his youngest son, watching from one of the windows of the common room at Hilly’s order, had shouted the news of the arrival.

‘Sirs, I—I welcome you to my humble establishment...’ he was saying, washing his hands together, staring from the Thain to his cloaked companion.

‘Yes, of course,’ Pippin said, and with a casual gesture towards the tall, indistinguishable companion he lowered his voice and said in a conspiratorial manner, ‘If I might present a son of Elrond...’

The innkeeper gawked at this and then mastered himself, managing a deep bow, stammering in his eagerness to welcome this distinguished visitor, for he had heard of the Lord Elrond of Rivendell, King of the Elves or so it was said in the Shire, who’d sailed forever away into the uttermost West. He wasn’t sure just how many sons that lord had left behind him in Middle Earth, but for one of them to stop at his inn was an honour greater than he’d ever imagined. Fair Folk, indeed!

The distinguished visitor bowed in return, and then he bowed lower, for he had to bend nearly in half to enter through the round door, and he had to walk bent-over as he followed Pippin to the room where Tolly lay.

Pippin walked quickly, but his steps slowed, nearing the room, as sudden dread seized his heart. What if they were come too late?

He opened the door, hearing nothing but Freddy’s snores. Startled faces looked up, and Hilly jumped to his feet, laying down the hand of the sick hobbit. ‘Pip!’ he said. ‘You’ve come back!’

‘Well of course I’ve come back,’ Pippin said. ‘I went for help, after all, and what good is help if you don’t bring it back with you, I might ask?’

He took Elessar’s arm and drew him into the room, bent nearly double to manage the doorway, and then the latter sank to his knees that he might be upright.

‘If you please,’ Pippin said to the hobbits gathered there. ‘I have brought a son of Elrond with me, but there is a difficulty. He’s supposed to be elsewhere, and I wish to spare him a great deal of trouble in being seen here. I must ask you to leave us here alone, whilst he gives Tolly what aid he may.’

Elessar bowed, but did not speak, for Hilly had met him on a visit with Pippin to the Lake, and might well know his voice. So long as Pippin was embarked on this mad scheme to conceal his identity, he’d play along as best he could.

‘But,’ Meadowsweet protested, her hold on her husband’s hand tightening until her knuckles whitened. They wanted to pull her away, when her husband was at his last gasp! But what if he were to die, and his wife not at his side? What if he opened his eyes at the last, not to find her there?

Mardi looked from Pippin, to the visitor, to Meadowsweet, and finally to Tolly who made no sign of discomfort at Meadowsweet’s knuckle-pinching grasp. ‘A son of Elrond,’ he said, and rose from his chair to bow. ‘The Thain has told me of the Lord Elrond and his healing powers,’ he said. ‘Greatest of his race, it was said of him...’

‘O aye,’ Pippin said, ‘and a son of his would have much of healing in him, I’m sure you’d agree.’

Mardi nodded, adding, ‘Aye, even as my brother has told me.’ He skirted around the bed and raised Meadowsweet from her chair, pulling gently at her arm to disengage her hand. ‘Please, Sweetie,’ he said. ‘Our Thain’s methods may be... unconventional... but he does seem to know people in high places... There’s naught more I can do for Tolly, but if he can...’

Hilly had moved to Freddy’s side. Though he knew Elladan and Elrohir from his time at the Lake, he could not tell which the cloaked figure might be. Still, if one of them was supposed to be elsewhere, perhaps at the King’s order, he wasn’t going to raise any difficulty for the fellow. He had a hearty respect for the sons and daughter of Elrond, and owed them a debt of gratitude for the present well-being of his beloved. He shook his snoring brother.

Freddy snorted, coming half awake. ‘Come now, Freddy,’ Hilly said, bending to lift his older brother’s arm over his shoulders, and straightening to raise him out of his chair. ‘Early breakfast’s on in the common room. Shall we see if there are any kippers?’

‘I dearly love kippers,’ Freddy murmured in return, and it was the work of a moment for Hilly to guide him, still half-asleep, from the room. He didn’t even seem to notice the kneeling visitor, for Hilly was careful to steer him around the feet and legs of the son of Elrond.

‘If you’d wait outside,’ Pippin said to Mardi. ‘We’ll call you at need... and we’ll need steaming water, and a basin, just so soon as can be managed.’

Meadowsweet swallowed hard, her tears spilling afresh. Steaming water, and a basin, she thought, to wash him before we lay him in his shroud... to take him back home to bury him... She raised Tolly’s unresponsive hand to her lips, to press a parting kiss against the cold and clammy skin. If not for the flush of fever on his cheeks, she’d think him dead already. ‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘I shall always love you, though we must be parted until we meet again at the Feast...’

A sob took her in the throat, and she bowed her head, allowing Mardi to lift her from her chair, though she held on to Tolly’s hand as he pulled her away, releasing it only when she must, or begin to pull him out of the bed.

Tolly’s hand flopped, hanging limp over the side of the bed, and the cloaked figure shuffled forward, quickly for someone on his knees, to seize the hand in one of his. Another hand emerged from under the cloak to rest on the dying hobbit’s forehead, and the hooded head bowed.

‘He has begun his work,’ Pippin whispered, taking Meadowsweet from the other side and urging her and Mardi towards the door. ‘Now, the steaming water, and quickly, and be sure to knock at the door, and wait until I open to you...!’

‘To be sure,’ Mardi said, and though the situation seemed hopeless, he felt hope rising in him. Somehow Pippin had found one of the Fair Folk and brought him to Tolly’s side, while Tolly still breathed. While there’s breath, there’s life was an old Shire adage. It was a wonder, indeed, to have a son of Elrond here in this place. Could it be that more wonders might be in store?

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A/N: Hilly's visit to the lake is detailed in All that Glisters, here on SoA.