Chapter 41. The Next Best Thing

Hilly sent a feast indeed to the stables, trays and platters, and it was fit for a King, or so Pippin maintained. The two of them, Thain and King, sat at their ease on piles of hay, and though Elessar remained cloaked and hooded in the event some hobbit might stumble upon them, as far back as they were, in the last stall at the end of the corridor, the extra clothing did not seem to encumber him when it came to eating. The stable hobbits had all gone to their own breakfast, and the travellers were free to talk and laugh over their meal.

‘Ah, such a breakfast,’ the Man sighed at last, as he sat back, replete with good food. ‘I have not had such a fine Shire breakfast since...’

And Pippin laughed in sheer delight, and began to count on his fingers. ‘Well, there’s the breakfast that Bilbo cooked for you, when he arrived at Rivendell to stay,’ he said, ‘and the time we turned the royal kitchens in Minas Tirith upside-down...’

‘That was Frodo’s doing,’ Elessar said, with a smile of fond remembrance, ‘and glad I was to see him in the midst of the mischief.’

‘Yes,’ Pippin said. ‘It was a little of the old Frodo, come back again for a time.’ He sighed himself, and then sat up straighter and ticked off another finger, ‘and then when Merry and I went South, and taught your cooks how to do it up properly, for they’d got it all wrong...’ He chuckled and added, ‘and then of course when I brought Diamond, and she undertook to teach them her mother’s way of doing things...’

‘And a very fine cook her mother must be,’ Elessar said. ‘I’ve never tasted lighter biscuits.’

‘We’ll make a proper hobbit of you yet, Strider, just wait and see,’ came a voice from the doorway.

‘Merry!’ Pippin jumped to his feet. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I am at Brandy Hall, as a matter of fact, arranging the shipment of a waggonload of brandy for the grand fare-well feast,’ Merry said. ‘You only think you see me here.’

‘You left Samwise alone?’ Pippin said.

‘He’s holding up his end of the conversation remarkably well,’ Merry said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Just so long as the pipe-weed holds out, he’ll be fine.’ He put a finger to the side of his nose and winked. ‘I’ve ordered a fresh pony saddled for my quick return to the Hall, where they are loading the waggon as we speak. As for Samwise... as a matter of fact, it was his idea. You know how he loves his brandy...’

‘Hah,’ Pippin said critically. ‘Brandy! I can see that it was his idea to send you off, but not for brandy!’

‘You’re right,’ Merry said, closing the distance and seizing a slice of buttered bread from Pippin’s plate. ‘It was not the brandy he was thinking of, but Ferdibrand.’

‘Ferdi!’ Pippin said, taking several more pieces of bread from the platter and buttering them for Merry’s convenience, adding marmalade to half of them for good measure, and pouring more tea into his own cup and fixing it to Merry’s taste.

‘Thanks,’ Merry said, taking up the cup and following with a grateful sip, ‘yes, Ferdi. You know how fond the Gamgees are of that hobbit for some reason; must be the fine birthday-presents he always gives to the children, or something, but in any event, Sam thought to send me to the King, to ask on Ferdi’s behalf...’

Pippin raised a hand to stop him. ‘Out of the question,’ he said flatly. ‘Why, the Tooks would shoot any tallish figure out of hand, without asking questions first or afterwards.’ His eyes flashed. ‘Have you already forgotten the muster? The Tooklanders certainly will have not.’

But Merry, abandoning light speech, seized the King’s hand in his. ‘Is there no way to save my old friend?’ he pleaded. ‘Is there nothing you can send to succour him, Strider, if you cannot go?’ And turning to Pippin, he added, ‘You said, yourself, that his healing is still in doubt; for you to admit as much tells me that his condition is grave indeed.’

‘Not yet in the grave,’ Pippin said, trying for a light note, for there was no way to bring the King further into the Shire, and guarantee his safety. Why, to bring him this far had been a risk, had their path crossed that of a Shirriff or Bounder watching for ruffians, as well as a danger to the King’s reputation, his very integrity in the eyes of Men and Hobbits. He’d sworn to uphold his Edict himself, and up until this point he’d been scrupulous to observe its terms.

‘You said he was rescued from the grave, as the clods were falling,’ Elessar said quietly.

‘He was,’ Merry said, and turning his look to Pippin, he added, ‘and I’d’ve expected you to bring him to the healing hands of the King, and here you’ve brought Tolly instead...?’

‘Tolly was dying,’ Pippin said shortly.

‘And Ferdi isn’t?’ Merry said. ‘But Fennel gave me to understand, that day we buried the young ruffian who saved Farry from the others, that Ferdi was still very ill from the blow to the head; that he must keep to his bed, and be kept from excitement, indeed, to be kept off his feet--as if anything could keep that one off his feet for long... Why do you not bring him to the King, when he is your right hand, and his healing is in doubt?’

‘Precisely for that reason,’ Pippin said heavily, sitting himself down and feeling suddenly very tired. ‘The healers thought that he would not survive such a journey. You know how he lost his speech, the evening after they took him up out of the grave?’

‘I remember,’ Merry said.

Pippin looked to the King. ‘The healers said that something broke loose, inside, and they’re hoping against hope that he will heal enough that nothing worse will happen.’

‘Inside--’ Elessar said, and then, ‘inside--his head?’

‘That’s right,’ Pippin answered with a nod.

‘Mmm,’ Elessar said, grasping his knees and bowing his head in concentration. Merry and Pippin waited.

At last the Man raised his head once more. ‘The healers are hoping for healing,’ he said. ‘Healing of what was broken, inside his skull...’

‘That thick skull of his, yes,’ Pippin muttered.

‘It is a race against time, then,’ Elessar said slowly, measuring his words as if they held some key to Ferdibrand’s well-being. ‘Healing, to repair the damage done, and prevent further damage from the blood vessels inside his brain leaking, or even rupturing...’

Pippin looked wide-eyed to Merry--he’d never thought about what was inside one’s skull before, not in any detail at least, and now he found himself gulping down nausea at the image the King’s words conjured in his imagination.

Elessar picked up his hands and slapped them down on his knees once more in a decisive gesture. Both hobbits jumped.

‘What is it?’ Pippin said, and at the same time Merry was saying, ‘You’ve thought of something!’

‘The healing hands of the King,’ Elessar said, holding his hands out to them. ‘We cannot bring them to Ferdibrand, neither can we bring Ferdibrand to the hands of the King, but there is something that we can do...’ He looked keenly to Merry. ‘Pippin is very weary,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling, Merry?’

‘I’m very well, thank you,’ Merry said politely, and then he blinked. ‘You don’t mean that the way it sounds, I take it.’

‘No,’ Elessar said. ‘For what I am about to propose requires the utmost speed and care.’

‘I’m well!’ Pippin protested belatedly. His concentration had lapsed a moment, and he was just now rejoining the conversation.

‘Of course you’re well,’ Merry said in his most reasonable tone. ‘That’s why you’re dropping on your feet.’ To the King he said, ‘What is it that I must do, Strider?’

In answer, the King reached under his cloak, bringing out the pouch he carried there, and carefully extracted a pair of leaves. ‘I culled them only this morning,’ he said, ‘happening upon them in a thicket as I was... no, it would have been yesterday morning, now. In any event, they are fresher than the leaves that brought Faramir, the Lady Eowyn, and indeed, you, yourself, Merry, back from the brink of death.’

‘But what good--without the hands of the King...?’ Pippin said in confusion.

Elessar laughed. ‘But here are the healing hands!’ he said, almost gaily. He put the leaves gently down and took up the small box of salt reposing on the breakfast tray, removed the lid, and dumped out the contents on a plate. ‘Tightly made, to keep the damp in the air away,’ he said approvingly, shaking out the last grains and laying the box down again on the tray, yawning open, lid beside it. ‘Now,’ he said, taking up the leaves once more.

He lifted the leaves in upraised palms and bowed his head to breathe gently upon them. The fresh and living scent of athelas arose, and both hobbits breathed deeply of the lovely, heartening aroma.

Of course there was no steaming water at hand to complete the deed; Elessar laid the leaves gently in the little salt-box, rolling them a little that they might fit, though he was careful not to bend or crease their surface. He fitted the lid with something close to a sigh of satisfaction, and then he held the box out to Merry. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Ride hard, ride fast, Meriadoc, and bring these as quickly as can be to Ferdibrand. With every passing moment they lose a little of their power, but if you ride as if the Witch King himself is after you, you might come in time for them to have a good effect on your old friend.’

Merry took the box and hesitated. ‘And just what do I do, when I get there?’ he said, at something of a loss.

‘Crumple them and cast them into steaming water,’ Elessar said simply. ‘Let Ferdibrand breathe the steam, and bathe his injured head.’

‘But...’ Merry said.

‘I have already blessed them,’ Elessar said. ‘The minutes are wasting... Go! Ride!’

‘Grace go with you,’ Pippin said urgently as Merry turned away, ready to jump into the saddle of the fresh pony he’d so fortuitously ordered, albeit for a different reason. 'And Merry...!'

Merry, a few steps past the stall entrance already, paused and swung round, quivering with impatience, but at least he did stop.

'Tell Tolly's little ones--' Pippin said, for some reason feeling breathless. He mustn't delay Merry! But... Catching his breath, he forced out, 'Tell them he's well!'

Merry grinned broadly. Now that was news worth the carrying!

'And,' Pippin said, but could say no more, though his hope and fear for Ferdi shone in his eyes.

‘I’ll give Ferdi your greeting,’ Merry said in answer, ‘and rejoin you when my errand is complete!’

‘Go!’ Elessar said again, half-rising.

But Merry was already gone, and the immediate clatter of hoofs on the stones of the courtyard heralded his hasty departure.