This chapter is dedicated to Larner, who did not drop off her message and then leave before I had a chance to get back from an errand, but waited long enough for me to return and greet her. *hugs*, my friend, and a very blessed Christmas to you and those you love.

Chapter 45. Sweet Dreams, Good News, and Hope to Come

Reginard, Steward of the Tookland under Thain Paladin and then Thain Peregrin, was not a fanciful fellow. Indeed, the Tooks prided themselves on his lack, fine and sensible hobbit that he was. Thus, when he returned from the noontide meal in the great room to find a hastily scribbled message laid upon his desk, a message written—as he recognised, from long acquaintance—by the hand of the Master of Buckland, he thought nothing of it, save to send a message boy (all the escort being engaged at present in other duties) to the stables, to inquire after the messenger.

The lad returned, panting, with cheeks glowing red from the chill of the courtyard. 'Gone already, sir!'

'Gone!' Regi said in patent surprise, sitting down upon his chair. 'Didn't even wait to see if there was a return message!'

And then that unimaginative hobbit nodded to himself. 'Ah, of course,' he said. 'The King's at the North Gate and all of Buckland must be there to see him and his travelling party, on their way to the Sunlands...' It really did not take any imagination on his part to realise that the messenger would hurry back so as not to miss the festivities.

As a matter of fact, he had the right of it.

He stood suddenly to his feet, scooping up the message once more, back to the business at hand. This was good news, and deserved immediate action! (In the back of his mind he chastised that careless messenger, for simply dashing in and leaving the paper upon the desk instead of seeking out the Steward at his nuncheon.)

He hurried to Tolly's apartments, where Hilly's Posey and his own Rosa were looking after Tolly's youngsters. He burst through the door into the sitting room, waving the paper. Startled faces turned to greet him from the ring that children and watchers had formed, sitting on the floor, some sort of game or other amusement. The youngest actually burst into tears at his entrance! Regi stopped in his tracks, nonplussed, his hand with the all-important message falling to his side.

Rosamunda was the first to respond. 'Yes, Regi?' she said brightly, pushing herself to her feet and crossing to meet him.

Regi blinked, then raised the paper as he remembered his errand. 'Don't cry,' he said urgently to the little one sobbing in Posey's arms. 'Don't cry; it's good news!'

'Good news!' Rosa said, taking the paper from him. Poor Regi was rather tongue-tied in the presence of small-hobbit tears, even though he was himself a father of little ones, and she'd better take on the business of proclaiming whatever news it was, before the tears began to spread to the others, their children as well as Tolly's.

A frown creased her forehead as she began to peruse the page, but it was not long before she'd broken into a little caper of joy, waving her hands—message still firmly in her clasp—over her head. 'Good news, indeed!' she chortled, belying the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She blinked them away and sat herself quickly down, beckoning to the youngsters as she smoothed the page upon her lap and pointed an eager finger. 'Look, darlings! He's well! He's really well!'

Tolly's children clustered in hope and bewilderment. They'd heard the whispers. They'd seen the heads shaking, the pitying looks as they were ushered from one place to another in the Smials. They'd realised the desperation of the healers, for it was unheard of to send a sick hobbit upon a journey—sick hobbits belonged in bed, even Tooks who were ever ready to speak their disdain of lolling about on a bed, healer's orders or no. 'W-well?' Gorbi, Tolly's eldest said, after taking a shaky breath.

Rosa astonished them by throwing back her head to laugh, but she quickly recovered and flung out her arms as if to gather them under her wings. 'Come!' she said in her gayest tones, for she was one of the healers who'd given Tolly up, even though they'd never allow themselves to say so, not in so many words. How light her heart! It was as if she'd been given her own miracle this day, new hope from the ashes of despair.

The children leaned closer, all eyes on the page. Rosa brought down her hand, to point to each word as she read aloud, for the benefit of the littlest ones, and to steady her pounding heart. 'From the hand of the Master—they've reached Buckland, and the King, evidently—To the family of Tolibold and Meadowsweet Took, and he names each of you, children, Gorbibold, and—'

'There's my name!' exclaimed little Jasper, Tolly's by adoption rather than birth, but as beloved of his father as any of the others, and perhaps even a little more, for the trials he'd cost the head of escort.

'Yes, all your names are there,' Rosa said, ready to begin reading the list again, but Gorbi broke in, his expression anxious, more demand than question.

'But what does it say?' He took another shuddery breath, his eyes wide with worry. 'And what of Mum?'

Rosa sighed, but it was a happy sigh. There would be time to go over the whole of the letter again, properly, from initial greeting to final signature, all the time in the world as it seemed now, and no need to keep them in suspense any longer. 'Oh children,' she said. 'Your father is well, healed by a son of Elrond!'

'Not the King?' Flambold broke in eagerly.

'The King is a son of Elrond...' Regi said slowly, and then shook his head. 'I do wish Master Merry would refrain from couching his messages in fancy phrases. It makes his meaning all the harder to manage.'

'O he manages just fine, a little further along,' Rosa countered. 'Look children! Her finger moved on the page. 'Completely healed it says, Completely! Just a day or two for the party to rest, after the strain of driving through the night...' She cleared her throat and squinted at the page, trying to read between the lines. “Completely healed” the message said, but did Merry really mean such? Was the delay part of Tolly's recovery? You didn't, after all, put a sick hobbit into a coach, nor even a recovering one, lest a recurrence strike, and worse than the first malady.

'And Mum?' Gorbi insisted.

'The Master doesn't say,' Rosa had to admit, adding quickly, 'but I'm sure that if aught were amiss, he'd have said so.'

One of Tolly's older children muttered something about how “bad news keeps” but Rosa managed not to hear it. She smiled brightly, saying, 'They'll be on their way back within the week. What shall we do to make ready to welcome them home?'

Immediately the children were deep in details, and Regi met his wife's eye and raised an eloquent eyebrow in wry congratulation. How Rosa managed them so well, he'd no idea, but he had other fish to fry at the moment in any event. Ferdi would certainly welcome the news of Tolly's recovery, and perhaps it would help his own along. He extended a hand, and as if she read his intention—and she probably did, intuitive healer that she was—she slipped the message to him without missing a single word of excited planning going on around her.

Regi nodded to Hilly's Posey, his lips twitching in reaction to her radiant smile. How relieved she was, that her beloved was spared this bitter loss!

For that matter, how relieved he was, himself! But of course, as Steward to the Tookland he was on his dignity, easing himself out of Tolly's apartments, and so he merely contented himself with a smile and a nod for the servant he met just outside the entry: Rusty, who served Ferdi's and Tolly's families. Rusty had evidently overheard the news, for his grin was broad enough to split his face and bright enough to light a darkened corridor. 'Good news!' that hobbit whispered, and Regi answered low as well, though he'd no idea why they were whispering. 'Good news indeed!'

It was not far to Ferdi's apartments, so distance was no impediment, but the healer's assistant in the sitting room was such, rising to meet the steward with an urgent shushing gesture. 'They're both asleep!' he said, his manner as important as if he had not sneaked out to partake of the late noontide meal and gossip, after seeing that both Ferdi and Nell were deep in sleep and unlikely to waken soon. It had been something of a breach of his professional ethic, but he'd been reassured upon his return, bare moments ago, to see them lying as if they hadn't moved a muscle in all his absence.

'I have good news, Wort!' Regi said, shaking the paper. 'Ferdi will want to know, so soon as possible!'

'I don't know...' Wort said. 'I have my orders. Fennel said...'

Regi put on his most official tone. 'Do I have to go and fetch Fennel here, to tell you to let me bring this news to Ferdi?' He nearly spoilt it by adding, 'Tolly's well!'

'Well...' Wort said, and he wasn't considering, but merely echoing Regi's last word in disbelief. 'What kind of...? Well, you say? How could that be, when Woodruff plainly thought he was dying, plain as the nose on my face...'

Regi had to admit that Wort's nose was as plain as that, and perhaps plainer, even, but it wouldn't help the situation to say so. 'Well,' he temporised, 'she didn't take into account the healing hands of the King now, did she?'

Wort shook his head. 'I can scarcely credit that there is a King,' he said candidly, 'but I suppose there must be such a thing...' His voice trailed off, his tone dubious, rather of the I'll believe it when I see it variety.

Regi wasn't about to spoil things further by saying that the message said nothing about the King after all, but rather “a son of Elrond.” Wort would likely give little credence to Elves or the Half-elven either. Instead he pressed his point. 'I won't waken them,' he promised. 'If they are truly still asleep, I'll just look in, and come back later with the news.'

'Well...' Wort said, and this time he was considering. 'Very well.' He sketched a bow to the steward in dismissal, and Regi nodded in return. Wort was, after all, a healer, and somewhat insulated from reprimand by that fact. Tooks walked softly around such hobbits, who could stir up a vile draught and conveniently forget the sweetening if they were so inclined, or keep a recovering Took in bed days longer than strictly needed. Though few healers would deliberately stir up a barely drinkable draught, it was best not to offend them.

Regi tiptoed from the sitting room, down the short corridor to the large bedroom where Ferdi and Pimpernel were sleeping. The door was ajar, and he pushed it open, his nostrils twitching unconsciously at the hint of freshness in the air. Some half-forgotten pleasant memory stirred in the back of his mind before he turned his attention to the slumbering figures curled together in the bed, shadowy in the half-light of the turned down lamp.

'Ferdi?' he whispered, crossing to the bed. He took a surreptitious glance over his shoulder. Ah, good, Wort had remained in the sitting room and wasn't hovering to make sure Regi didn't disturb the sleepers. He pursed his lips. Wort ought to have shadowed him. Perhaps he ought to take Wort's dereliction up with Woodruff. Though he had little enough imagination, he began to wonder what other neglect the hobbit might have practiced. Regi'd seen him in the great room, deep in gossip, at the late noontide meal. He wondered if Wort had just come on duty, or if he'd been the watcher assigned...? And if so, what had he been doing, leaving his post?

In any event, Woodruff's dealings with assistants could wait. Good news, however, should be delivered as soon as possible.

'Ferdi?' he whispered again. 'Nell?'

Pimpernel sighed and nestled her head on Ferdi's shoulder, her arms briefly tightening around her husband before she relaxed again. Ferdi's breathing continued deep and even. An air of peace pervaded the room, and again Regi had an inkling of an elusive scent.

He shook his head to dispel the fancy and bent down after another furtive glance behind him. 'Ferdi,' he murmured in that hobbit's ear. 'Ferdi, I've good news! Tolly's well! He's healed, Ferdi, and he'll greet you himself in just a few days' time.'

Ferdi smiled in his sleep, and to Regi's thinking he looked better for having heard the news, even without wakening. Satisfied, he nodded, and lightly patted Ferdi's shoulder. 'You just keep sleeping, lad, and mending,' he added in his most encouraging tone, 'that you might greet him as well.'