Chapter 56. A Pound of Cure

‘You wished to speak with me, Mistress?’

Woodruff looked up from her notes. ‘A moment, Wort,’ she answered, and looked back down to the page where she was scribing an addition to a treatment record. Fortunately, Ferdibrand was no worse for the worry the Tooks had put him through in the recent Convocation. Tooks! As a Took by adoption and marriage if not by birth, she had been present for the whole miserable affair, except for when she and her chief assistant, Fennel, had shadowed the hobbits of escort as they’d carried Ferdi to the parlour where the accused were sent to await the verdict.

To think the Tooks had come so close to banishing Ferdibrand and Tolibold, two stalwart heroes of the Tookish resistance, along with Everard, Chief Engineer and Delver, and Steward Reginard... and the Thain himself! What had they been thinking?!

She finished the sentence she’d been writing and dabbed her quill in the ink bottle, thinking further. Things could have gone so terribly wrong. Bless the wisdom of the Councillors – the keepers of the records and the traditions of the Tooks, going all the way back to Tuck, son of Tokka, one of a flight of hobbit archers serving the last King of Fornost (at least, until the return of the King in the person of Elessar), who’d been lost in battle when the North-lands fell to the dread Witch-king.

Glancing up briefly, she said, ‘I’m nearly done here.’ After placing the finished page aside, she chose the next in the pile of records to be completed this day, going on to record the rest of the findings of her most recent examination of Tolibold, just this morning. After the Convocation had concluded, she’d popped Thain Peregrin, Ferdibrand and Tolibold into their beds. The Thain had got up the next day, though she’d like to have kept him in the bed longer. She’d allowed Tolibold to get up today, though to her mind he was still as thin as a hobbit who’d just come from the Lock-holes. He’d protested when she’d decreed a week off from his duties and plenty of food, drink and rest, but he hadn’t protested too vigorously. He knew very well she could just as easily pop him back into the bed and keep him there.

She smiled briefly. And stir up vile concoctions for him to drink, strengthening tonics though they might be. Tooks were wary of crossing their healers for good reason. Ferdi, now... though he miraculously hadn’t lost ground from the strain of the trial, Woodruff had told Pimpernel to keep the hobbit abed for another three days, and then we shall see what’s what, meaning she might let him up out of bed, should her examination prove satisfactory, or she might keep him there still longer. Ferdi’s Nell was a force to be reckoned with, and so Woodruff had full confidence that Ferdi would rest and eat and continue to make progress in his recovery.

Her head still whirled when she thought of the trial that had taken place a few days earlier in the great hall. It had come to light that Thain Peregrin and Master-delver Everard had not paid proper restitution after falsely accusing Ferdi and Tolly of being in league with ruffians, meaning the charges laid against the two hobbits (and intent to do harm was so serious as to warrant banishment) had not been satisfied. Into the bargain, accusers who were found guilty of making a false accusation must, by Tookish law and tradition, pay the penalty they would have seen imposed on those they had accused. For his part, Reginard had declared he would stand or fall with the Thain!

Things had looked bleak for all five hobbits who stood before the Convocation of Tooks. But in the end, justice had been done, for one of the Councillors had found a way to salvage the situation. Peregrin and Everard would forfeit half their holdings (half! Woodruff thought in amazement), with the total to be divided between Ferdibrand and Tolibold, catapulting them from their status as lowly archers (relatively speaking, for though archers were held in high regard, they fell into the designation of “working hobbits”) to the highest level amongst the gentry in the Shire. Why, it appeared the restitution they’d receive would rival or even surpass The Bolger’s wealth or even, perhaps, that of the Master of Buckland! 

She barely restrained herself from shaking her head, which the healer’s assistant who stood before her now might misconstrue, taking the gesture as dismissal, or a silent order to come back later. 

Laying her quill aside, she studied her errant assistant. It was time for her to conduct a trial of her own, though she wasn’t looking forward to it. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’

The apprentice’s confident look was wiped away in an instant. ‘Mistress?’ Wort gulped.

‘Why do you think I sent for you?’

‘I—I don’t know, Mistress,’ Wort stammered.

Woodruff’s eyes narrowed. If he were not trustworthy, his apprenticeship would end here and now, two years short of fully qualifying as a healer, and five years of learning and training thrown away. ‘I want you to think carefully,’ she said. ‘A great deal depends upon your answer.’

Wort was blinking now. His lips parted, and then he pressed them together and swallowed hard.

Woodruff waited.

‘I,’ Wort began, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth as he reviewed his actions over the past few days.

Was it worth it—was he worth the effort of offering him a rope to grasp, considering the deep water he was in?

Woodruff nodded to herself. She held the hobbit’s future in her hands. He showed a great deal of promise... but a healer must be trustworthy. ‘Think back a bit further,’ she said quietly. ‘A little more than a week ago...’ And then she waited and watched his face.

She saw the dawning of realisation but kept her own face blank, waiting... and soon she was rewarded for her patience.

Wort paled, then flushed, and then he dropped his eyes to his toes and took a deep breath. ‘I left him,’ he said.

‘Beg pardon?’

Wort raised his eyes to meet Woodruff’s demanding gaze. ‘Since naught came of it, I thought naught of it... but I—I neglected my duties that day.’

‘What day are we discussing?’ Woodruff kept her voice neutral, for this was work Wort must accomplish himself if he were to salvage his chosen avocation.

‘But—but he’s fine... is he not?’ Was that a note of true anxiety in his voice? The assistant took a shuddering breath. ‘I was wrong—I did wrong,’ he confessed.

‘What did you do?’

He blinked, and a tear spilled down his cheek. ‘It’s a matter of what I didn’t do,’ he said. ‘I thought—since all was well when I returned—but I was wrong to leave him. He was sleeping peacefully, and his Nell was curled up beside him when I looked in on them, and then I had to—had to,’ he paused, but part of a healer’s training is to speak of bodily functions without awkwardness or embarrassment, and so he resumed, ‘I had to take care of a personal need,’ he admitted. ‘And then, I was hungry, so I thought I’d go down to the kitchens and fetch a tray for—for—’

‘You might have asked Rusty,’ Woodruff said.

Wort shook his head. ‘He was out and about on an errand—before she lay herself down, Pimpernel sent him to check on the children, he told me as he filled the kettle and placed it on the fire. He said I should help myself to tea if I wanted. When the kettle boiled, I moved it off the hottest part of the fire to where it would simmer, gently, without boiling all away. He’d been gone long enough for the kettle to come to a boil, so I thought he’d be back at any moment, and I could nip out and fetch a tray of food to go with the freshly brewed pot that I’d make as soon as I returned. I was hungry myself, and I thought Pimpernel ought to eat, and I’d bring enough for Ferdi, should he waken...’

‘But you were gone above an hour,’ Woodruff said, and saw the questions in his eyes.

But seeming relieved at being given the opportunity to tell the truth about his dereliction, Wort said. ‘I was gone more than an hour, perhaps nearly two. When I got to the great room, the Talk was flying, and Dimmy called to me with a question, and...’

He hunched his shoulders, ‘...and before I knew it, the time had flown. I was—I was beside myself! I didn’t even go to the kitchens to ask for a tray but flew back to Ferdi’s and Nell’s apartments! But everything seemed to be in order when I got there... Ferdi even seemed to be better, somehow, than when I’d left. I checked his heartbeat, I counted his breaths, I lifted his eyelids and looked at his eyes, and the pupils were even and responsive to the light! He was better! And so I thought—’

‘You thought you’d dodged the snare,’ Woodruff said.

‘I—I’m sorry,’ Wort said, and his face fell. ‘I—I’m not fit to be a healer. I ought to have told you, rather than staying and doing my work and holding my tongue when I ought to have taken my punishment—the consequences I’d earned.’

‘Have you ever been questioned by the Querier?’ Woodruff asked, instead of answering his confession directly.

The unfortunate hobbit gasped and looked up pleadingly. Perhaps he thought Woodruff planned to bring him before the Thain on charges of negligence or, much worse, if it could be proven, malice. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Mercy.’

Woodruff said, ‘There’s an oath you must swear, if your testimony is demanded for a trial by Tooks... a convocation, as it were.’

Wort was not a Took, and so he’d been excluded from the recent Convocation. He’d proved himself an honest hobbit, up to this point, and it seemed that he’d never had to answer the questions of the Councillors’ Querier, either in his own or someone else’s case.

‘You must swear to speak the truth, all truth and only truth,’ Woodruff said, holding his eyes with her gaze. ‘Only truth means...’

‘Not to speak a lie,’ he whispered. ‘I know that much.’

‘And all truth?’ Woodruff delved deeper.

Wort looked puzzled. ‘I—I’m not sure what that means,’ he said.

‘A lie of omission is when you hold back some of the truth, and you let others make assumptions, and you do not correct their assumptions when these become clear to you,’ Woodruff said. ‘It is a serious offence, whether you are taking part in a hearing, or simply going about your duties.’

Wort understood immediately. ‘I did not come to you, as soon as Cally relieved me,’ he said. ‘I did not come to tell you what I’d done... I told myself that all was well, and I’d never do it again, and...’

Woodruff nodded. ‘It is good to know that you are truthful, though in this instance you had to be prodded.’ He winced, and she nodded. ‘Don’t let it happen again.’

‘Mistress?’ he said, hope coming into his eyes for the first time since he’d realised the trouble he was in.

‘There will be consequences,’ Woodruff said, holding up a staying hand. And somehow, to her satisfaction, Wort seemed relieved to hear that he would have to pay, somehow, for his dereliction.

‘Mistress,’ he said, and waited.

‘You’re young, yet,’ Woodruff said. ‘I think you would benefit from learning more about the seriousness of our occupation.’ She breathed deeply and then nodded. This punishment would fit the crime. ‘And so,’ she said, ‘I release you from your healer’s duties. O—’ she said, holding up her hand, for it seemed to her that he was about to throw himself upon her mercy, to beg her for another chance, ‘you’ll still attend classes with the other apprentices, but you’ll not sit with patients or treat injuries or illness under a healer’s supervision.’

‘I don’t understand,’ he said faintly.

Woodruff smiled sympathetically. His punishment might be harsh, but it would hammer into him an understanding of the importance of a healer’s fidelity to their responsibilities. ‘You’ll continue your training time, lest you forget the knowledge you’ve already accumulated,’ she reiterated. ‘But instead of tending patients, for a year and a day from this day forward, your working time will be spent with the grave-diggers. And when there are no graves to be dug, they’ll find other work for you to do.’

He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then he closed it again and bowed his head for a long moment. At last, he raised his head again and looked Woodruff straight in the eye. ‘Thank you, Mistress,’ he said, and then quoting from the healers’ oath, he added, ‘I’ll do my best to serve faithfully in all that I do.’

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Author’s note: More details on the Convocation that took place between Chapters 55 and 56 of this story can be found in The Thrum of Tookish Bowstrings, Part 1.

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