by Marigold

beta Llinos

13th  November 1393

“How is the poor lad?” Bilbo asked anxiously. The concerned little group of close family waiting in the corridor pressed forward, as eager as Bilbo for some good news. But they did not get it.

Mistress Clover, the head healer at the Great Smials, closed the door to Pippin’s room carefully before she spoke, not wanting to disturb the occupants. “He is no better I am afraid. He still sleeps and nothing anyone can do will wake him. Not even a pinprick. And his fever is worse and his heart is slowing. He is slipping away from us, and upon my own life, I do not know why.”

When Bilbo and Frodo had arrived that morning Pippin had been fine. He had been very pleased to see them and full of excitement over his upcoming third birthday, in two days time. He had been slightly displeased that Merry and his family had not arrived with his Baggins' cousins as expected, but their plans had changed due to some unforeseen business and the Brandybucks would now be arriving direct from Buckland. Pippin had not been happy but he had not been overly concerned either.

“Merwy won’t miss my birfday,” he had declared confidently, even at not quite three years old, serenely certain of Merry’s complete devotion. Merry would be there if he had to sprout wings and fly. And then Pippin had spent the rest of the day wheedling stories and jelly-babies from Bilbo and showing Frodo around the grounds of the Smials as though his older cousin had never been there before.

But at teatime, after a visit to the greenhouse to show Frodo the flowers he would be presenting to his parents on the big day, Pippin had complained quietly of feeling tired and hot, and before Eglantine could so much as check his temperature he had fallen into a doze at the table. He had been put to bed and Mistress Clover sent for and things had just gone from bad to worse.

As Clover bustled away down the hall calling for her apprentice, Bilbo drew Frodo aside. The tweenager’s face was as white and drawn as Bilbo knew his own must be.

“I don’t like this my lad, I have never heard of such an illness as this.” He put a steadying arm around his ward.

Frodo leaned into the comforting embrace. “It seems most unnatural Bilbo. I wish that there were something that we could do to help. Anything at all! He's so little.”

Bilbo patted Frodo’s back distractedly. Something the lad had said had given him the beginnings of an idea. It was a desperate one to be sure, but Pippin’s sleep was unnatural, and reminded the old hobbit of the one time that he had seen something even remotely similar. He made an abrupt decision.

“Frodo, I cannot just wait here while the lad continues to worsen. There is something that I must try, though it is doubtful to come of anything.” Mindful of the gathered Tooks, Bilbo drew Frodo slightly apart and began to whisper his plans.

Bilbo pulled up his pony and listened carefully. He had ridden off in haste along the road towards Stock for several miles before leaving the road and venturing in amongst the woodlands. That had been several hours since and Bilbo had almost despaired of finding what he sought, or at least of finding it in time. But there was the sound again, coming closer! The luck of the Baggins was with him this night! Bilbo led his pony through the trees towards the faint sounds of singing.

Before long a solitary elf stepped from concealment. “Hail Bilbo Baggins!” The elf’s kindred appeared as if from nowhere and gathered around Bilbo in delight.

“Gildor!” Bilbo cried in relief. “This is good fortune indeed. I thought that I would have to search every foot of the Shire from here to the Woody End!”

“You have not been seeking us for pleasure I fear, my friend. Tell us your trouble and how we may be of aid.”

Breathlessly, Bilbo told the elves of Pippin’s mysterious ailment, and that the healers were at a loss of what to do. They listened gravely and attentively, until Bilbo finished his tale. “And so when my Frodo said that Pippin’s sleep was unnatural, I thought of old Bombur falling asleep in Mirkwood. Nothing that we could do would wake him either. And that made me think of elves and I came to seek you, hoping against hope that some of you would be near enough and could advise me of what might ail the poor little fellow. The elves have age upon age of healing knowledge. Certainly one of you might have heard of such an illness before, and could give me some remedy?"

The elves spoke softly among themselves for several moments before Gildor turned back to Bilbo. “We are not sure. There are many ailments in the world and we could not risk giving you a tonic that might do more harm than ill.”

Bilbo’s face fell; he had failed Pippin after all. But Gildor was not finished.

“And so Iachawyr and Meddygon will return with you. They among us have the most skill of the healing arts.” Already the two elves in question were gathering up supplies. Bilbo gasped a flabbergasted thanks; he had not even considered this possibility.

Bilbo and the two elves arrived at the Great Smials just a few hours before dawn. Eglantine and Paladin were unnerved at their unexpected visitors, but their beloved Pippin was slipping away from them and they were eager to grasp at any chance that might save him. Mistress Clover was shocked and suspicious at this turn of events. She was more than a little indignant that these foreign elves were to interfere with her small patient's treatment. But, on the other hand, nothing she had done so far had produced results and perhaps she could learn something.

Meddygon looked gravely upon the ill child. He was so very small! His sharp little face was flushed and the length of time between each breath and beat of his heart was disturbing. He and Iachawyr examined the little one, speaking to each other softly in Elvish while Bilbo and his kin waited anxiously. Finally Meddygon turned to the hobbits.

“This is a strange malady indeed. It calls to our minds an illness from the Far South, but we do not see how your young one could have been exposed to it.”

“It is important that we know his activities of yesterday,” Iachawyr said. “Knowing his movements may help us to understand if he suffers from the illness we suspect or perhaps tell us what else it might be. Time is of the essence; the child will not see the dawn if we cannot treat him and we dare not do so without being sure. The cure can be dangerous if administered inappropriately.”

“I can help with that.” Frodo said shyly, stepping away from the corner where he had been waiting quietly. “I was with Pippin most of yesterday.”

“That is well. Come, we must not waste a moment.”

Frodo escorted Iachawyr about the smial and grounds while Meddygon stayed to do what he could for Pippin. They found nothing of interest until they reached the greenhouse. Suddenly Iachawyr cried out. “There! That plant, did your young cousin go near it?”

Frodo looked at the plant in question, an oddly beautiful orchid of a type that he had never seen before yesterday. “Yes, he did. We both looked at it. The gardener said that it had bloomed for the first time yesterday. Uncle Paladin bought it from some dwarves that were travelling back to the Blue Mountains from the South.” Frodo frowned at a sudden memory. “Pippin touched it I remember, just before we went into the smial for tea. He stroked one of the petals and said how soft it was.”

Iachawyr groaned in dismay. "And did he after that put his fingers in his mouth?"

Frodo shook his head. "I can't say. But Pippin does still suck his thumb, he's still a baby really, but..."

“Aiee! I only hope that we are in time!”

Frodo could hardly keep up with the elf as he raced back to Pippin’s room.

Dawn had come but, instead of Pippin leaving with the night, the Sun had brought him back to those that loved him. The cure administered by the elven healers had worked. He was amazed when he suddenly woke to find two astonishing folk out of tales smiling down upon him and his family at his bedside. He turned to Bilbo, overjoyed. “Cousin Bilbo! You brung me elfs for my birfday! Did you get them from my book? Is it magnick?”

Bilbo laughed through his tears. “Not exactly my lad, though I did bring you something nice. All the way from Dale, from the dwarves of the lonely Mountain and very magickal indeed.”

“Oh!” Pippin smiled in anticipation. “Can I have it now?”

The Brandybucks finally arrived just before luncheon and almost before the coach came to a complete stop Merry was off and running to find Pippin. As he had expected, his baby cousin was in the day nursery and to his delight Frodo was there too.

"Pippin! Frodo! We got here at last!" Merry ran to Frodo and punched him affectionately on the shoulder then knelt on the rug next to Pippin, gathering the little one into his lap.

"Hullo Merwy!" Pippin crowed. "See what Cousin Bilbo gaved me for my birfday!"

Merry took the finely crafted toy in awe. It was a mechanical dragon, magnificently detailed down to the jewels encrusted on its breast. Giggling, Pippin pressed a certain spot and a scarlet and orange ribbon meant to represent a jet of flame spurted in and out of the creature's open mouth.

Merry gasped in appreciation. "That's wonderful Pippin!" The toy was so realistic that it looked as if it might fly away.

"It be Smaug!" Pippin bounced in excitement. "Frodo sayed!"

Frodo nodded. "It is an exact model of Bilbo's dragon by all accounts."

Merry whistled. "It's splendid!"

"You can play with Smaug too Merwy," Pippin declared. "But you can't see my elfs. They goned away."

"Your elfs?" Merry asked, confused.

Pippin nodded sadly. "Cousin Bilbo gaved me magnick elfs from my storybook but they went home so you can't see them."

"I don't understand you Pippin." Merry looked from Pippin to Frodo in confusion but before Frodo could explain Pippin answered eagerly.

"I was sleeping and sleeping and sleeping like Cousin Bilbo's big dwarf and it was a..a..'chant-a-ment!"

"Enchantment," Frodo corrected gently. They had decided it would be better not to tell Pippin exactly how ill he had been and from the little the child did know he had constructed his own version of events.

"What I sayed! 'chant-a-ment!" He helped Smaug to fly through the air with a fierce "Grrrrrr!" before continuing his tale. "And then Cousin Bilbo made my elfs come to wake me up. And I did and we had first breakfasts and sunged songs and then they went home in the book." Smaug landed and Pippin walked him across the rug with great concentration.

Thinking he understood Merry smiled encouragingly. "That's a good story Pippin. Someday you'll be as good a storyteller as Cousin Bilbo.

"Yes," declared Pippin matter-of-factly. "Tomorrow when I'm thwee!"