Chapter 13. Hunters' Return

24 September, very late; into 25 September, before the dawning

Somehow they kept themselves busy. It was necessary to keep the mind occupied with the business of making sandwiches, hastily tying bread and cheese and dried fruit in cloth bundles for the searchers who'd kept arriving as the word spread amongst the neighbouring farms, arriving and leaving again, to comb the paths and hillsides between Whittacres and the marshland where the ducks gathered this time of year. Then it was the building up the fire, stirring up batter for griddlecakes, brewing tea. It was needful, not only for the sake of the hobbits gone out on search who'd likely be coming back again wearied and hungered after their labours, but for the sake of the wan lass huddled in her shawl on the rocking chair, shivering, a cloth bound about her brow. It was necessary to keep working and talking and even, though Eglantine did not feel at all like it, lifting her voice in quavering melody to bolster all their spirits.

When the song ended, the only sound was the crackle of the kitchen fire and the ticking of the dwarf-made clock in the parlour, somehow loud in the silence. Eglantine shuddered and began another song, and Pervinca determinedly joined in as she rolled out pastry for yet another batch of hand pies.

Eglantine's burned hand was stiff and a little tender, but she was able to use it thanks to the day's rest and the healing properties of the honey plaster—why, when she'd unwrapped her hand at bedtime, the blisters that had been rising in the morning had already gone. She wouldn't want to plunge the hand into warm water, that would yet be painful for a day or two, but Pervinca could manage the washing up and Eglantine herself could dry and put away, if Pimpernel remained indisposed.

As seemed likely, at least for the moment, with Ferdi's whereabouts in doubt, added to the bump Nell had given her head when she'd crumpled to the ground in a faint. She'd tried to rise from the rocker, once or twice, only to be firmly pressed back down to rest by mother and sister.

The yard remained quiet and dark, save the torches left burning, no matter how many times Eglantine peeped from the window or eased the door open to look out. It seemed as if it ought to be dawning already, and not black as middle night outside the comfortable smial, with stars shining coldly down and wisps of mist arising. Never had she known such a long night, not even in her labours to deliver each one of her babes.

The clock in the parlour struck half-past three, and Eglantine thought to herself that it would soon be time to be about the makings of early breakfast, bread and butter and jam, hot tea, perhaps cheese or cold meat if a little more substance was called for; enough of a meal to sustain the family and hired hobbits through the early morning business of milking and feeding and whatnot. It seemed rather strange to be contemplating breakfast when one had not yet been to bed.

And then, when it seemed as if the night would never end, there were voices in the yard, many voices, farewell calls among them as of neighbours who'd accompanied Paladin and his hired hobbits homeward and were now taking themselves off. Farewell calls... as if they'd been off to the Rose and Briar in Whitwell for drinks and darts, and not off in the middle night on a search for missing hobbits.

Nell was up again from her chair, swaying with dizziness, but Eglantine did not chide her this time. Indeed, she was at once at her ailing daughter's side, whilst Pervinca sprang to the door and threw it open.

Paladin was but a few steps away, and he quickly entered, hugging first Pervinca (as she was closest) and then crossing to Eglantine for a quick embrace and peck on the cheek, before taking pale Nell in his arms. 'We found them, lass, we found them,' he chanted, easing her back into the chair. 'Now you sit yourself down and let us bring them in and settle them, and you'll see Ferdi soon enough with your own eyes, and see that...' Here he hesitated, for he was a truthful hobbit, and as yet he wasn't quite sure what the truth was, in this instance.

'He's well?' Eglantine said at his elbow, tucking her arm under his and laying her head against his shoulder for a brief moment to draw strength. 'They're well? Unharmed? What happened?'

Pervinca had questions of her own, though she only said under her breath, 'Bringing them? Can they not walk, then? What did they do, drink themselves into a stupor to keep the damp away?'

'Ferdi wouldn't!' Nell said stoutly from the chair, though she raised a fretful hand to her aching head. 'They wouldn't,' she said, a little less certainly, and looked up to her father's face. 'Would they?' she asked, almost as a child might.

'We found them,' Paladin said. 'They were sleeping, and we had a great deal of trouble trying to rouse them...'

Pervinca nodded in sour satisfaction, dreadfully disappointed in Ferdibrand, whom she'd thought (up to this point) much too sensible to be led astray by Tolly. Perhaps he wasn't good enough for her sister after all, and the smial would be awash in tears for days.

'Tolly did have a flask on him, and Mardi said from the smell it was some of the medicinal brandy they keep for emergencies, the best brandy in point of fact, and Tolly will have some explaining to do when he awakens...' Paladin continued, only to add, 'but Mardi says their reactions are not at all those of hobbits who've drunk more than is good for them... I sent a few hobbits out to find old Haldi in the marshes, where he's gone searching with young Hilly and others of Tuckborough, to say they're found, and to bid him here, to see if he can make any more sense of it than Mardi.'

'They're bringing both of them here?' Eglantine was quickly on to more practical matters. If Ferdi had over-imbibed, she deemed it was probably mostly Tolly's fault. Ferdi was not a drinker, and might easily misjudge the potency of a draught, especially if it was good brandy, heady but deceptively sweet.

Pervinca snorted softly, but she was glad for Nell's sake that Tolly's healer brother didn't think they'd drunk themselves into a sodden state and caused all the neighbourhood to be awake through the night, worrying, and searching, and worrying... The tale wasn't finished, however.

'Both, yes,' Paladin said. 'Whittacres is closer to the marshes than Tuckborough, not quite so far to carry them, and we needed to bring them together to one resting place or another.  Mardi wanted to keep an eye on both of them until they waken, or until his father comes, and that'll be made easiest by keeping them together.'

'So what happened?' Eglantine wanted to know, and Pervinca crowded a little closer to hear, while Nell kept her eyes fixed on her father with a wondering look.

Paladin shrugged. 'We don't know, yet,' he admitted. 'They were lying asleep, wrapped in their cloaks, at the top of a hill, a bright fire going, with no sign of their ponies...! And we couldn't get a coherent word out of either of them, just a few mutters that quickly turned back to snores once more, no matter what healer's tricks Mardi tried, to rouse them.' He took a steadying breath and forced a smile for Nell's sake. 'Not to worry, lass,' he added. 'Mardi thinks they'll waken sooner than later, and then we'll know what happened.'

'Perhaps their ponies threw them off, and they hit their heads and could not make their way home...?' Nell said.

'Both at the same time, and at the top of a hill? I thought they went to the marshes!' Pervinca said.

Paladin shot her a quelling glance; now was not the time to exercise her fine intellect. 'Perhaps they were at the top of the hill, the better to see over the marshes,' he said dismissively. 'Perhaps they were planning just where to start their hunt...' He shrugged, but if he had more to say he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Before anyone could move to answer, the door was thrown open by Mardibold, a healer of Tuckborough and Tolly's eldest brother. 'Here we are,' he called. 'Where shall we...?'

'I have a bed ready,' Eglantine said briskly. 'This way...!' and she turned toward the door leading from the kitchen to the hall. 'Pip's room, I think,' she said to her husband, who nodded. 'We can put them in Pip's room, his bed is made up ready for his return, and the guest bed we keep there for Merry or Frodo--those linens were just put on fresh today--I mean, yesterday, as a matter of fact, as I thought perhaps Merry might accompany Pippin back home that the poor lad might not feel himself completely abandoned by his cousins... With the two of them in Pip's room, Mardi can watch over them both, whereas if we put Ferdi in his own room and Tolly in another...'

A group of hobbits bearing an improvised litter entered behind Mardi, and Nell scrambled to her feet once more, stumbling forward with a cry. 'Ferdi...?'

Her father was quick to take her arm, lending her support.

'Tolly,' one of the bearers said. 'Ferdi's behind us.'

'This way,' Eglantine repeated, and the burdened hobbits followed her.

Pervinca saw that Tolly was warmly bundled in blankets, all but his face hidden. She was weary, of course, but to her eyes he didn't look like he'd drunk too much--his face was pale rather than flushed, and his closed eyes were deeply shadowed, though his expression was peaceful.

'He looks... dead,' she said, without quite meaning to, and Nell gave a gasp and grasped harder at Paladin's arm, echoing the last word. Dead?!

'Not at all,' Mardi said firmly, though a muscle jumped in his cheek as if he clenched his teeth immediately after. He took a deep breath and added, 'Just deeply asleep, that's all he is.'

'This way!' Eglantine called from the hallway, and the litter-bearers followed her, as another group entered the kitchen with Ferdibrand.

He, too, was well-wrapped up, as pale as Tolly, and as deeply asleep, it seemed. He did not move or show any sign of hearing when Nell sobbed his name. The litter-bearers stopped a moment, that Nell might see her beloved, but then Mardi urged them to follow after the others.

Nell stood, bereft, in the middle of the kitchen, sagging a little in her father's grasp.

Pervinca took firm hold of herself and moved to Pimpernel's other side. 'Deeply asleep, they are,' she said, 'and no wonder, at this time of the night! We should all be so lucky!'

Her father shot her a sharp glance and she gave a wry smile, before turning her attentions back to Pimpernel. 'Come, now, Nell,' she said. 'They'll have them settled in bed in a moment, and then we can pull up a chair for you to sit by your Ferdi, and you can hold his hand and scold him to your heart's desire for missing our picnic...'

'Scold him! Never!' Pimpernel said, breathless, pulling away a little to follow after the litter bearing her beloved.

Pervinca gave a little sigh of exasperation at this, but she was sure it was partly true, at least. Nell wouldn't scold Ferdi now of course, not this moment and probably not in the next few hours, but once he was himself again, she was sure he'd regret his thoughtlessness, whether Nell's reproaches were spoken, or silent. Pimpernel was a sweet tempered lass, but Ferdi had sorely tried her this day, and Pervinca was certain that her sister would not let Ferdi off as if nothing had happened.

If anything, she'd be quiet and sad, and Ferdi would be all apologies and efforts to bring back her smiles, and he'd have to work hard at spoiling Nell for the next day or two. It served him right, for giving them such a scare.

Pervinca hoped Nell wouldn't forgive Ferdi right away. She thought a week just might be sufficient. Perhaps just a bit more than that, even. It would do Ferdi good, in her opinion.

Last edit 8/3/2012