Chapter 6. Aim

Although Hilly had picked up from the Talk going around the back corridors of the Great Smials that the Steward was calling a halt to young Faramir’s archery lessons, and reported as much to Ferdibrand, the Steward had not sent for the head of escort by the time of Farry’s next practice session. Ferdi half expected, after exchanging glances with Isenard who was on messenger duty outside the door to the Thain’s apartments, that Pippin would tell him the lessons were off.

But no. Both Thain and Mistress greeted him warmly and offered him a seat at table to share early breakfast (which he declined, saying, ‘My hobbits are already waiting on the shooting range’). ‘Farry’s just getting ready,’ Diamond said, and lifted her voice to hurry her small son along. 

Ferdi wanted to wince at her Don’t keep Ferdibrand waiting! He was only a hired hobbit, after all, used to waiting on the vagaries of the gentry. Though Diamond was invariably warm and considerate, and Pippin was, from their shared past, his baby cousin, still, the two were now Thain and Mistress, and Ferdi never let himself forget that fact.

His attention was claimed by the arrival of his young pupil, well bundled up against any errant spring breezes that might assault him on the open practice field in the chill of the early morning. The grey eyes above the warm muffler encompassing the lad’s neck and lower face shone bright, however, and Ferdi privately congratulated Hilly on his insightful talk with Faramir at that previous session.

‘Well then, come along, young master,’ was all he said aloud.

He had to suppress a wince at Pippin’s jovial, ‘Try to shoot at least as well as your father,’ in farewelling the lad, only to immediately swallow down a grin at Diamond’s rejoinder, ‘At the very least!’

‘That’s a good sign,’ Isenard said, pulling the door closed behind them in the corridor, shutting off the sound of the laughter of the Thain and Mistress. 

‘A good start to the day,’ Ferdi agreed. ‘Come along, Farry.’

The lad nodded silently and fell in beside the head of escort, who remembered to shorten his stride to a comfortable pace for a small child.

A stiff breeze was blowing when they got to the practice field. Ferdi nodded his thanks and apologies to Hilly and Tolly, who merely nodded back and then exchanged greetings with the son of the Thain.

‘Well then, Hilly,’ Ferdi said as he watched Farry pull his bow from the bow case and string it. He frowned to see the lad fumble a bit, after all the practice sessions they’d had, but put it down to the chill in the air, or perhaps the lack of practice whilst the boy was visiting his Brandybuck relations. ‘I hope you used the time well while you were waiting for us.’

Hilly gestured at the target that stood immediately before them at a fair distance, its face feathered with many arrows. Although most of the shafts showing the colours of that hobbit’s fletching, highlighted by the added yellow that designated practice shafts, decorated the second and third rings, and one laggard cheekily grinned from the fourth ring, three shone from the centre area of the target.

‘I rather hope you got better as you went along, rather than worse,’ Ferdi said dryly. He pulled out his own bow, strung it, and blew on his fingertips to warm them before taking an arrow from his quiver and loosing it at Hilly’s target. The arrow thunked satisfyingly into the middle of Hilly’s three well-placed shots, Ferdi’s fletching shining yellow-and-blue in contrast to Hilly’s red-and-yellow.

‘How you do that in this fickle wind...’ Hilly muttered.

‘Practice, little brother,’ Tolly said. ‘Simply practice.’

Ferdi nodded his agreement, then turned his attention to young Faramir. ‘We’ll begin with this target,’ he said, turning the child to their left, to face a target set up at half the distance he and Hilly had just shot, well within the reach of Farry’s bow. As an added benefit, the lad would be shooting with the wind at his back for his first flight of arrows. After he was well-warmed-up, they’d turn towards another target that would offer the challenge of a side wind.

Farry nodded, took a shaft from his quiver, and fitted it to his bowstring. He stood a long moment then, simply staring at the target, and Ferdi wondered what the lad might be thinking. At last, he drew.

Sighted.

Loosed.

And missed the target entirely. 

Missed the butt that the target was fastened to, in point of fact. Couldn’t hit the side of a barn, echoed from somewhere in the thoughts of all three hobbits of the Thain’s escort in about the same moment.

Ferdi realized his mouth was open only when he had to swallow as he tried in vain to find the words to respond to this unprecedented happening. ‘I – I,’ he faltered. ‘Young master...’

But to his horror, even as he bent down to address the young son of the Thain, Faramir’s bow fell from the lad’s grasp, and the lad himself crumpled to the ground.

‘Farry!’ Ferdi said in belated shock, bending further to the child, loosely curled on the cold, damp turf. But the bright eyes were closed now, and when Ferdi pulled the muffler away, he saw that the small, heart-shaped face was deathly pale. ‘Farry,’ he said again, more softly, but as urgent as before. ‘Farry, lad, d’ye hear me?’

He was vaguely aware of Tolly and Hilly crowding close, and he looked up to snap, ‘Tolly, go! Tell Woodruff to meet us at the Thain’s quarters... and Hilly, you run ahead, let the Thain and Mistress know...’ He gathered the lad in his arms, his alarm growing at the limp heaviness of the child as the small body lolled in his grasp.

The other escorts were off like shots from their bows. Hugging the small son of the Thain closer, Ferdi followed at a jog, trying not to jostle his burden. The thought was in the back of his mind that he’d have to send someone after Farry’s bow and the arrows, Hilly’s and Ferdi’s in the target, and young Farry’s, somewhere beyond the butt the lad had been aiming for. But his main thoughts were only to get the lad to Woodruff, chief healer at the Great Smials, and to his soon-to-be-worried parents.

Was it his imagination, or did the small body give off heat, as if Ferdi were bearing an oversized flannel-wrapped brick, heated in an oven and slipped under the bedcovers to warm the bed? He hugged the lad tighter to himself, put his head down, and ran faster.

Pippin met him partway between one of the lesser doors to the Smials – the one nearest the practice field – and the Thain’s quarters. ‘Farry!’ he gasped, reaching out to his small son.

‘I’ve got him,’ Ferdi replied. Pippin nodded, seeing the sense in the escort’s words. Together, Thain and escort trotted through the corridors, in violation of tradition that dictated walking, not running, in the halls of the Great Smials, but of course neither cared a whit at that moment.

Pippin was gasping when they reached his apartments, but Ferdi retained enough breath to snap at Haldi, who’d replaced Isenard outside the entrance door at the Thain’s beck and call, ‘Go out to the butts – retrieve all the arrows you can find there, and the lad’s bow! Scour the ground to find them all – not all are in a target.’

‘Aye,’ Haldi said, and was off at once, for he understood the importance of not leaving deadly weapons lying about where anyone might pick them up.

But Healer Woodruff was waiting impatiently, her arms extended to claim Ferdi’s burden. ‘Give him to me,’ she demanded. ‘Don’t stand about jabbering!’

Even as Ferdi held out his arms to her, she gathered the child to her bosom, turned, and hurried to a settle lined against the wall, where she laid Faramir down on the plump, soft cushions. ‘There now, lad,’ she said, smoothing the golden-brown curls back from the small, pale face. ‘Let us see what is what...’ And then, even as Pippin and Diamond crowded nearer, she gave an exclamation of alarm as the small body stiffened and began to shake.

‘Stand back!’ she said, spreading her hands to the sides to stop their approach, and such was the authority in her tone that all took a step or two backward.

‘O – O!’ Diamond gasped, and Pippin added, ‘What is it? What’s the matter with him?’ in tones that wrung Ferdi’s heart.

‘Fever fit,’ Woodruff said grimly, her hands now carefully bracing Faramir against the cushions. As the breathless onlookers watched, she took hold of the lad, as gently as if she were grasping a fragile butterfly, and turned Faramir onto his side. She then rested her hands on the small body to hold him in place, that he might not roll off the cushions onto the carpeted floor.

The whole time, all the other adults in the room – Pippin, Diamond, Ferdi, Sandy the Thain’s personal hobbitservant, Tolly and Hilly – stood in helpless horror, watching.

Though the shaking seemed to last an eternity, in reality it was only a few moments before Farry went limp and still again.

Keeping her hands on the lad as if to make sure he stayed still, Woodruff looked up at his anxious parents. ‘He’s burning with fever,’ she said, and her countenance darkened with anger. ‘What was he doing out of doors in this state, I ask you?’

‘He was fine – fine at early breakfast,’ Diamond sobbed. Pippin put an arm around her and gathered her close, murmuring broken comfort.

Woodruff turned to Sandy. ‘Make up his bed!’ she snapped. ‘Clean linens, and have fresh ones ready to replace them; cool water in a bowl, and cloths...’ The hobbitservant nodded and hurried from the room. 

Next the healer confronted the hobbits of the escort. ‘Well?’ she demanded, sweeping all three with a scathing glance.

‘He – he...’ Ferdi stammered, at a loss for words.

But Pippin broke in. ‘There was a fever going ‘round Buckland when we were there,’ he said quietly. ‘It had – has – a fast onset.’ As Woodruff turned to him, he nodded to emphasise his words. ‘A hobbit could rise from his bed in the morning, or from the noontide table, feeling fine, and within an hour or two, be suffering from chills and fever and aching head, fit only for the bed...’ 

‘How many days in duration?’ Woodruff broke in.

‘Five, I think,’ Pippin said after a pause. He looked to Diamond, who nodded, tears sparkling from her cheeks. ‘About five,’ he confirmed. ‘A bit less for some, p’rhaps longer for others.’

‘And how are you, yourself, Sir?’ Woodruff said sternly.

Pippin loosed Diamond long enough to spread his hands in illustration of his next words. ‘Never better,’ he said. ‘Please,’ he added, putting his arm around his tearful wife once more and pulling her close. ‘Help my little lad.’

‘Mistress?’ Woodruff said, momentarily ignoring the Thain, though she was using the fingers of one of her hands to soothe Farry’s forehead as she spoke.

‘I am well,’ Diamond said, gulping through her tears.

We’ll see about that, Ferdi could almost see the thought leap like a spark from the fire in Woodruff’s eyes. But all the healer did was lift little Farry in her arms once more, tenderly brushing her lips against his forehead as if to check the level of his fever. She murmured, ‘Don’t you worry yourself, lad, we’ll soon have you tucked up, and we’ll sponge you with cool cloths to help you feel better.’

‘Better,’ Diamond half-sobbed.

‘Aye, Mistress,’ Woodruff said. She walked slowly out of the receiving room, away from the entryway, heading for the private rooms in the Thain’s apartments, separated by a hall that had doors opening to the butler's pantry, the small kitchen where Sandy stirred up exquisite delicacies for the Thain and Pippin's small family when they were not eating in the great room, the quarters for Sandy and for Farry's nursemaid, the extra rooms for servants or guests (though whole suites of rooms were set aside elsewhere for important guests such as the Master of Buckland and the Mayor and their families), the small sitting room that the family used, and the bath room and family bedrooms. The Thain and Mistress followed.

Standing helplessly in the Thain’s receiving room, flanked by Tolly and Hilly, Ferdi heard the healer talking as the little group receded down the hallway. ‘We’ll do what we can to make him comfortable until the fever breaks, Sir and Mistress, though I’m afraid for the next few days at least, he’ll be feeling poorly...’