Chapter 29. Enough

Faramir was dreaming, and of a wonder, considering his circumstances, it was a good dream for a change. He’d dreamt of water since the beginning of their troubles – a pure cold spring bubbling from the ground, a laughing stream, a splashing fountain, Sandy pouring a glass of fresh water from a pitcher, even his sloshing water flask hanging from his pack. But every time he lifted the water to his lips – whether glass or flask or from dipping his cupped hand in the spring or stream – the water that he brought to his mouth was dry as dust, and he knew sharp disappointment and even sharper thirst. 

But this water... he could feel the mouth of a flask against his dry, cracked lips, and instead of air or dust, this water was wet. He felt a sudden urgency – he had to drink it quickly, before it disappeared into the mists of his dreaming. But when he grabbed at the flask, hands restrained him, and someone spoke to him, gentle but firm. 

‘Steady, lad – small sips! We don’t want you to founder yourself.’ 

‘But what’s the son o’ the Thain doing out alone in the End o’ the Wood?’ 

‘Not alone,’ he tried to whisper, but another voice spoke over him. 

‘He’d be travelling with an escort, for certain... it would be worth an escort’s place to leave the lad alone in the Wood! Why, I heard the Thain is capable of banishing anyone who should put his son in peril!’ 

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Robin.’ 

‘Well, Shirriff, they say he’s a stickler for responsibility.’ 

‘No, but I’m saying no escort would ever put the Thain or his family in peril. They’ve sworn to defend them with their own lives, if need be, and some have laid down their lives, as a matter of fact, like that poor, brave fellow, some years back, who jumped between old Ferumbras and a wild boar.’ 

Another hobbit spoke from the direction of the pit. ‘I think I know where his escort is... Look there...’ 

‘What’s that, Brambling?’ came the Shirriff’s voice, moving away from Farry, towards the pit.

Farry lifted his head, tried to open his eyes, but the movement made him dizzy, and the hands holding him tightened. ‘Steady lad,’ the first voice repeated. ‘D’you think you could take another sip?’ And the flask was there again, and he wanted to speak, to plead with them to pull Uncle Ferdi from the pit. Instead, he ended nearly choking on the life-giving liquid, and the flask was taken away again while the hobbit holding him leaned him forward and slapped his back. 

‘ 'Tis a hunter's pit,’ came the answer. ‘Look here, Shirriff, something broke the cap on this side ...or mayhap it’s one of the old ruffian traps! But I thought those were all filled in...’ 

As if in a dream, Farry heard the Shirriff's near-immediate response. ‘Robin! Get yourself to the Cockerel, as fast as you may go. Bring back rope, and three litters, and hobbits to carry them, and a healer into the bargain.’ The Shirriff’s voice, giving orders, was now coming from the direction of the pit. 

‘Three litters?’ 

The Shirriff's voice sounded again, much louder than before. ‘Halloo! Can you hear me down there?’ And lower, ‘No answer ...I can’t see down there, too dark, but someone fell through – this great, gaping hole is testimony to that. The hobbits of the Thain’s escort often travel in twos. Two walking together... and if the lad were slightly to one side...’ 

‘I’ll be back before you know it!’ 

Farry gave a sigh of relief and allowed the flask to dribble more water into his mouth. ‘Good lad,’ the hobbit holding him said. Each sip that followed carried new wonder, new life. He wondered if his da and Uncle Merry had experienced this very feeling with the Ent draughts they’d drunk with Treebeard.

He considered idly how long it would take Robin to get to the Crowing Cockerel and come back with help. The world seemed misty and far away; the only reality for Faramir now was a flask that regularly returned to his lips to offer him another small sip, and an encouraging voice with it.

‘Shirriff, I just thought of a place where there’s some rope closer than the Cockerel,’ another voice spoke, accompanied by the sound of a generous armload of firewood being thrown to the ground. 

‘Where?’ 

‘Lotho’s Well – it’s only a mile or so from here, as you know. I can go and bring back the rope from the well – it ought to be long enough to reach the bottom of this one, wouldn’t you think?’ 

‘Good thinking, Chaff, you do that!’ There was a pause, then, ‘How is he, Burdock?’ 

‘Very weak, Dun... I don’t know how long he’s been out here. Do you see any sign of a flask or pack? I mean, he had his bow case and quiver on his back when we found him, but he ought to have more...’ 

The Shirriff’s voice came from further away now, no longer near the pit. ‘I think those dogs were here before we chased them halfway across the Farthing... tore everything to pieces, from the look of it. Here’s his flask... crushed... holes that look like they were made by wicked teeth... empty. Our lad is lucky to be alive, it seems.’ 

Farry must have swooned then, for when he wakened, he was warmer than he had been. He could hear the snapping of a fresh-kindled fire, and someone was wiping his face with a damp cloth. ‘Good, you’re awake.’ 

The lad tried to sit himself up, but his rescuer restrained him. ‘Steady, lad,’ he said. It was the voice he’d heard when someone had been giving him water. Water! 

He must have croaked the word, because the hobbit lifted him and then held a flask for him to drink. ‘There you are, lad, small sips.’ He strove to open his eyes, but it felt to him as if a heavy weight was attached to each eyelid. 

‘We’re ready for you, Burdock!’ 

The hobbit looked over to the side. ‘I’ll be right there!’ He laid Farry down again. ‘Now, lad, they’re going to lower me into the pit, see, and we’ll get your escort out... I need you to lie here and wait, can you do that for me? I don’t want you to try and get up and maybe fall into the fire or somewhat.’ 

Farry shook his head. ‘I won’t,’ he whispered. 

Burdock patted his shoulder. ‘Good lad. I’ll be back soon with more water.’ 

Farry was a little confused at that. Burdock was going down into the pit for more water? Was it a well after all? But Uncle Ferdi had said it was dry... Farry blinked and tried to sit up, to look and see what was happening, but he was well-wrapped, and somehow, he couldn’t keep his eyelids open. 

When he wakened again, he heard a dog whine nearby, and Burdock’s voice exclaiming, ‘Who’d’ve thought old Gammer Goodbody’s dog would end in a ruffian pit? We looked for him, after she died, but he ran off and disappeared!’ 

Farry heard the welcome sound of Ferdi’s voice. ‘You know this dog?’ 

‘Uncle Ferdi!’ 

‘As I live and breathe,’ came the answer, somewhat rasping, but very much alive. ‘Farry, lad, you don’t know what a relief it is to hear you speak.’ 

Farry nodded, his throat too tight to form any more words. ‘Steady, lad,’ another voice said, one that he didn’t recognize, and then hands were helping him to sit up. ‘Burdock here says you may have another drink if you wish.’ 

‘So you know this dog, you said,’ Ferdi asked again, and coughed. 

‘I do! He was the constant companion of my mother’s old gammer!’ Burdock said. 

‘Here sir, drink some more water.’ Chaff was the speaker, Farry thought. The one who’d gone to Lotho’s Well. His thought was confirmed when the hobbit said, ‘Fresh out o’ the well, it is.’ He sounded self-congratulatory as he added, ‘Thought I might as well bring along the bucket with the rope.’ Ferdi must have taken the hobbit’s advice, because Chaff’s next words were, ‘That’s it, sir. Small sips, now.’

Meanwhile, Burdock was still speaking. ‘She never feared going out into the Wood to gather herbs and dig roots, not with him by her side. But her old heart gave out on her, a month or two ago. Found her in her bed, looking as if she were asleep, with her door all covered in claw marks and the window busted out as if the dog had jumped through it when he couldn’t get out any other way. Poor fellow.’ 

‘Well then,’ Ferdi murmured. ‘I’m glad to know he has family to take him in. Saved my life, he did.’ 

‘Probably saved his own as well,’ the Shirriff said. ‘If he’d been with that pack of dogs when we caught up with them...’ 

‘He must’ve joined with them after Gammer died,’ Burdock said. 

‘He seems tame enough now,’ the Shirriff said. ‘And if he didn’t attack you in the pit... He might have been unsure of what you were, half a hobbit sticking out of the ground as it were, thought you were a danger, and that’s why he launched himself at you, taking you both down, as you said. I s’pose we won’t have to put him down like the others. Not unless I find him menacing livestock or hobbits.’ 

Ferdi fell silent then, and Farry certainly had nothing to say except the occasional whispered thanks. Time passed, unmarked by any clock, measured in regularly administered small sips of water for the two travellers and for the dog, and quiet conversation amongst their rescuers.

Robin’s voice was heard, calling halloo! and approaching rapidly. He jogged into the clearing, followed by ponies bearing riders... at least, all three ponies held riders as they entered the clearing, though one of the riders catapulted himself from the saddle before his mount had quite come to a halt. ‘Farry!’ 

And then Farry’s da was there, scooping him up, holding him close and chanting his name. 

Voiceless, Faramir stared in wonder, his mouth forming the word. Da!

‘There, Pip,’ the second rider said, slipping from his saddle. ‘You see? I told you it would come out right. The forester said they’d found Farry alive...’ 

‘Uncle Merry?’ Farry croaked. ‘What are you doing here?’ 

‘I might ask the same, rascal!’ Merry chuckled, though he brushed at his eyes with his hand as he knelt between Faramir and Ferdi. ‘Ah, Ferdi,’ he added. ‘From Robin’s report, we were expecting the worst!’ Lower, he said, ‘Fallen into a bottomless pit, he said, or near-bottomless, for all that mattered. So far down, he couldn't see the bottom for the dark.’  

‘Dog saved my life,’ Ferdi whispered, indicating the silvery, shaggy-furred wolfish animal, larger and heavier than many a grown hobbit, lying near him. ‘We fell into the pit together, and I landed on him instead of the stones at the bottom.’ He took a few breaths as if winded after even so short a speech. ‘Kept me warm through the long dark afterwards.’

If he or Merry said any more, Farry missed it, dozing again in the security of his father's arms. Some time later, he wasn't sure whether the time was long or short, he wakened at the sound of someone speaking nearby. 

‘Thain Peregrin, Sir,’ the Shirriff said, and from his voice, he was bending close. Farry opened his eyes, and the hobbit with the feather in his hat smiled. ‘At your service, and your family’s.’ 

‘I should say so,’ Pippin said fervently. ‘Farry, what –?’  

Another hobbit bent down, saying, ‘Let me take a look at him, Sir.’ From his manner, Farry surmised he was a healer. 

‘We had to hammer out a few details before the King comes to the Bridge,’ Merry was saying to Ferdi. ‘The Crowing Cockerel’s halfway between Tuckborough and Brandy Hall, after all, not to mention they do boast the finest beer on the Stock Road...’ 

‘Not to mention,’ Ferdi said. 

‘Pip told me about this mad scheme of yours to show the lad your journeys into danger to meet Uncle Badger near Stock and exchange information about what Lotho’s ruffians were up to,’ Merry said. ‘What I’d like to know is, why didn’t you take a whole party along? No need to put yourself in danger...’ 

‘ ’Twasn’t my idea,’ Ferdi said, coughed, and cleared his throat. ‘The lad is a stubborn Took, as you know.’ 

‘Farry, what happened?’ Pippin said as the healer went over Farry’s limbs and then lifted his shirt to prod at his abdomen. 

The lad did not protest; that odd lassitude was stealing over him again, and if there weren’t so many hobbits crowded in the clearing, all talking at once, he might have fallen asleep once more. 

‘Here Sir, we need to keep him drinking,’ Burdock said, bending close and offering a flask to the Thain. ‘Small sips. This is nice and fresh, just drawn from Lotho’s Well, as a matter of fact.’ 

‘Of course,’ Pippin said. ‘I thank you.’ He took the flask and helped Farry sip, repeating, ‘How did you come into this state? What sort of pit or cave is this, that you've discovered, or Ferdi, as it were...?’ 

Farry forced his eyes open. ‘It was one of the old ruffian traps,’ he managed to say. The water was wondrously reviving. He was also relieved that the healer had left off his examination and turned to Ferdi. 

‘I thought the engineers filled them all in!’ the Thain said indignantly. 

‘Evidently not this one,’ Ferdi said, and gave a yelp. 

‘Did that hurt?’ the healer asked. 

‘What do you think?’ Ferdi snapped indignantly. 

‘How about here?’ the healer said, unruffled, as he elicited another stifled cry from Farry's uncle. Adding insult to injury, he said, ‘Here now, sir, don't put that down! You ought to keep drinking.’ 

‘How you imagine I can drink with you poking and prodding at me – are you trying to put me out of my misery by having me choke to death?’ 

‘Drink, cousin,’ Merry said, extending his own flask. 

Ferdi took it and sipped, and his eyebrows went up. ‘Much better,’ he said. 

‘Hall’s finest,’ Merry said in an aside to Pippin. 

‘There’s nothing wrong with you, I see,’ Pippin said.  

‘Tell it to the healer!’ Ferdi said. 

‘Now, Ferdi, you know better than that. I’m only Thain. Healers don’t listen to me.’ 

‘Have another sip,’ Merry said. ‘Plenty more where that came from.’ 

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Ferdi replied. ‘I'm glad that Convocation didn't banish you after all, Merry, half-Took that you are,’ he added in a thoughtful tone. He took another sip from Merry’s flask and gave a sigh of contentment. 

‘Convocation?’ Merry said in consternation. ‘Pip, what convocation is he talking about? The Tooks had a convocation?’ 

‘He's delirious,’ the healer said. ‘Quite common when a hobbit goes too long without water,’ he added. ‘It's a sign you’re dying of thirst and need to pay heed.’  

‘Keep drinking then, cousin,’ Merry said in alarm. 

‘Water would be better,’ the healer insisted, and he nodded thanks at Burdock as the latter handed him the flask Ferdi had dropped, now freshly filled, but not containing the Hall’s finest. He put the flask into Ferdi's free hand and closed his fingers around it. ‘Do you want me to help you drink this, or can you manage on your own?’ 

‘Stop plaguing me,’ Ferdi protested in exasperation, causing his cousins to exchange worried glances. Ferdi was usually much more circumspect with healers, given their propensity to stir up nasty-tasting draughts and other unpleasant consequences for uncooperative patients. But they relaxed somewhat as he began to alternate sips of brandy with crisp, cold water from Lotho's Well. 

Perhaps putting Ferdi’s irascibility down to delirium, Hawthorn simply nodded and patted him on the shoulder, then rose to his feet, moved to the dog, and began to run his hands over the furry body and limbs.

‘In any event,’ Pippin said, sounding grim, ‘I think the engineers are going to have a new task to turn their attentions to over the coming months... I expect they’ll be studying the old maps, and checking every single pit that was dug during the Troubles. And no new excavations until the survey is complete!’ 

‘I’m sure they’ll give it their every effort,’ Merry said. ‘If only to be able to get back to digging just so soon as the weather warms in the Spring.’ 

Farry coughed, and Pippin turned his full attention back to his son. ‘Come now, Farry, another sip. I’m told this comes from Lotho’s Well, which you had planned to visit.’ He hefted the flask in a toast. ‘To the defenders of the Tookland!’ 

‘To the defenders,’ Farry echoed gladly, even though technically those same defenders had been the authors of this particular misadventure, and eagerly swallowed the water his father offered him, cold and sweet. 

‘Healer Hawthorn,’ the Shirriff said. ‘Are they fit to be moved?’ 

‘I think we can safely carry them back to the Cockerel,’ the healer said. ‘I wouldn’t take them any further than that, however. I’d like them to rest there through the night, where I can keep an eye on them.’  

‘And the dog?’ Ferdi said. 

‘Dogs are resilient creatures,’ Hawthorn said. ‘He’ll probably be on his feet before you are.’ 

Burdock spoke up. ‘If you don’t mind, Robin, Chaff, Brambling, we’ll carry Snowdrop on a litter to my parents’ – I’m sure they’ll take him in. My old dad looked for him for days...’ 

‘Snowdrop!’ Merry said in an undertone. ‘Snowbank would be a more fitting name.’ 

‘Blizzard, perhaps,’ someone else muttered. 

‘In any event,’ the healer said, cutting into the conversation, ‘I’d like to get these hobbits inside, out of the chill, into warm baths and then beds, and make sure they get some hot food, as much as they wish to eat.’ 

‘That’s the most agreeable thing a healer has ever said to me,’ Ferdi said to no one in particular, and Merry laughed.  

Hawthorn looked over from his examination of the dog and raised his voice slightly. ‘Thain Peregrin, if you please!’ 

‘Healer Hawthorn,’ Pippin responded. 

‘If you would like to send for a coach to bear them back to the Great Smials on the morrow,’ the healer said, getting up from the dog's side and dusting his hands, ‘I think with food, water, and rest through the remainder of the afternoon and evening, and a good breakfast on the morrow, they should be ready to take their leave.’ 

‘We can send a quick post rider to the forest Bolgers at the same time, to spare them from worrying when Farry and Ferdi fail to turn up on time,’ Pippin said. ‘Haldi! See to it.’  

‘Yes Sir, as you wish,’ the escort said from somewhere behind them. ‘I’m that glad, Sir, to see the lad's all right,’ he added. 

‘Thanks to you, in part,’ Farry said, but his voice was faint in his own ears. He’d have to tell the hobbits of the escort all about how their lessons had kept him alive through his ordeal. Later. 

‘Steady lad, rest now,’ his father said, breaking into the young Took’s thoughts. ‘Here are the litters, and bearers into the bargain. We’ll have you to the Cockerel in time for tea.’  

Farry breathed a sigh of relief. This busy clearing, that had been so quiet and desolate only a few hours before, the babble of voices on all sides, the hands that lifted him onto a litter... it was all becoming real to him. This was not one of his dreams of rescue. 

His father took his hand and walked beside him, letting Haldi, the archer who’d escorted the Thain to the Cockerel, lead his pony back to the inn.  

‘You’re really here,’ Farry said, looking up into his father’s face. 

‘Of course I am,’ Pippin said with a squeeze for Farry’s hand. ‘I’m just glad your Uncle Merry and I were meeting at the Cockerel when that forester came panting into the common room.’ He shook his head. ‘I would hate to have found out second-hand, by pony post.’ 

‘I’m just glad we were found,’ Farry whispered. ‘Da?’ he added. 

‘What is it, dear heart?’ 

Farry swallowed. He still felt as if he could drink the Brandywine River and not have done, but he was feeling much better than he had only an hour earlier. ‘I think I’ve had enough of retracing old paths for the time being.’ He took a breath. ‘Is it all right with you if we put off any more journeying for a time?’ He held the next breath, afraid his father might see him as a coward, or weak. In truth, he was simply very tired. 

Pippin smiled down at his eldest son and gave Farry’s hand another squeeze. ‘I think that’s a wise idea, lad. For the time being, we’ll leave off any plans for journeying.’ 

***  

To Be Continued...