auntiemeesh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
auntiemeesh) wrote2006-06-18 03:29 pm
auntiemeesh) wrote2006-06-18 03:29 pm
The Luster of Snow update
Thanks to the kicks, nudges and poking with sharp sticks I received in response to my plea, here is chapter six of Luster, including the snippet I posted a while ago. It's kinda short, but I included a little bit of everything, I think.
The Luster of Snow, chapters 1-5
Chapter Six
It was a long night for Paladin and Eglantine. Pippin was restless, the pain in his leg keeping him from settling into deep sleep but the sedatives preventing him from real wakefulness. Just shy of dawn there was a soft knock at the door. Eglantine had just given Pippin his latest dose of medicine and was crooning softly to him, easing him back into whatever rest he could get, so Pal went to see who it was.
Answering the summons, Paladin was surprised to find his cousin Reginard outside the room, looking rather pale. Stepping into the hall so as not to disturb Pippin, he waited to hear the news.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Pal, but it’s Ferumbras. He took a turn for the worse a few hours ago. Dag’s with him now, but it doesn’t look good. I doubt he’ll live out the day. The others have begun to gather.”
Paladin sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before nodding. “Thank you for letting me know, Reggie. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right along.”
“Aye,” Reggie answered solemnly, “I’ll let the family know you’re on the way.”
Cursing the timing of this, Pal quietly slipped back into the room. Inside the door, he just stood for a moment, looking at his youngest child, wrapped in blankets except for the bandaged and splinted leg which lay atop the covers. The lad looked alarmingly fragile and Pal didn’t want to leave his side. He had no choice, however, and felt an unexpected flash of anger that Ferumbras couldn’t have held on just another day or two. Shaking those thoughts away, he approached the bed. Eglantine looked up as he walked over to her, face softening into sorrow as she read his body language.
“Ferumbras?” she asked quietly.
“Aye. I’m sorry, love, but I have to go and I don’t expect I’ll be able to get away again any time soon.” Bending, he pressed a light kiss to her temple, lingering just a moment before pulling away. “I’ll make sure Dag’s apprentice comes by shortly to check on Pippin.”
A few minutes later, Paladin stood at the side of another sickbed, this one surrounded by grim, sorrowing faces. Ferumbras was struggling for each breath, eyes closed, skin yellow and papery, lying in folds over a frame that had shrunk considerably in these last few months of illness. The room was hushed, the Thain’s gasping breaths the only sound.
Ferumbras had no immediate family left to him, having no siblings or children, but several cousins had gathered to ease his passing. Reginard and his father, Adelard, stood to one side of the bed, while Rosamunda and Oldovacar Bolger stood at the foot. Ferdinand Took stood on the opposite side of the bed, leaving a space beside him, near the head of the bed. Paladin nodded to each of his cousins as he moved into the space left for him. In this way they provided a guard of honor for their cousin and head of family. Although they moved aside for Dag as the healer moved about the room, checking his patient, mixing and measuring medicines by the fire and administering doses, they never left Ferumbras’ side.
It was nearly noon when Ferumbras awoke, looking around him through clouded eyes. “Paladin?” he rasped weakly.
“I’m here,” Paladin answered, moving closer to the bed and gently clasping the Thain’s age-spotted and gnarled hand.
“Now…is your…turn,” Ferumbras said, pausing to breathe between words. “You…will make…good…Thain and…Took. Have…my…” there was a long pause while he struggled to find the strength to continue. “Have…my…approval.” The old hobbit smiled, just a slight hint of curving lips, and then closed his eyes with a sigh.
Paladin set Ferumbras’ hand back down upon the coverlet gently and stepped back slightly, allowing Dag to move closer. The healer fussed around the dying hobbit for several minutes before settling at his side, fingers pressed lightly to the pulse point on Ferumbras’ wrist.
They waited another half hour like this, listening to each harsh, rattling breath, waiting for the next, until inevitably there came a silence, a moment when the awaited breath did not come. Finally, Dag stood and turned to Paladin. “He is gone.”
***
Pippin woke to enticing smells curling about his nose, teasing him. Opening his eyes, he blinked groggily in the dimness of the room, trying to determine the time and where that delicious smell was coming from. It was only when he shifted slightly in the bed and pain flooded through him that he remembered the events of the previous day.
Shifting again, but much more cautiously this time, he turned his head to see his mother sitting in a rocking chair that had been pulled up next to his bed. She must have been knitting earlier, but now the needles were held loosely in slack hands as she slept.
The previous evening and night were mostly a blur of exhaustion and discomfort for Pippin, but he did remember that every time he awoke during the long night, his mum had been sitting at his side. Da had been there most of the night as well, he thought, although he was no longer here.
“Mum?” he whispered, torn between a desire to let her sleep and a pressing need to use the privy.
“What is it, Pippin, dear?” Eglantine asked, leaning forward and placing a hand on his forehead, instantly awake.
The next few minutes were very uncomfortable for Pippin, both from the pain in his leg, and from embarrassment at requiring assistance in tending to private needs. Unexpectedly, although his mother clucked soothingly over him every time he was unable to bite back a moan of pain, she gave him very little sympathy for his embarrassment.
“You’re going to be abed for several weeks, at the least, Pippin, my lad, so you might as well get used to it.” She spoke firmly over his complaints, although her hands remained gentle as she helped him settle back against a pile of pillows, after.
Pippin thought to protest that ‘several weeks’ but he was already tired again, and hungry, and he could still smell something good drifting on the air so he decided to let it go, for now. There would be plenty of time later for arguments.
Seeming to read his thoughts, Eglantine smiled. “Are you hungry? Cook made you a nice lamb stew.”
“Will I be allowed to feed myself?” Pippin couldn’t refrain from asking, trying to joke but sounding a bit sullen even to his own ears.
“I don’t know, are your arms broken?” Eglantine asked in return, bringing the tray over and placing it on the bed. In addition to the stew there were also, it turned out, split rolls, still warm from the oven, with toasted cheese.
Pippin’s eyes lit up as he surveyed the meal, but he found, much to his surprise, that he was only able to eat a small portion of the food. Pushing the rest away, he closed his eyes against the growing pain in his leg.
“Here, my lad. Drink this up and then you may sleep.” His mother placed a mug in his hands and he obediently brought it to his lips, wrinkling his nose at the smell. The taste was no better and he swallowed it down as quickly as he could.
“Gah!” he protested as he handed the mug back. “That’s awful, that is.”
“I know, love, but it will ease the pain and help you rest. Have a sip of tea now, to clear out your mouth. There,” she crooned as Pippin drank, “you’ll soon feel much better.”
Pippin was weary and the tonic strong so it was not long before he was half-asleep, but before he could slide away entirely, he reached out and grabbed Eglantine’s hand. “Love you,” he murmured before closing his eyes and giving in to the pull of sleep.
***
Although the weather had held clear over night and the road was passable, Merry had decided that the better part of valor might be to rent a pony from the inn and ride the rest of the way to Bag End. He wasn’t a fool, after all, and even with the roads cleared, there would still be enough snow to trek through that he didn’t fancy the idea. A brief word with the innkeeper was sufficient to arrange things and he set out with little delay.
Singing softly to himself, he quickly settled into the rhythm of travel and lost himself in thoughts of bonny shop lasses (or at least one in particular). He saw few other travelers during the day, other than a post rider galloping east in great haste, sometime past noon. He entertained himself for a short while wondering who had sent such an urgent message, who was to receive it, and what it might be, but his thoughts soon drifted back to twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.
It was late afternoon when Merry reached Bywater and he gave thought to stopping at the Ivy Bush for a half pint before continuing. He was already a day late to Bag End, however, and decided to push on through. Frodo always had excellent stock on hand and if they were in the mood, they could always go down to the Green Dragon after supper. Nodding to himself in satisfaction at this plan, he clucked at the pony and continued on.
A short time later Merry pulled up at the gate in front of Bag End. Dismounting, he tied the pony to the gatepost, slipped the latch and swung the gate open. Pack slung over his shoulder, he strode up the muddy path to the bright green front door.
***
“Hello, cousin. Did you forget I was coming?”
Frodo jumped in his seat at the sudden sound. Turning, he spied Merry lounging in the doorway of his study, pack slung over one shoulder and muddy feet just shy of the carpet.
“My goodness, Meriadoc, do you no longer knock before entering another hobbit’s smial?” he scolded to cover his fright.
“I’ll have you know, cousin Frodo,” Merry replied without a trace of apology, “that I’ve been standing on your doorstep for the past ten minutes, knocking. It’s not my fault if you’ve been too absorbed in your work to notice.” He leaned forward slightly, as though attempting to see what Frodo was working on without stepping onto the carpet.
Frodo sighed and set down his quill. “I’m sorry, Merry. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m also sorry to keep you waiting out in the cold. I’m being a terribly bad host.” Pushing back from his desk, he stood. “Come. You look as though you could use a bath. I’ve got water heating.”
Leading the way to the bathing room, he asked after Merry’s travels and smiled over the younger hobbit as Merry lingered in his description of Estella Bolger and skimmed over the rest of the account with an unusual brevity.
“Here,” he said as they reached the bathing room, “you get cleaned up and I’ll prepare you a snack. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Leaving Merry to freshen up, he set tea to steep and gathered bread, honey, strawberry jam and cheese onto a tray, which he carried into the parlor. When Merry rejoined him a short time later, dressed in clean clothes but with his hair still damp, Frodo poured the tea.
“Now, what had you so absorbed, Frodo my lad, that you didn’t even hear the knocking on your door?” Merry asked after eating a generous portion of the ‘snack’ Frodo had set out.
“I was working on a speech – a eulogy, rather.” Frodo paused for a moment, thinking upon the letter sitting on his desk. “Thain Ferumbras died today, I’m afraid. I received word shortly before you arrived. I know you were planning a visit to the Great Smials anyway, but it seems it will be happening sooner than you expected. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”
tbc
The Luster of Snow, chapters 1-5
Chapter Six
It was a long night for Paladin and Eglantine. Pippin was restless, the pain in his leg keeping him from settling into deep sleep but the sedatives preventing him from real wakefulness. Just shy of dawn there was a soft knock at the door. Eglantine had just given Pippin his latest dose of medicine and was crooning softly to him, easing him back into whatever rest he could get, so Pal went to see who it was.
Answering the summons, Paladin was surprised to find his cousin Reginard outside the room, looking rather pale. Stepping into the hall so as not to disturb Pippin, he waited to hear the news.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Pal, but it’s Ferumbras. He took a turn for the worse a few hours ago. Dag’s with him now, but it doesn’t look good. I doubt he’ll live out the day. The others have begun to gather.”
Paladin sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before nodding. “Thank you for letting me know, Reggie. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right along.”
“Aye,” Reggie answered solemnly, “I’ll let the family know you’re on the way.”
Cursing the timing of this, Pal quietly slipped back into the room. Inside the door, he just stood for a moment, looking at his youngest child, wrapped in blankets except for the bandaged and splinted leg which lay atop the covers. The lad looked alarmingly fragile and Pal didn’t want to leave his side. He had no choice, however, and felt an unexpected flash of anger that Ferumbras couldn’t have held on just another day or two. Shaking those thoughts away, he approached the bed. Eglantine looked up as he walked over to her, face softening into sorrow as she read his body language.
“Ferumbras?” she asked quietly.
“Aye. I’m sorry, love, but I have to go and I don’t expect I’ll be able to get away again any time soon.” Bending, he pressed a light kiss to her temple, lingering just a moment before pulling away. “I’ll make sure Dag’s apprentice comes by shortly to check on Pippin.”
A few minutes later, Paladin stood at the side of another sickbed, this one surrounded by grim, sorrowing faces. Ferumbras was struggling for each breath, eyes closed, skin yellow and papery, lying in folds over a frame that had shrunk considerably in these last few months of illness. The room was hushed, the Thain’s gasping breaths the only sound.
Ferumbras had no immediate family left to him, having no siblings or children, but several cousins had gathered to ease his passing. Reginard and his father, Adelard, stood to one side of the bed, while Rosamunda and Oldovacar Bolger stood at the foot. Ferdinand Took stood on the opposite side of the bed, leaving a space beside him, near the head of the bed. Paladin nodded to each of his cousins as he moved into the space left for him. In this way they provided a guard of honor for their cousin and head of family. Although they moved aside for Dag as the healer moved about the room, checking his patient, mixing and measuring medicines by the fire and administering doses, they never left Ferumbras’ side.
It was nearly noon when Ferumbras awoke, looking around him through clouded eyes. “Paladin?” he rasped weakly.
“I’m here,” Paladin answered, moving closer to the bed and gently clasping the Thain’s age-spotted and gnarled hand.
“Now…is your…turn,” Ferumbras said, pausing to breathe between words. “You…will make…good…Thain and…Took. Have…my…” there was a long pause while he struggled to find the strength to continue. “Have…my…approval.” The old hobbit smiled, just a slight hint of curving lips, and then closed his eyes with a sigh.
Paladin set Ferumbras’ hand back down upon the coverlet gently and stepped back slightly, allowing Dag to move closer. The healer fussed around the dying hobbit for several minutes before settling at his side, fingers pressed lightly to the pulse point on Ferumbras’ wrist.
They waited another half hour like this, listening to each harsh, rattling breath, waiting for the next, until inevitably there came a silence, a moment when the awaited breath did not come. Finally, Dag stood and turned to Paladin. “He is gone.”
***
Pippin woke to enticing smells curling about his nose, teasing him. Opening his eyes, he blinked groggily in the dimness of the room, trying to determine the time and where that delicious smell was coming from. It was only when he shifted slightly in the bed and pain flooded through him that he remembered the events of the previous day.
Shifting again, but much more cautiously this time, he turned his head to see his mother sitting in a rocking chair that had been pulled up next to his bed. She must have been knitting earlier, but now the needles were held loosely in slack hands as she slept.
The previous evening and night were mostly a blur of exhaustion and discomfort for Pippin, but he did remember that every time he awoke during the long night, his mum had been sitting at his side. Da had been there most of the night as well, he thought, although he was no longer here.
“Mum?” he whispered, torn between a desire to let her sleep and a pressing need to use the privy.
“What is it, Pippin, dear?” Eglantine asked, leaning forward and placing a hand on his forehead, instantly awake.
The next few minutes were very uncomfortable for Pippin, both from the pain in his leg, and from embarrassment at requiring assistance in tending to private needs. Unexpectedly, although his mother clucked soothingly over him every time he was unable to bite back a moan of pain, she gave him very little sympathy for his embarrassment.
“You’re going to be abed for several weeks, at the least, Pippin, my lad, so you might as well get used to it.” She spoke firmly over his complaints, although her hands remained gentle as she helped him settle back against a pile of pillows, after.
Pippin thought to protest that ‘several weeks’ but he was already tired again, and hungry, and he could still smell something good drifting on the air so he decided to let it go, for now. There would be plenty of time later for arguments.
Seeming to read his thoughts, Eglantine smiled. “Are you hungry? Cook made you a nice lamb stew.”
“Will I be allowed to feed myself?” Pippin couldn’t refrain from asking, trying to joke but sounding a bit sullen even to his own ears.
“I don’t know, are your arms broken?” Eglantine asked in return, bringing the tray over and placing it on the bed. In addition to the stew there were also, it turned out, split rolls, still warm from the oven, with toasted cheese.
Pippin’s eyes lit up as he surveyed the meal, but he found, much to his surprise, that he was only able to eat a small portion of the food. Pushing the rest away, he closed his eyes against the growing pain in his leg.
“Here, my lad. Drink this up and then you may sleep.” His mother placed a mug in his hands and he obediently brought it to his lips, wrinkling his nose at the smell. The taste was no better and he swallowed it down as quickly as he could.
“Gah!” he protested as he handed the mug back. “That’s awful, that is.”
“I know, love, but it will ease the pain and help you rest. Have a sip of tea now, to clear out your mouth. There,” she crooned as Pippin drank, “you’ll soon feel much better.”
Pippin was weary and the tonic strong so it was not long before he was half-asleep, but before he could slide away entirely, he reached out and grabbed Eglantine’s hand. “Love you,” he murmured before closing his eyes and giving in to the pull of sleep.
***
Although the weather had held clear over night and the road was passable, Merry had decided that the better part of valor might be to rent a pony from the inn and ride the rest of the way to Bag End. He wasn’t a fool, after all, and even with the roads cleared, there would still be enough snow to trek through that he didn’t fancy the idea. A brief word with the innkeeper was sufficient to arrange things and he set out with little delay.
Singing softly to himself, he quickly settled into the rhythm of travel and lost himself in thoughts of bonny shop lasses (or at least one in particular). He saw few other travelers during the day, other than a post rider galloping east in great haste, sometime past noon. He entertained himself for a short while wondering who had sent such an urgent message, who was to receive it, and what it might be, but his thoughts soon drifted back to twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.
It was late afternoon when Merry reached Bywater and he gave thought to stopping at the Ivy Bush for a half pint before continuing. He was already a day late to Bag End, however, and decided to push on through. Frodo always had excellent stock on hand and if they were in the mood, they could always go down to the Green Dragon after supper. Nodding to himself in satisfaction at this plan, he clucked at the pony and continued on.
A short time later Merry pulled up at the gate in front of Bag End. Dismounting, he tied the pony to the gatepost, slipped the latch and swung the gate open. Pack slung over his shoulder, he strode up the muddy path to the bright green front door.
***
“Hello, cousin. Did you forget I was coming?”
Frodo jumped in his seat at the sudden sound. Turning, he spied Merry lounging in the doorway of his study, pack slung over one shoulder and muddy feet just shy of the carpet.
“My goodness, Meriadoc, do you no longer knock before entering another hobbit’s smial?” he scolded to cover his fright.
“I’ll have you know, cousin Frodo,” Merry replied without a trace of apology, “that I’ve been standing on your doorstep for the past ten minutes, knocking. It’s not my fault if you’ve been too absorbed in your work to notice.” He leaned forward slightly, as though attempting to see what Frodo was working on without stepping onto the carpet.
Frodo sighed and set down his quill. “I’m sorry, Merry. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m also sorry to keep you waiting out in the cold. I’m being a terribly bad host.” Pushing back from his desk, he stood. “Come. You look as though you could use a bath. I’ve got water heating.”
Leading the way to the bathing room, he asked after Merry’s travels and smiled over the younger hobbit as Merry lingered in his description of Estella Bolger and skimmed over the rest of the account with an unusual brevity.
“Here,” he said as they reached the bathing room, “you get cleaned up and I’ll prepare you a snack. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Leaving Merry to freshen up, he set tea to steep and gathered bread, honey, strawberry jam and cheese onto a tray, which he carried into the parlor. When Merry rejoined him a short time later, dressed in clean clothes but with his hair still damp, Frodo poured the tea.
“Now, what had you so absorbed, Frodo my lad, that you didn’t even hear the knocking on your door?” Merry asked after eating a generous portion of the ‘snack’ Frodo had set out.
“I was working on a speech – a eulogy, rather.” Frodo paused for a moment, thinking upon the letter sitting on his desk. “Thain Ferumbras died today, I’m afraid. I received word shortly before you arrived. I know you were planning a visit to the Great Smials anyway, but it seems it will be happening sooner than you expected. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”
tbc