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auntiemeeshThe Luster of Snow is finished. Completely done. Woohoo!
I wrote the first chapter of this way back in January of 2006 and worked on it off and on for awhile, posting bits as I went. This was bad of me. And then it seemed like it might never get finished, which was even worse of me. But really, it's only been sixteen months since I last updated. And I have the excuse of grad school distracting me from working on it for twelve of those months.
Yeah, okay. I'm lame, and I'm never posting a WIP again, that much I promise. Anyway, I'm reposting it here, in it's entirety, for those of you who desire a refresher, or never read it in the first place (very wise of you). However, if you just want to read the final section, feel free to skip to the second cut tag on the next post (lj post length limits suck, man).
Pertinent info with the blah-di-blah, here:
Title: Luster of Snow
Rating: PG
Fandom: LotR
Characters/Pairings: Hobbits, none (well, hints of Merry and Estella, pre-relationship)
Word count: 18616
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the laptop on which I'm posting this, and I'm making no profit from it.
The Luster of Snow
Chapter One
The snow had taken on a pearly luster in the pale light of early afternoon. An event as rare as half a foot of snow falling in the Shire had been met with excited squeals from young lads and lasses who’d never seen so much snow in their short lives. Even older hobbits, well aware of the difficulties this sort of snowfall would cause, could not hold back an admission of the beauty it presented.
At Great Smials, all the younglings had been released from lessons and duties for the afternoon, so that they could romp and play to their heart’s content. Pippin, who also wished to head out for a good romp, was still inside. Thain Ferumbras was ill, dying really. He’d been ill for nearly two years now, and the end was very near. Pippin’s father, Paladin, had gradually taken on more and more of the Thain’s duties, until by now he was doing nearly everything but signing the papers. Pippin, too, had found his duties increasing. As his father’s only son, he would someday become Thain himself. In the meantime he had assumed a position that was half assistant, half apprentice to his father. Not yet twenty-five, he found it sometimes (well, almost always, to be honest) rather trying to be kept indoors, cooped up with books and duties all day.
Today was one of those days. Paladin was meeting with Thain Ferumbras’ healers and Pippin was in his study, sorting through old records, trying to find documentation to back up a decision his father had recently made, which was being questioned by certain unmentionable elders who were determined to make the transition of power as difficult as possible.
It was hard to concentrate, though, with all the noise coming in through the windows. Sighing, Pippin stood to close the shutters but paused, his attention caught by the sight of the children running and playing in the snow.
“Pippin?”
The sound of his father’s voice brought Pippin out of his reverie. Judging by the change in the light outside, a good half hour had passed while he stood mesmerized by the window. Feeling his cheeks warm, he returned to his desk. “I’m sorry, Da. I’ll get right back to work.” Sitting down with a bump, he bowed his head over the scattered papers, determined not to get distracted again.
There was a long moment of silence and Pippin was beginning to think his father had left the room, when Paladin gave a soft cough right behind his shoulder.
“Go on, son. You’ve worked at this long enough for one day.” There was a weariness in his father’s voice that made Pippin want to cringe, although he held still.
“I’m not done, yet, Da,” he protested, against his own desire for freedom as much as his father’s offer. “Here, look at this,” he pulled over a thick ledger covered in cracked leather. Opening it to a marked page near the back, he pointed. “In 1242, Fortinbras the First encountered a similar difficulty when some of the oldest tunnels in the Smials began to show signs of instability.”
He would have continued but Paladin cut him off. Shaking his head, the older hobbit smiled as he clapped his son on the shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job, Pippin, but it’s time to take a break. You need some fresh air; you’re looking a bit peaked and your mother would never forgive me if you fell ill from too much studying.”
Pippin continued to argue, reaching for another heavy tome, until his father clapped hands on either side of his shoulders. “Go on, off with you, now. The books will still be here when you get back.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Pippin hesitated a final moment, then bolted for the door, throwing a thank you over his shoulder. Without pausing for thought, he ran along the corridor between his family’s private suite and the kitchens, skidding to a slightly breathless stop just in time to prevent himself from sending a middle-aged laundress crashing to the floor with a basket of clean linens.
“Here now, young master,” the matron scolded as she attempted to regain her composure, “you oughtn’t be runnin’ through the halls like some wild thing. Not at your age!”
“I’m sorry, Amaryllis,” Pippin gasped, taking the basket from her hands. “Here, let me help you with this.”
“Impertinence!” Amaryllis snapped, retrieving the basket from Pippin’s hands. “You just go on about your business, Master Pippin, and leave the laundry to me.” Despite her harsh tone, she was unable to hold back a smile. Pippin could charm the skin off a snake, and he knew it.
“Yes ma’am,” he answered with a grin, and took off once again, at a pace that was only slightly slower. Around the corner and through the kitchen he went, stopping briefly to grab a loaf and some dried fruit before picking up speed again as he veered through the back hallway, until he came to an intersection. Turning right, he headed back into the Smials, tracing a labyrinthine path to his room.
Once safely there, he grabbed a small, worn knapsack from the back of his wardrobe and set it on his bed. Into this bag he threw a small pouch of coins, a water bottle, and the food he’d liberated from the kitchen. Pulling the top closed, he rummaged through his clothes press until he found a pair of thick woolen stockings, way down at the bottom. Turning to the wardrobe next, he found the old pair of boots he’d last worn three years ago. He looked at them with a jaundiced eye, but it was too cold to go walking through the snow without some sort of foot-covering; sighing, he pulled the stockings on and stamped his feet into the boots, grimacing in distaste at the binding sensation. Lastly, he shrugged into his warmest coat and pulled his cloak on over it. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he left his room and headed for the private door his family generally used for their comings and goings.
Once outside, he inhaled deeply of the cold, crisp air and shrugged aside all of the concerns he’d been carrying around for the past several months. They would be waiting for him upon his return, he knew, but for the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. For this one afternoon, he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted, and what he wanted right now was to go for a long ramble in the woods east of Tuckborough. It was a lengthy walk and the sun had passed the zenith some time since, but he’d been cooped inside far too long, fettered with familial responsibilities and sadness. He’d come to know Cousin Ferumbras well in the past few years and it hurt him to see the older hobbit lingering in such pain. Now that Pippin was outside, however, he was going to make the most of it.
Whistling cheerfully, he set out down the hill to the road leading into Tuckborough. Although he found the boots cumbersome and annoying, they did not slow him down significantly and he made good time, reaching the thriving town just as hunger began to hit.
“Well, look who it is, Master Peregrin Took himself!”
“Hullo, Gordie,” Pippin said, clasping his friend’s hand. “I’m surprised to see you out on such a cold day.”
“You’re a fine one to speak,” Gordie retorted, conspicuously eyeing Pippin’s boots. His own feet were bare and looking rather cold.
“I’ve the whole afternoon free,” Pippin said, unable to contain the burbling excitement in his voice. “I’m off to the woods, if you’d like to join me.”
“You’re daft,” the other hobbit laughed. “I’m freezing. Hobbits weren’t made for the snow. I’m just running to the market for me mam and then it’s straight home.” Gordie suddenly grinned. “You should come home with me. Mam’ll have a nice pot o’ stew ready for supper and she never minds havin’ an extra mouth to feed.”
“Thanks, Gordie,” Pippin answered, “but I want to be outside today. I’ve been cooped up in that dark, stuffy little study for weeks now and I just want to feel the wind and snow on my face.”
“Well, be seein’ you, then.” With a wave, Gordie trudged off, pulling his snow-covered cloak tight about him. Pippin smiled at his friend’s back for a moment before moving along, himself. He’d thought briefly about stopping in at the Sheaf and Shears for a bite and a sip, but thought he’d better wait until after his walk. It would be dark all too soon and he didn’t want to waste a single precious moment. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a handful of dried fruit and munched on that as he walked along.
He soon left the town behind and was deep under the trees, lost in a reverie. There was a certain stillness to the late afternoon; a hush that was full of the soft sounds of wind ruffling through the pine boughs, the susurrus of snow hitting snow, the creak of limbs bending under the weight of that snow. It felt to Pippin as though the entire world had paused with him for a moment. Walking idly through the woods, his worries and fears quieted and all that was left was a gentle peace.
Chapter two
Pippin wandered aimlessly through the woods for well over an hour, breathing deeply of the fresh air and relishing the quiet. Only when the light of the setting sun glanced through the trees did he begin to think about retracing his steps. Looking around to get his bearings, he frowned. He’d gone farther into the woods than he’d realized; it was going to be a long walk back to Tuckborough.
“No matter,” he told himself, speaking aloud, his voice echoing through the stillness of the snowy woods and startling a hare; the creature bounded off in a flurry of disturbed snow, bringing a smile to Pippin’s face. Taking his cue from the departed hare, he adjusted his pack and set off in the direction of home.
The snow was not as deep under the trees, a fact Pippin appreciated more and more as he walked. Unaccustomed to wearing boots, he found them cumbersome and uncomfortable. They were heavy, slowing him down, and the back of his left heel was starting to burn painfully with every step. At least it wasn’t still snowing, he reflected. Or at least, no new snow was reaching him under the trees, aside from the occasional clump that fell from an overloaded branch.
It wasn’t until the last light from the setting sun disappeared that Pippin realized he’d failed to bring a lantern along. “Well, that was just daft,” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t sure exactly when his lovely, idyllic afternoon had turned sour, but it was definitely feeling less lovely by the minute now. It grew quite dark very quickly, with clouds covering what little bit of the sky showed through the trees. There was a faint illumination from the snow, but only just enough to let Pippin pick a path around shadowy trees and indistinct lumps that might be drifts of snow or fallen limbs and no way to tell the difference until he banged a toe against something solid. To make matters worse, the temperature was dropping and a bitter wind had risen with the setting of the sun.
Wrapping his cloak tightly about him and pulling his hood close to his face, Pippin slogged on, muttering to himself about the stupidity of a hobbit who couldn’t even remember to bring a lantern when going for a ramble in the woods late in the afternoon in the winter. Luckily, he knew these woods well and even the unfamiliarity of dark and snow was not enough to turn him around. He knew where he was and it wouldn’t take more than half an hour or so to make his way to the edge of the trees, he reasoned, and from there it was a short walk to Tuckborough. To distract himself from the cold while he walked, Pippin allowed himself to daydream about arriving at the Sheaf and Shears, where a pert young serving lass would bring him a piping hot bowl of lamb stew, or maybe some lovely fried potatoes with sausage. Yes, that sounded like just the thing.
Walking briskly and thinking about a hot meal and a pretty lass soon had Pippin feeling much better and he began to enjoy his walk again. He was humming a popular walking song under his breath when an ominously loud crack caught his attention. He paused for a moment as he tried to locate the source of the sound, which echoed through the woods confusingly, but saw nothing that looked out of the ordinary. He took another step forward just as there was another sharp crack, this time clearly coming from above. He looked up in time to see a thick pine branch, overly laden with heavy snow, break away from a tree directly to his right. He had just enough time to register his danger but not enough time to get clear before the limb struck him.
***
The common room of the Floating Log, Frogmorton’s only inn, was crowded with hobbits come to complain about the snow, drink a pint with their pals or just escape the cold for a bit. Merry sat at one end of a long common table, nursing a half and finishing up his supper. He was bored, having been cooped up in Frogmorton all day with very little to do. He’d stopped here last night on his way to Bag End for a visit and the overnight snow had stranded him. If only he hadn’t insisted on walking, he lamented again. Sometimes Frodo was just a bad influence, and Merry vowed to tell him that as soon as he reached Bag End. If he ever reached Bag End.
“Ah, Mr. Merry,” the innkeeper came over to his side. “I’ve some good news for you. The post rider just made it through, and he said the roads are in pretty good shape between here and Hobbiton. Provided we don’t get any fresh snow overnight, you should be able to go on tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Ham,” Merry said with a grin. “In that case I’ll wish for clear skies tonight.” Downing the last of his ale, he stood. It was early yet, and there were hours to pass before bed. Merry decided to take a stroll around the town before retiring to his room. Bidding the landlord good afternoon, he pulled on his cloak and headed out.
It was cold and dark outside, with a thin veil of clouds covering most of the sky. Looking up, Merry saw a few bright, intrepid stars peeking through the veil, but most would stay hidden tonight. Sighing, Merry just hoped the clouds would hold off dumping any more snow on the Shire until after he’d finished his journey.
Frogmorton was a thriving town, straddling the East Road, with several smaller lanes and byways branching off on each side. Merry spent an hour diverting himself by wandering up and down the lanes. Most of the shops were closed at this hour, but he found a glassblower’s shop that was still open. A little bell above the door tinkled when he walked in, and a young lass came out of a back room to greet him.
“Hello, sir. May I help you with anything?” She was a bonny lass, Merry decided, with rosy cheeks, light brown hair pulled back in a braid and covered with a kerchief, and a pleasingly plump figure. Taking a second glance, he thought she looked familiar.
“Estella Bolger?” he asked, uncertain.
“Aye,” she paused in her own turn, scrutinizing him. “Ah, Meriadoc Brandybuck. I thought you looked familiar when you came in.” She blushed, only slightly, as she said his name.
“And has your family taken up glassblowing, then?” Merry asked, thinking it odd that Fatty hadn’t mentioned such.
“This is my uncle’s shop,” she answered pertly. “Mum’s brother Boldin. His wife is feeling poorly right now, so I’m helping out with the store until she’s better.”
“I see,” Merry murmured. He felt oddly unprepared for this encounter and couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. The last time he’d seen Estella, she had been a skinny little teen with dirty feet and a sunburnt face. Now, well, now didn’t bear too much thinking about with her standing right there waiting to find out how she could help him.
“I…ah…I’m looking for a…gift…for my Aunt,” he said, thankful for the inspiration. He had, after all, planned to stop at the Smials at some point during this visit with Frodo, and it would be a nice gesture to take Aunt Teenie something.
“Well, feel free to look around, and if there’s anything I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask.” Estella smiled and a dimple appeared on her cheek.
Merry smiled back, feeling suddenly much less disgruntled about being stuck in Frogmorton. With new purpose, he began to wander through the shop, looking for just the right thing for his aunt and thinking about the unexpectedly fetching Estella Bolger.
***
Frodo wasn’t at all surprised when Merry didn’t make it to Bag End that day. Poor Sam had barely been able to make it down to Hobbiton that morning to get some much needed supplies for the Widow Rumble. It took time for all the roads and lanes to get shoveled out, and Frodo knew that Merry had planned to walk. What that lad was thinking, walking all the way from Buckland in the middle of winter, Frodo didn’t know, but Merry had insisted it would be fine, and he was old enough to make his own decisions.
A knock at the door brought Frodo out of his introspection. It was Gaffer Gamgee, looking unhappy at having disturbed the Master.
“Good evening, Hamfast,” Frodo greeted him warmly. “Is there something I can do for you?” It was unusual for the Gaffer to come up to Bag End so late and Frodo hoped nothing was amiss.
“Nay, t’is nothin’ like that,” the Gaffer replied. “T’is just that my Bell did the bakin’ today. I would’a sent it up with Sam, but t’poor lad’s done in, with all the snow-clearin’ he done today, and I couldn’t send the lasses out in this weather.”
Frodo accepted the basket handed over to him by the Gaffer. “Please come in for a moment while I put this away.”
Ham stepped through the door, scraping his feet on the sill first, and then stood awkwardly in the hallway. For all the years he’d served first Bilbo and now Frodo, he’d never become comfortable at being in Bag End, not the way Sam was. But then, Sam helped Frodo inside more than the Gaffer ever had for Bilbo, doing the odd cooking and such.
“Why don’t you come back to the kitchen and I’ll get you something to drink.” Frodo led the way, talking over his shoulder. “I have a nice beer that was sent up from the Green Dragon, or if you prefer, I’ve got some wine mulling by the fire. It’s a cold night.”
They had reached the kitchen by this time and Frodo motioned Ham to a seat while he opened the basket and began pulling out baked goods.
“Oh, I don’t need nothin’, Mr. Baggins, but thank’ee kindly, all the same. My Bell’s got a toddy waitin’ for me when I get back.”
Not surprised at the Gaffer’s answer, Frodo slipped a small pouch of coins in the basket and handed it back to Ham. “Well, I won’t keep you then. Tell Sam there’s no need to rush tomorrow. I have a few jobs for him, but nothing that needs to be done early. Ten-thirty or so would do nicely.”
“Aye, I’ll do that, thank’ee.” Ham rose and made his way out, tugging on a forelock as he went.
Frodo shook his head fondly, once the old hobbit was out of sight. He wished that Ham could relax a little more in his presence, but he’d long ago given up on expecting that to really happen. Thankfully, Sam was another sort all together. Always proper, of course, always that, but willing to sit down over a cup of tea or a mug of beer and have a good chat once all the work was done.
The sweet smell of warm pastries drew Frodo back to the kitchen and he stood for a long moment, debating whether to eat the cinnamon rolls now, or save them for breakfast. They were best when fresh, he argued to himself, and they smelled far too good to pass up. Humming quietly to himself, he set two rolls on a plate, made himself a fresh cup of tea, and carried his snack into the study. Taking one of his favorite books down off a shelf, he settled down in front of the fire for a quiet, cozy evening.
***
“Pal, have you seen Pippin this afternoon?” Eglantine was frowning as she swept into her husband’s office. “The seamstress is here and I wanted to have her measure him for a new coat.”
Paladin looked up from the book he was poring over. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and lines creasing his forehead. Sighing, he closed the book with ink stained fingers and turned his attention to his wife.
“I saw him shortly after lunch. He’s working too hard, Tina; I gave him the afternoon off.”
“Do you know where he went?” Eglantine eyed her husband with compassion. He was working too hard himself, she thought, noticing the grey streaks in hair that had once been the color of walnuts. Ferumbras’ illness was difficult for everyone.
“He didn’t tell me, but I’m fairly sure he was heading outside. Judging by the look on his face when I spoke to him, he felt as though he was the only tween in the Shire who wasn’t having fun out in the snow.” Paladin managed a little laugh at the melodramatics of tweens.
“He might have been right, too,” Tina replied with a small laugh of her own. “Even the younger serving lads and lasses were given a chance to go outside for a little while this afternoon. Oh well, I suppose he’ll be in soon, it’s well after dark, after all.” She brushed her finger down the side of Pal’s face. “Don’t work through supper, dear. You need to eat.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Paladin replied. “I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
He lied, of course. Eglantine thought fondly. She knew that after supper, he would return here to his books and continue to work late into the night, but at least he would come to supper tonight. That was better than yesterday, when he worked right through. With one last concerned look she left, returning to the waiting seamstress and several other tasks that she still had ahead of her before supper.
***
Pippin lay on his back, stunned. The heavy tree limb had hit him in the chest, knocking him to the side and down. He’d fallen over something solid, a boulder or log, and a second branch, dislodged by the first, crashed down on his exposed legs. He was very thoroughly pinned, dazed, and in a great deal of pain. Struggling, he tried to free himself, but could get no leverage and every movement brought more pain.
Pushing aside the panic that threatened to choke him, he tried to take stock of his situation. It was late, well past sunset, and cold. Surely someone would miss him soon and set out to find him. It was only a matter of time before he was found and freed. He clung to that thought as waves of pain washed over him and consciousness faded.
Chapter three
As the stated heir to Ferumbras, Paladin, along with his family, was privileged to take his meals in the Thain’s Room, an intimate dining room traditionally used by the Thain and his personal guests when he wanted to eat in more privacy than the Great Hall provided. As a matter of practice, however, Paladin and Eglantine had established the habit of eating in the Hall most nights. Having lived so many years at Whitwell before coming back to the Smials, they had found themselves somewhat estranged from everyone. Taking their meals with everyone else gave all the residents of the Smials a chance to reconnect with the hobbit who would one day be their Thain, and his family.
So when Paladin was ready to join his family for supper, he headed to the Great Hall. He was a few minutes late, but that would not matter, as meals were generally informal, unless it was a special feast day or high holiday. The only nod to formality was the head table, which stood alone at one end of the room. The center chair at this table was reserved for use by the Thain alone, although it had been many weeks since Ferumbras had been strong enough to eat in the Great Hall, and the rest of the seats were used by top members of the family. When Paladin entered the room, he saw that Eglantine had arrived ahead of him and begun to eat. Pervinca, their youngest daughter, was sitting close to her mother. They were most likely discussing plans for Vinca’s upcoming wedding. It was a difficult thing, planning a wedding with the Thain so close to dying, and no date had been set, but there were many other details that could be worked out, and Vinca seemed to think of little else these days.
Paladin rested a hand on Eglantine’s back as he slipped into his seat to the right of the Thain’s chair; she gave him an absentminded smile in greeting. Signaling to a server, he scanned the room as he waited for his meal to arrive. He noted the presence of several hobbits with whom he wanted to speak and several more with whom he most definitely did not want to speak. It would be a dance, one that he didn’t much enjoy, but it was a part of his life now, and there was no getting around it.
“Pal, Pippin still hasn’t returned. No one’s seen him.” Eglantine’s worry was clear, and Paladin frowned
“He’s probably just gone off to the Sheaf and Shears for supper,” he reassured her. “If he hasn’t returned by the end of the meal, I’ll pop down myself and see what’s keeping him. He’s a bit young to be spending the evening there.”
“I wish you would,” Eglantine replied. “It’s been dark for well over an hour now and it’s really getting quite cold.”
Paladin tried to ignore the flash of irritation he felt towards his son. He didn’t really have the time to go jaunting off to the inn to retrieve an errant child, but Tina would worry until he was found. And truth to tell, Pal was a little concerned as well. While Pippin was certainly old enough to go off on his own for an afternoon, he was usually considerate enough to tell someone where he was going and when he expected to return. That he hadn’t said anything led Paladin to believe Pippin hadn’t intended to be out this late.
***
“Have you decided on something, then?” Estella asked as Merry approached the counter of the glass-shop once again.
“Yes, thank you, I’ll take this.” He carefully placed a glass cluster of mushrooms on the counter. The glass had been delicately tinted to show the color of the mushrooms and the grass in which they nestled, and Merry thought it an oddly charming little arrangement.
“Very nice selection. I’m sure your aunt will love it.” Estella looked as though she might be laughing at him, although the only outward sign this might be so was a slight crinkling of the eyes.
“Yes, well, I’m sure she will,” Merry replied, suddenly uncertain. What was wrong with it? Aunt Teenie loved mushrooms, nearly as much as cousin Frodo. Accepting the ornament, now wrapped in several layers of soft cloth, he paid and left the store, feeling much less confident than he had moments before.
Back at the Floating Log, he added the bundle to his pack and made his way to the common room, ready for something to eat, a mug of beer, and a pipe before bed.
***
Pippin swam stubbornly back towards consciousness. Awareness came slowly and when it arrived, he changed his mind and decided he wanted nothing to do with it. He was trembling with cold and pain, and he had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than the oblivion that had been his moments before, but a distant voice in his head warned him that he mustn’t sleep, that if he slept he might never wake again. He couldn’t remember where he’d heard that or if it was even true, but the voice was insistent and it didn’t seem like something he wanted to chance.
Opening his eyes, he took stock of his situation. There was a heavy weight across his chest and legs, and after a long moment’s thought he decided it might be related to the pine needles scratching his face. He had no idea whether it was a whole tree or just a branch, but it was heavy enough to pin him either way. He squirmed experimentally, thinking he might be able to pull himself out from under it, but an intense stabbing pain in his leg caused him to cry out and fall still. He lay for a long moment, panting and trying to get the pain under control so that he could think clearly again. Something was terribly wrong with his leg, that much was now abundantly clear.
***
Grimacing at the thought of going out into the cold, windy evening, Paladin pulled on his cloak, gave Esme a kiss and promised her that he would bring their son home. He’d had one of the ponies saddled and was grateful at least that he needn’t walk through the snow. Swinging up into the saddle, he reached down and took the lantern pole that the stable lad held for him.
It was a short ride into Tuckborough and Paladin dismounted in front of the Sheaf and Shears fifteen minutes later. Striding into the inn, he smiled and nodded, acknowledging the greetings of the hobbits gathered there but saw no sign of Pippin. Making his way to the bar, he greeted the barkeep.
“Ho, Andelmar, how goes it?”
“Not so poorly, Mr. Paladin, sir, not so poorly,” a short, fat hobbit answered him. “And what can I be gettin’ ye then?”
“I’m just looking for my son, Andy. Have you seen him tonight?”
“Nay, but I’ve only just come in less’n an hour ago. One of the lads might’ve seen ‘im before that.”
“Thanks, Andy, maybe I will have a beer. Just a half, mind.” Accepting the mug from the barkeep, he scanned the room more carefully, looking to see if any of Pippin’s particular friends were about. Spying several familiar faces, he worked his way through the crowd to their table.
“Hullo, Gordie, Taddo,” he called in greeting, pulling up a chair and joining them. “I’m surprised Pippin’s not here with you tonight.”
“Ah, he was off to the woods today, sir,” Gordie answered. “I was hopin’ to find him here meself, but I s’pose he weren’t in t’mood for a pint.”
“So you talked to him then?” Paladin prompted, taking a sip of his beer.
“Oh, aye. Tried to get him to come have a bit o’ supper with me family but he was too full of snow and woods and dreams, like, to come inside.”
“Have you seen him since?” Paladin asked, a little alarmed by this talk of woods.
“Nay. Why, is sommat amiss?” Gordie looked concerned. “I told him it weren’t a fit day to be out of doors, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Paladin smiled in spite of himself. That was his Pippin, all right. Once he’d got his head ‘round the idea of doing something, nothing short of an act of nature or a decree from on high could stop him from doing it. If Pippin had been intent on a walk in the woods, no enticements of home and hearth would have tempted him to change his mind. Still, he should have been back by now.
“How long ago was this, Gordie? He’s not been back home yet, and his mum’s getting a bit worried.” He tried to downplay the anxiety he was beginning to feel himself.
“Maybe three hours ago?” Gordie seemed unsure of the time.
“Right, I’d best go see if I can find him, then.” Paladin drained his beer and stood up. “Thank you for your help, lad. Have a round on me.” He tossed a few coins on the table and began to work his way to the door.
“Wait, sir,” Gordie called after him. “I’ll come with you. I shouldn’t never’ve let him go off alone, and you shouldn’t go alone neither.”
Paladin had almost reached the door but halted, considering Gordie’s words. “You’re right, and it’s no good haring off without a word to anyone what we’re doing, either. Ho, Tom Greenbanks,” he clapped a sturdy looking hobbit sitting at a nearby table on the shoulder. “I’m in need of a favor. Run up to the Smials and deliver a message to my wife for me, will you? Tell her I’ve taken a few likely lads into the woods to round up Pippin. If we’re not home in an hour or so, I’ll send further word, but I don’t imagine he’s too far off.”
Tom nodded and stood, grabbing his cloak. “That’s me off, then,” he said in farewell to his friends, and left the inn, heading up the hill to Smials.
“Gordie, see if you can round up a few more of Pippin’s friends to help.” Paladin continued. “He’s probably just wool-gathering and I don’t want the whole Shire called out to find him, but the woods are big; it’ll be easier if there’re more of us. I’m going to get a few things and I’ll meet you out by the stables.”
Chapter four
It was dark and cold, and seemed to be getting colder with every painful breath Pippin took. The darkness was lifting slightly, but he couldn’t tell if his eyes were adjusting to the lack of light or if the clouds were blowing away, leaving the stars free to shine. While the thought of more snow was rather frightening at this point, a clearing sky meant that the temperature was more likely to drop over night. He didn’t know how cold it might get before dawn and didn’t particularly want to find out.
His entire body was trembling from cold and pain, and each convulsive movement of the muscles in his leg sent more pain shooting through him. After the first shock of his situation had worn off, he had done his best to determine the extent of his injuries. He already knew that something was badly wrong with his right leg and didn’t even try to move it. Moving very cautiously, he had been able to wiggle the toes of his left foot, and then gingerly flex the ankle. He didn’t have enough freedom of movement to bend his knee, but flexing the leg muscles hadn’t set off any alarms, so he’d concluded that it was probably relatively uninjured. He’d rested then, not wanting to do any further damage to himself. Now he was just waiting, repeating over and over to himself that someone would find him at any moment.
***
Paladin paced back and forth in front of the inn’s stable, waiting for Gordie to return with help. With each passing moment, his anxiety was building. He was quickly becoming convinced that something was very wrong, although nothing in the outward situation had changed. Pippin was only a few hours overdue, but those few hours could be significant.
“Here we are, then, sir,” Gordie announced, trotting up with half a dozen sturdy young hobbits.
“Ta for helping, lads,” Paladin said gratefully to the gathered crew. “I suppose I’m just an overanxious father, but Pippin’s quite late checking in and no one’s seen him since this afternoon.”
“T’is no bother, Mr. Paladin,” Gordie reassured him. “But we’d best get started if we want to get finished, if you take my meaning.”
Paladin nodded. “Right, then. We’ll head out in pairs; stick together and return here in an hour if you haven’t seen any sign of him.” After giving a few more brief instructions and handing out supplies, he sent them on their way, keeping Gordie with him. Splitting into pairs, each group grabbed a lantern and headed out. Paladin swung a pack to his back, picked up his own lantern, and set out towards the woods to the east of town.
“You’re really worried, aren’t you, sir?” Gordie asked as he trotted to keep up with Paladin.
Paladin didn’t respond immediately, walking at the best pace he could manage along the snow covered wood-cutters’ path that led to the woods. “I am,” he finally answered. “I don’t for the life of me know why, but something feels wrong. It’s like an ache in my chest, Gordie. My lad needs me.” He spared Gordie a half-apologetic smile, expecting to see amusement or mockery on the lad’s face.
“I understand,” Gordie replied quietly. “My da had a bit of the sight, you know. Not much, but sometimes he just knew things.”
Paladin eyed the lad thoughtfully. He’d never put much stock in the notion of this ‘sight’ that some spoke of, but he had to admit that on the rare occasions when a gut feeling took him this strongly, it was usually true. Such thoughts gave him small comfort right now, when he wanted nothing more than for his anxiety to be misplaced and he tried to dispel his growing concern.
A few minutes later the track they were following entered the eaves of the woods. Holding up his lantern, Paladin scanned the ground for any traces of footprints in the snow, but could see nothing definite. Exchanging a glance with Gordie, he took a deep breath and entered the sheltering overhang of branches.
As they moved further into the woods, the layer of snow on the ground lessened, interweaving overhead branches having caught much of it. Finally, they found what they were looking for. In the light of their lanterns, they could clearly see a bootprint that was only partially filled in with fluffy snow. Looking ahead, they saw several more, with the trail leading deeper into the woods. They followed this trail without speaking, until they had gone nearly a mile.
“I don’t see any more tracks, sir,” Gordie muttered, lifting his lantern high to peer around.
“Here,” Paladin said, moving over to the side. “There’s a small path here; it looks recently disturbed.” He indicated the small branches that were denuded of snow, and a freshly broken twig. “I suppose he went off this way.” Not best pleased, Paladin followed the trail, angling away from the main path and heading deeper into the woods.
***
Trying to keep himself awake, Pippin began trying to extricate his arms from under the tangled branches lying across his body. He quickly found that his right arm was thoroughly pinned, but there was at least a little wriggle room on his left side. Moving very carefully, he worked first his fingers and then his whole hand, but was soon forced to give up the attempt; his elbow was trapped close to his side and he couldn’t move his arm more than an inch or two.
“Well, this is a fix and no mistake,” he muttered, shivering. He twisted his head to one side and then the other, trying to ease the discomfort of lying in cold snow for an extended period of time, to little avail. The only thing that would help, he thought rather gloomily, would be to get up off the snow, and that wasn’t really an option right now.
He drifted for a while after that, mind shutting down in self defense against his misery, and when he came back to himself he was unsure how much time had passed. He was equally unsure at first what had brought him back to full, shivering awareness. Maybe he’d heard something; he lay perfectly still, tense and straining. There, he heard it again. It was a vibration felt through the ground more than an actual sound, footsteps on frozen earth and he felt a sudden surge of hope, maybe help was on the way. His hopes were dashed when a deer came bounding out of the woods and leaped over him, continuing on without pause. The disappointment cut deep and he fought to hold back a choked cry of despair. It was several minutes before he realized he could still feel/hear the vibrations of footsteps moving in his direction. And then he heard something he had almost despaired of, the distant sound of a soft hobbit voice.
***
Pippin’s tracks were more distinct on this smaller path. They were able to follow the marks easily and made better time, moving over the frozen ground as quickly as the snow permitted. A sudden rustle in the branches was the first indication they were not alone, and Paladin and Gordie both jumped when the deer burst out of the woods and ran ahead of them up the path.
“Oh my stars,” Gordie gasped. “I thought it was a bear!”
“There aren’t any bears in these woods, Gordie,” Paladin answered softly. “Most of the beasts hereabouts are much smaller than that. You should know that.” He looked at the younger hobbit curiously.
Gordie flushed under his elder’s eye. “Sorry, sir. But there are unsettling tales going around and you never know what might be lurking, even in your own back yard, so to speak.”
“Ah, lad,” Paladin answered, resting his hand reassuringly on Gordie’s shoulder. “Pay no mind to the rumors. Someone is always spreading such tales in order to make himself look bigger and braver. These woods are --” he broke off suddenly, holding up a hand for silence.
He thought he’d heard…yes, there it was again. A very faint cry, coming from farther up the trail. Leaving Gordie to follow as he would, he took off at a run, calling out. “Pippin! Pippin, are you out here, son?”
An answer came back, more distinct this time. “Da? Da, I’m here.” Pippin’s call was weak but close at hand and it was only a moment more before Paladin was kneeling in the snow, cradling Pippin’s head in his lap.
“Oh, lad,” he murmured, “I was that worried about you.”
“Da,” Pippin whispered. “My…leg. Think I’m…bleeding.” Sighing, he closed his eyes and went limp in Paladin’s arms.
“Pippin? Pippin!” Paladin cried. “Wake up, son. Come on, now, wake up.”
Pippin moaned slightly but did not stir and Paladin looked up at Gordie. “You’ll have to run, lad. Go back to the inn and get help. We’ll need blankets and bandages, rope, and more hands. And send word to the Smials as well, to have a healer waiting when we get there. Quick now, go!”
Gordie looked from Pippin, lying still and pale in his father’s arms, to Paladin, face drawn with fright, and turned to follow his instructions. Running as quickly as he could without injuring himself in the process, he fled back to the inn and help.
***
Pippin drifted back towards consciousness, with his father’s scent in his nostrils and the sound of his father’s voice in his ears.
“Come on, now, son, talk to me.” Paladin’s voice was commanding, and Pippin did his best to obey, mumbling something that even he couldn’t really understand.
“There’s a lad. Open your eyes for me now, Pippin.”
Sighing, Pippin complied, heaving heavy lids up and blinking rather blearily at his father. Paladin’s face was pinched with worry and cold, and Pippin was struck with the realization that it was his fault.
“S..sor..sorry, Da,” he whispered, teeth chattering with cold.
“Hush,” Paladin answered, smiling in relief. “Don’t worry about it now. I’ve sent Gordie for help, but I need to know how badly you’re hurt.”
“S..something’s w..wrong wi..with my r..r..right l..leg.” His ribs were sore as well, but it was too hard to get the words out past the shivering and he didn’t really think they were broken anyway, just bruised and painful.
Paladin gently lowered his head back to the ground and Pippin would have protested, but he was once again having trouble staying awake. He allowed his eyes to close as his father moved around him, testing the branch to see if he could move it on his own. Pippin’s last thought as he drifted off again was that he was safe now. His da was here.
Chapter five
Paladin shrugged off his cloak, ignoring the icy wind that easily penetrated the coat he wore underneath. Lifting his son as gently as he could, he spread the cloak on the ground under Pippin’s head and shoulders, trying to separate him from the cold snow as much as possible while still keeping his body flat on the ground. Pippin’s eyes fluttered and his breathing hitched, but he didn’t wake.
“Don’t worry, lad, help is on the way,” Paladin muttered, more to reassure himself than in any expectation that the quiet figure lying next to him could hear his words. Unable to sit still, Pal set himself to the task of building a fire. By the time he’d cleared a small area of snow, gathered enough dry twigs and branches and got a little fire started, Pippin was stirring restlessly.
“Easy, Pippin, don’t try to move,” Paladin cautioned as he sank down by Pippin’s head.
“Da?”
“Aye, and who else do you think would be sitting around in the cold waiting for you to wake your lazy self up?”
“’m not lazy,” Pippin protested muzzily. “I’d be more than happy to get up if you’d get this tree off me.”
“Well, now, that’s going to have to wait just a little longer, son,” Paladin answered. “Help is on the way, though, so you just hold on and we’ll have you free in no time.”
“Now who’s being lazy?” Pippin asked with a hint of a strained smile. “I’m thirsty. Is there any water?” he asked a moment later.
Paladin looked him over carefully. Pippin wasn’t showing any visible signs of shock, but he wasn’t ready to rule it out. “I’m sorry, son. Once we get you home and have the healer look you over, you’ll be able to have something to drink.”
Pippin made no protest but closed his eyes, frowning slightly. It was quiet then, save for the crackle of the fire. Paladin did his best to wait patiently, but with each minute that passed, his worry grew. If Pippin was bleeding, the wound needed to be staunched and bandaged sooner rather than later, but there was nothing he could do on his own. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that attempting to shift the branches by himself was anything other than plain stupid, but the longer he waited, the more tempted he became to do something, anything, no matter how stupid it was.
He was very relieved when, after what seemed like several hours and was probably less than one, he heard the sounds of several hobbits approaching. Gordie had returned. Before he could say anything, someone had wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and pushed a flask of something hot into his hands.
“Drink up, Mr. Paladin, sir. We’ll take things from here.”
Finding himself on the sidelines, Paladin watched helplessly as hobbits swarmed about the downed branches, tying ropes here and there, carefully testing each branch to see how much give there was in the tangle, cutting carefully into the branches only when it was deemed unlikely to further injure the trapped hobbit.
***
Pippin woke to pain and confusion. Something shifted above him, causing something else to poke him in the chest. Unable to restrain a quiet moan, he opened his eyes to see shadowy figures moving around him. He could hear them speak, but the words were elusive, seeming to slip away from him like a bar of wet soap in the bath. What he was able to understand was that rescue was at hand.
It took time to get the tangle of branches off him without doing further damage, and the procedure was painful in spite of all the care taken, but eventually the terrible weight was gone and Pippin lay shivering in the cold night air. His da reappeared at his side as soon as the last branches had been removed; he knelt in the snow and smoothed the wet hair off Pippin’s forehead, distracting him while someone did something incredibly painful to his leg that made him cry out despite his best efforts not to. When it was done he felt weak and wrung out, too shaky to hold on to any thought for more than a second or two. Then hands were lifting him and he found himself on a litter, being carried through the woods. Everything was swimming around him now, sight, sound and thoughts swirling together uneasily and he closed his eyes against it all, sinking gratefully into the deep, black absence of unconsciousness.
***
It took longer than Paladin would have preferred to get Pippin out of the woods. It was awkward enough to slog through the snow without the added burden of a litter, but the hobbits took turns carrying it and they reached the edge of the woods in due course. There, Paladin was relieved to find a pony and wagon waiting for them. Carefully transferring Pippin to the wagon bed, they were able to make much better time the rest of the way to the Great Smials.
Paladin looked down at the pale face nestled amongst the blankets on the wagon bed, proud of his son. Pippin had only cried out once, when pressure was applied to the nasty gash on his thigh to stop the bleeding. The leg was almost certainly broken as well as badly cut and the pain must have been excruciating. He lay quietly enough now, however, and Paladin hoped that was a good sign.
“Did you send word to the Smials?” Paladin asked Gordie, who was sitting on the buckboard.
“Aye, and told them to have the healer ready when we got there.” Gordie was quiet a moment before asking, “Is he…will he be…how badly is he injured, sir?”
Paladin looked up into the pale, earnest face of his son’s friend, remembering suddenly how young Gordie was, only two years older than Pippin. The lad had shown excellent presence of mind during this whole thing and should be rewarded in some way. Paladin made a mental note of that, then allowed it to slide to the back of his mind; not forgotten, just put away until a more appropriate time to think on it.
“He’ll be fine, Gordie. That leg needs tending to, certainly, and he needs warming up, but I have no doubt he’ll be fine soon enough.” Gordie looked reassured. Paladin wished he could be reassured as easily, himself. They wouldn’t know how badly Pippin’s leg was injured until the healer looked at it, but Paladin worried over it anyway. The wound looked bad. It had begun bleeding heavily as soon as the branch stabbing him had been removed, and it had taken some time to staunch it. Losing that much blood was never good for anyone. Taking a deep breath, Paladin forced himself to relax. Pippin would be fine and Paladin would keep telling himself that over and over until it was true.
They were met at the main entrance to the Smials by Eglantine and Adagar Brockhouse, the healer. Paladin saw Tina bite her lip to contain a cry as she saw Pippin, but she immediately drew herself up, not allowing any weakness to show in public. Doing the same himself, he moved out of the way as Adagar climbed into the back of the wagon to examine Pippin.
“Hm, yes, we’ll wait until he’s in bed to take that bandage off and have a look at the wound. Any other injuries? Fever? No, well let’s get him inside then, no sense letting him freeze to death out here.” With that, the hobbit hopped back down to the ground and motioned to the others to bring the litter. “Carefully,” he cautioned, needlessly. “I’m sure Peregrin would thank you not to drop him along the way.”
Adagar Brockhouse, commonly known as Dag, was one of the oddest hobbits Paladin had ever met and he wasn’t even a Took, had no Took blood in him at all, as a matter of fact. He was, however, an exceptional healer despite his fairly young age, not yet fifty. As long as Dag was chattering away like a mad squirrel, all was well. It was only when he grew silent and focused that danger loomed on the horizon. Right now, Dag was mumbling and muttering, half to himself and half to the hobbits carrying the litter, and Paladin was able to breathe a little easier for the first time since he had found Pippin in the woods.
Joining Eglantine just inside the door, he sent her a warm look and squeezed her hand.
“Is it…bad?” she asked quietly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
“It could have been,” Pal answered, “if you hadn’t sent me out after him.” He glossed over the injuries, knowing they would both get more details than they really wanted once Dag had finished looking the lad over, and not wanting Tina to worry any more than she already was.
There was a fire blazing on the hearth in Pippin’s room, and blankets had been set in front of it to warm. Once Pippin, still unconscious, had been transferred to his own bed and the hobbits carrying the litter had left, Dag set to work, laying out his supplies and then unwrapping the bandage from Pippin’s thigh. He washed the wound thoroughly, making sure there were no splinters of wood from the branches before rebandaging it. “That will need stitches,” he muttered, “but we’ll wait until the bone has been set, yes?” Moving aside the basin of bloody water, he turned to Paladin. “I’ll need your help for this.”
Paladin and Tina had been standing by the hearth, out of the way, but at Dag’s summons, Paladin moved to his son’s bedside. “What do you want me to do?”
“Hold him down. This is going to be painful and he’ll probably wake up in the middle of it,” the healer explained. “I have to set the bone and then immobilize his leg. Once that’s done, I’ll be able to stitch up the gash.”
Following the healer’s instructions, Paladin held Pippin’s upper body against the mattress, tensely waiting for Dag’s next move. When it came, the sudden violence of it took him by surprise, despite his readiness. Dag pulled and twisted swiftly and forcefully, and Pippin’s eyes flew open, body flailing against the pain, a cry catching on his lips. Paladin held him still and a moment later Pippin went limp again, sweat beading his brow and Paladin’s.
Dag moved quickly from there, stitching and bandaging the gash and then splinting the leg so Pippin wouldn’t be able to inadvertently move it. Only when that was all done did he gently wake the injured lad.
“Pippin, come on now, lad. Wake up.”
Pippin’s eyes fluttered and he frowned. “…wish people would stop saying that,” he mumbled roughly.
“Well, you just need to stay awake, then.”
Pippin opened his eyes fully and looked around, catching sight of his parents. “Mum,” he whispered.
“That’s right, lad,” Dag said jovially. “You’re home now. Just rest easy here for a few minutes while I fix you something to drink.” Dag moved away from the bed, motioning Paladin and Tina to keep the patient company.
“Hello, darling,” Tina said, carefully settling herself on the edge of Pippin’s bed and resting a soothing hand on his brow. “You gave us a bit of a scare, you know, disappearing like that.”
“Sorry, Mum,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to.” Pippin looked exhausted, lines of pain showing where his skin had always been smooth before.
“We know that, lad,” Paladin assured him. “But I think we might have to come up with a new set of rules for wandering around in the woods alone.” He said this gently, to let Pippin know he wasn’t in any trouble, but he meant it. It was dangerous to be out there alone, too many grim scenarios sprang to Paladin’s mind, and he wasn’t going to allow any of them to happen to his child.
Dag returned then and lifted Pippin’s head, while Eglantine placed several pillows to comfortably prop the lad up.
“I want you to drink all of this, Pippin,” Dag said, handing a mug of something that looked rather murky to Pippin. “It will ease the pain and help you sleep. And once it’s gone, you can have some water if you’re still thirsty.”
Pippin accepted the mug with a grimace. He drained it in three swift gulps, and then gratefully drank a glass of water to get the foul taste out of his mouth. Settling back on his pillows, he looked very young and vulnerable, and Eglantine stroked his forehead, whispering soothing words to him as his eyes closed and he slipped back into sleep. Only when she was sure he was resting comfortably did she move from his side.
“How is he really, Dag?” she asked anxiously.
“That leg is a mess, quite frankly, and it’s going to need a lot of looking after to heal properly. Good thing I’m here.” The healer grinned briefly before continuing. “He’s lost some blood but not as much as he might have, so that’s a point in his favor. He’s still a bit shivery from being out in the cold so long, but I’m hoping he’ll warm up nicely now that he’s inside, in a cozy bed. And in that cozy bed he’ll be staying for a good long while, I might add. Once he’s feeling better, that is going to be a bone of contention between you and he, I can practically guarantee it, so you might want to start thinking now about ways to entertain him.”
Dag put a small bag of herbs in Tina’s hands. “Make him a tea with this, every four hours for now; it will ease the pain and help him sleep, but it will also help the wound to heal cleanly.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Eglantine, he’s a strong, healthy lad, and he’ll heal fine. He’s just going to need us to help him with that for a little while.”
Packing up his bag, he reassured Pippin’s parents that they could call on him at any time if they had any concerns whatsoever, and that he would return first thing in the morning, regardless, to check in on his patient. And then, with a cheerful farewell, he took his leave.
Will Pippin ever walk again? Will Merry hook up with that Estella chick again, or was it just two ships passing in the night? Please to be continuing to the next post for the final chapters of this thrilling saga.
I wrote the first chapter of this way back in January of 2006 and worked on it off and on for awhile, posting bits as I went. This was bad of me. And then it seemed like it might never get finished, which was even worse of me. But really, it's only been sixteen months since I last updated. And I have the excuse of grad school distracting me from working on it for twelve of those months.
Yeah, okay. I'm lame, and I'm never posting a WIP again, that much I promise. Anyway, I'm reposting it here, in it's entirety, for those of you who desire a refresher, or never read it in the first place (very wise of you). However, if you just want to read the final section, feel free to skip to the second cut tag on the next post (lj post length limits suck, man).
Pertinent info with the blah-di-blah, here:
Title: Luster of Snow
Rating: PG
Fandom: LotR
Characters/Pairings: Hobbits, none (well, hints of Merry and Estella, pre-relationship)
Word count: 18616
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the laptop on which I'm posting this, and I'm making no profit from it.
The Luster of Snow
Chapter One
The snow had taken on a pearly luster in the pale light of early afternoon. An event as rare as half a foot of snow falling in the Shire had been met with excited squeals from young lads and lasses who’d never seen so much snow in their short lives. Even older hobbits, well aware of the difficulties this sort of snowfall would cause, could not hold back an admission of the beauty it presented.
At Great Smials, all the younglings had been released from lessons and duties for the afternoon, so that they could romp and play to their heart’s content. Pippin, who also wished to head out for a good romp, was still inside. Thain Ferumbras was ill, dying really. He’d been ill for nearly two years now, and the end was very near. Pippin’s father, Paladin, had gradually taken on more and more of the Thain’s duties, until by now he was doing nearly everything but signing the papers. Pippin, too, had found his duties increasing. As his father’s only son, he would someday become Thain himself. In the meantime he had assumed a position that was half assistant, half apprentice to his father. Not yet twenty-five, he found it sometimes (well, almost always, to be honest) rather trying to be kept indoors, cooped up with books and duties all day.
Today was one of those days. Paladin was meeting with Thain Ferumbras’ healers and Pippin was in his study, sorting through old records, trying to find documentation to back up a decision his father had recently made, which was being questioned by certain unmentionable elders who were determined to make the transition of power as difficult as possible.
It was hard to concentrate, though, with all the noise coming in through the windows. Sighing, Pippin stood to close the shutters but paused, his attention caught by the sight of the children running and playing in the snow.
“Pippin?”
The sound of his father’s voice brought Pippin out of his reverie. Judging by the change in the light outside, a good half hour had passed while he stood mesmerized by the window. Feeling his cheeks warm, he returned to his desk. “I’m sorry, Da. I’ll get right back to work.” Sitting down with a bump, he bowed his head over the scattered papers, determined not to get distracted again.
There was a long moment of silence and Pippin was beginning to think his father had left the room, when Paladin gave a soft cough right behind his shoulder.
“Go on, son. You’ve worked at this long enough for one day.” There was a weariness in his father’s voice that made Pippin want to cringe, although he held still.
“I’m not done, yet, Da,” he protested, against his own desire for freedom as much as his father’s offer. “Here, look at this,” he pulled over a thick ledger covered in cracked leather. Opening it to a marked page near the back, he pointed. “In 1242, Fortinbras the First encountered a similar difficulty when some of the oldest tunnels in the Smials began to show signs of instability.”
He would have continued but Paladin cut him off. Shaking his head, the older hobbit smiled as he clapped his son on the shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job, Pippin, but it’s time to take a break. You need some fresh air; you’re looking a bit peaked and your mother would never forgive me if you fell ill from too much studying.”
Pippin continued to argue, reaching for another heavy tome, until his father clapped hands on either side of his shoulders. “Go on, off with you, now. The books will still be here when you get back.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Pippin hesitated a final moment, then bolted for the door, throwing a thank you over his shoulder. Without pausing for thought, he ran along the corridor between his family’s private suite and the kitchens, skidding to a slightly breathless stop just in time to prevent himself from sending a middle-aged laundress crashing to the floor with a basket of clean linens.
“Here now, young master,” the matron scolded as she attempted to regain her composure, “you oughtn’t be runnin’ through the halls like some wild thing. Not at your age!”
“I’m sorry, Amaryllis,” Pippin gasped, taking the basket from her hands. “Here, let me help you with this.”
“Impertinence!” Amaryllis snapped, retrieving the basket from Pippin’s hands. “You just go on about your business, Master Pippin, and leave the laundry to me.” Despite her harsh tone, she was unable to hold back a smile. Pippin could charm the skin off a snake, and he knew it.
“Yes ma’am,” he answered with a grin, and took off once again, at a pace that was only slightly slower. Around the corner and through the kitchen he went, stopping briefly to grab a loaf and some dried fruit before picking up speed again as he veered through the back hallway, until he came to an intersection. Turning right, he headed back into the Smials, tracing a labyrinthine path to his room.
Once safely there, he grabbed a small, worn knapsack from the back of his wardrobe and set it on his bed. Into this bag he threw a small pouch of coins, a water bottle, and the food he’d liberated from the kitchen. Pulling the top closed, he rummaged through his clothes press until he found a pair of thick woolen stockings, way down at the bottom. Turning to the wardrobe next, he found the old pair of boots he’d last worn three years ago. He looked at them with a jaundiced eye, but it was too cold to go walking through the snow without some sort of foot-covering; sighing, he pulled the stockings on and stamped his feet into the boots, grimacing in distaste at the binding sensation. Lastly, he shrugged into his warmest coat and pulled his cloak on over it. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he left his room and headed for the private door his family generally used for their comings and goings.
Once outside, he inhaled deeply of the cold, crisp air and shrugged aside all of the concerns he’d been carrying around for the past several months. They would be waiting for him upon his return, he knew, but for the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. For this one afternoon, he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted, and what he wanted right now was to go for a long ramble in the woods east of Tuckborough. It was a lengthy walk and the sun had passed the zenith some time since, but he’d been cooped inside far too long, fettered with familial responsibilities and sadness. He’d come to know Cousin Ferumbras well in the past few years and it hurt him to see the older hobbit lingering in such pain. Now that Pippin was outside, however, he was going to make the most of it.
Whistling cheerfully, he set out down the hill to the road leading into Tuckborough. Although he found the boots cumbersome and annoying, they did not slow him down significantly and he made good time, reaching the thriving town just as hunger began to hit.
“Well, look who it is, Master Peregrin Took himself!”
“Hullo, Gordie,” Pippin said, clasping his friend’s hand. “I’m surprised to see you out on such a cold day.”
“You’re a fine one to speak,” Gordie retorted, conspicuously eyeing Pippin’s boots. His own feet were bare and looking rather cold.
“I’ve the whole afternoon free,” Pippin said, unable to contain the burbling excitement in his voice. “I’m off to the woods, if you’d like to join me.”
“You’re daft,” the other hobbit laughed. “I’m freezing. Hobbits weren’t made for the snow. I’m just running to the market for me mam and then it’s straight home.” Gordie suddenly grinned. “You should come home with me. Mam’ll have a nice pot o’ stew ready for supper and she never minds havin’ an extra mouth to feed.”
“Thanks, Gordie,” Pippin answered, “but I want to be outside today. I’ve been cooped up in that dark, stuffy little study for weeks now and I just want to feel the wind and snow on my face.”
“Well, be seein’ you, then.” With a wave, Gordie trudged off, pulling his snow-covered cloak tight about him. Pippin smiled at his friend’s back for a moment before moving along, himself. He’d thought briefly about stopping in at the Sheaf and Shears for a bite and a sip, but thought he’d better wait until after his walk. It would be dark all too soon and he didn’t want to waste a single precious moment. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a handful of dried fruit and munched on that as he walked along.
He soon left the town behind and was deep under the trees, lost in a reverie. There was a certain stillness to the late afternoon; a hush that was full of the soft sounds of wind ruffling through the pine boughs, the susurrus of snow hitting snow, the creak of limbs bending under the weight of that snow. It felt to Pippin as though the entire world had paused with him for a moment. Walking idly through the woods, his worries and fears quieted and all that was left was a gentle peace.
Chapter two
Pippin wandered aimlessly through the woods for well over an hour, breathing deeply of the fresh air and relishing the quiet. Only when the light of the setting sun glanced through the trees did he begin to think about retracing his steps. Looking around to get his bearings, he frowned. He’d gone farther into the woods than he’d realized; it was going to be a long walk back to Tuckborough.
“No matter,” he told himself, speaking aloud, his voice echoing through the stillness of the snowy woods and startling a hare; the creature bounded off in a flurry of disturbed snow, bringing a smile to Pippin’s face. Taking his cue from the departed hare, he adjusted his pack and set off in the direction of home.
The snow was not as deep under the trees, a fact Pippin appreciated more and more as he walked. Unaccustomed to wearing boots, he found them cumbersome and uncomfortable. They were heavy, slowing him down, and the back of his left heel was starting to burn painfully with every step. At least it wasn’t still snowing, he reflected. Or at least, no new snow was reaching him under the trees, aside from the occasional clump that fell from an overloaded branch.
It wasn’t until the last light from the setting sun disappeared that Pippin realized he’d failed to bring a lantern along. “Well, that was just daft,” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t sure exactly when his lovely, idyllic afternoon had turned sour, but it was definitely feeling less lovely by the minute now. It grew quite dark very quickly, with clouds covering what little bit of the sky showed through the trees. There was a faint illumination from the snow, but only just enough to let Pippin pick a path around shadowy trees and indistinct lumps that might be drifts of snow or fallen limbs and no way to tell the difference until he banged a toe against something solid. To make matters worse, the temperature was dropping and a bitter wind had risen with the setting of the sun.
Wrapping his cloak tightly about him and pulling his hood close to his face, Pippin slogged on, muttering to himself about the stupidity of a hobbit who couldn’t even remember to bring a lantern when going for a ramble in the woods late in the afternoon in the winter. Luckily, he knew these woods well and even the unfamiliarity of dark and snow was not enough to turn him around. He knew where he was and it wouldn’t take more than half an hour or so to make his way to the edge of the trees, he reasoned, and from there it was a short walk to Tuckborough. To distract himself from the cold while he walked, Pippin allowed himself to daydream about arriving at the Sheaf and Shears, where a pert young serving lass would bring him a piping hot bowl of lamb stew, or maybe some lovely fried potatoes with sausage. Yes, that sounded like just the thing.
Walking briskly and thinking about a hot meal and a pretty lass soon had Pippin feeling much better and he began to enjoy his walk again. He was humming a popular walking song under his breath when an ominously loud crack caught his attention. He paused for a moment as he tried to locate the source of the sound, which echoed through the woods confusingly, but saw nothing that looked out of the ordinary. He took another step forward just as there was another sharp crack, this time clearly coming from above. He looked up in time to see a thick pine branch, overly laden with heavy snow, break away from a tree directly to his right. He had just enough time to register his danger but not enough time to get clear before the limb struck him.
***
The common room of the Floating Log, Frogmorton’s only inn, was crowded with hobbits come to complain about the snow, drink a pint with their pals or just escape the cold for a bit. Merry sat at one end of a long common table, nursing a half and finishing up his supper. He was bored, having been cooped up in Frogmorton all day with very little to do. He’d stopped here last night on his way to Bag End for a visit and the overnight snow had stranded him. If only he hadn’t insisted on walking, he lamented again. Sometimes Frodo was just a bad influence, and Merry vowed to tell him that as soon as he reached Bag End. If he ever reached Bag End.
“Ah, Mr. Merry,” the innkeeper came over to his side. “I’ve some good news for you. The post rider just made it through, and he said the roads are in pretty good shape between here and Hobbiton. Provided we don’t get any fresh snow overnight, you should be able to go on tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Ham,” Merry said with a grin. “In that case I’ll wish for clear skies tonight.” Downing the last of his ale, he stood. It was early yet, and there were hours to pass before bed. Merry decided to take a stroll around the town before retiring to his room. Bidding the landlord good afternoon, he pulled on his cloak and headed out.
It was cold and dark outside, with a thin veil of clouds covering most of the sky. Looking up, Merry saw a few bright, intrepid stars peeking through the veil, but most would stay hidden tonight. Sighing, Merry just hoped the clouds would hold off dumping any more snow on the Shire until after he’d finished his journey.
Frogmorton was a thriving town, straddling the East Road, with several smaller lanes and byways branching off on each side. Merry spent an hour diverting himself by wandering up and down the lanes. Most of the shops were closed at this hour, but he found a glassblower’s shop that was still open. A little bell above the door tinkled when he walked in, and a young lass came out of a back room to greet him.
“Hello, sir. May I help you with anything?” She was a bonny lass, Merry decided, with rosy cheeks, light brown hair pulled back in a braid and covered with a kerchief, and a pleasingly plump figure. Taking a second glance, he thought she looked familiar.
“Estella Bolger?” he asked, uncertain.
“Aye,” she paused in her own turn, scrutinizing him. “Ah, Meriadoc Brandybuck. I thought you looked familiar when you came in.” She blushed, only slightly, as she said his name.
“And has your family taken up glassblowing, then?” Merry asked, thinking it odd that Fatty hadn’t mentioned such.
“This is my uncle’s shop,” she answered pertly. “Mum’s brother Boldin. His wife is feeling poorly right now, so I’m helping out with the store until she’s better.”
“I see,” Merry murmured. He felt oddly unprepared for this encounter and couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. The last time he’d seen Estella, she had been a skinny little teen with dirty feet and a sunburnt face. Now, well, now didn’t bear too much thinking about with her standing right there waiting to find out how she could help him.
“I…ah…I’m looking for a…gift…for my Aunt,” he said, thankful for the inspiration. He had, after all, planned to stop at the Smials at some point during this visit with Frodo, and it would be a nice gesture to take Aunt Teenie something.
“Well, feel free to look around, and if there’s anything I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask.” Estella smiled and a dimple appeared on her cheek.
Merry smiled back, feeling suddenly much less disgruntled about being stuck in Frogmorton. With new purpose, he began to wander through the shop, looking for just the right thing for his aunt and thinking about the unexpectedly fetching Estella Bolger.
***
Frodo wasn’t at all surprised when Merry didn’t make it to Bag End that day. Poor Sam had barely been able to make it down to Hobbiton that morning to get some much needed supplies for the Widow Rumble. It took time for all the roads and lanes to get shoveled out, and Frodo knew that Merry had planned to walk. What that lad was thinking, walking all the way from Buckland in the middle of winter, Frodo didn’t know, but Merry had insisted it would be fine, and he was old enough to make his own decisions.
A knock at the door brought Frodo out of his introspection. It was Gaffer Gamgee, looking unhappy at having disturbed the Master.
“Good evening, Hamfast,” Frodo greeted him warmly. “Is there something I can do for you?” It was unusual for the Gaffer to come up to Bag End so late and Frodo hoped nothing was amiss.
“Nay, t’is nothin’ like that,” the Gaffer replied. “T’is just that my Bell did the bakin’ today. I would’a sent it up with Sam, but t’poor lad’s done in, with all the snow-clearin’ he done today, and I couldn’t send the lasses out in this weather.”
Frodo accepted the basket handed over to him by the Gaffer. “Please come in for a moment while I put this away.”
Ham stepped through the door, scraping his feet on the sill first, and then stood awkwardly in the hallway. For all the years he’d served first Bilbo and now Frodo, he’d never become comfortable at being in Bag End, not the way Sam was. But then, Sam helped Frodo inside more than the Gaffer ever had for Bilbo, doing the odd cooking and such.
“Why don’t you come back to the kitchen and I’ll get you something to drink.” Frodo led the way, talking over his shoulder. “I have a nice beer that was sent up from the Green Dragon, or if you prefer, I’ve got some wine mulling by the fire. It’s a cold night.”
They had reached the kitchen by this time and Frodo motioned Ham to a seat while he opened the basket and began pulling out baked goods.
“Oh, I don’t need nothin’, Mr. Baggins, but thank’ee kindly, all the same. My Bell’s got a toddy waitin’ for me when I get back.”
Not surprised at the Gaffer’s answer, Frodo slipped a small pouch of coins in the basket and handed it back to Ham. “Well, I won’t keep you then. Tell Sam there’s no need to rush tomorrow. I have a few jobs for him, but nothing that needs to be done early. Ten-thirty or so would do nicely.”
“Aye, I’ll do that, thank’ee.” Ham rose and made his way out, tugging on a forelock as he went.
Frodo shook his head fondly, once the old hobbit was out of sight. He wished that Ham could relax a little more in his presence, but he’d long ago given up on expecting that to really happen. Thankfully, Sam was another sort all together. Always proper, of course, always that, but willing to sit down over a cup of tea or a mug of beer and have a good chat once all the work was done.
The sweet smell of warm pastries drew Frodo back to the kitchen and he stood for a long moment, debating whether to eat the cinnamon rolls now, or save them for breakfast. They were best when fresh, he argued to himself, and they smelled far too good to pass up. Humming quietly to himself, he set two rolls on a plate, made himself a fresh cup of tea, and carried his snack into the study. Taking one of his favorite books down off a shelf, he settled down in front of the fire for a quiet, cozy evening.
***
“Pal, have you seen Pippin this afternoon?” Eglantine was frowning as she swept into her husband’s office. “The seamstress is here and I wanted to have her measure him for a new coat.”
Paladin looked up from the book he was poring over. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and lines creasing his forehead. Sighing, he closed the book with ink stained fingers and turned his attention to his wife.
“I saw him shortly after lunch. He’s working too hard, Tina; I gave him the afternoon off.”
“Do you know where he went?” Eglantine eyed her husband with compassion. He was working too hard himself, she thought, noticing the grey streaks in hair that had once been the color of walnuts. Ferumbras’ illness was difficult for everyone.
“He didn’t tell me, but I’m fairly sure he was heading outside. Judging by the look on his face when I spoke to him, he felt as though he was the only tween in the Shire who wasn’t having fun out in the snow.” Paladin managed a little laugh at the melodramatics of tweens.
“He might have been right, too,” Tina replied with a small laugh of her own. “Even the younger serving lads and lasses were given a chance to go outside for a little while this afternoon. Oh well, I suppose he’ll be in soon, it’s well after dark, after all.” She brushed her finger down the side of Pal’s face. “Don’t work through supper, dear. You need to eat.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Paladin replied. “I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
He lied, of course. Eglantine thought fondly. She knew that after supper, he would return here to his books and continue to work late into the night, but at least he would come to supper tonight. That was better than yesterday, when he worked right through. With one last concerned look she left, returning to the waiting seamstress and several other tasks that she still had ahead of her before supper.
***
Pippin lay on his back, stunned. The heavy tree limb had hit him in the chest, knocking him to the side and down. He’d fallen over something solid, a boulder or log, and a second branch, dislodged by the first, crashed down on his exposed legs. He was very thoroughly pinned, dazed, and in a great deal of pain. Struggling, he tried to free himself, but could get no leverage and every movement brought more pain.
Pushing aside the panic that threatened to choke him, he tried to take stock of his situation. It was late, well past sunset, and cold. Surely someone would miss him soon and set out to find him. It was only a matter of time before he was found and freed. He clung to that thought as waves of pain washed over him and consciousness faded.
Chapter three
As the stated heir to Ferumbras, Paladin, along with his family, was privileged to take his meals in the Thain’s Room, an intimate dining room traditionally used by the Thain and his personal guests when he wanted to eat in more privacy than the Great Hall provided. As a matter of practice, however, Paladin and Eglantine had established the habit of eating in the Hall most nights. Having lived so many years at Whitwell before coming back to the Smials, they had found themselves somewhat estranged from everyone. Taking their meals with everyone else gave all the residents of the Smials a chance to reconnect with the hobbit who would one day be their Thain, and his family.
So when Paladin was ready to join his family for supper, he headed to the Great Hall. He was a few minutes late, but that would not matter, as meals were generally informal, unless it was a special feast day or high holiday. The only nod to formality was the head table, which stood alone at one end of the room. The center chair at this table was reserved for use by the Thain alone, although it had been many weeks since Ferumbras had been strong enough to eat in the Great Hall, and the rest of the seats were used by top members of the family. When Paladin entered the room, he saw that Eglantine had arrived ahead of him and begun to eat. Pervinca, their youngest daughter, was sitting close to her mother. They were most likely discussing plans for Vinca’s upcoming wedding. It was a difficult thing, planning a wedding with the Thain so close to dying, and no date had been set, but there were many other details that could be worked out, and Vinca seemed to think of little else these days.
Paladin rested a hand on Eglantine’s back as he slipped into his seat to the right of the Thain’s chair; she gave him an absentminded smile in greeting. Signaling to a server, he scanned the room as he waited for his meal to arrive. He noted the presence of several hobbits with whom he wanted to speak and several more with whom he most definitely did not want to speak. It would be a dance, one that he didn’t much enjoy, but it was a part of his life now, and there was no getting around it.
“Pal, Pippin still hasn’t returned. No one’s seen him.” Eglantine’s worry was clear, and Paladin frowned
“He’s probably just gone off to the Sheaf and Shears for supper,” he reassured her. “If he hasn’t returned by the end of the meal, I’ll pop down myself and see what’s keeping him. He’s a bit young to be spending the evening there.”
“I wish you would,” Eglantine replied. “It’s been dark for well over an hour now and it’s really getting quite cold.”
Paladin tried to ignore the flash of irritation he felt towards his son. He didn’t really have the time to go jaunting off to the inn to retrieve an errant child, but Tina would worry until he was found. And truth to tell, Pal was a little concerned as well. While Pippin was certainly old enough to go off on his own for an afternoon, he was usually considerate enough to tell someone where he was going and when he expected to return. That he hadn’t said anything led Paladin to believe Pippin hadn’t intended to be out this late.
***
“Have you decided on something, then?” Estella asked as Merry approached the counter of the glass-shop once again.
“Yes, thank you, I’ll take this.” He carefully placed a glass cluster of mushrooms on the counter. The glass had been delicately tinted to show the color of the mushrooms and the grass in which they nestled, and Merry thought it an oddly charming little arrangement.
“Very nice selection. I’m sure your aunt will love it.” Estella looked as though she might be laughing at him, although the only outward sign this might be so was a slight crinkling of the eyes.
“Yes, well, I’m sure she will,” Merry replied, suddenly uncertain. What was wrong with it? Aunt Teenie loved mushrooms, nearly as much as cousin Frodo. Accepting the ornament, now wrapped in several layers of soft cloth, he paid and left the store, feeling much less confident than he had moments before.
Back at the Floating Log, he added the bundle to his pack and made his way to the common room, ready for something to eat, a mug of beer, and a pipe before bed.
***
Pippin swam stubbornly back towards consciousness. Awareness came slowly and when it arrived, he changed his mind and decided he wanted nothing to do with it. He was trembling with cold and pain, and he had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than the oblivion that had been his moments before, but a distant voice in his head warned him that he mustn’t sleep, that if he slept he might never wake again. He couldn’t remember where he’d heard that or if it was even true, but the voice was insistent and it didn’t seem like something he wanted to chance.
Opening his eyes, he took stock of his situation. There was a heavy weight across his chest and legs, and after a long moment’s thought he decided it might be related to the pine needles scratching his face. He had no idea whether it was a whole tree or just a branch, but it was heavy enough to pin him either way. He squirmed experimentally, thinking he might be able to pull himself out from under it, but an intense stabbing pain in his leg caused him to cry out and fall still. He lay for a long moment, panting and trying to get the pain under control so that he could think clearly again. Something was terribly wrong with his leg, that much was now abundantly clear.
***
Grimacing at the thought of going out into the cold, windy evening, Paladin pulled on his cloak, gave Esme a kiss and promised her that he would bring their son home. He’d had one of the ponies saddled and was grateful at least that he needn’t walk through the snow. Swinging up into the saddle, he reached down and took the lantern pole that the stable lad held for him.
It was a short ride into Tuckborough and Paladin dismounted in front of the Sheaf and Shears fifteen minutes later. Striding into the inn, he smiled and nodded, acknowledging the greetings of the hobbits gathered there but saw no sign of Pippin. Making his way to the bar, he greeted the barkeep.
“Ho, Andelmar, how goes it?”
“Not so poorly, Mr. Paladin, sir, not so poorly,” a short, fat hobbit answered him. “And what can I be gettin’ ye then?”
“I’m just looking for my son, Andy. Have you seen him tonight?”
“Nay, but I’ve only just come in less’n an hour ago. One of the lads might’ve seen ‘im before that.”
“Thanks, Andy, maybe I will have a beer. Just a half, mind.” Accepting the mug from the barkeep, he scanned the room more carefully, looking to see if any of Pippin’s particular friends were about. Spying several familiar faces, he worked his way through the crowd to their table.
“Hullo, Gordie, Taddo,” he called in greeting, pulling up a chair and joining them. “I’m surprised Pippin’s not here with you tonight.”
“Ah, he was off to the woods today, sir,” Gordie answered. “I was hopin’ to find him here meself, but I s’pose he weren’t in t’mood for a pint.”
“So you talked to him then?” Paladin prompted, taking a sip of his beer.
“Oh, aye. Tried to get him to come have a bit o’ supper with me family but he was too full of snow and woods and dreams, like, to come inside.”
“Have you seen him since?” Paladin asked, a little alarmed by this talk of woods.
“Nay. Why, is sommat amiss?” Gordie looked concerned. “I told him it weren’t a fit day to be out of doors, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Paladin smiled in spite of himself. That was his Pippin, all right. Once he’d got his head ‘round the idea of doing something, nothing short of an act of nature or a decree from on high could stop him from doing it. If Pippin had been intent on a walk in the woods, no enticements of home and hearth would have tempted him to change his mind. Still, he should have been back by now.
“How long ago was this, Gordie? He’s not been back home yet, and his mum’s getting a bit worried.” He tried to downplay the anxiety he was beginning to feel himself.
“Maybe three hours ago?” Gordie seemed unsure of the time.
“Right, I’d best go see if I can find him, then.” Paladin drained his beer and stood up. “Thank you for your help, lad. Have a round on me.” He tossed a few coins on the table and began to work his way to the door.
“Wait, sir,” Gordie called after him. “I’ll come with you. I shouldn’t never’ve let him go off alone, and you shouldn’t go alone neither.”
Paladin had almost reached the door but halted, considering Gordie’s words. “You’re right, and it’s no good haring off without a word to anyone what we’re doing, either. Ho, Tom Greenbanks,” he clapped a sturdy looking hobbit sitting at a nearby table on the shoulder. “I’m in need of a favor. Run up to the Smials and deliver a message to my wife for me, will you? Tell her I’ve taken a few likely lads into the woods to round up Pippin. If we’re not home in an hour or so, I’ll send further word, but I don’t imagine he’s too far off.”
Tom nodded and stood, grabbing his cloak. “That’s me off, then,” he said in farewell to his friends, and left the inn, heading up the hill to Smials.
“Gordie, see if you can round up a few more of Pippin’s friends to help.” Paladin continued. “He’s probably just wool-gathering and I don’t want the whole Shire called out to find him, but the woods are big; it’ll be easier if there’re more of us. I’m going to get a few things and I’ll meet you out by the stables.”
Chapter four
It was dark and cold, and seemed to be getting colder with every painful breath Pippin took. The darkness was lifting slightly, but he couldn’t tell if his eyes were adjusting to the lack of light or if the clouds were blowing away, leaving the stars free to shine. While the thought of more snow was rather frightening at this point, a clearing sky meant that the temperature was more likely to drop over night. He didn’t know how cold it might get before dawn and didn’t particularly want to find out.
His entire body was trembling from cold and pain, and each convulsive movement of the muscles in his leg sent more pain shooting through him. After the first shock of his situation had worn off, he had done his best to determine the extent of his injuries. He already knew that something was badly wrong with his right leg and didn’t even try to move it. Moving very cautiously, he had been able to wiggle the toes of his left foot, and then gingerly flex the ankle. He didn’t have enough freedom of movement to bend his knee, but flexing the leg muscles hadn’t set off any alarms, so he’d concluded that it was probably relatively uninjured. He’d rested then, not wanting to do any further damage to himself. Now he was just waiting, repeating over and over to himself that someone would find him at any moment.
***
Paladin paced back and forth in front of the inn’s stable, waiting for Gordie to return with help. With each passing moment, his anxiety was building. He was quickly becoming convinced that something was very wrong, although nothing in the outward situation had changed. Pippin was only a few hours overdue, but those few hours could be significant.
“Here we are, then, sir,” Gordie announced, trotting up with half a dozen sturdy young hobbits.
“Ta for helping, lads,” Paladin said gratefully to the gathered crew. “I suppose I’m just an overanxious father, but Pippin’s quite late checking in and no one’s seen him since this afternoon.”
“T’is no bother, Mr. Paladin,” Gordie reassured him. “But we’d best get started if we want to get finished, if you take my meaning.”
Paladin nodded. “Right, then. We’ll head out in pairs; stick together and return here in an hour if you haven’t seen any sign of him.” After giving a few more brief instructions and handing out supplies, he sent them on their way, keeping Gordie with him. Splitting into pairs, each group grabbed a lantern and headed out. Paladin swung a pack to his back, picked up his own lantern, and set out towards the woods to the east of town.
“You’re really worried, aren’t you, sir?” Gordie asked as he trotted to keep up with Paladin.
Paladin didn’t respond immediately, walking at the best pace he could manage along the snow covered wood-cutters’ path that led to the woods. “I am,” he finally answered. “I don’t for the life of me know why, but something feels wrong. It’s like an ache in my chest, Gordie. My lad needs me.” He spared Gordie a half-apologetic smile, expecting to see amusement or mockery on the lad’s face.
“I understand,” Gordie replied quietly. “My da had a bit of the sight, you know. Not much, but sometimes he just knew things.”
Paladin eyed the lad thoughtfully. He’d never put much stock in the notion of this ‘sight’ that some spoke of, but he had to admit that on the rare occasions when a gut feeling took him this strongly, it was usually true. Such thoughts gave him small comfort right now, when he wanted nothing more than for his anxiety to be misplaced and he tried to dispel his growing concern.
A few minutes later the track they were following entered the eaves of the woods. Holding up his lantern, Paladin scanned the ground for any traces of footprints in the snow, but could see nothing definite. Exchanging a glance with Gordie, he took a deep breath and entered the sheltering overhang of branches.
As they moved further into the woods, the layer of snow on the ground lessened, interweaving overhead branches having caught much of it. Finally, they found what they were looking for. In the light of their lanterns, they could clearly see a bootprint that was only partially filled in with fluffy snow. Looking ahead, they saw several more, with the trail leading deeper into the woods. They followed this trail without speaking, until they had gone nearly a mile.
“I don’t see any more tracks, sir,” Gordie muttered, lifting his lantern high to peer around.
“Here,” Paladin said, moving over to the side. “There’s a small path here; it looks recently disturbed.” He indicated the small branches that were denuded of snow, and a freshly broken twig. “I suppose he went off this way.” Not best pleased, Paladin followed the trail, angling away from the main path and heading deeper into the woods.
***
Trying to keep himself awake, Pippin began trying to extricate his arms from under the tangled branches lying across his body. He quickly found that his right arm was thoroughly pinned, but there was at least a little wriggle room on his left side. Moving very carefully, he worked first his fingers and then his whole hand, but was soon forced to give up the attempt; his elbow was trapped close to his side and he couldn’t move his arm more than an inch or two.
“Well, this is a fix and no mistake,” he muttered, shivering. He twisted his head to one side and then the other, trying to ease the discomfort of lying in cold snow for an extended period of time, to little avail. The only thing that would help, he thought rather gloomily, would be to get up off the snow, and that wasn’t really an option right now.
He drifted for a while after that, mind shutting down in self defense against his misery, and when he came back to himself he was unsure how much time had passed. He was equally unsure at first what had brought him back to full, shivering awareness. Maybe he’d heard something; he lay perfectly still, tense and straining. There, he heard it again. It was a vibration felt through the ground more than an actual sound, footsteps on frozen earth and he felt a sudden surge of hope, maybe help was on the way. His hopes were dashed when a deer came bounding out of the woods and leaped over him, continuing on without pause. The disappointment cut deep and he fought to hold back a choked cry of despair. It was several minutes before he realized he could still feel/hear the vibrations of footsteps moving in his direction. And then he heard something he had almost despaired of, the distant sound of a soft hobbit voice.
***
Pippin’s tracks were more distinct on this smaller path. They were able to follow the marks easily and made better time, moving over the frozen ground as quickly as the snow permitted. A sudden rustle in the branches was the first indication they were not alone, and Paladin and Gordie both jumped when the deer burst out of the woods and ran ahead of them up the path.
“Oh my stars,” Gordie gasped. “I thought it was a bear!”
“There aren’t any bears in these woods, Gordie,” Paladin answered softly. “Most of the beasts hereabouts are much smaller than that. You should know that.” He looked at the younger hobbit curiously.
Gordie flushed under his elder’s eye. “Sorry, sir. But there are unsettling tales going around and you never know what might be lurking, even in your own back yard, so to speak.”
“Ah, lad,” Paladin answered, resting his hand reassuringly on Gordie’s shoulder. “Pay no mind to the rumors. Someone is always spreading such tales in order to make himself look bigger and braver. These woods are --” he broke off suddenly, holding up a hand for silence.
He thought he’d heard…yes, there it was again. A very faint cry, coming from farther up the trail. Leaving Gordie to follow as he would, he took off at a run, calling out. “Pippin! Pippin, are you out here, son?”
An answer came back, more distinct this time. “Da? Da, I’m here.” Pippin’s call was weak but close at hand and it was only a moment more before Paladin was kneeling in the snow, cradling Pippin’s head in his lap.
“Oh, lad,” he murmured, “I was that worried about you.”
“Da,” Pippin whispered. “My…leg. Think I’m…bleeding.” Sighing, he closed his eyes and went limp in Paladin’s arms.
“Pippin? Pippin!” Paladin cried. “Wake up, son. Come on, now, wake up.”
Pippin moaned slightly but did not stir and Paladin looked up at Gordie. “You’ll have to run, lad. Go back to the inn and get help. We’ll need blankets and bandages, rope, and more hands. And send word to the Smials as well, to have a healer waiting when we get there. Quick now, go!”
Gordie looked from Pippin, lying still and pale in his father’s arms, to Paladin, face drawn with fright, and turned to follow his instructions. Running as quickly as he could without injuring himself in the process, he fled back to the inn and help.
***
Pippin drifted back towards consciousness, with his father’s scent in his nostrils and the sound of his father’s voice in his ears.
“Come on, now, son, talk to me.” Paladin’s voice was commanding, and Pippin did his best to obey, mumbling something that even he couldn’t really understand.
“There’s a lad. Open your eyes for me now, Pippin.”
Sighing, Pippin complied, heaving heavy lids up and blinking rather blearily at his father. Paladin’s face was pinched with worry and cold, and Pippin was struck with the realization that it was his fault.
“S..sor..sorry, Da,” he whispered, teeth chattering with cold.
“Hush,” Paladin answered, smiling in relief. “Don’t worry about it now. I’ve sent Gordie for help, but I need to know how badly you’re hurt.”
“S..something’s w..wrong wi..with my r..r..right l..leg.” His ribs were sore as well, but it was too hard to get the words out past the shivering and he didn’t really think they were broken anyway, just bruised and painful.
Paladin gently lowered his head back to the ground and Pippin would have protested, but he was once again having trouble staying awake. He allowed his eyes to close as his father moved around him, testing the branch to see if he could move it on his own. Pippin’s last thought as he drifted off again was that he was safe now. His da was here.
Chapter five
Paladin shrugged off his cloak, ignoring the icy wind that easily penetrated the coat he wore underneath. Lifting his son as gently as he could, he spread the cloak on the ground under Pippin’s head and shoulders, trying to separate him from the cold snow as much as possible while still keeping his body flat on the ground. Pippin’s eyes fluttered and his breathing hitched, but he didn’t wake.
“Don’t worry, lad, help is on the way,” Paladin muttered, more to reassure himself than in any expectation that the quiet figure lying next to him could hear his words. Unable to sit still, Pal set himself to the task of building a fire. By the time he’d cleared a small area of snow, gathered enough dry twigs and branches and got a little fire started, Pippin was stirring restlessly.
“Easy, Pippin, don’t try to move,” Paladin cautioned as he sank down by Pippin’s head.
“Da?”
“Aye, and who else do you think would be sitting around in the cold waiting for you to wake your lazy self up?”
“’m not lazy,” Pippin protested muzzily. “I’d be more than happy to get up if you’d get this tree off me.”
“Well, now, that’s going to have to wait just a little longer, son,” Paladin answered. “Help is on the way, though, so you just hold on and we’ll have you free in no time.”
“Now who’s being lazy?” Pippin asked with a hint of a strained smile. “I’m thirsty. Is there any water?” he asked a moment later.
Paladin looked him over carefully. Pippin wasn’t showing any visible signs of shock, but he wasn’t ready to rule it out. “I’m sorry, son. Once we get you home and have the healer look you over, you’ll be able to have something to drink.”
Pippin made no protest but closed his eyes, frowning slightly. It was quiet then, save for the crackle of the fire. Paladin did his best to wait patiently, but with each minute that passed, his worry grew. If Pippin was bleeding, the wound needed to be staunched and bandaged sooner rather than later, but there was nothing he could do on his own. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that attempting to shift the branches by himself was anything other than plain stupid, but the longer he waited, the more tempted he became to do something, anything, no matter how stupid it was.
He was very relieved when, after what seemed like several hours and was probably less than one, he heard the sounds of several hobbits approaching. Gordie had returned. Before he could say anything, someone had wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and pushed a flask of something hot into his hands.
“Drink up, Mr. Paladin, sir. We’ll take things from here.”
Finding himself on the sidelines, Paladin watched helplessly as hobbits swarmed about the downed branches, tying ropes here and there, carefully testing each branch to see how much give there was in the tangle, cutting carefully into the branches only when it was deemed unlikely to further injure the trapped hobbit.
***
Pippin woke to pain and confusion. Something shifted above him, causing something else to poke him in the chest. Unable to restrain a quiet moan, he opened his eyes to see shadowy figures moving around him. He could hear them speak, but the words were elusive, seeming to slip away from him like a bar of wet soap in the bath. What he was able to understand was that rescue was at hand.
It took time to get the tangle of branches off him without doing further damage, and the procedure was painful in spite of all the care taken, but eventually the terrible weight was gone and Pippin lay shivering in the cold night air. His da reappeared at his side as soon as the last branches had been removed; he knelt in the snow and smoothed the wet hair off Pippin’s forehead, distracting him while someone did something incredibly painful to his leg that made him cry out despite his best efforts not to. When it was done he felt weak and wrung out, too shaky to hold on to any thought for more than a second or two. Then hands were lifting him and he found himself on a litter, being carried through the woods. Everything was swimming around him now, sight, sound and thoughts swirling together uneasily and he closed his eyes against it all, sinking gratefully into the deep, black absence of unconsciousness.
***
It took longer than Paladin would have preferred to get Pippin out of the woods. It was awkward enough to slog through the snow without the added burden of a litter, but the hobbits took turns carrying it and they reached the edge of the woods in due course. There, Paladin was relieved to find a pony and wagon waiting for them. Carefully transferring Pippin to the wagon bed, they were able to make much better time the rest of the way to the Great Smials.
Paladin looked down at the pale face nestled amongst the blankets on the wagon bed, proud of his son. Pippin had only cried out once, when pressure was applied to the nasty gash on his thigh to stop the bleeding. The leg was almost certainly broken as well as badly cut and the pain must have been excruciating. He lay quietly enough now, however, and Paladin hoped that was a good sign.
“Did you send word to the Smials?” Paladin asked Gordie, who was sitting on the buckboard.
“Aye, and told them to have the healer ready when we got there.” Gordie was quiet a moment before asking, “Is he…will he be…how badly is he injured, sir?”
Paladin looked up into the pale, earnest face of his son’s friend, remembering suddenly how young Gordie was, only two years older than Pippin. The lad had shown excellent presence of mind during this whole thing and should be rewarded in some way. Paladin made a mental note of that, then allowed it to slide to the back of his mind; not forgotten, just put away until a more appropriate time to think on it.
“He’ll be fine, Gordie. That leg needs tending to, certainly, and he needs warming up, but I have no doubt he’ll be fine soon enough.” Gordie looked reassured. Paladin wished he could be reassured as easily, himself. They wouldn’t know how badly Pippin’s leg was injured until the healer looked at it, but Paladin worried over it anyway. The wound looked bad. It had begun bleeding heavily as soon as the branch stabbing him had been removed, and it had taken some time to staunch it. Losing that much blood was never good for anyone. Taking a deep breath, Paladin forced himself to relax. Pippin would be fine and Paladin would keep telling himself that over and over until it was true.
They were met at the main entrance to the Smials by Eglantine and Adagar Brockhouse, the healer. Paladin saw Tina bite her lip to contain a cry as she saw Pippin, but she immediately drew herself up, not allowing any weakness to show in public. Doing the same himself, he moved out of the way as Adagar climbed into the back of the wagon to examine Pippin.
“Hm, yes, we’ll wait until he’s in bed to take that bandage off and have a look at the wound. Any other injuries? Fever? No, well let’s get him inside then, no sense letting him freeze to death out here.” With that, the hobbit hopped back down to the ground and motioned to the others to bring the litter. “Carefully,” he cautioned, needlessly. “I’m sure Peregrin would thank you not to drop him along the way.”
Adagar Brockhouse, commonly known as Dag, was one of the oddest hobbits Paladin had ever met and he wasn’t even a Took, had no Took blood in him at all, as a matter of fact. He was, however, an exceptional healer despite his fairly young age, not yet fifty. As long as Dag was chattering away like a mad squirrel, all was well. It was only when he grew silent and focused that danger loomed on the horizon. Right now, Dag was mumbling and muttering, half to himself and half to the hobbits carrying the litter, and Paladin was able to breathe a little easier for the first time since he had found Pippin in the woods.
Joining Eglantine just inside the door, he sent her a warm look and squeezed her hand.
“Is it…bad?” she asked quietly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
“It could have been,” Pal answered, “if you hadn’t sent me out after him.” He glossed over the injuries, knowing they would both get more details than they really wanted once Dag had finished looking the lad over, and not wanting Tina to worry any more than she already was.
There was a fire blazing on the hearth in Pippin’s room, and blankets had been set in front of it to warm. Once Pippin, still unconscious, had been transferred to his own bed and the hobbits carrying the litter had left, Dag set to work, laying out his supplies and then unwrapping the bandage from Pippin’s thigh. He washed the wound thoroughly, making sure there were no splinters of wood from the branches before rebandaging it. “That will need stitches,” he muttered, “but we’ll wait until the bone has been set, yes?” Moving aside the basin of bloody water, he turned to Paladin. “I’ll need your help for this.”
Paladin and Tina had been standing by the hearth, out of the way, but at Dag’s summons, Paladin moved to his son’s bedside. “What do you want me to do?”
“Hold him down. This is going to be painful and he’ll probably wake up in the middle of it,” the healer explained. “I have to set the bone and then immobilize his leg. Once that’s done, I’ll be able to stitch up the gash.”
Following the healer’s instructions, Paladin held Pippin’s upper body against the mattress, tensely waiting for Dag’s next move. When it came, the sudden violence of it took him by surprise, despite his readiness. Dag pulled and twisted swiftly and forcefully, and Pippin’s eyes flew open, body flailing against the pain, a cry catching on his lips. Paladin held him still and a moment later Pippin went limp again, sweat beading his brow and Paladin’s.
Dag moved quickly from there, stitching and bandaging the gash and then splinting the leg so Pippin wouldn’t be able to inadvertently move it. Only when that was all done did he gently wake the injured lad.
“Pippin, come on now, lad. Wake up.”
Pippin’s eyes fluttered and he frowned. “…wish people would stop saying that,” he mumbled roughly.
“Well, you just need to stay awake, then.”
Pippin opened his eyes fully and looked around, catching sight of his parents. “Mum,” he whispered.
“That’s right, lad,” Dag said jovially. “You’re home now. Just rest easy here for a few minutes while I fix you something to drink.” Dag moved away from the bed, motioning Paladin and Tina to keep the patient company.
“Hello, darling,” Tina said, carefully settling herself on the edge of Pippin’s bed and resting a soothing hand on his brow. “You gave us a bit of a scare, you know, disappearing like that.”
“Sorry, Mum,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to.” Pippin looked exhausted, lines of pain showing where his skin had always been smooth before.
“We know that, lad,” Paladin assured him. “But I think we might have to come up with a new set of rules for wandering around in the woods alone.” He said this gently, to let Pippin know he wasn’t in any trouble, but he meant it. It was dangerous to be out there alone, too many grim scenarios sprang to Paladin’s mind, and he wasn’t going to allow any of them to happen to his child.
Dag returned then and lifted Pippin’s head, while Eglantine placed several pillows to comfortably prop the lad up.
“I want you to drink all of this, Pippin,” Dag said, handing a mug of something that looked rather murky to Pippin. “It will ease the pain and help you sleep. And once it’s gone, you can have some water if you’re still thirsty.”
Pippin accepted the mug with a grimace. He drained it in three swift gulps, and then gratefully drank a glass of water to get the foul taste out of his mouth. Settling back on his pillows, he looked very young and vulnerable, and Eglantine stroked his forehead, whispering soothing words to him as his eyes closed and he slipped back into sleep. Only when she was sure he was resting comfortably did she move from his side.
“How is he really, Dag?” she asked anxiously.
“That leg is a mess, quite frankly, and it’s going to need a lot of looking after to heal properly. Good thing I’m here.” The healer grinned briefly before continuing. “He’s lost some blood but not as much as he might have, so that’s a point in his favor. He’s still a bit shivery from being out in the cold so long, but I’m hoping he’ll warm up nicely now that he’s inside, in a cozy bed. And in that cozy bed he’ll be staying for a good long while, I might add. Once he’s feeling better, that is going to be a bone of contention between you and he, I can practically guarantee it, so you might want to start thinking now about ways to entertain him.”
Dag put a small bag of herbs in Tina’s hands. “Make him a tea with this, every four hours for now; it will ease the pain and help him sleep, but it will also help the wound to heal cleanly.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Eglantine, he’s a strong, healthy lad, and he’ll heal fine. He’s just going to need us to help him with that for a little while.”
Packing up his bag, he reassured Pippin’s parents that they could call on him at any time if they had any concerns whatsoever, and that he would return first thing in the morning, regardless, to check in on his patient. And then, with a cheerful farewell, he took his leave.
Will Pippin ever walk again? Will Merry hook up with that Estella chick again, or was it just two ships passing in the night? Please to be continuing to the next post for the final chapters of this thrilling saga.
