Chapter 7. As the Dust Settled

Everard and the other hobbits at the diggings lay flat for a long time, hugging the ground, before the first unsteadily climbed to his feet, the others following suit somewhat sheepishly. Their ponies, conditioned to the noise of a blast, were not trained to stand when the earth rocked violently beneath their feet. The beasts had pulled their pickets and were running wild on the plain.

 ‘Did—did we do that?’ Lem asked shakily, the sweep of his arm encompassing the now serene landscape.

 ‘Nay,’ Everard said, ‘that was an earthshake, something they taught us about but I never in my lifetime expected to see.’ He shook his head as if to clear it and raised his voice in a shout. ‘Is anyone injured?’

Shouts of All well! came back from the scattered workers.

 ‘Right then! Gather round!’ Everard shouted. He trotted to the diggings, his assistants behind him, Lem following.

Reaching the site of the blast, Everard stopped for a quick survey. ‘Powder did just as it was asked,’ he said to the others who came up behind him. He clapped Lem on the back saying, ‘Tookbank rock is really something! Look at it, a perfect entryway as planned. I figured it would fall in with the earth shaking as it did, but no, there’s no damage apparent, save our nerves perhaps.’

 ‘That bodes well for Tookbank,’ Dinny said behind him. ‘Not too many roofs ought to have come down on folks’ heads.’

 ‘We’ll take a look anyhow,’ Everard said, squinting towards the peaceful little community. Smoke was rising, more than ought to come from cooking fires, he thought. ‘There may be injuries, and digging out to do. Come along.’ He took a few strides towards the town, then stopped. ‘Dinny,’ he said, ‘if you can get hold of a pony, I want you to ride to the Great Smials and let the Thain know what’s happened.’

 ‘He probably already knows,’ Dinny said dryly. ‘Even if we were at the centre, they ought to have felt something in Tuckborough.’

***

Reginard was aware of the silence for some time before he lowered his arms from covering his head. It was so very silent... perhaps the roar of the tortured ground had deafened him. But no, he heard a faint voice that seemed to be calling his name.

He pushed aside debris that had fallen against his desk, ended up having to worm his way around a great beam that had fallen onto the desk. He blessed the sturdy piece of furniture, and the luck that had caused him to fall beneath the desk when he tried to rise from his chair, a chair now in slivers and strewn over the lush carpet. He could hardly see the carpet for all the debris. Quite a clearing out would be needed to set the Thain’s study to rights.

 He realised his thoughts were drifting as the voice called his name again. ‘Where are you?’ he shouted.

 ‘Here!’ Pippin’s voice called back; it was Pippin, though he did not sound at all like himself, Regi thought disjointedly. ‘Cannot hold...’

Moving as in a dream, Regi crawled to the window, not noticing the shattered glass scattered over the floor that cut into his hands and knees. How could Pip be outside the window? They were on the highest level of the Great Smials. The tallest ladder was needed to wash the windows, and few were the servants who were daring enough to tackle the task.

The curtain rod on the left-hand window was askew, one end still in its holder, the other on the floor, braced hard against the wall as if some weight pinned it there. Reaching the opening, Regi peered cautiously out. There was no sign of the Thain.

 ‘Here!’ Pippin gasped, and looking down, Regi found the world coming back into sharp focus. Just below him, the Thain clung desperately to the fabric hanging from the rod.

He must have grabbed at the curtain as he fell through the window, Reginard thought with the part of his mind that was still oddly detached, even as he grasped at the curtain and said, ‘Hold tight! I’ll pull you in!’

 ‘Hurry!’ Pippin said. ‘I cannot hold much longer...’

As if he were hale as the Old Took himself, Regi pulled at the curtain with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. Happily Pippin had not put on weight with age as most hobbits did, or the older hobbit would never have managed. Hand over hand he pulled, seeing with no more than academic interest the bloody smears his grasp left on the fabric, until he could reach Pippin’s hand. He elected to grasp the arm instead, fearing the hand would slip from his, bleeding as he was. How had he cut himself? No matter. He pulled Pippin into the study, trying to avoid the worst of the jagged edges of glass still in the frame.

The Thain was bleeding from many gashes, Regi saw, and he quickly stripped away Pippin’s waistcoat and shirt to bare the rapidly paling skin. He tore the shirt to pieces, forming compresses with some of the fabric and tying these firmly in place with strips made from the sleeves. When he ran out of fabric he hurriedly doffed his own shirt and put it to work. Help ought to be coming soon...

 ‘Help is on the way,’ he told Pippin. ‘Hold on, Pip.’

 ‘Cannot... cannot hold...’ Pippin whispered.

Reginard fumed, where was everyone? ‘Help!’ he shouted. ‘We need a healer here!’

 ‘Did someone call for help?’ Tolly said vaguely from the doorway. He crawled into the room and collapsed, unmoving.

 ‘Now isn’t that just fine,’ Regi muttered. The escort was always there, in the way, when it was most inconvenient, but when you really wanted one of them... He tied the last compress in place, noting the red stain that began to show through almost immediately. ‘Hold tight, Pip,’ he said again. ‘I’m going to call for help.’

 ‘I thought you just did that,’ Pippin mumbled, moving his head fretfully.

Regi patted Pippin’s shoulder. His knees hurt as he straightened up. Looking down, he saw shards of broken glass between him and the window. He picked up his waistcoat and used it to sweep the glass aside as he moved cautiously to the window. Looking out, he saw bodies on the ground. Sleeping! At a time like this! Others were moving slowly about the yard in seemingly meaningless activity.

 ‘Hoy!’ the steward shouted. One or two looked up. ‘Hoy!’ he shouted again. ‘We need a healer!’

 ‘You and everyone else!’ Young Tom shouted back. He was bent over Meliloc Brandybuck, who’d just awakened and was asking what had happened. Durned if Young Tom knew what had happened, but they were in an awful mess, they were.

 ‘It’s the Thain!’ Reginard shouted back.

Young Tom looked again. Sure and it was the steward there in the high window, though Tom hadn’t recognised him at first, filthy, shirtless, smeared with blood. ‘Coming!’ he shouted. To Meliloc he said, ‘Here, hold this cloth against your head. You’re bleeding pretty bad, but heads often do, I find. You’re not bad hurt, I don’t think.’

 ‘Thanks,’ Meliloc said. ‘But the Thain...’

 ‘You let me worry about the Thain,’ Tom said, rising. He jogged over to the stables which of a wonder had withstood the shocks amazingly well. Still, there might be cracks in the beams and all. ‘Loose the ponies,’ he said to the dazed stable workers hovering near the entrance. ‘Put them in the field. Wouldn’t want the roof to come down on their heads should it decide to settle.’ He snagged a rope that had fallen from its hook and grabbed up an emergency bag that had hung next to it, full of necessities for doctoring an injured pony. It ought to suit hobbits just as well, he hoped.

He’d noticed no hobbits were coming out of the Great Smials and figured that the corridors were more than likely blocked. He grabbed at a young stable hobbit. ‘Tad!’ he said. ‘You climbed the outside of the Smials to win a wager, as I recall.’

 ‘The Thain fined me good and hard for it, too,’ Tad said. ‘He said if I was fool enough to take a dare again he’d see me discharged.’

 ‘He’s more like to kiss you this time,’ Tom said. ‘I want you to climb up to his study, that window, see?’ The steward had disappeared inside again, but Tom pointed to the proper window.

 ‘You jest,’ Tad said flatly. ‘I’d lifted one mug too many that other time. You really think I could climb that face?’

 ‘You’ve got to,’ Tom said. ‘I cannot get up there, nor anyone else, and the Thain needs help. I know you did it oncet, and if you take this rope up with you and fasten it to something solid I’ll be able to climb up after you.’

 ‘If you say so,’ Tad said slowly.

 ‘I do say so,’ Tom replied, pulling the stable lad after him. As they crossed the yard he peered at each hobbit they passed, but none was a healer. Healers were all inside the Smials and unable to get out, it seemed, or else in town, or away somewhere or other. Too bad none was in the yard when the shaking started.

He helped Tad fasten the rope to his belt, then the young hobbit spat on his hands, rubbed them together, and began to climb. Tom watched, his heart in his mouth as Tad moved slowly up the face of the cliff. The lad was able to pause at each level, resting when he’d come to a shattered window frame, catching his breath before going on. At last he reached one of the large windows of the Thain’s study and crawled inside.

Not long after, Tad appeared again and shouted, ‘Get back!’ Tom stepped back, wondering, but not for long. Tad had a sturdy stick in his hand, part of a shattered chair perhaps, and this he used to break the jagged glass from the bottom of the window frame before throwing the rope out. Tom waited as the rope snaked downward, slapping to a stop on the stones. ‘It’s tied to one of the desks!’ Tad shouted. ‘Oughter hold you!’

Tom nodded, made sure his bag was fastened securely, drew on his leather riding gloves, and began to shinny up the rope. Sturdy muscles from years of training ponies stood him in good stead now. Following Tad’s example, he rested at each level, but soon he was reaching for Tad’s outstretched hand and crawling in the study window.

***

Rose frowned at the unfamiliar faces bending over her. She was lying on softness; it must be her featherbed, for naught else was quite so soft and cosy, but sky was above her where there ought to be a curved whitewashed ceiling. And what were all these Tooks doing in her bedroom?

One of the sober faces put on a smile and said reassuringly, ‘There, now, Missus, you’re fine. We got to you before the fire did and pulled you out of there.’

Rose wrinkled her nose. That was what she was smelling: it was smoke! Was the damper closed? Why was there so much smoke in the bedroom? ‘Smoke,’ she said faintly.

 ‘We got you out,’ the Took repeated patiently. ‘The lass, too, not much the worse for wear.’

 Someone nearby was whimpering, someone else was moaning, and several were sobbing softly. There was a shifting in the faces surrounding Rose, and then she saw another of the Tooks, his arm around a dishevelled golden-haired lass. ‘See now, Miss Goldi?’ this one said. ‘She’s safe. Your mum is safe, she is.’

Goldilocks burst into sobs, burying her face in the broad chest. ‘O Mum!’ she cried. ‘O Mum!’ over and over again.

 ‘Goldi!’ Rose scolded, though her voice sounded strangely faint in her own ears. ‘What’s this nonsense? It’s not like you to carry on so.’

 ‘O Mum!’ Goldi cried again, lifting her face from the Took supporting her, falling upon Rose in a desperate embrace.

 ‘She saw the roof fall in and the flames go up,’ the first Took said softly. ‘She screamed so, it brought us running just in time to...’ He swallowed hard and looked away.

Memory came flooding back to Rose; she tried to sit up, calling, ‘Prim!’ but gentle hands pushed her back.

 ‘T’ lass is safe,’ the second Took said. ‘We got her out, same’s you, Missus. Don’t stir yourself. Healer’s coming.’

Primrose was sobbing nearby; Rose heard her say, ‘O it hurts! It hurts! O please...’ She heard young Bilbo speak soothing words though tears were in his own voice.

 ‘What’s happened to Prim?’ Rose whispered.

 ‘She’s burned, some,’ the first Took said, and at Rose’s gasp he added hurriedly, ‘The fire didn’t touch her, mind, it was the water from the tubs.’

Rose had been aware that her legs were burning as if they were afire, but the pain had been dull and somehow far away... but no longer. ‘My legs,’ she moaned.

Goldi sat up, dashing the tears from her eyes, and took Rose’s hand in hers. ‘Robin ran down the Hill, Mum,’ she said. ‘He’ll bring Aster Grubb, he said.’

 ‘I wish old Anise Grubb were still here,’ Rose said fretfully. ‘She had more of healing in her little finger than... Did all of Bag End fall in?’ she asked, looking past the faces to the sky.

 ‘No Missus,’ the first Took said, ‘we pulled the bedding out of the smial; Miss Goldi told us to.’

 ‘I was afraid the ceilings would come down,’ Goldi said. ‘All the outbuildings did: the chicken house, the woodshed, the washing shed...’ She couldn’t continue.

 ‘Bag End was built by Mr Bilbo’s father,’ Rose said stoutly. ‘It’s solid. I don’t believe anything could bring it down.’

 ‘Frodo and Day’s sitting room fell in,’ Goldi said quietly, ‘and parts of both of their bedroom ceilings as well. Good thing Day is visiting her parents in Bywater with the children.’

 ‘Frodo’s Daisy is safe; what of our own Daisy?’ Rose said, trying to sit up again. ‘And Ruby, and...?’

 ‘All are well,’ Goldi said firmly. ‘Robin pulled Ruby aside before the dish cupboard could fall upon her, and no one got more than cuts and bruises, save you and Prim. You got a few burns on your legs and feet, Mum, but they don’t look bad.’

She refrained from commenting about Frodo’s wife and children. They were in Bywater, for sure, and not in the fallen-in part of Bag End, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Smoke was rising from Hobbiton below, too much smoke, yet no Shirriff had ridden up the Hill blowing a muster. Presumably the residents of Hobbiton were already fighting the fires, even as the Tooks working in the Party Field had pulled her mother and sister from the ruins of the washing shed and put out the fire there. Smoke rose in the distance from the direction of Bywater as well.

Despite the growing heat of the day Goldi shivered. She desperately wished for the comfort of Faramir’s fingers curled through hers. She wondered how far the earth had shook. Had it gone all the way to Tuckborough?