Chapter 14. Perchance to Dream

Faramir wakened suddenly to brilliant light instead of inky darkness. The others were lying upon the ground nearby, all tumbled together. Borogrin was moaning softly, hugging his right arm with his left. No, not quite all were tumbled there—Merigrin was under a pile of dirt and rocks. Somehow Farry could see his brother crumpled there, arms over his head and legs drawn up. ‘Meri!’ he said urgently, but Mergrin did not stir. He tried to dig the dirt away from his brother, but could not get a good purchase.

He turned to Ferdibrand. ‘Uncle Ferdi!’ he cried. ‘Meri’s buried! You’ve got to get him out!’

Ferdi stirred and sat up. ‘Borry?’ he said, groping blindly. But of course, Ferdi was blind. He couldn’t see what was plain to Faramir.

 ‘Uncle Ferdi!’ he cried again, tugging at Ferdi’s arm. ‘Over there! Meri’s buried! He’ll die for lack of air!’

‘My arm,’ Borry sobbed. ‘My arm, o it hurts!’

‘Steady lad,’ Ferdi soothed. ‘Meri? Merigrin? Faramir?’

 ‘I’m here, Uncle Ferdi,’ Faramir answered. ‘I’m well; not hurt at all, but Merigrin...’

‘Leave hold, Berry,’ Ferdi said, reaching behind him to pull the youngster’s hand loose. He crawled on the floor, sweeping in both directions with his hands, coming upon a foot, a leg, protruding from a pile of dirt. ‘Berry! Come and help me dig!’ he said frantically, pulling away dirt and rock. Beregrin scrambled behind him, found Merigrin’s foot, felt his way up his brother’s body and began to scrape at the smothering dirt. At last Ferdi was able to pull Mergrim free.

 ‘There, you’ve got him,’ Farry said in satisfaction. He turned his head, for someone was calling his name. He couldn’t quite hear... ‘Just a moment, Uncle Ferdi; I’ll be right back,’ he said over his shoulder. As he walked away he heard Berry sobbing Meri’s name.

Somehow the tumbled rock and dirt were no barrier. Faramir negotiated these easily, finding he could move right through walls if he had to. How odd, he thought. I wonder why I never discovered this trick before?

He came upon pockets of Tooks, sitting or lying on the floor. Some dug wearily, some sang softly, some lay very still. Coming to the great room he found a large number of Tooks and servants. Unlike the other areas Farry had passed through, this room was lit by torches that burned faint and red in the bright light flooding the Smials. Farry saw that the hobbits there had been busy setting things to rights, had put the tables and benches back on their legs, had salvaged what food they could. Farry paused by a basket of bread, but he no longer felt hungry and so he passed on, past the hobbits who were digging at the blocked entrance with fire irons and cooking tools.

Finally he was outside the Great Smials. Hobbits were lowering something from an upper window. Faramir gasped as he realised it was his father, bound to a door that acted as a makeshift litter. ‘Da!’ he cried, stumbling forward to take hold of the guiding rope as the door tilted and threatened to spill its load despite the binding ropes.

He saw a white blur out of the corner of his eye, and turning to look he saw Legolas and Gimli galloping towards them on a graceful ghost-coloured steed. They reached the yard just as the Thain was lowered to the stones.

Legolas slipped from the horse and ran lightly to the group of hobbits. ‘Pippin,’ he said.

 ‘I don’t think he hears you,’ Faramir said softly. The Wood Elf turned his head, a puzzled look on his face, but was distracted by Meliloc as the Brandybuck pushed himself to a standing position and spoke.

 ‘Legolas,’ he said, ‘We were expecting you, but I’d quite forgotten... forgive our poor hospitality. I’m afraid we have no rest to offer you.’

Gimli came up then, to steady Meliloc. ‘How can we help?’ he said urgently.

 ‘There’s a large body of Tooks trapped in the great room...’ Farry began.

Meliloc swayed in the Dwarf’s grasp. ‘You’d know better; you know more of digging than I do.’

A stable lad had run shouting into the Smials and now Everard emerged through a shattered window. ‘Gimli!’ he cried. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes. We’ve many missing inside.’

 ‘How much has come down?’ Gimli asked gruffly. Everard unrolled the plans clutched in his hand and the two bent over them, talking in low tones.

Legolas knelt at the side of the Thain as the rescuers unwound the rope binding him to the door. ‘Pippin,’ he said softly. He placed a gentle hand on Pippin’s forehead, listening hard to more than ears could hear, and took up one of Pippin’s hands.

Faramir could see his father’s spirit shining through, somehow as if he were about to shed his body the way a butterfly sheds its chrysalis. He heard his father calling for Diamond, though Pippin’s lips never moved.

 ‘And we had another shake, a little one,’ Everard was saying. ‘We had to dig out some of the rescuers then.’

 ‘I thought the Thain’s study would come down upon us all,’ put in Healer Sigimand, who’d slid down the rope once Pippin was safely on the ground. ‘Thankfully it didn’t.’ He was covered with dust from the crumbling ceiling, and bruised from larger chunks that had rained down upon him, but thankfully no more than that.

‘Where’s Diamond?’ Legolas said, raising his eyes from Pippin’s face. The hobbits fell silent, but the Elf did not miss the glances that passed between them. ‘Is she in the Smials?’ he asked, his hand tightening on Pippin’s.

 ‘We think not,’ Meliloc said. ‘The last I saw, the Thain’s wife and daughters were off on a picnic, but they haven’t been seen. They ought not to be far from here, but they’ve not returned and we could spare none to make a search, not knowing just where they were bound.’

 ‘They’re safe,’ Faramir said with certainty. Somehow he just knew though he wasn’t sure how he knew. Diamond was holding Forget-me-not and crying tears of relief, while the others gathered round to add their own kisses and hugs for the rescued tween. It had been a very near thing, but all were safe.

Legolas looked up, and Farry turned as he heard his name called again. ‘Who is it?’ he asked.

 ‘Faramir!’ the call came, and he could not resist but turned away to follow.

 ‘Wait,’ he said, pausing to turn back to his father. ‘Da,’ he said. ‘I have to go. Da, I... I love you.’ The voice called again and he felt the yard of the Smials fall away; the blue of the sky deepened to velvety black with sprinklings of star-jewels, and in the distance the white shore of a far green country beckoned.

 Pippin sat bolt upright, thrusting aside the Wood Elf’s hand, shouting, ‘Farry, no! Faramir!’ His eyes were wide and he grasped at the air in front of him before falling back into the supporting arms of those on either side of him.

 ‘Pippin?’ Legolas said softly.

 ‘Gone,’ Pippin whispered, shaking his head feebly without opening his eyes. ‘Gone.’

 ‘He’s lost far too much blood,’ Sigimand said. ‘I’ve got to get him into a bed and start forcing liquids down him. I stitched the worst of the wounds, but...’

 ‘They’re setting up pavilions in the party field for the injured,’ Meliloc said. His good-natured face had lost all colour and he sagged against the wall again.

 ‘Seems as if we ought to tuck you up as well,’ Siggy said dryly.

 ‘I’m well,’ Meliloc protested faintly.

The healer laughed. ‘The Tooks are rubbing off on you,’ he said. ‘You sound just as unreasonable as any one of us.’ He nodded to two helpers to take the Brandybuck over to the pavilions, saying, ‘Reginard is coming down next and he’ll take charge, Melly. You’ve done a good job of organising everyone in the meantime. Many thanks.’

Litter bearers were easing Pippin onto the litter. As they carefully lifted the Thain, Siggy took up one hand, Legolas the other, and they walked slowly across the yard on either side of the litter.

 ‘Now then, where do you suggest we start?’ Everard asked Gimli.

The Dwarf stroked his beard, considering. ‘How about the banquet hall?’ he said. ‘Ought to have been quite a few people there, as the shake hit just before elevenses, didn’t it?’ At the chief engineer’s blank look he amended, ‘The great room.’

 ‘Ah,’ Everard said, his face clearing. ‘That sounds like a good place, indeed, and it’s close to the main entrance.’ He got up, rolled the plan again, and set about the business of rescue with the Dwarf at his side.

***

Everything was so green here, myriad greens that dazzled the eyes and made him thirsty for more. He drank in the landscape of waving grasses, jewelled flowers, golden-leafed trees and azure sky. It wasn’t just his eyes, but all his senses... he was alive to birdsong and the sound of the breeze, the whisper of grass and leaves; he smelt fragrances that defied description and felt air and sunshine and a sense of well-being that bubbled up from somewhere within; he laughed aloud in joy.

 ‘There’s a grand sound,’ someone said behind him, and he turned, revelling in the sensation of movement. His body felt so alive, mere breathing was a pleasure, the air a benediction. He lifted his hand, staring, marvelling at the wondrous way his fingers could open and close.

 ‘You must be Pippin’s son,’ the same voice said, and Farry looked up from his bemusement to see a hobbit smiling at him. ‘You look just as I remember him.’

 ‘You have the advantage of me,’ he answered, then remembering his manners he bowed. ‘Faramir Took, at your service.’

The other hobbit rose lightly to his feet and bowed in return. ‘At at yours, and your family’s,’ he answered with a smile. ‘Ah how long it has been since I’ve had the occasion to utter those words.’

 ‘Who are you?’ Faramir blurted. The resemblance to his father was remarkable; this hobbit looked quite a bit like Pippin, only older. Fine lines creased his face when he smiled, and silver touched the curls on his head and feet.

 ‘Can you not guess?’ the other said, still smiling.

Faramir frowned. There was something so... familiar, about the face, something... Ah! That was it. This hobbit resembled the portrait he’d seen in the best parlour on visits to Brandy Hall.

The other hobbit’s smile brightened as recognition came into Faramir’s eyes. ‘That’s right,’ he said softly. Faramir’s gaze fell to the right hand, a hand missing a finger.

 ‘Frodo?’ he said. ‘Frodo Baggins?’

 ‘One and the same!’ Frodo said, laughing in delight.

 ‘How...? Where...?’ Faramir stammered.

 ‘Come,’ Frodo said, ‘Come and sit down.’ He took Faramir’s arm, walked him to one of the wondrous shining trees, sat him down against the silver trunk. ‘That’s better,’ he said.

 ‘Are you... are we dead?’ Faramir said, suddenly coming to a logical, if startling, conclusion.

Frodo threw back his head and laughed. ‘Dead?’ he said at last, fishing a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his face. ‘Certainly not! It is not my time yet, not until... well, suffice it to say, I’m not dead.’

 ‘But,’ Faramir said, puzzled again. ‘This place...’

 ‘Ah,’ Frodo said. ‘That’s a bit hard to explain. They do things differently here, you know.’

 ‘Do they?’ Faramir said faintly.

 ‘Indeed,’ Frodo said. ‘Someday you’ll understand. It’s all part of the Song, you know.’

 ‘No,’ Faramir replied. ‘I didn’t know.’

 ‘In any event,’ Frodo said, ‘You wandered too soon. It’s not your time. I was sent to meet you, to send you back.’

 ‘Back?’ Faramir said, confused. He wasn’t sure where back was.

 ‘You’re needed,’ Frodo said. ‘For one thing, Pippin has been so very badly injured, you know, and it’s not his time either, but he’ll very likely die of grief should he lose you now.’

 ‘Da...’ Farry whispered, feeling a tug at his heart. Back.

 ‘And Goldilocks,’ Frodo went on, breaking off suddenly with a thoughtful look. ‘I saw her, you know,’ he said conversationally, ‘before I left Samwise behind. I told him she would be coming along one of these days, and here she is, all grown up and about to marry!’

 ‘He wrote about that,’ Faramir said, his sense of unreality growing. His body was growing heavier. The light around him was dimming, and the air no longer blessed his lungs but burned.

 ‘She’s waiting for you,’ Frodo said. ‘You’re to be the next Thain, and the Thain after will be of your blood, and hers, but that cannot be if you stay here...’ The words grew ever fainter. Faramir struggled to open eyelids grown strangely heavy, and to hear through the rushing sound in his ears.

 ‘I wish you joy, Faramir, and boundless blessing,’ Frodo’s voice lingered even after Faramir could no longer see him or the bright world surrounding. ‘Laugh long, live long, love forever!’