Chapter 16. Forget-Me-Not

Pippin opened his eyes to see Diamond smiling at him hopefully. ‘Welcome back to the world, my love,’ she said softly.

 ‘What is the time?’ he asked.

 ‘Teatime,’ she said firmly. She had said the same, when he’d asked ten minutes earlier, and again a quarter hour before that. ‘I have some lovely broth for you.’ 

 ‘Broth!’ he protested weakly, just as he had earlier. ‘Broth is for sick folk!’

 ‘For me, dearest?’ Diamond said, bringing a mug to his lips.

He raised his right hand to intercept it, hearing someone behind him say, ‘The right side is responding nicely... I anticipate he’ll regain full function, at this rate.’

He knew the voice that answered, ‘Now that the pressure has been relieved...’

 ‘Strider!’ he said, pushing the mug away. ‘Stop hiding back there!’

Elessar stepped forward, into Pippin’s field of vision. ‘Welcome back, old friend,’ he said with a smile. ‘Drink up.’ He added a phrase his hobbit friends were fond of employing. ‘Plenty more where that came from.’

 ‘And you’ll force it down my throat until I float away, won’t you, Strider? I know how you healers work...’ He allowed Diamond to seat the mug against his lips and sipped. Ah, that hit the spot.

His head ached, and he tried to raise his left hand to soothe it, but something held his wrist in a firm grip. The old fear stirred: was he a prisoner? Had they bound him? Was Strider, was Diamond for that matter, a mere fever-dream?

Seeing the fear in his eyes, Diamond soothed. ‘All is well, dearest.’

 ‘Cannot lift... can’t lift my hand,’ he protested. His attention was drawn by another voice to his left, a sweet voice.

 ‘All is well. You mustn’t touch the dressing, you know.’

With an effort he looked to his left, seeing a smiling young hobbit lass. He realised that she was holding his hand, keeping him from touching his wounded head. How had his head got wounded? He closed his eyes, the better to think, and...

***

 ‘Pippin will be well, Merry. You have the King’s assurance.’

 ‘But after they... they... I thought they were killing him, Estella, to do what they did, and Diamond sat by and did nothing!’ Merry raised haunted eyes to his wife. ‘Would you do the same?’

 ‘If it were the only chance to save you, I would,’ Estella said bravely, though deep in her heart she shuddered at having to make such a choice. ‘And Diamond, sitting by and “doing nothing”, as you said, was fighting for her husband’s life! How many times you yourself have told me, The hands of the King are healing hands. Why would you not trust him now?’

Merry was shaking his head. ‘To do what they did... perhaps it were better, had they let him die.’

Estella wanted to protest, but the old hobbit superstition was too strong, rooted as it was in half-forgotten legend, whispered stories of the torments in long-ago Angmar, where torturers would cut a hole through the skull to let out a man’s spirit, leaving only a husk that would mindlessly follow the direction of the terrifying witch-king.

 ‘What if... what if he’s gone, what if Pippin is gone, his spirit fled? O Estella, how could we allow them to...?’

 ‘Master Holdwine,’ King Eomer said gently from the doorway. Merry jumped, his nerves flayed raw by the experiences of the past night and day, and Estella put her arms about her husband, glaring at the Man. ‘He is not gone,’ Eomer said. ‘I was sitting with him just now, and I thought to come and tell you of his progress. I think you must see for yourself, however.’

He stepped into the room, walking lightly, stopping short of the bed holding the wary hobbits. His heart grieved to see his old friends so reduced to fear and suspicion. The Eorlingas would catch that false knight, and they would exact a terrible payment for his deeds... but now the battle of trust must be waged, and won.

The king extended a hand. ‘Will you come with me?’ he said. Merry held his gaze a long moment, then nodded. Eomer gathered him in his arms, rising with a grunt of effort. ‘You’ve eaten well, these past few years, my friend,’ he said under his breath. The hobbit did not relax; he did not retort with a witticism as had been his wont.

Estella walked beside them, one hand on her husband’s bandaged foot. She wouldn’t let him out of her sight again anytime soon.

***

Pippin opened his eyes to see Diamond smiling hopefully at him. ‘Hullo, my love,’ she said. ‘Merry’s come to see you.’

 ‘What is the time?’ Pippin said. It seemed if he could just grasp the moment that eluded him, the world would steady and become comprehensible.

 ‘It’s teatime, dearest,’ Diamond said. It would remain teatime with every wakening, until she got the entire mug of broth into him, she vowed. ‘Come, have a sip of this broth.’

 ‘Broth!’ Pippin protested, rolling his eyes to meet Merry’s. His cousin sat in a chair just beyond Diamond. ‘That’s for sick folk!’ For some reason Merry didn’t smile, but Pippin saw some of the tension leave his cousin.

 ‘Just a few sips, my love,’ Diamond said in her most persuasive tone. ‘If you don’t drink it, I’ll have to, and you know how I feel about broth!’

 ‘Anything, to save you from having to sip broth, my love,’ Pippin responded, and drank several swallows from the mug she held for him. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Mmm,’ he said shortly. ‘That’s better than I thought it would be.’ He closed his eyes, the better to savour the rich flavour, and drifted on a sea of broth...

 ‘You see?’ Eomer said, his hand tightening on Merry’s shoulder. ‘He is the same Pippin.’

 ‘He will sleep much of the time, for sleep is healing,’ Elessar added, ‘growing stronger with each wakening. He will be well, Merry.’

Merry nodded. He watched Pippin sleep for a few more moments before nodding to Eomer to indicate he was ready to return to his bed, for his own measure of healing sleep. He’d rather have curled up next to his cousin, but with Diamond and all the children already there, crowded around Pippin, even that Big bed would not admit another hobbit.

***

Ferdibrand stared into a far distance, seeing nothing, hearing none of the words addressed to him. It had all been too much. First there had been the voice out of the past, the searing flames, the mocking laughter. Then had come the long darkness, cold as death. Light brought no relief, only more horror. He thought of what they’d done to Pip, ah, Pip... and wondered when they would come for him.

***

Pippin opened his eyes to see Diamond smiling at him hopefully. ‘Welcome back to the world, my love,’ she said softly.

 ‘What is the time?’ he asked.

 ‘Teatime,’ she said firmly, ‘though you’ve nearly slept through it! I have some lovely broth for you.’

 ‘Broth!’ he protested. ‘Broth is for sick folk!’

 ‘This is uncommonly good broth, and there’s not much here,’ Diamond said, bringing a mug to his lips. ‘You could likely finish it in two or three swallows.’

He raised his right hand to intercept the mug. Diamond let him take it, merely steadying the mug as he brought it to his lips and drank. It was surprisingly good, for broth.

His head ached, and he tried to raise his left hand to soothe it, but something held his wrist in a firm grip. The old fear stirred: was he a prisoner? Had they bound him? Was Diamond a mere fever-dream?

Seeing the fear in his eyes, Diamond soothed. ‘All is well, dearest.’

 ‘Cannot lift... can’t lift my hand,’ he protested. His attention was drawn by another voice to his left, a melodious voice.

 ‘All is well. You mustn’t touch the dressing, you know.’

With an effort he looked to his left, seeing a smiling young hobbit lass. He realised that she was holding his hand, keeping him from touching his wounded head. How had his head got wounded?

 ‘You’re very kind,’ he said with a smile of his own. ‘What’s your name?’

The tween exchanged glances with Diamond, remembering King Elessar’s strict instructions to show no surprise at anything her father might say.

 ‘Forget-me-not,’ she managed, somehow keeping her voice steady.

 ‘Forget-me-not,’ Pippin breathed. ‘I have a little lass by that name,’ he added dreamily. ‘Just a little thing. How sweet she is...’ His voice trailed off and he slept once more.