Chapter 44. The Rising of a New Song

The sullen sky was growing lighter. Farry threw another armload of sticks on the fire and returned to the relative warmth of the cloaks.

 ‘Daylight,’ Goldi said sleepily. ‘They haven’t returned.’

 ‘No,’ Farry said, putting his arm around her after he’d settled the cloaks as well as he could, to keep out the bitter cold. ‘Thanks to your fire.’

As the flames had taken hold in the fading of the previous day, Adelbrim had launched his last arrow and fallen back; a great wolf had moved forward in a silent rush, knocking the escort to the ground as the hobbit instinctively threw his arms up to protect his face and neck. Farry’s sword had bitten deep, and the wolf had rolled away, convulsing. More wolves rushed at Farry, but Goldi rose from the now-vigorously burning fire, a flaming branch in each hand, to smite them on their muzzles and send them howling away.

Goldi used the respite to bind up Adelbrim’s bleeding arm with strips torn from her petticoats. They’d alternated pacing and huddling beneath the cloaks for the rest of the night, fearful of sleep.

The wolves had returned twice in the night, but a few well-aimed fiery missiles had discouraged them from trying to win their way through the narrow opening in the brambles. Faramir, sword in one hand and burning branch in the other, crept from the bramble patch at first light. He returned soon, his sword sheathed, bearing moss which he placed in the middle of the fire. Smoke began to rise. Farry kept feeding the fire dry wood and damp moss as they waited.

Some time before elevenses they heard ponies approaching, and a questing cry.

 ‘Here!’ Faramir shouted.

 ‘Farry! Goldi!’ came the answer. It was Rudivar, the Bolger himself, come in search with a body of hunters. He leapt from his pony, thrusting his way into the briar patch without thought of scratches or jabbing thorns, and embraced Faramir and then Goldilocks. ‘You were due yesterday, and then when word came that wolves had crossed the Brandywine we feared the worst...’

 ‘How did they get across?’ Farry asked. ‘I thought the Brandybucks had the gates up on the Bridge when they heard that wolves were prowling around the High Hay.’

 ‘The River’s frozen all the way across,’ Rudi said, ‘just as it was in the Fell Winter.’

Farry whistled. ‘I knew it was cold,’ he said, ‘but...’

 ‘Don’t know quite how cold,’ the Bolger said. ‘The quicksilver’s all the way down in the glass.’ He looked to the escort. ‘But you’re injured!’ he said.

Adelbrim eased his arm in the makeshift sling. ‘Could be worse,’ he said. ‘If it wasn’t for the Mistress and her fire-making...’

Goldi smiled. ‘You bought us time with your arrows,’ she said lightly.

 ‘Come now,’ Rudi said. ‘Let’s get you to Budge Hall, and warm. Cider’s already simmering on the stove, waiting for us.’

 ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Farry said.

***

Ferdibrand’s breaths came at longer intervals now, with pauses between.

 ‘I guess he should have stayed in the Shire,’ Pippin said regretfully. ‘If I’d asked him to stay, to keep an eye on Farry...’

 ‘We cannot know our end,’ Elessar said, sitting down beside the hobbit.

 ‘I do not understand,’ Ulrich said in his turn. ‘You said this wound is survivable. How can he be dying?’

Pippin regarded him thoughtfully. ‘In the old times,’ he said, ‘long ago, before the People made the crossing of the Misty Mountains into Eriador, it is said...’

 ‘Yes?’ Ulrich said to encourage him when he fell silent.

 ‘Hobbits mate for life, you know,’ Pippin said. ‘It is very seldom that they will marry again if a mate dies. Nell was an exception, marrying Ferdi after her Rudivacar died, but then, she and Ferdi had loved each other from childhood.’

 ‘Why did they not marry?’ Ulrich said.

 ‘It is a long story,’ Pippin sighed. ‘Suffice it to say, they were each other’s match, always meant to complete one another. When your mate dies, you are left half a hobbit. In the old days, it is said that hobbits turned away from food and drink when their mate died, preferring to follow on the dark road rather than live on only “half”.’ He looked to Elessar. ‘Frodo was only half, afterwards, wasn’t he? It is why he had to seek healing in the West.’

Ulrich did not follow this cryptic comment, but the King was nodding.

Turning back to the ruffian, Pippin said, ‘Though now, hobbits often live years after a mate dies, it is not always the case. Nell is Ferdi’s match. Without her...’

 ‘But he doesn’t know she’s dead,’ Ulrich said.

Elessar merely shook his head with a sorrowful expression.

Freddy finished telling a story of Ferdibrand and a certain wager, and then his son Frodovar lifted his voice in song, a lovely old ballad that Ulrich had heard the hobbits sing on the long march from Dindale to Minas Tirith.

A lilting soprano joined his, and the other hobbits who’d begun to sing fell silent once more to hear the two voices blending in flawless harmony. Diamond sat down on Pippin’s other side and nestled close. ‘Are you thinking...’ she said softly.

Pippin looked from Frodovar to Forget-me-not, who was singing with her eyes closed and tears on her face, but singing her best for the sake of her beloved Uncle Ferdibrand. ‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ he admitted.

 ‘But she’s so young!’ Diamond protested.

He took his hand from Ferdi’s to pat her hand gently. ‘You weren’t much older when I first saw you,’ he said. ‘They’ve been thrown together much, since we met the hobbits of Ithilien at Dindale. Ferdi was commenting just the other day...’

 ‘Ferdi and his matchmaking!’ Diamond whispered in exasperation. She bent down to whisper in the ear of the silent hobbit. ‘It’s your duty to dance at their wedding, you know,’ she said.

Pippin overheard. ‘Now who’s thinking?’ he asked, though his heart was full. He shook his head. ‘It seems fitting somehow. As one life ends, we can take comfort in the promise of new life.’

As the song ended there was a stir in the doorway, and sudden joyous cries from Nell and Ferdi’s children. A grizzled guardsman, breathing hard, gently placed Pimpernel on the bed beside Ferdibrand. ‘We came as quick as we could, my lord,’ he said to Elessar.

Nell took Ferdi’s face between her two hands. ‘I’m here, my love,’ she said.

 ‘Did he hurt you?’ Elessar said, touching her shoulder.

 ‘He let me go,’ Nell said. ‘I don’t quite understand why. He meant to harm me, but he didn’t.’ Turning back to her husband, she said again, ‘I’m here.’

The slow breaths continued, with pauses between. Nell said in desperation, ‘You don’t have my leave to go, Ferdibrand Took! Do you hear me?’ She descended on him, finding his lips and kissing him thoroughly, trying somehow to win through. The sergeant had told her that the King’s athelas hadn’t worked... What if nothing could call Ferdi back? She couldn’t feel him breathing.

Then, suddenly, another breath ghosted from his nostrils, and she felt his arms close over her in a feeble embrace. She ended the kiss and laid her cheek against his, whispering his name.

 ‘Nell,’ he murmured. ‘My Nell.’

 ‘Yes, my love,’ she said. ‘I’m here.’

 ‘I thought,’ he whispered, and a tear escaped from under the lid of one eye. ‘I thought he...’

 ‘He didn’t,’ she said fiercely. ‘Now look at me!’

 ‘What if...?’ Ferdi said, and Nell remembered how, a dozen years before, he’d wakened in darkness and lived with blindness afterwards, until of a wonder his sight returned, somehow healed over time.

 ‘Look at me,’ she whispered, and his eyes opened. Her heart sank as he stared blankly for a few seconds, and then he blinked and she knew that he saw her.

 ‘Nell, he whispered, and his arms tightened about her. ‘My Nell. You’re safe.’

 ‘I am,’ she said from the circle of his embrace.

Ulrich looked on with mingled joy and pain. He rejoiced to see his newfound friend restored, and to see Nell unhurt by the madman who’d shadowed their steps from Rohan. Now he met Bergil’s eye. ‘I’m ready,’ he said, rising.

The guardsman nodded, rising himself, taking Ulrich’s arm to escort him back to the dungeon.

 ‘Where are you going?’ Cuillon said in surprise.

 ‘Back,’ Ulrich said. He didn’t want to mention chains or hanging or dungeons and dampen the atmosphere of celebration. He had seen yet another dawn, and it ought to be enough.

Cuillon accompanied Ulrich and Bergil to the hallway, but stopped them outside the door. ‘He asked the jurors for permission to walk the last road with you, and stand beside you at the end,’ he said. ‘He’s in no condition to take that walk. I doubt if he’ll be able to stand, either, at tomorrow’s dawning.’

Elessar and Pippin had joined them while the head healer was speaking.

 ‘It would probably be better so,’ Ulrich said.

 ‘You don’t understand,’ Cuillon insisted. ‘We granted him permission. We cannot rescind our decision. It is already written in the record.’

At Ulrich’s uncomprehending look, he said, ‘You have been faithful to sit beside him through these dark hours. I would not slow his recovery by taking you away now. It would not do you any good to sit in the dark dungeon, awaiting his recovery, and it certainly won’t do him any harm to have you beside him, since he seems to have taken a fancy to your friendship.’

 ‘I don’t know why,’ Ulrich said.

 ‘Hobbits are a curious folk,’ Elessar said, with a smile at Pippin. ‘When they decide to convey their friendship, they remain fiercely loyal.’

 ‘The end will not come until Ferdi’s recovered?’ Pippin said slowly. ‘This may be the slowest recovery in the history of the Tooks!’

 ‘Are you saying that he would delay his recovery, falsely claim weakness, to draw out Reinadan’s time?’ Cuillon said sternly.

Pippin laughed. ‘Quite the opposite,’ he said. ‘He will be a model patient, cooperating with the healers and staying abed just as long as they order him to.’ He looked the head healer straight in the eye. ‘Usually, we Tooks begin badgering our healers to let us up out of bed days before they think it appropriate.’

 ‘Why does that not surprise me?’ Cuillon said. He shook his head, exchanging glances with Elessar. The King was nodding, a wry expression on his face. ‘Very well,’ the head healer said. ‘Go on back in there. There will be no hanging until Ferdibrand is recovered enough to keep his word.’

 ‘Thank you,’ Ulrich said humbly. He turned back into the room, to be greeted with cheers and the rising of a new song.