Chapter 35. You Can Lead a Pony to Water

No longer hampered by Nell’s presence, Woodruff had tried every trick she knew to waken the slumbering hobbit. Even the most painful of stimuli had no effect. At last she sat back, pulling at her curls in distraction.

Buttercup soaked a cloth in water, wrung it out, and moistened Ferdi’s lips. ‘We could hold a cup to his lips, try to trickle some water in,’ she said, though she knew better.

 ‘And have him choke to death, like as not,’ Woodruff muttered.

 ‘What else are we to do?’ her assistant said. ‘You’ve tried every trick in the book, and some that aren’t in the book, even.’ 

 ‘If it were a book, he’d waken to Nell’s kiss,’ Woodruff said. She rubbed Ferdi’s arm absently. What she really wanted to do was to shake the hobbit awake, but shaking hadn’t had any effect, earlier. Ferdi never lost his dreaming smile, and his breathing continued deep and even.

At last she sighed and said, ‘The steward wants a report... I don’t know what to tell him.’

 ‘Hard, to tell him the draught that saved Ferdi will take his life in the end,’ Buttercup said, shaking her head. ‘Sleeping his life away...’

Woodruff rose abruptly from the bed. ‘He won’t last much longer if we cannot get any water into him,’ she said. ‘He’s already showing troubling signs.’ She looked down. ‘He’s not drooling, so he is swallowing his spittle,’ she said. ‘Trickle a tiny amount of water under his tongue,’ she said. ‘See if he’ll swallow and not choke.’

Buttercup dipped the cloth again. She eased Ferdi’s mouth open and allowed a small amount of water to drip into his mouth, then let the mouth close again.

Ferdi did not choke, and Woodruff nodded. ‘Foot by foot,’ she said. ‘A drop at a time, if need be.’

 ‘Will it be enough?’ Buttercup said. ‘And what about food?’

 ‘Food, he can live without for some days yet,’ Woodruff said. ‘Keep pegging away, and I’ll be back as soon as I’ve reported to Reginard.’

She glanced at the mirror over the dressing table and hastily smoothed her curls. How ever did they get stirred up so?

***

 ‘The draught is bringing him down to the grave?’ Reginard said in quiet consternation. ‘I thought you said it was healing him!’

He sat at the Thain’s desk, quill poised midair. He’d been writing a report for Hilly to carry to Pippin, to the effect that the planting was going well and Tookland was running smoothly. He’d hoped to add a note about Ferdibrand’s recovery, but...

 ‘A hobbit that doesn’t eat is soon no hobbit at all,’ Woodruff quoted quietly.

 ‘But I slept for two days and felt as if I’d missed but one meal,’ Hilly protested from the doorway. Reginard frowned absently; custom was that the escort stationed by the door was to be seen but not heard as he waited to take a message or admit a visitor.

 ‘Perhaps,’ Woodruff said, ‘but Fennel said you were thirsty when you wakened, if not hungered. Three days without water, four at the outside, and...’

Regi nodded soberly. ‘There’s naught to be done?’ he said. ‘You cannot simply pour the water in, that he may swallow?’

 ‘He’d choke,’ Woodruff said. ‘We were able to trickle a tiny amount under his tongue, but as to whether it’s enough to sustain him...’

 ‘Pony draught,’ Hilly muttered.

Regi was ready to rebuke him but Woodruff turned.

 ‘What was that, Hilly?’ she said.

 ‘We pour draughts down the throats of ponies without them choking,’ he said. ‘Why not the same for Ferdibrand.’

Woodruff held up a hand to arrest Reginard’s comment. She’d seen a stable hand giving a draught once, had paused to watch the process and asked a few questions. Now excitement stirred within her. ‘A pony draught,’ she said slowly. ‘Hilly, can you bring a tube from the stables?’

Without waiting for Regi’s dismissal, Hilly was off.

 ‘Pony draught?’ Regi said, raising an eyebrow.

 ‘I’m that desperate,’ Woodruff said. ‘If I can stuff a tube down his throat and pour water in without drowning him, I’ll do it!’

It was not long before Hilly returned, smooth leather tube with its funnel-like top clutched in his hand. He’d gone all the way and back at a run, breaking another Great Smials custom, but at the moment he wasn’t thinking about etiquette and propriety.

 ‘It’s clean,’ he panted. ‘Old Tom always checks to make sure they’re well-scrubbed before being put up.’

 ‘You’re going to jam that into Ferdi’s throat?’ Regi said, flabbergasted.

 ‘He often jests about being half a pony himself,’ Hilly said.

 ‘It’s worth a try,’ Woodruff said. ‘We don’t know how much longer he’ll sleep, and he must have water soon. May I have Hilly for a helper?’ Turning to the escort, she added, ‘I take it you know how to use this contraption.’

 ‘Just jam it down his cake-hole,’ Hilly said, ‘and listen to make sure you don’t hear breath whistling up the tube is all.’

 ‘Yes, I’d imagine pouring water direct into his pipes would finish him quickly,’ Woodruff said dryly. ‘Come along, Hildibold.’

Nell, of course, was still blessedly absent. Woodruff rather hoped she was still soaking in the bath; she’d given orders that fresh, hot water was to be added at frequent intervals to keep the bath warm and relaxing for as long as possible. She wouldn’t put it past Pimpernel to check on her husband after leaving the bath, on her way to take a meal with the children, and she certainly didn’t want Ferdi’s wife to walk in on what would certainly resemble heinous torture.

Buttercup’s eyes widened when she saw the device in Woodruff’s hand. ‘What in the world...?’ she said.

 ‘It’s for giving pony draughts,’ Hilly explained.

 ‘He’s already had more draughts than is good for him, I think,’ Buttercup said, ‘and what makes you think a pony draught will do him any good?’

 ‘We’re going to pour water down and see if he keeps it,’ Woodruff explained. ‘If that works, we’ll try broth next.’

It was a bit tricky, manoeuvring the tube into place, but with Hilly’s help—he was indeed familiar with pony draughts—Woodruff finally had things set to her satisfaction.

 ‘What do I do now?’ Buttercup said.

 ‘Pour water down the tube and hold your breath,’ Woodruff said.

Buttercup nodded, picked up the water jug, and hovered it over the funnel.

 ‘Slowly,’ Woodruff cautioned.

Buttercup nodded again, nervously, and poured a mouthful while Woodruff and Hilly watched closely. All seemed to be going smoothly. ‘A little more,’ Woodruff whispered, and Buttercup complied. When she’d poured as much as a hobbit might drink from a mug or perhaps two, Woodruff held up her hand to stop. ‘That’s enough for now,’ she said. ‘We don’t want to founder him.’

Carefully she eased the tube from Ferdi’s throat, and his mouth closed once more, peaceful smile still in place.

 ‘Lovely draught,’ Woodruff murmured. ‘I can think of a few grumbly Tooks I’d like to dose.’

Woodruff handed the tube to Hilly. ‘Make sure this gets a good washing out,’ she said, ‘and bring it back. We’ll try some broth in an hour or so, if the water does him no harm.’

 ‘Hilly?’ Nell said from behind them. ‘Tolly said you and Posey were to be off today.’

 ‘I was just waiting for Regi to finish his report to the Thain,’ Hilly said, ‘but I’d really like to linger until Ferdibrand wakens.’

 ‘Did my brother order you to make haste?’ Pimpernel asked.

 ‘Nay, he told me not to rush my wife’s packing,’ Hilly said. ‘He seemed to think Posey might forget something if I harried her, and hold me to blame.’

Pimpernel laughed softly. ‘He’s learnt his lesson from Diamond,’ she said. ‘He knows that the more he harries her, the more she remembers she forgot.’ She bent to kiss her husband’s cheek. ‘He looks better, somehow,’ she said. ‘What a wondrous thing that healing draught is!’

 ‘It certainly is,’ Woodruff agreed.

Pimpernel had caught sight of the tube, from her puzzled expression. ‘Hilly?’ she said.

Hilly cleared his throat. ‘I was just on my way to give a draught to a pony,’ he said hastily, ‘and stopped in to see how Ferdi’s coming along.’

 ‘Ah,’ Nell said brightly. She caressed her husband’s cheek. ‘Dream well,’ she whispered.

 ‘He is dreaming well, to all appearances,’ Woodruff said. She took Pimpernel’s arm and turned her away from the bed. ‘Rosamunda ought to have the table laid by now,’ she said, ‘and I’ll send Buttercup to fetch you if Ferdi shows any signs of wakening, though I doubt it’ll be this day...’

Pimpernel hesitated in the doorway, turning back for another look at Ferdi. ‘When will he waken?’ she said wistfully.

 ‘When the draught has done its healing work,’ Woodruff said. ‘There’s no way of knowing when, of course, but from all signs he’ll be well and hale when he does waken.’

 ‘I’m so glad,’ Nell said simply.

 ‘Go on, my dear,’ Woodruff said with a little push. ‘Let your children be glad as well.’