Chapter 40. Miracles

Berilac became gradually aware of a pleasant baritone voice humming an old song. It sounded vaguely familiar, but of course, it couldn't be... He lay awhile longer, listening in silence, trying to figure out whose the voice could be. Finally he felt awake enough to open his eyes, to see...

'Pippin!'

'Aye,' the singer smiled, breaking off the song.

'How can you be...? You're supposed to be dead!'

The Thain's smile brightened. 'Am I now?' he asked.

'That's what I'd heard,' Berilac muttered, confused.

Pippin nodded. 'Ah, they forgot to tell me.' He stretched. 'Happens all the time. Who told you that?'

Berilac thought back through the fog of the past few days. 'I don't know,' he said, finally. 'Someone sitting with me, must have been. I was asking where Merry was, and they said he'd be back after your burial.'

'He'll be away a long time, then, I hope,' Pippin said cheerily. '...and how are you feeling, this fine day?'

'Fine, is it?' Berilac said grumpily. 'How do you think I'm feeling?'

'About the same as you look, I'd imagine. You want to take a firm hand when you go dancing with a bull, or he'll trample all over you.'

'What would you know about it?' Berilac said irritably.

Pippin grinned. 'Ah, I had a dance with a troll once. Terrible fellow, no sense of rhythm at all. A bit like a bull, I'd imagine.'

Berilac closed his eyes and sighed. About the last thing he wanted right now was Pippin's relentless cheer.

'So when's the burial?' he muttered.

'No burials today... someone's misplaced all the shovels.'

Berilac took a deep breath. 'That's a mercy... I think.' The ache in his bones reminded him why he hadn't wanted to waken in the first place.

'Do you think you could eat something?' Pippin said softly.

'Hah! That's a joke, coming from you.' Berilac answered.

Pippin chuckled. 'It is, indeed.' Berilac opened his eyes, and Pippin lifted him carefully, placing pillows at his back to prop him up enough to eat.

'Good thing your eating hand was spared,' the Thain said, 'but save your strength for healing. Let me do the honours.'

'I hope it's not broth,' Berilac said. 'I'm sick of it.'

'Are you now?' Pippin said brightly. 'I can imagine.' He patted the other on his good shoulder. 'I'll see what I can do.'

He was gone some little while, coming back finally with a steaming bowl of hearty stew and some crusty bread. 'Will this do?' he asked.

Berilac's mouth was watering at the smell. 'For starters,' he answered. Pippin spooned the stew into him, with the occasional chunk of bread, making quiet conversation.

When he'd finished it all, he sighed. 'That was good,' he said. 'Much better than broth.'

Pippin reached to the table by the bed to pick up a half glass of brandy. 'Here's a little after-dinner cheer.'

Berilac shook his head. 'I don't want it,' he said. 'It's got that powder in it, hasn't it?'

'Yes,' Pippin said. 'You've got to be feeling rather rotten at the moment.'

'It muddles my head too much,' Berilac said.

Pippin smiled. 'I'd take it, if I were you,' he urged softly. 'I heard the healers talking; they're going to cut you off soon enough, before you start wanting the stuff. Might as well sleep while you may, get as much healing in as you can.'

Berilac hesitated, and Pippin pressed his argument. 'Besides, if you leave a glass of the Hall's finest lying about, somebody might come along and drink it, someone from Tookland, for example, who doesn't get it every day, and that powder wouldn't be good for him, you know.'

Berilac smiled in spite of himself. 'Go on with you,' he said. 'Ridiculous as you ever were.'

'Thanks. Nicest thing anybody's said to me all day.' Pippin steadied the glass while he got the brandy down, then settled him back as comfortably as he could to wait for sleep to come.

Berilac was starting to drift away, but forced one eye open.

'You really are well,' he said suddenly. 'What's happened to you?'

Pippin smiled, his eyes reflecting Berilac's wonder. 'I had my own little miracle,' he said softly.