Chapter 61. Dark Days

On the day Healer Robin had decreed that the Master might leave his bed, the healer came early to the room where Merry slept, for a last examination. He half expected to find the bed empty already, the Master gone, busy about his duties, having put the hated bed and enforced rest behind him. Imagine his surprise at opening the door, to find the bed still occupied, Master evidently still deeply asleep, back turned to the door.

'Master?' he said tentatively, walking to the bedside. Putting his hand out, he could feel the furnace heat from the body even before he touched it. 'Master Meriadoc?' he said, his hand on the hot shoulder.

Merry turned slowly, glazed eyes coming half open to stare at him.

'I came to see if you were ready to get up,' the healer said stupidly.

'I'm tired,' Merry murmured. 'I think I'll sleep just a little longer.' His eyes closed and he rolled away again.

High fever. Even the hand that had stayed stubbornly cool despite the long rest was now hot to the touch. Robin turned quickly, jerked open the door, hailed a passing servant. 'Send Pansy Brandybuck to me here at once,' he said brusquely. The servant nodded, leaving his current errand to do the healer's bidding.

As he waited for Pansy to arrive, Robin made a quick examination. Rapid pulse, fast breathing, of course; eyes sensitive to light. Still responsive to voice, able to answer questions; complaining of a headache, well, that was probably due to the fever anyhow. Swollen glands, body fighting infection. Tired, wanting to sleep, that was all to the good.

A tap at the door and Pansy was there. He greeted her with relief; she was one of the best watchers in the Hall.

'The Master seems to have come down with a fever,' he said, striving for calm. 'It's to be expected, he is weakened from the worry of the past months. I'm afraid he'll need to stay abed awhile longer, and he'll be wanting watchers.' She nodded, taking a seat by the bed and placing her hand on one of Merry's hot ones.

'I'll send someone to you... whom do you prefer?' Robin asked.

Without looking up from her cousin's face, Pansy answered, 'Primrose would be fine. I believe she's working in the kitchen today, helping to plan menus.'

'Very well. I will send her to you; the two of you can take the first watch. I'll bring cloths and cool water, as well, but let the fever do its work. Don't sponge him unless he gets restless, or complains more of his head. If he does start to complain or thrash about, fetch me. O, and keep him drinking.'

Pansy nodded as she catalogued his instructions, already familiar with the procedure for watching with a fevered patient, but no harm in going over it again. 'We'll be fine,' she said. 'Would you tell my husband that I'm busy? He'll probably be in the Master's study with Berilac and Doderic by now, they were to discuss the water shortage.' The healer nodded in his own turn and left the room.

He found Merimas in the study as his wife had indicated, though the other two had not yet arrived. He informed Merimas of the situation, concluding, 'Tell Berilac and Doderic that everything is fine for the moment, it means the Master will have a bit more rest than he otherwise would have tolerated. We need to keep the Mistress away, however. I do not want her exposed to this fever.'

'Right,' Merimas said. 'Tell Pansy I'll make sure the children are looked after whilst she's occupied.'

'It could be several days,' the healer warned. 'She won't want to expose your children to the fever until it has run its course. She'll probably sleep in the other room when she's not on watch.'

'Of course,' Merimas said. 'What's the matter with you, Robin? You act as if we've never dealt with a fever before.'

Robin let that pass, not willing to admit the worry he was feeling. 'Just keep Estella away,' he said, and left the study.

Fever swept through the population of Brandy Hall despite the healer's precautions, and the rest of Buckland as well, swift-moving, undiscriminating, mowing down hobbits even as they worked at their tasks. One hobbit farmer felt as if his plow ponies had suddenly kicked him in the head; he fell to his knees, calling to his eldest son. When no answer came, he painfully turned his head to see the lad lying in the dust behind him. The farmer managed to crawl to his son, urge him up, and each supporting the other, they staggered to the ponies, unhitched them from the plow, somehow managed to crawl upon their backs, and rode to the farmhouse, to be greeted with alarm by the farmer's wife and daughters. They were put immediately to bed, and cared for until the next day, when the rest of the household was stricken. The farmer's wife, fighting headache and malaise, bedded her family down together on blankets on the kitchen floor, a half bucket of water and dipper within reach. She wondered what they would do when the water was all drunk up. This scene was repeated all through Buckland.

***

Healer Robin opened his eyes to see a pale and shaky Pansy Brandybuck sitting by his side. 'I thought I ordered you to bed,' he whispered.

She gave him a ghost of her usual smile. 'That was four days ago,' she said. She wrung out a cloth in cool water and placed it on his forehead. 'You fell ill the day after.'

'How long?' he asked.

'The fever seems to run its course in three days or so. You ought to be able to get up tomorrow, or even today if you're careful. You'll find yourself weak as a kitten.'

'How many?' the healer asked.

'The whole Hall, none's been spared. The fever has swept through Buckland like a scythe to the harvest,' Pansy answered.

'The Mistress?' he gasped.

She nodded, 'Yes, Estella, too. We've kept her fever down with tepid baths, though she protested the waste of water. She's recovering nicely, and has shown no other problems.' There had been no threat of losing the unborn babe, not yet, anyhow, and Pansy was hopeful, for Estella had carried this one longer than all except the son she'd birthed.

'How about the Master? He was one of the first ones stricken.' Pansy didn't answer, and Robin tried to sit up in his alarm, stopped by the stabbing pain in his head.

'Stay down,' she soothed. 'It seems you're not quite ready to get up yet.'

He grumbled, but surrendered, for the moment.

 
She pulled the cloth away from his forehead, felt it, said, 'It looks as if you don't need this any longer. You're not warming up the cloths the way you were. I think your temperature's staying down.' She went on. 'We've turned the great room into an infirmary of sorts; moved the tables out and packed hobbits in on the floor. You can hardly move without stepping on someone, but it's allowing a very few to take care of a great many.'

'Good thinking,' he said. 'Now tell me about the Master.'

She hesitated, then said, 'His fever broke yesterday.'

'So he's up? First thing, I'd expect.'

Pansy shook her head. 'You'd expect that... but he just lies there. He doesn't move or talk, and his hand is as cold as ice. We don't know what to do.'

'Has anyone sent for the Thain?'

She shook her head. 'No one's well enough. And what if we were to spread the fever to the rest of the Shire? Berilac gave orders to lock the North Gate to keep people from going in and out, as soon as it was apparent that more were falling ill than just Merry and Primrose and myself.'

Robin sighed. 'You're right,' he said. 'I would have given the same orders myself.' He struggled upright, the head pain not so bad. 'Get me something to drink,' he said, 'then help me up. There's work to be done.'

***

As soon as he was able to leave his bed, the Thain checked on his family, then the steward and chancellor, then made a sweep through the Smials to find all who had weathered the fever. Once he had collected all he could find of wan, staggering hobbits in the courtyard, he had a meal of sorts served while he gave the group their orders. A few were to stay in the Smials, tending the sick. Healer Woodruff had moved all the sick she could fit into the great room of the Smials, for the ones tending the sick were those who'd weathered the fever themselves; they were too weak to be traipsing from room to room, and there were not enough hobbits on their feet at the moment to put a watcher at every bedside.

The hobbits sat and munched their sandwiches in the morning sunshine while the Thain spoke. Most were to take ponies and ride throughout Tookland, checking each farmstead and rendering aid as needed. Some were to go house-to-house in Tuckborough with the same design. He sent messengers to the Mayor in Hobbiton and to Michel Delving, with the caution that they should not approach any other hobbit, but shout their news of the fever that had devastated Tookland.

Leaving a shaky Reginard in charge, he mounted his own pony; he would take the news to Buckland himself. Shout the news to the hobbit running the Ferry, ask after Merry, survey the parts of Tookland he'd pass through along the way.

Pippin had to stop at the Crowing Cockerel, only halfway to Bucklebury Ferry. The afternoon heat made his head swim, and he sought the darkened inn with relief. No meals were being served, of course, for the fever had swept the innkeeper's family and guests who'd been there at the time the illness struck, but the innkeeper's wife had managed some thin soup, and she shared it with the Thain. Pippin rested through the heat of the afternoon and early evening, setting out again when darkness fell.

He reached the Ferry to find no hobbits on duty, and none coming at his call. The Ferry was tied up on the Buckland side of the River, no use for it, but to ride to the Bridge, though he chafed at the extra miles.

Near dawn he crossed the Bridge and came to the North Gate of Buckland, only to find the gate locked tight, and no guards about. The door to the guardhouse on the outside of the gate was also shut and barred, the windows shuttered. Shouting brought no response. Now what was he to do? He fought down the uneasy feeling, trying to think how he could get over the gate in his weakened condition.

Hearing hoofbeats behind him, he turned to see a tall guardsman in livery of the King, who rode up to the gate and swung down.

'Bergil!' he said. 'Don't come any nearer!'

The other stopped. 'Pippin? What is going on? I came late yesterday to bring the King's message to the Shire, but could find none to receive it. I camped in the wood across the way and was preparing to ride back this morning, when I heard your shout.'

Pippin said, 'Something's badly wrong. We've pestilence in the Shire, Bergil.' He sighed, considering. 'You may have already been exposed to it, just being this close to me. I'm afraid you'll need to remain here a few days until we see if you come down with the fever; no use carrying it to spread throughout Bree and the King's party.'

Bergil walked up to him. 'Well, if I'm exposed already, then there's no use in shouting at each other. We might as well sit down and be comfortable, especially as you look as if you'll fall down at any moment.' He suited action to words and tied up his horse, then seated himself on the ground. 'Sit down, Pippin. You worry me.'

Pippin sat down, his back to the gate.

Bergil eyed him with concern. 'First famine, then pestilence?'

'Yes,' Pippin nodded. 'I'm beginning to wonder if hobbits have served their purpose and are no longer wanted in Middle-earth. Frodo threw the Ring in the Fire and departed over the Sea. Now it's time for the rest of the Shire to go.'

'Don't tell me you're about to go fall on your sword,' Bergil said.

Pippin shook his head. 'No, too messy, and besides, there's none here well enough to bury me.' He tried to shrug some of the ache from his shoulders. 'Unless you'd like to do the honours.'

'Couldn't I just throw you in the River? That would be a lot less work. I cannot see digging in all the heat we've had here lately.'

'And foul the water? Really, Bergil, what are they teaching guardsmen these days? You're to dispose of bodies properly after a battle, you know that.' Pippin hauled himself to his feet. 'I have got to get in there, find out what is happening in Buckland.' He looked at Bergil. 'Can you climb over the gate? I've done it before, but...'

Bergil stared back in astonishment. 'Climb over?' he said. 'What about the King's edict?'

Pippin smiled slightly. 'I won't tell anyone, if you don't.' He gestured. 'Come on, Bergil, 'twill be like old times, just up and over, release the bars, let me in, no one the wiser.'

'There could be fifty hobbits on the other side, waiting to have my hide,' the guardsman protested.

'I doubt it. They would have heard my shout,' the Thain said soberly.

Bergil took a deep breath. 'All right,' he said. Getting up, he untied his horse and led it to the gate, climbing up to stand on the saddle; from there it was easy enough to clamber over and drop on the other side. He released the bars and swung the heavy gate open. 'Not a soul in sight,' he said.

The door to the guardhouse on the Buckland side of the gate stood open, and Pippin motioned Bergil to follow him. As they approached the doorway, a hobbit with a Shirriff's hat crawled into sight.

'Stop there,' the Shirriff said weakly. 'No Men are allowed in the Shire, you ought to know that.'

Pippin reached him in another stride, he and Bergil lifted him to sit him against the wall of the guard house. 'And what are you going to do about it, Hob Hayward?' he asked.

'I'll call a group together to deal with him,' the other gasped.

'Deal with him how?' Pippin said, holding his own water bottle to the other's lips.

The Shirriff took a drink, then said, 'O, I dunno. Breathe on him, I suppose. Fever'll take him down faster than arrows, I think.' His eyes widened. 'You're not supposed to be here,' he said accusingly. 'The Steward ordered the North Gate barred. You'll spread the fever to the rest of the Shire.'

'Too late,' Pippin said. 'No use locking the stable doors, the ponies are all out already.'

'How bad is it?' Hob said.

'About as bad as Buckland, I'd imagine.' Pippin said. He straightened. 'I've got to get to the Hall. Bergil, can you care for the guards here? I'm sure they'll care for you as well, if the fever strikes you down in the next day or two.'

'That's a comfort,' Bergil said. He bent nearly double to fit through the door. 'How many of you are there?'

'Half a dozen,' Hob answered. 'We're all laid out on the floor together, as you can see.'

'When did you eat last?' Bergil asked.

Hob shook his head. 'I don't remember.'

'Right,' Bergil said. He ducked back out of the guardhouse. 'I have some dried meat and other travel rations in my pack,' he said. 'I'll make them a soup of sorts. You go on to the Hall, if you're well enough.'

Pippin nodded. 'I'm well enough. I'm on my feet, aren't I? That's more than most hobbits of the Shire can say at the moment.' Bergil helped him onto his pony, and he started down the road to Bucklebury and Brandy Hall.