Chapter 63. All the King's Horses and All the King's Men

The lad had come from a farmstead very near the North Gate. The guardsmen swung down from their horses, and soon the sergeant had one hauling water from the well, two others tending the lowing cows, another checking the other buildings while he ducked through the low door to the farmhouse, carrying the lad. He found the hobbits together on the kitchen floor, an empty bucket and dipper nearby, a young hobbit lass moaning for water. As the water-hauling guardsman handed the brimming bucket through the doorway, the sergeant put the lad down, took up the dipper, lifted the lass gently, and coaxed her to drink. She drank deeply and sighed. He laid her gently down and moved around to give water to each of the other hobbits.

He found some loaves of stale bread in the pantry, and when one of his men brought two buckets of milk to the house, he broke up the bread and set the pieces to soak in a large (by hobbit standards) bowl of still-warm milk, then he and the other guardsman fed the mixture to the hobbits, the sergeant feeling all the while as if he were playing at dolls. The farmer wakened slightly, eyes widening to see Men in his house. 'Ruffians,' he gasped.

'No, Sir, we are King's messengers, sent by the King to aid you,' the sergeant said. It wasn't exactly true, but it seemed to calm the farmer and that was what was most important. Besides, he was sure the King would have sent aid, had he known the situation here.

'The animals are fed and cared for, Sergeant,' one of the guardsmen ducked to say through the door. 'What shall we do next?'

They were already in for it, might as well keep on the way they'd started. 'We'll go on to the next farm,' the sergeant answered, 'and keep going, as long as we find folk needing our help. Mount up, I'll be right there.'

They worked their way from farm to farm. When they came to the split in the road, one branch going off towards Newbury and the other towards Bucklebury and Brandy Hall, the sergeant divided his men so that a group could follow each branch. They hadn't found any dead, yet, but some of the hobbits were poorly enough that the grizzled old guardsman felt compelled to continue his self-imposed mission until either this mysterious fever, or the King's wrath, felled him, whichever came first.

Pippin, on his way back to the North Gate, did not did not notice the tall horses tethered in one of the farmsteads he passed. He found Bergil leaning against one side of the guardhouse doorway, his hand dwarfing a glass of brandy which he sipped appreciatively. Hob Hayward was propped against the wall on the other side of the doorway with his own glass.

'You know, Thain, Men aren't so bad once you get used to them,' Hob said conversationally as the Thain slid down from his pony.

'How much brandy have you had?' Pippin said sternly.

Bergil laughed. 'Not that much,' he answered. 'I think the fever gives it more effect.'

'I'm drunk as a Brandybuck,' Hob said solemnly. 'It's the best I've felt in days.'

'Did you see the other guardsmen?' Bergil asked Pippin.

'What other guardsmen?' Pippin said in answer. 'Just how many Men have broken the King's edict besides yourself?'

'A few,' Bergil said evasively. 'A lad rode up to beg our aid, and how could we ignore him? Besides, you already invited me in, and...'

'I invited you in, not half the Men in Middle-earth!'

'O it's not that many,' Bergil said easily. 'Not quite, anyhow.'

Shaking his head in exasperation, Pippin said, 'I've got to get a message to King Elessar. I hate to send you to Bree and break quarantine, but perhaps you can shout a message without coming close to anyone.'

'I can do better than that,' Bergil answered. 'There's already a messenger on the way to Bree, and I imagine the King will make haste to come.' He caught Pippin as he sagged in relief and eased him down next to the Shirriff. 'You're not well,' he said worriedly. 'Let me get you some brandy.'

Pippin did not protest, and sipped at the glass that Bergil pressed into his hand. 'How soon do you expect the King?' he asked.

'Mid-afternoon at the earliest,' Bergil said. 'The messenger went off at a good pace early this morning.'

Pippin nodded, putting down his glass half-finished, resting his head on his knees. 'I think I'll take a little nap,' he said faintly. 'Waken me when he comes...'

***

Bergil had coaxed water into the sick hobbits twice more when he heard the sound of horses. Thinking Terlon had returned, he came out of the guardhouse, only to be confronted by a large group of horsemen halted just outside the gateway. Just then, Pippin stirred and called his name. He crouched.

'Bergil, just what was the message you brought us?' the Thain murmured. 'I forgot to ask, earlier.'

'The King sent this messenger*...' said a stern voice, 'to tell you that waggons of food are on the way from Rohan and will be here in less than a month.' Bergil looked up to see King Elessar himself standing in the gateway, glaring. 'But what good is a message if it is not delivered?'

'I'm sorry, Sir,' Bergil said humbly. He wondered what the punishment was for an unfaithful messenger, expulsion from the guard? or merely a flogging? And would the flogging come before, or after he was put to the sword for violating the King's edict?

'And why are you standing on the wrong side of the gateway?' the King asked, his voice ominously soft.

'O that's my fault, Strider,' Pippin said weakly. 'I needed a bit of help, and he was the only one handy at the time.' He started to slide sideways, and Bergil caught him and eased him to the ground. King Elessar strode through the gateway at once, to crouch by the Thain. Pippin opened his eyes again and said, 'Glad you're here, Elessar, I need to ask you to break your own edict...'

'Seems as if I already have,' the King answered wryly.

'It's Merry,' Pippin said. 'The old trouble's come back, and with the famine and the fever I'm afraid we're losing the battle this time.' He took a deep breath, fighting dizziness, and said, 'You didn't happen to bring any athelas with you?'

'The old trouble?' the King asked, puzzled.

'O you know, Strider,' Pippin said, irritated. 'The Black Shadow, of course. He fights it every March, but it's always dogged his steps, you told him yourself he'd have to be careful... or was it Frodo who told him that?' He shook his head. 'If things would just stop spinning I might be able to sort out my thoughts...'

'He's feverish,' Bergil said. 'He said he was over it, but he might have tried to do too much too soon.'

'Where is Merry?' the King asked.

'Brandy Hall,' Pippin answered. 'I'll take you there.' He tried to rise and staggered.

The King caught him and lifted him up. 'I think I will be the one to take you there,' he said. 'You just tell me where we're going.' He raised his voice to address the guardsmen. 'The rest of you stay here and guard the gate. Send my horse and Bergil's through the gateway.'

The King mounted, holding Pippin, and Bergil swung into his own saddle. 'Down this road, I assume,' Elessar said.

'O aye,' Pippin breathed. 'Take the right fork when you come to it, and as you ride through Bucklebury you will turn off the road to the right to get to Brandy Hall. Just in case I don't happen to be with you when you reach that point,' he added, putting a hand to his aching head.

'We'll do our best not to get lost,' the King said. Their horses surged down the road in the afternoon heat, as fast as the riders dared to push them.