Chapter 66. A Dose of Reality

When Merry opened his eyes and spoke, Estella gasped and tightened her embrace fiercely, burying her head in his chest, weeping in relief. Merry patted her back, murmured soothingly, and when the storm seemed to be passing, he looked up and around the room. 'Hullo, Strider,' he said. 'Whatever are you doing here? I thought you and Pippin were at Lake Evendim. Did you come for the pony races?'

Estella released him with a gasp, pulling back to stare into his face. The King took her by the arm, saying, 'I think we need to find something for your husband to eat, my dear. He must be hungry.'

'Starving,' Merry amended.

'Then we'll be right back,' Elessar said, firmly guiding the Mistress from the room.

Merry turned to the other staring hobbits. 'What is the matter?' He asked. 'Why is everyone looking so? And what is the King doing here? I thought he'd issued an edict...'

'Merry,' Berilac broke in quietly. 'The pony races were a fortnight ago.'

'You jest,' Merry said. He looked to Pippin for confirmation, and his eyes narrowed. 'You look terrible, cousin. Are you sickening again?' Looking back to Berilac, he added. 'You don't look so well, yourself. Am I the only one here who's fit?'

'He's not jesting,' Pippin said. 'What is the last thing you remember, Merry?'

The Master bit back a protest at their serious faces, paused to consider. 'We were in the middle of harvest,' he said. 'I mean, we are in the middle of harvest, and the pony races are next week. We moved them from the First to the Twenty-second so that you could attend when you returned from the Lake... but here you are already!'

'You've lost three weeks, then,' Berilac said, shaken.

'Three weeks?' Merry echoed. His steward nodded.

'You've been very ill, Merry, for some days. You collapsed at the late supper after the pony races, you don't remember that?' Pippin said. Merry shook his head slowly. 'You were in bed for a week after, and since then, you've had a fever. We weren't sure you would ever waken again.'

'...and that is why the King is here?' Merry said.

Pippin nodded. 'Partly.' He wasn't sure how much to tell his cousin at the moment, but Berilac had no such compunction.

'Merry,' he began. 'We're in a bind.'

'Tell me about it. I've been little enough help, if I've been sleeping the past three weeks or so.'

'You worked yourself into the ground, Merry, and even after you collapsed, you kept working from your bed,' Berilac contradicted. 'You may not remember it, but you have done a great deal.'

'So what is the bind we're in?' Merry asked. Taking turns, the Thain and the Steward of Buckland filled him in on the crop failure, the wells going dry, the threatened famine which was becoming reality with each passing day, and now the fever that had swept not just Buckland, but perhaps the whole Shire.

'But the fever might have been a mercy in disguise,' Pippin concluded. 'Everyone's been too sick to eat much, the past week, so we have used hardly any of our stores.'

'And the King has broken his own ban,' Merry mused.

'Issued a new edict, rather,' Pippin corrected, 'for the duration of the emergency. He trusts his guardsmen to help and not do harm, but you know as well as I do, cousin, that we cannot count on the goodness of Men in general.'

Merry nodded.

Just then the King ducked into the room, bearing his tray. 'Drinks all round!' he cried cheerily, and began to pour out mugs of beef tea and hand them to the hobbits.

'A fine brew,' Pippin said solemnly, sipping at his mug. 'Lovely, nearly as good as the beer at the Green Dragon. Got some body to it.' He turned his eye on the King. 'So, Strider,' he said soberly, 'Just how many Men have you loosed upon the Shire?'

'About a hundred,' the King answered quietly. 'Not nearly enough, from what I've seen, but all that could be mustered.'

'And will we have to feed them?' the Thain continued.

Elessar shook his head. 'No, they carry their own rations with them, Pippin.'

'Ah, good,' Pippin sighed. 'I'm not sure how we're to feed ourselves over the next weeks.'

'We still have flocks and herds,' Berilac said. 'And there's always mud pies. They were edible enough when we were little.'

'No,' Merry said. 'We probably don't have the water to spare, even though there's dust a-plenty.'

'Ah, well,' Pippin said. 'I've eaten enough dust and ashes to last a lifetime, but I could manage a few more mouthfuls, I think. How long did you say before those waggons are due, Strider?'

'Less than a month,' the King answered, shaken by the hobbits' nonchalant attitude, but then, they'd always been folk more likely to make a joke than bemoan a situation. 'That is,' he added, 'if the rains hold off and the roads stay dry.'

'Ah,' Pippin said. 'Well we'll just have to put off hoping for rain a bit longer. It's been so long since we've had a good rain, I've about forgot what the stuff is. Water from the sky, I hear tell?'

'So they say,' Berilac said, finishing his beef tea. 'Any more where that came from?' The King filled his mug again, and he nodded his thanks. 'Stuff's nearly as good as the Hall's finest,' he said. 'I feel almost as if I could get up and walk.'

'Don't forget your sticks,' Pippin said out of the corner of his mouth.

'You mean this stuff won't cure broken legs?'

'Probably not,' the Thain said. 'But it might strengthen young hobbits enough to carry you about again.'

'Well, then, what do I need sticks for?' Berilac said equably. 'You just get Doderas and Elberic back on their feet, and I'll be fine, at least until I figure out how to make these legs work properly again.'

'May I?' the King asked, bending down to the Steward.

'Go ahead,' Berilac said. 'Too many cooks spoil the broth, but I haven't heard anything about too many healers yet.'

Pippin said darkly, 'O, I can think of lots of things to say about too many healers...' he glanced at the King, 'but in present company, I think I shall keep them to myself.'

Berilac found the King's hands unnervingly large, but surprisingly gentle as they went carefully over his legs. 'You were trampled by a bull, Pippin said?'

Berilac nodded. 'Yes, that's right.'

The King straightened up and sat back on his heels. 'Your healer did a fine job of putting you back together,' he said soberly. 'I think you'll walk again one of these days. But don't be in a hurry.'

Berilac grinned. 'Working for Merry has taught me cartloads of patience.'

'Hoi!' Merry protested.

His steward looked at him calmly. 'Drink your beef tea,' he said. 'I'm one mug ahead of you already.'