Chapter 25. Twice Shy

Ted arrived home from yet another journey for the Thain just as Paddy Grubb brought the weeping Beryl to the door. While his head was still spinning from the news, his father sent him to borrow waggon and ponies, and then he joined the bustle of brothers and sisters bringing cushions and bedding out to pad the waggon.

 ‘And we need to have a bed ready...’ his mother was saying.

 ‘Give him mine,’ Ted said quickly. ‘It’s close to the kitchen, and I can share with Tal and Thom.’ He’d earned a room of his own, when he started drawing wages. It would be easier to put Mardi in his bed, than displacing two or more others. Sweetie certainly couldn’t put Mardi up—it wouldn’t be proper. And there was no question of the injured hobbit sleeping at the livery so long as he needed tending. Ted wondered yet again what “bad burns” meant, though from Paddy’s description of the accident it seemed Mardi would surely lose the use of his hands. He only hoped it would be a temporary loss.

At last he helped Rosemary and Beryl onto the waggon seat next to his father, and jumped into the waggon bed with Paddy, and they were off at a smart pace. Even through the cushioning bedding he could feel the jolt, every time a wheel went over a stone. Perhaps it would be better for Mardi to stay at the Grubbs’ for a time, until the burns were healed somewhat... but no. Sweetie would want him under her eye.

They met the hobbits coming from Whittacres to fetch Rosemary; she leapt lightly down from the waggon and hopped up to ride behind her father.

 ‘Burns, the children said,’ Ferdinand Took called. ‘Is there aught the Grubbses be needing?’

 ‘ ‘Twasn’t a fire, but a kitchen accident,’ Paddy called back. ‘But we thank you kindly!’

 ‘Get up, there!’ Tru called to the ponies, and the waggon jerked into motion once more. ‘Nearly there, Beryl-love,’ he said, looking down at his daughter, who had wiped away her tears and stared ahead with her face pale and set.

Ted wasn’t surprised at Beryl’s reaction. She and Sweetie were closer than sisters, and of course she was upset on Sweetie’s behalf, Mardi being so badly injured by Paddy’s account.

When they reached the farm, Ted jumped down to hold the ponies while Tru went into the smial, Beryl just behind him. Though Tru was ready to depart immediately, to get Mardi home and into a bed, Woodruff forestalled him, long enough to get Mardi to swallow a strong draught—half the contents of the dark bottle he’d brought to calm the teething baby. A good swallow or two would have much the same effect on a grown hobbit as two finger-dips on little Andy, relaxing him, dulling pain and perhaps sending him to sleep.

Paddy went at once to Fern, still brushing Rosemary’s mare. ‘Here now,’ he said. ‘You hadn’t ought to be on your feet, doing heavy work!’

 ‘Heavy work!’ Fern scoffed, though her face was pale. ‘This mare’s as gentle as a lamb and twice as sweet! She’s earned a good brushing, she has.’

 ‘Nevertheless,’ the teen said sternly, trying to affect his older brother’s masterful tones, ‘you belong inside, with your feet up, sipping a cooling drink. The day’s warming, and you hadn’t ought to be out in the sun.’

 ‘Sunshine’s good for a body,’ Fern said stubbornly, but just then Tru and Woodruff were bringing Mardi out of the smial, his arms heavily bandaged, burns safely hidden away, and Fern, in sudden surrender, turned the brush over to Paddy. ‘Very well, brother,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

 ‘I’ll finish brushing her,’ Paddy said importantly, ‘though she’s already gleaming...’

 ‘Nothing’s too good for this lass,’ Fern put in.

 ‘...and then I’ll ride her to Whittacres, so that they needn’t fetch her,’ Paddy said, ‘and the healer needn’t stop off along the way to leave the mare.’

 ‘We can drop the mare at Whittacres,’ Ted said from where he held the ponies nearby, as Mardi was helped into the waggon bed. ‘No need for you to ride there and walk back...’

 ‘It’s no trouble!’ Paddy insisted. ‘I can walk, thanks to Healer Woodruff here, and I will!’ And suiting action to words, he put the brush away and saddled the mare, and rode alongside the waggon as far as Whittacres.

Woodruff sat in the waggon bed on one side of Mardi; Ted sat on Mardi’s other side, and the two propped the injured hobbit between them, trying to spare him some of the inevitable jostle.

The strong draught that Woodruff had coaxed into Mardi before leaving the smial took effect, and by the time they were halfway to town his head was drooping against her shoulder, or so Ted noticed. His lips tightened, but he said nothing. There was nothing to be said, after all.

When they reached home, he helped to carry Mardi from waggon to bed, and then as his mother and sisters fussed over the healer’s assistant, Ted took the ponies and waggon back to the livery, and then went to fetch Mardi’s things, explaining about the accident.

 ‘Burned his hands,’ Stoney, the owner of the livery said. ‘Burned bad, I hear tell.’

Ted nodded, not surprised that the gossip had spread so far in so short a time.

 ‘It’s a real pity,’ Stoney said, shaking his head. ‘He’s good with those hands of his... not just healing, neither. Why, he could calm a pony with just the touch of his hand... a real pity,’ he ended.

 ‘Aye, a pity,’ Ted agreed. ‘Well, thanks again,’ he said in farewell, for Stoney had refused any money.

 ‘T’least I could do,’ Stoney said regretfully. ‘If there’s aught else...’

 ‘We’ll let you know,’ Ted said.

When he got back to the smial, Mardi was sound asleep, in Ted’s bed, of course, and Woodruff sat by his side. Of course.

 ‘When was the last time you slept?’ Ted said, stopping in the doorway.

 ‘I had a nap this morning,’ Woodruff said.

 ‘Not much of one,’ Beryl put in from behind Ted, bringing a cup of tea.

 ‘I’ll take that,’ Ted said, and did, and gulped half the cup while the two looked on in amaze.

 ‘You,’ he said to Sweetie, ‘go and lie yourself down. I’ll sit with him for a while; I don’t have to go out again today, after riding halfway round the Shire earlier in the week on the Thain’s behalf. I was to have a few days’ rest anyhow.’

 ‘And rest is what you ought to be doing,’ Woodruff said.

 ‘Speak for yourself!’ Ted said, and gulped the remainder of the tea with a gusty sigh. ‘There,’ he said. ‘I’m well fortified to take the next watch, and since you’ve had no tea to clear your head, you might as well lay it down on a pillow instead.’

 ‘Honestly!’ Woodruff said, but Beryl laughed softly.

 ‘You might as well,’ she said. ‘When Ted takes that tone there’s no moving him, as you well know.’

And so the first of Ted’s “days of rest” was taken up with the nursing of Mardibold, who was helpless to do anything for himself. True to his word, he sat by Mardi’s side for the rest of the afternoon, until the healer’s assistant began to rouse from the effects of the strong draught he’d taken earlier.

 ‘Welcome back to the world,’ he said, seeing Mardi’s eyelids flutter, and the hobbit’s breathing growing more rapid and shallow as he became aware enough to feel the pain of his burns.

 ‘Some welcome,’ Mardi muttered. ‘Feels as if the world is afire, and myself with it.’

 ‘That’s about right,’ Ted said. ‘But you’ve slept through nooning, and nearly past teatime. You ought to take something.’

 ‘Not sure that I could, even if I could manage,’ Mardi said, grimacing as he attempted to lift one of his arms.

 ‘I’ll do the managing,’ Ted said. ‘You just open your mouth at the right time...’

 ‘Are you queasy, Mardi?’ Woodruff said from the doorway, and to Ted she said, ‘Pain’ll oftentimes do such a thing, I find.’

 ‘Do you, now?’ Mardi said.

 ‘A good meal, that’s the first thing,’ Woodruff said, ‘and then another draught...’

 ‘Sleep,’ Mardi whispered, almost a plea, Ted thought.

 ‘And then we’ll change the dressings, once the draught does its work.’

 ‘Sooner than that,’ Mardi said, setting his jaw.

 ‘ ‘Twould be better, my lad...’ Woodruff began, but Mardi shook his head stubbornly.

 ‘I must see the wreck I’ve made,’ he said. ‘Bad enough, just imagining it.’

Beryl entered, then, bearing a laden tray, food enough for Ted and Mardi. But Ted demurred.

 ‘I’ll have my tea later,’ he said.

 ‘Now, Ted...’

 ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’ll need help, changing the dressings, Sweetie. I think I’ve the stomach to manage, but not if I’m recently full of food. I’ll help Mardi get his tea, and I’ll be your assistant, changing the dressings, and then it’ll be Tal’s turn to watch with Mardi, and I’ll take tea.’

There was no contradicting him. He patiently fed Mardi quite as if he’d been caring for an invalid all his life, with very little fuss and bother. Woodruff, watching, said, ‘And how do you know so well, what he wants next, and without him telling you?’

 ‘I just imagine that I’m the one eating,’ Ted said. ‘I’ve been taking tea for some years now, and have an idea of how it’s done.’

 ‘And done well,’ Mardi said through a mouthful of minced chicken sandwich. Ted lifted the teacup to Mardi’s lips to wash the morsel down. ‘Ah,’ Mardi sighed. ‘That was what was wanted.’

Though he spoke lightly, his face was strained, and Woodruff rose from her chair, saying, ‘I’ll just fetch that draught for you now.’

Mardi drank the draught without protest, and Woodruff made the necessary preparations to change the dressings, bringing a serving tray laden with fresh dressings and bandages and a large crock of honey.

As Mardi began to relax from the effects of the draught, Woodruff began. She unwound the bandages from his right arm and gently took hold of the large dressing that covered his forearm. He set his teeth in anticipation, but the dressing peeled back without any difficulty. Ted gathered used bandages and dressings in a bowl: They’d be washed and boiled and made ready for another use.

Ted caught his breath at the sight of the burns, and Mardi, his breathing shallow, stared down at his arm in dismay. Woodruff, however, only nodded. ‘Amazing,’ she said. ‘I still don’t know how it works. I spread the honey on, thick, and it is as if the wounds swallowed it all...’

 ‘But it’s not sticky,’ Mardi said slowly. ‘I mean, the dressing didn’t stick...’

 Sweet and sticky, doesn’t stick;
Heals bad burns, and double quick, Woodruff quoted. ‘So old Rosie taught me.’

 ‘Double quick?’ Mardi said, and yawned.

 ‘It’s already much better than you’ve any right to expect,’ Woodruff said, laying down a thick layer of honey and covering it all with a clean dressing. She re-dressed Mardi’s hand, next, and then each finger—though by the time she reached the fingers, her assistant was already asleep.

Tal, the brother next to Ted in age, watched with Mardi until the night was half spent, and then Thom, the next brother, took over. Beryl flitted in and out with cups of tea, but Woodruff was called away to a birthing and did not return until the dawning.

Ted rose a little before the sun did, to take his turn with Mardi, who was wakeful, slightly feverish, and fretful with the pain of his burns. While it seemed the opportune time to talk about Sweetie, somehow Ted could not bring himself to the task, but limited his words to the here-and-now of what Mardi needed. Eating, drinking, dressing and undressing himself, even the most private and personal acts must be assisted. Ted performed all these services with such patience and good humour that Woodruff looked at him in surprise on her return, after watching from the doorway for some moments as Ted sat Mardi up, propped him as comfortably as possible with pillows, and fed him his breakfast. ‘Perhaps you ought to be studying to be a healer, rather than a traveller.’

 ‘Never,’ Ted said. ‘I’ll leave that to you and Mardi, here; you do it so well.’ Mardi said nothing, looking glumly at his bandaged arms, but Woodruff patted her assistant on the shoulder.

Ted stayed at his post through the morning, helping once more with changing the dressings, and into the afternoon. Shortly after the noontide meal, Beryl came into the room with a beaming smile, though tears were on her cheeks.

 ‘What is it?’ Ted said, starting up from his chair, and Mardi opened his eyes, wakened from his doze.

 ‘O Mardi!’ Beryl said. ‘Ted, it’s wonderful; you wouldn’t believe it...’

 ‘What?’ Mardi said sleepily.

 ‘Somehow word’s got out, how you burned yourself saving little Violet Grubb,’ Beryl said tearfully, ‘and that the burns were bad, and that Sweetie is using quantities of honey... Even though they’ve no idea why quantities of honey are needed...’

Ted snickered, suddenly struck with the picture of Sweetie forcing pints of honey down a hapless Mardi’s throat.

 ‘...they... they...’ Beryl said, and took her pocket-handkerchief out to give her nose a proper blow.

 ‘They? Who? And what?’ Ted said.

 ‘Crocks and crocks of honey,’ Thom said excitedly from behind Beryl. ‘The Chubbses, and the Grubbses, and the Goodbodies, and Uncle Aldi Took, and Uncle Hosparius Took, and Uncle...’

 ‘Crocks of honey?’ Mardi said fuzzily.

 ‘...and Paladin Took, he brought half a barrel-ful of honey, and said there’s plenty more where that came from!’ Thom said. ‘Why, the store-hole’s half-filled with honey pots, so that you can scarcely walk into it!’

 ‘Aren’t Shire-folk wonderful?’ Beryl sobbed. ‘Aren’t they just...?’

 ‘Aye,’ Ted said, getting up to enfold her in a hearty hug. ‘They are, of a certainty.’

That afternoon they were getting ready to change the dressings again when there was a bustle at the front of the smial; Tru’s voice was raised in greeting.

 ‘More honey?’ Woodruff said. ‘We’ll be able to bathe in the stuff, at this rate!’

In another moment Tru Took was leading a stranger into the room, a hobbit not from Whitwell.

 ‘Father!’ Mardi said, sitting up a little against his pillows.

 ‘Mardi!’ the old healer said, pausing in the doorway as if afraid to step into the room. He took in the neat bandages that covered his son from fingertip to elbow and nodded to himself sadly, though he pasted on a smile out of long habit as a healer, and advanced into the room at last. ‘Tru sent word that you’d been injured...’

 ‘It’s nothing,’ Mardi said. ‘A little inconvenience, that’s all.’

 ‘Aye,’ his father whispered.

 ‘And my Mistress was trying to break me of the habit of gnawing at my thumbnail as it was,’ Mardi said. ‘I expect this will all work out for the best.’

 ‘Of course it will,’ Woodruff said. ‘Now hold yourself still,’ as she began to unwind the bandages.

 ‘No basin,’ the old healer muttered to himself, and at Woodruff’s inquiring look, he said, ‘but you’re not quite prepared, I see. Would you like me to fetch the basin?’

 ‘Basin?’ Woodruff said, going back to her work.

 ‘To soak off the dressings,’ Haldibold said.

 ‘But no! We want to keep the wounds as dry as possible,’ Woodruff said, completing the unwrapping of one arm and lifting away the dressing on the arm before tackling those that isolated each digit.

Haldibold started forward. ‘But...’ he hissed, and then added in astonishment. ‘It’s not sticking!’

 ‘Of course it’s not,’ Woodruff said matter-of-factly. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she carefully peeled each finger free.

Mardi was breathing shallowly, but exhibiting much less pain than his father had ever seen in treating burns.

 ‘There we are,’ Woodruff said low, as if to herself. She nodded in satisfaction, and Haldibold leaned closer to look.

 ‘But...’ he said. ‘How long ago...?’

 ‘Yesterday,’ Tru said from the doorway. ‘I sent for you just as soon as we had him settled in the bed here.’

 ‘Such healing...!’ Haldibold said, and for the first time there was more than false hope in his tone. And as Woodruff began to spread honey upon the burns, he said, ‘Honey?’

 ‘Best thing for burns,’ Woodruff said.

 ‘I’ve never heard of such...!’ the old healer said, but he was watching everything Woodruff did as a hawk watches the grasses for sign of a mouse.

At last the burns were dressed and bandaged, and Woodruff began on the other arm.

 ‘You wrapped each finger by itself,’ Haldibold observed.

 ‘Aye, and so they’ll heal,’ Woodruff said, handing him the bandage and peeling away the first dressing. ‘If you wrap them together, the new skin grows together, and you have a terrible muddle.’

 ‘Aye,’ Haldibold whispered, remembering one of his patients, and couldn’t help adding, ‘They said Sweetbriar was the finest healer in the Shire, and now I believe it.’

 ‘It wasn’t Sweetbriar who taught me of honey and burns,’ Woodruff corrected automatically, her eyes on her hands.

 ‘No?’ Haldibold said. ‘It’s nothing I’ve heard of, amongst the healers I’ve known from Tuckborough to Pincup!’

 ‘It’s what they do in the South Farthing,’ Woodruff said. ‘Rosie Bracegirdle taught me in my early years, you know.’

 ‘I’d heard something to that effect,’ Haldibold said. ‘She knew a fair bit about healing, it was said.’

 ‘May her dreams be peaceful ones,’ Woodruff murmured, finishing the delicate work of applying honey and gauze to Mardi’s fingers.

 ‘Bless her soul,’ Haldibold agreed fervently. ‘She’s saved my son’s hands, it looks like.’

 ‘I’d say my Mistress had a little bit to do with that,’ Mardi said through his teeth. The pain-dampening draught had not yet taken full effect, and though he was drowsy, the burns still felt as if a fire had been set in his flesh.

Woodruff smiled. ‘Nearly finished,’ she said soothingly. ‘Perhaps a little,’ she added.