Chapter 36. Interlude

My beloved carries me, half-asleep, to the healer's quarters, but when he lays me down upon the bed I come fully awake. Wobbling a little, I get up and go over to the dressing table with its ewer of water, pour some into the bowl and splash my face. The cool water is refreshing, and I undo my nightdress, letting it drop to the floor, moisten a flannel and wash away the fiery flashes and fears left from the long night's struggle.

He is right behind me, lifting my hair away from my shoulders. 'I could order you a bath, my love.'

'No,' I say, 'that won't be necessary. This is all I really wanted.'

Still holding my hair off my skin with one hand, he drops a kiss where neck and shoulder meet--knowing my state of exhaustion, it is benediction rather than invitation--takes the flannel from my hand and washes my neck, shoulders and back. I arch my back; how good it feels! ...and then he puts the flannel down again and gently braids my hair, tucking it out of my way. I close my eyes to savour the sensation of being cosseted.

I take up the flannel once more, wring it out in the bowl, and quickly tend to the rest of me, and immediately as I finish he wraps a bathing sheet around me, holding me for a long moment in the comfort of his embrace. 'There,' he says. 'A fresh nightdress, and...'

'How lovely it sounds,' I say.

'But?' he says, turning me towards himself.

I speak as I reach for the clothes laid out fresh for my arising. ' "No healers," he said.'

'Who is it, that said such a thing?'

'No healers in the bedroom, intruding on their privacy, no healers in the sitting room, listening from afar, no healers in the healer's room, sawing logs and letting them know they're not alone...'

'So...' he guesses, 'you are dressing, only long enough to go back to our apartments, where you will sensibly undress once more and seek your rest.'

I smile. 'Very nearly,' I say.

'Beloved, you swooned, they told me. You're wearied beyond anything I've seen before...'

'The Battle of Bywater was worse,' I say, 'and the aftermath of the fire, when Peregrin first became Thain... all those hobbits on the firelines, who suffered smoke and burns...'

'You worked straight through without rest,' he allows, but places a finger beneath my chin to tilt my face up to meet his worried eyes. 'But you did not neglect yourself... you maintained your distance, you didn't grieve so...'

'I always grieve, to lose a life,' I say softly. 'But sometimes there's no time for tears.'

He shakes his head. 'Perhaps you ought to step down as head healer,' he says. 'Perhaps we should go back to Whitwell. You're too near, in this case.'

I can scarcely draw breath, for his arrow has struck too close to the mark, I fear; but I manage somehow. 'I am well,' I insist.

'My love,' he whispers.

'I am well,' I repeat, and force a smile, '...or I will be, as soon as I've had something to eat. There are just a few matters of business to take care of, first...'

'Matters of business?' he echoes, eyebrow raised.

I tick them off on my fingers. 'Regi,' I say. He nods. 'Ferdi,' and another nod. 'Master and Mayor,' I conclude.

'You ordered a sleeping draught for the Master,' he says.

'I did, and I'm just going to make sure he takes it.'

'And one for yourself,' he says, unexpectedly.

I hesitate, and then I nod. 'Very well,' I say. 'A small one, just enough to sleep until midday. That will just put me right.'

'I'll accompany you,' he says. I have finished dressing, and I hold out my hand to him. We walk together from the room, softly down the corridor, smelling the good smells of breakfast. Yes, I'll take care of business, and then I'll eat, and then I'll sleep.

I do not know where this sudden confidence comes. Surely it is not from a glimpse of the Thain's face, seeing the lines of pain and weariness being smoothed away somehow. Surely it does not stem from that elusive feeling of well-being that still courses through my body, just barely perceptible when I close my eyes and listen.

I may be about to make the worst mistake of my life, if only to prove to my beloved that I am not too "near". I have not lost the necessary capacity to put my feelings away, to deal with a patient with detachment, to distance myself from my own emotion in the matter. I am not too near to the matter at hand.

And if I am mistaken, and Pippin dies while I'm at my rest, then I do not deserve to remain head healer at the Great Smials, anyhow.

***

Reginard and Ferdibrand enter the receiving room of the Thain's quarters from the public corridor just as my beloved and I enter from the private hall--How convenient, my beloved breathes in my ear, and I manage a wry smile, for I have no illusions as to their reaction, not summoned during the emergency, but left to sleep themselves out until the dawning, to be informed only upon arising, per my orders. At least I am spared the necessity of going in search for them, or worse, having to waken them with last night's news myself.

Ferdi is nearly incendiary; his fury is a palpable thing, while Regi is grim, but he holds the younger hobbit in check and he is the one who speaks.

'Why did you not call us?' he says.

'The room was crowded, as it was,' I said. 'We didn't need anyone scalded by hot water or steam, or getting in the way.'

'Sandy said...'

'What if he had died?' Ferdi breaks in, his fists clenched at his side.

I look at him calmly. 'He didn't,' I say.

'But...'

'And even if he did,' I add, 'the seal of the Thain has already passed on. There was no need for you to be there. He wouldn't have wanted you to suffer, watching him.'

'Sandy said...' Regi repeats.

'No matter what Sandy told you,' I say firmly, 'it was a thousand times worse.'

They stare at me in shock. 'He'd try to spare your feelings, that hobbit would,' I say. 'And now what do you intend? To burst in upon the Thain, disturb him from his slumber, now that the ordeal is over?'

'Is it over?' Regi says sceptically.

'It is,' I say. I am taking an awful risk, but frankly, I am past caring. Give Pippin his privacy, my heart cries. Leave him be. Let him die alone, in peace, as he wishes, if that is to be his fate.

'How do you know?' Ferdi demands.

I look at him archly, with all the healer's conceit I can muster. 'When you've been a healer as long as I have, you might begin to answer that question yourself,' I say haughtily. 'Now, if you've quite finished...'

Regi takes a deep breath. 'What are you saying?' he asks, and somehow he is calmer.

'Shoo!' I say, and I shake my hands at them as if I were scattering chickens.

Ferdi jumps in surprise, and glares.

'Get off wit' ye, then,' I say, with the best Tookish lilt I can muster, for it is the language of Ferdi's childhood, the way his father and beloved uncle spoke, long ago in the fair Green Hills, and it is a reassurance to him though he may not even know it. What matters is that I know it, and have used it in dealing with him over the years. 'The hobbit is aslumberin', I tell ye, and ye willna be thankit if ye rouse 'im from his rest.'

Regi knows exactly what I'm doing, but Ferdi blinks, disarmed for the moment. But a moment is all I need, for Regi is swayed, I see, and it won't take much more to turn him around, now that I have got him thinking.

'Breakfast,' I say, holding Regi's eye, 'and then to the business of the Thain. He'll want a full report when he wakens.'

Will he waken? The question is clear in Regi's eyes, but he takes Ferdi's arm and turns away. 'Breakfast,' he echoes. 'And think of the work that's piled up, the past few days...'