CHAPTER 22

Bergil was miserable. It was hot in the tent, and he *hurt*, and he kept coughing, and that hurt even more.

For the very first time since leaving Gondor, Bergil found himself wishing he had never come. Always before, he had missed his father, but he wanted his father to have come with him. But today, he wished he were at *home* in his very own bed, and his father there to take care of him. It would be different if Sir Pippin were here. But Sir Pippin was back in the Shire, and his father was weeks away--a lump of misery rose in his throat, and he wanted to cry. He remembered crying before, though, and felt too embarrassed to give way; Miss Viola was sitting by him, reading in a book. She was a nice enough hobbit lass, but he did not know her well enough to cry in front of her.

And then another spasm of coughing hit him, and the tears fell whether he would or no. It was so hard to draw a breath, it felt like knives stabbing him.

Miss Viola leaned over and help him sit up, and spit out the fluid into a basin; that was so nasty and embarrassing. He whimpered in spite of himself.

“It’s all right, Bergil-lad,” she said quietly. “We need you to cough that out. I know it hurts.”

She slipped off her own pendulum, a bit of amber mounted in copper, on a silken cord, and held it over him. He was clearly in a good deal of distress. Mistress Poppy had been guessing at the doses she was using for him. He was larger than a hobbit, but still he was a child, so she had felt better to err on the side of caution. It seemed that they had been underestimating the amount of draught it would take to keep him comfortable. Viola thought perhaps it was time for more, but she did not wish to make that decision on her own; she would have to ask her Mistress.

She poked her head out, and caught the eye of the Gondorian, Adrahil, who was passing by. He stopped, an anxious expression on his face.

“Is something wrong, Miss Viola? Is the boy worse?”

“Not seriously worse, but his medicine is wearing off. I should like to speak to my mistress about giving him another draught; not something I should care to do on my own account. Could you sit with him a few moments, until I return?”

Adrahil nodded, and entered the tent, going to sit next to the boy. Bergil looked thoroughly wretched.

“Good day, Bergil,” Adrahil said. “I will not ask how you are, for it is clear that you do not feel well at all.”

Bergil shook his head sadly. “I am sorry for being such a baby. I am in the service of Gondor, and I should bear up with this better.”

Adrahil suppressed a smile. “You have broken ribs and water in your lungs. Even a seasoned soldier is going to be unhappy in like circumstance.”

“But I have slowed the company down. I know that we are staying here on my account.”

“This is true. But you do not think our captain would have done the same if one of us were injured? This journey is important, but we are not at war and there is no urgency. And your tumble into the water was not your fault. The ground was unstable and gave way.”

Bergil looked up hopefully, though his features were still pinched with pain. “You really think so?”

“I do.” The Gondorian soldier looked thoughtful for a moment, and then smiled. “Ah, and now, you know, you’ve something in common with Sir Peregrin--both of you have suffered broken ribs! You can boast of that in your next letter to him!”

Bergil smiled slightly. “Why, you’re right, Adrahil!”

Adrahil grinned. “I know. Is that not amazing.”

Bergil gave a little chuckle, which he quickly suppressed. “It hurts to laugh,” he complained mildly.

Just then Viola returned, with a draught of medicine. She gave it to Bergil, and he drank it down dutifully, only slightly making a face.

“You should be able to rest and sleep now, Bergil,” she said. She turned to the soldier. “Thank you for watching him, Adrahil.”

“I do not mind. All of us are very fond of the boy, as well as of his father.”

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At the beaver pond, Berilac, Rolly and Denny looked at Freddy, Jolly and Mosco. All of them were stripped down to their small clothes. The Bucklanders were used to swimming unclad, but Beri thought that the others might balk at that. He knew very well that hobbits from the rest of the Shire would find that to be improper.

“We will go out into the water, and you will wade out to us. We will start in water that is only waist deep to begin with. Try to relax; we won’t let anything happen to any of you.” Beri tried to keep his voice confident and cheerful. He had taught swimming before, but only to young Buckland hobbits, to whom the idea was perfectly normal. He had never had to teach anyone before who was terrified just at the idea of going into the water.

The three Bucklanders waded out into the pond about waist deep, and felt with their feet along the bottom to make sure there were no sudden drop offs. They stood there, arms extended. “Come on, now!” they encouraged.

Freddy looked at Jolly and Mosco, who were both trembling a bit. Clearly, it was up to him to set an example. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he took a few steps. When he was ankle deep, he stopped and looked back at the other two, who reluctantly followed. Then he looked Beri in the eye, and received a nod, so he took a few more steps. As the water rose up to his knees and then his thighs, he felt a moment of panic and froze.

“It’s all right, Freddy,” said Beri in a soothing tone of voice. Berilac took a few steps forward and took both Freddy’s hands, and then began to step back, drawing him along slowly. Next to him, the others were doing the same.

Berilac left the other two Bucklanders to their own methods of teaching, and concentrated on Freddy. He knew that for the Bolger, this was far more terrifying than he was letting on.

“Watch me, Freddy,” he said. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he bent over and put his face in the water for a few seconds, blowing out a few bubbles. Then he stood back up, the water running down his face.

“Now you try it.”

Summoning every ounce of courage he had, Freddy drew in his breath.

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When Mistress Poppy had spoken to Viola about giving Bergil more of the draught, she decided she had slept enough, and came out of the tent.

She had something she needed to take care of. She and Viola were going to have to take these swimming lessons, too. But there were certain proprieties to be observed.

Legolas was seated to one side of the encampment, carefully examining his arrows. His fit of sea-longing had passed, and as it often did, it left him feeling in need of doing something mundane. He felt the presence of the hobbit healer as she approached. Without looking up, he said “May I be of help to you, Mistress Poppy?” He finished his examination of the arrow he held, replaced it in his quiver, and gave her his full attention.

She hesitated briefly. “Master Legolas--” she still felt a bit uncomfortable with that form of address, knowing he was a prince, but it was what he insisted on--”I was wondering: do you swim?”

His eyes went wide. That was the last thing he was expecting. “Why, yes, Mistress Poppy, I do.”

She nodded. “I thought you probably did. It seemed very likely. The reason I ask is this: I have agreed for my apprentice and myself to learn. But I do not think it would be appropriate for us to have our lessons with the others, and I especially think, in light of certain things, that it would not be proper for Berilac Brandybuck to be teaching Viola. I have no problems with his paying court to her, but spending time together when he is clad in naught but wet smallclothes, and she in a wet shift, does not seem wise to me.”

Legolas suppressed a smile. Mistress Poppy was very practical and down to earth about a lot of things, but in some ways she was very hobbity indeed. Her concern over what was proper reminded him of Sam.

“You would like me to teach you?” he asked.

“If it would not be an imposition. The Men will have their hands full teaching the prisoners.”

He thought briefly, and then nodded. “I would be honored,” he said. When she left, he found himself chuckling, and remembering Gandalf’s saying about how you could think you knew everything about hobbits, yet they could still surprise you.

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The six hobbits dried themselves off and donned their clothing before heading back to the campsite. Jolly had made the most progress so far. He was already treading water and dog paddling a bit. Mosco had finally been persuaded to lift his feet from the bottom and do a bit of kicking as long as Denny retained hold of his hands. Freddy had barely managed to keep his face in the water for more than a few seconds, however, and he was feeling very frustrated. He would start out feeling that he could do it, but as soon as his head was in the water, he began to feel an urgent need for breath, even though he could hold his breath out of the water far longer than that.

Berilac was also frustrated with Freddy’s lack of progress, but he did his best not to let it show. He knew that Fredegar had further to go and more fear to lose than the others.

When they arrived back at the encampment it was mid-afternoon. Rolly and Denny went to the stores to see about what needed to be done about making supper.

Borondir and Anwynd now took the reluctant prisoners, and began herding them towards the beaver pond for their lesson. It was very clear that all four of the hobbit prisoners were very reluctant indeed. Berilac was exceedingly grateful that he was not going to be having to try to teach any of them.

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Poppy had gone to relieve Viola of her watch over the ill Bergil. She told her about her decision to have Legolas give them their own swimming lessons on the morrow. It was clear that Viola was disappointed, for she had looked forward to spending the time with Beri.

She sat down next to the child, and took out a bit of mending. He was still sleeping heavily from his last dose of medicine.

She was a bit worried about his condition. She had hoped to see more improvement than had so far been evident. She was very much afraid he was going to take a turn for the worse.

She looked up as Fredegar entered. “How is he?” he asked.

“He is not doing so well as I had hoped,” she answered candidly.

He went over and sat down, taking the child’s limp sweaty hand in his own. “I have become very fond of him,” he said.

“I know,” answered Poppy, “as have we all.”