A Father’s Work – Halfred

1378 SR
Hobbiton

Hamfast is 52, Bell 46, Hamson 13, Halfred 9, Daisy 6 and May 2 (or about 33, 29, 8, 5, 4 years, and 16 months in Man years)

It was Hamson as come to fetch me at Bag End. I was taking a rest, sipping on a water skin and leaning against a tree when he come running around the bend. He stops all of a sudden-like when he spots me from the corner of his eye. I’m not where he was expecting and he’d been heading for the tool shed.

“What’s a matter, Hammy?” I ask, sitting up and hoping there’s naught wrong with Bell or the lasses.

“It’s Fred,” Hamson pants and those are the only two words I need to hear.

I heave a sigh of my own and pick myself up off the ground. “Where’s he at?” I ask, dreading the answer. Halfred could be anywhere when he comes to trouble and that’s just one of the problems. He don’t seem to mind if he’s a causing trouble at the neighbors or in front of one of the gentry’s smials.

“Home. Ma’s stopped the bleeding,” Hamson answers and my heart near drops to my toes with those words. Hamson notices and rushes ahead to make himself clear-like. “Just a bloody nose, Dad, naught worse’n that. Miss Dora ain’t too pleased none though and that’s a fact. His nose went and bled all over that fine silk rug of hers.”

My heart goes and drops even further. This is going to take a good bit of straightening out and Mr. Bilbo’s vegetable garden will be the one as suffers for it. Looks like it’ll have to wait ‘til the morrow for its tending.

I pat Hamson on the head. “Go tell your Ma I’ll be there soon as I can. Is Miss Baggins a waiting?”

“No sir. She’s seeing to her rug, but she were right worrit for Fred,” Hamson answers afore darting away back around Bag End for the lane.

I gather up my tools and tuck everything away in the shed, then go to the well for washing up afore knocking at Bag End’s back door. When there’s no answer, I know Mr. Bilbo must be in his study, so I head to the front and knock again. This time he answers straight away and when he hears the trouble, he rushes me right off home.

“And don’t you worry about Dora,” Mr. Bilbo says, his eyes a twinkling. “She nearly set fire to that rug once showing off to her brothers how to light a pipe. The rug survived; the divan was not so fortunate.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bilbo,” I say with a nod, not sure if he were telling the truth or another one of his stories. I appreciate it either way. I wish him good day and head off for home.

Bell’s calling to me the moment I set foot in the smial. I follow her voice to the kitchen to find her at the washbasin scrubbing away at Halfred’s shirt; his breeches are soaking in the basin waiting for their turn at the washboard.

“What happened?” I ask. I need to know if I should be cross with the lad or if he’s simply needing some gentleness.

“It were just an accident, Ham,” Bell says. “Miss Dora was having the lads dust her selves – the ones as they could reach, mind – but Fred didn’t reckon as they should be leaving any for her to do after, so he grabbed up a chair to stand on and when he was finished, he missed his footing coming down.” Bell shakes her head and stretches her neck. She finishes with the shirt for now and sticks in the water to soak with the breeches. “I think his nose might be broken, so I sent Hamson to fetch Miss Camellia.”

“And where was Hamson during all this mess?” I ask, reckoning mayhap I should be upset with him instead.

“He were working in the other room,” Bell answers. She wipes her hands dry then stretches her back. “Miss Dora just feels right awful, saying as she shouldn’t of split them up like she did. She were going to watch Fred as she did her broidery, but she misplaced her needles and the next thing she knew, Fred’s a howling.”

She comes to me and rests her head on my shoulder. She’s right exhausted from the ordeal and I hold her close so she can relax a little, but she ain’t looking to relax for long. She pulls away after a minute and looks at me hard, a little frown between her eyes.

“I stopped the bleeding and ruined a good many of our rags in the process. Fred’s worrit. He reckons as he’s in trouble again. I told him he ain’t but he reckons as you work for Mr. Bilbo and Miss Dora’ll be up at the Bag End to speak with the Master, you’ll hear everything and get the wrong idea. You need to talk to him, Ham, that’s why I sent for you. The lad needs to rest and he ain’t going to get any while he’s twisted up with worriting. I’ll serve Miss Camellia some tea when she comes and we’ll be chatting ‘til you’re done. That’s the best kind of healing he can get right now,” she tells me.

I nod slowly. It were an accident right enough and if I should be upset with anybody it’d be Miss Dora. At least she should have had Hamson watching Fred as she looked for her needles, knowing what a klutz that lad is. Course, Halfred shouldn’t be climbing onto chairs as don’t belong to him neither, but both those talks can wait for later.

“Where’s he at?” I ask.

“In his room,” Bell says, just as May wakes up fussing from her nap. Bell goes to fetch the faunt afore she can wake up Daisy with her wailing and I follow her as far as the lads’ room.

I rap on the door gentle-like afore going inside. Halfred’s sitting up in bed with his head tilted back on what looks like nearly every pillow in the smial. His nose is swollen up like an eggplant and even his cheeks are a touch puffy. He sees me coming in and smiles bravely. Least he didn’t knock out any teeth with his stunt.

“Hullo Dad,” Fred greets me, though he sounds as though he’d rather be seeing me walking out than in. “I can fix Miss Dora’s rug, I’m sure of it.”

“Now lad,” I say and sit next to him on the bed. I put an arm around him, careful not to disturb the pillows. “That’s not for you to be worriting on. A rug’s just that, no matter what it’s made of, and it can be replaced if need be. You can’t, though, and I was more worrit for you when I heard the news. How’s your nose?”

“’S all right,” he answers bravely, melting into my side now he knows he ain’t in for any lecturing. “Sore though and it keeps thumping.”

“I’m sure it is,” I agree. “You hurt anywhere else? Your hands or knees?”

“My right knee’s smarting, but Ma said as that’d be fine come morning,” he informs me stoutly.

“Hm-mm,” I hum and look down at him. “And what did you learn from this adventure of yours?”

“Well,” Fred said, considering. “Hamson gets queasy at too much blood. Ma’s right smart at stopping bloody noses; she could be a healer.”

“All mothers are. What else? What’d you learn about standing up on chairs to do work as is too big for you?” I prompt.

“Don’t fall on my nose. Daisy said as I should of fallen on my head as its so hard naught could hurt it,” Fred says.

I chuckle at that and pat his shoulder soft-like. “Aye, that it is, but don’t be falling on naught if you can be helping it. You gave us all a fright, son.”

“So I’m in trouble?” he asks and his little face falls into gloom.

“No, you’re not in trouble. You just get your rest and do what your ma and the healer tell you,” I order.

“The healer?”

“Aye, I reckon she’s here by now. I’ll be fetching her,” I say but afore I can so much as move, there’s a wee knocking at the door and next thing Daisy’s poking her head in.

“Are you still bleeding?” she asks, her face eager.

“No,” Fred answers.

“Oh,” Daisy says, sounding disappointed.

I chuckle again and stand up. “Come lass. The healer’s waiting and we’ll only get in the way.”

I steer her out the room as she starts a telling me her version of events. “You should of seen it, Daddy. There was blood everywhere! I thought it’d fill the whole room, it kept coming and coming. It smelled too. I didn’t know blood smelled like that. Mayhap it was cause it came from his nose.” We enter the kitchen and Bell and the healer are sitting at the table, fresh cups of tea in front of them. Bell’s got May to her teat and Miss Camellia’s listening to every word Daisy says. “I had to help Ma since Hammy was sicking from all the blood. So Ma had him put May to her nap and then come fetch you.”

“I was not sicking!” Hamson protests from the parlor.

“You were so!” Daisy calls back.

“No hollering in the smial,” Bell commands and they hush up.

“I’ll see to the patient now,” Miss Camellia says and excuses herself.

Some time later, she emerges from the room and we’re all glad – except Daisy – to see no more blood on her. Daisy, Hamson and I put down the taters we’re peeling and Bell settles Fred’s breeches in the washbasin to soak again. Only May keeps playing on the floor with the tater peelings, a feeding them to her doll.

“His nose was broken,” the healer announces. “I’ve reset it already; you have a stout son. He didn’t complain once. I’ll leave you some willow bark for the pain as he needs it, no more than a teaspoon per teacup except at night. Then you can put two teaspoons to help him sleep. He’s not to sleep on his side or stomach for a week and discourage him from touching his nose, though he’ll have discharge for the next few days while the wound heals. He just needs to be gentle when he blows it, no wiping but he can blot at it.”

“Thank you, Miss Camellia,” I say, getting up. “How much do we owe you?”

“A bushel of those potatoes will do just fine,” she says. “I was going to cook a stew tonight but now I won’t have time to get into town. It’d save me a lot of trouble.”

I gather up a dozen of my best taters and put them in a sack for her. She exchanges a pouch of the willow bark for the taters.

“I’ll be back to check on him in a few days,” Miss Camellia says and Bell sees her to the door.

When Bell comes back, we all sigh with relief and wonder what kind of trouble Fred will be getting himself into next time.

GF 6/14/08