PART 5

It was indeed, coming on for elevenses as they approached the Hill in Hobbiton. Frodo was sitting up in the front with Farmer Longhole, and though he was keeping up his end of the old farmer’s meandering conversation, his mind was on Merry. Pippin was sitting by Merry, holding his hand and singing to him. As they headed up the Hill, Frodo turned.

“Pippin, I want you to hop out here. Go over to Number Three and let Sam know we are back, and then head back down and fetch Mistress Salvia.”

Pippin nodded, and giving Merry a quick kiss on top of his head, he jumped out as the waggon pulled up briefly.

Sam, of course, would be taking elevenses at home, since Frodo had been gone. Pippin knocked at the door of Number Three, Bagshot Row, and it was opened by Marigold.

“Master Pippin!” said Sam’s sister in surprise. “Mr. Frodo went out looking for you!”

“Yes, and he found us and brought us back. Please Marigold, may I speak with Sam?”

But Sam had heard from the kitchen and was already there. “Is aught amiss, Master Pippin?” For he knew the lad pretty well, and could read the distress on his face.

“Yes, Sam. Merry hurt his ankle--it’s sprained or maybe even broken. Frodo wanted me to tell you we were back, and then I’m to fetch the healer.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll go up at once and see if he needs my help. You go on along then--” he stopped, noticing an embarrassed perplexity on Pippin’s open face. “What’s wrong?”

“Er, Sam--I’ve never been. Where *is* Mistress Salvia’s house?”

Sam suppressed a smile. “Down to the bottom of the Hill, turn left on the lane, second cottage on the right.” Of course, Master Pippin had never had to fetch the healer before--that had usually been Mr. Frodo’s or young Mr. Merry’s job if she was needed up at Bag End.

Pippin gave a grin. “Thanks!” and was off like an arrow.

Sam watched him for an instant, and then set off himself, up the Hill at a ground-eating lope.
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Pippin skidded to a halt in front of the gate that led up to a pleasant little cottage. Mistress Salvia herself was in the garden, harvesting herbs from one of the beds that grew along the path leading up to her round door, which was painted a cheery red. She straightened up at the sight of the young hobbit who was coming breathlessly up the path.

“Why, it’s Peregrin Took! Is something wrong?” For Pippin had been a patient of hers once or twice, after falling ill at Bag End.

“Yes, Mistress Salvia. My cousin Merry hurt his ankle, and Frodo said to fetch you.”

“Just a moment, then, and I’ll get my satchel. You can tell me what happened as we walk up to Bag End.”

It only took her an instant to step in her door. She took off her apron and took her jacket and her medical satchel from their hooks by the front door. Then she turned and walked along with Pippin at her side. She could tell he was fairly humming with tension.

“Now, what happened?”

“Well, you see it all started when Uncle Sara--that’s Merry’s father--paid this carter to bring the two of us here to Hobbiton---”
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Moving quickly, Sam arrived at Bag End’s gate at very nearly the same time the farmer’s waggon did.

“Ah, Sam!” Frodo exclaimed. “Excellent!”

“Do you need some help, Mr. Frodo?”

“I suspect that I shall, in order to get Merry inside and settled in before the healer gets here.”

Merry sat up, and with Frodo on one side, and Sam on the other, he put an arm around each of their necks, and they linked arms to make a
“chair” to carry him in.

Farmer Longhole followed, carrying the packs of Frodo, Merry and Pippin.

Soon they were inside Bag End, and in the little guest room that Merry always used when he visited. Fortunately, Frodo had made the room up two days before, when he was expecting his cousins’ arrival.

Frodo and Sam placed Merry in a nearby chair, and Sam turned the bed down, while Frodo rummaged in Merry’s pack for a nightshirt.

Farmer Longhole, who had stood at the door to Merry’s room looking a bit uncomfortable--for who was he, to be inside Mr. Baggins’ fine hole?--spoke up. “Well, Mr. Baggins, I do need to get back home! It’ll be half the day agone when I get there as is.”

“Oh, will you not stay, and take some tea?” asked Frodo. It was the least he could do for all the farmer’s help.

“Nay, I thank you. Master Merry, I hope you get to feeling better soon!” and with a polite bob of his head he left.

“Seems a nice enough sort,” said Sam.

“Oh, indeed! He’s the salt of the earth! I would have offered him something for all his help, but I fear me he would have been mortally offended.” Frodo spoke as he helped Merry into the nightshirt.

“Aye, you have the right of that,” Sam replied. “I’ll go to the kitchen and put the kettle on.”

“Thank you, Sam. Now, Merry, let’s settle you in the bed. I want to put a pillow under your leg and get you nice and comfortable before Mistress Salvia gets here.”

“Oh, Frodo!” Merry’s grey eyes filled. “I’m so sorry I’ve been so much trouble for you.”

Frodo smiled at him. “Oh, you’re no end of trouble, you silly goose, and worth every moment of it! It’s nothing really…”
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“…and then I made him lie down and stick his foot up on his pack to keep it up and I wet my shirt to put on it and keep it cool, because I thought that was right with a sprained ankle but then when Frodo came he thought that maybe it might not be sprained but maybe it was broken and so now I am wondering if I should have done something different if it was broken because I knew about sprains but I don’t know anything about broken ankles at all and--”

Mistress Salvia suppressed a chuckle at this earnest and breathless recital, and interrupted the flow of words. “No, young Peregrin, you did the right thing, whether it was broken or only sprained. The only other thing you might have done was to splint it, and that is not something you should attempt if you do not know how. You did precisely right.”

He beamed at her. “Oh good! Because I was so worried that I might not get it right, you know, and I wanted to take good care of my Merry.”

She smiled at him. “Well, I think that you took very good care of him indeed,” she said, “and here we are at Bag End!”

The lad darted ahead, and opened the door with a yell--”Frodo! The healer is here!”

“We’re in Merry’s room!” came a faint yell back.

The stout little healer followed Pippin through the passageway to the room where her patient lay.

“Ah, young Meriadoc! Looks like something a bit more serious than skinned elbows today,” she said briskly.

“Yes, Mistress Salvia,” he said.

She looked at the swollen and discolored ankle. It could either be a serious sprain, or it could be broken. She began to carefully examine and probe it, as her patient winced and bit his lip. “I know this is painful, Mr. Brandybuck, but I have to know.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. Both Pippin and Frodo, watching, looked as though they were wincing in pain as well. Tears stood in both their eyes.

Finally, she took her amber pendulum on its leather thong from around her neck and suspended it over the injury, carefully watching the patterns it made as it swung there.

She nodded. “Ah,” she said.

“What is it?” asked Frodo. “Is it broken?”

“I am as sure as I can be,” she said, “without having some way to see beneath the skin and muscle. It is not broken clear through, but rather there seems to be a crack in the bone, probably no greater than the width of a hair. I shall splint it, and he will need to keep it elevated for a day or two longer. Then a week or so on crutches. I have a powder he can take in tea or juice that will help to ease the pain, and I shall leave that with you, along with directions. You will need to get plenty of rest.”

Merry nodded. He hurt dreadfully right now, and he was afraid he’d cry if he spoke.

Just then Sam entered with a tray, a teapot, and enough cups for everyone.

“Perfect,” said the healer. “He can have his first dose of pain-killer now.”

She took a little pouch from her satchel, and put the contents in a cup and poured the tea over, and Merry sat up to drink his medicine.

After Mistress Salvia had left, Frodo and Pippin tucked Merry up firmly, and Frodo sat on the chair by the bed, and Pippin went over to lie on his other side. Sam went to see the healer out, and then into the garden to begin his afternoon’s work. Merry soon drifted off from the effect of the medicine, and soon both his exhausted cousins were gently snoring as well.
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Later that evening after a light supper taken from a tray in Merry’s room, and shared by all three, Frodo said, “Well, I need to write your parents, Merry, and let them know we shall not make it to the Great Smials for the Lithedays. Would you like to write them as well? I’ll bring you a tray, with parchment and ink, if you do.”

Merry nodded, and soon he was sitting up, balancing the tray across his knees, as he wrote his own letter:

“Dear Mum and Da,

I know Frodo is writing you as well. I don’t want you to worry. It’s nothing really, but…”

The End