Chapter 6, The Fate of the Other

Pippin’s eyes slowly blinked open to a semi-dark room. A grey light framed the curtains that he had drawn shut prior to collapsing in bed. No...not yet, he groaned within. He turned over to find a more comfortable position. Pippin was just about to float off into dreamland once again when he heard pounding upon his bedroom door.

“Pippin!” came Pervinca’s familiar piercing voice inside his room. “It’s a quarter to the hour--Mother says you have to get dressed and presentable for second breakfast right now.”

Pippin’s brain was still a bit foggy; he lay there in his bed letting his sister’s words sink into his thoughts. Second breakfast? It’s too early for that yet. Pippin wiped the slobber away from his mouth then brought the blankets up over his head where it was warm and toasty underneath.

“Get up, you slowcoach!” Vinca urged her brother to wakefulness when she lightly tugged on his toes. “You have guests to entertain out here!”

“It’s just Frodo,” he murmured.

Not to be put off, Vinca restated their mother’s message with more emphasis before closing the door. “Mother says now, Pip!”

It was a good thing that Pervinca left when she did, because a good-sized pillow walloped against the doorjamb where her head had been.

Pippin angrily threw aside his toasty blankets to rise, and then danced across the cold floor on his tiptoes toward his dressing gown laid over the backside of a chair by the fireplace.

He and the lads--that is, Frodo, Reggie, Everard, and Degger all stayed up into the wee hours of the morning talking and playing draughts. The jollity was a bit of a celebratory thing for the youngest two passing their exams. It had been a long time since Pippin had stayed up that late; for the past eight months, his (somewhat) normal routine was to revise the day’s lessons, write out his night work, and then go to bed--which was usually before ten o’clock. All Pippin remembered when he entered his room was the little-hand of his wall clock being somewhere near the “3” position.

Wrapping his dressing gown round him, Pippin went up to his outer door to peek into the hallway to see if he could make a quick trip to the privy unnoticed. Good! The hall was clear, and out he went.

“What the devil is this? Somebody’s bed-head child trying to sneak past us!”

Pippin stood rooted halfway from his bedroom to the privy. No one seemed to be in the hallway when he had peeped into it, yet...he knew that voice--and it certainly wasn’t Frodo’s! He turned round to see the face of his best friend in the whole world standing beside Fredegar Bolger.

“Merry!” cried Pippin, running to greet his cousin and bombard him with hugs. “At first I thought you would come with Frodo, but you didn’t, so then I thought that you’d come alone--but I knew Uncle Sara and Aunt Essie wouldn’t allow you to do that yet. You’re here for my graduation, too, aren’t you? And so is Freddy! This is the best Yule present!”

Merry laughed at hearing Pippin talk excitedly. “Well, hurry up, you slowcoach! We got an early start from the inn we stopped at overnight and ate a hasty first breakfast.”

Pippin smiled, “Guests indeed! You sent Vinca to say all those things, didn’t you?”

Now Merry smiled in return, “Go on, now! Second breakfast is almost ready, and I’m hungry.”

“I don’t think he wants you to hurry too much, Pip,” Fredegar put in, eyeing a particular scene going on inside the dining room. “He’s got a wonderful view from where he is. But I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” He winked at Merry, who blushed.

Pippin leaned in a bit for a better look and saw none other than Miss Estella Bolger sharing a funny moment with her friend Pervinca.

Freddy playfully nudged Merry’s arm and then snickered. He was going to enjoy this! So far, other than natural conversation, Merry only gazed with much admiration toward Estella, and as far as Freddy knew, his sister hadn’t noticed lads much as of yet. But of course, Freddy would be keeping an eye out anyway.

Once Pippin was dressed and presentable, everyone sat down to second breakfast. Upon the arrival of the newer guests, Eglantine ordered more food to be brought in to accommodate everyone: Paladin’s family, Frodo, Degger, Merry, Fredegar, and Estella. When everyone was getting full and merely filling up the corners, folks splintered off into their own conversations.

“So what is there to do round here for fun, Peregrin Took?” Freddy asked Pippin while nibbling on piece of bacon. Having an uncle, aunt, and cousins here at Great Smials, Freddy was no stranger to the enormous dwelling; he was merely having a jest with his young friend. “If you’re going to play host as heir to the heir of the Took and Thain, you must learn how to entertain your guests.”

Pippin sat back in his chair, also nibbling on a slice of bacon, pondering Freddy’s question.

Merry looked at Pip, “What about that ball I gave you for my birthday this year?”

Pippin thought on that for a bit. However, it had been placed alongside his wooden soldiers, bags of marbles, and other playthings inside his old toy-chest. Balls were meant to be played with in games that required a group of children--and the only lad round the Smials on a more permanent basis that was close to Pippin’s age was Degger. Merry’s visits would now be much shorter, as his father was trying to spend as much time with his son as he could while teaching him the basics of being Master of Buckland and of Brandy Hall.

“I think kicking the ball around in the garden is a splendid idea,” said the adult voice at the head of the table.

Pippin looked over to his father, who smiled back at his son. “Right--a game of foot-ball does sound fun.”

“There are plenty of lads present and I think you all should take advantage of the relatively fair weather outside while you can,” said Paladin, the 'farmer' in him ever present. "It looks like it might rain a bit later on." 

With a baffled expression on his face, Degger asked, “How do you play foot-ball?”

“You mean you’ve never played foot-ball?” asked Freddy.

Degger shook his head. He didn’t tell Mr. Freddy that when he was growing up, he was busy helping to put bread on the table and had no time to learn games that other lads took for granted.

Sometime later six lads were assembled on the north lawn of Great Smials awaiting the final players; Freddy and his cousin Ferdibrand. Freddy suggested that Ferdie play to even out the teams. Team One had Pippin, Frodo, Merry, and Degger. Team Two consisted of Reggie, Everard, and the last two players. As they waited, the low grey clouds that promised rain delivered it in the form of a light mist. Lads being lads, they thought it would only add to their enjoyment.

Freddy, hands in his pockets, sauntered a bit behind his cousin wearing a wry grin as they met up with the teams. “Ferdie’s mum said he’s not to come home all muddied up.”

“Really?” asked Merry.

“I suppose that’ll be all right, won’t it, lads?” Everard spoke with genuine concern...and with an impish smirk.

“Not a speck of dirt!” said Pippin, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

What a decent lot, these lads, Degger thought to himself--all willin' t' help Mr. Ferdibrand t' not get muddy. 

~ ~ ~

“Kick it, Pippin!!” Frodo shouted to his young team mate.

Pippin gave the ball his hardest kick, but it sailed past the goal (a wheelbarrow turned onto its side) and missed the intended target. Instead, it struck Ferdibrand firmly on his bum when he swerved to avoid the ball. Unfortunately, at that same moment, Reggie and Freddy “accidentally” knocked down their team mate when they also tried to block the ball from going toward the wheelbarrow. Ferdibrand Took went down hard upon the soft, wet earth.

“That’s too bad, Ferdie!” laughed Pippin.

“So sorry, cousin,” said two somewhat apologetic lads.

Everyone was muddied from the fur on their feet up to the jackets they wore...except for Degger, who for some reason managed to escape the mad, muddy chaos. It didn’t last long though; Everard took note of Degger’s condition and remedied that with Merry’s help on the next play.

Finally, having had enough, Ferdibrand made a break for it, running up the garden path past the north wing. Realising he was running the wrong way (his family lived in the upper level of the west wing), he turned round but was met by a wall of six lads running behind him. Degger, always the reserved one, jogged behind the six assailants dribbling the ball with his feet. Ferdie didn’t retreat but five feet before he was tackled to the ground (yet again) on the eastern side of the north wing. In seconds, the lads were all laying about in a fit of giggles and laughter.

“You knew you had it coming!” stated Freddy, still holding his sides.

“Only because you told them about my mum!” Ferdie countered. He, too, was laughing though he knew he was going to get in trouble later.

The weather was turning colder, and Pippin felt a bit of a shiver run through him. He got up to get the blood moving again by kicking the ball between him and Degger. “Pass it to me,” said Pippin. Degger complied, and so they kicked the ball while the rest of the lads got their bearings and stood to their feet.

“How do you like the foot-ball game, Degger?” Pippin asked his friend.

“It’s fun,” Degger replied in a non-committal way.

“Let’s get back to our side of the garden, lads,” said Reggie. He had a gut feeling that something ominous was going to happen.

“Be quick!” shouted Pippin, giving the ball a sudden hard kick toward Degger.

Degger ran to intercept it, but missed. The ball hit the large round window on the lowest level of the north wing. The Thain’s side of the wing.

Pippin winced, hearing a distinct dull cracking of glass.

“Oh, no,” Frodo groaned.

They all stood frozen--in more ways than one--waiting for Cousin Ferumbras to come up to the window and start shouting at them. But nothing happened.

“Perhaps he isn’t home,” said Everard after a long, tense minute.

“Yes, he is,” said Ferdibrand. “He ought to be anyway. Cousin Ferumbras was supposed to play a game of skittles with my dad but cancelled because he still had his headache from yesterday.”

Frodo sighed. “Well, there’s nothing for it. Let us go inside and tell what we’ve done.”

* * *

Paladin covered his face with his hands and moaned as if he was in pain. “Please tell me you’ve made a mistake and accidentally broke the window in the upper level.”

“It’s my fault, Papa,” Pippin spoke quietly. “I’m the one who kicked the ball.”

“But I didn’t catch it,” offered Degger.

“I should have been keeping a closer eye on the younger ones,” said Frodo.

Paladin sighed. “And I am the one who encouraged you lads to go out of doors today.” He stood to his feet, “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

It didn’t take long for the group to walk the short distance between Paladin’s study and the private entrance of Cousin Ferumbras’ quarters. As the eldest and head of the group, Paladin knocked upon the large double doors while calling his cousin’s name. A few moments passed by before he repeated his effort...and still no answer.

“Ferumbras?” Paladin opened one of the doors in case his cousin didn’t hear him and took a peek. Not a soul in sight. “Hullo?”

Paladin turned back round to address the lads behind him and then noted that there were now only seven standing there instead of eight. Apparently, Ferdibrand was much like his father. No wonder Ferdinand and Ferumbras were friends--birds of a feather flock together, as it were.

“Reggie, come inside with me; Frodo, please stay out here with the younger lads.”

Together, Paladin and Reggie walked softly into the Thain’s apartment. They walked all the way to the north end to where his over-sized parlour was and looked inside. No one, although Paladin could see the crack in the window that the group of lads had confessed to.

Working their way back toward the door they came in, the pair decided to have a look in the Thain’s study. Again, no one was about. The place was so large that the pattering of their feet on the plush green mat echoed slightly against the hallway walls. Finally, they approached the bedchamber. Once again Paladin knocked before entering.

“Ferumbras?”

This time, they saw the familiar figure of the Thain slumped over on the floor beside his bed. Paladin rushed to his cousin’s side feeling for a pulse or a heart beat.

“Ferumbras! Are you awake?” Paladin turned the elder cousin over onto his back.

Ferumbras’ eyes were closed, saliva oozed out of one corner of his mouth, and the right side of his face drooped a bit lower than the left.

“He’s messed himself,” Reggie noted aloud.

“Aye,” said Paladin. Messing one’s self was often times a sign of death. “But he isn’t dead. I’ve seen this before--his father, Fortinbras, was struck with this same ailment shortly before he died. Help me get him onto the bed, if you please.”

Ferumbras didn’t prove to be too much of a burden for his cousins, however, a low grumbling moan escaped his lips when all was finished.

“Can you hear me, Ferumbras?” asked Paladin, hoping for some sort of response.

The only response Paladin received was a series of slurred, unintelligible sounds. Paladin motioned for Reggie to stand aside with him to discuss the situation. Another moan of seeming protest emitted from the prone hobbit on the bed when he perceived Paladin had moved away from the bed.

“He can’t be left alone like this, Reggie. Please go and get your father and any other Took elder you can find and tell them to meet me in my private study at once. Have Pippin and Degger run and fetch Mistress Besom, the healer--both of those lads know the Smials like the back of their hands and won’t get lost among the tunnels. Ask Frodo to meet me in here--hopefully, between the two of us, we can get our cousin cleaned up before the healer arrives. Tell the others, if they wish, they can sit and wait for news in my parlour. We can’t waste any time, Reg.”

The young hobbit nodded, “Yes, Uncle!”