3

Peregrin slept quietly a bit longer this time. He had just begun to stir and mutter when the Lord Aragorn arrived. I heard his footsteps so moved out of the doorway into the light to greet him.

“My lord,” I said, bowing slightly as I did so. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“They are dear to me, these pheriannath. Thank you for sending for me. What seems to be amiss with Peregrin? Bergil said something about his being troubled and unable to rest.”

“I am only a third year apprentice my lord. I am able to assist a great deal in the suturing and tending of wounds as well as full treatment of some minor ailments, though I’m allowed to report only what I observe, I am not yet allowed to offer a diagnosis, my lord. I am currently assigned to the Royal Quarters of the Houses of Healing, although those housed here have been more in need either of the skills of the master healers or those of the aids and first year apprentices. I have mostly run errands or produced a few of the tonics, infusions, poultices and other such medicaments that were tried to ease our patients.”

“But what of Pippin . . . Peregrin, lad? If you will, what have you observed?”

I blush a bit, realizing I’ve been babbling. “I . . . He is . . . he appears to be, that is, exhausted, my lord. Exhausted and troubled in his heart and mind, sir. That and he appears to have somehow injured the tops of his feet, my lord.”

Just then, Pippin’s own dream induced mutterings grew loud enough to be heard.

The lord nodded to me. “I think, from what you have said that I did well sending Bergil after a few items. Come. I will see for myself what troubles my friend.”

A shout came from the bed as we entered the darkened room. Pippin once more was anxiously glancing about, though not truly seeing his surroundings as he did not notice Lord Aragorn and me coming into the room. He turned to his cousin.

“Merry! Are you . . . Merry? You’ve not moved. Not moved a bit since I’ve laid down.”

Peregrin fumbled about to free his right hand from the bedclothes. He touched Meriadoc’s cheek, then felt about at his throat.

“You’re - You - you aren’t . . . You aren’t d . . . ?” Peregrin froze as he apparently had found his loved one’s pulse. A few seconds passed before he let out his breath and sank back into the bedding. “You aren’t dead.” This time it was a statement, not a question.

The lord stepped up to the bed, placing a hand on Pippin’s shoulder as he said his name aloud.

Pippin screeched, snapping his head around to see who had touched him. Eyes wide with fear, he managed to whisper, “Strider?”

“I’m sorry to have startled you so badly, Pippin,” the lord replied. He seemed to have more than one name, and a rather curious one it was at that.

“You’re . . . ah . . . you . . .” Pippin turned his head to look back at his sleeping kinsman. “That should have wakened Merry. It . . .” He looked back to the lord. “Why didn’t that wake up Merry, Strider? He’s not moved at all the whole time I’ve been here. Is he all right?”

“He was given something to help him sleep.”

Peregrin turned back to his cousin then nodded. “It worked, whatever it was they gave him.” He was grinning as he looked up at Lord Aragorn. “Works really well, I’d say. He’s not moved a bit. Slept the whole time I’ve been here. If he’s just sleeping and all, then why are you here, Strider? I thought you were staying out of the City for now?” His grin grew broader. “Do you need me? Need me for duty? I’m happy to . . .”

He had started to sit up, but with a gentle hand, the lord pushed him back upon the bed. Pippin looked confusedly from the large hand upon his chest, to the eyes of its owner, then back at the hand.

“But why then? If not for duty. It must be Merry then. Something is wrong with Merry!”

“No, Pippin. Merry is fine. My concern this moment is for you, my friend.”

The small face turned upward once again and the lord, with his thumb, softly stroked Peregrin’s face beneath his eyes.

“When did you last sleep, Pippin?”

“Well, I was asleep just a wee bit ago.” He looked down and away from his friend’s gaze. “I don’t think that’s what you’re meaning, is it, Strider?”

“No, it isn’t. When did you last sleep well, Pippin. Sleep for several hours undisturbed?”

The perian looked at his cousin, closed his eyes for a few moments, then opened them to look up into the darkness in a far corner of the room as though that would help him gather his thoughts.

“I . . . eh . . . It all seems so very long ago, Strider. Odd how time can do that. I think I slept the whole way here with Gandalf. I shouldn’t have needed any sleep for days. Yet . . .” He closed his eyes, sighing heavily before opening them again. “Yet as much as I can recall I’ve been weary the whole time I’ve been here. It all seems such a dreary long time, Strider. So long ago.”

“It is a trick of our minds, Pippin. It happens to us all when there are a great number of things happening all at once. This would be . . .” He paused to do the reckoning in his head. “This is your seventh night in the White City.”

“If you say so I’ll believe you, Strider.” Pippin gazed into the distance again. “I think I slept the first night, though not well as I remember having a bad dream. I don’t recall if I slept the second . . . Actually, I don’t remember much at all of that day or night except that the - the Nazgul appeared and - and Faramir - Faramir came to the city. I have no memory of that night nor of the next, for that matter. Everything is simply run together in gloom.”

The lad paused, closing his eyes, a pained look upon his face. Bergil had returned bearing a basin, a ewer that was steaming, some towels over one arm, and some bit of grey cloth draped over his other arm. We nodded to one another, then my attention was drawn back to Peregrin as he began to speak again.

“I - I didn’t sleep last night. I was on guard all that day and into the night,” he said. I noticed he had not spoken of the the dark day of Lord Faramir’s returning to the City wounded, nor of the day of the siege.

He turned to face Lord Aragorn. “You saw me. You saw Beregond and me at the doorway, guarding. You came and,” he turned to smile at his cousin, “you brought them all back.” He looked back at his friend, a smile brighter than any I had yet seen lighting his face. “You brought them all back to us, Strider.” The broad smile faded into a troubled frown. “I didn’t thank you. You saved Merry and I - I didn’t thank you. Forgive me, Strider.”

“I forgive you, my friend.” The lord smiled reassuringly while squeezing Peregrin’s shoulder. “What of the night before that, Pippin. Did you sleep the night before the night I helped Merry and the others?”

Peregrin closed his eyes tightly, turning his face away from us. I looked at the Lord Aragorn. Was he too befuddled in his thoughts? How could he not know of the events which occurred the night before that night he came to the Houses? But, as I looked at his face I realized that he asked purposefully of that night. He too had noted that the perian had passed over it earlier.

Pippin shivered. His eyes opened but seemed unfocused, nearly glassy in appearance. His voice was small and distant sounding.

“No. I didn’t sleep at all that night, nor the one before. No one slept that night. No one but . . . but the dead. I was in the Lord Steward’s chamber all that horrible day. He went away. He went and when he came back he had shrunk. He had grown old in an hour’s time. And I stood there as he aged before my eyes and his mind snapped and I could do nothing. People came and he sent them scurrying off. And still I . . . I couldn’t . . . there was nothing I could do. And he wept. He had belittled me, he had frightened me, he had ignored me completely, but I found I couldn’t bear to see him weep. So I spoke. I spoke the wrong words and brought no comfort.”

His eyes closed, tears leaking between the clenched lids. But they were few and short lived. Peregrin shook himself, once more stared off into the dark and continued his remembrances.

“Then he told those who came to go and burn. They ran from him. He told me to go and die in what way seemed best to me. I didn’t want to die. I went and fetched his servants. I didn’t know where we were going. I . . . I thought we were . . .” he turned his eyes to Lord Aragorn, yet I’m not sure he saw the lord as there was panic in his eyes and his voice. “I thought we were going to a place of healing not a place of . . . death. I ran. I had to find Gandalf as no one would listen to a halfling. I ran and . . . and . . .”

Suddenly Pippin’s voice changed. Small it sounded, as a little child’s who is terrified. His eyes were wide, seeing things other than the room around us.

“I can’t get my feet clean. I-I c-can’t get them c-clean. I’ve tried. I’ve tried. There were puddles, p-puddles everywh-where and I j-ust ran right through them. Through . . . it. And it’s still there.”

He blinked and grasped at the lord’s left arm.

“I can’t . . . they won’t feel clean. Th-th-they don’t feel . . . I’ve scrubbed them, I really have. I-I’ve tried and t-tried.”

“Pippin,” Lord Aragorn said firmly.

“They . . . I . . . not clean. N-not . . .”

“Pippin,” the lord said more firmly, “let me tend to your feet, my lad”

The stream of words from the perian stuttered to a stop. His expression changed from empty to startled to an angry glare. He jerked his feet up closer to his body.

“No! No, you c-can’t. No. No. They . . . they’re . . . no. You can’t t-touch th-them. No! I won’t let you! I . . .”

“Peregrin Took!” the lord said with a firmness that stopped short the panicked utterances. He grasped both sides of Peregrin’s head, holding it so the perian’s face looked directly at his own. But Peregrin’s eyes darted about.

“Peregrin Took, look at me!”

Panic filled eyes came to rest on the calm though stern eyes of Lord Aragorn, but the babbling began anew.

“You can’t, Str-Strider. You’ll be . . . They’re ruined. My feet are r-ruined . . . You’ll be r-ruined. No. No you . . No.”

The last word was whimpered.

“Pippin,” the lord said softly, with a great deal of care showing in his deep voice. “Don’t make me order you, Pippin.”

“Order?”

“What is over on that chair, Peregrin?”

The perian turned his head a bit to the right in order to look at the chair. “My livery,” he said softly.

“Your livery? Why do you have livery of the Tower Guard, Pippin?”

“I’m . . . I’m a soldier.”

“Yes, you are a soldier. What oath did you swear, Peregrin Took?”

Pippin began to mutter softly, under his breath while his eyes remained fixed upon his uniform. “ Here . . . I swear . . . service to Gondor . . .” His mind refreshed, he then spoke clearly, “I swore my service to Gondor and the L-Lord and Ste-Steward of the realm.”

“Good. Yes, Peregrin son of Paladin. And Denethor was that Steward. He was a steward only. He held the rule of Gondor for another.”

Peregrin turned his eyes to the Lord Aragorn, and so did Bergil and I. And it seemed the green gem upon his breast shone with a light of its own, and that a subtle gleam as of the precious metals of a crown glimmered upon the lord’s brow. I remembered Lord Faramir’s words upon his awakening.

*”My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?”*

“Forgive me,” Pippin’s voice came clearly to my ears, breaking the enchantment. He brought one of the Lord Aragorn’s hands to his lips and kissed it, as had his cousin when he was brought back from the darkness. “Forgive me, I . . . I forgot.” He closed his eyes as though a pain had come upon him. “All right. You can . . . you can . . . tend to my feet. You needn’t order me.”

Lord Aragorn turned to me. “Fetch that small table over there and set it at the foot of the bed.”

I did so and he motioned for Bergil to set the basin upon it. The lord then poured the steaming water into the basin. He began to raise the covers but hesitated a moment.

“Bergil, set the towels here on the bed,” he said. “Give the scarf to Parsow, please, then fetch the Warden here.”

The lad placed the towels on the bed, handed the length of grey fabric to me, bowed to Lord Aragorn, then left on his errand. I looked at the scarf, then looked up at the lord.

He smiled, then pulled the bedclothes back exposing Pippin’s scabbed and matted feet. The sight took his smile away, replacing it with a look of deep sorrow. “I’ve hardly ever seen Pippin without that scarf around his neck,” he said in a whisper. “It is most dear to him. I am certain he was told not to wear it while in uniform, but since he is out of his uniform,” he smiled and nodded at the clothing laying on the chair, “I think it would comfort him greatly to have it now. Just raise his head and place it about his neck.” Lord Aragorn placed a towel beneath Pippin’s left foot in readiness to begin washing it.

Peregrin had kept his eyes clenched closed, but they opened with surprise when I began to raise his head. I slipped the scarf over his curls, then moved my hand so as to be able to place it around the back of his neck and down over his shoulders. He smiled, mumbled his thanks, then closed his eyes. His hands crossed over his chest, each one feeling about for an end of the scarf, which when found was caressed and toyed with. I smiled. It was just the way he had toyed with the edge of his blanket earlier in the evening.

The now familiar fragrance of athelas wafted on the air.

“Athelas!” Pippin nearly shouted as he tried to sit up. At a nod from Lord Aragorn, I held him down. “No! I don’t need that. There isn’t enough. Strider, they said . . . last night they said that was all there was.” He looked up at me. “What if Merry and the others need it again?”

“More has been found, Pippin.” I placed his hands back upon his scarf patting them reassuringly. “We have had time to look in more areas of the City. More has been found.”

“But I don’t have The Black Breath. What good . . .” He lifted his head to look at Lord Aragorn at the foot of the bed. “What good will it do me?”

“Breathe Pippin,” was all he said.

Pippin took a deep breath then let it out. “But what good will . . .”

“Breathe Pippin.”

Pippin drew another deep breath. His head slowly lowered back onto his pillow. A smile grew on his lips.

“Green,” he sighed.

“Green?” I asked.

“Yes. If green were to have a smell of its own, it would be this. Green like new grass in the springtime. New leaves, new plants, new . . . new everything. Green like the Shire.” He once again breathed in as deeply as he could. “Green.”

Peregrin relaxed as he exhaled. His hands kept hold of his scarf but ceased their nervous grasping and toying with it.

A short time later Lord Aragorn spoke. “How does your left foot feel, Pippin?” he asked as he finished drying it with a soft towel.

“Hmm?” Pippin muttered as he stirred a bit. “What? Oh. My foot?” He wiggled his toes. “It feels better, Strider.” The small soldier smiled and kept wiggling his toes. “It feels much better! Thank you.”

Bergil arrived with the Warden of the Houses of Healing who went to stand beside the lord.

“You sent for me, my lord?”

“Yes.” Lord Aragorn replied quietly. “As you can see this perian, Peregrin Took, Guard of the Citadel and cousin to Meriadoc, has done harm to his feet. He ran through puddles of blood whilst seeking Mithrandir in order to save the life of the Lord Faramir. As I’m sure you are aware, it is a well known phenomenon for someone to afterward feel they cannot remove the blood from their skin. Peregrin told me he had been trying to clean his feet but could not. In doing so he scrubbed so hard he has bloodied his feet anew. One of your apprentices, Parsow,” he nodded in my direction, “noticed this. Knowing the pheriannath are friends of mine, he sent for me.”

The Warden nodded. “Will you be wrapping them, my lord?”

“No. Hobbits, that is perian, are unaccustomed to wearing anything upon their feet. I fear that wrappings will continue the feeling of something being on his feet that should not be there. I am hoping that my cleansing them with athelas infused water, then drying them thoroughly, will keep the phantom feeling from returning.”

The Warden nodded.

“Peregrin was . . .” Lord Aragorn paused. He seemed unsure of what to say, but soon continued. “Peregrin was exposed to the evil of the Lord of Mordor in a particularly personal manner before he came to Minas Tirith. He came to a city within sight of the Black Land itself, a city which was soon darkened by a foul fume and besieged by Sauron’s armies. Though he has not been touched by The Black Breath, I fear his condition to be similar. He is exhausted in body and spirit.” The lord looked over at Bergil and me. “I would like Parsow and Bergil to remain here through the night, if you are able to spare them. Peregrin is not to be awakened but is to be allowed to sleep until such time as he awakens on his own. I wish to have someone here so that Meriadoc does not disturb Peregrin when he awakens.”

The Warden looked at me with one eyebrow raised. I’m certain he was curious as to why the lord would request a third year apprentice healer be given this task. “It shall be as you desire, Lord Aragorn. Parsow, you will remain with the pheriannath until both have awakened, as will you, Bergil. When they have awakened, Bergil, you will see to any needs they have.”

“Yes, sir,” Bergil and I replied each with a bow of our head. He nodded in return then left the room. Bergil and I watched as Lord Aragorn finished washing Peregrin’s right foot.

“Bergil,” the lord said as he was drying Pippin’s foot. “I have asked you to stay as I know you and your father have become friends with Pippin.” He looked at me. “Parsow, you have shown great concern for Pippin by your careful observation of his condition. I feel it is only proper that you should continue to care for this particular patient and his cousin. You may keep each other company and if you should happen to nod off, I’m certain at least one of you will awaken when either of the hobbits do.” He smiled knowingly at us. It was obvious to me that he had sat through many a vigil. “I’m quite sure that Merry will wake up first. I trust you both to explain Pippin’s condition to him and reassure him that his cousin will be fine.”

Lord Aragorn dried his hands, then gently drew the blankets back over Pippin’s feet. He came beside Bergil and me, draping an arm over each of our shoulders. “I thank you both for your care of my friends. I will not forget either of you.”

With those words, and a last glance at the pheriannath, rather I should say hobbits, sleeping in the bed, Lord Aragorn left the room.

Bergil pulled a chair up beside Pippin. I took mine to the opposite side of the bed to sit beside Merry. We settled down to begin our vigil.

“Tell me, Bergil,” I asked with a smile. “How did you come to meet Pippin?”