Sorting Things Out

The gardens for the Royal Wing of the Houses of Healing were actually an atrium with a covered walk surrounding it. The Company of the Ring, Parsow, along with Beregond and Bergil, went just beyond the balustrade and arches that separated the walk from the garden itself then everyone stopped and all eyes turned to Frodo. He looked back to the slightly opened door of Pippin’s room, only a few paces away, before he spoke.

Frodo turned to his cousin. “I think you should explain about Bandobard Took as you are the one who brought him into this.”

Merry looked at Frodo for several long moments before sighing and nodding his head. “As . . . well . . . As I’m sure you have all . . . You seem to know about him as well Frodo, why is that?”

“Bilbo is half Took, remember. We always knew a great deal of the Took’s affairs.”

“Ah, yes. That would be the case. Well, as I’m sure you’ve all reckoned, Cousin Bandobard had, still has I would say as we’ve not heard of his passing, has the falling sickness.”

Merry’s gaze went past Frodo to fix upon the fountain playing softly in the center of the garden, but his thoughts were in the Tooklands of the Shire.

“He was a playmate of Pippin's and mine when we were lads, he being between us in age. One summer he was just gone, just not around anywhere. He wasn’t at the birthday parties, not around on any Highday afternoons, just . . . not anywhere.” Merry drew a deep breath, held it a moment then huffed it out through his nose. “We went to his house, it wasn’t far from the Whitwell farm where Pip’s family lived, and his mum would always say he was busy, or gone with his dad somewhere, or . . . or ill.”

Merry brought his gaze back to the others. He glanced around at each one of them before settling on Frodo. “We got curious, Pippin and I, and you all know that can be a dangerous thing. Well, we started looking in at the windows and one day we . . . we saw him. We saw him have a fit, and we were scared to death and we thought he was going to die and we ran until we were out of breath and we never went back to ask after him.”

The last had poured out in a rush of breath and tears. Everyone listening could clearly see in their minds the youthful Merry and Pippin, kind hearted lads the both of them, frightened and hurting, running away from their cousin’s home. Those who had been there when Pippin was struck down by his fit now understood Merry’s reaction. Their hearts clenched within their chests.

Merry was sobbing as he spoke. “An . . . and now Pip . . . Pip will have to be shut - sniff - shut away like Bandy was. I-I was a-afraid that you were just going to . . . to not tell him. Not tell him plainly . . . or that you would . . .” He gasped in a hitching breath but kept going. “I could just hear you - sniff - explaining it in some way that he couldn’t understand. He needed to know what . . .”

Merry could go no further but turned to lean against Frodo, who immediately enfolded him in a warm embrace. Sam moved closer and began rubbing Merry’s back. They could all hear Merry’s muffled “I’m sorry” repeated over and over.

“I can understand that concern,” Gimli muttered. He received a glare from the Elf, the Wizard and the King.

Aragorn cleared his throat. “I would have done my best, Merry, to be clear and I’m quite certain with having . . . experienced seeing your cousin, it would not have been too difficult for Pippin to understand what I would have described. But, what is done is done.”

He went over to kneel down beside Merry, Frodo and Sam, laying his hand gently on the back of Merry’s head.

“I was also going to tell him about the things that can be done to help him.”

Merry’s head came up. He turned his red nosed, watery-eyed, tear-wet face to Strider. “And he didn’t get to hear that because I butted in.” He pushed back from Frodo’s embrace to look at his cousin. “We need to go in and tell him, Frodo. He needs to . . .” Merry turned back to the king. “How long will he need to be shut away, Strider?”

Strider had sensed the horror Merry had been feeling as he relived that part of the story of Bandobard Took, and he knew full well what a social being Peregrin Took was. He put as much comfort and reassurance into his voice as he could.

“No, Merry. Pippin will not be shut away. Not while he is here, nor when you all return home to The Shire.”

Merry turned to the Man and grabbed hold of his arm. “But Strider, you don’t understand. They . . . the hobbits . . . they will think he’s evil, or cursed. They will be afraid of him. Won’t let their children near him lest his curse fall on them, or he tries to harm them.”

His young friend’s pleading look and tone cut deeply. Strider looked down for a moment before returning his eyes to Merry’s. “You are right, Merry. I had forgotten. Yet, the hobbits are not fools. I think if Pippin accepts himself, if he goes amongst them with confidence, they will see it for what it is. It is an injury as much as his damaged hand, or your damaged arm, or Frodo’s missing finger. And that is where we all will be be able to help him. You three more so and you the most, Merry. We will need to help Peregrin believe in himself. It is the best analeptic, the best tonic, he can receive.”

Merry, Sam and Frodo were nodding, as was Parsow who was standing on the other side of the three hobbits.

“That is what will heal him most, both with the falling sickness and his other injuries,” Parsow said softly. “I have seen, as I am certain his majesty has as well, a patient with a lesser injury or disease languish, and sometimes perish, when another more seriously ailing recovers and does well. The only difference being not in the care they received but in how each viewed himself and, I would add to that, the love of family and friends.”

The hobbits looked from Parsow to Strider and the king nodded. “It is indeed so, my friends. Our Peregrin is usually of a cheerful nature. We need to help him keep his sunny disposition, to keep hold of his true self. Not to say he will not have times of discouragement, he most certainly shall, but if his heart is still gladsome, it will make a great difference.”

The hobbits looked at each other.

“I’ve heard it’s why husbands ‘n wives often pass soon after the first of them goes,” Sam sagely said.

“Yes,” Frodo said softly. “It was all that held me through my parents deaths. They had taught me to believe in myself, I . . . I had been raised in a cheerful, loving home, and then was taken in by Merry’s mother and father who also loved me. It does make a difference.”

Frodo paused a few moments as he sighed. Then he blushed, grinning an embarrassed grin. “And we have all done such a grand job of being encouraging of late. Mind you, we didn’t realize there was more going on than Pippin just being lazy, careless or inattentive. And we’ve all our own hurts and fears as well. Sam’s feet still pain him.”

Sam gave a start. He thought he had been hiding it well, especially from his master. Then he smiled. He should have know Mr. Frodo would notice.

“Merry has his right arm, I’ve my missing finger and we both have . . .” Frodo’s voice dropped, “the Darkness hovering in the back of our minds. We were expecting Pippin to be, well, to just be Pippin. We weren’t seeing that he was having problems of his own beyond his weak arm and hand.”

Merry was nodding in agreement to everything his older cousin was saying. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and said, “All right then. We need to go back in there and talk to him. He’s had little but frights and our being upset with him for several days. it is time to begin turning that around.” He paused and looked at Frodo. “You seem to understand what is happening just now better than I have, Frodo, do you think he’s had enough time to himself? Should we go in?”

Frodo nodded slowly as he thought for a few moments. “Yes, Merry, we should. But I’m thinking it would be best if it is only you, Sam, me and Gandalf who go in just now. He was horribly upset by this great lot of people, all dear friends mind you but still a lot of people, all standing about looking at him. After hearing what happened when two found out about Bandobard, you two staring in at the windows and all, I’m sure that is what it felt like to Pip. Now he was the one being watched.”

“I think you’re right Frodo,” Merry said.

Gandalf said nothing, though he was thinking a great deal. Frodo had turned his expressive blue eyes on him as he had spoken his name. The hobbit knew how much the wizard love him and Bilbo, but it was clear he knew there was something special between him and young Peregrin as well. It touched Gandalf’s heart to be included.

“I agree, Frodo,” Aragorn said. I think the rest of us should go to our respective homes and get some sleep. It is late,” he said, “well, early actually, and tomorrow will be better faced when rested. Parsow,” the healer-king looked at the young healer.

“Sire?”

“I will see you in the morning to begin working on the first medicine I wish to try with young Peregrin.”

“Yes, my lord.” Parsow bowed. “A good night to you all,” he said, bowing his head to the rest of Pippin’s friends, then left the garden. The others did the same as the hobbits and the wizard headed for Pippin’s room.

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Pippin heard them leave the room. At least, it seemed they all had left. Slowly he peered over the top edge of his scarf to look around the room. He sighed with relief - he was alone.

But the relief he felt was small, nearly insignificant. His heart still raced, his thoughts still churned . . . “like cousin Bandobard Took” Merry had said. His horrified thoughts took him back to that summer in the Tookland.

He and Merry had stood frozen in place, their eyes just over the top of the window sill, watching as their playmate flopped about on the floor like a fish freshly yanked from the water. Frothy spittle had oozed from his lips as he thrashed about, and all his mother had done was move a foot stool aside as though she were afraid Bandy’s writhing might break it. Finally, the fit slowed and whatever gruesome sort of curiosity had held Merry and him at the window left them and they ran away as fast as they could.

Later, a few days later actually when they had worked up the nerve, they asked his mum about it. His mum is a healer and they thought she would know best what was happening to their friend.

“I’m sorry you saw that, my dear lads,” she had said whilst shaking her head sadly. “I don’t really know what to say to you. I’ve seen it before. It comes out of nowhere to strike folk down. Some say it’s a curse. Something that befalls someone who has done wicked things or angered an evil spirit, though,” she looked at each of the lads, “I doubt very much that Bandy has done aught that was wicked, nor angered some evil thing.”

He had sat there scarcely breathing. The three of them, he, Merry and Bandy, had played in the burial plot on the Whitwell farm the autumn before. They were showing off for each other, proving they were brave. Might that have done this to Bandy?

“I don’t think it is from any such thing, my dears,” His mum had hastened to assure them. “I don’t know what it is but, I think something just goes wrong with the body’s essence and it becomes uncontrolled. Even so, it is a frightening thing and the poor hobbit is usually kept away from folks, as they have done with Bandobard.”

He and Merry never saw Bandy again.

Pippin’s mind came back to the here and now, to a room in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. He was far from home, far from his family, but this thing had taken hold of him anyway. Perhaps it was because he was far from home? He had surely been angering evil beings of late and now one of them, maybe even some remaining shred of the Dark Lord himself, had taken hold of him. And why wouldn’t it be so? Hadn’t he managed to say nothing to Him whilst looking in the palantir?

Suddenly, even curled upon the bed inside this vast city as he was, Pippin felt too exposed. He needed to hide. He looked about the room, his eyes finally settling on the curtains that flanked the window. There had been curtains in the library at Great Smials, very much like these curtains, that he had hid behind often as a lad. He slowly eased himself out of the bed, clutching one of the pillows with his good arm, then swiftly crossed the room to huddle behind the security of the heavy curtains. He hugged the pillow between his chest and his drawn up legs. After awhile, Pippin fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frodo led the way as he nudged open the door to Pippin’s room and went inside. He, Merry, Sam and, lastly, Gandalf, stepped into the dimly lit room. It did not take long for them to realize that Pippin was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s gone!” Sam breathed out. “I tried keepin’ an eye on the door, in case he wanted us and called out, or tried to leave. He didn’t come out, I’d swear to it.”

Frodo’s voice was tense and higher in pitch than usual. “I’m . . . I’m sure he didn’t Sam, and you did well to watch. Gandalf?” He looked around in the gloom for the wizard.

“Here Frodo.”

The room grew brighter. Gandalf had lit the large lamp on the table along the wall to the right of the door.

Strangely, Merry didn’t panic. He was finally being more his old self and was standing in the middle of the room thinking.

“He was frightened,” he said quietly. “And being stared at . . .” Merry started to slowly turn about. “I think he might be hiding somewhere.” He went to the wardrobe. The door was ajar, but when he opened it Pippin was not there.

“We’ll help you find him, Mr. Merry,” Sam said, more loudly than Merry had been talking, and he bent to look under the large bed.

Merry thought of his little cousin hiding behind the curtains in the library at the Smials and turned to go over to the window when a small strangled sound came from behind one of the long, heavy, curtains.

Pippin had awakened to find himself someplace dark. The air around him was musty and overly warm, making it hard to breathe. He faintly heard a voice saying, “We’ll . . . find him . . .”

He couldn’t move! He couldn’t breathe properly! It was dark!

Troll!

He was under the troll, slowly dying, and no one knew where he was. He tried to cry out, but only a whimper escaped his lips. He tried to move but was tangled in something. Pippin cried out more and squirmed as much as he could.

There was a squirming, keening bulge at the foot of the curtain. It had to be Pippin. Merry started forward, but was stopped. Gandalf was holding the three hobbits back with his outstretched arms.

Something stirred in his mind. The wizard saw in a flash himself and Pippin flying over the ground to the beat of Shadowfax’s hooves. Pippin, all curious questions one moment then shivering with fear the next, pressing tightly against Gandalf’s chest and cuddling into his arms for safety.

“I’ll see to the lad,” he whispered to Merry, Frodo and Sam. “If he should struggle, better someone strong has hold of him. You three go back to the house and get some rest as Aragorn suggested. I’ll see to the lad.”

Reluctantly, the hobbits left the room, but only as far as the benches in the garden. They did not wish to be too far away from Pippin.