A/N: I just want to once again say that Golden and I are doing our best to have this be believable and accurate. While we are taking some license with Pippin’s various conditions to accommodate the story, we hope we are not taking too much. I recently was made aware that the “blank spells” we’ve been giving to Pippin are not “absence” seizures as I think I mentioned earlier in another a/n, but are more what are now called “complex partial” seizures. I’m certain Aragorn would not have had such a term available to him :-) My apologies to anyone this may have upset or confused.

Starting with the end of this chapter, we are delving into the world of medications for epilepsy. Modern antiseizure medicines are not anything that would have been available in Middle-earth. I have been researching herbal medicine to find those herbs that have a history of use in treating epilepsy. I don’t know that I’ll use the names of any more than one particular herb that will come into the story later. I will say here that if I use the names, please don’t take how I’m describing their combinations or concentrations as factual. All that will be factual is that those herbs named have been used to treat epilepsy in past times - and some are still being used currently by holistic healers. I’m not willing to take the time to research the proper combinations, the proper doses, nor the correct side effects. I’ll be taking literary license with all of that. But, the side effects that we will be using are indeed side effects those receiving medication for epilepsy do face. We may have Pip face more of them than is typical, or combinations that aren’t exactly typical, but all of the side effects are ones that can happen.

Golden and I once more thank all of you who are reading our story.

Pearl Took

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Down a New Path

Parsow set the bottle and cup on the small table beside the side of the bed nearest to Pippin, then he went to the other side of the bed and sat in a chair. The king sat upon the bed next to his small knight.

“Good morning, Strider,” Pippin said cheerily. He nodded toward the items on the table. “Is that my medicine, Strider?”

Strider smiled back at Pippin while actually looking him over carefully. The lad’s colour was all right, a little wan but that was to be expected. His smile was somewhat over enthusiastic, but his eyes were clear with a touch of Pippin’s usual sparkle in them. The king reached over to unbutton the first few buttons on his patient’s nightshirt.

“Medicine, Peregrin? Why ever should I be bringing you any medicine?” he asked jokingly, then placed his ear to the hobbit’s chest. He listened for a few moments. “Breathe for me Pippin.”

“Because I’ve been told that you said you could help me.”

“I said breathe not talk, Pippin.”

Pippin drew in a loud, purposely noisy breath then let it out just as noisily. “There I breathed. If you didn’t wish me to speak then you shouldn’t have asked questions, Strider. It really does lead to someone answering if you ask questions.”

“Breathe again,” was all the response Pippin received as Aragorn moved his ear to another place on Pippin’s chest. This time his patient merely did as he was told.

“Again.”

Strider leaned Pippin forward and put his ear to his back.

“Breathe.”

“Again.”

Aragorn took his head away from Pippin’s back as he reached for his left wrist. He found the pulse, counted in his mind, then smiled as he let Pippin’s arm drop.

“A point well made and taken, sir knight. I will endeavor to remember that for future examinations. Parsow?”

“My lord?”

“Make a note of that. You should remember it too. No questions if you aren’t actually wanting an immediate response.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Everyone, including Pippin, laughed. Parsow could feel that it helped them all to relax.

“Yes, Pippin. That is your medicine,” Aragorn said as he buttoned Pip’s nightshirt back up, his expression becoming serious as he did so. “What exactly have you been told?”

“Gandalf said that you didn’t get to say all you wished to when you were here before and that there is something that can be done to help me.” Pippin’s eyes widened as he saw a guarded look come into Strider’s eyes. He hastened to add, “Not that you can cure me! No, he was quite clear that there . . .”

The lad paused to swallow but at that moment the light went out of his eyes. Pippin blinked slowly and seemed to chew at the inside of his cheek a few moments. Strider and the others waited patiently, then Pippin once more was looking at his king and friend.

“Gandalf said you can help me but that you can’t cure me.” Pip’s voice softened, his face fell into a worried frown. “He said there is no cure. Not even the Elves can cure the . . . this.”

Strider patted Pippin’s right hand, thinking for a moment that it was ironic that the right was the one which was closest; a caring touch being given to another place where the young hobbit needed comforting.

“He told you correctly, Pippin,” he said gently. “There is no cure. But there are medicaments which can lessen the spells and fits. Lessen both how often they occur and how severe they are.”

Pippin said nothing for a few moments, he simply stared at the bottle and cup on the table, but it was not a blank spell, he was thinking.

“How did this happen?” he whispered. “W-why did this happen?” Pippin looked up into Strider’s eyes. “Is it because I’m related to B-Bandobard? Though, he got it as a youngster and I’m nearly of age and I’ve not heard of any of my closer relatives or ancestors having the . . . the . . .” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “The falling sickness,” he said, then let the rest of the breath out in a rushing sigh. It was the first time he had used the name.

The king sighed. This was the part of the story that he was not looking forward to relating. But Aragorn was a true and noble man. A king in heart and spirit. It had been paining him that he had so badly let slip caring for his young knight.

Pippin had opened his eyes again and Strider looked full into them. “It is a result of your being trapped beneath the troll, Pippin. Because you lay beneath that foul beast for several hours barely drawing enough breath to keep you from death. You lay there while the battle was finished around you, and more time yet whilst your companions searched for you. I feared that it would come upon you but said nothing to anyone except Parsow and Gandalf, not wanting you or the others to see signs of the ailment when it might not be there at all. We had all intended to keep a close watch over you, but allowed ourselves to become busy with other tasks.”

Strider looked deeper into the hobbit’s eyes. He could sense the trembling fear in Pippin’s spirit.

“This should not have happened, Peregrin Took. We all did you a great disservice. I the worst of all since I am both your healer and your liege. I bore a responsibility to you, both as your friend and as your king. I failed at both. I had Parsow made a full healer in these houses forgetting it would steal away time from his care of you. I kept Gandalf busy in the archives finding information for me that others could have as easily found. I hold myself responsible that your condition was allowed to become so dire. I beg of you your forgiveness.”

Aragorn allowed himself to slip from the bed to be on his knees beside it. He bowed his head, awaiting Peregrin’s response.

The other hobbits were watching their kinsman intently. Would Pippin panic again? Would he collapse into sobs and tears? Would he become angry? Would he, as the Pippin they had know from his birth, cheerfully forgive?

After a few moments, Pippin leaned forward to kiss the top of Strider’s head. Tears ran past the small, tightlipped grin that graced his face. In a tender reversal of a gesture so often used to comfort him, Pippin ran the good fingers of his right hand through the man’s hair before lowering his hand to rest on Strider’s.

“Of course I forgive you,” Pippin’s voice quavered. “Wouldn’t I forgive Merry, or Frodo, or Sam? Wouldn’t I forgive my family? You are as dear to me as they are, Strider. How could I not forgive when you obviously feel horrible about it all?”

Pippin sniffed as his smile grew full.

“Now quit being so dramatic and get off your knees. You have to tell me what you plan to do and how it is going to help me.”

The King of Gondor rose, as did the spirits of all in the room. It was a relief to them all that Pippin had behaved so much like his old self and that he had forgiven Strider. Strider sat on the edge of the bed as he had before.

“Well, let me see, where should I start? The falling sickness has long been known amongst Men. It can simply befall a person or can appear after an injury to the brain. Sometimes, though this is most common in infants who do not easily come through their birthing, it can be brought about by not being able to breathe properly for too long a time. It is an odd circumstance for such an injury to occur to an older child or adult as the lack of air more usually kills them.”

Strider paused to see how well Pippin was taking all of this. It was not pleasant to hear, nor did he want the lad to miss any of it due to one of his blank spells. Pippin was nodding.

“I know Gimli thought I was dead at first. That I looked dead and felt cool to the touch, and that it was only because Legolas could sense the life in me that they hurried me to the healer’s tents.”

Aragorn was proud of his knight. Pippin was handling himself with a great deal of maturity.

“Yes. We all owe a great deal to them both. Does that answer the how and at least some of the why for you, Peregrin?”

But the lad didn’t answer, he was gone again, and for a more lengthy time than was usual. The others waited for him to return from wherever it was his mind went during his blank spells.

Aragorn repeated his question.

“Yes. I couldn’t get enough air to breathe and it was because I chose to stab a troll and let it fall on me.” Pippin grinned weakly. “Did I have one of those blank spells just now? I suddenly feel more weary than I did.”

“Yes, Pippin. It is a good thing that you thought of that. I think it will be good for you to have a way of your own to tell you have had one. I don’t expect that to happen every time, as some won’t be strong enough to tire you as much. But at least you are using what you’ve been told to reason out what you are experiencing.”

“The fits will leave you quite exhausted. The blank spells will sometimes have no after effects or will leave you weary, perhaps dizzy and confused when they last longer than a few seconds.”

Pippin sighed and nodded. “All right. That’s some of what they can do to me, what are you planning on doing to them?”

“The Men of Numenor were at one time very wise and powerful, learning much about the world around us and about how we ourselves function. There were many things we learned how to ease or cure. Lord Elrond, being half Man and half Elf, took an interest in the diseases and ailments of Men. He has used many of his long years learning even more than we did ourselves.”

Aragorn sighed and looked for a moment to the West. There lay much of his own past and much of his future. His thoughts strayed for a moment to Arwen and his fear that she would yet not be his to wed. The White Tree still had shown no sign of life.

He shook himself. “Elrond taught me much about many things, healing amongst them, as you know.” Strider picked up the bottle and cup. “There are herbs that can be helpful in treating the falling sickness. They all work best when in concert with other herbs or each other. It also makes a difference how they are prepared and how they are taken. It will take trying different combinations and preparations, perhaps many, to discover what will work most effectively for you, Pippin. And, in most instances, we will need to give the new medicine at least a fortnight of use before deciding if it is working properly or not.”

Strider paused. He had arrived at a part of this talk that he wasn’t looking forward to. He did not want to have the hobbits once more feeling as though they were being treated as too childlike or too naive to handle the details of Pippin’s condition. He was surprised and relieved when Parsow spoke up.

“There will also quite likely be other results from your taking these medicines, Pippin. They most certainly should have some effect on your spells and fits, but they may effect other things as well. However . . .” Parsow looked each of the hobbits in the eye. “although it may seem wrong to do so, as when we did not tell you what to look for to identify the falling sickness itself, it is best that we not tell you, especially you Pippin, about the other things that might or might not occur.”

Merry leaned toward Frodo. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this,” he whispered, though it was loud enough to be heard.

Frodo was shaking his head. “I agree. Strider,” he said more loudly as he looked over at their friend. “Why should you leave us in the dark again? Hasn’t there been enough trouble from not letting us know of your concerns and fears?”

It was Parsow who answered. He was trying to take the focus off of the king, after all, he had been as much a part of these decisions as had his majesty.

“That is why this time we are telling you all that there are things we aren’t telling you. We are, this time, letting you know to observe Pippin. That is what we should have done before. But again, if we tell you exactly what to look for, you, and even more so Pippin himself, might see these things when they are not actually there.” He held up his hand to stave off their anticipated responses. “It is a true and oft seen problem, my friends. You would not do it intentionally, but it is all too common to see what you are told you might see, especially when some of the changes can be subtle.”

The room went quiet. Frodo, Sam, and Merry stood and stepped toward the bed. At a nod from Frodo, Aragorn stood, going to stand beside Parsow’s chair. All the hobbits conferred amongst themselves; this time so quietly neither man could hear distinctly what was being said. When they finished, Frodo spoke for the group.

“All right, Parsow, Strider. We agree to this on one condition.”

“What will that be?” Parsow replied.

“That you, Parsow, will come and spend time with us each day in the morning and the evening as part of your regular schedule as a healer. And that you will both be available to us when called upon.”

The Ring Bearer looked intently at both men. “You have both admitted that lack of time spent with us was part of the problem before, and we all have admitted to each other just now that we were hesitant to trouble either of you, or Gandalf, because we knew you were all busy. If we know Parsow will be here everyday and that if something happens with Pippin that makes any of us feel concerned we are able to speak with you, then we will feel everything is in hand.”

“That is fair and most reasonable, Frodo,” Aragorn said. He walked back to the bed, sitting next to Pippin once more. “It shall be put into writing, signed and witnessed. A promise between us all, and all who serve in the Citadel shall know that all of you are to be granted access to me as needed, at any time.” He turned to Pippin. “We have chosen to begin with a mild concoction, Peregrin. You are to take it twice a day, as will most likely be the schedule for all the medicaments we will be trying.”

Strider began to pour a greenish liquid from the bottle to the small cup. Pippin had noticed before that the cup was clear glass. He now noticed that there were markings on one side of it.

“Frodo, Merry and Sam,” Strider said as he carefully watched the level of the liquid rise in the cup, stopping when it reached a mark about two thirds of the way up from the bottom. “This much.” He held it out for the hobbits to see. “This much in the morning after first breakfast and in the evening after supper.”

The three hobbits all nodded.

“Merry I know you are interested in herb lore and are most often with Pippin. Sam, you are an excellent cook and accustomed to measuring of ingredients. I will be trusting the mixing of this elixir to you two. Parsow will show you how to properly combine the powdered herbs into the liquid. It is best that two of you learn as someone will need to prepare whatever medicament is finally settled upon once you are all home.”

“Yes, Strider,” said Merry.

“As you wish, Strider,” Sam said, less steadily than the Brandybuck had. He knew he was good at measuring and mixing when it came to cooking, but this was something different in his mind. “I’ll do my very best,sir.”

The king smiled at Sam’s return to formal address. “You’ll do just fine, Sam.”

He handed the small cup to Pippin, who took it and held it up to the light from the window, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Ah well,” the lad said. He took a deep breath, let it out, then tossed the drink down his throat. Pippin’s eyes went wide. He choked a bit, then smiled weakly. “I’ve tasted worse,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Everyone gathered round and hugged or patted the youngster . . . he was on his way to finding a path for living his life as best he could.