Better or Worse?

The new medicine was almost sweet, almost tart and Pippin smiled after swallowing it down. Things were off to a good start.

For the first day, there was no apparent change in Pippin’s condition. He had about the same number of small spells, ten to fifteen longer bad spells and one of the longer ones left him feeling wrung out. The next day there were fewer of each, but he had a fit in the evening between dinner and supper. Three days into using the new medicine and the changes were noticeable; less than ten long spells and considerably fewer small ones.

But other changes arrived as well.

The fourth day the hobbits decided to visit the large market in the first circle of the White City, heading out after second breakfast.

“Excuse me.” Pippin said as he lurched against Merry for the third time. “Sorry, Merry. My legs don’t seem to be connected to the rest of me the right way this morning. Maybe I slept on them oddly.”

“It’s all right, Pip. Perhaps if I walk a little slower?”

“No. I think I’ll be fine.”

Soon, Pippin was walking as though he had a few too many ales in him. He kept knocking things off of the vendor’s displays either by cutting corners too sharply or putting his hands out suddenly to catch his balance. They stopped at a pastry shop that had small tables where customers could sit and eat their purchases, and the light repast seemed to help. Pippin was fine until elevenses, but as the morning wore on the clumsiness returned.

“Could we head back?” Pippin asked after banging his hip rather soundly against a bin of oranges. He was rubbing the sore spot with his good hand and looking rather weary.

“I’ll go back with you, Pippin,” Frodo spoke up, taking hold of Pippin’s right arm as he said it. “I’m feeling a bit tired as well. Sam, Merry. You two make a nice day of it and we’ll have dinner ready for you when you get back.” With that he started to steer Pippin back up the hill.

Pippin eyed his cousin carefully. He didn’t want to feel he was taking Frodo away from an enjoyable day of rambling. But no, Frodo did look tired. Pippin sighed with relief. He was becoming increasingly irked at feeling like he was being a burden.

Frodo had been obeserving his young cousin carefully. There had been no blank spells at all that Frodo had noticed, but he was surprised at how much Pippin needed to lean on him. Pippin was very unsteady.

The youngster slept a good part of the afternoon and when he did make it into the kitchen, he still seemed tired and unusually clumsy. He went to bed early, complaining of a headache. Frodo and the others told Parsow about their time in the market place, and he himself had seen Pippin moving about that evening looking as though he’d had too much to drink. Every one assured the healer that Pippin had drunk no ale or wine. Parsow wrote everything down in the diary he had started keeping on Pippin’s condition.

The next day Pippin had duty at the Citadel. He took a quick bath with Frodo in attendance. All his baths were quick these days. It was annoying to have someone minding him so much of the time.

“You have duty today, don’t you, Pippin?” Frodo inquired, trying to distract the lad a bit.

“No, I always try to be in the bath an hour before first breakfast. I would have thought you’d have noticed that by now, Frodo. You notice everything else.”

The acid in Pippin’s tone, added to the sarcastic words, ended any further attempts at conversation.

Later that morning, Sir Peregrin Took was already in place beside and a little behind King Elessar’s throne when the King arrived and took his seat. Strider had noticed, as he approached, that his small knight had an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. Throughout the morning, he would feel Peregrin bumping into the massive chair, and once, the hobbit even grabbed the King’s sleeve to steady himself. But his knight was alert and attentive; there had been no indications of blank spells.

It was as the noon hour drew near that the King’s scribe stood from his desk and approached King Elessar to speak into his ear.

“My lord?”

“Yes, Dinnian?”

“Sir Peregrin is looking pale, sire, and he has been increasingly unsteady on his feet. Just now, a light sweat has broken out upon his upper lip. I fear he is not well.”

The King nodded. He had informed all of his staff of the hobbit knight’s condition and instructed them to inform him at once if they noted anything that concerned them. Peregrin was well liked and the staff was happy to assist in caring for him.

“Sir Peregrin?”

“My lord?” Pippin replied, stepping around to face the king as he did so. Strider could see for himself now, the lad didn’t look at all well.

“You may be excused for your noon meal, Peregrin, and return to duty for first watch tomorrow.”

Pippin looked surprised. He was supposed to be at his post all day this day. But even as he looked surprised, he swayed a bit, put his hand to his mouth and ran from the Great Hall via the nearest doorway. A moment later, he could be heard retching.

As the stomach spasms continued, Pippin felt a large, cool hand upon his brow and a comforting hand upon his back. When he was finished, Strider offered him a handkerchief.

“Have you been getting sick to your stomach before this, Pippin?”

“No, I . . .” Pippin bit back the snide remark that nearly left his lips. His head ached, his legs were wobbly and his stomach was churning. Worse, he wanted to let everyone around him know just how upset he was feeling.

“No, Strider,” he said as calmly as he could muster. “No, just now. My stomach has been fine until now. Maybe I should have eaten . . .” Pippin paused. Just thinking of eating made his stomach roll. He swallowed then went on. “Thank you for giving me the afternoon off. I think the headache I have maybe upsetting my stomach.”

Strider helped his friend to his feet. “You have a bad headache, Pippin?”

Pippin nodded. He was feeling nauseated again, and the nodding hadn’t helped his head.

“Have you had a headache before this. I mean since we changed your medicine?”

“Yes. Yesterday. Can I go now?”

Aragorn’s eyebrow raised. Peregrin’s tone was sharp, not at all the proper way for him to address his king whilst in his livery and not typical for the hobbit in any situation.

“Yes, Peregrin. You may go and you are relieved of duty for the rest of the day.”

Without a nod of the head or a bow, as would be proper, Pippin muttered his thanks and tottered off.

Aragorn immediately sent word to the Houses of Healing. Parsow needed to know what had just happened.

That afternoon, at tea, Parsow was seated at the large table in the kitchen of the house the Companions of the Ring shared. He had his diary on Pippin with him.

“Well, this confirms what we thought might happen with this particular blend of herbs.” Parsow looked around the table. Everyone was there except Pippin. “We have been pleased. Thus far there are good indications that the spells and fits have been either drastically reduced, or possibly eliminated. However, it is now also clear that the herbs are having other effects on Pippin.”

“The walkin’ like he’s slightly drunk?” asked Sam.

“Bad headaches?” added Merry.

“And an upset stomach,” put in Frodo.

“I also noticed, yesterday in the early evening before he retired,” Legolas thoughtfully added, “that Peregrin seemed a bit slow to respond to things around him as an intoxicated person might do. It was not at all like his blank spells. Not even the shorter ones.”

Parsow nodded. “You are all observing him well. Yes, those are the things his majesty and I were thinking might occur.”

“I think you and Aragorn were right not to tell us ahead what to be watching for.” Gimli was nodding his approval as he spoke. “The wee lad hasn’t been well since that troll landed on him and ‘twould be easy to have thought we were seeing what we weren’t.” He paused as he looked the young healer sternly in the eye. “What would you have us do to help?”

“You’ll be changing his medicine, won’t you?” Merry quickly added.

A full minute passed, or it seemed that long a time, before the healer answered.

“No, Merry. We aren’t going to change the medication.”

Merry, and the others were crestfallen.

Parsow continued. “We are pleased with the results . . .” he held up his hand as he saw several of them take a breath to speak. “We are pleased with the results this medication has had on Pippin’s spells and fits, despite the other problems it is causing.”

Those who had started to interrupt sat back a bit. No one around the table looked pleased.

“It is to be hoped that, as he becomes acclimated to the current elixir, these other unpleasant symptoms will diminish or even disappear altogether. In the meantime, I will be giving him some black horehound which will hopefully ease the nausea.”

“Will you be telling Pippin any of this, Parsow, or is he to be left in the dark again?”

All eyes turned to Merry. He sat, unmoving, fingers tented before his mouth, staring straight ahead. He had spoken the words quietly yet they had carried great weight. Everyone turned to look at Parsow; everyone except Merry who continued to stare at the wall.

“Yes,” Parsow replied firmly. “The King and I both agreed that Pippin needs to be told now that it is no longer supposition on our parts in regard to the difficulties the herbs in his medication might have produced. They are producing these other conditions and he needs to know why he is feeling as he is.”

Pippin was told the next morning, along with the information that he would not be on duty that day.

He rose from his chair to stand stiffly beside it. “Anything else? Perhaps you would like to tell me I shall break out in boils? Pimples perhaps?” Pippin’s voice grew louder. “Or bloating. How about bloating? Everyone is always saying I’m too thin. And the fates forbid I should ever stand duty again. Next time I just might puke all over His Royal Striderness. Can’t have that, can we!”

He stopped. His hands were clenched at his sides, or at least his left hand was. His face was red. Pippin picked up his medicine cup and held it aloft.

“Here’s to keeping Pippin sick!” he loudly proclaimed before tossing the mixture down his throat. He slammed the cup down then stomped toward the garden door. “I’m leaving. I’m taking a walk. And woe be to any of you that comes tagging along behind me if I should happen to catch you at it.”

They watched him stumble down the garden path then out the gate, slamming it to behind him.

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A/N: I do not know that the new medicine would actually start taking effect this quickly. I know some modern medicines can take 6 weeks or more to reach their maximum effect. But this is a story and time needs to move a bit more quickly. :-) If any of you know our time frame to be a little absurd, please forgive us.