A litle birthday offering for Dreamflower.

Summer 1454 SR

Rosie-lass closed her bedroom door and flopped into the wicker chair with the familair squashy blue cushions. She was absolutely exhausted but too elated to lie down yet, despite being awake all night. She had been sitting up with Salvia Hedges during her lung fever crisis, sponging her down, making sure she took the medicines and giving her enough fluid to keep her going. This was why she had become a healer, and Garnet had trusted her to do things properly. The feeling when the crisis passed and Salvia's fever broke was something which would stay with Rosie all her life. Six children would not be bereft and crying for their mother and Gardo would not have to bury his adored wife, and all because of her, Rosie Gamgee-Gardener! The feeling of giddy exhilaration made her want to dance round the room but she was too tired and contented herself with grinning widely as she remembered Salvia's weak smile of recognition earlier that morning. Now Garnet was keeping an eye on things while Rosie had a sleep and a bath.

       She shared the room with Goldie and Daisy since Ellie had moved out, carried away on the tide of matrimony and all things adult, but her sisters were not here at present. Goldie was helping out at the Hobbiton school and Daisy was out with Sam-dad, growing herbs as part of her contribution to Uncle Merry's book on herb-lore. Other than Frodo-lad she was the one with most interest in gardening, and Fro was over in Buckland, working with the Brockhouses on the gardens of Brandy Hall for six months. Sam felt the lad should not pick up all his father's bad habits and Merry was delighted to have the lad for a while.

       Rosie opened her clasped hand and looked down at the object resting in her palm. It was her healer's pendant, a large piece of polished but uncut rose quartz, made by Uncle Gimli in the Glittering Caves and presented to her by her beloved Uncle Frodo when she began her training. It responded to her perfectly and was always warm to the touch. Children seemed particularly comforted by it and she would allow her young patients to hold it, believing that it gave them strength. It hung from a simple strand of leather, although she wore a similar, smaller piece on a mithril chain round her neck.

       Half-asleep, Rosie remembered when she had experienced a crisis of her own - a crisis of confidence in her ability to be a healer. Just four months ago she had been at a birth with Garnet when Begonia Weaver's baby was born dead. She watched Garnet being calm and compassionate but she just froze. She was so used to her mother having babies easily and without problems that somehow it had not occurred to her that sometimes things went very wrong indeed. Thankfully she had recovered enough to help Garnet when Begonia started bleeding heavily, and they had worked for over an hour before they were satisfied that the mother would not follow her baby. Later Garnet had comforted a tearful Rosie and told her that such things were rare but they happened and sometimes no-one knew why.

       A week later, and with Hobbiton and Bywater in the grip of a measles epidemic Rosie was horrified to find herself watching young Barti Overhill, seventeen and as strong as an ox, die in front of her. She had never felt so helpless in her life. Doctor Porto said his kidneys and liver had failed; he swelled up with fluid and no amount of treatment helped. That morning she had slipped quietly into the study, buried her face in Uncle Fro's brocade waistcoat and sobbed out her grief. He calmly stroked her hair and made soothing noises but allowed her to cry, then offered her his handkerchief and dried her tears. She had always been able to take her troubles to him, with his soft voice and the comforting smell of lavender, clean linen, ink and pipeweed. He listened carefully to whatever she said and never talked down to her.

       "Why, Uncle Fro? He was so young - no older than our Ruby - and as fit as a flea. How could he just die like that? It's so unfair!"

             "I know, my sweet Rosebud. Life is sometimes very unfair and sometimes our loved ones go when we least expect it. Sometimes measles does that. Look how ill Robin was only two weeks ago - we could have lost him too. You and Porto and Garnet did everything you could to save poor Barti.He did not die from lack of care, but sometimes people die no matter what we do to try and save them. You can't save every life, my dearie, much as you want to."

       "I don't know if I want to do this any more. It hurts so much."

       "It will hurt. The day you lose a patient and don't feel some pain will be the day to stop. Aragorn says he still feels great grief and helplessness when he loses a patient, and Lord Elrond told me the same thing. A good healer is compassionate and feels for people. I suspect as you grow older and more experienced you will learn to perhaps be a bit more philosophical about the ones who don't make it, but you will always feel sorrow. That will be couter-balanced by the joy when you make a difference and save someone - and there will be far more of those, I'm sure."

       "I don't know.................." Long, scholar's fingers cupped her chin and lifted it until she was looking into the brilliant blue eyes.

       "If healing is something you thought you might like to do then perhaps you are right. No-one ever said it would be easy; this is the road less travelled, Rosie-posie, and not everyone is suited to it. But if you feel in your heart that this is something you must do, than you will find the strength and the courage to face whatever challenges come your way. The Valar will help you when you need it."

       She looked into his face and saw not just her dearest Uncle Fro but the Ring-bearer, Iorhael the Beloved, who had faced the greatest challenge in Middle-earth because he had to. No-one else could have done it and no-one else wanted to. For one unguarded moment he allowed her to see what that had done to him, the numbing terror, the resolve, the willingness to sacrifice everything to save what was dearest to him.

       "Nothing I ever do will equal what you and Sam-dad did," she sniffed.

       "Every positive compassionate act is important in its own way, and when you save someone's life you'll know what a difference you can make. The Lady Galadriel once told me that even the smallest person can change the course of the future." He was simply Uncle Fro again, blue eyes twinkling. "Now why don't we go and find something to eat? I happen to know your Mum has made scones and there's cream and some of her black cherry jam." He took her hand and led her out into the quiet kitchen.

        Rosie smiled. I did make a difference today! she thought. I saved Salvia's life! And last week I delivered Lily Shortburrow's fifth child all by myself and it went well. I didn't even panic when the cord was draped round his neck. Garnet didn't have to do anything and she praised me at the end. Perhaps I can be a good healer after all.

       When her mother looked in an hour later Rosie-lass was fast asleep, a little smile on her face and the pendant still clasped in her hand.