Lord Elrond ordered a draught for me, willow-bark and poppy and valerian and some other herbs. It was bitter, but not as foul as some of the draughts made up by hobbit healers. I drank it down without protest, my mind still numb from the news I had been given.

The poppy made me drowsy, and Lord Elrond placed his hand above my face, and sang some words in Sindarin, almost below his breath. I felt a pleasant warmth steal over me, and found myself cast once more into sleep.

When next I wakened, I knew I had not been so long a time sleeping as before-- a few hours perhaps, judging by the light and shadows. My stomach was unreliable; I was not at all hungry, as I remembered the news I'd been given. I shuddered.

"You are awake."

I had not even looked to see if anyone else was in the room with me, but I turned my head to see Thorn sitting next to me in the carved chair.

"Hullo," I said. "I'm glad to see you are alive." He was very pale, and I had never in my life seen his face so grave. "Are you well? The last time I saw you, I feared you were dead."

"Oh, Trotter! I am fine. I suffered no more than a knock on the head-- a very hard head, as everyone has been at pains to remind me. I am so sorry!"

"Sorry?" I asked, wondering why he apologised.

"It is my fault entirely that you are injured. You saved my life!"

"Well, of course I did!" I still was not sure why he was recriminating himself.

"But you would never have had to do so if I had listened to you in the first place. I will never forgive myself for having placed you in harm's way, nor in being the cause of all this." He bit his lip and gazed at me sadly.

I did not at once answer. I had not thought of blaming him, but he was right-- if he had not been so impulsive, I would not have had to save him. I could not think of what to say about it. Should I be angry? I did not know how to feel. "I am thirsty," I said instead.

He turned at once, and found a small tumbler on a table near the bedside. He poured out some water, and supported my head with one hand, as he held the cup to my lips with the other. I sipped the water gratefully, and tried to concentrate on how good it felt to assuage my thirst.

After I drank, I felt weary once more. I looked at my companion. "I'm glad you're alive, Thorn, and I'm glad you're here with me. But I don't feel much like talking; if you would just stay with me?"

He nodded, and began to smooth the curls from my forehead, as I had sometimes done for him when he was little and distressed. Soon a lassitude came over me, and I slept once more.

In fact, over the next several days, I was asleep more than I was awake. Sleeping meant I did not have to think or talk. My appetite returned, and the trays of food brought to me by the Elves were delicious. I found that I could concentrate on my food, trying to guess all the seasonings and ingredients by their flavour and smell. I rather missed having another hobbit to discuss it with-- Big Folk are not nearly so sensitive of taste and smell as are hobbits. Thorn listened without complaint, but he could not really enter into the game. But at least food was something besides my crippled feet to think about.

He rarely left my side, and when he did, I was often joined by either Elladan, Elrohir or Dirhael, who had also remained after sending the others back to Two Rivers with news of what had happened.

Lord Elrond checked the dressings on my feet daily, a procedure that began painfully, but once they were bared, he would place his hands above them, and seemed somehow to draw the pain away; after a welcome warmth, the pain receded. He had not yet allowed me to see them-- he kept the coverlet propped up so that I could not look at my feet. He also put some sort of unguent on them that deadened the pain once he replaced the bandages. After the first few days, he stopped giving me poppy-- he said he did not wish me to become dependent upon it.

About a week after I wakened the first time, Thorn came in after Lord Elrond had checked my feet and looked at me even more sadly than he had before.

"Trotter, I have to leave. My father says I must come back to Two Rivers and to the Rangers. I do not wish to leave you here, but you are still too gravely wounded to travel."

I was not as sorry to hear this as I should have been. I had forgiven him, and had told him so. But it seemed to have made no difference to him-- he no longer laughed, he would do anything I asked him to, and always his eyes on me were filled with guilt and sorrow-- making it hard for me to forget that he had every reason to blame himself. Yet I also knew that his folly, if folly it were, had not been intended to harm me. And folly often has a much harder result than it deserves. Yet somehow, I felt that this disaster would be the making of him.

I took his hand. "You must do your duty, Arathorn son of Arador. I am very glad that you lived to be able to go home. Please, give my love to your parents and grandparents, and to Oriel."

His eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them back. He bent over and embraced me, and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"Good-bye, Trotter."

"Good-bye, Thorn."

The day after he left, along with Dirhael, when Lord Elrond decided to change the bandages, I was finally allowed to see my feet.

They looked horrible! Bruised, discolored and misshapen, and the tops of them still scabbed over in places. Most of the hair was gone, and what was growing back looked more like stubble. I had never seen a hobbit foot that looked so dreadful, and I choked back a cry of dismay.

Lord Elrond looked up at me. "The colour will improve, Master Hildifons. The bruising has already faded somewhat, and I have to say, the bones are knitting more quickly than I expected. But we will continue to keep them immobile for a few days longer. I think that we are managing your pain well enough with mathad nestadren*. I would like to lessen your doses of willow-bark, as over time that can be damaging to the stomach. Once I am certain that the bones are well-knitted, we will begin massaging and exercising your feet, as well as your legs-- it will be a long time, however before you will be able to walk upon them."

I nodded apprehensively. I was so heartily sick of being bed-ridden, yet I knew the process of getting to my feet once more would be very painful.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked plaintively. "I think I'll go mad with nothing to do but to lie a-bed and think."

He smiled at me, and it quite transformed his austere face. "If you are feeling well enough to be bored, then I am sure you are on the mend. I will send some books from my library for you to read."

I was grateful. "I thank you very much then."

The next day, an Elf who told me his name was Erestor brought me a large stack of rather weighty volumes.

"These are some of our books in Westron," he said. "I think that you will find the ones on top of interest, as they concern the ancient Northern Kingdoms, and may even have some word of your own people in them."

I was quite pleased, and thanked him profusely. Indeed, I was very glad to read these, and to learn more of the history of the Dúnedain.

In addition to Lord Elrond, some days I was attended by Elrohir instead--he had stayed on, while Elladan had returned to Two Rivers with Thorn and Dirhael. I knew that he had only stayed for my sake, and I greatly appreciated it. Another Elven healer, Angul also came to work with me. It was he who began the exercises of flexing my legs and feet, raising and bending them, and it was he who one day came and measured me-- my height, the length from beneath my arms to my feet, and the length of my legs, and my feet themselves. When he was finished with me, I was exhausted and in pain. He looked at me sympathetically. "I think we will finish with cam echuir*." And then he did the same thing that Lord Elrond and Elrohir often did, drawing the pain away with his hands.

To take my mind off things, I asked him why he called it something different.

He smiled at me as he finished. "It's simple enough; I had a different teacher, and that is what he called it, my curious perian."

I had been bed-ridden for over a month now, and even reading was beginning to pall. I longed for something besides the four walls of my room however pleasant, and something, anything to do.

I was just finishing up a first breakfast of fruit and bread and tea when there was a rap on the door. Elrohir entered. "Do you feel like company?"

"I always welcome your presence, Elrohir," I said.

"Ah, but it's not of me that I speak," and he stood aside, and to my delight and astonishment, I saw Gandalf enter!

"Good day, Hildifons."

"Oh my!" was all I could think of to say.

Elrohir backed away and closed the door, leaving me alone with the wizard, who crossed the room and sat down next to me. "I understand you did something rather astonishing."

I looked at him and shrugged. "I did what I had to, to protect my friend," I said.

"You did indeed protect your friend, and you protected far more than that. I am uncommonly proud of you, Hildifons Took." He looked at me intently. "What are you going to do now?"

Trust Gandalf to ask me the uncomfortable question I had been trying to avoid for weeks.

I took refuge in another shrug, and looked away from his gaze. He said nothing, and the silence grew, until I burst out angrily, "What can I do, Gandalf? I am a hideous cripple!" I flung the blanket aside, so that he could see my feet.

He looked at them briefly, and then returned his gaze to my face. "I see scars of honour, Hildifons, like those borne by many of the Rangers who defend these lands. As to what you can do, you do have choices. Elrond has said that you might remain here in Rivendell, or when you are fit to travel, you may go back to Two Rivers where you have many good friends, or-- you might return at last to the Shire."

His last words hit me like a slap. My throat felt suddenly dry. Finally I manage to choke it out. "No. No, I can never go back now! I would not go back to be a burden to my family and an object of pity and gossip! I always thought I'd go back one day-- I always thought the Shire would be there for me-- but now, now I never can!"

"I do not think your family would find you a burden-- your father loves you very much, and the rest of them would be pleased to know you still live. But you are, perhaps correct about the pity and gossip of the rest of the Shire."

"Why did I never go home when I had the chance?" I groaned.

"If you had, Hildifons, who would have saved Thorn from his folly?"

I stared at him in astonishment, and then I felt a shudder pass through me. I took a deep breath. Suddenly my mind felt clearer than it had since my injury. I did not know what I would do now, but I felt ready to face my choices.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
*These Elven phrases were provided for me by friends who are generous with their knowledge. The first phrase, mathad nestadren was provided by SurgicalSteel and Pandemonium, and means "healing touch", and the second phrase, cam echuir, came from Jay of Lasgalen, and carries the same idea, but literally means "awakening hands". My thanks!