6. Sudden Reversals

Pippin struggled along after Sam, but the bucket he carried was too heavy and he kept sloshing water over the sides without meaning to.  He was concentrating so hard on not spilling the water he almost ran into the legs of Daddy Twofoot.

Pippin looked around, confused.  All of a sudden there were hobbits everywhere, all rushing in the same direction Pippin was.  He lost sight of Sam, but went doggedly on with his bucket.

Marigold suddenly brushed by him, and Pippin tried not to spill water on her skirts.

“Oh, Hob!” she cried.  Pippin followed in her wake and emerged in front of Number Three, Bagshot Row.

“I’ll take that, little fellow,” someone said, and Pippin let him take the bucket.  He might have felt annoyed at being called ‘little,’ but numerous distractions soon presented themselves.

Marigold had flung herself into the grass beside Hob and held the little lad close, sobbing.  Hob started crying too, and hiccoughing and gasping about how scared he was, and how sorry that he’d knocked over the lamp, and he was sure he’d be burnt up.

But Pippin had eyes only for Daddy Twofoot, bending over a figure that lay unmoving in the grass.

“Frodo!” Pippin screamed.  He heard Sam gasp and come running up behind him.

“Oh, Mr. Frodo!” Sam cried, falling to his knees beside their friend.

Pippin dropped down on Frodo’s opposite side and began to cry.

“Now, lads, he’s still breathin’,” Daddy Twofoot reassured them hastily.  “I’ve sent for the doctor, he’ll be along any moment.”

Pippin wouldn’t be consoled and continued to sob. He heard folks shouting things, but he didn’t pay much attention.  Distantly he heard someone cry, “the fire’s out!” followed by a ragged cheer.  He wondered where Merry was, and then suddenly Merry was there.

“He’ll be fine, Pippin, you stop that crying,” Merry said.  His voice shook, but he put his arms around Pippin and it began to seem like things might be all right.

“Oh, Mr. Frodo!” Sam kept saying, and after hesitating briefly he began to smooth Frodo’s dark curls out of his dirty face.

Pippin gulped and tried to calm himself.  He watched Frodo’s chest and was somewhat reassured by the regular movement up and down.

“The doctor’s here!” someone said.  “Make way for the doctor!”

“Very well, very well, who is injured?” said a kind voice that Pippin didn’t know.  “Were you in the fire, young fellow?” he said to Hob.

“He was, but Mr. Frodo is hurt worse, you must see him first,” Marigold said, her voice wavering as she hugged Hob tighter.

Merry pulled Pippin aside as Dr. Hornblower approached.  “My goodness!” the elderly hobbit exclaimed in concern.  “Step back, please.  The boy needs space.”   His tone brooked no argument, and the crowd of hobbits that had gathered drew back. 

Pippin watched anxiously as the doctor, looking quite grave, opened Frodo’s slack mouth and peered inside.  He pressed an ear to his chest and muttered “Come on, lad.”  He tapped Frodo on the cheek a few times and suddenly Frodo coughed.  Pippin’s fists clenched as Frodo wheezed, then coughed some more and opened dazed blue eyes.

A cheer went up among the surrounding hobbits.  Pippin started crying again, this time in relief, and Merry’s arms tightened around him.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Pip,” Merry whispered so quietly that Pippin barely heard him.

Frodo was blinking and muttering in confusion as Dr. Hornblower helped him to sit up.  “How do you feel, son?” the doctor asked kindly.

“Dizzy,” Frodo said hoarsely, after staring at Dr. Hornblower for a moment, clearly disoriented.

The doctor frowned some more.  “Do you know who I am, Frodo?” he asked.  “Do you remember what happened?”

“You’re Dr. Hornblower,” Frodo replied.  “There… there was a fire.  I went to look for Hob.”  Frodo suddenly sat up straight, looking worried.  “Did I find him?  Is he out of the fire?”

“You got him, all right,” Dr. Hornblower soothed.  “He’s right over there.  Now you sit here quietly while I have a look at the little one, and then we’ll get you settled, all right?”

Merry, Pippin, and Samwise sat with Frodo while Dr. Hornblower looked Hob over.  To everyone’s relief, Hob was fine; he had no burns and had not breathed in much smoke, thanks to Frodo getting him out as quick as he had.

“Keep an eye on him just the same,” the doctor advised Marigold.  “Problems can show up later on, in cases like these.  And he needs to rest away from the smoke; your smial will need to be thoroughly aired out before it will be habitable.”

Many folks spoke up at that, offering to help.  “Aye, count me in,” said a grown-up Pippin didn’t know.  “We’ll not get it sorted tonight, though.  I been in there just now and a layer o’ soot covers everything.”

Marigold looked ready to cry again at this, but Frodo, obviously feeling more alert, spoke up.   “All of you must come up to Bag End, as long as you need,” he said hoarsely.

“Oh, Mr. Frodo, we couldn’t impose like that,” Marigold said fretfully.

“I insist,” Frodo said in a tone that brooked no argument. 

“Thankee, then, sir,” Marigold murmured, ducking her head.

“Someone oughter tell May and Daisy,” Sam spoke up from his place at Frodo’s side.  Someone went to do so, and the crowd began to disperse, with many promises to return at first light for the cleanup.  Dr. Hornblower remained, saying he wanted a further look at Frodo.

“Can you walk, Frodo?” Merry murmured to his cousin.

“Yes, I should think so.”  But when they began to help him to his feet, Frodo gasped and sat abruptly back down, hissing in pain.

“What is it, Mr. Frodo?” Sam cried.  “Are you hurt?”

Dr. Hornblower crouched back down and quickly looked over his patient.  “He’s burnt the soles of his feet,” he said grimly.  “There are some burns on his lower legs and arms, as well.”

“How did you burn your feet, Frodo?” Merry asked.

“I tried to jump over a rug that was smouldering, to get to Hob, and didn’t quite make it,” Frodo explained wryly.  Pippin noticed some of the remaining neighbours had stopped to listen and were murmuring to each other, clearly impressed by Frodo’s bravery.  Pippin felt a burst of pride in his elder cousin.  Frodo realized folks were looking at him then, and stopped speaking, confused and embarrassed.

Marigold impulsively flung her arms around Frodo’s neck and exclaimed, “You dear boy!  Thankee, thankee for saving Hob!”

Frodo turned bright red, and chose that moment to have another coughing fit.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Marigold said, subsiding into a blushing silence. 

Dr. Hornblower smiled fondly at his patient, and Pippin realized he had probably known Frodo for many years, ever since he had come to live with Bilbo.  “Let’s get both these lads up the Hill, then,” he said briskly.  “Frodo’s burns need treatment, and they should both be resting quietly.”

Merry started to go to Frodo’s side, but Sam was already there, helping to lift a protesting Frodo over Daddy Twofoot’s broad shoulder.  Merry and Sam had a brief staring match, but then Merry looked away, abashed.  “Come on, Pippin,” he said.  “Let’s run ahead and get things ready.  We’re going to have a lot of company, and Frodo will need us to play host.”

Pippin followed on Merry’s heels and they had Frodo’s bed turned down and fresh clothes laid out by the time Frodo was brought in.  Pippin watched as Frodo changed and got settled in bed, then stood back so the doctor could enter.  Sam waited respectfully in the hall, but Merry came forward and, with a maturity Pippin rarely saw him display lately, asked Dr. Hornblower to explain exactly what should be done for Frodo.  The doctor showed Merry how apply the salve he’d brought and cover Frodo’s burns with clean linen, while Frodo looked on, bemused.

“Now look, young fellow,” Dr. Hornblower addressed his patient when they had finished.  “I want you off your feet at least till I come back to check on you tomorrow. I’ve bandaged your burns and I’ll leave some extra salve to put on in the morning, but I don’t want you up and about.”  Frodo looked about to protest, but the elder hobbit shook his head.  “I don’t like the sound of that hoarseness you’ve still got, either.   You had a fair amount of soot in your throat, which tells me you breathed in a good deal more smoke than would leave me at ease.  There could be lung damage, but we mightn’t see signs of that for some time.”

Frodo frowned at that, and Pippin went to hold his cousin’s hand.  He noticed suddenly that Frodo’s cerulean eyes were red-rimmed and tearing.  “Are you all right, Cousin Frodo?” he whispered.

“Don’t worry, Pip, the smoke stung my eyes is all,” Frodo said with a reassuring squeeze of the younger hobbit’s hand.  “I’m really feeling much better.”

“Let’s be cheerful,” Doctor Hornblower said with a smile.  “You got yourself and little Hob out of a nasty situation, and we can all be grateful for that.”  He gathered his things up and looked round at Pippin.  “Now you, young fellow, have a special job to do.”

“I do?” Pippin asked nervously.

Doctor Hornblower nodded.  “Your job is to keep an eye on your Cousin Frodo here, and if he looks to be getting out of bed, you must make him get back in!”

Pippin smiled.

“Do you think you can do that?”

Pippin nodded seriously.

“Good lad,” Dr. Hornblower said.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.  In a way it’s lucky most folks are at the Fair now; there hasn’t been as much demand for my services, even without Jessi here to help me.”

After the doctor left, Merry herded Pippin out of Frodo’s room so their cousin could rest.  Sam was sitting in the hall, but he scrambled to his feet quickly.

“How’s Mr. Frodo?” he asked anxiously.

“He’s going to be all right,” Merry replied.  “We’re to keep him off his feet till tomorrow at least.”

Sam nodded, relaxing a little.  “Then I’d best help the lasses bring up what clothes and such we can rescue down Bagshot Row.”

“Pip and I will start making up beds,” Merry replied, hoping no one noticed the quaver in his voice.

“Oh boy, company!” said Pippin, and did a little skip of excitement as he ran ahead.

“Please don’t put yourselves out, Mr. Merry,” Sam said uncomfortably.  “We feel bad enough imposin’ as it is.  Just point us where you’d like us ta kip, and we’ll do the work.”

“Sam… “ Merry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Aye?” Sam said curiously when Merry didn’t continue.

Merry shook his head.  “Nothing.  Never mind.  You go ahead.”  He watched Sam walk away.

“There you are, Merry.”  Pippin bounded back to Merry’s side.  “Come on, we’ve beds to make up!”

Merry smiled half-heartedly.  “You’ve never been so happy about housework before, Pip,” he pointed out.

Pippin rolled his eyes.  “What’s not to be happy about?  Frodo’s going to be all right, and we’re having company!”

TBC

A/N:  I put the A/N at the end because I figure I’ve kept you waiting long enough for this chapter!  ;)  The amount of time it’s taken me to update, and generally between most chapters of this fic, is pretty unforgivable.  I know when I’m reading a fic and months go by between updates, I get pretty frustrated!  All I can say is I’m sorry, and I will try to do better.  You’re going to get a bunch of quick updates, though, because I wrote this chapter and the next, and part of the one after that, on a train trip this past weekend to visit a friend.  :-)