Chapter 17. A Long-Expected Party

Even before he was fully awake, Haldoron knew at once that he was no longer in the little dell on the western flank of Weathertop. For one thing, he was lying down on a soft surface, much softer than the grass where they'd set up camp could account for. For another, he was warm, not with the warmth of his cloak or the Sun but feeling more like the weight of several blankets on a bed. The pillow under his head confirmed his first impression.

Perhaps the oddest sensation was a feeling that brought back to him the memory of holding his small son's hand, long ago and far away.

The Man jerked as a young voice called from quite close nearby, 'I think he's wakening!'

He heard a deeper rumble, not as close by but coming closer, and then a hand came to rest on his forehead. Was that the smell of athelas in the air?

Athelas... Something about athelas... There was something he felt he ought to remember, but it eluded him.

'Haldoron? Do you hear me?'

'Taurion?' the Ranger-guide said, lifting his hand to intercept the large, warm palm still resting on his forehead.

'Good. You are awake.'

'That's what I said!' the young voice declared – the Gamgee lad?

'Pip?' Haldoron murmured.

But the lad was shouting now. 'Ferdi! Farry! Robin! He's awake!'

'Hush now, lad, you could waken the dead with that shouting!' Taurion scolded.

'Are you telling me I'm dead?' Haldoron said wryly, opening his eyes. But as he tried to sit up, his head pounded and bright flashes of light obscured his vision. Unable to suppress a groan, he closed his eyes and sank back down on the bed. 'Or did you mean to warn me that I'd wish I were dead?' he muttered.

'Let that be a lesson to you,' the Northern Guardsman said. 'I'm no healer, but you looked pretty near dead when we came to see why you hadn't arrived for breakfast as planned. We knew something had to be wrong because you were travelling with Hobbits!'

'And Hobbits never miss a meal if it's in their power not to do so,' Ferdi drawled. From the sound of his voice, he was now standing next to the bed where Haldoron lay.

The Ranger-guide turned his head cautiously and cracked open one eye. 'Ferdibrand,' he whispered. 'The Black Breath...'

'I'm well!' the Hobbit reassured him. 'Why, you're much worse off than I ever was!'

'I beg to differ,' Haldoron said, turning his head on the pillow until he was facing the ceiling once more. 'Guardpost?'

'We carried you here from Weathertop,' Taurion said, 'the youngsters and I.'

'Youngsters...' Haldoron mumbled, trying to envision two Hobbit teens helping to carry him here.

'One had gone out with a message – Berenaith, fairly recently assigned here, so I doubt you'd know him – but Dorondir, Calendil and Thalion are here. I swear, Haldor, the new recruits keep getting younger all the time.'

'Athelas,' Haldoron muttered.

'That was Calendil – for all his youth, he has the gift to the greatest extent of those posted here. He says you're lucky to be alive.'

'Could have used him at Weathertop,' Haldoron said.

'He also said that if you'd tried to carry me to the post to find help, or if you'd gone to the post yourself and brought him back, I might have died. And so I thank you for taking the course you did,' Ferdi said.

'You're welcome.'

'Have you noticed, Robbie, how polite Big Men can be?' Ferdi said in his airiest tone. 'And well-spoken! Why, the exact word...'

'I could use a few less words from you at the moment,' Haldoron said.

'Wouldn't that be "few fewer words"?' Ferdi queried, whilst the younger Hobbits chortled. 'But no, I can see that though it might be grammatical, the proper phrase would be quite cumbersome to voice.'

'A little less voicing on your part would be welcome about now...' Haldoron said, and then he opened his eyes and half-sat up, bolstered by Taurion. 'And how is it, Master Took, that you are up and about – and so disgustingly cheerful! – so soon after a recurrence of the Black Breath so nearly swept you away? Why, you ought to be in bed for a week, at least, regaining your strength!'

'A week!' Ferdi said in dismay. 'Guard your tongue, lest you should bite it!'

'Didn't Elessar tell you?' Pip said, sounding shocked.

'Tell me what, young Hobbit?' the Ranger-guide said, fixing the Gamgee lad with a stern eye.

'Master Merry was fit to get up, at least for a short while, the day after he slew the Witch-king, and he was able to walk a little in the care of his friends!'

'I know that Hobbits are hardy folk...' Haldoron began.

'Master Merry got up the next day,' the young Gamgee said stubbornly, 'while Captain Faramir and Lady Éowyn remained in the Houses of Healing for days! In fact, Strider told the Warden that Lady Éowyn should not be allowed to get up and depart for ten days, at least, or so the Red Book says! And yet she was out of bed in four days...'

'Very Tookish of her,' Ferdi said. 'I can see why we made her an honorary Took.'

'But not her husband?' Haldoron said, bemused.

'I believe the Thain and Master reached an understanding of some sort (it might have something to do with the awkwardness of two Tooks named "Faramir" in the same place and time, should they come together), and so Prince Faramir was adopted by the Brandybucks – with his agreement, of course! And as the Master's own father was a Brandybuck who married a Took, why, there is precedent for such a thing, unusual as it might seem...' 

With Taurion's aid, Haldoron sat up the rest of the way and swung his legs out of the bed. He winced at the light shining in through the window of the bunkroom – though some of his discomfort might have come from the cheers of the younger Hobbits at this sign of his recovery, for Taurion not-so-subtly asked Ferdi to take his young charges out to check on the preparations for the daymeal.

Haldoron sighed in relief as relative quiet descended. '...fit to waken the dead,' he muttered.

'Which you were – close enough, as it were. You'd used yourself up, all your strength and too much of your will. You left Calendil with little enough to work with...'

'And Ferdibrand?' Haldoron said, worry stirring again. 'How much did he have to spend on the Hobbit?'

'None at all,' Taurion said. 'For he was well on his way to recovering when we reached you. While he no doubt benefited from the athelas Calendil brewed for your benefit, he was awake when we arrived, and he was – astonishing as it might seem – on his feet soon after. He wouldn't leave your side, even walked beside you as we carried you here, holding tight to your hand...'

'Hobbit healing,' Haldoron said, nodding thanks as Taurion lifted his undertunic over his head and helped him find an elusive armhole.

'I remember Aragorn mentioning something of that, when old Bilbo shared our campfire,' Taurion agreed. 'And so when Calendil would have shooed the Hobbits away, I countered his commands.'

'I've been surrounded by Hobbits?' Haldoron asked wryly, then shrugged. 'But what else is new? It seems to be my lot in life these days.' 

Taurion helped him with the rest of his dressing, as if he might be a knight's page or noble's bodyservant. When Haldoron would have protested, the older Man cut him off, saying, 'Save your strength for more important matters. Such as keeping those young Hobbits in line. They've stuck their noses into everything in the short time they've been here...' As he spoke, Taurion was easing Haldoron's stockings over his feet, followed by his leggings, ending with the Ranger-guide's boots, high but hardly polished, being made of supple leather. Someone had cleaned them of the mud and grime of travel, and Haldoron raised an eyebrow at Taurion.

'Got to give the youngsters something to do to keep them out of mischief,' the older Guardsman said, and this time he wasn't talking about the young Hobbits that were currently underfoot.

Haldoron stood up, pulled up his leggings, and sighed. 'Just the tunic,' he said, 'and I'll no longer feel naked to the world...'

Taurion's lips twitched, but he nodded as he helped Haldoron with this last piece of clothing. 'Clean, too,' he said. 'I set the lads to cleaning your kit while you were abed.'

Haldoron made a show of examining his arms and abdomen. 'What?' he said. 'After all the effort I've put in to achieve the grime of an authentic Ranger of the North? What is the world coming to! Now I must begin again from scratch!'

'At least you won't be scratching from the itching of accumulated filth,' Taurion muttered under his breath, drawing a laugh from his old friend. 'And your odour won't overpower the aroma of a well-crafted daymeal – for with Hobbits' assistance, we can look forward to a feast!'

'Daymeal...' Haldoron echoed, awake enough by now to seize on the word. 'I've slept the entire day through?'

'Three days,' Taurion corrected, laying a hand on the Ranger-guide's shoulder.

'Three...' Haldoron echoed, stunned.

'You used yourself up, my friend,' Taurion said. 'As I told you earlier, though I doubt any of my words stuck in your mind but fell out of your ears soon after landing. Another good night's sleep, and we'll talk about you being on your way...' 

Haldoron would have protested, but he had to admit to himself that walking from the bunkroom to the main room, with its table and benches, had taken some concentration on his part to keep from wobbling, even with Taurion's unobtrusive help. He was not at his best, at least when it came to travelling. At least his legs worked well enough to carry him to his seat on the chair at one end of the long table, which was set for five diners, with a place for Haldoron at his end and preparations for four others showing, one at the other end (where Taurion would most likely seat himself, at the "head" of the table, as it were, being in command of this outpost) and three along one of the long sides of the table.

The other bench was serving as a table and was set with places for four more diners, while four saddles had been laid in a line on the well-swept wooden floor alongside the bench. Haldoron nodded to himself; sitting sideways on the saddles, with folded blankets underneath to lift their seats higher, Hobbits could dine in relative comfort and even converse with the Men sitting at the table opposite them.

Not long after Haldoron sat down, Ferdibrand and the three young hobbits spilled into the room, buoyed on waves of laughter, along with three striplings dressed as Northern Guardsmen, or so they seemed to Haldoron. Taurion was right; the new recruits are getting younger all the time, he thought.

Or maybe he was just getting older. That was the most likely explanation, he thought dismally.

But it was difficult to remain dour under the onslaught of good cheer and plentiful food and merriment.

Haldoron was aware that one of the young Guardsmen, entering with a heavy platter of sliced meats, scrutinised him closely. This must be Calendil, whom Taurion had described as endowed with more than the usual measure of the healing gift. He nodded his appreciation and received a nod in reply. The visiting Ranger was also grateful that the topic of his health and recovery seemed to be set aside, at least for the moment.

The young Guardsmen laid their platters of food upon the table. The four Hobbits bore loaded plates which they laid down at their places on the waiting bench. Then Haldoron pushed himself to his feet as the Guardsmen and the rest of their guests turned and faced west. After observing a moment of silence, all of the diners took their seats, signalling the beginning of the feast – for the meal resembled a feast much more than an ordinary, everyday daymeal.

Knowing Hobbits, Haldoron was sure that a system was already in place – established, no doubt, while he slept and recovered from his healing efforts – for those voracious eaters to refill their plates with seconds and thirds and more, as needed, so long as the food held out. And considering the quantities of food piled on the platters parading down the centre of the long table, it appeared that the food was sufficient to hold out for quite a while.

'Did you use up all your supplies on us?' Haldoron said. 'Or did the King send extra provisions, knowing I'd be bringing Hobbits with me?'

'Both and neither!' Taurion said.

'An answer worthy of Bilbo himself,' Haldoron said.

'So you did listen to the old hobbit's stories when he shared our campfire!' his old friend said, pointing an accusing finger in Haldoron's direction. 'But I sent the youngsters out hunting a few days before you were due, and they went up into the hills and brought back two deer and several braces of ducks to supplement the storeroom. While the King did send along extra provisions, we haven't made so much of a dent in them as we might've...'

Plates were emptied and filled again on the parts of the Men and Hobbits sharing the meal, and questions and stories flew thick and fast amid mouthfuls of food and draughts of beer (and icy springwater, for Haldoron's part, since he was still recovering). As it turned out, by the time the meal was finished and it was time for the washing up, even with four Hobbits sharing the daymeal, there had been plenty of food and drink for all. 

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Author's note: Some turns of phrase were inspired by 'The Window on the West' and 'The Houses of Healing' in The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

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