Chapter 23. ...and Lost, Again

’Freddy,’ a voice whispered, a caress on his tortured ears.

’No,’ he moaned, moving his head away. ‘No,’ he said again. The wizard was up to his tricks again, making him think he heard his mother’s voice. The pleasant dream would seem to be reality, to the point where he could open his eyes and see a whitewashed ceiling above him, feel the touch of gentle hands, taste wholesome food in his mouth... then the room would go dark, the soft voices turn to harsh jeers, pain would assail him and his mouth would be filled with dust.

’Freddy,’ his mother said, a little more demanding. How did his mother come to be here? O yes, he remembered. It was the wizard’s trick. She was not here, but they were trying to get him to say his name.

’Number Seventy-four,’ he mumbled, and heard her gasp, and a catch in her breathing as if she were weeping.

’That’s all over now, Mr Freddy,’ he heard Budgie say. This brought him to full alertness, for Budgie should not be there.

’Budgie!’ he whispered, though his throat was raw and sore. ‘Budgie, how do you come to be here? You’ve got to go back, get back in your cell, before they find you and beat Robin and Beech!’

’It’s all right—‘ Budgie began, but Freddy, opening his eyes with difficulty, focused on him. Reaching with his left hand, he grasped Budgie by the shirt.

’I don’t think Robin can stand any more!’ he said frantically. ‘He’ll die, Budgie, die...’ He lay back on the bed, his grip on Budgie’s shirt loosening, his hand falling limp to the bed. ‘Die,’ he whispered. ‘Why won’t you let me die? Please.’

His mother gasped again and began to plead, and he heard a voice like Frodo’s saying, ‘Freddy...’ but it was drowned out by the wizard’s kindly tones.

It’s not time for you to die, yet, young rebel. You won’t die here in the Lockholes, o no, that would be precipitous of you, indeed. When I see that you are failing, I shall send word to your parents, that they may fetch you home.

’Home,’ Freddy echoed. He wished for home, for the release it promised, even if the pain should be worse than what he felt now.

’Yes, my love,’ Rosamunda said, ‘We’ll take you home again.’

’No,’ Frodo warned, but the wizard spoke again.

Yes, home, the smooth Voice repeated. But I fear to tell you that they will take you home to die in the bosom of your family, for that is the least kindness I can do for you. I am so sorry to say it will be a painful death. Such a tragedy, for them to watch you gasping out your last moments writhing in agony, but better, I suppose than their never knowing what became of you.

’Better,’ Freddy echoed. How many times would the wizard tell him this, before deciding to send him home?

’Are you feeling better, lad?’ Finch said quietly. Freddy had had a blurred vision of his face as pain scored his hand, and now he recoiled.

’Please,’ he said, ‘no more, please.’

’It’s all gone, Freddy, all over and done,’ Finch said, but Freddy continued to shrink away. His hand burned like fire and throbbed and felt altogether—there were no words to describe it.

’Number Seventy-four,’ he gasped again. Perhaps they wouldn’t hurt him so badly if he were obedient and tractable.

’The ruffians are gone, lad,’ his father said. Was this the dream? Or was his father there in truth? Might it be that the wizard had decided his time had come and sent for his parents? He opened his eyes, to see a familiar whitewashed rounded ceiling, not the Lockholes after all.

’Am I home?’ he asked, confused.

’No!’ Frodo said urgently, but his mother broke in, soothing his forehead with her cool, gentle fingers.

’Not yet, Freddy,’ she said. ‘We’re not home yet. We’re at Farmer Cotton’s, do you remember?’

Not yet. Freddy sighed and reached up with his left hand, to envelop Rosamunda’s fingers in his grasp. He wondered how he would ever manage to say goodbye. ‘I love you, Mother,’ he said softly and then he let the world slide away again.

***

’I’m sorry,’ Finch said later, in the kitchen. He was sipping, not a cup of tea, but something stronger, Farmer Cotton’s private stock of hard cider fermented from his own apples. ‘I thought he was strong enough, and I knew the job would only be harder the longer we left it. ‘Tis easier to correct when half-healed, after all.’

’How could you know?’ Odovacar said sadly. ‘None of us has ever dealt with this sort of thing before.’

’I pray none of us will ever have to deal with this sort of thing again,’ Anise Grubb said, sipping her own cup of cider. Tea somehow would not fit the bill.

’Will he recover?’ Odo asked. ‘Will we ever be able to take him home?’

Finch was silent a long while.

’Well?’ Odo said. Rosamunda was not there to take part in the discussion; she’d refused to leave Freddy’s side after the hand and fingers had been splinted. Frodo stayed with Freddy, as well. Samwise had brought his master a tray when he could not be coaxed away even for long enough to eat breakfast.

’I don’t know,’ Finch said softly. ‘That... that dratted wizard filled their heads full of nonsense. The ones who were worst injured were less able to fight. Our Robin...’ he shook his head. ‘We’re still fighting the battle with him.’

’What nonsense?’ Odo asked.

’O you know,’ Finch said in irritation. ‘That they would be taken home to die an agonising death.’ He stared into his empty cup, looking up to nod in thanks as Farmer Cotton silently refilled it. ‘We’re feeding Robin every hour, forcing the food in when he refuses it. We’re cosseting and cuddling him, singing him nursery songs and lullabies and never leaving him alone for a moment. I don’t know yet if we’ll save him.’ He wiped at his eye. ‘He’s all that’s left of my sister’s family, what got wiped out in the fever that went round a few years back. I don’t want to lose him too.’

’That’s what Frodo said,’ Odo whispered. ‘That Freddy was afraid to go home, that he might will himself to die if we took him back to Budge Hall.’

’That’s right,’ Finch said, and Budgie nodded.

’I keep thinking I’m going to fall ill,’ Budgie said. ‘But my old dad assures me I’m as healthy as I ever was, or will be that way if I just keep eating until the food comes out my ears.’

’O you’ll fall ill,’ Finch said, ‘with the normal things that happen to a body over a lifetime. Colds, maybe the grippe. Nobody’s well all the time. But the wizard’s words were lies, and you keep telling yourself that even when I’m not with you to remind you.’

’I do, Dad, and I will,’ Budgie promised.

’But—‘ Odo said slowly. ‘Freddy’s back in the Lockholes. How will we ever get him out again?’

’Time, and patience,’ Finch said. ‘That young Mr Frodo Baggins seems to have a calming effect. Somehow he understands Mr Freddy’s troubles better than the rest of us, I don’t know how, but he does. He told me he wouldn’t leave Mr Freddy’s side until the lad can find his way back out of the darkness. You’ve a real treasure, there, in that cousin of yours.’

’Don’t I know it,’ Odo said, but of course he didn’t know the half of it.