Notes to Readers:

Thanks for the comments! They are so helpful.

General note to everybody: You might think the Tooks are picking on Ferdi alone with all their gossip, but really, he is not *the* target of gossip. The Tooks gossip about everything and everyone. We just see the effects on Ferdi because we're focusing on his story.

Dana, loved the reviews! And you managed, once again, not to give away the ending. Way to go.

Xena, yes, horses are magnificent creatures, but they are also an awful lot of work! And they have personalities, just like people. Yes, Hornblower got a bit greedy, didn't he?

FantasyFan, O my, your review made me laugh, it was wonderful.

runaround, nope, no gratuitous angst. Maybe this chapter is the exception to that.

Aemilia Rose, in "At the End of His Rope", troubles were following Pippin like gnats. Hmmmm, wonder where those gnats came from in the first place? D'you suppose that they got tired of biting Ferdi and went in search of new blood?

Ff.net permitting, expect an update in this story every other day until we reach the end (chapter 59).

A new chapter to "Merlin" will be added in between updates to "Flames", in case you are following that story.

***

56. Resolution

Woodruff returned twice more to waken Ferdibrand, asking him a few simple questions, seeming satisfied each time.

'If all is well, why won't you let me alone to sleep?' he asked. The double vision still bothered him enough that he kept his eyes closed except for the brief interval where Woodruff ordered him to open his eyes so that she could look into them, hold a lantern close and move it away again.

She patted his shoulder kindly. 'Don't fuss, now, lad, you've rattled your brains and I just want to make sure they settle back in the right place.'

Fatty Bolger spoke from the doorway. 'I thought I asked you to tell me when he wakened.'

'Since I just wakened him, I haven't had time to come and seek you out,' the healer returned.

Fatty came to crouch by the bedside. 'Do you remember any more?' he asked.

'No,' Ferdi said, wise enough not to shake his head this time. He kept his eyes closed, but he felt the other's stare, and then a hand rested itself on his shoulder to give a gentle squeeze.

'We're ready,' Fatty said. 'Fetch a litter.'

There was an exclamation of outrage from Woodruff, which the gentlehobbit calmly set aside.

'This room is much too small to hold a hearing, and he has every right to be there.'

'But... Master Bolger...!'

'We will take good care of Ferdibrand, I promise. He'll be as comfortable as in his own bed,' Fatty said.

'I doubt that!' Woodruff spluttered, but then the Thain spoke.

'I have extended every courtesy to Fredegar, Woodruff, and ask that you do the same. He is doing everyone a great service, in conducting an impartial investigation so quickly. We'll get this whole matter resolved before the talk can blow it all out of proportion.'

'You may accompany your patient, Healer Woodruff,' Fatty said. 'If he should show any signs of distress...'

'You can be assured I will pop him right back into his own bed, where he belongs in the first place!' the healer snapped.

The litter was brought, and gentle hands eased Ferdibrand onto it. 'No, don't try to raise your head,' Woodruff warned, her manner changed from fury with Fatty to gentleness for her poor, mistreated patient.

The litter was lifted carefully and borne as smoothly as hobbitly possible. Ferdi heard Fatty's voice, receding in the distance, and realised that he was being carried very slowly along; the others must have walked ahead, save Woodruff, who held his hand. As they walked along, however, Ferdi's other hand was taken up, and then he heard Pippin's voice close to his ear.

'Fatty knows what he is doing, despite all evidence to the contrary.'

'I can see why we made you Thain,' Ferdi responded without opening his eyes. 'You've a knack for inspiring confidence in the heart of a hobbit.'

Pippin chuckled and squeezed his hand. 'Just hold on, Ferdi. We'll have you back in bed in no time at all.'

'Such comfort,' Ferdi murmured, 'and then you won't let me up out of it when I'm done with it.'

'Undoubtedly,' Pippin answered with another chuckle.

'Ah, well,' Ferdi sighed, 'it's only gold, after all.'

'What's that, cousin?' Pippin asked, puzzled.

'And what is it good for, I ask you? Pound it out flat, and perhaps you can gild your pony's feet, but other than that...'

'Woodruff?' Pippin asked, his voice worried.

'You shouldn't be surprised if he rambles a bit,' the healer said angrily. 'He belongs in his bed.'

There was a buzz of voices ahead of them, which fell silent as they entered... Ferdi opened his eyes for a quick, blurred glance... the great room.

'Bring him up here,' Fatty ordered, gesturing to the front of the room. The litter was brought and laid gently down. Fatty knew from personal experience the impact of a suffering hero on a crowd of hobbits... he remembered the reaction as he was carried from the Lock-holes, too weak to walk out on his own legs. Now he scanned the faces in the room with satisfaction. He hadn't liked what he'd found out in his investigation, and he intended to make an example of the unfortunate hobbit who'd set all this in motion.

His eyes scanned the crowd and he called forth three hobbits, neither Took nor Bracegirdle, intended to be objective in their views: a Chubb, a Grubb, and a Proudfoot. They stepped forward, faces sober. It was an honour so to be chosen, but also a grave responsibility, to render a right decision based upon the evidence presented by the impartial investigator.

Fatty had arranged to have chairs set up for the witnesses. All the riders in that race sat in a line, wearing their bright silks, save Ferdi, whose sable-and-silver silks had been cut away to set his broken arm. Even Hornblower sat there, one eye blackened, his face grim.

Fatty called each witness in turn, and the story gradually came out. The room was packed full of spectators, and hobbits standing in the doorways relayed information to those outside. Those who had ridden in the race described a common practice amongst bolder riders, forcing an opponent running on the outside further out. They disagreed on who bore the responsibility for the first bump; some said Ferdi had cut in too sharply, others said that Hornblower had pushed too aggressively, bumping his pony against Socks when the Thain's pony held his ground.

The race spectators told how the chestnut pony had gone wide in the first turn, even wider in the second, and was drifting further from the fence when the accident occurred. More than one mentioned the black pony, coming up fast, ready to slip into the hole by the inside fence. Hornblower might well have lost the race anyhow, by his chosen tactics...

Fatty questioned Hornblower, who blustered that Ferdi had cut him off, pushed his pony inwards, causing the collision. He took out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose as he revisited the loss of his fine chestnut pony. 'He was all heart,' he sobbed. 'All heart. Naught of mischief in that beast. Best I ever rode.' A few handkerchiefs were in evidence in the crowded room.

Fatty dabbed at his own eyes, then turned again to Hornblower Bracegirdle. 'Do you have any objection to the evidence presented thus far?' he asked. The hobbit shook his head. 'Do you have any witnesses you would like to call, to add to the evidence I have gathered?'

'It seems you've been quite thorough,' Hornblower said graciously.

Fatty bent over the litter, touching Ferdi's shoulder. 'Ferdi?' he asked gently. There was no answer. Pippin started forward, but Healer Woodruff waved him back. She waved a vial of salts under Ferdi's nose to rouse him, resentment stiff in every line of her body.

Ferdi groaned and tried to open his eyes. 'Ferdibrand,' Woodruff said. 'Ferdi, do you hear?'

'Leave off,' Ferdi muttered.

'Ferdi,' Fatty said. 'I want you to tell me again what you remember about the race.'

'False start,' Ferdi said.

'That's right,' Fatty encouraged.

'First turn...' Ferdi added.

'Yes?' Fatty said.

'Can't... can't,' Ferdi almost sobbed, good hand reaching vaguely towards his head. He opened his eyes, tried to focus on Woodruff. 'Where am I?' he asked. 'Why are you doing this?'

'No more of this,' the healer pleaded, one hand soothing Ferdi's curls. 'He needs to be in his own bed. Please.' She turned her eyes to the Thain, who looked to Fatty.

'We're almost finished,' Fatty said. 'Just a few more witnesses.' He called Hilly and Tolly, a kitchen worker, a stable hobbit, a gardener, and the Thain himself, to testify about Ferdi's character. Summing up their testimony, he said, 'So, we have here a hobbit to whom honour is all. He drinks little, wagers not at all, does not seek after idle pursuits. Would he deliberately bump another pony in a race, in order to gain some advantage?' His eyes swept the crowd, though he carefully did not look at the three jurors.

Next he called several Bracegirdles to testify about Hornblower. These painted a glowing picture, but the last few hobbits called, not Bracegirdles, told of heavy wagers laid on the outcome of the pony races. The most damning fact was that Hornblower had not bet on his own pony, but on the late-blooming black.

Questions over, Fatty stepped back and turned to the three who would decide the case. 'Do you have any questions?' he asked. The three put their heads together, talking in an undertone, while the room buzzed with expectation. The room fell silent as the three rose from their chairs. Lotho Proudfoot, as the oldest of the three, acted as spokeshobbit.

'We have no questions,' he said gravely. 'We find the evidence clear in the favour of Ferdibrand Took.'

Pippin bent close to Ferdi's face. 'Did you hear that, Ferdi? They found Hornblower to be at fault. You've been vindicated.'

'Leave me be,' Ferdi breathed, and Pippin patted his shoulder, nodding to Woodruff.

'Take him back to his room,' he said.

'Finally!' the healer huffed. She nodded to the litter bearers, who lifted him and bore him away. He did not hear the jurors' decision that Hornblower Bracegirdle must pay a hefty fine for causing the accident, and that he was barred from pony races throughout the Shire for the next ten years, if the Thain should allow such a judgment, which he did, as a matter of fact.

He only knew that at some point he ended up in his own bed, allowed to sleep, for the most part, if one overlooked the hourly wakenings to make sure his brains were settling properly back into place.