Notes to Readers:
Announcement: "Runaway" now officially has a co-author. Please extend a warm
welcome to Jodancingtree, author of "The Shaping of Samwise", "Sam's Rose",
"Another Way of Leaving, and "The Drunkard of Bag End", just to name a few.
Even though I name only these stories, there are many more wonderful tales that
have come from her pen. Check them out!
Thank you for the comments! Reviews are very motivating and give me insights
into the stories that make me dig deeper in writing, which I probably wouldn't
do were I the only one reading these stories...
SilverMoonLady, the tension knob is definitely being turned, slowly. When we
get to the chapters where Jodancingtree is editing and writing parts, the metre
may go off the scale! She is quite deft in her touch, and I am so glad she
agreed to help me with this story when I stalled.
Xena, if I were Farry, I'm not sure I could keep my mouth shut. He shows great
strength of character. Bet he'll make a wonderful Thain someday if they can
just get him on the right track.
Hai, you are welcome! And thank you for your faithful reviews.
Bookworm, I think that Farry's not-talking is probably the thing that puzzles
Rosemary the most.
Aemilia Rose, I do appreciate your taking the time to review the chapter on
ffnet even though you'd already read it elsewhere. I've finally got the posting
process straightened out again, whew.
FantasyFan: Simplicity is a
large part of my fascination with hobbits, I think, though if I'd been a
hobbit, I'd've been practically blind, and probably would have died in
childbirth as well, considering their level of technology. I am grateful for
our medical science, with all its warts. I think Ferdi's on the right track, in
trying to open Faramir's eyes to the difference between his spoiled cousins and
"regular" hobbits. Actions are doing what all the words in the world
couldn't do, for Pippin would not hear him when he tried to tell the Thain
about his son. Let's hope he has enough time to complete his little lesson for
Faramir. Thanks for the faithful reviews on this and other stories!
Ff.net and other factors permitting, expect to see the next chapter two
days from this posting. If you cannot access ff.net, try www.storiesofarda.com. You can leave
reviews there, as well (thanks Miriel and FantasyFan!), and there is a
"reply" feature where an author can reply to a review right there rather
than within the text of the story. I have also discovered the "author
alert" feature. Amazing place, that SoA.
The next chapter of "Truth" will be added on the morrow, if ffnet
agrees.
Enough admin notes. Let's get to the story.
***
9. Rising Suspicion
Ferdi's head was no better the next day; as a matter of fact, it was bad enough
that he had difficulty gathering his thoughts. Rosemary noticed how unsteady he
was as he rose from his bed, and despite his attempts to put her off, Ferdi
found himself seated at the table, steaming cup of steeping herbs at hand,
while the Bolgers bustled about their morning chores.
'It's naught,' he mumbled again as his sister stopped to rest a hand on his
shoulder and urge him to drink. 'Just a weather ache, is all.'
'There's a storm blowing in, for certain,' Hally said, stopping on Ferdi's
other side.
'Feels to be a big one,' Ferdi said, rubbing his hand across his face,
massaging his temple, willing the ache to subside, which of course it did not.
Ferdi had learned over the years that he must wait out the ache, for some days
if need be. Once this weather change had passed them over, the ache would be
gone. He clung to that knowledge, even as the pain in his head blew the thought
to tatters. At least he was safely at Hally and Rosemary's. The Bolgers would
keep an eye on Faramir for him, for certain. They would not let anything happen
to the son of the Thain while Ferdi was under the weather.
'Drink,' Rosemary urged again, and Ferdi lifted the cup to his lips, making a
face at the taste. He drank down half the contents of the cup before his
stomach rebelled.
'No more,' he whispered, shoving the mug away, and Rosemary understood. She
knew about Ferdi's bouts with head pain whenever a large weather change came,
reminder of a ruffian's club at the Battle of Bywater, compounded by the
effects of a fall during a pony race years later. He would not be able to eat,
or do much of anything, until the fit passed.
'Why don't you sleep it off?' Hally said quietly. 'We can put you in one of the
bedrooms, close the door, keep the children quiet for the day.'
Ferdi started to shake his head but thought better of the gesture. 'Farry,' he
said.
'We'll keep an eye on the lad,' Rosemary replied soothingly.
'Do you have a pencil, and a bit of paper you can spare?' Ferdi whispered.
Rosemary squeezed his shoulder and went to seek out a piece of the precious
stuff; as a matter of fact, what she brought back was the last leaf from one of
Ferdi's letters to her. He'd filled only half that page before ending the
letter, folding it up, sealing it and writing the direction on the outside
blank paper.
'Will this do?' she asked. He nodded, tried to smile his thanks, took the
pencil and paper from her hand and smoothed the page on the table. Parsley
called to her mother with a question and Rosemary turned away as her brother
began to write.
Ferdi wrote quickly despite his fragmented thoughts; he didn't want anyone
pausing to read over his shoulder, after all. He informed Tolly that he'd found
Faramir, that they were safe in Woody End. He wrote of Farry's injury, and that
he'd continue as planned when the leg was healed. He hesitated, then wrote,
"Keep the secret as long as you can." He looked at the words, dissatisfied, but
the ache in his head made it hard to think clearly. He licked the tip of the
pencil, rubbed his head, and finished, "Should the Thain hear of this, and
descend upon Woody End, I fear the consequences."
He had a week yet, before the Thain was due to return to the Great Smials. He
wouldn't even be writing this note but for the fact that he feared his head
would prevent his taking the lad on to Buckland as soon as he'd planned. He
folded the paper to leave the outside blank and wrote "Tolibold Took, The Great
Smials" upon the front.
Hally still stood behind him, having watched him write. Ferdi had no worries
about spilt secrets; he knew that Hally had never bothered to learn to read.
Now Ferdi turned and handed the folded missive to his brother-in-love. 'Can you
see that this gets to the Great Smials?' he asked.
'I'll take it to the Stoat and Stout myself,' Hally said, naming the nearest
inn. 'From there it can go by post.' He was relieved that Ferdi was sending
word to the Thain about his son. His worry had grown the previous day, when
Ferdi made no move to inform anyone of his whereabouts, but now he was
satisfied.
'Make it quick post,' Ferdi said, digging in his pocket.
Hally stayed his hand. 'You can pay me for it later,' he said. 'I've enough
coins for a quick post rider. You take yourself off to bed now, brother, before
the children notice somewhat's amiss with you and plague the daylights out of
you trying to offer comfort.'
***
When Farry came in from morning chores, smiling at one of Robin's funny
stories, he saw no sign of Ferdibrand. Hope and dread stirred in him together.
Perhaps Ferdi had taken himself off to the nearest inn, to send word to Farry's
father by post. This might be Farry's best opportunity to get away, but it also
meant his chances of escaping were diminishing rapidly. Of course he could ask
no questions, but he listened closely as he sat down with the family to
breakfast, and soon his questions were answered.
'Hush, children,' Rosemary said, as the plates were passed. 'Your Uncle Ferdi
is having a bad spell.' Farry caught the glances towards the closed door, and
realised that Ferdibrand had fallen ill, incredible as it seemed. His father's
special assistant hardly ever missed a day of work, or so it seemed to Faramir.
There was a murmur of concern, but Hally assured the children that their uncle
would be fine, he just needed quiet to sleep this day, and that was all.
Better and better, Farry thought. When the Bolgers were busy, he'd make
himself busy as well. He could take a loaf from the sideboard, baked fresh this
morning and set aside for a later meal. A chunk of cheese might be possible,
and failing that he could stop by the shed where he'd seen hams hanging up and
slice off a fair portion to take with him. Now that he knew how to milk a cow,
he'd be able to find sustenance along the way, at least while he was in the
Shire. How he'd eat once he passed the Bounds, now, that was a problem he
didn't care to contemplate. Perhaps he could hire himself out to one of the
caravans of traders travelling the Great South Road. He found he didn't mind
hard work, not the way the Bolgers did things, with laughter and song. He had
yet to hear any grumbles here.
It was easier to plan than to put into practice, he discovered. Whenever
Faramir looked at Hally, he found the woodcarver looking back at him. After
breakfast, Hally shouldered his bow and announced he was going out hunting,
inviting Robin to come with him. The tween grinned, then said, 'Can Farry
come?' It would be a treat for the poor little foundling.
'I'd like that leg to have at least another day's rest before he walks any
distance,' Rosemary said, having just finished that morning's examination.
Farry frowned. That did not fit his plans at all. Rosemary misread the frown
and laughed, tousling his hair. 'You'll be going out to hunt before you know
it,' she said reassuringly. Farry ducked away from her touch. She thought about
it later, and it bothered her. Why was the lad so wary?
Faramir noted that the bedroom door remained closed the rest of the day.
Rosemary went in twice with a covered cup, emerging each time to tell the
children that their uncle was resting and that he thanked them for their
consideration in remaining quiet.
Though Robin and his father were gone, Buckthorn stuck to Faramir like
fletching on a finely crafted arrow, through the teaching, elevenses, noontide
chores, midday meal, time for play. During play time, Farry was happy to stay
close to the hearth. Despite the bright fire, he felt chilled, and when time
for afternoon chores came, he was reluctant to go out with Buckthorn. Of course
he made no protest, but he shivered as they went out into the cold. All was
still; no breeze stirred the trees about the clearing, but the sky was sullen
and unsmiling above.
'There's a storm blowing up for certain,' Buckthorn said soberly. 'We'd better make
sure we shut up everything fast. Wouldn't want a cow to blow away, now, would
we?' He chopped extra wood and directed Farry to carry many more armloads into
the house than on the previous day. Farry's muscles protested this treatment;
he was sore from all the unaccustomed exercise of the previous day, and there
was an additional ache deep in his bones, which, together with the chill he
felt, made the chore more onerous.
***
Ferdibrand slept restlessly in the soothing dark and quiet of the shuttered room.
He drank down the herbs his sister brought him and settled back to sleep again.
Several times when he wakened, he did not know where he was, and one of the
times Rosemary wakened him to drink healing herbs, he stared at her in
confusion until he remembered where he was and how he'd got there.
Though Rosemary carefully schooled her expression before returning to the
children, she was alarmed. She had never seen Ferdi laid so low by one of his
bad spells. She wondered whether they ought to send for a healer, but in truth,
what could a healer do but advise quiet and rest?
Toward afternoon, Ferdi dreamed that Farry had run again, and he was tracking
the lad while threatening black clouds followed close behind him. He could see
Faramir ahead, and increased his pace to catch the lad, but his feet were mired
in the muddy ground and the harder he tried, the heavier his feet grew. He
opened his mouth to shout, but the rising wind tore his words away.
Suddenly he was there, where he'd seen Faramir last, on the bank of a
stream, with no sign of the lad. He heard a laugh, and looking down, saw
Faramir in the stream, floating along with the current. He saw the lad's aim;
he'd float to the Brandywine and down to the Sea, from thence to Gondor. It was
all wrong, of course. Hobbits didn't belong in water. He called a warning, but
Faramir grinned back at him. 'I'm all right!' he shouted cheerily. 'Da always
said I could swim like a fish!'
As a matter of fact, something odd was happening to the lad. His skin was
shining with more than water. Before Ferdi's horrified gaze, the lad's skin
turned to silver scales, the merry gaze became a blank stare, and in the space
of a breath a great fish wriggled free of Farry's clothing, slapped its tail at
Ferdi and slipped downstream.
'No!' Ferdi shouted. 'Farry, no!' He waded into the stream, his feet numbed by
the icy water. He had to get the lad back. How would he ever explain this to
Pippin? He stumbled, and looking down, saw to his horror that his own feet were
beginning to gleam with a silvery sheen...
'Ferdi?' Rosemary's calm, questioning voice broke into the dream.
Ferdibrand started up from the bed, his eyes wild. 'I have to find Farry!' he
panted. 'I must not lose him this way.'
'Lose him?' Rosemary echoed, bewildered.
Ferdi thrust her aside, stumbled to the door, stood swaying as he swept the
room with an intense gaze. 'Where is he?' he demanded.
Just then the outer door opened to Buckthorn and Farry, arms full of wood.
Ferdi relaxed to see the lad. 'Not in the stream, then,' he muttered. The
Bolgers shot startled looks at their mother, who had crossed to take Ferdi's
arm. She didn't miss the wary look that Farry gave her brother, and she began
to wonder if he had good reason to fear Ferdibrand. Her brother was certainly
not acting like himself.
'Come, Ferdi,' she said now, tugging at his arm, making her voice as soothing
and gentle as she could. 'Come and lie down. I'll bring you a cool cloth for
your head.'
He resisted a moment, his eyes fixed on the lad, then put his hand to his head.
'Aye, Rosie,' he said faintly. 'I think I will lie me down awhile longer.'
