Notes to Readers:
The co-author on this chapter is, of course, Jodancingtree.
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... (I am sending them on to Jo,
and she thanks you as well.)
Hai, o good, glad you remembered about the endings. Yes, well, that said, there
are still ten or more chapters to go, so buckle your seat belt.
Bookworm, not good at all. Of course, I always suspected Ferdi was a bit daft,
but mad?
Xena, Rosemary is quite worried and confused. She has seen a family member
descend into madness before this, and Ferdi has not been acting like himself.
Aemilia Rose, poor Ferdi, he does seem to suffer a lot of bad luck. Well, he's
had lots and lots of good days, weeks, months, but they are not half so
interesting to write about.
FantasyFan, did you see my
reply for chapter 14 on SoA?
Miriel, Ferdi hasn't been himself, you know, enough so that even Rosemary and
Hally were wondering. When they found, to their shock, that the Thain hadn't
known where his son was the whole time, it was enough to send them over the
edge from doubt to certainty (even though they were certain of the wrong
thing).
Shireling, so good to see you! Thanks for the review. Jodancingtree has done a
wonderful job of taking my words and rearranging them for maximum impact. Even
though we have worked our way nearly to the end (I forget what chapter number
she last sent me), I too look forward to seeing how it all comes out.
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 SoA reviewers! See replies at SoA as well), 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 last chapter of "Truth" will be added on the morrow, if ffnet
agrees. The next story in the line-up features a character you've only seen
briefly, if at all, in previous stories: Fatty Bolger. It has been fascinating,
getting to know him and hearing his tale about the time of the Troubles. Hope
you enjoy him as well as I have. "Shire" continues to be written, slowly, and
is not yet ready to post, and the two sequels to "Truth" (Frodo's wedding, and
Farry&Goldi's wedding) are in the same condition. Think good thoughts and
perhaps the Muse will deign to pick them up again.
p.s. I seem to be fighting bronchitis again. The cold was nearly gone and then wham.
So if you wouldn't mind lifting a few prayers for me, if you think of it, I'd
appreciate it. I don't want to go through bronchitis or pneumonia again...
Enough admin notes. Let's get to the story.
***
Chapter 16. Foregone
Conclusion
It was an odd assortment of hobbits that sat around the long table after
morning chores, Bolgers and Tooks and a lone Brandybuck, eating breakfast in
uncomfortable silence. Rosemary and her daughters kept the food coming, hot and
plenty. She had little desire, herself, to sit down and eat, and as long as she
was on her feet, her daughters insisted on keeping her company.
Faramir had been moved to the big bed, and Rosemary brought the Thain his
breakfast in the bedroom. She set down the tray and put her ear against the
lad's chest, listening.
'He's breathing a little easier,' Pippin said, confirming her opinion. 'That
steam you had him breathe earlier seems to have helped some.'
'Good,' Rosemary said. 'I think we've managed to head off the Old Gaffer's
Friend. I'll fix up another mustard plaster and then we'll coat him with goose
grease again.' She touched the hot forehead with the back of her hand. 'The
fever's doing its work, burning the illness out of his body, I hope. If it goes
too high, I'll wrap him up and let him sweat it away... unless you want me to
send for the healer.'
'You seem to know what you're doing,' Pippin said.
Rosemary smiled. As long as she could keep her mind busy with other things, she
could keep her worry for her brother neatly contained. 'I used to follow the
healers around the Great Smials, peppering them with questions. They answered
everything I asked, if only to get rid of me!'
Pippin smiled back. He, too, relied on the light conversation to keep from
dwelling on darker thoughts. 'From my experience, they're always looking for
someone to plague, or someone to train. Can't ever have too many healers, you
know.'
'Unless you're a Took,' Rosemary said. 'For some reason, Tooks don't like
healers.'
'Oh, I like them just fine,' Pippin said, pulling a face, 'so long as they keep
their distance.' Rosemary chuckled and excused herself, then went out to the
henhouse, "to make sure the children didn't miss any of the eggs,"
and to have a good cry.
Breakfast finished and the washing up done, Ferdi sat down by the hearth and
took up a stick to carve. Hilly stationed himself by the door, keeping an eye
on all in general and Ferdibrand in particular. Earlier, he had asked him
softly, 'Am I supposed to bind you?'
'You're asking me?' Ferdi replied, and laughed at his old friend's expression.
'Don't worry, Hilly, I'm not about to do anyone any harm.' Now he carved at his
stick as if it were the most important task in the world, paying no heed to
anyone else in the room. There was no point in talking further; it would only
grieve the Bolgers, and it wouldn't sway Meriadoc from his belief that Ferdi
had lost himself. No, Tolly would have to do that, if he could – or Faramir,
wakening from his fever, would have to set things straight. At least his head
was growing clearer as the morning passed.
Rosemary sat the children down to do their lessons, but of course their minds
weren't on their work. Several of them could read only a few words before subsiding
into silence or dissolving in tears, and finally Rosemary ended the reading and
told them to draw pictures on their slates instead.
'Where is Reginard?' Everard fretted.
'He has a much longer journey from Tuckborough than we had,' Merry reminded
him, 'and remember all the trees that were down across the road! They would not
have travelled in that storm, any more than we did. Even if they set out before
it struck, they would have sought shelter rather than risk that lightning.'
'They would not have gone as quickly as you did, in any event,' Hilly put in.
'You were using the post ponies, riding at a gallop all the way and changing to
a fresh mount at every inn.' He took a sip of tea and added, 'I'd expect them
on the morrow, perhaps by breakfast time.'
'Good,' Merry said. 'That will give us all day to take Tolly's testimony, and
perhaps Faramir will be awake by then and able to tell us something. Tomorrow
evening will be three days since we heard Ferdibrand – I must render judgment
before three settings of the sun.'
The time limit was meant to prevent trials from dragging on and on; a good
system, Merry had always thought it. From the time the accusation was formally
presented and the accused made answer, till judgment was given, only three
sunsets were permitted. Shire tradition held that that was long enough to hear
witnesses and come to a decision. More than three sunsets, and the accused
hobbit walked free.
It might have been better to carry Ferdi back to the Smials before charging
him, Merry thought now. If Reginard was delayed another day, he would have to
give judgment without hearing Tolly, something he didn't at all want to do. He
had the report of Tolly's confession, but it was second-hand evidence; he wanted
to hear the story from Tolly's own mouth, before he decided.
But he couldn't have left Pippin here with Farry ill and raving; and they
couldn't have traveled with the lad as sick as he was. He would just have to hope
that the hobbits from Tuckborough arrived by morning. He rubbed at his
forehead, reflecting that it was a bad business all around and he didn't know
what he could have done differently, to improve matters.
The tension was telling on the children, as well. One of them gave a sob, and
the rest busied themselves soberly with their drawing. None of them had much
appetite for elevenses, and at playtime they huddled together, the littlest on
a sister's lap, sucking his thumb, till Rosemary in desperation gathered them around
herself, to tell a round-robin story. Then she had to prepare the late noontide
meal, but she might have saved herself the trouble, for no one was hungry. The
children seemed relieved when time came for afternoon chores, meaning they
could leave the house for a while.
Supper was again a silent meal, and washing up was not accompanied by the usual
singing. Afterwards, Merry went in to the bedroom to check on Faramir.
The lad appeared to be in a heavy sleep. 'How is he doing?' he asked Pippin,
sitting down in the other chair.
'Still fevered. He's talked a bit, but nothing that makes any sense.'
Merry shook his head. 'I would give much to hear what he'd have to say before I
have to render judgment. I simply cannot believe this of Ferdi... and yet I
have to! All the evidence is against him.'
'Flimsy evidence that it is,' Pippin said. 'Merry, do you really think hobbits
capable of such treachery? We are not Men; we have never had such doings in the
Shire.' Ferdibrand had acted as level-headed as he ever was since their
arrival. They had only Rosemary and Hally's word that he had not been himself before
today.
'Hobbits threw in their lot with the ruffians, remember,' Merry said. 'That was
a mess to clear up.'
'There weren't many who took up with the ruffians. That was a mercy.'
'Not many, but even a few were too many,' Merry said. 'Enough to show us that
hobbits can be affected by the poisonous leanings of wicked Men.'
'You think Ferdi's mind has been poisoned, after all this time?' It was years
since the Troubles, Pippin thought. Years! Would they never reach the end of
that evil?
'I think he's gone off his head,' Merry said sadly. 'And the worst of it is, he
doesn't seem to realize what he's done. He thinks that by stealing your son, he
was somehow saving him.'
'So tomorrow you'll banish him. Bind him, brand him, carry him over the Bounds
and leave him there.' Pippin's voice was bleak.
'Would you have me set him free? He's a menace to your son, at the very least,
with this wild notion of his.' Merry's fingers twitched and he grasped his
knees firmly, wishing he could smoke. A pipe would busy his fingers and take
his mind off his thoughts, but of course it was out of the question in a
sickroom. If things remained quiet, he'd take himself off for a smoke later on,
a few moments of calm in this maelstrom of trouble. 'If Tolly cannot convince
me that Ferdi's story is truth, I see no other course before me.'
'And if you're not satisfied with his story, you'll brand Tolly and cast him
out as well.' Pippin bowed his head. Two friends, two kinsmen, and he would
have trusted either of them with his life. Had trusted them with what he valued
more than life, his family.
'I have no choice, Pippin, surely you see that.' Merry's voice seemed to come
from a long way off. 'We cannot let this contagion spread, if contagion it is.
I'd really like to hear what Farry would say. But even without his testimony,
we have enough evidence to convict. I keep coming back to that note Ferdi wrote,
and Tolly's confession.'
'Yes." Pippin's anger stirred again. Tolly had admitted they were
conspiring to keep his son from him; there was no getting away from that fact.
Faramir twitched and moaned softly and Pippin turned to him at once.
'It's all right, son.' He stroked the lad's hair caressingly, putting one dark
curl back from the damp forehead, but Farry twisted in the bed, drawing up his
legs and thrusting them out again, lost in dreams. Pippin wrung out the cloth
and replaced it on his son's forehead, cool and soothing. 'It's all right,' he
murmured again and Faramir's eyes half opened; he turned towards his father,
reaching out a beseeching hand.
Pippin grasped the hand gently, but Faramir jerked away.
'Farry, it's all right,' Pippin said again.
'No,' Farry said, his voice pleading. 'Please, Ferdi, let me go...'
Pippin looked across at Merry, and his eyes were hard. 'You will do what you
have to do, on the morrow, Merry. We will have no more child-stealing in the
Shire.'
