*Sorry for the delay. My couple days' break got out of control and made it
harder to pick up the storyline. But it's back on track now so let the
journey continue.*
Day Six, March 30, evening
Aragorn and Gandalf had allowed a break at noontime to eat and rest. Many who rode chose to leave the cart to exercise their legs for they were sore from sitting so long over bumpy roads. Merry was among them, which gave Pippin enough room to stretch himself over the floor. Merry returned to find him sleeping lightly though he woke up quick enough at the mention of food. There was no time to build any cooking fires; they relied on *cram* to quell their hunger. Then, there had been joking and talking and a few songs to lift their spirits. The hobbits discovered one Rohirrim next to them who knew tales that rivaled those of Bilbo, which he told when he was not coughing harshly.
Now, as the party creaked to a halt, there was a noted silence. The day's chatter had long since dwindled to occasional murmur even as the day's light faded. The occupants of the carts were too sore from the bouncing and jostling and their half-healed injuries to talk and those who went on foot were too exhausted and winded to say much either. It was not the pace, which was slow, nor the weight of supplies, which were few, but both combined with the dreary land of Mordor and the knowledge of the high price of their freedom.
Gimli had kept his pace at that of the cart carrying the hobbits, positioning himself nearest the corner in which they sat so as to carrying on conversation. He was glad to drop his pack for the night - not that he was tired, of course, but it gave him a chance to check on the hobbits.
Pippin rested his head against Merry's shoulder, his eyes closed and breathing even, while Merry's head rested on his cousin's. Gimli smiled at the sight and did not disturb them until the fires were built and the soups were warming. He brought two wooden bowls over to them and allowed the fragrant steam to do its work.
Pippin was first to wake. His head popped up and he looked at Gimli with surprisingly bright eyes. "Is supper ready? Something smells wonderful."
Gimli laughed. "It is indeed. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to sleep through it and force me to eat your portion. You are fortunate you woke in time."
Merry blinked crossly at having been so rudely awakened by Pippin's antics but his face brightened at the sight of the soup. He accepted his bowl with a grin. "Would you really steal food out of the mouths of valiant injured, Gimli?" he asked.
The Rohirrim who told the splendid stories ceased his ragged coughing fit long enough to give Gimli a stern and expectant look.
"Of course not!" the dwarf said stoutly. "Though I might make an exception for you two," he added quietly, leaning in confidentially.
Pippin laughed and dedicated himself to the soup. "But we wouldn't have slept through supper even if you had allowed us," he said between spoonfuls. "No proper hobbit would, though we have slept quite a lot during the trip. I don't understand how it can be so tiring, just riding in a cart."
"You would not prefer to walk it," Gimli said seriously. "And though you seem spry for now you will be feeling the bumps and bruises tomorrow."
(Note: There is no March 31 in Shire Reckoning) Day Seven, April 1
Pippin groaned and slowly stretched his limbs. Gimli's warning came back to him and he shook his aching head. It seemed to him that his body remembered every jostle from the road and was reminding him. His ribs and ankle throbbed dully but so did his nose and back, which was a new and unpleasant development. Pippin knew sleeping on hard wood and then hard ground was probably to blame. Even so, the tightness in his chest and head made it difficult to breath normally and doing so made him wonder if sleeping more would not help.
"So, slug-a-bed, were you planning to sleep all day?" Merry asked from above.
Pippin squinted up at him. "The thought had entered my mind to do so."
"Then you will most certainly miss breakfast and there will be no second breakfast for you to catch up with either," replied Merry.
Pippin smiled wanly. "Then I can catch up the missed meal at luncheon."
Immediately Merry knelt beside him on the grass. "What's wrong? Peregrin Took never passes up a meal if he can help it." He looked carefully at Pippin's face. "Your nose is swollen a bit, along the cut."
"Ah, so that is why it hurts," said Pippin. "I had wondered about that."
Merry's eyes narrowed. "Where else are you hurt?"
"Everywhere and nowhere, really," came the bewildering answer. "I am all sore and achy but I am not seriously hurt. You needn't fetch someone. There are many others who are worse off than I. Remembering the coughing soldier who sat next to us?"
"I do," Merry said quietly. "He coughed blood from a bone that had pierced his lung. He rests now."
"I am glad to hear it," said Pippin but something in Merry's face worried him. "Is that not good news?"
"He died," Merry said bluntly. "His ribs had been broken as yours had and he was jostled about in the cart as you had and now he is dead. And he is not the only one we lost in the night. I won't let you join them. For pity's sake, Pippin, when will you learn that you must ask for aid sometimes?"
Pippin glowered at him. "To ask for aid when none is needed is akin to complaining. I'd like to think I have left that behind me."
"To not ask for aid when aid is needed is akin to foolishness, which you obviously have not left behind you," Merry retorted. Then his face softened. "Please, Pippin? It is only a precaution and if Strider - Aragorn - thinks it was unnecessary you may have my ration of *cram* to compensate."
"How is your arm?" Pippin asked suddenly.
Merry kept his voice neutral. "As I told Aragorn, it is cold still and the feeling is numb but it has improved some since he gave me some athelas to bathe with and showed me exercises to do."
Pippin considered this and sighed shallowly. "All right then."
Merry's brows shot upwards in surprise at the quick acquiescence but went off and returned shortly with Aragorn. He too was pleasantly surprised at the development but also concerned by the reports of pain.
"So Merry has talked some sense into you?" he asked and set the hobbit on the edge of the wagon so as to gain a better vantage point for the examination.
Pippin shrugged and winced at the movement. Aragorn noticed and went about gently manipulating limbs. "We put off binding your ribs too long," he murmured as he worked. "And I would like your arm put back into a sling. It will only be for a little while," he said as Pippin began to protest. "If these injuries are not kept still they are apt to worsen and you will be bedridden longer."
"Very well," Pippin said reluctantly and subsided as he struggled out of his shirt. He made no more protests while the linen was wrapped about his chest and reapplied to his ankle but he shook off Merry and Aragorn's help to put his shirt back on.
The man bit back words of caution that rose to his lips when Pippin grimaced with pain. He knew they would do no good in the face of such stubbornness. He merely waited until the hobbit was adequately clothed before tying the ends of the sling behind Pippin's neck, though Merry had no such hesitations and alternated between coaxes and scoldings.
"Is that all then?" Pippin asked, his tone polite but he was clearly eager for the ministrations to end.
Aragorn raised Pippin's chin and scanned his face. "Does this pain you also?" he asked and brushed the swollen bridge of his nose with a gentle touch.
"Yes," Pippin said briefly, "and it is more difficult to breath. But it did not hurt until this morning."
Aragorn began to lightly apply a salve to the area. "When you were brought from the battlefield I thought perhaps some nasal bones had been cracked but I could not be sure. I think the ride here may have shifted something. There is not much than can be done."
Upon seeing the hobbits' eyes widen, he hastened to add, "Even if this is the case it should heal well, provided no further injuries occur. When the swelling goes down I suspect your breathing will become easier and the pain will lessen as well. And fear not -- it will not damage your looks," Aragorn said with a smile. "There will be a scar but it will lighten with time."
Merry rolled his eyes. Pippin returned the smile and bowed his head. "That is a great relief," he said. "It would not do to return to the Shire and be shunned as a scar-ridden monster."
"There is no danger of that," said Aragorn. "The only thing you need fear is that you will be shunned as a young giant."
Pippin laughed but hissed in pain and gripped his ribs. Aragorn's face darkened, causing Merry to look at them both with concern. "Wait here," the man ordered and swung Merry up to sit next to his cousin. They watched Aragorn disappear into the throngs.
Merry glanced sideways at Pippin, who returned the look. "I suppose I'll have to forego the extra *cram*," he said at last.
Merry snorted, half amused and half exasperated. "That is the least of your worries, Pip. Aren't you glad now that I pressed my case?"
"Yes, Merry," Pippin replied dutifully.
Aragorn returned and pressed a steaming mug into Pippin's hands. "This is a tea that will dull the pain. It may also cause you to become sleepy but you will awaken feeling better."
Pippin took a drink and grimaced. "It is hot," he said but continued with small sips. Soon his head began to fall forward but he sat up with a jerk, blinking hard. "You did not say it was so potent," he murmured thickly.
Aragorn folded one of the blankets and guided Pippin onto it. "Sleep, little one." He brushed a hand through the brown curls. "Find a pleasant land of dreams. Sleep long and deep." He whispered a few words in Elvish and Pippin relaxed into slumber.
Merry watched the scene. "He will be all right?"
Aragorn nodded reassuringly. "Do not worry, Merry. He will fine."
*****
Pippin did not wake in the morning, nor in the afternoon. Merry was concerned but Pippin looked peaceful enough, his breathing even and heartbeat strong with no trace of fever or pain. As the company made camp for yet another evening, however, Merry could take no more.
"Pippin, wake up!" he whispered fiercely and shook his cousin's uninjured arm. There was no response. Merry clenched his teeth and tried again. Again, there was no response. He looked about him wildly, looking for someone to help, and saw a flash of white robes and long white hair.
"Gandalf!" he cried. The wizard turned, spotted the hobbit, and neared. But before he could say a word, Merry loosed a torrent of babbling.
"Gandalf, Aragorn gave Pippin a tea to ease his pain and it put him to sleep and I thought nothing of it but he's been sleeping all day and I can't wake him and - " Merry choked but continued, "and I think something's wrong!"
Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "You were not told? How very careless of Aragorn."
"What?"
"Aragorn thought it best to keep Pippin asleep until we reach Ithilien. The bumps in the road do not affect a relaxed body as severely, and we are running short on herbs to treat pain."
"But surely the potion would have worn off by now!" exclaimed Merry.
"But it was not the potion alone," Gandalf said patiently, "but the healing sleep brought on by the hands of the king. It is the same slumber Frodo and Sam are in this very moment. Stop worrying, Merry. All is well with Pippin."
The wizard passed on, leaving Merry only somewhat reassured. It was all very well for Gandalf to take this lightly but how could he be sure? Merry looked down at Pippin sleeping peacefully and prayed that the wizard was right.
Day Six, March 30, evening
Aragorn and Gandalf had allowed a break at noontime to eat and rest. Many who rode chose to leave the cart to exercise their legs for they were sore from sitting so long over bumpy roads. Merry was among them, which gave Pippin enough room to stretch himself over the floor. Merry returned to find him sleeping lightly though he woke up quick enough at the mention of food. There was no time to build any cooking fires; they relied on *cram* to quell their hunger. Then, there had been joking and talking and a few songs to lift their spirits. The hobbits discovered one Rohirrim next to them who knew tales that rivaled those of Bilbo, which he told when he was not coughing harshly.
Now, as the party creaked to a halt, there was a noted silence. The day's chatter had long since dwindled to occasional murmur even as the day's light faded. The occupants of the carts were too sore from the bouncing and jostling and their half-healed injuries to talk and those who went on foot were too exhausted and winded to say much either. It was not the pace, which was slow, nor the weight of supplies, which were few, but both combined with the dreary land of Mordor and the knowledge of the high price of their freedom.
Gimli had kept his pace at that of the cart carrying the hobbits, positioning himself nearest the corner in which they sat so as to carrying on conversation. He was glad to drop his pack for the night - not that he was tired, of course, but it gave him a chance to check on the hobbits.
Pippin rested his head against Merry's shoulder, his eyes closed and breathing even, while Merry's head rested on his cousin's. Gimli smiled at the sight and did not disturb them until the fires were built and the soups were warming. He brought two wooden bowls over to them and allowed the fragrant steam to do its work.
Pippin was first to wake. His head popped up and he looked at Gimli with surprisingly bright eyes. "Is supper ready? Something smells wonderful."
Gimli laughed. "It is indeed. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to sleep through it and force me to eat your portion. You are fortunate you woke in time."
Merry blinked crossly at having been so rudely awakened by Pippin's antics but his face brightened at the sight of the soup. He accepted his bowl with a grin. "Would you really steal food out of the mouths of valiant injured, Gimli?" he asked.
The Rohirrim who told the splendid stories ceased his ragged coughing fit long enough to give Gimli a stern and expectant look.
"Of course not!" the dwarf said stoutly. "Though I might make an exception for you two," he added quietly, leaning in confidentially.
Pippin laughed and dedicated himself to the soup. "But we wouldn't have slept through supper even if you had allowed us," he said between spoonfuls. "No proper hobbit would, though we have slept quite a lot during the trip. I don't understand how it can be so tiring, just riding in a cart."
"You would not prefer to walk it," Gimli said seriously. "And though you seem spry for now you will be feeling the bumps and bruises tomorrow."
(Note: There is no March 31 in Shire Reckoning) Day Seven, April 1
Pippin groaned and slowly stretched his limbs. Gimli's warning came back to him and he shook his aching head. It seemed to him that his body remembered every jostle from the road and was reminding him. His ribs and ankle throbbed dully but so did his nose and back, which was a new and unpleasant development. Pippin knew sleeping on hard wood and then hard ground was probably to blame. Even so, the tightness in his chest and head made it difficult to breath normally and doing so made him wonder if sleeping more would not help.
"So, slug-a-bed, were you planning to sleep all day?" Merry asked from above.
Pippin squinted up at him. "The thought had entered my mind to do so."
"Then you will most certainly miss breakfast and there will be no second breakfast for you to catch up with either," replied Merry.
Pippin smiled wanly. "Then I can catch up the missed meal at luncheon."
Immediately Merry knelt beside him on the grass. "What's wrong? Peregrin Took never passes up a meal if he can help it." He looked carefully at Pippin's face. "Your nose is swollen a bit, along the cut."
"Ah, so that is why it hurts," said Pippin. "I had wondered about that."
Merry's eyes narrowed. "Where else are you hurt?"
"Everywhere and nowhere, really," came the bewildering answer. "I am all sore and achy but I am not seriously hurt. You needn't fetch someone. There are many others who are worse off than I. Remembering the coughing soldier who sat next to us?"
"I do," Merry said quietly. "He coughed blood from a bone that had pierced his lung. He rests now."
"I am glad to hear it," said Pippin but something in Merry's face worried him. "Is that not good news?"
"He died," Merry said bluntly. "His ribs had been broken as yours had and he was jostled about in the cart as you had and now he is dead. And he is not the only one we lost in the night. I won't let you join them. For pity's sake, Pippin, when will you learn that you must ask for aid sometimes?"
Pippin glowered at him. "To ask for aid when none is needed is akin to complaining. I'd like to think I have left that behind me."
"To not ask for aid when aid is needed is akin to foolishness, which you obviously have not left behind you," Merry retorted. Then his face softened. "Please, Pippin? It is only a precaution and if Strider - Aragorn - thinks it was unnecessary you may have my ration of *cram* to compensate."
"How is your arm?" Pippin asked suddenly.
Merry kept his voice neutral. "As I told Aragorn, it is cold still and the feeling is numb but it has improved some since he gave me some athelas to bathe with and showed me exercises to do."
Pippin considered this and sighed shallowly. "All right then."
Merry's brows shot upwards in surprise at the quick acquiescence but went off and returned shortly with Aragorn. He too was pleasantly surprised at the development but also concerned by the reports of pain.
"So Merry has talked some sense into you?" he asked and set the hobbit on the edge of the wagon so as to gain a better vantage point for the examination.
Pippin shrugged and winced at the movement. Aragorn noticed and went about gently manipulating limbs. "We put off binding your ribs too long," he murmured as he worked. "And I would like your arm put back into a sling. It will only be for a little while," he said as Pippin began to protest. "If these injuries are not kept still they are apt to worsen and you will be bedridden longer."
"Very well," Pippin said reluctantly and subsided as he struggled out of his shirt. He made no more protests while the linen was wrapped about his chest and reapplied to his ankle but he shook off Merry and Aragorn's help to put his shirt back on.
The man bit back words of caution that rose to his lips when Pippin grimaced with pain. He knew they would do no good in the face of such stubbornness. He merely waited until the hobbit was adequately clothed before tying the ends of the sling behind Pippin's neck, though Merry had no such hesitations and alternated between coaxes and scoldings.
"Is that all then?" Pippin asked, his tone polite but he was clearly eager for the ministrations to end.
Aragorn raised Pippin's chin and scanned his face. "Does this pain you also?" he asked and brushed the swollen bridge of his nose with a gentle touch.
"Yes," Pippin said briefly, "and it is more difficult to breath. But it did not hurt until this morning."
Aragorn began to lightly apply a salve to the area. "When you were brought from the battlefield I thought perhaps some nasal bones had been cracked but I could not be sure. I think the ride here may have shifted something. There is not much than can be done."
Upon seeing the hobbits' eyes widen, he hastened to add, "Even if this is the case it should heal well, provided no further injuries occur. When the swelling goes down I suspect your breathing will become easier and the pain will lessen as well. And fear not -- it will not damage your looks," Aragorn said with a smile. "There will be a scar but it will lighten with time."
Merry rolled his eyes. Pippin returned the smile and bowed his head. "That is a great relief," he said. "It would not do to return to the Shire and be shunned as a scar-ridden monster."
"There is no danger of that," said Aragorn. "The only thing you need fear is that you will be shunned as a young giant."
Pippin laughed but hissed in pain and gripped his ribs. Aragorn's face darkened, causing Merry to look at them both with concern. "Wait here," the man ordered and swung Merry up to sit next to his cousin. They watched Aragorn disappear into the throngs.
Merry glanced sideways at Pippin, who returned the look. "I suppose I'll have to forego the extra *cram*," he said at last.
Merry snorted, half amused and half exasperated. "That is the least of your worries, Pip. Aren't you glad now that I pressed my case?"
"Yes, Merry," Pippin replied dutifully.
Aragorn returned and pressed a steaming mug into Pippin's hands. "This is a tea that will dull the pain. It may also cause you to become sleepy but you will awaken feeling better."
Pippin took a drink and grimaced. "It is hot," he said but continued with small sips. Soon his head began to fall forward but he sat up with a jerk, blinking hard. "You did not say it was so potent," he murmured thickly.
Aragorn folded one of the blankets and guided Pippin onto it. "Sleep, little one." He brushed a hand through the brown curls. "Find a pleasant land of dreams. Sleep long and deep." He whispered a few words in Elvish and Pippin relaxed into slumber.
Merry watched the scene. "He will be all right?"
Aragorn nodded reassuringly. "Do not worry, Merry. He will fine."
*****
Pippin did not wake in the morning, nor in the afternoon. Merry was concerned but Pippin looked peaceful enough, his breathing even and heartbeat strong with no trace of fever or pain. As the company made camp for yet another evening, however, Merry could take no more.
"Pippin, wake up!" he whispered fiercely and shook his cousin's uninjured arm. There was no response. Merry clenched his teeth and tried again. Again, there was no response. He looked about him wildly, looking for someone to help, and saw a flash of white robes and long white hair.
"Gandalf!" he cried. The wizard turned, spotted the hobbit, and neared. But before he could say a word, Merry loosed a torrent of babbling.
"Gandalf, Aragorn gave Pippin a tea to ease his pain and it put him to sleep and I thought nothing of it but he's been sleeping all day and I can't wake him and - " Merry choked but continued, "and I think something's wrong!"
Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "You were not told? How very careless of Aragorn."
"What?"
"Aragorn thought it best to keep Pippin asleep until we reach Ithilien. The bumps in the road do not affect a relaxed body as severely, and we are running short on herbs to treat pain."
"But surely the potion would have worn off by now!" exclaimed Merry.
"But it was not the potion alone," Gandalf said patiently, "but the healing sleep brought on by the hands of the king. It is the same slumber Frodo and Sam are in this very moment. Stop worrying, Merry. All is well with Pippin."
The wizard passed on, leaving Merry only somewhat reassured. It was all very well for Gandalf to take this lightly but how could he be sure? Merry looked down at Pippin sleeping peacefully and prayed that the wizard was right.
