Moria's Revenge, Chapter 12: Stitched
Disclaimer(s): 1) I do not own LotR or any characters. 2) Although I try to keep my treatments accurate, DO NOT TRY THEM AT HOME. ONLY USE HERBS UNDER PROFESSIONAL SUPERVISON.
But, yes, these are actual herbs, I have used the old english names however.
Aragorn looked over Merry's shoulder at Pippin. The injured halfling was motionless except for the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest. The ranger just hoped he had used enough amantilla to keep Pip under while being sutured. A movement at his elbow caught his attention.
"Mr. Strider? I've got the garlic ready." Sam stood at Aragorn's elbow holding up a small dish filled with a yellowish white paste.
"That's perfect Sam. Just set it down on the rock. Now, could you fetch me the boiling pot?" Sam scurried over to the fire and brought back the pot that was sterilizing the instruments. Aragorn drained out the water and carefully arranged them on a towel next to Pippin. Sam's eyes grew wide at the array of large, pointy, metal objects. Aragorn sighed. They did seem rather crude for one so delicate and small as Pippin, but they were the best he could offer.
Merry was holding Pippin's limp hand as tight as he dared. He longed to hold Pip in his arms, but Strider had said that was bad. He watched as Aragorn took a cloth that had been boiling in the pot with the suturing materials. Aragorn unwrapped the now soaked bandages from Pippin's midsection as well as the constricting bandages from his dislocated arms which were also wet.
Merry's breath caught in his throat as he saw the jagged bleeding tear in Pippin's once flawless skin. He turned his head quickly away, and a small cry escaped his throat.
"I know it looks terrible Merry," Strider tried to reassure him. "But once it is sewn together it should heal quite well. Nothing inside has been damaged as far as I can tell."
Pippin's eyes fluttered open and he half looked at Aragorn, not really seeming to register that the ranger was there. Aragorn shook his head in frustration. He had hoped that the amantilla would keep Pippin unconscious whilst he sewed up the wound. He did not dare to give him more, it was so hard to gauge the right amount for a halfling, particularly one as weak as Pippin was at the moment. But he also did not want to delay the procedure any longer. The wound was still seeping blood especially after the bandages had become soaked in the hot spring while Pippin was bathed.
Pippin looked dimly at Strider. He wondered what his next punishment would be. He hoped it would not be so painful this time, maybe he would not hurt him, just humiliate him in some way. Perhaps it would be a whipping, that was bad, but not as bad as some of the other things he had had done to him.
Gimli, Frodo and now Sam were tending the fire and preparing food for the others and the Ranger preferred to keep the other halflings away from poor Pippin's treatment as much as he could. Aragorn called to Boromir and Legolas and they came over at once. "I need to suture the wound now, but the little one is stirring, I fear the pain I will cause him and that he may move and jolt my hand."
Legolas and Boromir moved into Pippin's field of vision. This was obviously going to be a big punishment as they were all gathering and obviously wanting to join in. He had been untied and that was a bad sign, it usually meant abuse of his body in the horrible way, instead of just a beating. //Oh let it just be a beating,// Pippin thought desperately.
"I can hold him still," Boromir suggested, "Although is there nothing you can do to alleviate the pain?"
"The garlic will help numb the area where the sutures will pierce the skin. I greatly fear that any more stress will be too much for him to bear."
"But you must mend this cut soon." Legolas pointed out. "I think without that done, healing will be impossible." The elf moved to just above Pippin's head. "I will send a soothing message while Boromir holds him still, we will make it as easy as we can, but surely you must act now Aragorn."
Pippin wondered why they were taking so long to start. They were obviously planning something really bad. His head felt muzzy and thick, perhaps they had fed him one of those horrible mushrooms again and he didn't remember.
"Yes," the Ranger agreed. But before he continued, he knelt before Merry and took his hands in his. "Merry, I do not want Pip to associate you with this procedure in any way. I am not sure if he knows what is happening to him at the moment and the less you are involved with anything which may hurt him the better."
"No Aragorn," Merry shook his head firmly. "I must stay by Pippin. Please do not send me away just because you are forced to hurt him for his own good. I would not be able to face him later if he thinks I deserted him at such a time. Please let me stay and hold his hand and be with him. I promise not to get upset."
The ranger considered this for a few seconds before answering. "All right, but if you stay you must help." Merry nodded with obvious relief he was not to be banished. "You may hold his hand but you must also pass these instruments to me as I ask for them. Count them from the left, one, two, three, four, five and I will tell you the number of which I want. But do not touch the top part of any one. Can you do that?"
"Of course, I will and thank you Aragorn." Merry took Pippin's hand in his, positioning himself so that he could also reach the sterilised instruments. Pippin did not react to Merry taking his hand but merely looked vacantly at the other hobbit.
//Merry, it's Merry what is he going to do to me?// Pippin shuddered a little at the thought of his cousin, who used to love him before this happened, helping the others to punish him. But then he deserved it. After what the orcs had done, after what he had done with the orcs what more could he expect from Merry? Of course he hated him now, of course he had to punish him, it was all he could do.
Aragorn now applied some numbing herbal paste to either side of Pippin's wound as gently as he could. Pippin looked up at him, still with the vacant expression.
Strider was putting something on him now, it hurt horribly but Pippin tried not to move, in fact he couldn't move, someone, Boromir he thought, was holding him tightly, just as the orcs had held him down when they... when they...
//Pippin, hear my words.// Pippin jumped slightly. The voice was not outside, it seemed to be inside. He didn't like it. They must have given him a mushroom again. That made everything seem unreal. //Pippin, be at peace...// the voice again //...nooooo!! don't! Leave me alone.//
Pippin's mental scream made Legolas retreat swiftly. "I cannot make mental contact with him," he explained to Aragorn, "It is frightening him too much. You will just have to hope the herbs will be enough."
"Very well." Aragorn's face was grim as he picked up the pan with the garlic paste in it. At Merry's suspicious glance he explained, "This is to disinfect the wound, and it will help to numb the pain. There are probably quite a few pieces of dirt from the filthy orc blade lodged in the cut, and they must come out or we risk an infection, possibly even gangrene." Strider dipped the cloth in the paste and carefully began to clean the cut from the centre outwards.
Pippin's body arced in pain, and a howl of agony broke from his lips. Boromir was hard put to keep him still, and in the end had to almost lie on top of Pippin to keep the terrified halfling from jolting Aragorn. Boromir stroked Pippin's hair and tried to tell him that everything would be all right, he was safe now, and even though he was hurting, they were doing everything they could to take it away.
Pippin stared at Boromir in terror, the big man was on top of him, he could not breathe just like when... Now Pippin really started to panic. //no, Boromir, please, you're too big no I can't do it...// At this, Pippin's frantic mind started to shut down in an attempt to save him from the experience he knew was going to follow.
Boromir breathed a sigh of relief when Pippin stopped struggling and his eyes closed. Boromir sat up, but kept his hands on Pip's shoulders to be ready should the little one awake suddenly. The man of Gondor had an inkling of what was truly troubling Pippin, but he did not dare to tell the others. That would just make them more nervous of treating Pip. Although he was certain Aragorn already knew, but the ranger was strong enough to do what had to be done. Boromir had come into contact with many victims of such abuse in his role as Captain of the Guard on Minas Tirith. Pippin was exhibiting all of the symptoms of the mind sickness they often got after being used in such a way. He could only hope that it was reversible in hobbits.
Aragorn had finished cleaning the cut and he picked up the first sharp instrument with which to make a hole in Pippin's skin. He did not have a proper suturing needle but planned to thread the tail hair through matching holes on either side of the cut and draw the skin together and tie it off. He thought he probably needed about five of these sutures which would be ten tiny incisions in Pippin's skin, each excruciatingly painful.
The Ranger pressed down on the awl. Blood welled up around the puncture.
Merry cried out. Aragorn looked at him in annoyance.
"Meriadoc, if you cannot keep yourself under control, you may not be involved."
"I-I'm s-s-sorry, Stri-der, but my hand..." Merry's eyes pinched shut and Aragorn could see tears of pain welling up in them. He looked down at where Merry's hand was clasping Pippin's. His breath caught.
Pippin's hands were white knuckled and crushing Merry's. That had to stop. Such force would be extremely bad for the dislocations. Aragorn quickly reached over and prised Pippin's fingers from Merry's hand. Although Merry protested, Aragorn insisted, and he laid Pip's arm down by his side.
Aragorn began to make the other punctures. Merry was doing better than he had thought he would. Hobbits were truly amazing. They had gone from being pampered and naive to helping with gruesome field surgery in a few short months. Pippin's stomach muscles spasmed at every hole, but he did not appear to be conscious.
Finally all ten holes were complete, and Aragorn prepared to lace them together.
"Merry, hand me a hair and number two." Merry gave him a strand of Bill's hair and the latch hook designated as number two. Aragorn tied the end of the hair in a loop, and opening the latch, slid it up through the middle opening, so it was protruding above the skin. Merry shut his eyes. Aragorn then secured the loop of hair onto the hook and closing the latch, drew it through the hole. He then unhooked the hair, and withdrawing the hook, prepared to put it though the hole opposite of the one he had just threaded, this time from the top. Merry knew better than to watch this time. Aragorn used the awl as a probe, and secured the hair on the hook, and latched it closed with it, to avoid touching the clean instrument with his dirty hands. When he had the hair through both holes, he expertly used the awl and hook to pull it tight and tie it off.
"Merry, take these and hand me number three." Merry carefully took each bloody instrument by the handle and set them in order on the cloth, and handed Aragorn a pair of tiny shears. Aragorn used them to cut off the long ends of the hair.
Working outwards from the centre stitch, Aragorn soon had the wound closed. After he had treated the other wounds in the area, he would give Pippin a sweet weed tea to help stop the bleeding.
Pippin woke again. //What had they done to him? He hurt, hurt, hurt.// His belly was so painful he couldn't sense any other part of his body. He had no arms or legs, no head even. All the chorus pain from his being had diminished behind this one great cacophony of agony in his middle. He so wanted it to go away. If he could have died to escape it that's what he would have done. Instead he moaned a tiny cry that gradually grew into a pitiful keening sound.
"Oh Pippin my sweet, please don't cry!" Merry wrung his hands in anguish. "I know it hurts. But it's to make you better." Merry was crying, large tears rolling down his cheeks.
Pippin's little whine grew more intense, he could no longer sob, he did not have the energy in his body. His eyes were open and staring vacantly at Merry, not understanding why his cousin could look on and not try to stop the pain. He felt his own wet tears run down the side of his face.
Then Merry said something. This was to make him better. That would never be possible, not now. He was a bad, bad hobbit and had done bad things, nothing could make him a better hobbit. That was why he was being hurt. Merry thought it would make him better again, but it was too late for that. Poor Merry, perhaps he didn't know how bad he was.
Suddenly another noise joined Pippin's small whine of agony. A loud mournful howl cut across the glade, swiftly followed by another. Gradually the howls matched the steady rhythm of Pip's keening whine.
"Aragorn, the warg," Gimli came over to where Pip lay. "I cannot quiet her."
"No, she is feeling the little one's pain." Legolas put in. "I doubt she will be distracted from his suffering."
Sam and Frodo were standing by the wailing animal now. She had become quite tame to the Fellowship once she realised that they did not mean to harm her or her pup. "Hush Icicle." Sam had named her Icicle because of her ice white coat. He laid his kindly hand on her thrown back head. "Be still, there's a good warg." But now she could hear Pippin crying and she would not be consoled.
"Let's take her to see Pippin." Frodo suggested. "It may calm her a little."
They untied the leash and led the anxious warg over to Pippin who was still whining in agony.
"Don't let her too near," Aragorn warned. He was preparing to feed Pippin the sweetweed tea that he needed. "There is a great risk of infection at the moment, especially until I have bound this wound again."
Aragorn lifted Pippin's head slightly and put the cup to his lips, but the hobbit turned his head away, letting the hot tea splatter on Aragorn's hand and on his own chest. "Sam, could you fetch me a spoon," Aragorn asked. "That might be easier."
Sam passed Icefang's leash to Frodo and ran off to find a spoon. The warg tried to jerk forward at the change of master to reach her pup, but Frodo managed to hold her back.
Pippin could hear Icefang now, she was still howling every so often, but the cries were now interspersed with whines. He turned his head towards the sound. There was the white coated warg. His only friend, the only one that did not hurt him or try to make him better, because that could not be done. She loved him no matter what. She tried to comfort him when others hurt him and she fed him when others starved him. Pippin did not think these thoughts through in any rational way, he just had a general sense that he had to be with the warg.
He stopped keening and started to mouth desperately, looking frantically from Aragorn to the warg. "Umum... mummuma."
"Pippin, I'm sorry, you can't go to the warg now." Aragorn was in no doubt about what he wanted. "You have to lie still and you have to drink this tea."
"Mummummm." Pippin's incoherent mumbling had at least replaced the heart-rending keening sound. But it was still pitiful and sad, making Frodo cry now as well as Merry.
Sam returned with the spoon and it took four of them, Boromir holding his head, Legolas his arms and Sam his mouth and Aragorn the spoon, to ladle half a cupful of the tea down Pippin's throat.
When they were done Aragorn bound up the wound as gently as he could, whilst still keeping the binding tight and secure and laid Pippin back down.
Still he whimpered, "Ummummmm mmummmermmer," the whole time his frantic eyes moving from Aragorn to the warg.
"All right," Aragorn finally gave way. The wound was covered now and although the warg was flea ridden, so too was Pippin. That treatment was still to come. "Let the warg come to him."
Frodo let go of the leash and Icefang crept forward on her belly, sniffing tentatively at Pippin. She could sense that he was badly hurt again and very gently, without disturbing him too much, she curled around his body. Pippin murmured softly burying his face into her coat and at last they both stopped whining. He continued to shake for a little while and Icefang looked up at Aragorn and whimpered slightly.
"I'm sorry my lady," he said to the warg. "I've done all I can, it's up to you now."
But gradually the shaking subsided and Pippin finally fell asleep, his breathing deepening and slowing in time with what he thought was his only friend.
***
Disclaimer(s): 1) I do not own LotR or any characters. 2) Although I try to keep my treatments accurate, DO NOT TRY THEM AT HOME. ONLY USE HERBS UNDER PROFESSIONAL SUPERVISON.
But, yes, these are actual herbs, I have used the old english names however.
Aragorn looked over Merry's shoulder at Pippin. The injured halfling was motionless except for the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest. The ranger just hoped he had used enough amantilla to keep Pip under while being sutured. A movement at his elbow caught his attention.
"Mr. Strider? I've got the garlic ready." Sam stood at Aragorn's elbow holding up a small dish filled with a yellowish white paste.
"That's perfect Sam. Just set it down on the rock. Now, could you fetch me the boiling pot?" Sam scurried over to the fire and brought back the pot that was sterilizing the instruments. Aragorn drained out the water and carefully arranged them on a towel next to Pippin. Sam's eyes grew wide at the array of large, pointy, metal objects. Aragorn sighed. They did seem rather crude for one so delicate and small as Pippin, but they were the best he could offer.
Merry was holding Pippin's limp hand as tight as he dared. He longed to hold Pip in his arms, but Strider had said that was bad. He watched as Aragorn took a cloth that had been boiling in the pot with the suturing materials. Aragorn unwrapped the now soaked bandages from Pippin's midsection as well as the constricting bandages from his dislocated arms which were also wet.
Merry's breath caught in his throat as he saw the jagged bleeding tear in Pippin's once flawless skin. He turned his head quickly away, and a small cry escaped his throat.
"I know it looks terrible Merry," Strider tried to reassure him. "But once it is sewn together it should heal quite well. Nothing inside has been damaged as far as I can tell."
Pippin's eyes fluttered open and he half looked at Aragorn, not really seeming to register that the ranger was there. Aragorn shook his head in frustration. He had hoped that the amantilla would keep Pippin unconscious whilst he sewed up the wound. He did not dare to give him more, it was so hard to gauge the right amount for a halfling, particularly one as weak as Pippin was at the moment. But he also did not want to delay the procedure any longer. The wound was still seeping blood especially after the bandages had become soaked in the hot spring while Pippin was bathed.
Pippin looked dimly at Strider. He wondered what his next punishment would be. He hoped it would not be so painful this time, maybe he would not hurt him, just humiliate him in some way. Perhaps it would be a whipping, that was bad, but not as bad as some of the other things he had had done to him.
Gimli, Frodo and now Sam were tending the fire and preparing food for the others and the Ranger preferred to keep the other halflings away from poor Pippin's treatment as much as he could. Aragorn called to Boromir and Legolas and they came over at once. "I need to suture the wound now, but the little one is stirring, I fear the pain I will cause him and that he may move and jolt my hand."
Legolas and Boromir moved into Pippin's field of vision. This was obviously going to be a big punishment as they were all gathering and obviously wanting to join in. He had been untied and that was a bad sign, it usually meant abuse of his body in the horrible way, instead of just a beating. //Oh let it just be a beating,// Pippin thought desperately.
"I can hold him still," Boromir suggested, "Although is there nothing you can do to alleviate the pain?"
"The garlic will help numb the area where the sutures will pierce the skin. I greatly fear that any more stress will be too much for him to bear."
"But you must mend this cut soon." Legolas pointed out. "I think without that done, healing will be impossible." The elf moved to just above Pippin's head. "I will send a soothing message while Boromir holds him still, we will make it as easy as we can, but surely you must act now Aragorn."
Pippin wondered why they were taking so long to start. They were obviously planning something really bad. His head felt muzzy and thick, perhaps they had fed him one of those horrible mushrooms again and he didn't remember.
"Yes," the Ranger agreed. But before he continued, he knelt before Merry and took his hands in his. "Merry, I do not want Pip to associate you with this procedure in any way. I am not sure if he knows what is happening to him at the moment and the less you are involved with anything which may hurt him the better."
"No Aragorn," Merry shook his head firmly. "I must stay by Pippin. Please do not send me away just because you are forced to hurt him for his own good. I would not be able to face him later if he thinks I deserted him at such a time. Please let me stay and hold his hand and be with him. I promise not to get upset."
The ranger considered this for a few seconds before answering. "All right, but if you stay you must help." Merry nodded with obvious relief he was not to be banished. "You may hold his hand but you must also pass these instruments to me as I ask for them. Count them from the left, one, two, three, four, five and I will tell you the number of which I want. But do not touch the top part of any one. Can you do that?"
"Of course, I will and thank you Aragorn." Merry took Pippin's hand in his, positioning himself so that he could also reach the sterilised instruments. Pippin did not react to Merry taking his hand but merely looked vacantly at the other hobbit.
//Merry, it's Merry what is he going to do to me?// Pippin shuddered a little at the thought of his cousin, who used to love him before this happened, helping the others to punish him. But then he deserved it. After what the orcs had done, after what he had done with the orcs what more could he expect from Merry? Of course he hated him now, of course he had to punish him, it was all he could do.
Aragorn now applied some numbing herbal paste to either side of Pippin's wound as gently as he could. Pippin looked up at him, still with the vacant expression.
Strider was putting something on him now, it hurt horribly but Pippin tried not to move, in fact he couldn't move, someone, Boromir he thought, was holding him tightly, just as the orcs had held him down when they... when they...
//Pippin, hear my words.// Pippin jumped slightly. The voice was not outside, it seemed to be inside. He didn't like it. They must have given him a mushroom again. That made everything seem unreal. //Pippin, be at peace...// the voice again //...nooooo!! don't! Leave me alone.//
Pippin's mental scream made Legolas retreat swiftly. "I cannot make mental contact with him," he explained to Aragorn, "It is frightening him too much. You will just have to hope the herbs will be enough."
"Very well." Aragorn's face was grim as he picked up the pan with the garlic paste in it. At Merry's suspicious glance he explained, "This is to disinfect the wound, and it will help to numb the pain. There are probably quite a few pieces of dirt from the filthy orc blade lodged in the cut, and they must come out or we risk an infection, possibly even gangrene." Strider dipped the cloth in the paste and carefully began to clean the cut from the centre outwards.
Pippin's body arced in pain, and a howl of agony broke from his lips. Boromir was hard put to keep him still, and in the end had to almost lie on top of Pippin to keep the terrified halfling from jolting Aragorn. Boromir stroked Pippin's hair and tried to tell him that everything would be all right, he was safe now, and even though he was hurting, they were doing everything they could to take it away.
Pippin stared at Boromir in terror, the big man was on top of him, he could not breathe just like when... Now Pippin really started to panic. //no, Boromir, please, you're too big no I can't do it...// At this, Pippin's frantic mind started to shut down in an attempt to save him from the experience he knew was going to follow.
Boromir breathed a sigh of relief when Pippin stopped struggling and his eyes closed. Boromir sat up, but kept his hands on Pip's shoulders to be ready should the little one awake suddenly. The man of Gondor had an inkling of what was truly troubling Pippin, but he did not dare to tell the others. That would just make them more nervous of treating Pip. Although he was certain Aragorn already knew, but the ranger was strong enough to do what had to be done. Boromir had come into contact with many victims of such abuse in his role as Captain of the Guard on Minas Tirith. Pippin was exhibiting all of the symptoms of the mind sickness they often got after being used in such a way. He could only hope that it was reversible in hobbits.
Aragorn had finished cleaning the cut and he picked up the first sharp instrument with which to make a hole in Pippin's skin. He did not have a proper suturing needle but planned to thread the tail hair through matching holes on either side of the cut and draw the skin together and tie it off. He thought he probably needed about five of these sutures which would be ten tiny incisions in Pippin's skin, each excruciatingly painful.
The Ranger pressed down on the awl. Blood welled up around the puncture.
Merry cried out. Aragorn looked at him in annoyance.
"Meriadoc, if you cannot keep yourself under control, you may not be involved."
"I-I'm s-s-sorry, Stri-der, but my hand..." Merry's eyes pinched shut and Aragorn could see tears of pain welling up in them. He looked down at where Merry's hand was clasping Pippin's. His breath caught.
Pippin's hands were white knuckled and crushing Merry's. That had to stop. Such force would be extremely bad for the dislocations. Aragorn quickly reached over and prised Pippin's fingers from Merry's hand. Although Merry protested, Aragorn insisted, and he laid Pip's arm down by his side.
Aragorn began to make the other punctures. Merry was doing better than he had thought he would. Hobbits were truly amazing. They had gone from being pampered and naive to helping with gruesome field surgery in a few short months. Pippin's stomach muscles spasmed at every hole, but he did not appear to be conscious.
Finally all ten holes were complete, and Aragorn prepared to lace them together.
"Merry, hand me a hair and number two." Merry gave him a strand of Bill's hair and the latch hook designated as number two. Aragorn tied the end of the hair in a loop, and opening the latch, slid it up through the middle opening, so it was protruding above the skin. Merry shut his eyes. Aragorn then secured the loop of hair onto the hook and closing the latch, drew it through the hole. He then unhooked the hair, and withdrawing the hook, prepared to put it though the hole opposite of the one he had just threaded, this time from the top. Merry knew better than to watch this time. Aragorn used the awl as a probe, and secured the hair on the hook, and latched it closed with it, to avoid touching the clean instrument with his dirty hands. When he had the hair through both holes, he expertly used the awl and hook to pull it tight and tie it off.
"Merry, take these and hand me number three." Merry carefully took each bloody instrument by the handle and set them in order on the cloth, and handed Aragorn a pair of tiny shears. Aragorn used them to cut off the long ends of the hair.
Working outwards from the centre stitch, Aragorn soon had the wound closed. After he had treated the other wounds in the area, he would give Pippin a sweet weed tea to help stop the bleeding.
Pippin woke again. //What had they done to him? He hurt, hurt, hurt.// His belly was so painful he couldn't sense any other part of his body. He had no arms or legs, no head even. All the chorus pain from his being had diminished behind this one great cacophony of agony in his middle. He so wanted it to go away. If he could have died to escape it that's what he would have done. Instead he moaned a tiny cry that gradually grew into a pitiful keening sound.
"Oh Pippin my sweet, please don't cry!" Merry wrung his hands in anguish. "I know it hurts. But it's to make you better." Merry was crying, large tears rolling down his cheeks.
Pippin's little whine grew more intense, he could no longer sob, he did not have the energy in his body. His eyes were open and staring vacantly at Merry, not understanding why his cousin could look on and not try to stop the pain. He felt his own wet tears run down the side of his face.
Then Merry said something. This was to make him better. That would never be possible, not now. He was a bad, bad hobbit and had done bad things, nothing could make him a better hobbit. That was why he was being hurt. Merry thought it would make him better again, but it was too late for that. Poor Merry, perhaps he didn't know how bad he was.
Suddenly another noise joined Pippin's small whine of agony. A loud mournful howl cut across the glade, swiftly followed by another. Gradually the howls matched the steady rhythm of Pip's keening whine.
"Aragorn, the warg," Gimli came over to where Pip lay. "I cannot quiet her."
"No, she is feeling the little one's pain." Legolas put in. "I doubt she will be distracted from his suffering."
Sam and Frodo were standing by the wailing animal now. She had become quite tame to the Fellowship once she realised that they did not mean to harm her or her pup. "Hush Icicle." Sam had named her Icicle because of her ice white coat. He laid his kindly hand on her thrown back head. "Be still, there's a good warg." But now she could hear Pippin crying and she would not be consoled.
"Let's take her to see Pippin." Frodo suggested. "It may calm her a little."
They untied the leash and led the anxious warg over to Pippin who was still whining in agony.
"Don't let her too near," Aragorn warned. He was preparing to feed Pippin the sweetweed tea that he needed. "There is a great risk of infection at the moment, especially until I have bound this wound again."
Aragorn lifted Pippin's head slightly and put the cup to his lips, but the hobbit turned his head away, letting the hot tea splatter on Aragorn's hand and on his own chest. "Sam, could you fetch me a spoon," Aragorn asked. "That might be easier."
Sam passed Icefang's leash to Frodo and ran off to find a spoon. The warg tried to jerk forward at the change of master to reach her pup, but Frodo managed to hold her back.
Pippin could hear Icefang now, she was still howling every so often, but the cries were now interspersed with whines. He turned his head towards the sound. There was the white coated warg. His only friend, the only one that did not hurt him or try to make him better, because that could not be done. She loved him no matter what. She tried to comfort him when others hurt him and she fed him when others starved him. Pippin did not think these thoughts through in any rational way, he just had a general sense that he had to be with the warg.
He stopped keening and started to mouth desperately, looking frantically from Aragorn to the warg. "Umum... mummuma."
"Pippin, I'm sorry, you can't go to the warg now." Aragorn was in no doubt about what he wanted. "You have to lie still and you have to drink this tea."
"Mummummm." Pippin's incoherent mumbling had at least replaced the heart-rending keening sound. But it was still pitiful and sad, making Frodo cry now as well as Merry.
Sam returned with the spoon and it took four of them, Boromir holding his head, Legolas his arms and Sam his mouth and Aragorn the spoon, to ladle half a cupful of the tea down Pippin's throat.
When they were done Aragorn bound up the wound as gently as he could, whilst still keeping the binding tight and secure and laid Pippin back down.
Still he whimpered, "Ummummmm mmummmermmer," the whole time his frantic eyes moving from Aragorn to the warg.
"All right," Aragorn finally gave way. The wound was covered now and although the warg was flea ridden, so too was Pippin. That treatment was still to come. "Let the warg come to him."
Frodo let go of the leash and Icefang crept forward on her belly, sniffing tentatively at Pippin. She could sense that he was badly hurt again and very gently, without disturbing him too much, she curled around his body. Pippin murmured softly burying his face into her coat and at last they both stopped whining. He continued to shake for a little while and Icefang looked up at Aragorn and whimpered slightly.
"I'm sorry my lady," he said to the warg. "I've done all I can, it's up to you now."
But gradually the shaking subsided and Pippin finally fell asleep, his breathing deepening and slowing in time with what he thought was his only friend.
***