Title: Splinter
Author:Angie
This was inspired by an interview with Dominic.
By the time the ferry reached the other side of the Brandywine the four hobbits had caught their breath enough to stop panting and shaking with the cold, and the fright they had all had. Even Pippin had been scared into silence. As soon as the ferry hit the bank they were all off it and running for the shelter of the trees again. They did not speak again for some time and probably would have stayed silent for longer had Pippin not chirped up.
"Merry, you're limping!"
Frodo's attention was immediately drawn from his own inner contemplation. They had not reached Bree and already one of his friends was hurt. He should have demanded they return home.
"Merry what is it?"
They huddled round in a group and Merry plopped to the wet earth. "I tore my foot up running to the ferry. That landing stage is lethal but I've never had to sprint it before."
"Is it bleeding badly?" Pip wanted to know.
"It's too dark to see and we can't make a light," Merry said. "My foot is so soaked I can't tell what is blood and what is water."
"Does it hurt much?" Pip asked.
"No, Pip," said Merry lightly. "It will be alright – it's probably just a splinter. Lets keep going."
The four continued their cautious progress through the woods and under cover of the darkness Frodo moved closer to his cousin. "Merry? How bad is it really?"
Merry's voice was pinched. "It's pretty bad, Frodo. It hurts awfully. I think I have a piece of wood in my foot."
Frodo reached out and put his shoulder under Merry's. "Lean on me and we will try to make it to Bree."
The party were already hampered by the dark and by the wet and progress was slow. They stopped at intervals listening intently for any night sound. Pippin all but shrieked out loud when a fox barked not too far off.
Merry slowly became a heavier and heavier weight on Frodo's shoulder. In the dark they stumbled often but some how the two cousins held each other up by sheer determination.
Frodo could hear Merry's hissed intakes of breath and knew the Brandybuck must be in a lot of pain. They hardly spoke, but just pushed on into the night. Every now and again Merry would issue a direction to take and Frodo could hear the pinched edge of pain in his voice.
'This is all my fault,' Frodo told himself. 'I should have insisted they turned back after we encountered the rider'. The elder cousin berated himself for his weakness. 'How can I carry the Ring when I cannot look after my cousins?' He felt dreadful. Each time Merry stumbled and hissed in pain Frodo felt it like a knife through his own heart.
When the rain started they merely pulled up their hoods and carried on. By the time the lights of Bree came into sight they were all soaked and dripping. Hating to leave the cover of the trees they ran across the open and muddy space to the gates to knock.
As it was the streets of Bree were not much comfort. Their feet kept slipping in the mud as they dodged round the Big people – most of who seemed to be oblivious to anything below their own eye lined. They all put fell into the door of the Prancing Pony and stood in a miserable huddle after being told of Gandalf's absence.
It was Sam who finally voiced some sense into the bewildered group and secured them a table in a relatively quiet part of the bar, and, even more welcome, food and drinks. While the food was being bought to them Sam himself asked for and returned with a small bowl of water and a clean looking cloth.
"Mr Merry," he said. "Would you mind if I saw to your foot."
Merry, pale and shaky, sat down at the bench and lifted his foot for Sam's inspection. "It's not pretty," he warned the gardener. "It feels very badly torn up."
"Don't you worry, Mr Merry," Sam said as he took Merry's proffered ankle. "I'll take a look at it now and clean it – then we can send for a healer."
Sam used the cloth dipped in water to wipe away the filth and mud of the road and steadily the water in the bowl turned black.
"How bad is it?" Pippin asked in fascination, trying to crane round for a look.
Sam was silent.
"You can tell us," said Merry shakily.
"One moment," said Sam. He leaned forwards close to the sole of Merry's injured foot. He peered closely, and then, with his thumb nail and forefinger pinched at something and pulled.
Merry yelped. "What did you do that for!" he cried in outrage.
Sam dropped Merry's foot unceremoniously. He held up to the light a tiny slither of barely visible wood.
Frodo looked at the splinter, he looked at Merry's foot – clean now, no sign of blood, in fact, no sign of a wound at all, and he calmly reached out and clipped Merry over the back of his head. "Fool of a Brandybuck!"
end