In An Age Before – Part 159
Now Helluin and Beinvír accompanied the Perian 'cross Eriador to the Shire, and he drove them at what he reckoned to be a furious pace. The two ellith walked at what they reckoned to be an easy pace, sometimes slowing apurpose so as not to leave him behind, and at other times simply stopping to allow him to catch up. Along the way they saw a few more refugees whilst still in Rhudaur, and these they gave a wide berth, as did the refugees to them. They didn't see anyone in Cardolan, as they hadn't gone 'nigh the road after crossing the Last Bridge. For this, the Halfling was quite grateful.
"I thank ye fer lookin' to me welfare, an keepin' clear 'o tha sickly masses," he said.
They didn't bother to tell him that everyone in northern Cardolan was already dead.
"We took this same route when we came to Rhudaur," Helluin told him, "save that we began on the South Road north of Tharbad."
"Yer lucky ta still be livin'," he said, scarcely disguising his horror. It seemed he had heard somewhat of the plague's ravaging of that city. "I wouldna' go near it fer all the 'taters in the South Farthing," he added.
"Neither shalt we, nor to Dunland or points south," Beinvír assured him.
"Dunland…" he said, shivering. "Stoors barely 'scaped Dunland. Fled ta Sûza jus' in time, that bein' six years past," he declared, shaking his head.
The mention of the Stoors brought memories of Dregla the fisherman and his pitiful collection of sticks, that treacherous 'boat' which had escaped him on the river Ninglor just ere they'd met him. In a great twist of irony, they had been forced to ride that poor excuse for a raft to Osgiliath in the days of King Eldacar and the Kinslaying.
Somewhere along their way the Halfling had declared his name to be Isengrub son of Weaselbob, from Tickburrow in the West Farthing. Helluin and Beinvír had been hard pressed to stifle their mirth at that, and afterwards they avoided saying it lest they snort or cackle. Even so, at times one or the other would spontaneously burst into a fit of laughter, at which point the other would have to walk away ere she was infected too.
It turned out that their journey took the same 'fortnight an' six' that Isengrub had spent traveling from the Shire to Rhudaur. They had skirted the Barrow Downs to the west, Helluin and Beinvír making haste, for a look from the downs revealed the eastern verge of the Old Forest, the Withywindle, and the very meadow where Iarwain's house was sometimes wont to appear. They escaped that precinct without incident and crossed the bridge o'er Baranduin, thereby entering the Shire. The better part of another day's march brought them to the hamlet of Tickburrow, 'nigh the western end of the Green Hill Country. The unlikely trio arrived on 22 Narbeleth, with a dusting of snow.
Tickburrow turned out to be a small collection of residence holes dug into both sides of a narrow ghyll, with a pleasant stream, now skinned with ice, meandering through its bottomland and crossed by a wooden bridge. The hamlet's fields, fallow in this season, lay above the ghyll on the flatter highlands to either side. In a small meadow 'twixt patches of woods, alongside the track leading into the settlement, the Elves marked a number of new graves.
Isengrub marched straight away to a hole on the eastern side of the ghyll, and urged the two ellith quickly through its round door as though leaving it open would invite in the plague. Helluin and Beinvír rightly assumed 'twas his home, and the Halfling immediately announced their return to the rest of his family.
"Ho! I'm home with aid. C'mon out an greet me guests," he called down the central hallway.
Helluin and Beinvír looked into each other's eyes and spoke to each other silently.
'Tis too quiet in here, meldanya, and I fear the worst, Helluin said.
If 'tis now a home of the dead, they are no longer in residence, for I smell 'naught of cadavers or death, the Green Elf observed.
Nor I, meleth nín. Perhaps they have already been buried, Helluin said, recalling the graveyard.
Perhaps, my love. 'Tis most depressing. Beinvír shook her head sadly. I feel sorrow for Isengrub, having journeyed far and perhaps missed the passing of his family.
Yet it turned out that Isengrub's family had not entirely fallen to the plague. He came back into the entrance hall from rooms somewhere further within, carrying a note. There were tears running down his cheeks and it took a while ere he spoke.
"Found this'n on the kitchen table," he finally said. "Says me ma 'n pa took sickly with plague a fortnight after I left, 'n passed a week later. Me wife's gone ta stay with our son 'n his wife 'cross the river."
"I am sorry for thy loss, my friend," Helluin told him. "'Twas 'naught that thou could have done even had thou stayed."
"'Tis no way to know who shalt be struck and who not, Isengrub. I pray thee, keep hope. Shalt we not go to thy wife? Surely she shalt be glad to find thee well," Beinvír said.
The Halfling nodded in agreement with this course. He stuffed the note into a pocket, blew his nose on a filthy handkerchief, and rebuttoned his coat. A woolen a muffler he wrapped 'round his neck and then donned a pair of gloves. He led the way out of his door and down the track towards the wooden bridge with the two ellith following behind. They crossed the 'river' and followed the dirt road as it paced the stream for a few dozen yards ere it turned uphill. Soon they came to another Hobbit hole, also with a round door, this one painted a subdued green, and there he rapped several times with his knuckles.
When no answer came after the expected pause, he rapped again and called out, saying, "Ho! Anyone home? 'Tis Isengrub returned with aid 'an Elfish magick."
Again they waited, and again there was no answer. At last Isengrub tried the door knob, and finding it unlocked, pushed open the door. A backwash of stench hit them and Helluin laid a hand firmly on his shoulder, stopping him from entering.
"This home hosts a scent most unwholesome, though from what cause, I cannot yet tell. I pray thee, allow us to precede thee inside lest the pestilence has entered and thou become infected."
'Twas easy for the Elves to see the conflict in Isengrub's eyes. He was both terrified of what might lie within, and dying to discover the condition of his wife, son, and daughter-in-law. He closed his eyes and trembled in a most piteous fashion.
"Thou know that Elvish folk cannot be infected by disease, my friend. Allow us to discover what lies within," Beinvír said. "We shalt inform thee in timely fashion."
Finally Isengrub nodded to them and then sat down on a bench that stood 'nigh the door. There he put his head in his hands as worry and sorrow took him. He was sobbing softly as Helluin and Beinvír entered the rotten house.
Upon many a battlefield we have stood, my love, and this reek tells not of corpses, the dark Noldo said silently to Beinvír.
Aye, the Green Elf agreed, 'tis more akin to the stench of the midden heap that once lay 'nigh the Great Mead Hall of King Lüdhgavia, or perhaps the flotsam of Osgiliath.
The two ellith continued down the entrance hall, calling out to any within that might answer. Upon a wall they saw a row of coat hooks where hung a heavy coat and two hooded cloaks. Three pairs of boots stood lined up 'neath them. Room by room they explored the residence, at first finding that comfortable level of disarray characteristic of homes well lived in. A parlor, sewing room, and library lay towards the front of the house, followed by a large dining room and an even larger kitchen, with a sizable and well-provisioned walk-in pantry at the rear.
In the dining room, they found a table strewn with dishes and cutlery, as from many meals set one atop the last. Uneaten food lay rotting on plates. Wine and ale stagnated in goblets or cups, and milk curdled in glasses. The stench there was noticeable, but grew stronger as they entered the kitchen. Coming thither they discovered a repellent level of miasma arising from myriad sources. Countertops hosted dishes of rancid butter, and cream. On a deep windowsill, a partially eaten meat pie grew a fur of mold. Milking cans now filled with curds and whey sat on the floor in a corner, whilst upon a platter, a roasted goose had progressed to a gelatin, foul and bedecked with bones, and leaking unwholesome fluids. Upon a cutting board, a loaf grew a blue-green mold, but the worst was surely the sink.
In the large clay basin built into the top of a cabinet lay many unwashed dishes, surrounded by stagnant water upon which floated the greasy skin of a bacterial mat. Small bubbles percolated lazily to the surface, and maggots writhed amidst the foam. O'erhead, a fowl had been hung to tenderize, but most of its flesh had long sloughed free of the bones and dropped into the water in the sink where it macerated and contributed its stench to the unpleasant whole.
If the kitchen had been worse than the dining room, the pantry trumped it by far. A stack of cheeses rotted upon a shelf. A side of bacon, a leg of lamb, and a ham hung in the center of the room, their fats going rancid and their flesh putrefying, dripping as they decomposed, their fetid juices having soaked into the floor boards. A piece of the ham had fallen, crushing a tray of raw eggs that were now clotted and producing a stench of sulfur. A drawer of flour hung open, crawling with weevils. 'Twas so utterly repulsive as to make the two ellith physically queasy, and they had to choke back their gorge and blink.
"By the Valar, who would have thought that the Perrianath had wrought so faithful an imitation of the dungeons 'neath Sauron's Black Tower," the dark Noldo muttered.
"Oh come now, beloved, surely 'tis not so bad," Beinvír said.
"I find it lacking only the Orkish gaolers and the thousands of despairing captives."
Helluin slammed the pantry door shut in disgust, though 'twas far too late to accomplish 'aught that would limit the spread of the reek. Passing back through the kitchen, she spun and kicked the cutting board with its rotten loaf off the table and into the sink. That at least prompted a cackle of glee, but more importantly, it focused her mind against the nausea. Then they fled to the entrance hall and walked in the opposite direction, down a doglegged corridor that led to the more private spaces of the residence.
It seemed that the sharp dogleg had achieved its purpose, for past it the smell was much reduced. An unoccupied washroom they passed upon their right side, and then an empty bedroom upon their left. A smaller bedroom they found next upon the right. 'Twas decorated and furnished as a nursery, though Isengrub had not spoken of any children. Perhaps it spoke of a hope for the future. Two further doors they saw, both closed. One stood on their left, the other straight ahead at the end of the hall.
"I mark no stench of death here," Beinvír said after carefully sniffing the air outside the door on their left. She had sidestepped a pile of dried vomit on the carpet.
"Perhaps 'tis 'naught but a hallway closet," Helluin said, regarding the closed door.
"Perhaps," the Green Elf allowed as she set a hand on the doorknob.
She opened the door and found that 'twas indeed a bedroom. As she stepped in, she called out, "hello. Is anyone here?"
Helluin followed her in and the two ellith marked a figure abed, a middle-aged female Halfling soaked in sweat, delirious, her breathing labored. She had kicked off her covers at some point, though now she lay still.
Helluin came to kneel beside her and laid a hand on her forehead. She concentrated a short while and then said, "she is feverish and her mind has gone far within. I deem that she has been sick for many days. 'Tis the plague, I wager, though I cannot be sure, for I have not seen it run its course."
"Let us make haste to check the other room," Beinvír said.
To this, the Noldo nodded in agreement and stood from the bedside. They went to the door at the end of the hall and opened it, announcing themselves as they walked in. 'Twas another bedroom indeed. The two ellith found a Hobbit couple lying together in a larger bed, both in much the same condition. Helluin found them feverish and unresponsive.
"I deem we should remove them all from this house to some more wholesome place," Helluin said as she looked about the bedroom.
The space was musty and smelled of sickness from being closed up, and they saw more dried vomit on the floor. A filled chamber pot sat 'neath a nightstand in a corner.
Beinvír agreed wholeheartedly with that course, for none aspiring to health would benefit from remaining confined in such surroundings.
They swaddled the three Perianin in clean blankets from a closet and carried them out into the fresh air. The chill seemed to revive them a bit, for they groaned and moved weakly. Isengrub was both o'erjoyed to find them alive, and terrified of their affliction. He wrapped the muffler twice 'round his face to breath through ere he came to them and confirmed their identities. The woman was indeed his wife, Spitoonia, whilst the couple were his son, Hoden, and daughter-in-law, Fistula. Helluin and Beinvír were hard pressed not to guffaw at their names.
"Les' bring 'em to me home, 'n I'll stay in the guest rooms," he said.
They carried the three down the path and 'cross the bridge, then up to Isengrub's home whilst he muttered and fretted o'er them the whole way. At first he'd tried to coax replies from the sick, but they were barely conscious and made little response.
"I deem them in need of water first," Helluin said, "for judging by the vomit and their being bed ridden, they are almost certainly afflicted by simple thirst."
"Fresh air and sunlight should be helpful too," Beinvír said, "and perhaps some herbs may assuage their fevers. I doubt not that they are weak from lack of food as well, though it may be days ere they can take 'aught for nourishment."
They were finally able to bring the three into Isengrub's home, and 'twas a delight to be in clean surroundings. The three patients were lain abed in clean nightclothes, and the two ellith got them to accept some cool water, slowly, sip by sip. That seemed to revive them a bit, and they looked about, delirious still, but aware that they had been moved. They even seemed to recognize Isengrub, to his great relief.
When he realized that his wife and children were too weak to hold a conversation, Isengrub busied himself in the kitchen, brewing a curative broth of chickens according to the medicinal lore of his people. Beinvír had him add garlic, sweet basil, and wild marjoram. Also a tea was steeped with cone flower, yarrow, and white willow, and then allowed to cool. This the farmer offered to his wife, son, and daughter-in-law, and to his credit, he managed to get each to take a few sips.
Upon the following morn the three patients were still living, and Helluin and Beinvír carried them outside to sit in the sun for a half-hour on one of the two benches that flanked the door. The fresh air seemed to do them good, and despite the cold, they had been well wrapped in blankets and took no ill from it. When they were brought back indoors, they sat at the dining table and managed to drink a few spoonfuls each if Isengrub's chicken broth.
The third day came, and when Isengrub's wife, Spitoonia was actually lucid for a spell, she whispered to her husband a request for the cut glass crystal that hung in the kitchen window of her son's house. In sunlight, the prism cast rainbow lights upon the walls and floor, an effect that she found cheering. The effort of speech brought on a fit of coughing. Her desire Isengrub conveyed to the two ellith, and they, happy to have a short break from the sick house, agreed to undertake the errand. Ere they left, Beinvír gave the farmer a strip of heavy linen, which she advised him to wear o'er his nose and mouth whilst he tended his wife, son, and daughter-in-law.
"Perhaps t'will save him from breathing in 'aught that they cough out," she said to Helluin as they descended the path to the bridge.
"Perhaps," Helluin said, "for such serves in places filled with smoke."
They made their way to the son's house, gritting their teeth at the prospect of enduring again the vile airs within. Helluin opened the door and they stood upon the threshold as the miasma flowed out 'round them, shaking their heads and anticipating great suffering. If anything, the stench was worse than aforetime, for two full days had passed and the decomposition had advanced. Straight away they went to the kitchen, intending to spend the minimum time required within the premises.
Sure enough, the crystal was hanging in the window, casting its rainbows upon walls and floor, the only fair thing to be seen. Rather than spending the time to undo the knot in the string from which it hung, Helluin held it and sliced the line with her dagger.
"Look at this, my love," Beinvír said, pointing into the sink with horrified fascination.
"'Tis all rotten, and were this house mine, I should burn it down rather than attempt to cleanse it," the Noldo said in disgust.
"Ere thou burn it down, I pray thee look at this mold. Does 'aught strike thee as strange about it?" The Green Elf asked.
Helluin looked more closely into the sink. Topmost was the cutting board that she had kicked off the table. It lay half-submerged amidst the flotsam, with the bread loaf still adhered in place upon it, blue-green with mold.
"All I see here disgusts me, beloved. What has so captured thine attention?"
"Indeed all is revolting, and yet t'would seem that about the loaf, the putrescence has retreated a pace," Beinvír said.
Helluin looked and saw precisely that which her beloved described. In a ring about the rotten loaf lay a space clean of all other mold. The flotsam had withdrawn an inch. 'Twas certainly odd to her, but such esoterica had not been her study, and perhaps 'twas not so uncommon after all. She shook her head.
"Huh," she said. "Thou art correct, meldanya. I have no idea why such should be. The bread is far from the worst of the corruption in the sink. Whyfor then should all else shy from it?"
"I too understand it not, yet I deem there may be some wisdom to be gleaned in it."
The Noldo looked askance at her for a moment and said, "perhaps the Wise know 'aught of it. Mithrandir may be learned in the ways of rot, or maybe Elrond has a book about it. That blue-green mold I have seen oft times upon baked goods and fruit, yet ne'er aforetime in such circumstances as would make such an action apparent. Perhaps thou should write a book for the Peredhel."
The Green Elf rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but when she looked to Helluin, she marked the grin curling her lips.
"In a basket upon the end of the counter there are several baker's rolls with that same blue-green mold," Helluin said, "or at least they were there upon our last visit. Perhaps thou could take one and conduct…experiments."
Beinvír looked 'til she found the basket of rolls. Sure enough, a half-dozen lay there and all were coated with the mold. When she turned back, Helluin was dipping out a saucer full of the most fetid fluid from the sink, including a skin of flotsam and even a few maggots. This she set on the table, saying, "thy laboratory awaits thee, meleth nín."
The Green Elf set a roll in the saucer and said, "I shalt return upon the morrow and see if the phenomenon repeats itself true. I find myself…curious."
Having claimed the crystal, they fled the rotting house and returned to Isengrub's home. Helluin hung the crystal in the bedroom window and saw a flock of rainbows projected onto the coverlet of Spitoonia's bed, slowly moving as the crystal rotated on the end of its string. It brought a smile to her face.
Upon the following morn of the fourth day they found their three patients somewhat weaker. None were lucid, and their fevered stupors were interrupted only by fits of coughing. Ne'ertheless, two ellith hauled them out onto the bench for a half-hour in the sun ere returning them to their beds. Isengrub was barely able to get any of them to take even a sip of broth, and he wrung his hands and muttered darkly to himself after.
Helluin and Beinvír returned to the reeking house of Hoden and Fistula 'round noon to view the results of their experiment. In the kitchen they found the roll upon the saucer where they had left it, and to their astonishment, they saw that 'round it the fluid was well 'nigh clear. But a few fragments of the layer of flotsam remained, whilst the maggots had sunk to the bottom and drowned.
"Well, huh. Who'd have thought…" Helluin said, shaking her head in amazement.
"Perhaps I shalt indeed write a book," Beinvír said, a broad smile upon her face.
They gathered up the basket of rolls and sliced off the still-dry tops of the loaf in the sink and the test roll. On the dining room table they found a couple of partially eaten scones with the same blue-green mold and took them as well. Thereafter they fled the rotten house and made their way back to the path leading down to the bridge.
After crossing the creek, they climbed back uphill towards Isengrub's home. 'Neath a hedgerow partway up, they heard a muffled mewling and discovered a cat with coat of black, sickened by the plague and bracketed by vomit afore and diarrhoea behind. 'Twas most pitiful, lying enfeebled upon its side with legs making vague motions derived from walking, whilst its tail lay flaccid in the dirt. It seemed not to notice the two ellith at all, but continued thus with labored breath and shivers. After a few moments, they passed it by.
When they returned to Isengrub's house, they took all their moldy breads and set them together in a large, rectangular cake pan they had found in the pantry. To it they added many slices of wholesome bread, and then set a cookie sheet o'er the top as a cover. The two ellith hoped that in the warmth of Isengrub's home, where fires had been kindled upon the hearths in the kitchen, parlor, and each bedroom, the mold would grow faster, giving them an even greater source of whatsoe'er healing 'magick' lay within.
"Pray disturb not our experiment, my friend," Helluin said to the Perian when he marked the large, covered cake pan sitting on his kitchen table.
"Whatcha got there, Elf Helluin," he asked. He had to lift the cookie sheet for a peek, and after looking, he said, "rotted bread? Ya want rotted bread, I'll give ya rotted bread."
He left the kitchen and went outside. When he came back in, he had four loaves of various types, all covered with the blue-green mold.
"Rotted whilst on me journey, but I'm willin' ta share wi' friends," he said, looking askance at them. They seemed strangely merry to receive his gift of rotten bread.
Having now double the mold they had gleaned from Hoden and Fistula's putrid house, the two ellith abandoned their plans to first grow more. Carefully, they cut away every bit of blue-green fuzz and set all into a large bowl of clean water. The rest of the bread they put back into the cake pan, fairly sure that t'would be covered with new mold by the next morn. Thereafter came the vile and onerous task of liquefying the mold, accomplished by hand squeezing the rotten bread into a cold porridge. Beinvír added more water 'til the mixture took on the consistency of milk.
The two ellith next strained the fluid through clean linen, first a single layer and then a double layer, 'til they had a liquid free of any clumps or clots. The final result was a full pottle of grayish white mold water, which was surprisingly absent of any foul scent.
Helluin and Beinvír looked to each other and spoke silently, eye to eye.
I suppose that shortly we shalt learn what, if any, virtue this fluid possesses, Helluin said. Shalt we draw straws to decide whether t'will be Spitoonia, Hoden, or Fistula whom we poison first?
I deem Hoden and Fistula more advanced in their dis-ease than Spitoonia, so perhaps one of them? Either is closer to passing than Isengrub's wife, and so their need is more pressing, Beinvír reasoned.
T'would be a shame to kill them both if this experiment fails at the test, the Noldo said ere she paused for consideration of their course.
Helluin, they shalt pass in a few more days with or without this liquid, and mayhaps they can be cured by a draught. Still, 'tis six of one, half-dozen of the other, I suppose.
The Noldo nodded in agreement. The couple was doomed, and the chance of their concoction delivering a cure was scant. And yet, there was a shred of hope for them still 'til that hope was proved vain. She wondered what a real healer would do in their place, Elrond, Lainiel, or even her daughter Dúriel, for example.
Dúriel. Helluin recalled the sweet girl and a tale her mother had shared of one of her early essays in the healer's art. She had kept pets…
"Stay thy hand a while, my love. I shall return shortly," the Noldo said.
Helluin left the house and made her way downslope towards the stream. 'Neath the hedgerow she found the sickly cat, it having barely moved whence they had seen it aforetime. 'Twas somewhat weaker if anything, for now its legs only twitched. She snatched it up, holding it out by the scruff of the neck lest it leak, surprised at first by how light 'twas. Obviously it had lost well 'nigh all its water. She looked it in the face and saw that it's tongue dangled slightly from its mouth.
Not long for this world, yet mayhaps t'will make an unexpected recovery.
The Noldo hastened back to the house, to be met with protests at the door. There stood Isengrub, and he tried to halt her saying, "Elf Helluin, me wife's allergic to cat folk 'n can't abide their hair."
"Thy wife has more to discomfort her than sniffles from a cat's fur, I wager. I bring this animal hither apurpose, and perhaps thy good wife shalt benefit from it if all goes well. I pray thee, trust me, my friend."
The Perian looked at Helluin, and at the cat. 'Twas a most sorry looking creature, and even he could see that its abiding upon the Mortal Shoreshither would not be long. Finally he groaned and nodded, and then stood aside from the door.
Helluin rejoined Beinvír in the kitchen and held the cat out to her at arm's length.
"I present thee a patient, who has voiced 'naught in protest and has but to gain, I deem," she said. The cat dangled from her hand like a half-empty sack.
The Green Elf suppressed a shudder at the cat's condition, but took it and set it in the bread basket 'nigh the kitchen hearth where it could be warmed. She then dispensed a jack of fluid into a cup as a dose, but was at a loss for how to get the unconscious cat to take it. Seeing the problem, Helluin sought for a funnel and found several in a drawer, in the well equipped kitchen that Spitoonia maintained. She chose one and then, whilst Beinvír held the cat, coaxed open its mouth and slid the funnel in. When she was sure 'twas not accidentally in the cat's airway, she slowly poured the dose of fluid into the funnel and down its gullet. They set the cat aside and waited. 'Twas not yet the second hour past noon.
Now in the evening, they found the cat able to lift its head, and its legs had returned to the motions of walking it had been making when they had first espied it just past noon. Whether 'twas an improvement or a relapse to its earlier condition as a result of some hydration, they could not tell, and so they dosed it again, and took its feeble struggles against the funnel as a good sign indeed. In the meantime, Spitoonia, Hoden, and Fistula had not improved. Indeed their bouts of coughing were more frequent and their fevers felt higher. Isengrub got only a few sips of water into each of them, and neither broth, nor tea would they take. By bedtime he was more depressed, whilst Helluin and Beinvír spent the night sitting on the bench by the front door, talking and staring at the stars.
"I deem the time grows short for Spitoonia," Helluin said, "and her time shorter than the others. Perhaps 'tis her age that shortens her struggle."
"Perhaps, for I cannot see her going to her children if she knew she was sick," the Green Elf said.
"Nor I," the Noldo agreed, "and if she went after the passing of Weaselbob and his wife, then she was certainly not sick then or she would already have succumbed."
Isengrub's parents had passed 'round the time he had reached the sanctuary, and 'nigh another three weeks had passed ere his return to Tickburrow. From all they had heard tell of the Plague, its victims didn't last a week. Though they knew it not, the infection was already losing its virulence, for east of Rhûn in the preceding year, it had laid low its earliest victims in but a couple days.
"If the cat still lives in the morning, I should opt to dose the Perianin ere they become too febrile to save," Beinvír said.
To this course, Helluin nodded in agreement, "for we know not how long the fluid may keep its virtue, and in any case, by then t'will be little added harm in the trying."
Thereafter they fell into memories of better times as the stars wheeled through the night sky o'erhead. Eventually the eastern sky brightened on their fifth day in the Shire, and the morning prepared to open. Ere Anor crested the horizon, the two ellith arose and went inside to prepare breakfast for themselves and Isengrub. Thereafter they would dose Spitoonia, Hoden, and Fistula, unless the cat was cold and stiff in its basket by the hearth. Helluin wondered if they would be required to use the funnel.
Now when they came to the kitchen to repair the fire, they found that indeed the cat was not in rigor, but rather 'twas lying on its side with its head resting upon its forepaws as cats are wont to do. It seemed to be breathing more strongly, and when it heard them, it actually opened its eyes and gave them a bleary stare. When the Green Elf offered it water on her fingertips, the cat licked it off and seemed eager for more.
"'Tis a skinny cat again, meldanya," the Green Elf said, barely able to contain her joy. With the water it seemed to perk up, for it had surely been parched.
"It certainly appears much improved, though anything save death would make that statement true," the Noldo said. She gave her lover a smile and began rebuilding the fire.
After finding eggs, bacon, fresh milk, and making a batter for griddle cakes, Helluin began preparing breakfast. Whilst she cooked, Beinvír checked the contents of the cake pan, and sure enough, the bread scraps they had cleaned of mold the day before were again dusted with blue-green. By day's end she guessed that they would be as rotten as they had been aforetime. They would have the makings for another batch of fluid.
Now in the next hour Isengrub staggered in, eyelids heavy, yawning and dull. 'Twas obvious that he hadn't slept well, or perhaps at all for his worry, and he was glad to find breakfast prepared. He sat down by the hearth to warm himself after pulling a chair from the table, and there marked the cat. The mouser was no longer a flaccid sack of fur, but rather a living creature which regarded him for a moment with yellow eyes and then ignored him after.
'Twas during the breakfast that Helluin and Beinvír explained their discovery to Isengrub, and though he had his doubts, (both about the cure and their sanity), he was more hopeful than he had been since his return to Tickburrow. Being a practical fellow, he managed to rationalize all away to his own satisfaction.
"Well, jus' as I said, its tha Elfish magicks we needed ta cure the Sûza folk. Din't I say that if ya had no cure one'd come to ya? I thank ye greatly. So can we cure me wife 'n kids now?"
Helluin groaned to herself in silence and Beinvír imagined rolling her eyes.
"The mold water appears to hold a virtue o'er the Plague, but we should first watch the cat a while longer, just to be sure," Helluin finally told him. Beside her, the Green Elf nodded in agreement.
Isengrub looked at the cat and said, "cat's fine this morn 'n looked like death yestereve." But when the Elves looked at him and said 'naught, he threw up his hands and capitulated. "A'right, 'tis yer cure so we'll do it yer way, jus' don't wait too long eh?"
Most of all, Helluin desired to speak with the cat about its condition, though she would not have admitted such to the Perian. Still, when Isengrub wandered off to see to his wife, son, and daughter-in-law, she pulled a chair o'er to the hearth and engaged with their patient.
Well met, O noble hunter of mice and sundry vermin. We rejoice in thy recovery and wish to know how thou fare this morn.
The cat yawned and stretched in a most catlike fashion, a vast improvement o'er its prior catatonia, and after smoothing the fur of its jowls with a swipe of its tongue, deigned to speak with her.
Well met, O fair one with eyes of blue. I find myself much improved today at the cost of another of my nine lives. Howe'er did thou prevail upon yonder Halfling to admit me hither when aforetime he has e'er plead the cause of his wife's baseless aversions?
Indeed he plead just such, yet I reminded him that his wife has greater concerns, for she lies dying of the Plague, same as was't thou yesternoon. He relented grudgingly, for thy presence was required to discern the efficacy of a curative serum, which in thy case, has defeated the pestilence.
To this claim, the cat gave consideration, whilst licking a forepaw and wiping its face. Helluin waited on its determination, for so far the conversation was progressing as well as she could have hoped.
This 'curative serum' to which thou refer, 'twas administered with a funnel?
Aye, 'twas, most regrettably, but of necessity. For that indignity we both apologize most sincerely. The Noldo schooled her features to reflect contrition, whilst Beinvír nodded in somber agreement.
Again the cat took time for contemplation whilst preening the fur of its tail.
I appreciate thy penitence, yet I find myself in doubt about the necessity. 'Tis the nature of cats to live lives beset by many dangers. The weather, the hunt, the predators, and even ill fortune, all take their toll. So in their wisdom, the Valar created us with nine lives, and we oft escape fate thereby. I did indeed contract that vile plague, yet I believe that in another day or two, I would have arisen to health, much as ye see me now, serum or no.
To this opinion, Helluin nodded as if in agreement, and asked, dost thou find thy recovery hastened by the serum in despite of thy native capacity for self healing?
Equally serious, the cat replied, though I am no healer, I deem 'tis just so, and I would propose an experiment to test the hypothesis. Thou should dose the Halfling's sickly kin, perhaps with a funnel, for they art not so blessed as to have nine lives as do those of us more fortunate.
I deem we shalt do just so, and very shortly. I thank thee for thy candor, friend.
And I thank ye both for your concern upon my behalf, necessary or no. I would beg a boon of thee, for I deem myself an amateur naturalist, having a spirit of inquiry and a gift for logical thinking. May I observe thy further treatments with thy curative serum?
Though Helluin felt the idea ludicrous and the cat pompous, she saw no harm in granting its request.
I find no reason why such should not be…as one naturalist to another.
I applaud thy generosity, friend. I am Harnolthion¹, for in the lore of my kindred, an ancestor fled a palace far to the south, a long, long time ago. ¹(Harnolthion, Southern Dreamer = harn(southern) + oltho-(v. dream) + -ion(masc. agent suff, n. on v., male dreamer) Sindarin)
I am Helluin Maeg-mórmenel, and my beloved is Beinvír Laiquende.
Pleased to meet ye both, now perchance doth some of that bacon I smell remain?
They deemed it a good sign that the cat's appetite had returned and gave it all the lefto'ers as well as a saucer of milk and a bowl of water. These the cat consumed in a dignified fashion, neither bolting, nor gorging on its victuals ere it finished and proceeded to its grooming ritual as cats are wont to do.
Isengrub returned to the kitchen 'round the nine o'clock hour, looked askance at the cat preening by the fire, and said to the two ellith, "cat seems finer than e'er. Shalt we not have a go at curin' me family now?"
"Indeed the cat is cured, and so thy family shalt receive the serum now that we deem it safe," Helluin said.
She and Beinvír gathered up all the paraphernalia required for administering the cure, including the funnel, at which Harnolthion nodded in approval, and they followed the farmer to the private rooms of his home.
They came first to the bedroom he shared with Spitoonia, and found her feverish and delirious. She spoke not, but was afflicted with wracking bouts of coughing, 'twixt which her breathing was a belabored wheeze. They raised her to a sitting position and propped her up thus upon a pile of pillows. Harnolthion leapt to the nightstand beside the bed to observe the procedure. Beinvír dispensed a gill of the milky fluid into a cup and handed it to Isengrub.
"Pray have her take all of this, my friend, and we shalt repeat the treatment at nightfall," the Green Elf said.
Now the farmer tried to get his wife to sip the serum, but she was insensible and heard him not. Only by dipping his finger in the fluid and pushing it into her mouth would she eventually swallow, and the process was painfully slow.
Upon the nightstand, Harnolthion chanted, funnel, funnel, funnel!
Helluin groaned and Beinvír rolled her eyes.
In the end, they did indeed resort to administering their serum through the funnel, much to Isengrub's horror and the cat's glee. They had just extracted the implement ere Spitoonia had another fit of coughing, but she kept the fluid down and they moved on to the room where Hoden and Fistula lay just as sorely afflicted. Their condition was much the same as Spitoonia's and the funnel was much employed for the initial dosing of the sickly. Harnolthion lauded their administration of the experiment.
A credit to scientific inquiry ye are. I shalt hope for the recovery of the Halflings.
As shalt we, for they have no other lives upon which to depend, Helluin replied.
I believe I shall linger a while to witness the results, for an experiment must run to its conclusion ere wisdom is conferred, Harnolthion said.
The Noldo nodded in agreement, for what naturalist would choose to abandon an intellectual pursuit ere its completion?
Lunch came and went, and despite the legendary gastronomy of the Periannath, Isengrub's appetite failed him due to worry. He consumed only a sausage sandwich, a portion of chicken soup, soda bread with sausage gravy, a bottle of wine, hot tea, and three hard boiled eggs with a wedge of cheddar. The Elves tended to the cake pan with its developing crop of new mold. Harnolthion lounged in the bread basket and napped by the fire. In the mid-afternoon they checked on their patients and found them breathing easier, and their fevers had broken. They seemed to sleep comfortably now, though as yet, they hadn't wakened.
In the evening Isengrub, Helluin, Beinvír, and Harnolthion revisited the sick rooms and administered a second dose of serum to their patients. This time, much to the cat's disappointment, though they were still quite disoriented, Spitoonia, Hoden, and Fistula were able to sip the fluid from the cup and the funnel went unused.
The morn of the sixth day dawned and Isengrub was up early, making breakfast. His mood was so improved that he suffered the cat to supervise his culinary arts whilst seated on the counter. After hastily eating, he brought small portions of scrambled eggs to his wife and children. He was elated when they ate and was practically capering like a Dwarf when he returned the dishes to the kitchen.
"Yer Elfish magicks ha' cured me wife 'n kids," he said, "'n I cannot thank ye enough. After I'm done washin' up, I'm gonna go 'round 'n collect every scrap 'o rotted bread in Tickburrow."
"Thy people shalt benefit much from thine efforts, my friend," the Green Elf told him. "It hath been our pleasure to see thy family recover."
The two ellith gave their patients a third and final dose of the mold fluid that morn, and now, the three Hobbits were awake, lucid, and though still weak, well aware of what had happened. They were greatly thankful, though because of their lingering sore throats, the two ellith were spared the long-winded accolades that Spitoonia, Hoden, and Fistula would have delivered to their saviors.
In the afternoon Helluin and Beinvír resolved to take their leave of the Shire. They felt it their duty to report the cure to King Argeleb in hopes of saving such Dúnedain as may have been infected. Ere they took their leave, they processed the remaining moldy bread in the cake pan into curative serum, and then they bid the Hobbits farewell for that time. 'Twas then 27 Narbeleth.
Now Tickburrow was a backwater hamlet in those days, with little traffic in winter from other locales in the Shire, yet still 'nigh a third of its people passed ere Isengrub could apply the cure. In the more populous towns yet more died, for the knowledge of the mold serum was slow to spread amongst the rustic inhabitants, many of whom disbelieved the tidings from the West Farthing. So it came to pass that, as much lore of the time tells, well 'nigh half the Perrianath of Sûza fell to the Great Plague.
Amongst those who did not fall were Isengrub and his family. A few centuries later, some amongst them changed the name of their town to Tuckburrow, and later still, Tuckborough. A thousand years later, a distant descendant, Isumbras, would become the thirteenth Thain of the Shire.
'Twas upon 10 Hithui that Helluin and Beinvír came to Fornost Erain, and being of the Elder Kindred, they were admitted without fear of contamination. Straight away they made their business known and sought an audience with the king. Argeleb was glad to meet them, and when he discovered the boon they claimed to deliver, he called for his alchemists and apothecaries and they held counsel late into the night. A patient sick with Plague, the son of a minor noble, was brought and treated, and by the third day he was restored and on his way to mending. His recovery was regarded as a miracle, and soon bread was being baked and left to mold in the laboratories of the king's naturalists. Great quantities of the "White Cure", as the milky fluid came to be called, were produced, and by its use many of the king's subjects were saved. The Plague, already diminished in virulence, was reduced yet further by winter's chill and the application of the curative serum. Even so, the deadly pestilence claimed many lives ere it faded to 'naught by the following spring's end.
So Penian Silim¹ was added to the pharmacopeia of the Dúnedain at that time, and its knowledge persisted 'til the final fall of the South Kingdom long years hence. 'Twas found that its virtue was curative of many afflictions, not the Plague only, and so it enjoyed high esteem amongst the Men of the West. ¹(Penian Silim, White Cure = penio-(fix, set) + -an(obj. suff. n. on v., one that fixes, cures) + silim(light, white) Sindarin. It may be regarded as simple coincidence that the name is similar to the name given to this cure when it was rediscovered thousands of years later, Penicillin)
To Be Continued
*Those skeptical about the natural penicillin that Helluin and Beinvír employed may search the web for 'Homemade Penicillin', and should find a couple sites aimed at survivalists. Though modern advice dissuades people from making or using raw, natural penicillin, it is possible to make your own, though concentrating it is a more complex process.
Harnolthion the cat is a scion of one of those 2 black cats who fled Osgiliath with Helluin and Beinvír, back in the time of the mad Queen Beruthiel, (c. T.A. 870).