Little Bird Blue
Pippin placed the carafe of water on the tiny nightstand. It had been two days. Two days since – it. He could barely speak the words. And two days Diamond lay in bed, burning of fever. Healer Peabody had come and gone, given him the vials and herbs of appropriate medicine, told him to watch for the breaking of the fever, and if she turned for the worse, to send for him.
There had been so much blood. That was why she had the fever, said the healer. Her body was trying to recover. "She's young, and healthy, do not worry." The healer left with a small, comforting pat on his arm.
Pippin worried anyway. His words did not feel real. The whole of it did not feel real. If it weren't for his ailing wife, he would think this all a terrible, horrible, nightmarish dream. Even in the dreams during the time of the Orcs, it had not come up with this. Of course, he had been younger then, unknowing.
"Diamond."
"Mmm." She groaned, turned over, curling into herself, he noted. The quilts, so gifted by Merry on their wedding day, were damp – sweat or tears, he wondered. They were the beautiful colors of Gondor – silver and black, dark for the Shire. Diamond loved them immediately. The moment they unwrapped the ribbon that had held the roll together, and the quilts spread before them on the floor of their hole, she had sighed in awe; at the stitching, at the quality. "Let's sleep with them forever," she said, hugging his shoulders. He remembered the warmth of her hands upon his shoulders, how they pressed into his chest that night…
He poured the water into a cup. This one, this was a gift from Strider, part of a set that Strider had told him he used. It was carved with tiny flowers along the rim and base, and he traced them absently. They felt cool under his fingertips.
"You must drink. Healer Peabody has said if you don't have enough water, you – could – " he was not able finish the sentence, the memory of the reddened blankets too strong.
She groaned again. Pippin sighed, wiped his face. He would have to pull them through this – somehow. He bent over her, lifted her gently. He took the cup, took it to her mouth, wetted her lips. She swallowed instinctively, and he had the strange impulse to cheer.
Cheer? Whatever for?
It passed, and he worked for the next hour, getting her to take what water she would. When he finished, he held her hand and wept.
Diamond dreamt. She dreamt she was by a lake. A lake so shining and full of light, she was burned by it. Her arms were as brown as the scar that adorned Merry's head! She could find no relief from it. Swimming in it did not help. She did not know she knew how to swim. But there were no questions here.
There was no end to this lake; it went on, and on. She walked, and walked. The sand was white, stained with gleaming pebbles. They were a peculiar brown, the color of rust. She tried to collect them, but they fell through her hands. She tried putting them in her pockets, but they fell through holes she could not see. Eventually she gathered them into a pile, and they sat like a small tomb.
She looked around again, and saw the lake. The sand. The bright, shining light she could not find relief from. No trees to be seen. She wanted shade. She wanted the cool water of the Bywater spring, where, it was said, the streamwaters flowed so gently you could bathe a babe in them. It had dried up when the Big Men arrived, and she hadn't visited since the Party Tree bloomed. She was waiting until – until -
Until at last a tree grew, and she lay beneath its shade, its leaves a familiar, familiar green. She wept, and the lake grew a calm, clear blue.