“He is Aragorn son of Arathorn,” said
Elrond, “and he is descended through many fathers from
Isildur Elendil’s son of Minas Ithil. He is the Chief
of the Dúnedain in the North, and few are now left of that
folk.”
The Fellowship of the Ring, ‘The Council of Elrond’
Frodo directed Thalguron where to turn off the lane, and they rode through an open gate in a hedge that led to a green path. Thalguron saw the small house ahead, and slowed his horse as they approached. The slightly overgrown lawn and gardens were a testament to how seldom Brandy Hall’s guesthouse was in use. He dismounted and lifted Frodo down, then tethered his horse loosely to one of the shaggy trees that surrounded the dwelling.
“How are you feeling, Frodo?” Thalguron asked. He was still carrying his brother’s muddy boot, and dropped it on the front step.
“Fine,” Frodo said, putting Scamp on the ground. “Come, we need to get things prepared.” He led the way through the round front door and into the low, turf-roofed house. The tall Ranger found that the ceiling was low enough to cause him to stoop slightly.
“Be careful of the beams,” Frodo warned.
“I will,” Thalguron assured him. He found himself in a long, wide hallway that seemed to end in another door -- a rear exit, he surmised. On each side of the hall were rooms -- larger and more spacious than he would have guessed from the outside. On the left was a comfortable parlor, and a well-stocked kitchen and pantries. On the right were situated several bedrooms, what appeared to be a study or library, and, in the rear, a bathing room.
Frodo watched, amused, as the Ranger quickly investigated the house as thoroughly as he might scout a bit of unfamiliar countryside.
“There’s a cellar as well,” Frodo called out to him.
“A very cozy home,” Thalguron said approvingly, rejoining Frodo in the hall. “I have not seen many hobbit houses; most of the small folk in Bree live in holes cut into Bree-Hill.”
“The Shire is like that, too,” Frodo explained, “but where hills cannot be found, houses will suffice.”
“Aragorn will be here soon with Halbarad; we will need warmed water,” Thalguron said, turning his attention back to the task at hand.
“There’s a well just outside,” Frodo replied. “Why don’t you take the largest pots from the kitchen, and bring in as much water as you can. I’ll start the fires.” He dashed off to light stove, hearths, and lamps.
~*~
“Here we are.” Aragorn guided Arthad up the grassy path to the house. “Halbarad, I think you will find a broken ankle a small price to pay for being cared for and sheltered by hobbits,” he chuckled. The young Ranger didn’t answer, and Aragorn quickly leaped to the ground and helped his friend dismount. Halbarad was trembling slightly, his jaw set against the pain.
“Easy,” Aragorn murmured. “Let me support you.”
“They’re here!” Frodo cried, as he heard hoofbeats approaching. Thalguron hurried to the front door in time to help Aragorn with his brother.
“Leave his tunic and the other boot out here,” Thalguron said, working quickly to remove Halbarad’s muddiest garments.
“Mind your heads,” Frodo said as the Men entered the house. He gazed up worriedly at Halbarad, who seemed near to collapse. “Bring him in here, Estel; we’ve arranged a place for him to rest.” He led the way into the parlor.
Aragorn lowered Halbarad onto the thick pile of bedding and pillows arranged on the floor, and noted with approval several small tubs and bowls containing steaming water which sat in wait, as well as a pile of cloths and cakes of soap.
“We were just preparing an early supper,” Frodo said. “Everyone’s going to be hungry.”
“Thank you, Frodo,” Aragorn said, “you accomplished a great deal. Thalguron, would you clean Halbarad’s leg and ankle as best you can? I will tend to the injury as soon as you finish.” With that, he turned to Frodo. “And now, I need to get you tended, little one.”
“Why all the fuss?” Frodo asked, unwrapping the handkerchief from his right hand. “The bleeding has stopped, and the scratches don’t even hurt any longer.”
Aragorn dipped a cloth into one of the bowls of warm, soapy water. “Frodo,” he said quietly, thoroughly inspecting and cleansing the scratches on the small hands, “it isn’t the scratches that concern me, but what may have entered your blood when they occurred. Halbarad fears that you may have been scratched by the same thorns that made him feel and act strangely. It took a few hours, but he grew very dizzy, then was overcome by an urge to remain in the Old Forest. He did not wish to be anywhere else. After a time, he fell asleep, then woke up feeling ill.” He finished what he was doing, and looked into Frodo’s eyes. “You must tell us if you feel dizzy,” he insisted. “I don’t want you running off and possibly getting lost, as did Halbarad.”
“Back in the Forest, Halbarad called you ‘Captain’,” Frodo said suddenly.
Aragorn sighed. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Of course,” Frodo said impatiently. “I might get dizzy, fall asleep...” He returned to more important topics. “Why are you the captain?”
“My father led our people,” Aragorn explained, “as did his.”
“So you inherited the job?”
“Yes.”
Frodo peered at him curiously. “What if you weren’t a good leader? Would your men be stuck with you?”
Aragorn laughed, and motioned to the two Rangers nearby. “Why don’t you ask them? They will answer you honestly.”
“I think I will,” Frodo said with a grin. “Later.”
“We are ready,” Thalguron spoke, gently taking one of his brother’s hands in his. “Your pup is very compassionate,” he said to Frodo, pointing to where Scamp was lying next to Halbarad, her eyes trained on the injured man.
“She knows he’s hurt, and might need protection,” Frodo explained. “Haven’t you ever had a dog? They’re very friendly and intelligent. At least...” He thought darkly of his experiences at Farmer Maggot’s. “Well, most of them are friendly.”
“Seeing how useful she was today, perhaps all Rangers might do well in the future to travel with one.”
“What do you think, Estel?” asked Frodo, patting Scamp. “If a Ranger can become an honorary hobbit, perhaps a few hobbit pups can become honorary Rangers!”
“An honorary hobbit?” Thalguron asked, grinning at Aragorn. “That sounds like a tale worth the telling.”
“What happened was---” Frodo began.
“Frodo!” came a voice from the front of the house.
“In here, Merry,” Frodo called.
Merry came into the parlor, followed by Bilbo. Bilbo quickly took in the scene before him. On the floor lay the young Ranger, obviously in pain and breathing heavily. The injured ankle was red and swollen. Aragorn and Thalguron sat on either side of him, and Frodo was standing next to Aragorn. Aragorn saw Bilbo looking at Frodo’s freshly-bandaged hand, caught the old hobbit’s eye, and gave him a reassuring nod.
“Bilbo, I’m just about to take care of Halbarad’s ankle,” Aragorn said. He chose his words carefully, assuming that re-setting a bone was not something that the boys should witness. “Why don’t you take Merry and Frodo to the kitchen?”
“Good idea,” Bilbo said, nodding in agreement. “Merry, Frodo lad, why don’t we---”
“Can’t I stay?” Merry asked unexpectedly. He plopped down by Halbarad’s head and smiled down at the injured man. “It’ll hurt,” the boy said frankly, “but you’ll feel better soon. When my dad broke his arm, the healer was quick, and it was all over with before he knew it.”
“He’s right,” Frodo said, sitting next to Merry and taking up the story. “And afterwards, Uncle Saradoc was such a poor patient. You should have seen him when he tried to...”
Aragorn couldn’t keep from smiling as he bent over the injury. Halbarad had relaxed somewhat, distracted by the boys’ lyrical voices and mutual storytelling. It was now or never...
“Aiieee!” Halbarad screamed as a new and agonizing pain shot through his ankle. The room blurred and spun, and, as consciousness fled, the voices of the young hobbits slowly faded into nothingness.
Merry burst into tears and threw himself into Frodo’s arms. Bilbo quickly knelt and put his arms around the boys.
“There there,” Bilbo murmured. “Well done, lads. You did just the right thing. Shhhh...”
Thalguron, quite shaken himself, had been relieved when the fierce grip on his hand loosened and Halbarad lost consciousness. He wiped his brother’s face with a damp cloth.
Aragorn quickly felt along the broken bone that he had pushed back into a clean, straight line, and nodded.
“It should heal well,” he assured Thalguron, who was looking quite pale. “I will wrap the ankle in a poultice that should help draw out the infection, and prepare a tea that will dull the pain when he wakes. Once the poultice has done its work, and the swelling is diminished, we must bind his ankle tightly, and leave it so until the bone is mended. It would be best if he could rest for a few days...”
Bilbo looked up at Aragorn and nodded. “You and your men may stay as long as is needed, Estel,” he said, still gently rocking the two boys.
“Cousin Bilbo,” Merry whispered, wiping his sleeve over his eyes, “I’m hungry.” He sniffed the air. “Is that soup?”
“Come help me finish making supper,” Frodo said, getting shakily to his feet. He and Bilbo led the youngster out of the room, talking to him quietly.
“We should not have let the young ones stay,” Thalguron said to Aragorn once the hobbits had gone. “They were badly frightened.”
“We are the guests here, Thalguron,” Aragorn reminded him. “Their choices are their own. And you will discover that the hobbits, while gentle of heart, are more courageous and resilient than you may have thought.” He noticed that Scamp had -- for once -- not followed Frodo, but remained at her self-appointed post next to the injured man. He patted her fondly, and she thumped her tail on the floor.
“They call you Estel,” Thalguron remarked. “The Breelanders know you as Strider... are you known by different names in all the lands?”
“Perhaps,” Aragorn said with a smile.
Thalguron gazed down at his unconscious brother. “Thank you, Captain,” he whispered.
“It is less easy to bear the pain of one we love, than to bear our own,” Aragorn said quietly. “But the worst is now over... for Halbarad.” And he cast a worried glance in the direction Frodo had gone.