“Travellers scowl at us, and countrymen give
us scornful names. Yet we would not have it otherwise.”
‘The Council of Elrond’, The Fellowship of the Ring
Bilbo and Halbarad whirled about in shock as the tremendous blast
ripped through the air.
“Where’s Frodo?” Bilbo asked instantly. “Do you see him anywhere? Or Estel?”
“No,” Halbarad said, looking quickly up and down the market. “Come, let us see if we can find them.”
“Bilbo!” came a sudden yell from the direction of the explosion. “Come quickly!”
~*~
Hamfast Gamgee had never run so fast in all his life. With no thought other than to get to his boy, he pounded past the remains of the ale shop. Some hobbits were already forming a line from the Water, passing hastily-gathered buckets toward the smoldering timbers. Others were embracing frightened children, or staring in disbelief at the nearly-disintegrated shop.
Frodo and Aragorn lay unconscious on the ground about a dozen yards from where Sam sat in shock, surrounded by debris.
“Sam!” Hamfast knelt next to his boy and felt for broken bones. “Are you hurt, lad?”
“Gaffer?” Sam whispered. The boy’s eyes were huge and tear-filled.
Hamfast satisfied himself that Sam didn’t appear to be physically hurt, then pulled his son into his lap and held him tight.
Only then did Hamfast become aware of a murmur of voices around them.
“It’s that Brandybuck lad.”
“Bet that Ranger had somethin’ to do with this.”
“He saved the kids’ lives, Sandyman. Didn’t you hear him yell? They ran off just in time.”
“He yelled, did he? And just how did he know what was gonna happen? No good comes of Big Folk comin’ in where they’re not invited.”
“Sam,” Hamfast said urgently, “what happened? Can you tell me?”
“The... the kids were playin’ with sparklers,” Sam said shakily. “They were tossin’ ’em in the air, and one... one landed next to one of the barrels. Suddenly things were on fire. Mr. Estel must have... he saw it, too. He yelled for me to run... and the kids too, and...”
Hamfast scowled up at the hobbits surrounding them. “Did you hear my boy? It were an accident, an’ the Ranger did his best to warn the kids away. He probably saved their lives, and my Sam’s life, too. Don’t go sayin’ things you’ll regret after.”
“Sam!” Halfred Gamgee ran up, out of breath. “Dad, what happened? Is Sam all right? Here, I’ll take him.” The strapping lad picked up his young brother and held him close, listening to his father’s account of what happened.
Sam clung to his brother, pale and trembling, unable to take his eyes off the scene before them. Mr. Frodo...
“Are they killed?” he sobbed.
“Shhh, now,” Halfred said, stroking Sam’s curls. “They’re not dead. Mistress Brownlock’s with them, and here comes Mr. Bilbo.”
Bilbo stumbled to his knees next to Frodo, who lay face-down on the grass near Aragorn. Gilly Brownlock was kneeling between them, her fingers at Frodo’s wrist.
“Don’t move him, Bilbo," she cautioned the frantic hobbit. "Let me see how badly he’s hurt.”
Frodo’s hair and clothes were covered in dust and tiny bits of glass and debris. A large, wicked-looking piece of glass was embedded in his left arm, and protruded through the sleeve of his shirt.
Gilly looked up as Halbarad began to check Aragorn for injuries, his face grave.
“Stop any bleeding you see, young man, and I’ll be there in a moment.” With that, she turned her attention back to Frodo.
“I’ll help,” Halfred said. He handed Sam back to his father, then pulled out a clean pocket-handkerchief and handed it to the Ranger. “I’m Halfred, sir, one of Sam’s brothers. I didn't get to meet you last evenin'.”
“Thank you, Halfred,” Halbarad murmured. He pressed the cloth to the back of Aragorn’s head, which was bleeding. “He was struck by something.” He was frightened by how still his chieftain lay.
“Mistress Brownlock will see to him,” Halfred assured him. “She’s a good healer, sir. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
“All right,” Gilly murmured to Bilbo. “We might as well get this done first off, before the boy wakes up. Do you have a clean handkerchief?”
“Always,” Bilbo said, pulling one out. “Gilly, please tell me---”
“First things first, Bilbo,” the healer said. “Hold his arm. Hold it steady.”
Fighting back his questions, and his fear, Bilbo grasped Frodo’s bleeding arm and pressed it firmly to the ground. With a quick movement, Gilly grasped the piece of glass and pulled it free. Instantly, she pressed Bilbo’s handkerchief to the bleeding wound, then wrapped it around Frodo’s arm.
“Now then,” the healer said, “let’s see what we’ve got. Help me turn him over, Bilbo. Be very careful... that’s it.” She supported Frodo’s head while Bilbo turned the boy gently onto his back. Bilbo winced when he saw the pile of small but sharp stones onto which Frodo had been thrown.
“Here’s a nice bump,” Gilly said, gently pushing aside Frodo’s curls. A swollen bruise could be seen on his temple. She pulled up one eyelid and nodded, then quickly felt along Frodo’s arms and legs and along each rib.
“Bilbo, I don’t feel anything broken, although I can’t be completely certain yet. I want to check his chest for bruises, and see if there are any more bumps or cuts that need attention. That arm needs to be properly treated. And he’s going to catch a chill unless he’s warmed up soon. Let’s get him back to your home, quick as your cart can take us. Just let me see to your friend...”
With that, she got to her feet and went over to where Aragorn lay.
“Thank you, Gilly,” Bilbo said gratefully. He took one of Frodo’s cold hands and held it, then looked around at the crowd of hobbits -- most still eyeing the two Rangers suspiciously. “Can a few of you lads unload our cart? We need to get Frodo and Estel back to Hobbiton.”
“We’ll do it, Mr. Bilbo!” several youngsters called out. They raced off to the Bagginses’ cart and began unloading the boxes and bags of provisions.
“We’ll have you all tucked into bed and tended to in no time,” Bilbo murmured to his unconscious boy. He gently stroked Frodo’s brow with his free hand. “You’re going to be just fine, my lad.”
“Concussion,” Gilly informed Halbarad. She continued her examination of the unconscious Ranger. “I think they both escaped broken bones, unless...” She frowned at Aragorn’s right wrist, which was slightly swollen. “No, I think it’s just badly sprained. Has he shown any signs of waking?”
“No,” Halbarad said, his voice tight with worry.
Gilly smiled encouragingly at Halbarad who, she realized, was probably even younger than she had at first thought. It was difficult to tell with the Big Folk.
“Your friend will wake up to a whopping big headache. One of these boards hit him pretty hard, I suspect, but his leather tunic and these boots probably saved him from the flying glass. What’s his name?”
“Estel,” Halbarad said, using Bilbo’s name for his chieftain. “I am Halbarad.”
Gilly nodded. “I need to check Frodo and your friend over more thoroughly. Let’s---”
“How is Frodo?”
“He’s unconscious as well, and may need some sutures in his arm,” Gilly replied. “He landed on some rocks, but hopefully is not any worse hurt than some cuts and bruises.” She wrapped Halfred’s handkerchief around Aragorn’s head and tied it off. “Are you and Estel staying up on The Hill?”
“The Hill?” Halbarad asked, puzzled. “Do you mean at Bilbo’s? Yes.”
“Good, good.” Gilly got to her feet and looked around. “No one else hurt, I hear... thanks to your friend.” She lay a gentle hand on Halbarad’s shoulder. “Can you carry him to the cart? If not, we can try to---”
Without a word, Halbarad pulled Aragorn into a sitting position, then maneuvered the unconscious man onto his shoulders before staggering to his feet.
“I’ll take Mr. Frodo,” Halfred said to Bilbo. He knelt and slid his arms under Frodo’s shoulders and knees.
“Be very careful, Halfred,” Gilly warned. “I don’t think Frodo has any broken ribs, but better to be safe than sorry. Don’t jostle him.”
“I won’t.” Halfred very carefully lifted Frodo and walked as smoothly as possible to the now-emptied cart. He and Halbarad lay Frodo and Aragorn side by side, then hopped in next to them.
“Hamfast, bring Sam,” Bilbo said. “Gilly should check him over, as well.” He untied the ponies, then climbed into the driver’s seat; Gilly climbed up next to him. Hamfast lifted Sam up to Halfred, then joined the rest in the back of the cart.
“Hamfast, would you reach into Frodo’s pocket and get our coin purse?” Bilbo asked suddenly.
“Here it is, sir,” Hamfast said, drawing out the leather bag and handing it up to his employer.
“Thank you. And thank you, lads.” Bilbo handed a few coins down to the boys who had unloaded the cart.
“Don’t worry, sir,” the oldest boy said. “And we’ll make sure your packages get delivered to your home.”
Bilbo smiled his thanks, and took up the reins.
Sam was still very shaken, and terribly worried. “Cushion their heads,” he said suddenly.
“The boy is right,” Gilly agreed, twisting around to look behind her into the cart. She nodded approval as Halfred gently eased Frodo’s head and shoulders onto his lap, and Halbarad did the same for Aragorn. “It’ll be a bumpy ride, but at least they won’t remember it. Be sure to let me know immediately if either of them seem to be having any trouble breathing. And Halfred, keep Frodo’s arm raised a bit, would you? That will help stop the bleeding.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let’s go, Bilbo,” Gilly said. “I think they’re as comfortable as we can make them.” She leaned over to the old hobbit. “How are you doing?” she murmured softly.
“I can’t bear seeing my boy hurt, Gilly. But I also can’t break down just yet.” Bilbo took a deep breath, and dashed away a tear. “Maybe later.”
Gilly nodded, and patted his hand. “Your friend Estel probably saved his life. If they had been closer to that shop when it exploded...” She left the sentence unfinished.
“I know,” Bilbo whispered. With that, he urged the ponies forward.
First > Previous > Next