“A very nice well-spoken gentlehobbit is Mr.
Bilbo, as I’ve always said,” the Gaffer declared. With
perfect truth, for Bilbo was very polite to him, calling him
‘Master Hamfast’, and consulting him constantly upon the growing
of vegetables
‘A Long-Expected Party’, The Fellowship of the Ring
Frodo had been startled when Aragorn grabbed him and started to
run toward the Water. Then something seemed to shudder
through the very air, and he was aware of nothing else until he
realized that he was lying on something that bumped and swayed,
shooting a lance of pain through his head at every jolt. It
was painful to breathe, and he whimpered in confusion and reached
out.
“We’re here, Mr. Frodo,” came Sam’s voice. Frodo felt a small, warm hand clasp his. “You’re a little bit hurt, but everythin’ is gonna be fine, you’ll see.”
Halfred and his father exchanged a knowing glance. Their family’s loyalty to the Bagginses was well known, but young Sam’s devotion had been absolute since the summer Mr. Frodo had been so ill. Despite their differences in age, station, and education, the two lads had somehow found in the other a steadfast friend. Their Sam, naturally nurturing and perceptive, and Mr. Frodo, so kind and educated -- yet uprooted and in need of security -- shared a bond that only the Gamgees and Mr. Bilbo seemed to truly understand and approve.
“We’re almost home, now,” Sam was saying softly. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Frodo, don’t...”
Frodo clung to the familiar voice even as it began to blur. He spun downwards, awareness fading. He lost his tenuous hold on consciousness as the blackness claimed him once more.
Bilbo stopped the cart only once on the way home – long enough for Gilly to rush into her home and grab her medical satchel. When they arrived at Bag End, she jumped down from the cart and took over.
“Gently, Halfred, I still don’t know how badly Frodo’s hurt. Has he been conscious at all? Good, that’s good. Halbarad, you’re doing just fine. Can you get Estel to a bed and stay with him?”
Bilbo rushed to unlock the front door, and watched anxiously as Halfred carried Frodo past him and toward the boy’s bedroom. His lad looked so pale and limp, and he fervently hoped he wasn’t seriously hurt.
Gilly bustled into Frodo’s room just as Halfred lay the boy down gently on the bed. A sudden worried yip from a basket by the hearth distracted her for a moment. It was obvious that the Baggins pup was heavily pregnant, and appeared to be aware that something was wrong. As Sam and Hamfast entered the room, a bit hesitantly, she made a quick decision.
“Sam,” Gilly said, “would you please keep an eye on that dog and keep her off Frodo’s bed? She needs to stay calm.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said, relieved he would be able to stay. He sat down by Scamp’s basket, lifted her carefully into his lap, then began to pet and speak quietly to her.
“That’s a smart move, Mistress,” Hamfast murmured approvingly. “Samwise adores that pup, and it’ll do him good to have somethin’ to distract him just now.”
“I agree,” Gilly replied. “Hamfast, I’ll check Sam over after I see to Frodo and the Ranger, but I don’t think your boy’s been hurt... just a bit shaken up.”
“Gilly, what should we do first?” Bilbo asked, sitting on the bed next to Frodo.
“Start with getting that cloak and shirt off him,” Gilly said briskly. “Here, let me help you; He needs to be moved and jostled as little as possible until I’m sure nothing’s broken. Hamfast, would you build up that fire? The poor lad is like ice.” She sat next to Bilbo and unwrapped the improvised bandage from Frodo’s left arm, pleased that the bleeding seemed to have mostly stopped. After Frodo’s cloak and shirt had been removed, she gently touched his bruised chest. Frodo whimpered a little.
Ribs just bruised, I think, but the boy’s going to be in pain when he breathes. The bump on his temple is swollen badly. Arm needs sutures for certain. Boiled water, bandages, needle and my finest thread... perhaps some ice for the bruising, then willowbark or poppy for the pain when he wakens fully... Check that arm and his back for any other glass shards, and hope there won’t be any infection. But a bit of fever is likely anyway, that glass I pulled out of his arm was filthy...
“You’re doing a fine job, Sam,” Gilly turned to the boy sitting nearby. “The pup must be close to her time, and shouldn’t have any distress just now.”
“Dad,” Halfred said quietly, “I’ll just see if Mr. Halbarad needs anythin’ before Mistress Brownlock can get there.”
”You do that, lad,” Hamfast said approvingly. “I want to run down and tell Bell and the girls what’s happened.”
~*~
It wasn’t easy for Halbarad to negotiate through Bag End, Aragorn’s unconscious form slung over one shoulder and ducking to avoid the low ceilings, but he finally reached the end of the long corridor. Entering the room in which Aragorn was staying, he gently lowered his chieftain onto the bed and sank to his knees for a moment, breathing hard.
“I’ll fetch water, and get a fire goin’ in here,” came Halfred’s voice from the doorway. The young hobbit looked around the room curiously; he had never been this far inside Bag End before. “Mistress Brownlock needs to see to Frodo first, sir; he’s near wakin’, and in some pain. But she’ll be here as soon as she can.”
”Thank you, Halfred.” Halbarad removed Aragorn’s tunic, shirt, and boots, tossing them into a corner. He was aware of Halfred bustling around the room, kindling a blaze in the hearth and setting down basins of water and a pile of clean rags.
“How is he, sir?”
“Please just call me Halbarad,” the young Ranger said with a smile. “I don’t feel any broken bones, Halfred, and his breathing is fine.” Halbarad gently touched Aragorn’s swollen right wrist. “Your healer thinks this is just a sprain. No other cuts or bruises I can see, except where the board hit him. I wish he would wake.”
“He will,” Halfred assured him. “And you and Mr. Bilbo shouldn’t worry. If I know my mum and sisters, they’ll be up here soon to help out. They’ll make sure there’s somethin’ hot to eat when folks need it, and I’ll bring in some more firewood from the side yard. We’ll see to everythin’ that needs doin’”
”Bilbo will appreciate your family’s help, Halfred. I know I do.”
“Neighbors look out for one another,” Halfred said firmly. “Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo have been real good to us; there isn’t much we wouldn’t do for them. And... and Sam says Mr. Estel told him to run just before the shop blew up. I’m awful grateful. You just let me know what you need, and I’ll see that you get it. That’s a promise, sir... Mr. Halbarad.”
“How is Sam?”
“He’s shook up somethin’ frightful, but Mistress Brownlock doesn’t think he got hurt,” Halfred replied. He smiled suddenly. “He’s sittin’ on the floor of Mr. Frodo’s room with Scamp in his lap. ‘Keep her calm and off Mr. Frodo’s bed,’ is what she told him, but I think lookin’ after the pup is keepin’ him calm. Sam always needs to be tendin’ to somethin’, or someone.”
Halbarad nodded. He was doing his best to remain calm, himself. He considered untying the cloth tied about Aragorn’s brow, and cleanse the head wound, but decided it would be best to wait for the healer. He covered Aragorn with blankets and sat back.
“How old are you, Halfred?”
“Twenty-five; just a year younger than Mr. Frodo.”
”And just a few years younger than I,” Halbarad said with a smile.
“Really?” Halfred asked. “Will you be comin’ of age soon?”
“It is different for Men,” Halbarad explained. “We ‘come of age’ about the time hobbits become tweens, or so I understand.”
“That young?” Halfred asked, wide eyed. “I can’t wait to come of age, but I haven’t decided on a trade yet.”
Halbarad touched the silver star pinned to his cloak, and smiled. “I have,” he whispered softly.
“Nnnng...” Aragorn mumbled, stirring slightly. Halbarad watched him anxiously.
“Aragorn... I mean...” Halbarad remembered where he was, and that a hobbit was listening. “Estel, can you hear me?”
Aragorn’s grey eyes, so like Halbarad’s own, flickered opened for a moment and focused on Halbarad’s face.
“Captain...” Aragorn sighed, before slipping back into unconsciousness.
Halbarad stared at his chieftain, a sudden fear growing in his heart.
“What did you call me?”
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