[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda crouched by the campfire, tightly hedged in between the other hobbits, taking a bite to eat and letting his thoughts drift lazily over the events of the day. It was the first time he'd gotten a rest in many, many hours. He was eating a cup of fish stew that Daisy had brewed up from some of the provisions that Stoney had carried. With all they'd been through, they at least needed to eat a good hot supper.

When Hal had first brought in the cold and sleepy Bullroarer, Branda had quickly seen from his patient's grimace of pain that his collar bone needed to be stabilised to make sure it would heal properly. Branda had finished with that, and then concentrated on using wraps and heated stones to bring life and warmth back into Bullroarer's chilled body. Now, the massive hobbit snored contentedly beside the fire, his face relaxed and his color gradually returning.

Thank goodness that Bandobras was built more like an ox than a normal hobbit! Anyone else who'd been out in that bitter cold for such a long time would probably not have survived. His strength and resilience had somehow brought him through. Branda suspected they'd need even more of that in the days to come.

With Bandobras temporarily unable to act as the leader, Branda had taken on that responsibility himself, although relying heavily on the advice and counsel of the others in the band. Hal and Lotho and Dinodas had proven especially helpful. They were only about three or four miles from Whitfurrows, but there was no possibility of going on that night. They'd have to see tomorrow how the others were doing, before they made any other decisions.

Hopefully, by the morning, Bullroarer would have recovered enough to be back in the lead, even if he'd have to be a bit more careful with that broken collar bone. Gaddy, and Daffodyl and Robin were weak, but all doing much better. As long as their wounds healed cleanly, they should be just fine in a day or two.

Gaddy might be up and about tomorrow, and could probably ride one of the ponies. Robin and Daffodyl were probably safer in the wagon, but could continue their journey down the road, especially if the weather held, with no further surprises or snowstorms. More disturbing was the fate of Emerald. Her condition had changed little since she'd first been brought to the shelter.

There was little conversation over supper, with most hobbits falling asleep shortly after the first star appeared in the sky. Hal agreed to take the first watch, tending the fires to keep them going, and making sure there were no unwanted guests. He sat just outside the tarp, clutching a large stone and coming in to warm his hands and drink some hot tea every now and again, then going out again. They rotated the watch, with Celandine and Daisy taking the later rounds.

Branda sat up alone with Emerald, searching vainly for some way to pull the girl from the jaws of death. For the hundredth time, he felt her forehead and listened to her heartbeat. He had tried herb after herb, but even the athelas seemed to do little to help.

Hour after hour passed with no visible change. It was the deepest part of the night. Branda was sitting up and half dozing, when a strange voice inside his head urged him to awaken. He looked over to check on Emerald. The girl lay, still and small, her face as white as the nearby snowdrifts because of her loss of blood. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide. They glittered bright, like the stars above, clear and piercing. There was no confusion or uncertainty in them.

Branda cradled her body in his arms and leaned over to listen. "I am going now," Emerald whispered. Tell my family I love them." The words came harder now. "I'm not sorry for having done this. Tell the others.....the best way of remembering me is to find Rivendell and save our people. Give me your word, Branda, you'll do that."

"I promise, Emerald. I swear to you we'll get through." Branda squeezed Emerald's hand in reassurance.

He saw she had closed her eyes. She had a look of peace and contentment. He heard a few breaths come jagged and hard, and then they halted. Branda lowered her limp body gently back onto the ground and covered her with a blanket. Then he sat alone and cried a very long time. No reason to wake the others till morning. There was nothing anyone could do.

When he'd wiped away his tears, Branda lay down next to Emerald's still form and went to sleep. He dreamed of a hobbit girl, a lass with a curly head who was awake and alert and running across a field, with a determined smile on her face. Sometimes the girl in his dreams looked and sounded like Emerald, and sometimes she looked a lot like his own little daughter Peony whom he'd kissed goodbye just the day before.

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]