Standard disclaimers. Tad and Posie are my own interpretation of the two children at Sam & Rosie's wedding, with their parents. The Healer wandered in from somewhere else, maybe jodancingtree?

Lynn H

Sam's Gardens, Ch. 2 Too terrible to contemplate

Rosie was hoping to finish her wedding dress today. It was a drippy, gray day, and she did not want to leave the house. Doing the last bits of embroidery on her waist seemed just right. So, she sat near the lamp with her sewing after the dishes were done. Her mother was bustling around, fixing the stew they would have for supper. Suddenly she remembered something and called out, "Mother,
I promised to go Hobbiton, to Amber's today. Her little girl Posie (who was to be Rosie's flower girl next week) isn't feeling well.
We are going to get her outfit ready."

Mother Cotton stuck her head around the corner and said, "Not to worry honey. I'll have your brothers hitch up a cart so you don't get all muddy. You'll be staying for lunch and tea, I'm sure, but try to get home before dark! The pony shouldn't stay out in the wet." Chuckling, Mother packed a small basket with some sweets and honey buns to cheer up the child, while Rosie put her sewing in a bag to stay dry and got her cloak.

Amber was glad to see Rosie coming through the drizzle. They put the pony in the small shed with some dry hay, and pulled a tarp over the cart. Posie was listless, wrapped in a quilt, on the settle near the fire. She smiled to see Rosie, but didn't even look at the treats. Soon she dozed off, her face pale. "That's how she's been for a couple of days now, no energy. It's not normal, but I can't find a thing the matter with her. She isn't right, but the only thing she says hurts is her foot, a little bit, yet I can't find so much as a bruise."

"Let me look at that foot," Rosie asked. Amber was right, there wasn't any mark or cut, but there was a little swollen spot on the heel. Hobbit children's feet are tough, though not as hard as their parents'. "Perhaps it's a bruise coming? Though, that shouldn't make her so listless." Rosie and Amber settled nearby with their sewing and chatted softly, making plans for the wedding. Posie's brother was playing on the floor with some wooden animals.

A little later, Posie cried out softly. The ladies went to her and saw she was flushed, beginning to run a fever. "Well, whatever it is, she's getting sicker. I think I'll send Tad for the Healer."
They got her up, and as she set her foot down she yelped! Amber quickly set her back and pulled the foot up. In the lamplight they could see something any mother fears - pink streaks going up around the child's ankle.

"TAD!", Amber called, "Get your cloak on and run to the healer!
Tell him it's blood poisoning!" The lad jumped up and dashed out the door.

He was back in a few minutes. "He isn't home. He went down by the Water where there was a cart accident." He reported nervously,
looking at his little sister. "They'll send him along when he gets back."

Rosie said, "Take my pony and find him - hurry! If you can't find him, go get my mother."

Blood poisoning, in such a tiny child! It can be fatal in a few hours, and is very painful. IF the healer could drain the poison (and there was still no wound showing), the child might be sick for weeks. If he couldn't stop it quickly, he'd have to amputate and cauterize to try to save her life.

Rosie and Amber didn't stand still. Amber put several pots and kettles of water on the stove, and threw every knife and scissor in the house into one. In an oven she put clean towels. Rosie checked over the herbs in Ambers' cupboard, and realized they didn't have much to work with. She had Feverfuge, and Solomon's Seal,
wintergreen and Chamomile, and willow bark. All right for ordinary fevers and sniffles, but nothing that would help now. She needed a poltice. She stood still a moment thinking, then put on her own cloak and went out. The drizzle had changed to rain, a steady sort that would probably continue all day. Rosie held her wraps tightly around her and headed for Bag End. The new herb garden there was young, but had more than Amber's cupboard. In the rain she picked a few young onions, some assorted leaves, and turned to go.

In her mind she heard something Sam had said, "it's good for headaches, will draw or slow poisons, and in the hands of the King can save lives." He had told her how to use that weed! "Oh Sam, I wish you were here to tell me if I'm right," she thought,
and picked a handful of young Athelas. Then she ran, heedless of the mud, back to Amber's hole.

Amber had Posie sitting up, with her foot in a bucket of cold water, washing her legs with strong laundry soap. Her face was stern, but her hands gentle. Rosie knew she was afraid. Rosie got a bowl, filled it with boiling water, and crushed several of the Athelas leaves into it. "I haven't got the hands of the King," she said, slightly wildly, "but I know his name - Aragorn. If there is any virtue in that, this may help." The fragrance filled the room with a scent like sun on the meadows. Rosie took the bowl and began to wash Posie's face and arms.

She even urged Posie to sip a little as tea. "It's nice," the child said dreamily, "like drinking flowers." Amber looked even more worried.

The day dragged on, and no one remembered to eat lunch. Both went to the door a dozen times, hoping for the healer. Finally they heard a cart, and Mother Cotton arrived with her big bag of medicines. She took charge immediately.

"There's no more time to wait. The streaks are above her ankle.
Clear the table," she directed as she pulled various items out.
"Here, Rosie, chop these for a poltice. I'm going to cut that swelling open." She smiled approval at the young onions. "Just the thing." Then she noticed the scent from the bowl. "What is that?"
When Rosie explained, she sighed, "It can't hurt," which left Rosie knowing just how bad things looked.

Rosie started chopping: onions, Athelas, Golden Seal - she threw in everything they had, and put the chopped mess into a small skillet on the stove with some of the boiled water.

By this time Amber was looking pale herself, so Rosie had her stir the poltice. She held Posie's hands tightly. More tightly than was needed, for Posie wasn't fussing a bit as Mother Cotton cut open the swollen heel. The child seemed to be somewhere else, talking of flowers and playing in the meadow.

There was a spurt of blood and pus, which Mother Cotton wiped away.
In the pus was a tiny thorn, which she set aside. "It must have worked its way in slowly, so the skin healed around it. I've seen it before, very dangerous!" Finally she had the wound cleaned out and bleeding cleanly.

Now Amber passed her the slightly cooled pan, and she scooped some of the poltice into a patty to fit the heel, wrapping it in a hot,
wet towel. "We'll keep this hot until we see improvement." Mother Cotton spoke with assurance, yet Rosie and Amber both knew if there was no improvement the next step would have to be amputation. The afternoon dragged on into teatime.

With a clatter of cart wheels and muddy sounds of pony feet, the door opened. In rushed Amber's husband, followed by Tad and finally by the healer with his bag.

The three ladies were seated around the table, sewing by lamplight,
with cups of tea. On the settle by the fire was the folded quilt.
Mother Cotton looked up and smiled, "You're late. Come look."
She rose.

The father looked stunned. "Posie - where's my baby?"

Amber smiled an exhausted smile, "She's fine. See," as she opened the side door, "she's sleeping peacefully in her room."

Posie woke up, and, seeing her daddy, reached up her arms. He took her up and carried her back to the firelight. Her little foot was bandaged, dangling under her nightgown, but there were no marks on her ankle.

The healer was amazed. "I was not expecting this! Mother Cotton,
you are a wonder! You saved the child!"

Mother Cotton shook her head. "Not me. Rosie saved her, with a weed."

Lynn Hocraffer Feb 25, 2004 minor corrections May 18, 2009