A/N: This has nothing to do with my current fanfic "Imprisoned" which will
be continued as normal. This is just something else that struck me one day
and I decided to write it no matter how much it broke my heart ::tears:: Oh
this hurts! Please R&R!
~~~
Elanor cradled her newborn son in her arms, tenderly caressing his soft cheeks. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down at the bundle, no more than three months had he been in this world and she still looked upon her new son with wonder. She sat in an old wood chair, sturdy and gently carved. She leaned back and watched the sun nestle in the bough of far off trees. It was that cool time of year when the sunsets lit the sky with gold and bronze fire and the clouds were lined with crimson light. The nights glittered with silver and the dawns were grey with dew and ere the sun could reach noon the day was already gold and fair.
Elanor did not turn when she heard the round, green door creak open and someone pad softly towards her chair. A gentle hand fell on her shoulder and she smiled up at her husband. He looked down at her, his crown of hair rimmed with fire from the sky and his eyes shown gold as they shimmered with sparks.
"Every time I look at you, Fastred love, I am reminded why I married you," she said in a fair voice.
"And every time I hear you speak, Elanor love, I am too enraptured with your presence to even think."
"Then I will be quiet and let you tell me what you came out here for."
He bent down and kissed her cheek, tenderly, and then as he rose graced the tip of her ear with his lips. There he lingered and spoke softly, "He needs you. I was afraid to wake your father or mother, they get so little time to rest. I did not want to disturb you, love, but he will not see me." Then he added in a sad and weary tone, "He is afraid."
Elanor felt her heart tighten as she placed her precious bundle in her husband's arms and smoothed out her skirts. Then she looked up at her husband and for a moment they only had eyes for each other. Her green eyes shone and were bright in the fire of the sunset and Fastred felt his heart quicken as he gazed at the unwithering beauty of his dear wife. He held his first born son in his arms and then looked at the child that they had brought into this world together. He longed to hold his wife now, to run his hands through her soft hair and touch her blushing cheeks. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her that he would protect her from the dark and that she would never have to look into the eyes of fear or grief. But that was where she was going, into the very dark to stare down fear and grief and pain and clean it away as best she could. He kissed her lightly and smiled wanly.
"Be strong, dear wife."
"I have to be."
She turned and walked into the dim house. She took another look back at her husband, standing forlorn on the porch staring after her and clutching their son dearly. He was framed with golden fire and his eyes shone with sadness and admiration. Elanor had grown up with great tales of elves, men, and hobbits. Elvish tales, translated by Master Bilbo Baggins, littered her room. She had read the tale of Beren and Luthien twelve times and of Turin Turumbar thrice. She had memorized Bilbo's tale of his journey with the dwarves and the finding of the Ring and she had read her own father's tale countless times of Frodo of Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom. As she looked upon her husband, standing there he seemed like a hero of old with a tale of his own against the fiery wall of the sky holding the precious bundle close. With one last glance she turned and fled down the halls.
Elanor stopped when she came by the sitting room. A fire was alive in the hearth, new wood was placed on it by her loving husband. She saw that he had also taken a quilt and tucked it around her father. He sat, nodding lightly, in his chair. Samwise had indeed aged far beyond his years for his heart was shattered and burdened with grief and sorrow. Many a night Elanor had found him sobbing in his room or in the arms of his wife. Rosie, too, was wearied by shadow of grief that loomed in the small hobbit hole. It was not always so terrifying. Bag-End had once been a peaceful welcoming place. She could just barely remember the happy days of childhood when it was just beginning. The shadow grew quickly and consumed them. Very few times did Elanor find escape from its strangling grasp. Deep in her heart she knew that she could not raise Elfstan in this home. Her youngest brother, Tom, had just turned twelve and even he could find little happiness in his own home. Her heart wept for her blighted family, for there was nothing she could do. There was nothing anyone could do.
She knew, by the size of her family, that her father and her mother shared such a great love that they often took comfort each other on the dark nights. This thought made her smile. Even in this darkness they could find light and joy within each other. There had to be love with thirteen children. Even in her childhood she saw her parents stealing longing looks at each other across the table or the sitting room that put joy in their eyes once more. They would go for short walks, just to get away for a short while, but her father could never be away long. He could never do that.
Elanor leaned forward and placed a kiss upon the crown of her father's grey hair. He murmured lightly and his breathing caught. As she pulled away he slowly drifted back asleep. Elanor smiled gently. She remembered one night, when she was a lass of ten summers, she woke up to hear the screams coming from the study. She was not afraid, for she knew what they were. They happened often and all it did to her was fill her heart with great sadness and pity. She lay awake, listening to them but they did not stop. She heard her father and mother come rushing from their room like they always did. In time the door opened and closed again and the screams had nearly subsided. Curious, she crawled from her bed and crept into the hall. She saw her father standing on the porch, framed in the round, open door way. Moonlight steamed through is gold curls making him seem pale and lined with silver.
She approached him tentatively, "Papa?"
"Did he wake you up again, Elanor lass?" said Samwise, lifted his daughter into his arms.
"I don't mind, but it makes me sad."
"I know, it makes us all sad." Sam fell into silence and Elanor looked at him curiously.
"Is he alone in there?"
"Your mother is with him."
"When might I see him again? I miss him something awful."
Sam smiled sadly, "He misses you too, lass. Perhaps one day, when he is feeling well."
"He has been 'feeling well' less and less it seems, Papa."
Sam did not answer but Elanor saw the tears glisten down his cheeks. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and sobbed.
"Elanor, I know things seem dark, like they'll never get better, like it'll just consume you forever." Elanor looked at her father and saw he was staring at the stars. She looked up at the tiny points of light and they filled her heart with joy and peace. "No matter how dark the shadow is there is always a light and high beauty forever beyond its reach."
They had both felt joy that night. She knew that the feeling she got from those stars was the feeling her father and mother found in each other on those dark nights. Elanor turned and left the sitting room, wiping tears from her eyes. She went into her parent's room and came to her father's desk. Upon it all of the books and notes of his great journey were organized neatly, the Red Book, old and worn, on top of a great pile. She did not need to search long. There on a small nail hung a ring with one iron key hanging from it. It was the only item on the desk with no dust on it. It was often used.
She took it gingerly and left the room swiftly. She knew she should not linger long. She went straight down the hall and the air got colder as she went. The shadows seemed to leap from the walls, grasping at her, as the darkness grew. Her heart grew cold but she was not afraid. Many times she walked down this hall of nightmares, she faced them bravely just as her father had done. As she walked she thought of the part of the book when her father and Mr. Frodo were stumbling through Shelob's lair. She got a chill but held her breath and went on. When she came to the door her steady hands fit the key into the lock. The bolt slid away and the knob turned deafly. As the door opened Elanor entered the dark of the room without a single hesitation.
"Don't let them in!" came a wild voice. She shut the door quickly.
"Frodo?" Elanor came forward to a figure on a disheveled bed. He was sitting with his knees curled up and his hands wrapped around his legs. He rocked slowly, wild eyes intent on Elanor as she came forward. He twitched slightly as if she were coming to strike him and he winced at the light the door let filter in. The frightfully thin creature seemed but the shadow of Frodo Baggins. His skin was pale as moonlight and was drawn tightly around his bones. His clothes hung loosely, and although Rosie and Elanor made well sure that he ate like a proper hobbit should and tailored the finest clothes for him it did nothing. Once a new tunic was made he had grown too thin for it. Food did nothing for him if he ever consented to eat it. Black shadows circled his bloodshot eyes showing that he had not slept for days. The eyes, once vibrant and blue, died to a faded grey as if the tears of so much time had finally drained them of their color. He had not aged like Sam did, though. Frodo did not age, he faded. His light grew dim and his body was almost clear as a glass of water. But he did not grow old at all save for his hair which was now lightly frosted like the dark earth under frost. And his body did seem perpetually wintered. His skin frigid to the touch and his eyes often frozen like a pond in winter. His lips were even paler and drawn tight but he still seemed fair as a glass figure. He was always cold and refused to allow fire to be lit in his hearth. Blankets and quilts were piled on his bed but due to his thrashing they hardly stayed there.
"Who-" stuttered the pathetic creature.
"It's Elanor, Mr. Frodo." He looked around, eyes wide with fright. He trembled and heaved with sobs. Elanor sat on the bed and her weight shifted his fragile frame. He cried out, his left arm falling like a cold stone upon the bed. He wailed in agony and unfurled like a weak thing. He collapsed into Elanor and wept.
"Rosie! Don't tell Sam that I'm ill again! It will break his heart so!" Frodo rambled. He looked up at Elanor and smiled blearily as if blind to his own appearance. "When I get better we'll tell Sam that I was just tired, or working on the book. Yes yes! Working on the book! Such a long tale to tell." His eyes grew distant then returned to rest on Elanor. "When I get better. When I get better." Elanor stroked his curls lovingly. She had not the heart to explain to him again. He just kept forgetting anyway. He had been in that dark room for years now. He could not leave, he was dangerous to himself and others. He would never get better. He fell back onto the bed and writhed, tangling himself in the sheets. Elanor tried desperately to get a hold of him but he was far to strong. He pounded the bed with a fist and grunted as if to relieve the pain. His teary, bloodshot eyes settled on Elanor as his thrashing ceased. "When can I see the sun again? Didn't I love the sun?"
"Yes," she choked, stroking his hand. "You did."
"Ah but I remember now! What a fool I've been. It burns! Yes that cruel thing watched me like- like an eye!" His eyes grew wide and his words became halting. "Like a red- eye- watching-" Frodo's eyes lost focus as he trembled. Elanor caught his face in her fair hand and stroked his cheek lovingly. There was nothing she could say to drive away the darkness. He was like this all the time now. It was never a fleeting thing. *This* was this tormented hobbit's life. For seven years he lay in this room. Before that he was rarely out of it. After his first violent out burst that began it all.
Elanor had heard of farm animals that went mad when they had to suffer a great pain. They went wild and became destructive just trying to end their own pain. Just trying to end their suffering. Frodo had once thrown himself against the door of his room so many times it fell off the hinges. When Sam came home he found him lying unconscious on the broken door in a stain of blood. He was then removed to this very study where he stayed ever on.
"Why don't they stop?" he whispered in a frightened tone. "Can't you hear them?" his voice became hysterical. "Can't you hear them! Screaming! Voices!" he gripped her hand hard and her eyes teared but Elanor suppressed a yelp. "Promising so much!" his lips curled into a contorted smile. "So much happiness... free of pain... yes whatever you want of me.. I'll do it..." he laughed a hysterical laugh. He let go of Elanor's hand and he brought both of his hands up to his neck. He fumbled with something that was not there and slipped something only he could see over a finger that was no longer there. "You can't see me! You can never find me! You can't get me now! You cannot torment me now!"
His clouded eyes focussed slowly on Elanor's sorrowful features. "Rosie? Oh Rosie," he wept and then pulled away as if disgusted with himself. "I'm wretched! Wretched!" He clawed at his own lifeless arm where white scars showed that he had done such violent things to himself before. Elanor reached out cautiously, knowing not to get into his way. His cold eyes fell on her and he backed away until he fell off of the bed with a thud.
"Mr. Frodo!"
He jumped to his feet and backed away from her, still tearing at his arm. "No! Stay away! I won't let you have it! Can't you see it's mine!" Blood slowly surfaced along the tears in his arm. "Ha! You thought you could steal it! But it's mine!" he laughed madly, "You'll never get your thieving little hands on it! Mine! Mine forever!" He collapsed in the corner under the window and rocked back and forth with his head bowed. He muttered insanely, "They'll never take it from me! Never!" he laughed again, voice shaking. "Can't sleep! They'll take it while I'm asleep! Always awake! Always alert! His voice died down to incoherent mumbling.
When Elanor thought it safe she approached Frodo once more. She knelt and put her arms around him. Slowly he looked up and gasped. "You cannot be here!" He stroked her arms and nodded his head frantically. Elanor had the image of Gollum for a moment, stroking and tugging at Frodo, urging him forward. "Can't let them get you too! No no! That would not do!" He crawled forward and tugged at her, eyes pleading. "Come come! You must find protection! Cannot be here! No no! They'll get you!"
"Oh Frodo!" Elanor wept, "There's no one here. No one is here to hurt either of us."
Frodo looked around confused for a moment. He sat down and passed his hand over his eyes. "No... there isn't... wait. Where?"
"We're in Bag-End, Frodo, safe in your study."
"Elanor-lass?" He squinted as if to see her from far off. "My you've grown. Why, I can remember when you were just a little lass. Such a sweet babe." he smiled and closed his eyes as if in a dream. Elanor inched forward and cradled him gently. He rested his head in the crook of her neck and sighed peacefully. "What a terrible dream I've had."
"I know," she wept. He often had lapses back to sanity. They were short, never lasting long enough to cherish. She held him tight like a mother trying to sooth her child who awoke from a nightmare. It would have been more accurate to describe him as a sufferer who slept to a peaceful dream. For it was as fleeting as a dream. He rarely came to his senses fully, but when he did it was terrible to behold. The old hobbit he was filtered back as fresh water trickling back into the cracked glass. His eyes would grow pained with knowing what he had become, everything he had done. When he knew were the times when it broke Elanor's heart the most. He knew the anguish he caused the Gamgee family, the terror he spread through their house at night. How the little ones grew up in fear of him. He knew how he tortured Sam with his lingering presence, waking him and Rose at nights, frightening their children. Knowing he kept them busy caring for him every waking moment giving them little time for joy or rest. These were the times Elanor was glad for their fleeting glimpses. This was when he was pained the most.
Elanor came to perceive that the hobbit was weeping in her arms. This was one of those times.
"Oh Elanor, how long?"
"Best not to say Mr. Frodo."
"It seems like forever... it's been years since I've seen the outside hasn't it?"
Silence.
He sighed with despair, "Where is Sam?"
"Resting."
"Good. Let him." Frodo eased away from her and stared down at his bleeding arm. He scrunched his face up in self disgust. "I really am wretched... Please." His eyes slowly rose up to Elanor's face and they locked with her eyes. His were filled with such agony and sorrow. He was no longer plagued with his pains on anniversaries any more. It was every day of every year. Always a struggle. Always a failing struggle. Those sad, pitiful eyes ran across the room, destroyed from his most violent outbursts. Walls were clawed at, curtains were torn down and ripped. Bed sheets and quilts were sprawled everywhere, on the floor or draped over chairs. The pillows were thrown by the foot of the bed and across the room. One of the bedposts was snapped and someone had sanded it so it was blunt and Frodo could not hurt himself with it. The missing piece was taken away. The sheets were torn up and bloodied. Two panes in the small, round window were shattered and replaced by small boards to keep the cold out. "Have I," Frodo gulped, "hurt anyone?"
"Not today," said Elanor sadly.
Frodo blanched. "I- I can't-"
"I know." Elanor hugged herself as if protecting herself from the cold. Frodo wished he could hold her as he should be, as a good uncle would. But he was afraid to get near her. He wished not to taint her with the evil that dwelt within him. He began to tremble.
"Please," he began again. "P- please, give me something, anything. J-j-just make it- stop." Elanor looked sternly into his pitiful eyes but said nothing. "My s- sword, where is-"
"Don't ask me for that."
He bowed his head and did not speak but his trembling increased to a violent shaking. Elanor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder but he pulled away with a terrible hiss. "Achsss!"
He limped away, cradling his left arm. He crawled for a few strides and collapsed gasping for air. His frail form rose and fell as he heaved and trembled. Elanor knew he was having a spell again and she fought with herself to stay or go. Staying would be putting herself in danger. Leaving would be cruel. Despite her better judgement, she stayed.
He wrapped his arms together tightly as if to stay the trembling but he kicked madly with his legs still dragging himself away from her. He hissed and whimpered, tears streaming down his face, drool streaming down his jaw.
Elanor's breath hitched as she neared him. "Frodo," she whispered soothingly. "Frodo."
"-away-" came a whispering hiss. "g-g-go- AWAY!"
Elanor stopped for a moment. She hesitated. Frodo slowly struggled to his feet then fell to the ground in a heap, trembling and convulsing. He struggled to stand again. This time he straddled his legs to keep balanced. His hands clenched, his back hunched as he tried to stay the trembling. His eyes darkened.
"Frodo," Elanor whispered again.
He turned quickly and glared at her. "You!" he spat his saliva dripping down his chin like some wild beast. "You! I should have killed you when I had the chance! Sam was right! And now we'll have it! Now you'll die!" He advanced quickly and Elanor struggled to her feet and darted to the door. He stormed after her tripping over the bed as he went. His hands wrapped around the shortened bedpost and he clawed at it fiercely. With strength beyond what it seemed he could have he thrust the bed and it flipped with a groan and a crash. He bounded after her eyes dark and afire. When she reached the door she turned and caught a last look at that monster in his eyes before she slammed the door inches from his face. Her shaking hands fumbled around the key before she placed it in the lock and the bolt slid home. It was locked.
There came a roar of anger from within and a terrible pounding on the door that made it shake and tremble. "Let me out! Let me out!" Elanor sank to the ground and put her head in her hands. Slowly the threats and screams died down to sorrowful pleas. "Please!" cried a pitiful voice and she heard it travel to the ground. He was curled up, inches away from her, the only thing between them was the door. His thin fingers groped under the small crack. "Please I'll be a good boy," he murmured. "I'll be good. Just please let me out. Please. Please. Please. I won't hurt anyone any more. I really didn't mean to. I don't know why I do. It hurts. It always hurts. They won't stop tormenting me. They won't stop!"
Elanor wept. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," she whispered to herself. "I can't. I wish I could. I'm sorry that you have to suffer this. I'm sorry."
She heard his heart-breaking sobs and whimpers. "Where is Sam. He wouldn't leave me. We're so close to the end. But they took It. They took everything," he sobbed. "He'll come. And I'll be waiting. They can torment me, they can whip me all they want. My Sam will come for me. My Sam still loves me."
His voice was high with fear and madness. Elanor wept long until she saw a shadow before her. She looked up and saw her father standing there, his eyes sad and swimming with tears.
"Did you hear it?" she asked meekly.
Sam's lip trembled but he could say nothing. He put his head in his hands and sobbed. She rose and wrapped her arms around him. They cried together and she could hear that Frodo's pleas had finally died down. He might have passed out from exhaustion. He refused to sleep so she was sometimes thankful for his unconsciousness. Elanor took a deep breath and steadied her father. She slipped the key back into the lock. The door was blocked with something. She saw a little, white hand fall out into the hallway, limp and pale as a clean sheet. Sam fell to his knees and grabbed the cold hand, stroking it lovingly. He cried over it for a moment and lay a gentle kiss upon it. "Oh Mr. Frodo."
Elanor pushed the door open gently, sliding the body so that she could slip in. She lifted the frail body, light as a feather pillow, and carried it to the bed. Sam shuffled in and turned the bed back around. He fixed the sheets dutifully and shifted the bed back to its proper place. Elanor laid Frodo out and folded his hands across his chest. It rose and fell with slow labored breaths. His frail heart was pounding. Elanor went about the room folding the discarded blankets and placing some over Frodo. She leaned forward and kissed his brow gently. Sam rubbed his cold hands and wept as he heard his daughter begin a soft song, low and soothing.
They pulled up two chairs and stayed like that late into the night. Sam began to nod when Elanor took him by the elbow and led him to bed. Her mother was sitting up looking at a book but she was not reading it. She was silently worrying. When her eyes fell on the two entering the room she rose unsteadily and held her husband in a tight embrace.
"I love you my Rose."
She sighed, breathing him in deeply, tears stinging her eyes. "I love you more every day my Sam."
"Do you regret-" He began unsteadily.
"Shh," she put her finger to his lips. "Thirteen children and you ask if I have any regrets. Not a one my Sam. Not a one."
Elanor smiled and left her parents alone. She went into the kitchen and saw that her husband was making tea for them. "You read my mind," she sighed, slipping into a chair.
"I married you for it," Fastred smiled and handed her a teacup. "It is the only thing that rivals your beauty."
Elanor blushed and laughed, "A poet you are not Fastred of Greenholm. But that is not why I married you." She pulled her chair closer to his and rested her head on his chest. He sighed contentedly stroking her hair. "Where is Elfstan?"
"I put him to bed. He is a beautiful boy."
"Like his father."
"Elanor," he began and she caught the catch in his voice.
"What's wrong."
He smiled wanly. "Do you think it is... healthy... for Elfstan to grow up..." His voice slowly faded. Elanor sighed. "I shouldn't have.." He finished lamely.
"No," she admitted. "You're right. I love my father and my mother with all of my heart but they have my brothers and sisters to help them with Mr. Frodo. I love him too. He was such a kind wonderful hobbit. My father loved him. He doesn't deserve this." Her voice cracked, "I hate to leave him. To leave them all. But where would we go?" She looked up at him sadly.
"King Elessar has offered to make me Warden of Westmarch. We could move to a new home in Undertowers. But only if you like, Elanor."
She thought about this for a moment. "If it is best for Elfstan. But let me think, just a little while longer."
"That's a love," he kissed her forehead.
They finished their tea at leisure and cleaned the kitchen together. It was one of those few times of peace in that home. When Elanor looked at her husband she thought of the light and high beauty forever beyond the reach of the darkness and she smiled. Once finished he started toward their bedroom when she took him by the hand and led him outside.
"Where are you taking me, it's late dear."
"I know," she lead him out to the porch. "Look at the stars." He looked up and smiled blissfully. "No matter how dark the shadow is there is always a light and high beauty forever beyond its reach."
His eyes fell on his wife and they shone tenderly. "How many times have I told you I loved you."
"There's no such number," she smiled tenderly and leaned forward to kiss him.
They went off to bed to sleep away their sorrow.
~~~
Morning had not yet broken when wails could be heard coming from the study. Elanor awoke suddenly and her keen ears also picked up her son as he started to cry. Fastred shot up next. She looked at her husband but neither had to say a word. He went to care for their son as she bounded towards the study, hoping that no one had yet heard. When she reached it she remembered the key but oddly it was open. She turned the knob and peered in. Her brothers Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were already in there holding Frodo down to the bed. He thrashed and fought wildly, crying out in terrible wails. She ran forward and smoothed her hand across his brow. His glazed eyes looked up at Elanor pleading. "Let me die!" he wailed over and over. "Why do you let me suffer!" The convulsed violently.
Frodo-lad had him by the right arm and Merry by the left while Pippin held his legs tightly. "Get his tonic!" grunted Frodo as he held the thrashing arm tightly. Elanor fled to the kitchen and sought the highest cabinet, out of the reach of small hands. She pulled out an amber bottle clearly marked from the local doctor. Elanor could remember hundreds of doctors coming in and out of her home during childhood. They would lock themselves in the study with her father and Frodo or just Frodo and examine him. They all came out with the same sorrowful looks on their faces. Hobbits and elves came from near and far. Even men who were not allowed in the Shire were granted admittance by the King to see Frodo in some form of hope. They found none.
They were given countless sedatives and an endless supply of athelas. Some doctors recommending warm steam baths or even an odd thing called hypnotism. Over the years hope faded, everything was tried and nothing helped. Sam lost hope and he aged twice as quickly as he should have. Rosie tried to keep a bright personality but soon her vibrancy was dulled. Elanor could remember one instance with a hobbit doctor vividly. It was not long after Frodo's most violent outburst when the broke down the door to his room. Since then he was removed to the study and there he stayed.
~~~
She had been reading in the sitting room when she heard voices leave the study. Her curiosity won in the end and she crept out of the sitting room, following the voices to the kitchen. She peered in to see her father sitting at the table with the doctor. They both looked grave.
"Well there's nothing I can do except give you a sedative for his violence."
"We have countless a those." Sam bowed his head and ran his hands through his hair.
"Aye, you do. But I can tell you this. He's goin' to get a good deal worse and I don't reckon he's goin' to get better after that."
Sam sighed loudly.
"It's a pity," said the doctor compassionately. "I haven't seen a case so bad. I seen moontouched patients before, they are not nearly so violent. He's gonna be dangerous."
"He's... not moontouched..." said Sam in a quavering voice but rising with anger. "He is wounded from bearing evil away from YOUR home. Be grateful to him!"
"Well he has lost it, Master Gamgee, and he won't get it back."
Sam pounded his fist on the table but clenched his teeth and bit his tongue.
"He's in a lot of pain," said the doctor thoughtfully. "So much I think he would end his own suffering if he were given the chance." Here the doctor paused as if waiting for Sam to say something.
Sam looked up briefly then back down. "He has tried... many times..."
"He is in pain constantly without end. It doesn't even let him sleep. He just stays awake through it all until his body cannot handle it any more and he passes out. Do you think it may be for the best..."
"I could never do such a thing! After he did so much! So much!" Sam turned the table over in his rage. "Get out! Get out! Never speak of such a horrible thing again! He was my master! He was my friend! I cannot!"
The doctor fled. When he got to the door her turned around and a look of pity was in his eyes. "It is cruel to leave him like this."
"GET OUT! OR I WILL PUT YOU OUT OF YOUR MISERY!"
~~~
Elanor sighed but hearing another heart-trending wail darted back with the sedative in hand. Her brothers were having trouble holding down the thrashing form when she returned. Now she saw that her sister, Rosie had also come and was putting a cool cloth to his brow. He tossed it off angrily. "Let me die! Please! Let me diiieee!!!" As his mouth was open in this last cry Elanor put the bottle to his lips and forced him to take a gulp. His fuming eyes shot toward her accusingly as he spat and drooled the amber liquid out. But enough went down and shortly his thrashing slowed as his head lolled.
His half-lidded eyes roved about the bleary figures around him. He struggled to keep them open as his jaw went slack. Rosie dabbed at his drool gently and looked at him with pity and love. He lolled his head to face her and his face twitched with anguish.
"P-pl-ple-ase le-et m-me diiee..." his voice faded on that last note and his head dropped.
The siblings looked at one another hesitantly. Elanor approached slowly and lifted one of his eyelids. She saw the white of his eye, bloodshot, and the rim of his faded iris rolling up. "He's out."
The boys let go with a sigh and stood around the bed for a moment. They lingered until their father appeared in the doorway his eyes puffy from tears. Rosie was the first to reach her father's side. She helped him to the kitchen as the boy went to prepare first breakfast.
Elanor pulled up a chair and stayed running her fair hands through Frodo's hair soothingly and humming a song. Even in his sleep his face was troubled with the pains of a broken mind.
Elanor's thoughts drifted back to when she was a hobbit lass of only five summers... before the shadow was so great...
~~~
"Uncle Frodo?"
"Yes Elanor-lass?"
"Tell me a story."
The old Ring-bearer sat comfortably in front of the hearth as it glowed with a vibrant, wild fire. Frodo puffed on his pipe and smiled cunningly as he bopped Elanor gently with it.
"Hey!"
He chuckled gently and eased her more comfortably on his knee. "What about Bilbo the Barrel-rider?"
Her eyes lit up, "Don't forget the part about," and she made her voice low and comical, "'Thag you berry much.'"
He laughed again, "Oh, I'd never."
There came a laugh from across the room and Elanor looked at her father who was smoking his pipe, watching his daughter and master, eyes shining. Her mother was just smiling and shaking her head as she knit. Her little siblings had already fallen asleep and she was rather proud of her own strength in being able to stay awake with the grown ups.
"One story then off to bed, Elanor," her mother warned.
"Aww Maa-maa!" she whined accenting the 'mama'.
Frodo frowned playfully and imitated her, "Yeeeaaa Maa-maa!"
"Don't you start with me Master Baggins!" laughed Rosie not looking up from her knitting.
Frodo feigned fright, "Oh no, I won't, Mistress Rose. Don't scold me."
Elanor giggled and gave Uncle Frodo a punch in the shoulder. He dropped his pipe and gasped. Sam sat up immediately but Frodo waved him down and rubbed his shoulder. "Let's not hit Uncle Frodo there, ok?" Elanor nodded gravely. "Now where was I? Oh yes."
And he began with Bilbo's barrel ride down the river with the dwarves. Hardly did he get a chance to finish that Sam noticed the weariness in his voice and sent Elanor off to bed.
"But Paa-paa!"
"No buts, miss, Uncle Frodo will finish the story tomorrow."
Elanor looked at Frodo for confirmation of this promise. He nodded slightly, clutching his shoulder. Sam lead her away and tucked her in.
"It's another anniversary, isn't it Mr. Frodo?" Rose looked up.
Frodo nodded and gasped as another pinch of pain hit his shoulder.
~~~
Elanor wept as she stroked the drugged hobbit's brow. That was the beginning of it all.
"I never got to hear how the story ends," she muttered to herself.
Frodo's slack jaw rose and fell soundlessly a few times as his eyelids fluttered halfway open. All she could see was the white of his eyes as he struggled to wake.
"Sleep please," she begged.
"St- stowy... d-don' e-end..." he slurred. "Y-yuu wa-won' let i-it..." His eyes roved nervelessly and they struggled to focus on her. His brow furrowed in fury. "Le-lemme- d-die... Pw-eeaase... h-hurs...p-pain.." His frail hand wavered and gripped her shoulder weakly, desperately. "Th- this...p-pri-ison.. y-yuu l-lock m-mee... l-like b-ba-beast..."
Elanor watched him in horror, "I can't! It would kill my father!"
Frodo's head lolled, "W-whoo?"
"Sam! Sam! My father!"
His head fell back and his body rose and fell in a struggled gasp.
"I'm sorry," she wept. "I just don't have the heart."
~~~
Elanor cradled her newborn son in her arms, tenderly caressing his soft cheeks. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down at the bundle, no more than three months had he been in this world and she still looked upon her new son with wonder. She sat in an old wood chair, sturdy and gently carved. She leaned back and watched the sun nestle in the bough of far off trees. It was that cool time of year when the sunsets lit the sky with gold and bronze fire and the clouds were lined with crimson light. The nights glittered with silver and the dawns were grey with dew and ere the sun could reach noon the day was already gold and fair.
Elanor did not turn when she heard the round, green door creak open and someone pad softly towards her chair. A gentle hand fell on her shoulder and she smiled up at her husband. He looked down at her, his crown of hair rimmed with fire from the sky and his eyes shown gold as they shimmered with sparks.
"Every time I look at you, Fastred love, I am reminded why I married you," she said in a fair voice.
"And every time I hear you speak, Elanor love, I am too enraptured with your presence to even think."
"Then I will be quiet and let you tell me what you came out here for."
He bent down and kissed her cheek, tenderly, and then as he rose graced the tip of her ear with his lips. There he lingered and spoke softly, "He needs you. I was afraid to wake your father or mother, they get so little time to rest. I did not want to disturb you, love, but he will not see me." Then he added in a sad and weary tone, "He is afraid."
Elanor felt her heart tighten as she placed her precious bundle in her husband's arms and smoothed out her skirts. Then she looked up at her husband and for a moment they only had eyes for each other. Her green eyes shone and were bright in the fire of the sunset and Fastred felt his heart quicken as he gazed at the unwithering beauty of his dear wife. He held his first born son in his arms and then looked at the child that they had brought into this world together. He longed to hold his wife now, to run his hands through her soft hair and touch her blushing cheeks. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her that he would protect her from the dark and that she would never have to look into the eyes of fear or grief. But that was where she was going, into the very dark to stare down fear and grief and pain and clean it away as best she could. He kissed her lightly and smiled wanly.
"Be strong, dear wife."
"I have to be."
She turned and walked into the dim house. She took another look back at her husband, standing forlorn on the porch staring after her and clutching their son dearly. He was framed with golden fire and his eyes shone with sadness and admiration. Elanor had grown up with great tales of elves, men, and hobbits. Elvish tales, translated by Master Bilbo Baggins, littered her room. She had read the tale of Beren and Luthien twelve times and of Turin Turumbar thrice. She had memorized Bilbo's tale of his journey with the dwarves and the finding of the Ring and she had read her own father's tale countless times of Frodo of Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom. As she looked upon her husband, standing there he seemed like a hero of old with a tale of his own against the fiery wall of the sky holding the precious bundle close. With one last glance she turned and fled down the halls.
Elanor stopped when she came by the sitting room. A fire was alive in the hearth, new wood was placed on it by her loving husband. She saw that he had also taken a quilt and tucked it around her father. He sat, nodding lightly, in his chair. Samwise had indeed aged far beyond his years for his heart was shattered and burdened with grief and sorrow. Many a night Elanor had found him sobbing in his room or in the arms of his wife. Rosie, too, was wearied by shadow of grief that loomed in the small hobbit hole. It was not always so terrifying. Bag-End had once been a peaceful welcoming place. She could just barely remember the happy days of childhood when it was just beginning. The shadow grew quickly and consumed them. Very few times did Elanor find escape from its strangling grasp. Deep in her heart she knew that she could not raise Elfstan in this home. Her youngest brother, Tom, had just turned twelve and even he could find little happiness in his own home. Her heart wept for her blighted family, for there was nothing she could do. There was nothing anyone could do.
She knew, by the size of her family, that her father and her mother shared such a great love that they often took comfort each other on the dark nights. This thought made her smile. Even in this darkness they could find light and joy within each other. There had to be love with thirteen children. Even in her childhood she saw her parents stealing longing looks at each other across the table or the sitting room that put joy in their eyes once more. They would go for short walks, just to get away for a short while, but her father could never be away long. He could never do that.
Elanor leaned forward and placed a kiss upon the crown of her father's grey hair. He murmured lightly and his breathing caught. As she pulled away he slowly drifted back asleep. Elanor smiled gently. She remembered one night, when she was a lass of ten summers, she woke up to hear the screams coming from the study. She was not afraid, for she knew what they were. They happened often and all it did to her was fill her heart with great sadness and pity. She lay awake, listening to them but they did not stop. She heard her father and mother come rushing from their room like they always did. In time the door opened and closed again and the screams had nearly subsided. Curious, she crawled from her bed and crept into the hall. She saw her father standing on the porch, framed in the round, open door way. Moonlight steamed through is gold curls making him seem pale and lined with silver.
She approached him tentatively, "Papa?"
"Did he wake you up again, Elanor lass?" said Samwise, lifted his daughter into his arms.
"I don't mind, but it makes me sad."
"I know, it makes us all sad." Sam fell into silence and Elanor looked at him curiously.
"Is he alone in there?"
"Your mother is with him."
"When might I see him again? I miss him something awful."
Sam smiled sadly, "He misses you too, lass. Perhaps one day, when he is feeling well."
"He has been 'feeling well' less and less it seems, Papa."
Sam did not answer but Elanor saw the tears glisten down his cheeks. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and sobbed.
"Elanor, I know things seem dark, like they'll never get better, like it'll just consume you forever." Elanor looked at her father and saw he was staring at the stars. She looked up at the tiny points of light and they filled her heart with joy and peace. "No matter how dark the shadow is there is always a light and high beauty forever beyond its reach."
They had both felt joy that night. She knew that the feeling she got from those stars was the feeling her father and mother found in each other on those dark nights. Elanor turned and left the sitting room, wiping tears from her eyes. She went into her parent's room and came to her father's desk. Upon it all of the books and notes of his great journey were organized neatly, the Red Book, old and worn, on top of a great pile. She did not need to search long. There on a small nail hung a ring with one iron key hanging from it. It was the only item on the desk with no dust on it. It was often used.
She took it gingerly and left the room swiftly. She knew she should not linger long. She went straight down the hall and the air got colder as she went. The shadows seemed to leap from the walls, grasping at her, as the darkness grew. Her heart grew cold but she was not afraid. Many times she walked down this hall of nightmares, she faced them bravely just as her father had done. As she walked she thought of the part of the book when her father and Mr. Frodo were stumbling through Shelob's lair. She got a chill but held her breath and went on. When she came to the door her steady hands fit the key into the lock. The bolt slid away and the knob turned deafly. As the door opened Elanor entered the dark of the room without a single hesitation.
"Don't let them in!" came a wild voice. She shut the door quickly.
"Frodo?" Elanor came forward to a figure on a disheveled bed. He was sitting with his knees curled up and his hands wrapped around his legs. He rocked slowly, wild eyes intent on Elanor as she came forward. He twitched slightly as if she were coming to strike him and he winced at the light the door let filter in. The frightfully thin creature seemed but the shadow of Frodo Baggins. His skin was pale as moonlight and was drawn tightly around his bones. His clothes hung loosely, and although Rosie and Elanor made well sure that he ate like a proper hobbit should and tailored the finest clothes for him it did nothing. Once a new tunic was made he had grown too thin for it. Food did nothing for him if he ever consented to eat it. Black shadows circled his bloodshot eyes showing that he had not slept for days. The eyes, once vibrant and blue, died to a faded grey as if the tears of so much time had finally drained them of their color. He had not aged like Sam did, though. Frodo did not age, he faded. His light grew dim and his body was almost clear as a glass of water. But he did not grow old at all save for his hair which was now lightly frosted like the dark earth under frost. And his body did seem perpetually wintered. His skin frigid to the touch and his eyes often frozen like a pond in winter. His lips were even paler and drawn tight but he still seemed fair as a glass figure. He was always cold and refused to allow fire to be lit in his hearth. Blankets and quilts were piled on his bed but due to his thrashing they hardly stayed there.
"Who-" stuttered the pathetic creature.
"It's Elanor, Mr. Frodo." He looked around, eyes wide with fright. He trembled and heaved with sobs. Elanor sat on the bed and her weight shifted his fragile frame. He cried out, his left arm falling like a cold stone upon the bed. He wailed in agony and unfurled like a weak thing. He collapsed into Elanor and wept.
"Rosie! Don't tell Sam that I'm ill again! It will break his heart so!" Frodo rambled. He looked up at Elanor and smiled blearily as if blind to his own appearance. "When I get better we'll tell Sam that I was just tired, or working on the book. Yes yes! Working on the book! Such a long tale to tell." His eyes grew distant then returned to rest on Elanor. "When I get better. When I get better." Elanor stroked his curls lovingly. She had not the heart to explain to him again. He just kept forgetting anyway. He had been in that dark room for years now. He could not leave, he was dangerous to himself and others. He would never get better. He fell back onto the bed and writhed, tangling himself in the sheets. Elanor tried desperately to get a hold of him but he was far to strong. He pounded the bed with a fist and grunted as if to relieve the pain. His teary, bloodshot eyes settled on Elanor as his thrashing ceased. "When can I see the sun again? Didn't I love the sun?"
"Yes," she choked, stroking his hand. "You did."
"Ah but I remember now! What a fool I've been. It burns! Yes that cruel thing watched me like- like an eye!" His eyes grew wide and his words became halting. "Like a red- eye- watching-" Frodo's eyes lost focus as he trembled. Elanor caught his face in her fair hand and stroked his cheek lovingly. There was nothing she could say to drive away the darkness. He was like this all the time now. It was never a fleeting thing. *This* was this tormented hobbit's life. For seven years he lay in this room. Before that he was rarely out of it. After his first violent out burst that began it all.
Elanor had heard of farm animals that went mad when they had to suffer a great pain. They went wild and became destructive just trying to end their own pain. Just trying to end their suffering. Frodo had once thrown himself against the door of his room so many times it fell off the hinges. When Sam came home he found him lying unconscious on the broken door in a stain of blood. He was then removed to this very study where he stayed ever on.
"Why don't they stop?" he whispered in a frightened tone. "Can't you hear them?" his voice became hysterical. "Can't you hear them! Screaming! Voices!" he gripped her hand hard and her eyes teared but Elanor suppressed a yelp. "Promising so much!" his lips curled into a contorted smile. "So much happiness... free of pain... yes whatever you want of me.. I'll do it..." he laughed a hysterical laugh. He let go of Elanor's hand and he brought both of his hands up to his neck. He fumbled with something that was not there and slipped something only he could see over a finger that was no longer there. "You can't see me! You can never find me! You can't get me now! You cannot torment me now!"
His clouded eyes focussed slowly on Elanor's sorrowful features. "Rosie? Oh Rosie," he wept and then pulled away as if disgusted with himself. "I'm wretched! Wretched!" He clawed at his own lifeless arm where white scars showed that he had done such violent things to himself before. Elanor reached out cautiously, knowing not to get into his way. His cold eyes fell on her and he backed away until he fell off of the bed with a thud.
"Mr. Frodo!"
He jumped to his feet and backed away from her, still tearing at his arm. "No! Stay away! I won't let you have it! Can't you see it's mine!" Blood slowly surfaced along the tears in his arm. "Ha! You thought you could steal it! But it's mine!" he laughed madly, "You'll never get your thieving little hands on it! Mine! Mine forever!" He collapsed in the corner under the window and rocked back and forth with his head bowed. He muttered insanely, "They'll never take it from me! Never!" he laughed again, voice shaking. "Can't sleep! They'll take it while I'm asleep! Always awake! Always alert! His voice died down to incoherent mumbling.
When Elanor thought it safe she approached Frodo once more. She knelt and put her arms around him. Slowly he looked up and gasped. "You cannot be here!" He stroked her arms and nodded his head frantically. Elanor had the image of Gollum for a moment, stroking and tugging at Frodo, urging him forward. "Can't let them get you too! No no! That would not do!" He crawled forward and tugged at her, eyes pleading. "Come come! You must find protection! Cannot be here! No no! They'll get you!"
"Oh Frodo!" Elanor wept, "There's no one here. No one is here to hurt either of us."
Frodo looked around confused for a moment. He sat down and passed his hand over his eyes. "No... there isn't... wait. Where?"
"We're in Bag-End, Frodo, safe in your study."
"Elanor-lass?" He squinted as if to see her from far off. "My you've grown. Why, I can remember when you were just a little lass. Such a sweet babe." he smiled and closed his eyes as if in a dream. Elanor inched forward and cradled him gently. He rested his head in the crook of her neck and sighed peacefully. "What a terrible dream I've had."
"I know," she wept. He often had lapses back to sanity. They were short, never lasting long enough to cherish. She held him tight like a mother trying to sooth her child who awoke from a nightmare. It would have been more accurate to describe him as a sufferer who slept to a peaceful dream. For it was as fleeting as a dream. He rarely came to his senses fully, but when he did it was terrible to behold. The old hobbit he was filtered back as fresh water trickling back into the cracked glass. His eyes would grow pained with knowing what he had become, everything he had done. When he knew were the times when it broke Elanor's heart the most. He knew the anguish he caused the Gamgee family, the terror he spread through their house at night. How the little ones grew up in fear of him. He knew how he tortured Sam with his lingering presence, waking him and Rose at nights, frightening their children. Knowing he kept them busy caring for him every waking moment giving them little time for joy or rest. These were the times Elanor was glad for their fleeting glimpses. This was when he was pained the most.
Elanor came to perceive that the hobbit was weeping in her arms. This was one of those times.
"Oh Elanor, how long?"
"Best not to say Mr. Frodo."
"It seems like forever... it's been years since I've seen the outside hasn't it?"
Silence.
He sighed with despair, "Where is Sam?"
"Resting."
"Good. Let him." Frodo eased away from her and stared down at his bleeding arm. He scrunched his face up in self disgust. "I really am wretched... Please." His eyes slowly rose up to Elanor's face and they locked with her eyes. His were filled with such agony and sorrow. He was no longer plagued with his pains on anniversaries any more. It was every day of every year. Always a struggle. Always a failing struggle. Those sad, pitiful eyes ran across the room, destroyed from his most violent outbursts. Walls were clawed at, curtains were torn down and ripped. Bed sheets and quilts were sprawled everywhere, on the floor or draped over chairs. The pillows were thrown by the foot of the bed and across the room. One of the bedposts was snapped and someone had sanded it so it was blunt and Frodo could not hurt himself with it. The missing piece was taken away. The sheets were torn up and bloodied. Two panes in the small, round window were shattered and replaced by small boards to keep the cold out. "Have I," Frodo gulped, "hurt anyone?"
"Not today," said Elanor sadly.
Frodo blanched. "I- I can't-"
"I know." Elanor hugged herself as if protecting herself from the cold. Frodo wished he could hold her as he should be, as a good uncle would. But he was afraid to get near her. He wished not to taint her with the evil that dwelt within him. He began to tremble.
"Please," he began again. "P- please, give me something, anything. J-j-just make it- stop." Elanor looked sternly into his pitiful eyes but said nothing. "My s- sword, where is-"
"Don't ask me for that."
He bowed his head and did not speak but his trembling increased to a violent shaking. Elanor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder but he pulled away with a terrible hiss. "Achsss!"
He limped away, cradling his left arm. He crawled for a few strides and collapsed gasping for air. His frail form rose and fell as he heaved and trembled. Elanor knew he was having a spell again and she fought with herself to stay or go. Staying would be putting herself in danger. Leaving would be cruel. Despite her better judgement, she stayed.
He wrapped his arms together tightly as if to stay the trembling but he kicked madly with his legs still dragging himself away from her. He hissed and whimpered, tears streaming down his face, drool streaming down his jaw.
Elanor's breath hitched as she neared him. "Frodo," she whispered soothingly. "Frodo."
"-away-" came a whispering hiss. "g-g-go- AWAY!"
Elanor stopped for a moment. She hesitated. Frodo slowly struggled to his feet then fell to the ground in a heap, trembling and convulsing. He struggled to stand again. This time he straddled his legs to keep balanced. His hands clenched, his back hunched as he tried to stay the trembling. His eyes darkened.
"Frodo," Elanor whispered again.
He turned quickly and glared at her. "You!" he spat his saliva dripping down his chin like some wild beast. "You! I should have killed you when I had the chance! Sam was right! And now we'll have it! Now you'll die!" He advanced quickly and Elanor struggled to her feet and darted to the door. He stormed after her tripping over the bed as he went. His hands wrapped around the shortened bedpost and he clawed at it fiercely. With strength beyond what it seemed he could have he thrust the bed and it flipped with a groan and a crash. He bounded after her eyes dark and afire. When she reached the door she turned and caught a last look at that monster in his eyes before she slammed the door inches from his face. Her shaking hands fumbled around the key before she placed it in the lock and the bolt slid home. It was locked.
There came a roar of anger from within and a terrible pounding on the door that made it shake and tremble. "Let me out! Let me out!" Elanor sank to the ground and put her head in her hands. Slowly the threats and screams died down to sorrowful pleas. "Please!" cried a pitiful voice and she heard it travel to the ground. He was curled up, inches away from her, the only thing between them was the door. His thin fingers groped under the small crack. "Please I'll be a good boy," he murmured. "I'll be good. Just please let me out. Please. Please. Please. I won't hurt anyone any more. I really didn't mean to. I don't know why I do. It hurts. It always hurts. They won't stop tormenting me. They won't stop!"
Elanor wept. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," she whispered to herself. "I can't. I wish I could. I'm sorry that you have to suffer this. I'm sorry."
She heard his heart-breaking sobs and whimpers. "Where is Sam. He wouldn't leave me. We're so close to the end. But they took It. They took everything," he sobbed. "He'll come. And I'll be waiting. They can torment me, they can whip me all they want. My Sam will come for me. My Sam still loves me."
His voice was high with fear and madness. Elanor wept long until she saw a shadow before her. She looked up and saw her father standing there, his eyes sad and swimming with tears.
"Did you hear it?" she asked meekly.
Sam's lip trembled but he could say nothing. He put his head in his hands and sobbed. She rose and wrapped her arms around him. They cried together and she could hear that Frodo's pleas had finally died down. He might have passed out from exhaustion. He refused to sleep so she was sometimes thankful for his unconsciousness. Elanor took a deep breath and steadied her father. She slipped the key back into the lock. The door was blocked with something. She saw a little, white hand fall out into the hallway, limp and pale as a clean sheet. Sam fell to his knees and grabbed the cold hand, stroking it lovingly. He cried over it for a moment and lay a gentle kiss upon it. "Oh Mr. Frodo."
Elanor pushed the door open gently, sliding the body so that she could slip in. She lifted the frail body, light as a feather pillow, and carried it to the bed. Sam shuffled in and turned the bed back around. He fixed the sheets dutifully and shifted the bed back to its proper place. Elanor laid Frodo out and folded his hands across his chest. It rose and fell with slow labored breaths. His frail heart was pounding. Elanor went about the room folding the discarded blankets and placing some over Frodo. She leaned forward and kissed his brow gently. Sam rubbed his cold hands and wept as he heard his daughter begin a soft song, low and soothing.
They pulled up two chairs and stayed like that late into the night. Sam began to nod when Elanor took him by the elbow and led him to bed. Her mother was sitting up looking at a book but she was not reading it. She was silently worrying. When her eyes fell on the two entering the room she rose unsteadily and held her husband in a tight embrace.
"I love you my Rose."
She sighed, breathing him in deeply, tears stinging her eyes. "I love you more every day my Sam."
"Do you regret-" He began unsteadily.
"Shh," she put her finger to his lips. "Thirteen children and you ask if I have any regrets. Not a one my Sam. Not a one."
Elanor smiled and left her parents alone. She went into the kitchen and saw that her husband was making tea for them. "You read my mind," she sighed, slipping into a chair.
"I married you for it," Fastred smiled and handed her a teacup. "It is the only thing that rivals your beauty."
Elanor blushed and laughed, "A poet you are not Fastred of Greenholm. But that is not why I married you." She pulled her chair closer to his and rested her head on his chest. He sighed contentedly stroking her hair. "Where is Elfstan?"
"I put him to bed. He is a beautiful boy."
"Like his father."
"Elanor," he began and she caught the catch in his voice.
"What's wrong."
He smiled wanly. "Do you think it is... healthy... for Elfstan to grow up..." His voice slowly faded. Elanor sighed. "I shouldn't have.." He finished lamely.
"No," she admitted. "You're right. I love my father and my mother with all of my heart but they have my brothers and sisters to help them with Mr. Frodo. I love him too. He was such a kind wonderful hobbit. My father loved him. He doesn't deserve this." Her voice cracked, "I hate to leave him. To leave them all. But where would we go?" She looked up at him sadly.
"King Elessar has offered to make me Warden of Westmarch. We could move to a new home in Undertowers. But only if you like, Elanor."
She thought about this for a moment. "If it is best for Elfstan. But let me think, just a little while longer."
"That's a love," he kissed her forehead.
They finished their tea at leisure and cleaned the kitchen together. It was one of those few times of peace in that home. When Elanor looked at her husband she thought of the light and high beauty forever beyond the reach of the darkness and she smiled. Once finished he started toward their bedroom when she took him by the hand and led him outside.
"Where are you taking me, it's late dear."
"I know," she lead him out to the porch. "Look at the stars." He looked up and smiled blissfully. "No matter how dark the shadow is there is always a light and high beauty forever beyond its reach."
His eyes fell on his wife and they shone tenderly. "How many times have I told you I loved you."
"There's no such number," she smiled tenderly and leaned forward to kiss him.
They went off to bed to sleep away their sorrow.
~~~
Morning had not yet broken when wails could be heard coming from the study. Elanor awoke suddenly and her keen ears also picked up her son as he started to cry. Fastred shot up next. She looked at her husband but neither had to say a word. He went to care for their son as she bounded towards the study, hoping that no one had yet heard. When she reached it she remembered the key but oddly it was open. She turned the knob and peered in. Her brothers Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were already in there holding Frodo down to the bed. He thrashed and fought wildly, crying out in terrible wails. She ran forward and smoothed her hand across his brow. His glazed eyes looked up at Elanor pleading. "Let me die!" he wailed over and over. "Why do you let me suffer!" The convulsed violently.
Frodo-lad had him by the right arm and Merry by the left while Pippin held his legs tightly. "Get his tonic!" grunted Frodo as he held the thrashing arm tightly. Elanor fled to the kitchen and sought the highest cabinet, out of the reach of small hands. She pulled out an amber bottle clearly marked from the local doctor. Elanor could remember hundreds of doctors coming in and out of her home during childhood. They would lock themselves in the study with her father and Frodo or just Frodo and examine him. They all came out with the same sorrowful looks on their faces. Hobbits and elves came from near and far. Even men who were not allowed in the Shire were granted admittance by the King to see Frodo in some form of hope. They found none.
They were given countless sedatives and an endless supply of athelas. Some doctors recommending warm steam baths or even an odd thing called hypnotism. Over the years hope faded, everything was tried and nothing helped. Sam lost hope and he aged twice as quickly as he should have. Rosie tried to keep a bright personality but soon her vibrancy was dulled. Elanor could remember one instance with a hobbit doctor vividly. It was not long after Frodo's most violent outburst when the broke down the door to his room. Since then he was removed to the study and there he stayed.
~~~
She had been reading in the sitting room when she heard voices leave the study. Her curiosity won in the end and she crept out of the sitting room, following the voices to the kitchen. She peered in to see her father sitting at the table with the doctor. They both looked grave.
"Well there's nothing I can do except give you a sedative for his violence."
"We have countless a those." Sam bowed his head and ran his hands through his hair.
"Aye, you do. But I can tell you this. He's goin' to get a good deal worse and I don't reckon he's goin' to get better after that."
Sam sighed loudly.
"It's a pity," said the doctor compassionately. "I haven't seen a case so bad. I seen moontouched patients before, they are not nearly so violent. He's gonna be dangerous."
"He's... not moontouched..." said Sam in a quavering voice but rising with anger. "He is wounded from bearing evil away from YOUR home. Be grateful to him!"
"Well he has lost it, Master Gamgee, and he won't get it back."
Sam pounded his fist on the table but clenched his teeth and bit his tongue.
"He's in a lot of pain," said the doctor thoughtfully. "So much I think he would end his own suffering if he were given the chance." Here the doctor paused as if waiting for Sam to say something.
Sam looked up briefly then back down. "He has tried... many times..."
"He is in pain constantly without end. It doesn't even let him sleep. He just stays awake through it all until his body cannot handle it any more and he passes out. Do you think it may be for the best..."
"I could never do such a thing! After he did so much! So much!" Sam turned the table over in his rage. "Get out! Get out! Never speak of such a horrible thing again! He was my master! He was my friend! I cannot!"
The doctor fled. When he got to the door her turned around and a look of pity was in his eyes. "It is cruel to leave him like this."
"GET OUT! OR I WILL PUT YOU OUT OF YOUR MISERY!"
~~~
Elanor sighed but hearing another heart-trending wail darted back with the sedative in hand. Her brothers were having trouble holding down the thrashing form when she returned. Now she saw that her sister, Rosie had also come and was putting a cool cloth to his brow. He tossed it off angrily. "Let me die! Please! Let me diiieee!!!" As his mouth was open in this last cry Elanor put the bottle to his lips and forced him to take a gulp. His fuming eyes shot toward her accusingly as he spat and drooled the amber liquid out. But enough went down and shortly his thrashing slowed as his head lolled.
His half-lidded eyes roved about the bleary figures around him. He struggled to keep them open as his jaw went slack. Rosie dabbed at his drool gently and looked at him with pity and love. He lolled his head to face her and his face twitched with anguish.
"P-pl-ple-ase le-et m-me diiee..." his voice faded on that last note and his head dropped.
The siblings looked at one another hesitantly. Elanor approached slowly and lifted one of his eyelids. She saw the white of his eye, bloodshot, and the rim of his faded iris rolling up. "He's out."
The boys let go with a sigh and stood around the bed for a moment. They lingered until their father appeared in the doorway his eyes puffy from tears. Rosie was the first to reach her father's side. She helped him to the kitchen as the boy went to prepare first breakfast.
Elanor pulled up a chair and stayed running her fair hands through Frodo's hair soothingly and humming a song. Even in his sleep his face was troubled with the pains of a broken mind.
Elanor's thoughts drifted back to when she was a hobbit lass of only five summers... before the shadow was so great...
~~~
"Uncle Frodo?"
"Yes Elanor-lass?"
"Tell me a story."
The old Ring-bearer sat comfortably in front of the hearth as it glowed with a vibrant, wild fire. Frodo puffed on his pipe and smiled cunningly as he bopped Elanor gently with it.
"Hey!"
He chuckled gently and eased her more comfortably on his knee. "What about Bilbo the Barrel-rider?"
Her eyes lit up, "Don't forget the part about," and she made her voice low and comical, "'Thag you berry much.'"
He laughed again, "Oh, I'd never."
There came a laugh from across the room and Elanor looked at her father who was smoking his pipe, watching his daughter and master, eyes shining. Her mother was just smiling and shaking her head as she knit. Her little siblings had already fallen asleep and she was rather proud of her own strength in being able to stay awake with the grown ups.
"One story then off to bed, Elanor," her mother warned.
"Aww Maa-maa!" she whined accenting the 'mama'.
Frodo frowned playfully and imitated her, "Yeeeaaa Maa-maa!"
"Don't you start with me Master Baggins!" laughed Rosie not looking up from her knitting.
Frodo feigned fright, "Oh no, I won't, Mistress Rose. Don't scold me."
Elanor giggled and gave Uncle Frodo a punch in the shoulder. He dropped his pipe and gasped. Sam sat up immediately but Frodo waved him down and rubbed his shoulder. "Let's not hit Uncle Frodo there, ok?" Elanor nodded gravely. "Now where was I? Oh yes."
And he began with Bilbo's barrel ride down the river with the dwarves. Hardly did he get a chance to finish that Sam noticed the weariness in his voice and sent Elanor off to bed.
"But Paa-paa!"
"No buts, miss, Uncle Frodo will finish the story tomorrow."
Elanor looked at Frodo for confirmation of this promise. He nodded slightly, clutching his shoulder. Sam lead her away and tucked her in.
"It's another anniversary, isn't it Mr. Frodo?" Rose looked up.
Frodo nodded and gasped as another pinch of pain hit his shoulder.
~~~
Elanor wept as she stroked the drugged hobbit's brow. That was the beginning of it all.
"I never got to hear how the story ends," she muttered to herself.
Frodo's slack jaw rose and fell soundlessly a few times as his eyelids fluttered halfway open. All she could see was the white of his eyes as he struggled to wake.
"Sleep please," she begged.
"St- stowy... d-don' e-end..." he slurred. "Y-yuu wa-won' let i-it..." His eyes roved nervelessly and they struggled to focus on her. His brow furrowed in fury. "Le-lemme- d-die... Pw-eeaase... h-hurs...p-pain.." His frail hand wavered and gripped her shoulder weakly, desperately. "Th- this...p-pri-ison.. y-yuu l-lock m-mee... l-like b-ba-beast..."
Elanor watched him in horror, "I can't! It would kill my father!"
Frodo's head lolled, "W-whoo?"
"Sam! Sam! My father!"
His head fell back and his body rose and fell in a struggled gasp.
"I'm sorry," she wept. "I just don't have the heart."