Chapter Nine: Strong For Too Long
There wasn't much hope for Frodo. We were six days away from Rivendell, and Strider said that Frodo was already passing into the shadow world. He could very well become a wraith. And that was even worse than Frodo dying.
We stopped for a very short rest in Troll Country because Frodo desperately needed something to help him. We actually got to see the trolls Mr. Bilbo witnessed turning to stone! I would've been incredibly interested on a normal day.
Strider gently placed Frodo down on a rock next to the trail. I immediately grabbed his hand. It was limp, senseless, and it felt as if it were ice.
"Strider," I croaked. "He's going even colder."
I saw genuine concern grow into Strider's eyes, and he said, "He's passing into the shadow world. He'll soon become a wraith like them. Sam, come with me to find some herbs to slow the poison.
"Larkspur," he called to me. I looked back to him with teary, sullen eyes. Strider sighed. "He's going to be alright. I promise you." With that he disappeared into the forest.
Frodo's eyes were distant, cloudy, and unseeing. He gasped for air and moaned constantly in pain. He was getting colder and clammier by the second. I wasn't even sure if he was aware of anything except the pain and evil tormenting him. Put all this together with the sliver of hope we had that he would survive, and you'll understand why I was always bawling.
After Strider and Sam left, I sat with Frodo and talked to him. With one hand, I squeezed his hand, as if I was trying to stop the cold from overcoming it. With the other, I ran my fingers through his curly hair and soothed him with gentle words. "Did you notice Old Bilbo's trolls, Frodo? Wouldn't he love to see them now. Remember when we were little and always wanted to go on an adventure like his?"
I began to sing, "'Our journey's keep going, like the brooks of our childhood: rising and flowing. No one is knowing, where we will end up around the bend, but unlike our journey's, brooks come to end.'" I stopped suddenly. A hole formed in my heart as the realization fell over me like a waterfall.
"Well, here we are, Frodo," I sniffed. "This is not what I imagined our adventures would be like though." I confessed and cried into his curls. "I don't want our journey to end like this." I whispered through tears.
Merry and Pippin came over and held me in their arms, comforting me. They wept along with me.
Pippin whispered into my curls, "It's okay to cry, Larky. You're not crying because you're weak. You're crying because you've been strong for too long."
Then Merry whispered, "I know I act like I don't care about you, sis, but I do. I admire your courage. You're the strongest person I know."
We sat there, holding each other until Strider and Sam came back...with a she-elf. What was she doing here?
She placed herself gracefully beside Frodo and sang to him in elvish in a soothing tone. He seemed to relax and catch his breath. His eyes became clearer. "We must take him to my father," she declared and saddled a horse.
Strider spoke to the elf in frantic elvish for a moment, and then with a disheartened expression on his face, he turned to me. "Arwen is going to take Frodo to Rivendell," he explained. "Now just let go of him, Larkspur," he said calmly.
A sudden protectiveness and sullenness grew inside me. "No!" I choked. "I'm not leaving him." I threw myself over Frodo's limp body, sobbing uncontrollably.
There was a humongous emptiness in my heart and stomach. It was as if a part of my heart and soul was being slowly torn away from the rest of me, but some of it was still clinging to the rest: like when you pull apart a piece of pizza: you have to untangle all the little strands of cheese.
"Larkspur," Strider reasoned with me. "This is the only way to save Frodo. Time has run out. He needs medicine now; otherwise he will become a wraith in a matter of hours. Arwen is a gentle elf, and her father is Lord Elrond. She will protect Frodo with her life. I promise you." Arwen smiled gently down at me.
I gave up. A wave of exhaustion swept over me as Strider gingerly picked up Frodo in his arms and set him on the horse. Frodo opened his eyes for a split second and stared straight into my soul with fear and pain.
My eyes grew wide with worry and longing. Then Arwen and Frodo bolted of down the path. I chased them foolishly and yelled after them, "Hold on, Frodo! Be strong!" I gazed after them until they vanished from sight, and I whispered, "I love you," Tears slid down my cheeks like a trickling stream and fell upon my lips so I could not only feel my hope and wishes, but I could even taste their bittersweet flavor on my tongue.
