Author's Notes: The countdown begins. . .Chapter 17 should go up some time
Sunday, April 21, and expect to have Chapter 18 (or Chapters 18-20, not
certain yet of the number before the ending) posted within the next couple
of days. :) However, before the final chapter or two are posted, I will
be posting more from "Caradhras" as well as the opening chapters from a new
fic: those who have read "Mithril" may recall Frodo's memories of Bilbo
nursing him through a bad bout of bronchitis during his tween years, and
that will begin in just another day or two; I've been working on it. :)
Another Caradhras-setting piece will begin ere long as well, though for the
next several days I'm likely to concentrate my efforts into these two or
three. Thanks for your patience! :)
Yes, Frodo's nightmares come predominantly from the book, though at least two are movie-compatible.
Curu Ithilin - answer to your question accompanying Chapter 17, I promise. :)
Still attempting to get FrodoHealers setup moved for the younger group: I'm trying, I promise!
As always, thank you all so very much for reading and reviewing!
For permission to reproduce, please contact frodobaggins@frodo.com
DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns.
SHADOWS IN THE DARKNESS
Chapter Sixteen: Riddles in the Dark - The Nightmare
"Frodo - "
Primula's voice. He smiled, hurrying through the thick fog towards it. . .yet it seemed to move, to change locations, first before him, then behind, then beside. . . .
The sound of her laughter, beloved mirthful peal like the sound of raindrops in puddles.
"Frodo - "
Bilbo's voice this time. . .and ahead of him again. . . .
Confused, Frodo pressed on, noting with increasing anxiety that the forest seemed strange: it was dark and cold, and he felt uncertain of where the cherished voice was leading. Suddenly the ground seemed to open up, pulling him in. . .and he found himself enclosed in what could only be a tomb. . . .
He gasped, and woke suddenly to find himself lying in bed. . .but such a strange bed it was, not like his cosy feather-bed at Bag End, just the right size, or even his child's bed at Brandy Hall. . .it was enormous, like a bed made for Big Folk. . . . His night-shirt seemed huge as well; it hung over his prone form almost like another blanket.
And he was in pain. So much pain. . .his shoulder ached, and he felt frozen through with cold.
Someone murmured something he could not understand, and gentle hands pressed a cup of warm drink to his lips, the fragrance strange and unfamiliar. A damp cloth patted his brow, wiping his face. . . .
Bilbo. . .he wanted Bilbo. . . . He tried to speak, but it was too much effort, and he sank back with nothing more than a hoarse whisper at his lips.
And suddenly Bilbo was there. . .but it was different: Frodo found himself no longer in bed, but standing beside his guardian, who looked much older. Bilbo seemed to have aged a hundred years, from the look of it. . .and yet his voice was spry as ever as he urged Frodo to take what he held in his hands: Sting, his small sword. In awe, Frodo put out his hands, taking it reverently.
Then Bilbo pressed him again, wordlessly, urging him to try on the mithril- coat. . .Frodo could hardly believe it; when he was smaller, Bilbo had taken him to Michael Delving to see it on display in the Mathom-House. They had stayed at an inn, and Bilbo had let him have lots of mushrooms for supper and extra pastries at tea: the coat had been only one highlight of the visit for the then-recently-orphaned hobbit. Frodo could not think why Bilbo would be so anxious that he wear it. . . .
But something more was different. . .Bilbo's expression changed, his eyes widening hungrily as Frodo began to open his shirt: his gaze was directed at a chain about the younger hobbit's neck, a chain which, to Frodo's astonishment, bore Bilbo's ring. . . .
He felt sick, but could do nothing. . .it was like watching a play onstage, only unable to intervene. . . .
And suddenly Bilbo seemed to grope at him: in a flash, the elder hobbit was. . .something else. . .a grasping, hideous creature, a monster worse than even the Gollum creature of his tales. . .and Frodo felt certain it would choke him, kill him and take the ring. . . . He pulled away, hand up as if to strike. . . .
"Frodo! Frodo, my boy. . .wake up. . .it's only a bad dream. . . ."
Sobbing, Frodo opened his eyes. . .to find Bilbo sitting on the bed beside him, patting his shoulders anxiously. . .but the feeling overwhelmed him, and he pulled away in terror, curling into a ball in the bedclothes as he tried to move away. . . .
"Frodo. . .what's wrong, lad? It's only me. . .I promise I'm not going to hurt you. . . ."
Frodo shook his head, trembling. He felt cold and sick, and yet drenched in sweat, but worst of all was the sudden sense of being utterly alone again. The thought brought on an abrupt need to throw up again, but he managed with difficulty to keep his stomach-contents firmly in place.
"Let me take him, Bilbo. . .bring the boy a bite to eat, something simple, and I'll be sure he gets it down while you rest."
The voice was Gandalf's. . .and Frodo recognised the large hands that promptly closed over his back, gathering him into long arms warm with the familiar scent of pipeweed and firework powder. With relief he turned, burying his face in the wizard's robes, crying in the warm folds of cloth. He could hear Bilbo's distraught, anxious voice, but felt unable to respond. . . .
"What's the matter? He was having a nightmare; I tried to help him wake, and he - he won't let me near him - "
"You've said it yourself, Bilbo, and so has the doctor. Children get fussy when they're ill, especially with a fever." Gandalf's sat down in the rocking-chair, causing it to creak a bit in protest, still cradling Frodo in his arms. Patting the lad's back, he alternates the gesture with light rubbing, shushing the small tweenager softly. "I'll try and get some of that soup down him, and whatever else. You should rest."
A "Hmmph," from Bilbo indicated disconcertain, but he merely touched Frodo's curls gingerly, sighing.
"I'll be back shortly, my boy. . .be good for Gandalf, and. . .I'll try not to upset you so again. . . ."
Turning his face back to Gandalf's robes, Frodo managed only a weak nod, trembling as he sobbed, the wizard rocking him quietly back and forth in the early evening light of sunset.
~To Be Continued~
Yes, Frodo's nightmares come predominantly from the book, though at least two are movie-compatible.
Curu Ithilin - answer to your question accompanying Chapter 17, I promise. :)
Still attempting to get FrodoHealers setup moved for the younger group: I'm trying, I promise!
As always, thank you all so very much for reading and reviewing!
For permission to reproduce, please contact frodobaggins@frodo.com
DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns.
SHADOWS IN THE DARKNESS
Chapter Sixteen: Riddles in the Dark - The Nightmare
"Frodo - "
Primula's voice. He smiled, hurrying through the thick fog towards it. . .yet it seemed to move, to change locations, first before him, then behind, then beside. . . .
The sound of her laughter, beloved mirthful peal like the sound of raindrops in puddles.
"Frodo - "
Bilbo's voice this time. . .and ahead of him again. . . .
Confused, Frodo pressed on, noting with increasing anxiety that the forest seemed strange: it was dark and cold, and he felt uncertain of where the cherished voice was leading. Suddenly the ground seemed to open up, pulling him in. . .and he found himself enclosed in what could only be a tomb. . . .
He gasped, and woke suddenly to find himself lying in bed. . .but such a strange bed it was, not like his cosy feather-bed at Bag End, just the right size, or even his child's bed at Brandy Hall. . .it was enormous, like a bed made for Big Folk. . . . His night-shirt seemed huge as well; it hung over his prone form almost like another blanket.
And he was in pain. So much pain. . .his shoulder ached, and he felt frozen through with cold.
Someone murmured something he could not understand, and gentle hands pressed a cup of warm drink to his lips, the fragrance strange and unfamiliar. A damp cloth patted his brow, wiping his face. . . .
Bilbo. . .he wanted Bilbo. . . . He tried to speak, but it was too much effort, and he sank back with nothing more than a hoarse whisper at his lips.
And suddenly Bilbo was there. . .but it was different: Frodo found himself no longer in bed, but standing beside his guardian, who looked much older. Bilbo seemed to have aged a hundred years, from the look of it. . .and yet his voice was spry as ever as he urged Frodo to take what he held in his hands: Sting, his small sword. In awe, Frodo put out his hands, taking it reverently.
Then Bilbo pressed him again, wordlessly, urging him to try on the mithril- coat. . .Frodo could hardly believe it; when he was smaller, Bilbo had taken him to Michael Delving to see it on display in the Mathom-House. They had stayed at an inn, and Bilbo had let him have lots of mushrooms for supper and extra pastries at tea: the coat had been only one highlight of the visit for the then-recently-orphaned hobbit. Frodo could not think why Bilbo would be so anxious that he wear it. . . .
But something more was different. . .Bilbo's expression changed, his eyes widening hungrily as Frodo began to open his shirt: his gaze was directed at a chain about the younger hobbit's neck, a chain which, to Frodo's astonishment, bore Bilbo's ring. . . .
He felt sick, but could do nothing. . .it was like watching a play onstage, only unable to intervene. . . .
And suddenly Bilbo seemed to grope at him: in a flash, the elder hobbit was. . .something else. . .a grasping, hideous creature, a monster worse than even the Gollum creature of his tales. . .and Frodo felt certain it would choke him, kill him and take the ring. . . . He pulled away, hand up as if to strike. . . .
"Frodo! Frodo, my boy. . .wake up. . .it's only a bad dream. . . ."
Sobbing, Frodo opened his eyes. . .to find Bilbo sitting on the bed beside him, patting his shoulders anxiously. . .but the feeling overwhelmed him, and he pulled away in terror, curling into a ball in the bedclothes as he tried to move away. . . .
"Frodo. . .what's wrong, lad? It's only me. . .I promise I'm not going to hurt you. . . ."
Frodo shook his head, trembling. He felt cold and sick, and yet drenched in sweat, but worst of all was the sudden sense of being utterly alone again. The thought brought on an abrupt need to throw up again, but he managed with difficulty to keep his stomach-contents firmly in place.
"Let me take him, Bilbo. . .bring the boy a bite to eat, something simple, and I'll be sure he gets it down while you rest."
The voice was Gandalf's. . .and Frodo recognised the large hands that promptly closed over his back, gathering him into long arms warm with the familiar scent of pipeweed and firework powder. With relief he turned, burying his face in the wizard's robes, crying in the warm folds of cloth. He could hear Bilbo's distraught, anxious voice, but felt unable to respond. . . .
"What's the matter? He was having a nightmare; I tried to help him wake, and he - he won't let me near him - "
"You've said it yourself, Bilbo, and so has the doctor. Children get fussy when they're ill, especially with a fever." Gandalf's sat down in the rocking-chair, causing it to creak a bit in protest, still cradling Frodo in his arms. Patting the lad's back, he alternates the gesture with light rubbing, shushing the small tweenager softly. "I'll try and get some of that soup down him, and whatever else. You should rest."
A "Hmmph," from Bilbo indicated disconcertain, but he merely touched Frodo's curls gingerly, sighing.
"I'll be back shortly, my boy. . .be good for Gandalf, and. . .I'll try not to upset you so again. . . ."
Turning his face back to Gandalf's robes, Frodo managed only a weak nod, trembling as he sobbed, the wizard rocking him quietly back and forth in the early evening light of sunset.
~To Be Continued~