NOTE: Thanks to Talking Hawk for giving me some valuable suggestions for
this chapter.
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.
_________________________________
WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON
Chapter 4 --- Siren Song
Aragorn had planned to run as quickly as he could, but within a few feet realized he couldn't see where he was going. With his left hand he pressed an edge of his cloak up to his face to help keep out the smoke, and he groped in front of him with his right hand, unable to see more than a few feet ahead. This was no ordinary fire, but he couldn't afford to think about it yet. He heard Frodo starting to cough, and he tried to go faster. It was almost as if something was slowing him down, keeping him from getting Frodo to safety. He fought his way forward with all his strength.
Frodo felt heat all around him, and he kept his eyes tightly shut. When he couldn't hold his breath any longer he took a deep gasp of smoke-filled air and started coughing. He tried to focus on holding on, holding on tight. He felt Aragorn stumble and almost fall, but he righted himself and kept going.
Suddenly, to his horror, Frodo saw the firey letters from the Ring blazing in front of his closed eyes. He hadn't seen the ancient lettering since that morning in the Shire when Gandalf had thrown the Ring into his small fire in Bag End. He felt an urge to run back to the meadow, to take the Ring and run. It was almost overwhelming. No, he thought desperately, leave me alone. He shook his head and moaned, everything starting to spin around him.
Aragorn felt Frodo start to lose his grip on his tunic, and just in time he grabbed the small hands and held them tightly against him. They had to be almost there...suddenly he felt hands reach out from in front of him and grab his cloak. He was pulled forward. The air grew cool and clear once again, and he stumbled to his knees into Legolas' arms at the top of the same slope Frodo had first dashed up. Somebody pulled Frodo off him and he felt the cold wind in his face. A water bottle was held to his mouth, and he gulped down as much water as he could handle.
With his eyes still tightly closed, Frodo felt the cool air surround him as Aragorn sank to the ground. Someone grabbed him. Confused by the vision of the Ring still before him, he fought to get away. "You can't have it!" he yelled. "Hold him, Gimli. Frodo, it's Legolas. You're safe." Frodo felt cool hands pressed to his face and tried to focus on the soft voice. "You're safe, Frodo. Don't fight. Open your eyes, little one." The vision of the Ring slowly faded and disappeared. Frodo opened his eyes and looked around, coughing. He was on the ground, in Gimli's arms. Legolas pressed a water bottle to his mouth and he drank thirstily, the icy water soothing his throat before a fresh bout of coughing shook his small body.
"Easy, Frodo." Aragorn knelt next to him. "Drink more, that's it. Don't try to talk." Frodo suddenly felt panic welling up again. "I won't listen! You can't have it!" He looked around wildly, then sagged against Gimli. "So tired," he whispered, his eyelids fluttering closed. Aragorn turned to Legolas. "We have to get him away from here." At that moment the first cold, wet drops of rain began to fall. The Elf pulled Frodo out of Gimli's lap and carried him down the slope, while Aragorn followed slowly with his hand on Gimli's shoulder for support. He felt exhausted, drained.
When Sam saw Legolas returning with Frodo in his arms, he broke away from Boromir and raced to meet him. "Over here, Legolas." Sam led him to a blanket spread out under a tree. Legolas put Frodo down and sat down next to him, giving him more water and speaking in a soft, soothing voice. Sam joined them and pulled a waterproof cover around them to keep out the rain. Aragorn sank down a few feet away, and Pippin and Merry sat down next to him and huddled under covers of their own. The rest of the company did the same nearby.
Merry looked up at Aragorn's soot-streaked face. "What happened up there, Strider? We heard a frightful noise and saw smoke."
Frodo had stopped coughing, but he was leaning against Sam feeling weak and confused. Sam's hand, holding his, felt so wonderfully solid, so real. It helped him to focus. Frodo looked into his friend's worried eyes. "I'm all right," he whispered.
Before Aragorn could answer Merry's question, Pippin looked up at him. Aragorn was rubbing his eyes, which were irritated from the smoke and heat. "Strider, can I get something out of your pack?" Aragorn immediately thought of a dozen reasons why this was a bad idea, but the question was so odd he found himself nodding. Pippin raced over to the pile of packs, unlacing Aragorn's and pulling out a length of cloth. He grabbed a full water bottle and was back underneath the cover before he got too wet. Pippin folded the cloth a few times, soaked it in the water, and held it up to Aragorn. "Here. Hold this over your eyes, it'll make them feel better."
"Thank you, Pippin." Aragorn smiled at him, pressing the cold, wet cloth to his eyes with relief. "That feels better. Legolas, how is Frodo?" he asked.
"He's coming out of it, whatever *it* is," the Elf said. "I don't think he quite knew where he was for a minute. By the looks of the two of you, you were fighting more than smoke up there."
It had rained hard for only 15 minutes or so when the drops suddenly stopped altogether. Boromir frowned. "That was a very strange storm. At least it probably put the fire out."
"You have no idea how strange it was, Boromir," said Aragorn. "Frodo, can you tell us what happened to you?"
"I saw Gandalf," said Frodo with a sigh. His throat hurt, and his voice was barely above a whisper. Everyone strained to hear him. "Everything else disappeared. Aragorn says he was calling for me, but I didn't hear him. I didn't hear anything. The next thing I knew I was on the ground and Aragorn was shaking me. Gandalf was gone. Then the lightning set the meadow on fire. It was terrifying." Frodo paused to drink more water. "Aragorn knew we had to get out of there, he picked me up and ran. That's when I felt...it was like...." He tried hard to remember. "It was like something was calling me back, to run back through the fire. Someone wanted the Ring, wanted me to bring it to them. It was so strong I could hardly bear it."
"There *was* something strong at work there," agreed Aragorn. "Every step I took seemed like I was stumbling through thick mud, fighting against some obstacle. I wasn't sure we would get out of that smoke."
"It seemed like hours." said Frodo. "I fought so hard, got so tired. Then I heard... I thought I heard Sam's voice. Talking about the dragons." Sam looked at him, startled, as Frodo squeezed his hand tighter. "Sam said not to listen to dragons. Something..something happened then. It was like waking slowly from a nightmare." He looked at Aragorn gratefully. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come after me. I'm not even sure what *did* happen." He leaned his head against Sam's shoulder, suddenly feeling very sleepy.
"I have a guess," said Aragorn quietly. "It's odd, though..Boromir, how far are we from Isengard?"
Boromir started to answer, then grinned. "Ask Merry," he said.
"What? Why?" Aragorn looked at Boromir, then at Merry, who was groaning with embarrassment. "Merry?"
"Boromir," Merry sighed. "Very well. Gosh it's a long way, Strider. Maybe 300 miles.." he pointed precisely southwest. "That way. Past the Entwash and..." Merry stopped, confused by the amazed faces around him. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Aragorn said with a smile. He looked down at Pippin, who was pouring more cold water on the cloth for his eyes. "Hobbits just never cease to amaze, that's all."
"Aragorn," said Gimli with a frown, "Are you saying that Saruman is behind this?"
"It seems the most likely explanation." said the Ranger. "Phantom wizards and freak storms --- like that blizzard at the Redhorn Pass --- and it's almost as if someone was trying to ensnare Frodo in some type of spell. He didn't feel an urge to put on the Ring, but to bring it to someone. None of us know what Saruman looks like, we just know what he *is* like. And he wants the Ring." He looked at Sam with a smile. "Wizard or no, he is likely just learning of the resilience and strength of hobbits. Frodo and Sam together are an enemy the likes of which he has no doubt never encountered." Sam blushed.
Aragorn got up, feeling rested. "Sam, try to keep Frodo awake, I want to check his throat for any swelling. Gimli, can you find some dry wood for a fire? I'd like to make something for Frodo's sore throat and we need to dry out. If that fire on the meadow didn't draw any unwelcome attention, a small one down here certainly won't make things any worse. We'll put it out before it gets fully dark."
"I'll go with you!" Pippin leaped up and followed after Gimli.
Boromir sighed. "That youngster has so much energy he makes me dizzy."
"It's hard for him to sit still all day in the boat," Merry said. He grinned. "He's never endured a worse torture!" He got up to dig out some food.
"I hope he never has to," Boromir whispered to himself.
*****************
Boromir lay sleepless long after the camp was quiet, unable to get Merry's offhand jest about torture out of his mind. He realized how fond he had become of these little ones, how unthinkable it was that anything should... Surely there were better ways to protect them than this hopeless journey south to destroy the one thing that could...
Frodo lay nearby in an exhausted sleep, nearly buried in a pile of hobbits. All three had decided that if anything came after Frodo in the night it would have to go through all of them.
It seemed to Boromir that there was very little in Middle-earth not stalking their tiny Ringbearer. Even the weather itself. Frodo should not have to bear this alone, such a fragile, innocent creature. Sauron was after the Ring. Saruman as well. That creature Gollum. They mustn't get it. Why was everyone so afraid to wield it?
Boromir had seen the look Frodo gave Aragorn, that grateful, almost worshipful look. If Aragorn chose not to come to Minas Tirith, Boromir now knew beyond doubt that Frodo would not come either. He and the rest would follow Aragorn to almost certain capture, or death in the firey chasms of Mount Doom. And now Frodo would be more closely watched than ever. Aragorn would not let him out of his sight again.
Yet I need to speak to Frodo alone, somehow. Surely he must grow weary of this burden. Surely I can make him understand that there are other paths open to him. It is he who puts the others in danger. How can I protect them when he makes such a choice? This cannot be permitted to continue.
** TBC **
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.
_________________________________
WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON
Chapter 4 --- Siren Song
Aragorn had planned to run as quickly as he could, but within a few feet realized he couldn't see where he was going. With his left hand he pressed an edge of his cloak up to his face to help keep out the smoke, and he groped in front of him with his right hand, unable to see more than a few feet ahead. This was no ordinary fire, but he couldn't afford to think about it yet. He heard Frodo starting to cough, and he tried to go faster. It was almost as if something was slowing him down, keeping him from getting Frodo to safety. He fought his way forward with all his strength.
Frodo felt heat all around him, and he kept his eyes tightly shut. When he couldn't hold his breath any longer he took a deep gasp of smoke-filled air and started coughing. He tried to focus on holding on, holding on tight. He felt Aragorn stumble and almost fall, but he righted himself and kept going.
Suddenly, to his horror, Frodo saw the firey letters from the Ring blazing in front of his closed eyes. He hadn't seen the ancient lettering since that morning in the Shire when Gandalf had thrown the Ring into his small fire in Bag End. He felt an urge to run back to the meadow, to take the Ring and run. It was almost overwhelming. No, he thought desperately, leave me alone. He shook his head and moaned, everything starting to spin around him.
Aragorn felt Frodo start to lose his grip on his tunic, and just in time he grabbed the small hands and held them tightly against him. They had to be almost there...suddenly he felt hands reach out from in front of him and grab his cloak. He was pulled forward. The air grew cool and clear once again, and he stumbled to his knees into Legolas' arms at the top of the same slope Frodo had first dashed up. Somebody pulled Frodo off him and he felt the cold wind in his face. A water bottle was held to his mouth, and he gulped down as much water as he could handle.
With his eyes still tightly closed, Frodo felt the cool air surround him as Aragorn sank to the ground. Someone grabbed him. Confused by the vision of the Ring still before him, he fought to get away. "You can't have it!" he yelled. "Hold him, Gimli. Frodo, it's Legolas. You're safe." Frodo felt cool hands pressed to his face and tried to focus on the soft voice. "You're safe, Frodo. Don't fight. Open your eyes, little one." The vision of the Ring slowly faded and disappeared. Frodo opened his eyes and looked around, coughing. He was on the ground, in Gimli's arms. Legolas pressed a water bottle to his mouth and he drank thirstily, the icy water soothing his throat before a fresh bout of coughing shook his small body.
"Easy, Frodo." Aragorn knelt next to him. "Drink more, that's it. Don't try to talk." Frodo suddenly felt panic welling up again. "I won't listen! You can't have it!" He looked around wildly, then sagged against Gimli. "So tired," he whispered, his eyelids fluttering closed. Aragorn turned to Legolas. "We have to get him away from here." At that moment the first cold, wet drops of rain began to fall. The Elf pulled Frodo out of Gimli's lap and carried him down the slope, while Aragorn followed slowly with his hand on Gimli's shoulder for support. He felt exhausted, drained.
When Sam saw Legolas returning with Frodo in his arms, he broke away from Boromir and raced to meet him. "Over here, Legolas." Sam led him to a blanket spread out under a tree. Legolas put Frodo down and sat down next to him, giving him more water and speaking in a soft, soothing voice. Sam joined them and pulled a waterproof cover around them to keep out the rain. Aragorn sank down a few feet away, and Pippin and Merry sat down next to him and huddled under covers of their own. The rest of the company did the same nearby.
Merry looked up at Aragorn's soot-streaked face. "What happened up there, Strider? We heard a frightful noise and saw smoke."
Frodo had stopped coughing, but he was leaning against Sam feeling weak and confused. Sam's hand, holding his, felt so wonderfully solid, so real. It helped him to focus. Frodo looked into his friend's worried eyes. "I'm all right," he whispered.
Before Aragorn could answer Merry's question, Pippin looked up at him. Aragorn was rubbing his eyes, which were irritated from the smoke and heat. "Strider, can I get something out of your pack?" Aragorn immediately thought of a dozen reasons why this was a bad idea, but the question was so odd he found himself nodding. Pippin raced over to the pile of packs, unlacing Aragorn's and pulling out a length of cloth. He grabbed a full water bottle and was back underneath the cover before he got too wet. Pippin folded the cloth a few times, soaked it in the water, and held it up to Aragorn. "Here. Hold this over your eyes, it'll make them feel better."
"Thank you, Pippin." Aragorn smiled at him, pressing the cold, wet cloth to his eyes with relief. "That feels better. Legolas, how is Frodo?" he asked.
"He's coming out of it, whatever *it* is," the Elf said. "I don't think he quite knew where he was for a minute. By the looks of the two of you, you were fighting more than smoke up there."
It had rained hard for only 15 minutes or so when the drops suddenly stopped altogether. Boromir frowned. "That was a very strange storm. At least it probably put the fire out."
"You have no idea how strange it was, Boromir," said Aragorn. "Frodo, can you tell us what happened to you?"
"I saw Gandalf," said Frodo with a sigh. His throat hurt, and his voice was barely above a whisper. Everyone strained to hear him. "Everything else disappeared. Aragorn says he was calling for me, but I didn't hear him. I didn't hear anything. The next thing I knew I was on the ground and Aragorn was shaking me. Gandalf was gone. Then the lightning set the meadow on fire. It was terrifying." Frodo paused to drink more water. "Aragorn knew we had to get out of there, he picked me up and ran. That's when I felt...it was like...." He tried hard to remember. "It was like something was calling me back, to run back through the fire. Someone wanted the Ring, wanted me to bring it to them. It was so strong I could hardly bear it."
"There *was* something strong at work there," agreed Aragorn. "Every step I took seemed like I was stumbling through thick mud, fighting against some obstacle. I wasn't sure we would get out of that smoke."
"It seemed like hours." said Frodo. "I fought so hard, got so tired. Then I heard... I thought I heard Sam's voice. Talking about the dragons." Sam looked at him, startled, as Frodo squeezed his hand tighter. "Sam said not to listen to dragons. Something..something happened then. It was like waking slowly from a nightmare." He looked at Aragorn gratefully. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come after me. I'm not even sure what *did* happen." He leaned his head against Sam's shoulder, suddenly feeling very sleepy.
"I have a guess," said Aragorn quietly. "It's odd, though..Boromir, how far are we from Isengard?"
Boromir started to answer, then grinned. "Ask Merry," he said.
"What? Why?" Aragorn looked at Boromir, then at Merry, who was groaning with embarrassment. "Merry?"
"Boromir," Merry sighed. "Very well. Gosh it's a long way, Strider. Maybe 300 miles.." he pointed precisely southwest. "That way. Past the Entwash and..." Merry stopped, confused by the amazed faces around him. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Aragorn said with a smile. He looked down at Pippin, who was pouring more cold water on the cloth for his eyes. "Hobbits just never cease to amaze, that's all."
"Aragorn," said Gimli with a frown, "Are you saying that Saruman is behind this?"
"It seems the most likely explanation." said the Ranger. "Phantom wizards and freak storms --- like that blizzard at the Redhorn Pass --- and it's almost as if someone was trying to ensnare Frodo in some type of spell. He didn't feel an urge to put on the Ring, but to bring it to someone. None of us know what Saruman looks like, we just know what he *is* like. And he wants the Ring." He looked at Sam with a smile. "Wizard or no, he is likely just learning of the resilience and strength of hobbits. Frodo and Sam together are an enemy the likes of which he has no doubt never encountered." Sam blushed.
Aragorn got up, feeling rested. "Sam, try to keep Frodo awake, I want to check his throat for any swelling. Gimli, can you find some dry wood for a fire? I'd like to make something for Frodo's sore throat and we need to dry out. If that fire on the meadow didn't draw any unwelcome attention, a small one down here certainly won't make things any worse. We'll put it out before it gets fully dark."
"I'll go with you!" Pippin leaped up and followed after Gimli.
Boromir sighed. "That youngster has so much energy he makes me dizzy."
"It's hard for him to sit still all day in the boat," Merry said. He grinned. "He's never endured a worse torture!" He got up to dig out some food.
"I hope he never has to," Boromir whispered to himself.
*****************
Boromir lay sleepless long after the camp was quiet, unable to get Merry's offhand jest about torture out of his mind. He realized how fond he had become of these little ones, how unthinkable it was that anything should... Surely there were better ways to protect them than this hopeless journey south to destroy the one thing that could...
Frodo lay nearby in an exhausted sleep, nearly buried in a pile of hobbits. All three had decided that if anything came after Frodo in the night it would have to go through all of them.
It seemed to Boromir that there was very little in Middle-earth not stalking their tiny Ringbearer. Even the weather itself. Frodo should not have to bear this alone, such a fragile, innocent creature. Sauron was after the Ring. Saruman as well. That creature Gollum. They mustn't get it. Why was everyone so afraid to wield it?
Boromir had seen the look Frodo gave Aragorn, that grateful, almost worshipful look. If Aragorn chose not to come to Minas Tirith, Boromir now knew beyond doubt that Frodo would not come either. He and the rest would follow Aragorn to almost certain capture, or death in the firey chasms of Mount Doom. And now Frodo would be more closely watched than ever. Aragorn would not let him out of his sight again.
Yet I need to speak to Frodo alone, somehow. Surely he must grow weary of this burden. Surely I can make him understand that there are other paths open to him. It is he who puts the others in danger. How can I protect them when he makes such a choice? This cannot be permitted to continue.
** TBC **