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CHAPTER SEVEN -- A Nightmare into a Nightmare
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Frodo whimpered as he shifted in my lap. The hobbit's fever was running high, and I had been worrying that he wouldn't wake up. He'd been sleeping for an hour now, and I knew that he was troubled by nightmares and terror. He began to thrash then, flailing about with his tiny arms trying to stop whatever was happening to him. I was trying to cool his forehead and cheeks with the water to soothe him but he began to get violent, striking out. "Karkosh….hold him…"
I was surprised at the strength of the hobbit, and he cried out when he realized that the Orc was holding him. "Calm down Frodo…its only Karkosh." But that was no comfort, he trembled and shrank away. Finally, he was coherent again, and I bade the Orc to move away. He grunted and shuffled back to the corner. Frodo's eyes were wide open, bright and blue…he stared at me in fear…not recognizing who I was and scrambled away from me before I could stop him.
He huddled against the wall, blankets having been thrown aside. He stared at me in pain, misery and fear. Whatever he had been dreaming, the alchohol had not been enough to make him forget. He stumbled slightly, for still he was in its effects. He wrapped his arms around himself and sank to the cold stone floor. "D-don't touch me…" he begged. "I-- can't b-ear to be touched." he stared at me wild eyed.
The Orc was far less touched by the tiny creature and he leered at him. I rose, chains clinking in the dim light. I expect…that I certainly must have looked like an orc at first. Especially when one comes out of a nightmare where they are all around you, for I felt sure that was the hobbit's problem. I glared at Karkosh warningly and he sneered back at me. "Why fix it? Its beyond aid. Just stupid Shire scum. Use it, and leave it." the Orc's voice ground out. "It don't know anything."
"Because Master says to." I reminded him. I approached the cowering hobbit and held out my hand like one might to a frightened little dog. "Its alright Frodo." I crouched down . "I'm not going to hurt you." I cooed gently, rubbing my fingers together in a rythmatic gesture.
"Stay back!" The hobbit howled and looked around wildly for something…anything to defend himself with I supposed. He was rather a site to see…tousled curls falling into his eyes, wracked with pain from the weals that cut into his delicate skin and bruises…there were many of them. I frowned slightly, but then tried very hard to smile as best as I could. Sweat was trickling down from his hair and he was beginning to shiver violently again. I had to get him back into the blanket.
"Frodo." I soothed and cleared my throat…trying to bring a gentle quality to it. I began to speak a little in elvish...a tongue I had not spoken since the first year after I was captured. /Its alright/ I spoke quietly, softly, /I'm a friend, Frodo/ I assured him. /I will not harm you/.
Karkosh was staring at me, for I was speaking the 'forbiddon' tongue. I didn't care, who would believe him anyway, he was not high up in the chain, and Shagrat knew I had ceased to care.
Frodo stared at me suspiciously for a little while, breathing in short little gasps. His hand flew up to his neck and he trembled, remembering where he was and what was going on. From one nightmare to another. His shoulders sagged and he let me approach. He did not resist when I lifted him up in my arms and slowly carried him back to the blanket, wrapping him in it as well as the bartered cloak. He whimpered and kept his eyes open. I told Karkosh to make more of the brew as I worked at the sweat on his brow. "Merilas.." he swallowed and finally managed.
"Yes….Its alright Frodo. It was just a dream."
He shivered despite the warmth of the wrappings. "I…they…were…" he began to cry, burying his face into my lap once again.
I knew what he was talking about because I had born witness to torture in the past many times. Shagrat's way of…breaking me. He was always rather amused that my spirit held through it, for I would never let him see me cry. Even when they began to disfigure my face and body with ornaments to 'show who I belonged to', he put it. He also knew that it would make me less inclined to try and escape, for what part of Elvish Society would I fit into now? Ugly and misshapen….having born the years of service as a slave. My life with Shagrat was in fact better than it had when I was first captured. He at least claimed me as his own, and though I knew one day he would die and I would be given to another at least for some time…it was easier. If I could even call this easy. I did not hold out hope to be killed…or released. I simply lived. I survived in hell. It was all I really could do.
I spent a lot of years studying their Shamanistic ways, which had amused him. It did give me a bit of prestige over the other prisoners. I had proved my worth. I was a slave…there was a difference between a prisoner and a slave. Not much of one…but a difference nonetheless.
"Meri…please…tell me I dreamt that…that…" he blinked up at me and I saw the terrible agony in his eyes and my heart lurched a little. I wished I could…but I would be doing him no favors, he had to learn to deal with it if he was to survive. I had my doubts that he would though. He was too frail…and the fever was not helping.
"Drink." was my only response as tears sprang once again to his eyes when I did not tell him what he wanted to hear. "It will help the pain as it did before." I took the cup from Karkosh and coaxed it into his lips.
He complied weakly…there really wasn't anything he could do about it. He knew that we would force it into him one way or the other. /Can we escape? Please…help me out of here…/ he begged me gently, and to my surprise…he spoke elvish.
"No." I refused to reply in the same tongue, bringing more tears forward. He wanted comfort…not reality. "My place is here." As pathetic as that sounded, it was what I had come to accept.
His lips trembled as he looked at me, and I frowned a little for I saw something in his eyes I had not expected to see. He was pitying me. Our situations were so drastically different and yet…he felt sorry for me. For all the years I had been here. For what I had come to. He cared. He truly did. I looked down at him for a while trying to sort out my feelings. Was there anything I *could* do?
"I'm sorry Frodo." I shook my head, and laid my hand against his forehead. "There's nothing I can do."
He turned away then, gazing at the darkness.
CHAPTER SEVEN -- A Nightmare into a Nightmare
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Frodo whimpered as he shifted in my lap. The hobbit's fever was running high, and I had been worrying that he wouldn't wake up. He'd been sleeping for an hour now, and I knew that he was troubled by nightmares and terror. He began to thrash then, flailing about with his tiny arms trying to stop whatever was happening to him. I was trying to cool his forehead and cheeks with the water to soothe him but he began to get violent, striking out. "Karkosh….hold him…"
I was surprised at the strength of the hobbit, and he cried out when he realized that the Orc was holding him. "Calm down Frodo…its only Karkosh." But that was no comfort, he trembled and shrank away. Finally, he was coherent again, and I bade the Orc to move away. He grunted and shuffled back to the corner. Frodo's eyes were wide open, bright and blue…he stared at me in fear…not recognizing who I was and scrambled away from me before I could stop him.
He huddled against the wall, blankets having been thrown aside. He stared at me in pain, misery and fear. Whatever he had been dreaming, the alchohol had not been enough to make him forget. He stumbled slightly, for still he was in its effects. He wrapped his arms around himself and sank to the cold stone floor. "D-don't touch me…" he begged. "I-- can't b-ear to be touched." he stared at me wild eyed.
The Orc was far less touched by the tiny creature and he leered at him. I rose, chains clinking in the dim light. I expect…that I certainly must have looked like an orc at first. Especially when one comes out of a nightmare where they are all around you, for I felt sure that was the hobbit's problem. I glared at Karkosh warningly and he sneered back at me. "Why fix it? Its beyond aid. Just stupid Shire scum. Use it, and leave it." the Orc's voice ground out. "It don't know anything."
"Because Master says to." I reminded him. I approached the cowering hobbit and held out my hand like one might to a frightened little dog. "Its alright Frodo." I crouched down . "I'm not going to hurt you." I cooed gently, rubbing my fingers together in a rythmatic gesture.
"Stay back!" The hobbit howled and looked around wildly for something…anything to defend himself with I supposed. He was rather a site to see…tousled curls falling into his eyes, wracked with pain from the weals that cut into his delicate skin and bruises…there were many of them. I frowned slightly, but then tried very hard to smile as best as I could. Sweat was trickling down from his hair and he was beginning to shiver violently again. I had to get him back into the blanket.
"Frodo." I soothed and cleared my throat…trying to bring a gentle quality to it. I began to speak a little in elvish...a tongue I had not spoken since the first year after I was captured. /Its alright/ I spoke quietly, softly, /I'm a friend, Frodo/ I assured him. /I will not harm you/.
Karkosh was staring at me, for I was speaking the 'forbiddon' tongue. I didn't care, who would believe him anyway, he was not high up in the chain, and Shagrat knew I had ceased to care.
Frodo stared at me suspiciously for a little while, breathing in short little gasps. His hand flew up to his neck and he trembled, remembering where he was and what was going on. From one nightmare to another. His shoulders sagged and he let me approach. He did not resist when I lifted him up in my arms and slowly carried him back to the blanket, wrapping him in it as well as the bartered cloak. He whimpered and kept his eyes open. I told Karkosh to make more of the brew as I worked at the sweat on his brow. "Merilas.." he swallowed and finally managed.
"Yes….Its alright Frodo. It was just a dream."
He shivered despite the warmth of the wrappings. "I…they…were…" he began to cry, burying his face into my lap once again.
I knew what he was talking about because I had born witness to torture in the past many times. Shagrat's way of…breaking me. He was always rather amused that my spirit held through it, for I would never let him see me cry. Even when they began to disfigure my face and body with ornaments to 'show who I belonged to', he put it. He also knew that it would make me less inclined to try and escape, for what part of Elvish Society would I fit into now? Ugly and misshapen….having born the years of service as a slave. My life with Shagrat was in fact better than it had when I was first captured. He at least claimed me as his own, and though I knew one day he would die and I would be given to another at least for some time…it was easier. If I could even call this easy. I did not hold out hope to be killed…or released. I simply lived. I survived in hell. It was all I really could do.
I spent a lot of years studying their Shamanistic ways, which had amused him. It did give me a bit of prestige over the other prisoners. I had proved my worth. I was a slave…there was a difference between a prisoner and a slave. Not much of one…but a difference nonetheless.
"Meri…please…tell me I dreamt that…that…" he blinked up at me and I saw the terrible agony in his eyes and my heart lurched a little. I wished I could…but I would be doing him no favors, he had to learn to deal with it if he was to survive. I had my doubts that he would though. He was too frail…and the fever was not helping.
"Drink." was my only response as tears sprang once again to his eyes when I did not tell him what he wanted to hear. "It will help the pain as it did before." I took the cup from Karkosh and coaxed it into his lips.
He complied weakly…there really wasn't anything he could do about it. He knew that we would force it into him one way or the other. /Can we escape? Please…help me out of here…/ he begged me gently, and to my surprise…he spoke elvish.
"No." I refused to reply in the same tongue, bringing more tears forward. He wanted comfort…not reality. "My place is here." As pathetic as that sounded, it was what I had come to accept.
His lips trembled as he looked at me, and I frowned a little for I saw something in his eyes I had not expected to see. He was pitying me. Our situations were so drastically different and yet…he felt sorry for me. For all the years I had been here. For what I had come to. He cared. He truly did. I looked down at him for a while trying to sort out my feelings. Was there anything I *could* do?
"I'm sorry Frodo." I shook my head, and laid my hand against his forehead. "There's nothing I can do."
He turned away then, gazing at the darkness.