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CHAPTER NINE -- Enduring
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Frodo still held my hand, he was beginning to sweat a little more. The fever was not letting go of him. He had been swinging between talking a lot and then bouts of grim silence. At the moment, all he was doing was lying curled up next to me, his eyes wide open and his hand clutching mine. I could understand what he was going through…I had been through it. He shivered, his eyes held a depth to them that seemed to go on forever. I could tell he was struggling with his senses. "Please…" he managed as I pressed semi-cool water against his lip. "More to drink…I'm…so thirsty…"
"Not yet, Frodo. You can't have too much of that stuff. It'll make you sick." I filled a little cup of water and tried to put it to his lips but he knocked it away.
"No water…" he gasped. "I need…need the drink…please…it hurts…"
I managed to save the water from spilling out of the cup and frowned at him for a moment. He clutched my hand desperately. He wanted to stay drunk, I could tell. He looked up at me with those terribly wide flashing eyes. He was having trouble controlling his emotions, that was not surprising. Anger and desperation were rising in him, I knew it was not something that he was used to. He seemed the type to bottle things up.
I tried to put the water in him again but he shook his head, refusing. He glared at me, and I was rather taken aback by the dark scowl. After the past several hours…I hadn't really expected to find a backbone on the tiny creature.
Well. If he wanted to have a tantrum…this certainly wasn't the time or the place. "Frodo." I said firmly. "If you want another piece of candy, or more of the dragonsblood…you need to finish a cup of water. You must drink something other than the liquor. " I felt like I was talking to a small child, but I knew he had to be fairly old. He didn't -look- more than 30. In fact…it was difficult to place his age at all. My voice was perhaps harsher than it could have been. I wasn't really all that used to being gentle.
He looked like he was about to cry again when I wouldn't comply. He shivered again. His mood was swinging from one end to the other due to the effects of being drunk. Where he had been terribly angry just a moment ago, he now sniffled and looked incredibly pathetic. He was trying hard to keep back tears. "It hurts…" he whined. "Please."
I took the opportunity of an open mouth to force down some of the water. No…I wasn't going to let him spit it out, I kept one hand close around his lips. It obviously hurt…for my thumb was pressing against the bruise on his jaw. "Swallow it." I commanded. "You're not doing yourself any favors, Frodo. You -need- this in your system. Accept it." I wasn't really trying to hurt him, it was just that there was no part of his body that I could touch and -not- cause him pain.
His eyes flashed at me again, the same echo of a backbone that had been there before was now returning. Good…if it gave him strength, I had to use it, had to keep it there. I matched his glare with one of equal strength. Finally he swallowed and I let go of his jaw. He gasped for breath, staring at me.
We both had lot to be mad about…he and I. We were caught in situations beyond our control in a cruel world that we were powerless against. The darkness that surrounded us was great, and if we didn't keep our strength…we'd fade and die under the pressure of evil. Pain became…easy after a while. Once you had been through so much…once you experienced the worst possible thing…anything else was endurable.
I knew what had happened to him, and I knew that he was angry about it. He was mad at me, at himself, at those that did this to him and at his whole life that led to this point. He wanted to give up, but he couldn't. There was simply no way to give up. Giving up would mean defeat, it would mean that -they- had broken you, that they had won. Yes, it hurt, yes we suffered….and there was yet more to endure. It wasn't over. There are things…things that were done to both of us that neither would ever speak of, or think back on. I will not even describe them for they are unimaginable. Our societies…the ways of life we expected to live had not prepared us for such things. How could I spend 15 years in Shagrat's service and still call him Master and do whatever it was he wanted me to do? How did I endure it? There are worse things than service to an Orc. I had learned them all in the land of Mordor, and this young one…he was starting to learn of them.
"Merilas." he whispered gently, still looking at me. His anger remained, but it wasn't at me anymore, it was simply at everything around him. He wanted so much to be somewhere else, but there was nothing that he could do about it, not in his current condition. He knew I was right. "May I…may I have some more water p-please?" he asked quietly, though his eyes drew back towards the gourd of liquor and he licked his lips desperately….they had begun to bleed again.
He would endure…I brought the water back to his lips and he let me give him the rest of the liquid. His shivering had subsided a little…which worried me. As soon as it seemed that he was capable of withstanding more…they would take him again. My heart began to do strange things in my ribcage as I looked at him. I found myself not wanting him to be hurt anymore.
* * *
PS You all are wonderful!!! Thank you so much for the reviews.J And btw, this is not going to turn into a romance in case any of you were wondering and I will continue it after Frodo is rescued from the tower. There will be a few scenes that you will find interesting, I hope. Especially between Frodo and Legolas.J
CHAPTER NINE -- Enduring
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frodo still held my hand, he was beginning to sweat a little more. The fever was not letting go of him. He had been swinging between talking a lot and then bouts of grim silence. At the moment, all he was doing was lying curled up next to me, his eyes wide open and his hand clutching mine. I could understand what he was going through…I had been through it. He shivered, his eyes held a depth to them that seemed to go on forever. I could tell he was struggling with his senses. "Please…" he managed as I pressed semi-cool water against his lip. "More to drink…I'm…so thirsty…"
"Not yet, Frodo. You can't have too much of that stuff. It'll make you sick." I filled a little cup of water and tried to put it to his lips but he knocked it away.
"No water…" he gasped. "I need…need the drink…please…it hurts…"
I managed to save the water from spilling out of the cup and frowned at him for a moment. He clutched my hand desperately. He wanted to stay drunk, I could tell. He looked up at me with those terribly wide flashing eyes. He was having trouble controlling his emotions, that was not surprising. Anger and desperation were rising in him, I knew it was not something that he was used to. He seemed the type to bottle things up.
I tried to put the water in him again but he shook his head, refusing. He glared at me, and I was rather taken aback by the dark scowl. After the past several hours…I hadn't really expected to find a backbone on the tiny creature.
Well. If he wanted to have a tantrum…this certainly wasn't the time or the place. "Frodo." I said firmly. "If you want another piece of candy, or more of the dragonsblood…you need to finish a cup of water. You must drink something other than the liquor. " I felt like I was talking to a small child, but I knew he had to be fairly old. He didn't -look- more than 30. In fact…it was difficult to place his age at all. My voice was perhaps harsher than it could have been. I wasn't really all that used to being gentle.
He looked like he was about to cry again when I wouldn't comply. He shivered again. His mood was swinging from one end to the other due to the effects of being drunk. Where he had been terribly angry just a moment ago, he now sniffled and looked incredibly pathetic. He was trying hard to keep back tears. "It hurts…" he whined. "Please."
I took the opportunity of an open mouth to force down some of the water. No…I wasn't going to let him spit it out, I kept one hand close around his lips. It obviously hurt…for my thumb was pressing against the bruise on his jaw. "Swallow it." I commanded. "You're not doing yourself any favors, Frodo. You -need- this in your system. Accept it." I wasn't really trying to hurt him, it was just that there was no part of his body that I could touch and -not- cause him pain.
His eyes flashed at me again, the same echo of a backbone that had been there before was now returning. Good…if it gave him strength, I had to use it, had to keep it there. I matched his glare with one of equal strength. Finally he swallowed and I let go of his jaw. He gasped for breath, staring at me.
We both had lot to be mad about…he and I. We were caught in situations beyond our control in a cruel world that we were powerless against. The darkness that surrounded us was great, and if we didn't keep our strength…we'd fade and die under the pressure of evil. Pain became…easy after a while. Once you had been through so much…once you experienced the worst possible thing…anything else was endurable.
I knew what had happened to him, and I knew that he was angry about it. He was mad at me, at himself, at those that did this to him and at his whole life that led to this point. He wanted to give up, but he couldn't. There was simply no way to give up. Giving up would mean defeat, it would mean that -they- had broken you, that they had won. Yes, it hurt, yes we suffered….and there was yet more to endure. It wasn't over. There are things…things that were done to both of us that neither would ever speak of, or think back on. I will not even describe them for they are unimaginable. Our societies…the ways of life we expected to live had not prepared us for such things. How could I spend 15 years in Shagrat's service and still call him Master and do whatever it was he wanted me to do? How did I endure it? There are worse things than service to an Orc. I had learned them all in the land of Mordor, and this young one…he was starting to learn of them.
"Merilas." he whispered gently, still looking at me. His anger remained, but it wasn't at me anymore, it was simply at everything around him. He wanted so much to be somewhere else, but there was nothing that he could do about it, not in his current condition. He knew I was right. "May I…may I have some more water p-please?" he asked quietly, though his eyes drew back towards the gourd of liquor and he licked his lips desperately….they had begun to bleed again.
He would endure…I brought the water back to his lips and he let me give him the rest of the liquid. His shivering had subsided a little…which worried me. As soon as it seemed that he was capable of withstanding more…they would take him again. My heart began to do strange things in my ribcage as I looked at him. I found myself not wanting him to be hurt anymore.
* * *
PS You all are wonderful!!! Thank you so much for the reviews.J And btw, this is not going to turn into a romance in case any of you were wondering and I will continue it after Frodo is rescued from the tower. There will be a few scenes that you will find interesting, I hope. Especially between Frodo and Legolas.J