Chapter 6: Shattered Chapter Rating: PG-13 (mild language, adult themes)

He was finally gone. Thank the stars he was gone. Iris had wanted him out ever since they had reached her residence. She could finally relax and stop thinking about . about . about it.

"Oh dear . So much blood. I couldn't control the bleeding. So much blood.

I won't think about that right now. But I'm wearing it. I'm covered in blood. I'll have to take care of that. I have to take a bath. So much blood. No. Don't think on it. I simply have to take a bath.

Wait . Didn't I take a bath already tonight? In the stream? With Frodo? Oh . don't think on it. Draw the bath water. I must take a bath. I am filthy."

Her actions were mechanical. Actions her unconscious self performed in order to preserve her body while her conscious mind began to close down. "Light," she thought. "I need some light. It's so dark in here. So dark ."

Iris grasped the lighted candle sitting on the maple side table in the hallway. "Who lighted the candle?" She couldn't remember. She sighed and went into her small kitchen. She lighted a couple of wrought iron candle sconces and walked across the short hallway back into her bedroom. She lighted another candle on the small end table beside her bed. The delicate white lace doilies glowed faintly under the golden flame.

Being a hobbitess of habit, she returned the original candle back to the hallway table and extinguished it. Glancing up, she noticed her darkened reflection in the mirror, just as Frodo had noticed his a little while earlier. A bedraggled apparition blinked back in surprise at her. A drowned ghost arisen from its watery, bloody grave.

"So much blood ." her numbed mind voiced. "I'll have to take care of that too."

As in a dream, she drifted down the darkened hallway and back into the kitchen. She set about lighting the stove and getting some water heating for a bath.

"I have to take a bath." That was the one thought constantly playing itself over and over and over in her shattered mind. "I have to take a bath. I have to wash this off me. I have to take care of that. I have to take a bath."

Iris walked through the connecting hallway and into the bathing room, taking a firebrand from the stove box and lighting the beeswax candle set into its wall sconce below the little window overlooking the backyard. She returned to the kitchen, tossing the firebrand into the stove box, and took the warmed water back into the bathing room. She filled the tub time and time again with warm water. In between heating the kettle, she shed her soiled clothes, throwing them into a damp heap on the wooden bedroom floor.

In the light of the flickering candle Iris selected an aromatic oil from her private supply stored in the linen pantry along the west wall of the room. "Lavender." Her mind automatically analyzed and categorized the fragrance as she added a few drops of the precious perfume to her bath. "I love lavender. Frodo has lavender growing in his garden. It's in the blue area. Sam must have planted ages ago, it's so well established."

Her mind wandered from thought to thought, content to let the sense of smell stimulate pleasant memories. Memories of her family back in Southway. Memories of green grass and lush marshland smells. The earth. The smell of mud and growing things. The smell of her grandmother. Lavender and roses. Wild onions. Buttermilk. Honey and wine. Peach and cherry in bloom.

Iris luxuriated in her bath. She lowered herself into the soothing warm water. She mechanically washed her hair, letting herself slip under the water while rinsing the soap out of her tresses. She was tempted to stay under the water as long as she could, holding her breath. But her innate fear of being underwater won out over her conscious mind as she suddenly broke the surface of the bath and sputtered.

The sponge went flying, landing in a large looping arch next to the tub. "I'm going to need that." She grabbed the sponge and vigorously worked the strong lye soap into a thick bubbly lather.

The doctor washed her fatigued body, wincing slightly as the soap stung the raw scrapes on her forearms. "How did I hurt myself?" She had no recollection of how she received the scratches. "I'll have to take care of those after the bath," she absentmindedly thought.

After the bath Iris toweled her hair dry and returned to her bedroom. "Ah, it smells so good in here. Oh yes, Tandy's flowers and herbs are drying in here."

She automatically pulled on her robe and sat down at the dressing table. Personal toiletry items presented themselves to her on more pristine white cotton lace doilies. They were so familiar. So correctly placed. The same way she laid out her surgical tools. Iris had owned the toiletries since childhood. A matched set of South Farthing tortoise shell items for taking care of her wild curly hair. A special gift from her mother and father - something new and completely hers alone, not a hand-me-down from her older sister. She took up her favorite comb and began to de-tangle her hair, catching a glimpse of herself reflected by candlelight in the mirror.

Who was this weary person staring back at her? Dark circles under her hollow green eyes. Angry red scratches on her forearms. "How did I hurt myself?" she again wondered. "I have blood on my arms. I'll have to take care of that. I have to wash it off. I must take a bath."

Iris wandered back into the bathing room, dragging her damp towel along the wet floor. She noticed the tub was full of still-warm soapy water. "Lavender. Now, who could have been in here taking a bath?" She absent- mindedly disrobed, climbed back into the tub and started bathing again. Again, the sting of soap on her scratched forearms caught her attention.

"What am I doing? I just took a bath."

Iris stepped out of the bath and toweled herself dry again, using the same wet towel as before. An area of the white towel darkened with faint red stains. "Why is it doing that? I'll have to take care of that too."

It was then that Iris consciously noticed the scratches on her forearms. Tears welled up in her eyes as the events of the evening flooded back into her shattered mind.

"What have I done? I killed that lad as surely as if I stood there and stabbed him with a scalpel. Oh, Elbereth. The Wyncots must hate me. Frodo must hate me. Why would he make love to me if he hates me? Why, oh why didn't I amputate while there was still time? I shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine."

Iris was thoroughly disgusted with herself, but her practical nature refused to let self-hatred win possession of her soul. "Well, beating myself up is not going to change the outcome. I let my emotions interfere with my work. I shan't do that again. I can't let that happen again, ever! Especially not to Frodo.

Shiest! I've been so stupid! I've fallen in love with a patient. My most difficult patient at that! I can't afford to do that. I can't let my heart rule my head. He'll end up dead just like Ted Wyncot. Shiest! What a stupid lass I've been. I've got to stop this right away. We can't . We shouldn't have . Oh, damn . I'll think on that later."

Iris gathered the candle from the wall sconce and wandered down the hallway into the front examination room. She absentmindedly applied a soothing salve to her scratches, then bandaged them as well as she could one- handedly. Years of medical training took over her actions as she methodically put away the bandages, scissors and ointment, and tidied up the examination room. It was ready to receive the next patient.

"What next patient? I shouldn't be allowed to see patients," the dark thought popped into her head. Iris looked about the combination examination and surgery room, glancing at the shelves of ointment and bandages and medical implements. Glancing at the pitchers and bowls and tables. At the tiny chair and plush stuffed animals she kept in a corner of the room for her youngest patients. "I shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine. I might kill someone again."

She retired to her bedroom. She was tired. So tired. As Iris again pulled on her robe, she noticed the pile of blood-stained clothes lying in a wet heap on the floor.

The clothes were offensive. The doctor decided to burn them in the backyard. The Physician's Building and the Hobbiton Apothecary were next to each other. They shared not only a wall, but also the common backyard consisting of the medical gardens and outbuildings. Iris tended it with her cousin Tandy Bofin and his new bride, Opal Fairbarn.

Iris gathered the ruined clothes into her sore arms and took the wet rags to the rubbish heap. She decided to burn them later that day.

Dawn was breaking as she stood outside in her robe. The rain clouds from the night were receding into the west. The sun below the horizon lighted up the underside of the clouds, turning the morning sky crimson and rose. Somewhere in the sleepy town of Hobbiton, a cock crowed his greeting to the sun as she peeked above the horizon. Iris stood in the little medicinal garden beside the rubbish heap, staring at the overhead clouds.

"The sky is bleeding," she thought. "I shall have to take care of that too. But who's going to take care of me?"