A Ghost In The Night
Chapter 21: The Cost Of Friendship
Disclaimer: all characters are property of J.R.R Tolkien and Tolkien enterprises. I make no money from this Fan fiction.
Author's note: This is not a slash story, though I suppose you could read that into it if you had a mind to. I have nothing against slash stories at all, but I did not intend this to be read as a slash, so I'm sorry if you got that impression.
Ah, the penultimate chapter. I will miss this story when it's done: the plot holes, the unbelievable dialogue, the hideous grammatical errors (Ice curses her "education")-I'll miss it all!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They remembered a star that was bright,
That burned so in the past.
It shone its light with all its might,
But yet it couldn't last.
"What are you doing?" The other stars cried,
As they watched it dwindle so tender.
"I'm burning away," the star replied,
"But At least I'll be remembered."
"You can sit there and sparkle all you like
forever outshone by the moon,
and no one will notice the loss of the light
when your death comes far too soon.
"But no, not me, I'll shine and I'll sing,
And I'll glow in the heavens so great.
I'll be happy by knowing the joy that I bring
The love inspired instead of the hate.
"So leave me be and let me glow
in all my new found glory!"
The pleas did silence, for they did know
Not how to explain their loves folly.
And soon, too soon, the star did die,
But it is worshipped all the same.
And people weep, and scream and cry
For the star that they had tamed
Even now the stars cry at length
For the star they had yet to know
The star that burnt all its strength,
The star they can't let go.
-
Sam had thought that Pippin had finally grasped at least a relative understanding of his own predicament after their brief conversation, but he hastened from where Pippin stood stock still lest he change his mind. He was far from the soldier now, so far that the peak of the hill he had just run down hid his friend from view, but Pippin's words were far harder to rid himself of than his temporarily shocked companion.
"Do you want to lose this?"
"I don't understand," Sam said to himself, passing the Three Farthing stone, a strange pain within his heart. "I just want my master. Why would I have to lose everything just to get my master back?"
The tweeting bird song was the only reply to his question. Sam kept running.
"You'll lose everything you love."
"Do you want that, Sam?"
"Do you?"
Sam put his hands over his ears, stumbling a little as he hit rockier ground. He passed a group of farmers who were huddled around a hay bale, a pair of them sitting upon it to enjoy an early morning pipe, another one frantically showing something to the others, shoving his cupped hand into the their faces, and Sam, though he passed them quickly, saw a faint blue glitter sparkle from his palm.
"Do you want to lose this?"
"Lose everything?"
"I don't mean to lose nothing," he mumbled to himself breathily for he was tiring from his energetic run and from lack of sleep. He gave a quick smile to the farmers who reacted in kind, gesturing towards the distraught farmer and rolling their eyes skyward.
"Do you want that?"
Sam came screeching to a halt, and he stopped, breathing heavy as he tried to catch his breath. Small beads of perspiration slipped down his face, irritating his hazel eyes that looked at the thin blades of grass which grew through the crushed rocks that covered the road. He could still hear the mocking banter from the farmers in the field opposite, but a new sound had introduced itself to his ears-the sound of hurried footsteps…
It was Pippin, his face red from his own exerted exercise. Sam groaned, but he found he did not have the energy to try and run for it again. Pippin's words were having a strange effect on the gardener and he wanted to know why and how his voice, which he had tried so hard to escape, chased him more vigorously than the hunters had earlier.
"Sam," Pippin greeted, coming to his own abrupt halt, waving off the invitation from the farmer up the field to look at the sparkling dust in his hand. "I've been thinking…"
"So have…"
"Shut up, Samwise!" Pippin demanded lightly, and Sam closed his mouth, eyes locked on the farmer that pranced around in circles and his chuckling companions rather than Pippin. "I've been thinking about what you said with Merry…you're right, he is my friend and I have responsibilities because of that." Pippin stopped a moment to gather his breath. "Responsibilities that I can not waver. Merry trusted me with this task, Samwise Gamgee, and I would dishonour him and our friendship if I did not act upon his request."
He took another breath, his brows furrowing to match his commanding tone. "Merry charged me with the responsibility of keeping you safe and that is what I must do. I can not allow you to charge to Woody End and be destroyed. What would Frodo say if I allowed it!?"
Pippin stopped, his chest still rising heavily as he struggled to gain some oxygen. He looked at the gardener, searching the hazel eyes for any signs that he had been heard, but Sam was not giving any clues to how he felt inside.
"My master is the one in danger…"Sam said finally, tears beginning to form.
"I…"
"Those were your words, Mr Pippin, not mine!" he cried, causing Pippin to become regretful. "I have a promise to keep myself. "Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee," and a fine job I'm doing of keeping it right now!"
"That was on the quest," Pippin argued, slapping a hand onto his thigh in sympathetic frustration. "You are his friend, I understand that…" Sam began to turn away, but Pippin gripped his hand and forced him to listen. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what you went through…over there…" he silenced a little, and Sam, torn in two, allowed him to continue. "But I do understand what is happening here and now, and that is why I can not let you go!"
"He is my friend, Mr Pippin," Sam said softly, emboldened by his shock, fear, and desperation. "I'm only thinking of Frodo!"
"As am I," Pippin cried, expression pleading, arms stretched to the side in a gesture of desperation. "He'd kill me if you were dragged into this! He'd get really mad! Do you want to see him mad?" Pippin asked, trying to force some humour into the situation.
"I just want to see him."
Sam silenced, the pain within his heart almost unbearable. He had to continue to look for his master but there was something inside of him, some hidden yearning, which was reluctant to let him go.
"Oh Mr Pippin," Sam said, looking up through tear smudged vision. "I don't understand."
"Then trust me," Pippin pleaded, placing a hand upon his shoulder, his own eyes glittering from unshed tears. "Trust to Merry's and Frodo's strength! Trust to your own!"
"I feel…" Sam started but he ceased quickly and looked away to the side of the road. There he spotted a large moss covered rock, the grey barely noticeable through the creeping fur that covered it, and he sat upon it, trying ruthlessly to gather some courage or strength from inside of him in the short respite. "I feel torn."
"Do you want to lose this?"
"Do you?"
"Mr Pippin," Sam asked, looking up towards his sun streaked friend. "What you said…" he paused, and Pippin knelt down so as to be on the same level as the gardener, the rocks of the road crunching underfoot as he did so. "I don't understand what you mean about losing everything. I just want my master back at home, for him to be well again…"
"I know," Pippin acknowledged. "It is what we all want."
Sam looked away again. He could not bear to see or face Pippin's questions and pain. "What do they want, Mr Pippin?"
"They want us to lose our friend," Pippin told him, his tone lightly bitter. "But they do not know that would be the result of their actions. Gimli would not listen to us, and Legolas seemed to have his head in the clouds. I know what it is they seek," Pippin admitted, and a dark shadow seemed to fall over him. "If it perturbs me then it will destroy you."
Sam dug his head in his hands, taking solace in the protective shadow of his knitted fingers. "I just want to have my master back the way he was before."
Pippin squeezed his shoulder for there was no other way to convey support when Sam refused to look at him so. "Perhaps," he said gently, Sam still peering at the red tinged shadow. "That is too much for us to ask."
Sam stiffened, and the voice that replied was broken. "It is little to ask, so I think, Mr Pippin. We could ask for a lot more, and a lot more we would be due considering what we did-what my master did. He deserves better."
"He yearns for healing and peace," Pippin told him. "In time I'm sure he will find it in the Shire. We just need to keep an eye on him. Merry seems to instinctively know when Frodo is lying about ill health and when to push and when not to. He understands better than us, I believe, because he has lived through some of what Frodo has; the nazgul wounding, for one thing."
Sam nodded but his head remained buried.
"Merry…he has been most worried about this whole affair. I think he knows something about Frodo, or senses something that we do not. Do you know Sam," Pippin asked, and Sam felt his hands being pulled away from his face, the golden sunlight washing in over the hands that he refused to look away from. "I think Merry is afraid of losing Frodo."
"Then he is not the only one," Sam muttered, his mind numbly absorbed with the colour of his breeches against his well tanned skin. "But as you say, he needs time and support. It wasn't just books that I learned to read at Bag End; I learned to read him: the way he is, the way he acts, what he wants when his words say otherwise. Mr Pippin, I know when he lies about illness and such. He needs us there but he won't admit it."
"Frodo can not be read as any other," Pippin answered after a moment, "and many books have twists one can not expect. You think you know him, Samwise? Can any of us claim such large a stake as that? I believe not." Pippin sadly shook his head, for Sam saw his shadow mimic the movement. "Not even Merry can know how this story ends, or he knows and wants to change it."
"Has he not told you then?"
"He has told me enough to satisfy me," Pippin replied quickly.
Sam sighed. He looked up from the fascinating tapestry of his clothing and towards the direction of Woody End. "Mr Pippin," he asked after a moment. "All I ask is to be with my master. You say that I will be destroyed if I went, I say otherwise. I wish to be with my master, and you I am sure want to be with Mr Merry when he is sick. Let us at least head towards Woody End. I will stay out of sight if I must."
"You do not give up do you?" Pippin questioned, looking up himself from the ground rock.
"Not when my master in concerned."
Pippin sighed. Sam assumed he was thinking again. He knew and could see that Pippin was upset about Merry's own health, fighting an inner battle between loyalty to Merry's request and loyalty to his own safety.
"You can trust me to stick to Mr Frodo through thick and thin-to the bitter end," Sam whispered faintly. "You can trust me to keep any secret of yours-closer than you keep it yourself," he paused, slightly enjoying the shocked silence coming from his companion. "But you can't trust me to let my master face trouble alone, or to abandon him when he needs it."
Pippin was silent, and Sam could tell that he had made an impact.
"Very well," Pippin said finally, Sam watching his shadow extend as Pippin stretched. "But you must promise to stay in the shadows and nothing more."
"All right Mr Pippin."
"Say it Sam."
"I'll stay in the shadows."
"Promise me Sam. I need to hear a promise."
"I'll stay in the shadows," Sam repeated.
"That's not a promise Sam," Pippin criticized. Sam stared at him evenly, noticing how Pippin stood with his arms crossed as he waited for an answer.
"I'll stay in the shadows if my master is not lying wounded or in need of assistance," Sam replied. "And that's a promise. You," Sam added, "should promise the same about Mr Merry."
"Fine," Pippin grumbled, sounding very unsure about the idea. "Make sure you do."
Pippin did not look certain, but Sam was determined to take advantage of the situation. He did not know if Pippin would change his mind, so he stood up and began walking to Woody end, silently bracing himself for a change of heart; but Pippin did not change his mind, and he followed, albeit it silently and uncertainly behind Sam.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You can ask him, Legolas," Gimli whispered to his friend, gesturing towards where Frodo sat with Merry's head in his lap, his mutilated hand combing lightly through the curls. "Merry is no longer in any condition to protect him."
"Gimli," Legolas chastised, shaking his head, his own whisper lighter than air. "We can not ask him about our quest. Look at him," he ordered, a delicate finger gently extended in their direction. Frodo did not notice for he seemed wrapped in torment and guilt, a broken, pitiful expression drowning his face. "He can not even stand being called the Ring bearer. Imagine what damage we will invoke if we ask him about that place. You saw him before! The way he struggled when we tried to give him some athelas and that was without the reminder. We will not ask."
Gimli glanced quickly at Frodo again: he was crying now, silent tears of anguish rolling down the pale face, his eyes closed as he fought some inner demon of destruction.
"He never had a problem with being called the ring bearer before," Gimli argued, looking back towards his Legolas. "Why does he have one now?"
"We didn't know that he didn't have a problem with it," Legolas argued, Frodo's involuntary sobs breaking through their conversation. "We never asked, and Frodo is not one to say even when he is troubled."
"But we have traveled a long way to ask him this," Gimli continued, not noticing Frodo look at them from his fallen position, tears still rolling down his face leaving a diamond trail in the sunlight. "We need to know. I beg you to reconsider. Phrase the question anyway you must, but surely it must be asked."
"Nothing must be done here," Legolas replied, the broken sunlight running over his flawless features, "unless you count our departure. Something has been at work here," he nodded towards Frodo who quickly looked away into the canopy above him. "Something got to him before we did."
Frodo's badly mimed interest in the swaying leaves above him did not hold out for long, and he returned his attention to the two.
"Do you wish to be the straw that broke the camels back? He can bear it until such time comes when he decides to leave these shores, but not if we keep pushing the weight down upon him. It will break him if we ask him to recount that which he tries to hide from."
"Are you sure, Legolas?"
"I am sure. He has been through a lot tonight. Reliving it again will be too much for him."
Gimli did not look satisfied. "Legolas, think about this. We will not have a chance to ask again. We need to know about…"
"What we gain from Frodo and Sam will not be enough to protect us. We must trust to luck."
"Luck!?" Gimli exclaimed, stepping back in amazement. "What luck will we have in the nameless land!?"
"Hush!"
They both turned to Frodo who sat watching them, a curious expression on his face. He didn't appear to have heard a word they had said. Legolas grabbed Gimli's arm and tugged him away so they were hidden underneath the pure shadow of the canopy.
"Do not speak of our destination here," Legolas ordered, eyes glancing everywhere to make sure no one had heard. Frodo was sitting up from his position, trying to edge himself closer to them to gain some knowledge of their burden, but he could not do so when Merry, who lay still on his lap, was his initial priority, and he sat back down again, pinning them with his gaze, watching the hushed whispering and random gesturing.
"Legolas, elf friend, friend of all friends, listen to my plea. Ask him, and give us some luck to take with us into that dark and evil place. We will find none there to aid us!"
"His words or counsel will give us no luck. Merry was right about that."
Gimli paused. "Legolas, this is your decision…"
"…yes…"
"…and I realise that your father betrothed you with it. If you think this is the best thing to do for both us and them, then I will fight no longer. But if you think that there is a chance that we will gain from them then you must ask. That is my advice."
"I have made my decision," Legolas repeated, looking towards where Frodo and Merry lay. "I will not change my mind, Gimli."
Gimli still did not look sure, and he looked at the two hobbits periodically, trying to make up his own mind. After a few breathless moments, and when Legolas showed no sign of relenting, Gimli gave up with a deep sigh heavy with worry.
"Very well," Gimli agreed, but he looked deeply unhappy. "If we must not ask then we must trust to luck, as you put it."
"Then let us speak to Frodo and put his mind at ease. We need to explain our actions."
Legolas walked away before Gimli could answer. Gimli shook his head, his hand coming to rest once again on the glittering metal axe tucked neatly in his belt. He watched Legolas swoop down upon Frodo, his mellifluous voice barely audible from where he stood.
"Very well, Legolas," he mumbled to himself, eyes lingering upon the ring bearer and the fallen soldier. "If that is your decision."
And he went to join the others.
~~~~~~~~~
Like two brilliant beacons they approached, their light like tall pillars against encroaching darkness. Frodo had watched them from where he sat upon the cold ground, deliberately restraining the fierce chill he was feeling, consuming himself in wrapping the small blanket Gimli had given him around Merry's still frame rather than the whispering coming from his companions. Now they were ahead of him, Legolas like a giant spear of pure light in the darkness, and Gimli behind him, a fine fire of determination rippling from his very eyes; but yet they still seemed anxious as ever Frodo had seen them; Gimli seemed frightened, and Legolas doubtful but resolute.
"This is where we leave you, ring bearer," Legolas said, ignoring the small flinch that Frodo gave at being called such. He reached down to Frodo and lay a gentle hand against his cheek, and his voice was soft and caring. "I will see you again across the ocean."
Frodo started, but Gimli frowned at the comment. "Are you hearing gulls again, my friend? They are easily silenced if one has a mind to."
But Legolas ignored his comment and he pinned Frodo with a starlit gaze. "That is," he said gently, thumb traveling lightly over his cheek bone, "if you decide to come."
Legolas knew, for his light but knowing tone told him as much. Frodo was amazed that the elf knew the result of his adventures that night when his friends had not pieced it together and had witnessed more events than they. Frodo looked into those eyes and realized that he could not lie, not that there was a need to.
"I too have heard the beckoning call of the ocean," he started, and admitting it felt a great relief. He placed a warm hand upon the Prince's, squeezing it tightly to show his thanks. "But it was not a sea gull that heralded it or bought it to my attention."
"The sea has many ways to speak, Frodo." Legolas commented, smiling.
Gimli pushed his way forward and knelt in front of Frodo himself, his head bowed. "You have my respect, Frodo," Gimli said warmly, looking up from where his beard brushed against the earth. "But I fear this will be our last meeting on Middle Earth. As for you my friend," he said, turning to Legolas and slapping a gentle hand upon his shoulder. "Do not speak of the sea just yet! Your father has betrothed us with a quest that demands completing."
"That he has," Legolas confirmed and Frodo once again saw a flicker of doubt flicker upon the flawless face.
"What quest do you speak of?" Frodo queried, his tone innocent, his hand squeezing the elf's again, his inquiring gaze switching between the two. Gimli opened his mouth to speak, but at that precise moment Merry groaned and the dwarf seemed to think better of his actions. Legolas smiled weakly, his hand softly landing on Merry's right arm, effectively silencing the hobbit.
"I am no warrior," Frodo continued when they displayed no sign of telling him, "but advise I will give."
Legolas laughed, and it was like the tinkling of wind chimes. "You were always a curious one, my friend," he laughed, Gimli beside him gently stroking Merry's arm to keep him from waking. "Alas, you have already told me what I need to know."
"I did?" Frodo asked, surprised. "But I have told you nothing!"
"Not with your words," Gimli contributed, catching onto Legolas scheme, "but by your actions."
"We no longer need to question you," Legolas agreed, smiling swiftly at Gimli to show his gratitude.
"Then if we have no more queries let us begin our quest!" Gimli shouted, jumping onto his feet, his hand once again straying to his axe. Frodo was positive the sudden show of confidence was for him alone and was sure that neither of them held much hope at all for whatever journey they were about to undertake.
"You are both dear to me," he said finally, fumbling with something to say. He reached forward and gripped onto Gimli's knee and Legolas' arm. "I will not pretend to understand what quest you have been given, nor will I condemn it to folly, for folly it surely seems to you. We do not choose where our path takes us. I just pray that you will be safe."
He did not know of their quest, or what terrible shadow loomed above them, yet somehow his words dispelled the looming clouds, and a ray of sunlight broke into the world where the two were trapped.
"You are a well mannered and wise hobbit, Frodo Baggins," Gimli said to him, a genuine smile upon his face. "In return I will not lie to you." He looked at Legolas who remained silent. "Our road is a perilous one indeed and I know not if we will return."
"You speak frankly, Gimli," Legolas informed him, standing up himself and facing the dwarf; Frodo, still kneeling, watching the exchange and not his hobbit friend whose eyes had just cracked open. "Let us not abandon hope so quickly! Perhaps Aragorn would be able to assist us on our road, and many more beside."
"Would you lead them there, Legolas?" the dwarf countered, Frodo temporarily forgotten, Merry starting to pick himself up from his cousins lap.
"I will not lead them nor ask, but will accept if the offer is given."
And then they fell silent, and no more was spoken of the quest they were to undertake. As one they turned to Frodo and Merry, the latter struggling to prop himself up without using his right arm, the former trying to help him achieve it.
"Well, farewell, my friends." Legolas said, his tone somber, his elven bow catching his wind-blown golden hair. He bowed deeply, turned away, and faded into the shadows. Gimli bowed to them too, but he bid them not farewell and only followed after Legolas, his axe now clutched tightly in his hand. And Frodo and Merry watched them, both shaking, Frodo trying to understand the words of his companions, the quest they were to undertake, and the vision he had seen only moments before; Merry was absorbed in favoring his right arm, his hearts going out to the two that disappeared behind leaves of green.
Little did Frodo know that his vision was not fevered imagination, but a premonition of the future, and had he known it he would have followed after Legolas and Gimli, warning them against the quest they were to undertake; the hunters would have told him their quest, and Frodo would have been destroyed; but Frodo did not know it was a premonition, and he stayed with Merry, heart fearful of the quest, but as complete as he could ever be.
Beside him Merry shivered, bringing Frodo back to reality with a jarring bump.
"Cousin?" Frodo asked, gently stroking his right hand, tearing his gaze from the elf and dwarf. "Are you well?"
"As well as you," Merry replied, shivering even more. "so you can come to your own conclusion."
"A conclusion I have made," Frodo told him, once again focusing on Merry's arm. "But it certainly relates to no experience of mine."
"Suit yourself." Merry mumbled, grimacing a little as he flexed the injured limb.
"Perhaps," Frodo ventured, gently picking both himself and Merry from the ground. "Perhaps we should head back. You need to see a doctor."
Merry only shivered in response. "F-fine," he grumbled, left hand seeking Frodo's and gripping it tightly. "But you have to see one, too."
"The only thing I wish to see," Frodo commented, stumbling as best as he could alongside Merry, "is a bed."
"I'd prefer a pipe myself," Merry mumbled.
"Pipe or bed will be found in Bag End," Frodo reminded him, gently gripping Merry to stop him falling over, his left hand pushing the low hanging branches out of their way. They pushed through the velvet leaves and gradually started heading towards the road.
TBC
Wondering about the essay poem thing at the top? It's supposed to relate to Frodo (notice the "supposed"). The next chapter should be the last. I must make it angsty…
Thanks for reading!
Lots of love
Ice Princess