Disclaimer is the same as in Chapter One.
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Five: The Ring Goes East
He could feel the weight of the Ring as a painful chill swept through him. It called to him softly. 'I am a part of you', it said though it did not use words. He shut his eyes tightly, denying the voice inside him. He grit his teeth through the pain, knowing it would only grow worse. Soon he would no longer be able to hide his suffering from anyone.
What would Sally do when she found out?
Millennia had passed since he had resisted the will of the Ring so strongly. Not since it proclaimed him as its master had he even considered denying it.
Sensing the eminence of its own destruction, it had bargained with him at the crack of doom. 'Take me up as your own and I will deny him. Use me and I will expel his essence and redesign myself in your image.' Had he not fallen so deeply within his own darkness, he would not have answered. He knew it would not save him from what he truly suffered but a weakness forced his hand. He took the Ring and proclaimed himself its master once and for all.
His life had resembled nothing credible since. The Ring had become a part of him, reveling in his successes, feeling his pain. It wanted him to use it. It promised him relief and he wanted to answer it with all of his heart.
But he refused. He would not use the Ring again. Ever. The look on Sally's face that afternoon held the reason. His use of it had changed him and no longer could he deny that he was not untouched by its corruption. To destroy the Ring he must first refuse to use it, even to ease his suffering from wounds of body and spirit. He would survive this day as he had all the countless days before only without the Ring's help.
Mr. Baggins leaned against a pillar for support in Chicago's O'Hare airport and watched Sally return from the ticket counter. She smiled weakly as she waved two small airline folders in her hand. "Well, here's our boarding passes, Sir," she said wearily, handing him one of the folders. "I'm sorry but I couldn't afford us any better than coach."
"That's alright, Sally," he said softly. "I don't mind." He had spent years building a great reputation for being a recluse but he found himself oddly pleased at the idea of being around so many people. He had hidden himself away for too long. He only hoped that he would not attract too much attention.
He winced noticeably as he lifted his bag from the floor and Sally reacted with a concerned frown. "Are you alright, Sir?" she asked.
He passed his hand over his face as if to wipe away his pained expression. "Just tired, I suppose," he replied. He looked away from her, hiding the strain that would not leave him. His words sounded like the feeble dismissal that they were but Sally thought better than to pursue it. She would learn enough in time. She hefted the wide strap of her bag onto her shoulder and began to make her way to their gate.
She would move much better now that she wore canvas shoes.
He walked alongside of her, hiding the effort he needed to keep up. Sally's brow continued to crease as if troubled by a thought. He worried he did not mask his misery well enough.
She turned to him suddenly, though she did not break her stride. "May I ask you a question?" she said.
"Of course," he replied, fearing what would follow.
"That—that man at Midway," she began thoughtfully. "He called you something…Fro, Fron--"
He smiled in relief and amusement. "Frodo," he replied.
"That's it," Sally said, smiling in return.
"That's my name," he told her.
"Frodo," she repeated, feeling its shape and sound in her mouth. She felt warmth, familiarity…comfort. Without realizing it, her smile deepened. "It's unusual. Is it Dutch?"
Frodo chuckled softly at her innocent question. "No, it's not," he replied. A touch of seriousness returned to his face as if he had just remembered something unpleasant. "It's…very old."
Sally did not miss his change in tone. She had almost forgotten for a moment that he was not an ordinary man. Age and time to him was a concept of such grand scope that she could not possibly comprehend it. She blushed in slight embarrassment, feeling in her own way unworthy. "Can anyone call you that?" she asked quietly.
He smiled again, reaching for her free hand. He squeezed it briefly and released it. "You may call me 'Frodo', Sally," he said. He looked ahead at the path before them, littered with people ignorant of their quest, oblivious to his burden. A great chill radiated from his shoulder. His old wound stretched the fingers of its deadly hand to encompass his body in pain, reminding him of its eternal presence. He had almost forgotten as he smiled and talked with Sally. For one brief moment he had been free of his torment. "I would like that very much."
Merrick Brandenburg had a deep secret he had tried to keep from his friends: he was a hard worker. He wanted his life to continue much as it had in his college days. He couldn't exactly have endless parties anymore but he at least wanted everyone to believe that he did. As a programmer for a computer software company her found it easy to convince people that all he did all day was play games. If they only knew the hours he worked, if they only saw the complexity of his job, they would see him as a fraud. They might think instead that he was responsible. He feared responsibility more than anyone he knew. He just didn't know why.
He came home just a few minutes shy of 7pm, much too late for a reasonable slacker. As he rounded the landing to his floor he saw that he had an uninvited guest. His friend Piper sat just outside his door with her back leaning against the frame.
She had made having fun in the face of responsibility an art form. No one ever believed making comic books was real work. She never seemed to take anything seriously.
Only once in his memory had she ever been a grown-up.
Once, years ago, he had tried to kiss her. She had stopped him and said, "We weren't meant for that. We were meant for bigger things. We were meant to be friends for life." He didn't realize it then but he agreed with her. He had sensed something when he was around her, a feeling of acceptance and familiarity that he mistook for intimacy. But he learned that she was right. They were meant for bigger things. When all other friends drifted away, he and Piper and Sally remained constant.
From her posture and demeanor he could tell that she had waited for a while. She had turned her full attention away from her magazine to him and smiled a greeting that seemed forced.
"You should have seen me earlier, Mer," she said, pretending to brag. Piper was never the type of person to ever really boast. She had too much invested in finding herself to place false value on material things. Her hand reached into a bag from a gourmet coffee shop and came up with something small and covered in chocolate, which she quickly popped into her mouth. She continued to speak, forcing her words around her morsel. "I had a car, with a driver. He took me shopping. Guess what kind of day I had."
"Stressful?" Merrick replied offering her a hand to pull her to her feet.
She took his hand and in a movement that lacked all feminine grace she stood before him. She frowned at him, still chewing. "Why do you say that?" she asked.
He pointed at the bag of chocolates she still clutched in her left hand. "Chocolate covered espresso beans," he replied knowingly. "The last time you ate those you had had a big fight with your printer."
Her face and posture relaxed in defeat. She couldn't hide from him. He knew her too well. "My snack food of choice at the end of all things," she agreed with a shrug.
"You going to tell me about it?" he asked with mild concern as he unlocked his door.
Piper looked at him with eyes devoid of her usual humor. She seemed oddly spooked. "Let me in first," she answered quietly.
He opened the door and she followed behind him into his apartment. As he retreated into his galley-styled kitchen, she sat on his couch. The surroundings of his small home comforted her in a way she had needed. Merrick possessed a natural gift for transforming any place into a soul- saving sanctuary. Without taking notice of her actions, she had closed her bag of chocolate-covered coffee beans.
Merrick's voice rang out from the kitchen accompanied by the sound of glass bottles and popping bottle caps. "So what's happening in the world of sequential art?"
He emerged with two dark brown bottles in his hands. He offered one to her and she took it gratefully. "It's not work related, Merrick," she said gravely. "It's Sally."
His concern deepened considerably. Of the three of them, Sally was the least likely to get into trouble. "What's wrong with Sally?" he asked.
Suddenly his telephone rang. In two quick steps he reached it and brought the receiver to his ear. "Hello?" he called in greeting.
His face melted back into the worry of the moment before. He looked to Piper. "Sally?" he asked, "Where are you?…Going where?…Why not? Why can't you tell me?" He made his frustration apparent. His friend was faraway and she wouldn't tell him where. If she was in trouble he couldn't help her. "Yeah, Piper's here now."
Piper squirmed at the mention of her name. She ached to hear the other side of the conversation. She already knew enough to be afraid.
Merrick continued. His eyes seemed blind to his surroundings, staring through the table in front of him as he imagined himself facing Sally. "What?…Okay, I can do that. Just a second." His tone of voice had changed and he averted his attention back to Piper. He made a harried gesture, telling her he needed to make a note.
Piper fumbled clumsily through her backpack to retrieve a pen and some paper. Merrick grabbed them both in a rush and said breathlessly into the phone, "Ready." She watched as he scribbled down number after number, each digit followed by a comma.
Suddenly she understood. She had used their stupid, childish code from when they were kids to disguise the real numbers. She tried to signal to Merrick that she knew what to do with them but he waved her off.
"When?" he asked the phone when he had finished the long line of numbers. He nodded vaguely and then asked, "How much?" His face drained of color at the answer. "Say that again…Sally, what kind of trouble are you in?"
Piper imagined her friend's response. She had witnessed it herself earlier that day.
Merrick forced calm into his voice. "Don't worry, Sally," he said. "I'll take care of it. Please, just be careful."
Sally placed the air phone back into its cradle and leaned against the bulkhead wearily. Not wanting to worry about who might overhear her, she used the courtesy phone at the rear of the aircraft. She had watched all around her warily but no one roused her suspicions. She longed to return to her seat. Even its confined space promised at least some rest, albeit momentary. She needed a bed with pillows and blankets and solitude. What she desired more than sleep or safety was just the space to cry.
She had placed the future of Shire Publishing into the hands of her friend and by doing so placed his life in jeopardy. She knew what was waiting for him in New York but in his anonymity he may slip through unnoticed. Who would the Nazgul follow? Merrick in New York? Or Piper, who so boldly volunteered to make that paper trail? Or would they find a way to follow the Ring?
Sally had too much to think of and felt too tired to dwell on it. She would simply have to add those concerns to the growing list of things to cry about when she had the time.
She opened her mouth wide and inhaled deeply. Her lungs expanded with air but seemed to crackle with pressure at the end of her breath. The plane wasn't nearly as stuffy as she imagined. She simply had trouble catching a good breath. She blew the last of her breath out in frustration. Tired or not, she could not lean against the bulkhead for her entire flight. Her inhaler was in her bag.
Sally had hoped to find him asleep when she returned but what she saw brought new fear to her heart.
Her employer sat stricken by some unknown malady. His eyes, half-closed, stared ahead but not blankly. He seemed to see things far away out of her sight and knowledge. His right hand gripped the armrest tightly in an effort to hold himself steady while his body shivered violently.
Sally first reacted with a step backwards and her hand covered her mouth to keep herself from crying out. She quickly overcame her instant fear and reached out for him. He needed her and she would not fail him. She grasped his arm and held it tightly, crouching down beside him in the aisle. "Mr. Baggins?" she called timidly. "Sir, are you alright?"
He did not react to her at all. Her hand came over the top of his. He felt cold to her touch. The icy feel of his skin seeped into her, intensifying her fear. "Frodo?"
His head turned slightly, a flicker of a response. He turned his hand to hold hers. "Sam?" he whispered blindly.
She shook her head though she knew he could not see her. "It's Sally, Sir," she choked. Her throat had become thick with the effort of holding back her emotions.
She could not tell if he had heard her. He did not seem to be really with her as if his body had begun to fail and his spirit tried to flee. "I can't feel my arm," he said in a strangled breath. For the first time, Sally noticed that his left arm laid in a peculiar fashion. His arm had turned outward with his palm facing up. Even as tremor after tremor wracked his body, his left arm did not move. Death seemed to have already touched him here.
"It will never heal," he added in a despair that would torment her for eternity. Tears welled in her eyes. She could hold them back no longer. Fear and confusion gave way to great sadness. She reached up and with great tenderness stroked his cheek. He barely stirred beneath her touch.
Then suddenly, she came to her senses. Sally shook her head to rid herself of her helplessness. She looked around the cabin, almost coming to her feet, to search the faces of the people around her. "I'm going to get you a doctor," she declared.
Through his thick fog of pain and despair, Frodo heard her. He had felt her touch upon his face and her presence gave him the strength to pull himself to the surface of consciousness. He used every bit of his will to force himself to respond. He turned his clouded eyes to face her and tugged on her hand to pull her back down to him. "No, Sally," he struggled to say, swallowing hard from the effort. "A doctor can't help me."
She looked at him in disbelief. He appeared to be dying right before her eyes. The only help she thought she could provide, he denied her. "I have to do something!" she cried.
Frodo sank deeper into his seat, exhausted from the simple effort of speaking. His eyes closed. "This is beyond them," he breathed.
Sally became vaguely aware that her tragedy had not gone unnoticed among the other passengers. From what seemed like a far distance, she heard a man tell a flight attendant they needed a doctor. Frodo had reasons he hid himself away from others so obsessively. He did not want a doctor. A doctor would examine him very closely. Some things about him needed to remain undiscovered. "What about the Ring? Can it help you?" she whispered close to his ear.
Frodo shook his head roughly. "No, not the Ring. I can't use it again."
Her tears ran freely now, fueled by frustration. With each passing moment he slipped farther and farther away from her. She clung to his hand as if she were holding him from death itself. "Tell me what to do!" she cried in desperation.
He roused himself again, opening his eyes. He seemed to look right through her. "Only elf medicine can ease my suffering now," he whispered.
He drove her to the edge of madness with his answers. If she weren't so terrified that she was losing him, she would shake him hard and tell him so. "We're 35,000 feet over the Atlantic ocean," she said through her tears. "Where am I supposed to find an elf?"
Frodo closed his eyes again but managed an answer. "Try first class."
TBC
Chapter 6: "A Glamour Unmasked" –Sally has a fight to reach first class but when she does she finds elves don't always live up to her expectations. Also, Piper and Merrick argue about who is going to New York.
Thanks to all who have reviewed so far. Email me if you want to be notified of updates. I will try to get something up within the next week.
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Five: The Ring Goes East
He could feel the weight of the Ring as a painful chill swept through him. It called to him softly. 'I am a part of you', it said though it did not use words. He shut his eyes tightly, denying the voice inside him. He grit his teeth through the pain, knowing it would only grow worse. Soon he would no longer be able to hide his suffering from anyone.
What would Sally do when she found out?
Millennia had passed since he had resisted the will of the Ring so strongly. Not since it proclaimed him as its master had he even considered denying it.
Sensing the eminence of its own destruction, it had bargained with him at the crack of doom. 'Take me up as your own and I will deny him. Use me and I will expel his essence and redesign myself in your image.' Had he not fallen so deeply within his own darkness, he would not have answered. He knew it would not save him from what he truly suffered but a weakness forced his hand. He took the Ring and proclaimed himself its master once and for all.
His life had resembled nothing credible since. The Ring had become a part of him, reveling in his successes, feeling his pain. It wanted him to use it. It promised him relief and he wanted to answer it with all of his heart.
But he refused. He would not use the Ring again. Ever. The look on Sally's face that afternoon held the reason. His use of it had changed him and no longer could he deny that he was not untouched by its corruption. To destroy the Ring he must first refuse to use it, even to ease his suffering from wounds of body and spirit. He would survive this day as he had all the countless days before only without the Ring's help.
Mr. Baggins leaned against a pillar for support in Chicago's O'Hare airport and watched Sally return from the ticket counter. She smiled weakly as she waved two small airline folders in her hand. "Well, here's our boarding passes, Sir," she said wearily, handing him one of the folders. "I'm sorry but I couldn't afford us any better than coach."
"That's alright, Sally," he said softly. "I don't mind." He had spent years building a great reputation for being a recluse but he found himself oddly pleased at the idea of being around so many people. He had hidden himself away for too long. He only hoped that he would not attract too much attention.
He winced noticeably as he lifted his bag from the floor and Sally reacted with a concerned frown. "Are you alright, Sir?" she asked.
He passed his hand over his face as if to wipe away his pained expression. "Just tired, I suppose," he replied. He looked away from her, hiding the strain that would not leave him. His words sounded like the feeble dismissal that they were but Sally thought better than to pursue it. She would learn enough in time. She hefted the wide strap of her bag onto her shoulder and began to make her way to their gate.
She would move much better now that she wore canvas shoes.
He walked alongside of her, hiding the effort he needed to keep up. Sally's brow continued to crease as if troubled by a thought. He worried he did not mask his misery well enough.
She turned to him suddenly, though she did not break her stride. "May I ask you a question?" she said.
"Of course," he replied, fearing what would follow.
"That—that man at Midway," she began thoughtfully. "He called you something…Fro, Fron--"
He smiled in relief and amusement. "Frodo," he replied.
"That's it," Sally said, smiling in return.
"That's my name," he told her.
"Frodo," she repeated, feeling its shape and sound in her mouth. She felt warmth, familiarity…comfort. Without realizing it, her smile deepened. "It's unusual. Is it Dutch?"
Frodo chuckled softly at her innocent question. "No, it's not," he replied. A touch of seriousness returned to his face as if he had just remembered something unpleasant. "It's…very old."
Sally did not miss his change in tone. She had almost forgotten for a moment that he was not an ordinary man. Age and time to him was a concept of such grand scope that she could not possibly comprehend it. She blushed in slight embarrassment, feeling in her own way unworthy. "Can anyone call you that?" she asked quietly.
He smiled again, reaching for her free hand. He squeezed it briefly and released it. "You may call me 'Frodo', Sally," he said. He looked ahead at the path before them, littered with people ignorant of their quest, oblivious to his burden. A great chill radiated from his shoulder. His old wound stretched the fingers of its deadly hand to encompass his body in pain, reminding him of its eternal presence. He had almost forgotten as he smiled and talked with Sally. For one brief moment he had been free of his torment. "I would like that very much."
Merrick Brandenburg had a deep secret he had tried to keep from his friends: he was a hard worker. He wanted his life to continue much as it had in his college days. He couldn't exactly have endless parties anymore but he at least wanted everyone to believe that he did. As a programmer for a computer software company her found it easy to convince people that all he did all day was play games. If they only knew the hours he worked, if they only saw the complexity of his job, they would see him as a fraud. They might think instead that he was responsible. He feared responsibility more than anyone he knew. He just didn't know why.
He came home just a few minutes shy of 7pm, much too late for a reasonable slacker. As he rounded the landing to his floor he saw that he had an uninvited guest. His friend Piper sat just outside his door with her back leaning against the frame.
She had made having fun in the face of responsibility an art form. No one ever believed making comic books was real work. She never seemed to take anything seriously.
Only once in his memory had she ever been a grown-up.
Once, years ago, he had tried to kiss her. She had stopped him and said, "We weren't meant for that. We were meant for bigger things. We were meant to be friends for life." He didn't realize it then but he agreed with her. He had sensed something when he was around her, a feeling of acceptance and familiarity that he mistook for intimacy. But he learned that she was right. They were meant for bigger things. When all other friends drifted away, he and Piper and Sally remained constant.
From her posture and demeanor he could tell that she had waited for a while. She had turned her full attention away from her magazine to him and smiled a greeting that seemed forced.
"You should have seen me earlier, Mer," she said, pretending to brag. Piper was never the type of person to ever really boast. She had too much invested in finding herself to place false value on material things. Her hand reached into a bag from a gourmet coffee shop and came up with something small and covered in chocolate, which she quickly popped into her mouth. She continued to speak, forcing her words around her morsel. "I had a car, with a driver. He took me shopping. Guess what kind of day I had."
"Stressful?" Merrick replied offering her a hand to pull her to her feet.
She took his hand and in a movement that lacked all feminine grace she stood before him. She frowned at him, still chewing. "Why do you say that?" she asked.
He pointed at the bag of chocolates she still clutched in her left hand. "Chocolate covered espresso beans," he replied knowingly. "The last time you ate those you had had a big fight with your printer."
Her face and posture relaxed in defeat. She couldn't hide from him. He knew her too well. "My snack food of choice at the end of all things," she agreed with a shrug.
"You going to tell me about it?" he asked with mild concern as he unlocked his door.
Piper looked at him with eyes devoid of her usual humor. She seemed oddly spooked. "Let me in first," she answered quietly.
He opened the door and she followed behind him into his apartment. As he retreated into his galley-styled kitchen, she sat on his couch. The surroundings of his small home comforted her in a way she had needed. Merrick possessed a natural gift for transforming any place into a soul- saving sanctuary. Without taking notice of her actions, she had closed her bag of chocolate-covered coffee beans.
Merrick's voice rang out from the kitchen accompanied by the sound of glass bottles and popping bottle caps. "So what's happening in the world of sequential art?"
He emerged with two dark brown bottles in his hands. He offered one to her and she took it gratefully. "It's not work related, Merrick," she said gravely. "It's Sally."
His concern deepened considerably. Of the three of them, Sally was the least likely to get into trouble. "What's wrong with Sally?" he asked.
Suddenly his telephone rang. In two quick steps he reached it and brought the receiver to his ear. "Hello?" he called in greeting.
His face melted back into the worry of the moment before. He looked to Piper. "Sally?" he asked, "Where are you?…Going where?…Why not? Why can't you tell me?" He made his frustration apparent. His friend was faraway and she wouldn't tell him where. If she was in trouble he couldn't help her. "Yeah, Piper's here now."
Piper squirmed at the mention of her name. She ached to hear the other side of the conversation. She already knew enough to be afraid.
Merrick continued. His eyes seemed blind to his surroundings, staring through the table in front of him as he imagined himself facing Sally. "What?…Okay, I can do that. Just a second." His tone of voice had changed and he averted his attention back to Piper. He made a harried gesture, telling her he needed to make a note.
Piper fumbled clumsily through her backpack to retrieve a pen and some paper. Merrick grabbed them both in a rush and said breathlessly into the phone, "Ready." She watched as he scribbled down number after number, each digit followed by a comma.
Suddenly she understood. She had used their stupid, childish code from when they were kids to disguise the real numbers. She tried to signal to Merrick that she knew what to do with them but he waved her off.
"When?" he asked the phone when he had finished the long line of numbers. He nodded vaguely and then asked, "How much?" His face drained of color at the answer. "Say that again…Sally, what kind of trouble are you in?"
Piper imagined her friend's response. She had witnessed it herself earlier that day.
Merrick forced calm into his voice. "Don't worry, Sally," he said. "I'll take care of it. Please, just be careful."
Sally placed the air phone back into its cradle and leaned against the bulkhead wearily. Not wanting to worry about who might overhear her, she used the courtesy phone at the rear of the aircraft. She had watched all around her warily but no one roused her suspicions. She longed to return to her seat. Even its confined space promised at least some rest, albeit momentary. She needed a bed with pillows and blankets and solitude. What she desired more than sleep or safety was just the space to cry.
She had placed the future of Shire Publishing into the hands of her friend and by doing so placed his life in jeopardy. She knew what was waiting for him in New York but in his anonymity he may slip through unnoticed. Who would the Nazgul follow? Merrick in New York? Or Piper, who so boldly volunteered to make that paper trail? Or would they find a way to follow the Ring?
Sally had too much to think of and felt too tired to dwell on it. She would simply have to add those concerns to the growing list of things to cry about when she had the time.
She opened her mouth wide and inhaled deeply. Her lungs expanded with air but seemed to crackle with pressure at the end of her breath. The plane wasn't nearly as stuffy as she imagined. She simply had trouble catching a good breath. She blew the last of her breath out in frustration. Tired or not, she could not lean against the bulkhead for her entire flight. Her inhaler was in her bag.
Sally had hoped to find him asleep when she returned but what she saw brought new fear to her heart.
Her employer sat stricken by some unknown malady. His eyes, half-closed, stared ahead but not blankly. He seemed to see things far away out of her sight and knowledge. His right hand gripped the armrest tightly in an effort to hold himself steady while his body shivered violently.
Sally first reacted with a step backwards and her hand covered her mouth to keep herself from crying out. She quickly overcame her instant fear and reached out for him. He needed her and she would not fail him. She grasped his arm and held it tightly, crouching down beside him in the aisle. "Mr. Baggins?" she called timidly. "Sir, are you alright?"
He did not react to her at all. Her hand came over the top of his. He felt cold to her touch. The icy feel of his skin seeped into her, intensifying her fear. "Frodo?"
His head turned slightly, a flicker of a response. He turned his hand to hold hers. "Sam?" he whispered blindly.
She shook her head though she knew he could not see her. "It's Sally, Sir," she choked. Her throat had become thick with the effort of holding back her emotions.
She could not tell if he had heard her. He did not seem to be really with her as if his body had begun to fail and his spirit tried to flee. "I can't feel my arm," he said in a strangled breath. For the first time, Sally noticed that his left arm laid in a peculiar fashion. His arm had turned outward with his palm facing up. Even as tremor after tremor wracked his body, his left arm did not move. Death seemed to have already touched him here.
"It will never heal," he added in a despair that would torment her for eternity. Tears welled in her eyes. She could hold them back no longer. Fear and confusion gave way to great sadness. She reached up and with great tenderness stroked his cheek. He barely stirred beneath her touch.
Then suddenly, she came to her senses. Sally shook her head to rid herself of her helplessness. She looked around the cabin, almost coming to her feet, to search the faces of the people around her. "I'm going to get you a doctor," she declared.
Through his thick fog of pain and despair, Frodo heard her. He had felt her touch upon his face and her presence gave him the strength to pull himself to the surface of consciousness. He used every bit of his will to force himself to respond. He turned his clouded eyes to face her and tugged on her hand to pull her back down to him. "No, Sally," he struggled to say, swallowing hard from the effort. "A doctor can't help me."
She looked at him in disbelief. He appeared to be dying right before her eyes. The only help she thought she could provide, he denied her. "I have to do something!" she cried.
Frodo sank deeper into his seat, exhausted from the simple effort of speaking. His eyes closed. "This is beyond them," he breathed.
Sally became vaguely aware that her tragedy had not gone unnoticed among the other passengers. From what seemed like a far distance, she heard a man tell a flight attendant they needed a doctor. Frodo had reasons he hid himself away from others so obsessively. He did not want a doctor. A doctor would examine him very closely. Some things about him needed to remain undiscovered. "What about the Ring? Can it help you?" she whispered close to his ear.
Frodo shook his head roughly. "No, not the Ring. I can't use it again."
Her tears ran freely now, fueled by frustration. With each passing moment he slipped farther and farther away from her. She clung to his hand as if she were holding him from death itself. "Tell me what to do!" she cried in desperation.
He roused himself again, opening his eyes. He seemed to look right through her. "Only elf medicine can ease my suffering now," he whispered.
He drove her to the edge of madness with his answers. If she weren't so terrified that she was losing him, she would shake him hard and tell him so. "We're 35,000 feet over the Atlantic ocean," she said through her tears. "Where am I supposed to find an elf?"
Frodo closed his eyes again but managed an answer. "Try first class."
TBC
Chapter 6: "A Glamour Unmasked" –Sally has a fight to reach first class but when she does she finds elves don't always live up to her expectations. Also, Piper and Merrick argue about who is going to New York.
Thanks to all who have reviewed so far. Email me if you want to be notified of updates. I will try to get something up within the next week.