A/N: Hey everyone! The next chapter is finally here, I'm sorry it took so long! You wouldn't believe how bad our homework situation is right now. We've got the annual standardized test coming up and we've got projects due, homework to turn in, essays to write, but somehow we manage to type fic just for you! So please review, the more we get, the more motivated we are. It's like we live off reviews, ok? Anyhoozle, Here's chapter 9! ^.~
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Chapter 9: The Quiet of An Aftermath
"Reala, they've gone," Frodo breathed, trying to maintain a clear head and not give way to panic, but the girl did not let up and he struggled. "Reala!"
The hobbit's pleas fell on deaf ears, for Frodo's chest was pressed into Reala's abdomen, and with it the Ring pressed into her body. She felt it twitch and pulse above her layers of clothing – apparently so did Frodo, and it set a fuse of fear inside his heart. He squirmed and struggled and cried out, but Reala only pulled herself to her feet and glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was there to stop her from darting. Her arms became tighter. Nobody was looking at her, they were all focused on Gandalf. None would see – the silver suspicion of Aragorn's eyes clashed with hers. Reala thought quickly, and allowed her knees to melt back into the snow.
The others began to approach, and gentle gloved hand came to her shoulder.
"Reala…they are gone…we are safe," Lindi urged her softly, and Aragorn came beside her as well. She avoided his gaze when the ranger quietly pried her arms off of Frodo and let them drop to her sides as if she were a dumbstruck child. Frodo immediately threw himself behind Aragorn and stared at Reala with fear in his wide blue eyes, the prey having escaped the predator. Aragorn watched her in silence, judging, calculating, trying to make sense as Gandalf approached.
"Frodo, you are unscathed…thank goodness," the wizard remarked, though his tone did not reflect the relief in his words.
Merry was second to bustle to his side, bruised but not hurt, and quickly asked, "Frodo? You…are you sure you're all right?"
"You're shaking!" Sam cried out, sheathing his sword and scrambling for a blanket in his pack. In a moment he was beside Frodo with a blanket on his master's shoulders and a hand clasped in his. "Mr. Frodo?"
"Sam, he is unscathed, enough…" Legolas whispered in distant comfort, but the ring bearer did not respond – he kept his eyes on Reala, refusing to let her out of his sight even when his dark snow capped curls swept past his vision. Reala stared back at him for only the time it took for Aragorn to speak again, and when he did she relaxed against the ground and dropped her head to allow her loose dark hair to shield her.
"Frodo?" Aragorn inquired gently, and he laid a finger on the edge of the hobbit's shoulder, hesitant to touch him and provoke yet more fear. "What is wrong?"
"She…she held me so tight that I couldn't breathe or move, I…I thought you wanted - " his last words were directed to Reala, and he stammered on to finish, but Reala snapped her dark eyes up and cut him off.
"Frodo forgive me!" The cry was strained with guilt at what she had just tried to do, no matter how necessary Reala had felt it to be, and she attempted at a quick recovery. "I was afraid. I myself could not breathe or move…I suppose I panicked." It was only partially a lie, and it was enough to suffice for Reala's conscious. Reala had, indeed, been afraid, but not of the wolves, and she awkwardly cleared her throat to ease the tightness from the tense air around them. She waited in silence to see if she had dragged them in.
Then Frodo seemed to relax in relief, and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile.
"I was going to say I thought you wanted to fight them with me in your arms. You are forgiven, Reala, and next time I will know not to fight beside you," There was a nervous laugh in his eyes that told Reala he meant no offense, and at this Reala smiled whole heartedly at him. She at least appreciated that bit of trust. The hobbit reached out with cold fingers and squeezed her wool-sleeved arm. "We were both afraid," he said after a moment of silence, and Aragorn, satisfied, released him and stepped back. Reala risked glancing at him, and saw that he was focused entirely away from her now.
"Gandalf!" Pippin cried from somewhere in the snow, his voice and body blending in with the winds and the whirling flakes. All heads snapped around to see the youngest of the ring bearer's companions pulling Gondor's captain along from where he had apparently fallen in battle. Boromir seemed very indignant, even through the coat of snow. "I know he is hurt, Gandalf, I saw it! Don't believe him when he says he's not! I saw him get bitten…and look at that! He's limping!"
Aragorn arched a brow high above his pale eye. "Boromir?"
"Yes, they bit me," Boromir admitted sourly, yanking his arm away from the hobbit. He lowered his eyes and cradled it to his chest. "But it did not break my skin." He made sure to enforce that truth at least, and narrowed his eyes at Pippin when the hobbit turned around, seeming to forget how childish it looked to the company.
"Nevertheless the wound must be inspected. Aragorn," Gandalf ordered finally, and he waved a weary hand for the company to follow them. He spoke low to his old friend. "We cannot go back to the cave, finding it in this weather is impossible. We must hug the side of this ridge." The wizard looked about the rocks and shielded his eyes from the snow, then pointed his staff to where the cliff bent over as a sort of shelter; years upon years of ice dripping and freezing over itself. "There."
Aragorn slipped an arm around Boromir's broad shoulders and shoved him forward bodily but still helped him to walk the slope to the ridge. Lindi accompanied them, taking Boromir's other side despite his reluctance and protest, and together they were soon beneath the safety of the rock. Boromir sat heavily down and begrudgingly allowed Aragorn to roll his mail shirt up to his elbow with expert fingers. Expert, maybe, but deathly cold! This earned Aragorn some indirect, vicious swearing. Lindi smiled reassuringly.
"Your mail protected you quite well," she noted, and probed the bruises with her own pale fingers when his arm was bare and exposed. "But these bruises will be with you for some time."
"You are very lucky, Boromir," Aragorn agreed quietly, and gently moved Lindi's finger away so he could feel the rest of the arm himself the way he had been taught to so many years ago, to feel for broken veins or bones. Boromir, however, did not appreciate this and grunted louder and more irritably every inch higher that Aragorn went.
"May I have my arm back now?" Boromir snapped rudely at the ranger, and Aragorn nodded and released him with a good grace. Boromir continued to scowl. "Thank you." Aragorn did not respond to the ungrateful tone and turned to Lindi.
"I am going to tend to Frodo. Stay with him."
Lindi nodded quickly and watched Aragorn come to his full height and trod off into the wind, squinting to avoid snowflakes sticking to her lengthy lashes. She swept her piles of pale hair behind her back where it would not whip in her face and torment her anymore. Lindi wrapped her arms around herself and frowned subconsciously at the cold, but when she saw Pippin approaching she smiled at him. "Welcome to the corner of invalids."
"Lindi, is he all right?"
"Fine, but I mentioned that already. Or have you forgotten so quickly?"
"I didn't ask you," Pippin growled a growl to rival Boromir, but his voice quivered when it softened. Pippin folded his arms and shuffled the snow with his foot. "I was worried you may have truly been bitten." To Lindi's interest Boromir assumed a position that mirrored Pippin's, and she swore she even saw him color slightly.
"Well," Boromir began, flatly. "You should not have been."
Hesitantly Pippin turned, hands still crossed over his chest, and then unfurled to grip Boromir in a tight hug. Lindi could no longer contain her laughter when Boromir started, and then patted the hobbit's back in embarrassed resignation.
"Enough, Pippin, let go…" he said after a moment, and Pippin obeyed. Still irritated from what Boromir had put him through, he snapped,
"Dirty mother grabbing – "
"Pippin, there's a lady present!" Boromir scolded in time to stop him, and the hobbit silenced himself for Lindi's sake but gave the captain's leg a good hard kick. Boromir stopped his own howl of pain with a wordless grunt and gave Pippin a withering glare, but the hobbit matched it.
"I told you I could have handled that wolf, Boromir, but you didn't listen and then you got hurt!" Pippin sat down angrily. "Big folk! Ha!"
"Well you would have been killed!"
"Enough you two. Boromir is right, Pippin, stop being senseless and see that." Lindi smiled at the captain, and he colored again, averting his gaze. "That was very brave of you, Boromir."
Pippin snorted and folded his arms. "I say he's a gold digger. He only wanted my victory."
"Oh Pip, no he didn't," Lindi said, gripping the shoulder of the sulking hobbit. "He cares about you."
"He does not."
"I think he does."
"You know, it is very rude to address someone in the third person when they are sitting right next to you," Boromir's voice was sour and his face was set in that scowl he usually wore, but his two companions plainly saw he was not angry when he reminded them.
"I apologize, sincerely, Boromir." Boromir laughed at that, at least, and nodded with a good-natured acceptance. Pippin, however, folded his blue clad arms and tucked his chin into his scarf, giving one of his most impressive frowns.
"Well you can believe what you want," the Took shifted his weight from one leg to the other," but I'll show you I can fight."
Lindi grinned and pulled the hobbit down to sit next to her. "You do that, Pippin, and I'll be cheering you on." Pippin smiled at her after briefly sticking his tongue out at Boromir and was about to say something when he was interrupted by a voice.
"Mind if I sit with you?" Frodo asked politely.
"Of course not, have a seat," Lindi answered him, gesturing to an empty place in their area. Frodo took a seat on a rock next to Boromir and across from Pippin and Lindi. The group continued with a conversation about their dangerous mission, but it eventually escalated into happy talk about the good things they remembered before they learned of their quest: home and good meals. The four were enjoying themselves very much, but something had been prying into the back of Lindi's mind.
Every now and then she would notice Boromir's eyes dart down to the Ring that hung lazily around Frodo's neck, teasing and tempting and daring hands to seize it. He would watch the gold thing intensely until someone spoke. Lindi warily decided she would watch him a little more closely from then on.
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"Reala," Gandalf began in a low voice when Frodo had departed, his eyes unreadable and his hat drawn down to shield them from the harsh wind and snow. Reala once again attempted to duck behind her wall of dark hair, but the wizard's tone did not allow it. "What came over you?"
"I – I told that I was sorry," Reala stumbled over her words as she tried to remember her argument that had momentarily saved her in the aftermath of the battle with the wolves. "I never meant to frighten him – I was frightened as he, that is all."
"Yet earlier you were daring them to attack you, and now you claim to have been frightened." Gandalf shifted so that he could give her a hard, searching stare. Reala hoped her own eyes would not betray her, but if Gandalf could have seen the twisted guilt she felt then her secrete would have been given away right then. "Would you mind explaining the logic behind your actions because it makes no sense to me from where I see it."
Reala looked straight forward, frowning into the storm and pulling her cloak around her frame even tighter as if to shield the soul she would rather hide than keep herself warm. She refused to meet Gandalf's eyes, and desperately tried to explain herself but her words would not leave her throat. Reala simply shook her head silently, and unvarnished fury was plain in her eyes. Gandalf was prying and twisting but worst of all he was beginning to see. The wizard waited only a moment more, and then released a resigned sigh before slowly getting to his feet, leaving Reala alone to fester in her own emotions. The scout was relieved, for the moment, but perhaps the worst thing to emerge from this guilt was the selfish anger that she was becoming attached to her companions. It was not supposed to happen that way.
He made his way through the thin layer of snow in the cave over to Sam and Merry who were desperately trying to start a fire, smacking rocks and rubbing sticks together. Aragorn was watching this and trying hard not to laugh. Gandalf did not find it funny.
"Do you think it is a wise idea to risk the sight and smell of a fire after just being attacked by the Enemy?" he asked of the shivering Hobbits.
"Well, it's getting so much colder, Mr. Gandalf," Sam reasoned, "and we all need to eat, so – "
"I am afraid we'll have to suffer with cold food for tomorrow, Samwise," Gandalf interrupted, but spared the Halflings a look of sympathy. "In the meantime I suggest you try and get some rest." The hobbits nodded solemnly and Sam handed Merry some cold food to distribute to the rest of the fellowship.
Merry went over to where Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were sitting and handed them all a piece of cold bread and pieces of meat to chew on. They thanked the hobbit graciously and Merry nodded, making his way to the rest of the group, who had been joined by Sam and Reala, and distributed their food. Eventually the entire fellowship came together in a circle, all somewhat huddled for warmth against the chill and bite of the Caradhras' cold.
They all ate their food quietly, especially Reala, who kept silent so as not to remind the fellowship of her earlier deeds. She hoped that in silence they might take no heed of her.
Sam had noticed faithfully that his master kept glancing up every once in a while at the dark-haired girl. He tried to stay as far away from her as possible, for he could not so easily forget what had happened with the wolves, and could swear by his life that he had seen something in her eyes that did not belong. Reala had claimed she was only afraid, as everyone else, but just as Gandalf had pointed out earlier, Frodo knew that she was not easily frightened. Sam inched a little closer to Frodo, as if to signal he was indeed his protector.
After a long while of still silence, "We're a fellowship again!" Merry joked.
"Yes, but come morning we must face Caradhras once more, so I would suggest you get some sleep," Gandalf replied, and began to stretch out on the soreness of his muscles before curling back into a crouched position with his robe about his weary thin shoulders. His eyes fell on Reala. "Reala, if you would take the watch…?"
"Aye, Gandalf," Reala said, her voice flat with exhaustion and the sting of the winter. She gathered her cloak around her body again and without another word Reala retreated to the very outer line of the shelter, pulling her shoulders up and facing the cold with narrowed eyes.
"Mr. Frodo, come over here. I've got an extra blanket that we can share since it's so cold and all," Sam offered, and Frodo joined him gratefully. The hobbits fell into immediate sleep while Aragorn took a position similar to that of Gandalf's and drifted off into a light, dreamless sleep. Legolas crossed his hands over his chest but remained awake, and his wide blue eyes kept falling to the Ring bearer. When everyone had fallen into silence and slumber, he focused on a distant thought and dreamed.
One long hour passed, and Reala finally shifted, coming to stand and leave her post to rouse the old wizard. Gandalf immediately awoke, and was on his feet in a second's time despite his groggy state. Before Reala settled herself to sleep, however, she felt his eyes on her again, and this time did not wither beneath his gaze. She met it.
"Fear works in mysterious ways, I do not doubt you were caught in fear, Reala, but I am curious to know what it is that you feared," he spoke quietly in the darkness of the moonless night, and his voice contradicted that of the howling wind. Although she could not see his face, Reala felt the tension in the air that hung heavily about her and threatened to smother her. She looked to the sky, but found no comfort in it as the snow falling violently to the barren earth of the mountainside blocked the pale stars.
"I have long feared the wolves of these parts," she answered slowly, carefully, as if trying to calculate what the wizard would sense in her response and what he would not. Every word was a crucial one when Gandalf was listening. "I did not know them to be of the Dark Lord until we retreated."
Gandalf nodded with polite disinterest, and the reaction confused Reala. He knew she was holding something back, so why was he not pressing her?! Instead he spoke casually, as if in simple conversation. "Your name. Firith. Do you know of the meaning in the common tongue?"
Reala averted her eyes this time, and the pit of her stomach clenched. So he did know, after all. She cleared her throat and did not meet his eyes as a distant look of deep sorrow etched into the features of her face, and a failing mask tried to shield it. "In the common tongue is means fading," she replied quietly, matter-of-factly, speaking barely above a whisper. "Or dying, or declining of health until one no longer can call themselves alive. I am fully aware of the meaning my given name holds, Gandalf."
"Reala Firith, you can fool no one of what is happening inside of you. All evil is held within boundaries, and when the source is destroyed it can emit no more harm." Gandalf's tone was very grave, and struck a painful blow to the psyche of the Reala – it was not the truth the hurt as much as the pity she heard in the undertone of his words. Instead of chastising her, he offered a reassuring smile. "Should we destroy the Ring, we would destroy its maker. And without its master, your curse is no more."
Reala saw through the smile and shot a suspicious glance at him. "Why are you telling me that which I already know?"
Gandalf regarded her quietly for a long while, and when she did not speak again he shrugged his shoulders and watched the night.
"For hope, Reala Firith. Hope for the welfare of us all."
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A/N: Yes! Finally done with another chapter, I really hoped you liked it! I know this one wasn't as interesting, but it's important for later in the story. Reala is working diligently on the next chapter, and she types 96 words a minute, so look for the next installment of "Of Trust and Treachery" soon! ^.~
-Lindi