CHAPTER ELEVEN - SILENCE
When Frodo squeezed open his eyes, he felt the renewed pain of his more recent wounds threefold. He looked under the blanket at his chest and couldn't help but wince. Some of his earliest wounds were little more than nasty scars but some of the fresher were still seeping puss and blood. He looked around him. The door was shut to the room; he wondered if it was locked and why.

He remembered the events of yesterday and another tear rolled down his face. He couldn't remember why he had been so angry; he knew he was angry at them for leaving him, but not angry enough to try and kill Pippin. But he had spoken to Gandalf.he had doomed the shire. Tears rolled down his cheeks, although Frodo wondered how he could have any tears left.

He got up and looked out of the window into the morning light. It really was beautiful, even if he could see Mount Doom in the distance. He should be there he thought for some reason.

Frodo.

Frodo spun around. It was Master.He had come back. He had said he would destroy the shire if Frodo spoke and he had. He should be punished. Yet he could not see Master anywhere.

You have been very bad Frodo and you must be punished.

Frodo nodded vigorously, looking out of a westward window now. It felt closer to Master somehow.

Pippin opened an eye, but remained very still. Frodo was acting very strangely again. Gandalf had explained to him that it was not Frodo's fault that he had hurt him and to come and find Gandalf if Frodo should do anything odd again. Pippin slithered out of bed as quietly as he could and soon returned with Gandalf. They stood silent in the doorway.

All Gandalf and Pippin could see was Frodo violently nodding and shaking his head, then gesturing to things no one else could see.

"Frodo?" Gandalf said gently. Frodo turned around.

You do not deserve a voice Frodo Baggins. Therefore I shall put it to good use.

Frodo felt words coming out of his mouth, but they were not his.

"So, Gandalf Greyhame, we meet again." Frodo's voice was deep and resonating, but Gandalf could see the fear in Frodo's eyes.

"Leave the half-ling Saruman, he is of no use to you."

"Ahh, but he is. You always were so short-sighted Gandalf, never one to see the bigger picture. Frodo is the turning point."

Gandalf tried not to look puzzled. Frodo laughed.

"At least the half-ling has not told you anything useful yet, but I will prevent any further damage like this." A gleam shone in his eyes then faded.

Frodo spluttered and caught at his throat, choking and began to go blue.

Gandalf ran to the young hobbit, but by the time he had, Frodo seemed fine. He helped the young hobbit up.

"Are you alright, Frodo?" He asked gently, moving to the hobbit's level to look into his eyes.

Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but nothing seemed to happen. Gandalf slowly felt around the hobbit's throat. The bruises were still raw and black, but something was missing underneath. Gandalf felt again, more slowly and surely this time, not missing how Frodo winced under his touch. His voice box was completely gone.

***

Frodo sat in the library, depressed. He knew he had been punished and that he couldn't speak. He deserved it, he guessed, he had disobeyed Master. He had been writing down everything that had happened to him, but paused after he'd got to Isengard. What if Master found out and burnt off his hands? Frodo threw the pen across the room and slumped into the chair. It was useless.

He let his thoughts drift and once again felt the ring calling to him. It nagged at him, called to him and he wanted to reply so badly.he couldn't of course. He could barely walk about for five or more minutes without pulling out one of his stitches in his stomach. Soon, he decided, when he was well enough, he could answer the call. Soon, he would fulfil Master's special task he had given to him the day he'd left.

***

Legolas sat on the highest balcony in Edoras. He could see for hundreds of miles here and it made him despair. There were no trees within sight and no elves closer than Mirkwood. All the elves at Helm's Deep had perished save him.

Why had that been? He was certainly no one special, he had failed at every task given to him and would have readily given his life in exchange for Haldir's. If Haldir were here instead of him, he was sure things would be much better for everyone.

Gimli approached and sat beside him, also looking at the surroundings. Recently, Aragorn and Gimli kept pestering Legolas about Frodo, telling him it wasn't his fault. The more they told him that, the more his heart told him they were lying to try and make him feel better.

"I didn't see you at the rations cart today, or yesterday now I think about it. When was the last time you ate?" Gimli mumbled.

"It's not important. I'm not important." Legolas' mind drifted back to Frodo. If it hadn't been for him, Frodo could be free and well somewhere safe. If he had helped Mithrandir when he'd been given the chance, perhaps Middle Earth would have a greater chance of surviving the coming war.

Gimli growled. "Legolas, my friend. You are important; to the people of Middle Earth, Aragorn and even me. You are important to me. If you do not eat something right now, I will stand here and shove it down your poncy Elven throat while Aragorn holds it open. And don't you think I won't, Elf!"

Legolas allowed himself a small smile at that image. Gimli was a good person really.he deserved to be here.but Legolas.didn't. His mind wandered again; he felt Gimli's stare at the back of his head.

"I will go when I am finished thinking."

Gimli nodded at this small concession. "Just make sure you do. I'll be watching you know. I may not have super duper Elf vision, but I can watch food like a hawk."

Legolas heard Gimli's iron clad boots stomp down the steps. He was glad he was gone. He needed to be alone. He didn't deserve company.

***

Merry was also out looking at the sunrise that morning, but not so high as Legolas. He had seen the elf moping about the place and Aragorn had told him he grieved Frodo's death. But Frodo was alive in Minas Tirith, Merry had argued. Aragorn just shrugged and said, "He is an Elf."

He wondered what Pippin was doing this morning. Probably off causing some kind of mischief somewhere he thought, trying to stifle a giggle; which reminded him of why he was going to the rations room.

***

Days passed and the members of the Fellowship grew restless, wherever in Middle Earth they were.

Frodo healed slowly in Minas Tirith, pushing his strength further every day, determined to go after the ring.

Legolas' strength dwindled; he spent more and more time alone on the top balcony, listening to the wind.

Merry played some mischievous pranks on the guards in Edoras and was reprimanded quite severely by King Theoden and put on washing plates duty. It had a sense of deja-vu about it for him.

Aragorn worried constantly for Legolas' health, but was kept busy with making plans for securing Edoras and the journey to Minas Tirith.

Gimli was kept busy eating, being cynical at the poor craftsmanship of the stone supports of Edoras and worrying for Legolas.

Pippin watched Frodo from afar, worrying for his cousin, but too scared to approach him since it happened. His head still pounded underneath the bandage.

Sam was kept in the barrel room, not permitted more than minimal rations each day, whilst Faramir's inner torment on what to do with him raged.

Gandalf watched the sunrise every morning, watched how the fires of Mount Doom grew ever brighter each day. It would be soon.

Boromir's body lay in the small boat, being tossed upon the waves out at sea; a reminder to all what happens to those who try to steal the ring.