CHAPTER 3 – Choices
This chapter has been built around a role-play between Elwen and Frodo Baggins of Bag End.
Sam glanced around the glade from his place by the fire, eating his supper dutifully. It had taken only minutes for the elves to arrive at this camping area and not much longer to light the fire and begin to prepare food. He had sat at Frodo's side while they did, but as soon as the food was ready the Lady herself had called him away and placed a plate of supper in his lap. He could hardly refuse her, so here he sat, but his eyes kept straying across the clearing, to where Lord Elrond remained seated by the side of a still unconscious Frodo.
Sheltered from Sam's anxious gaze by Elrond's back, Frodo lay almost perfectly still, immobile save for the slight rise and fall of his chest and stomach with each breath. Had Bilbo been as he was while the Ring held his age fast, he would have been pushing at the elven lord's elbow, demanding to know what caused his adopted child's breathing to come in such short, soft catches. . .but he sat nearby, nodding after only a light meal.
Sam pushed at the lightly cooked vegetables and the small piece of poached trout, picking at it distractedly.
"Now you get that eaten, young lad. Don't go wasting good food."
Jumping guiltily at the voice, Sam looked up to meet Bilbo's watery gaze.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just so worried about Mr Frodo that I don't feel very hungry," Sam replied.
"Nonsense, my lad. Master Elrond will sort him out quickly enough. They say he is the greatest healer in Middle earth. So stop your fretting."
Sam took up a spoonful of vegetables and chewed slowly. They did taste very good, but his eyes kept returning to his master.
"Mr Frodo's not been feeling right ever since Mordor. I thought he would get better but . . . And Lord Elrond says that he may not be able to heal him this time." The gentle gardener gave way to tears at last. "I don't think I could bear to watch him . . . to watch . . . I couldn't."
"Good gracious, lad. Don't take on so. We're travelling with powerful folk. And anyway, that ring of his will protect him. It kept me well for many a year." Bilbo pointed a trembling finger at Sam, his voice holding a note of certainty.
Sam looked at him in some dismay. "But the Ring is gone. That's why he had to go to Mordor, to destroy the Ring . . . and that's why he's so sick now."
Confusion settled on Bilbo's features. "Destroy the ring . . . whatever for. Why go all that way to get rid of a piece of jewellery." His eyes grew distant and his hand began to pat his waistcoat pocket absently. "And it was such a lovely ring."
Sam resisted the urge to shudder. "It was evil, Mr Bilbo. It had to be destroyed. And seemingly, Mr Frodo was the only one that could be trusted to do it. But it hurt him . . . hurt him so bad." He broke off into choking sobs, the plate of food forgotten.
Confused as he was about the reason for his nephew's illness and the severity of it, still Bilbo could recognise distress when he saw it and he was not so far gone that he could not feel compassion. He reached out and laid an arm about Sam, pulling him close and rubbing the shaking shoulders. "Shhhhhhh, lad. It will all come right."
Sam was not convinced.
Elrond sensed Frodo's return to consciousness before there was any physical sign and sent word for warm broth. At last the heavy eyelashes fluttered, raven against the spectrally white features and after some minutes of effort, Frodo opened his eyes, blinking with confusion. Replacing the damp cloth across Frodo's brow, Elrond watched the shadowed blue eyes carefully.
"How are you feeling, Frodo?" He tucked warm soft blankets around the hobbit and waited for the eyes to focus.
"Thirsty . . .terribly thirsty."
Frodo's gaze struggled to focus on the figure above him, his breath still coming at twice the pace it should. The face, with its frame of dark hair, gradually registered in his mind . . . Lord Elrond. Was he in Rivendell? Frodo raised confused eyes to the elf's face.
"Where are we?"
Elrond lifted a tiny, delicately carved alabaster bottle from a small wooden box at his side. "We are in a glade in the Woody End. Will you take some medicine for me? Then you can have some broth."
"Where we first . . .met Gildor . . .and the others, isn't . . .isn't it?" Frodo smiled faintly, pleased with himself for having made the connection through the fog in his mind, though his dark blue eyes remained wells of sorrow. "I . . .I'm not . . .really hungry . . .and I feel . . .a bit sick." He could not seem to find the breath to string more than a couple of words together.
Elrond's voice was calm and quiet, soothing in his ears. "Yes, it is the same place." He removed the stopper from the translucent bottle and slid a hand beneath Frodo's head. The hand holding the bottle touched a finger to the small cleft-chin to gently prize apart pale lips.
"The medicine will help." Five drops of golden liquid landed on Frodo's tongue and then Elrond set the bottle back in the box and waited for Frodo to swallow, his fingers held at the chilled throat. The tincture of Lily of the Valley should help to steady the labouring heart muscles.
A weak motion . . .quite slowly, Frodo swallowed, still blinking as he tried to recover himself a little. This time, there was only the slightest hint of pink at his lips, and this only as the tincture began to take effect: there was no flush of returning colour along the high, sharply etched cheekbones.
Behind him, Gildor and another of the party arrived with heated stones, wrapped in pieces of torn blanket and Elrond supervised their placement around his charge. Although Frodo was not shivering and, indeed, there was a pale sheen of perspiration on his body, the flesh was icy cold. Too often in his long life had Elrond seen this combination of symptoms and his heart wept, for they more often than not preceded a departure from this world. If Frodo were to make it through this journey it would take all of the healer's skill
Slowly Frodo's right hand sought out the gem on its chain about his neck, fastening over it so tightly that his knuckles blanched. Elrond sent out silent thanks to his daughter, so many miles away, grateful for her wisdom in aiding the Ringbearer thus. Then he added some Miruvor to a cup of broth. Lifting Frodo once more, he slid some wadded blankets beneath the small shoulders and head, then leaned him back into their support and touched the cup to his lips.
"Will you at least try a little of this. You will find the flavour very mild and it should not upset your stomach."
"All right . . ." Frodo yielded readily enough, at least for now: the contents of the cup had little fragrance, with no strong smells to unsettle his stomach. Weakly he ventured a small sip, tasting . . .and then another, though very slowly. "I felt . . .earlier . . .cold for so long, and then . . .terribly hot."
Elrond held the cup patiently; tilting it to allow another small trickle of broth once the previous mouthful had been swallowed.
"You have perhaps, stayed longer in the Shire than you should have for your body is weakening, and as it does so it is not able to regulate your temperature properly." A gentle hand rested upon Frodo's chest and heat grew beneath the palm and began to permeate slowly through chilled flesh. "I had been awaiting your message for some weeks before I decided to make plans for my departure, and write to you myself. I thought that you may have decided to remain in Middle-earth after all."
"I almost had." Frodo's voice quailed, soft with regret. "I had almost begun . . .to think that . . .I . . .could, and . . .and should . . .stay." He glanced anxiously toward the other side of the camp, where Sam sat, talking with Bilbo.
"But . . .as it is, I . . .I fear I may have . . .stayed . . .too late, and . . .will hurt Sam . . .all the more now." Slowly, almost hesitantly, he continued to take the broth, swallowing weakly as Elrond offered each minute sip. The warmth seemed hardly to be felt . . .though the tiny limbs seemed to relax a little, and some of the perspiration still breaking out across the delicate face slowed, easing a bit.
Noting the slight improvement Elrond decided it was time to make sure of Frodo's intentions. The Ringbearer needed to know how ill he was and the options that lay before him. "I will use all my skill to get you safely to the West, Little One. But there are some things that even I cannot hold back forever."
The compress was removed and used to dab at Frodo's face. "You must tell me now whether you wish to continue your journey, or return to your home. But I must warn you that if you return now, you will never regain the strength to make this journey again."
Silently Frodo gazed up at him; blue eyes dark as an overcast winter's morning with snow approaching . . .then looked away, sighing softly. For a long moment, he remained quiet, not speaking and Elrond began to wonder whether he had understood. Then Frodo's faint voice drifted on the cold night air.
"I want . . .to spare Sam . . .this last torment . . .for that is . . .what . . .what it would be . . .for him." He swallowed tensely.
"If you are willing, I . . .I would rather . . .continue." Vivid blue eyes met Elrond's directly, their intensity absolutely coherent. "Regardless . . .of what . . .happens."
"I believe you are right. If you remain in the Shire the end will be sure and your friend will be forced to watch you fade. After all that you have been through together I think he would find that a bitter end indeed." The grey eyes that met his were gentle as summer rain. "This way, you have a chance for healing. But if it is not to be I will do all that I can to ease you . . . and Sam will not be left to travel home alone, for I will send some of my people back with him."
"Thank you . . ." There was no smile, and yet Frodo looked grateful, giving a slight nod.
"At . . .at first I thought . . .I wanted . . .to die at . . .at home, at . . .Bag End . . .with all my . . .old, familiar . . .things, and . . .Sam and Rosie . . .beside me . . . But . . .I cannot bear . . .to force them, and . . . little Elanor . . .on that journey."
Elrond continued to coax sips of the fortified broth into Frodo, aware of the soft sound of sobbing coming from the pair of hobbits seated at the fire behind him, although it was probably too low to disturb Frodo.
"No friend would wish to ask another to walk that road with them and yet, from what I have seen of Samwise Gamgee, he would not leave you to make that journey alone if he knew it must be taken . . . as he did not once before."
Frodo's voice took on a firmer edge, despite its thinness. "Which is all . . .the more . . .reason that I . . .will not . . .place him in . . .such a position . . .again." He continued to allow Elrond to administer small doses of the heated nourishment.
"Rosie packed . . .some of . . .my things . . . She . . .knew what . . .I would want . . .and should have . . .in case."
"A wise lady." The elf lay a gentle hand upon Frodo's brow and then touched fingers to the pulse at his throat. The pulse was stronger than before and some warmth had crept back, the perspiration drying.
"You should rest. Do you need anything from your pack? Sam tells me that your sleep has been troubled. Would you like me to give you something to help you rest without dreams?"
Elrond slid an arm beneath Frodo as he removed the additional support and lowered him on to his back once more, pushing the heated stones closer.
"Yes . . .yes, please . . .I have . . .terrible dreams."
Even the thought evoked a fresh sheen of perspiration: the tiny pulse becoming quickened and irregular, unsteady; the forehead damp with icy sweat, and the Little One seemed at once feverish and chilled.
"In . . .in my pack, there . . .there is a . . .a square . . .from one of my . . .favourite quilts . . . I would like . . .very much . . .to have that."
Frodo's pack had been lying behind him all this time and Elrond reached across now, opening it to look within. Trying not to pry too closely at the contents he, nonetheless, had to sort through them carefully to find the tiny square of fabric, no bigger than his outstretched hand.
"Is this it?"
Immediate relief washed over the tiny features. "Yes . . .yes, please . . .that's it." He mustered a faint effort at smiling.
"That was . . .made for me . . .when I was . . .a child . . . And there are . . .squares . . .from some . . .of the others . . .one made . . .for me in . . .Minas Tirith, and . . .one . . .Rosie made . . .while I was . . .staying . . .with them, when . . .when we first . . .returned . . . She used to . . .work on it . . .while . . .sitting with me."
Elrond examined the pale blue and lilac pieces, worked in a delicate design of primula flowers. "The stitching is exquisite. As fine as any I have seen."
Tucking it into Frodo's fingers he turned his attention back to the wooden box at his side. Drawing out another small, carved bottle, he cradled the small head on his arm once more.
"This will work quickly in your present condition, and I promise that you will sleep without dreams."
Five drops of a sweet brown liquid landed smoothly on Frodo's tongue. And they were swallowed quickly, though not without difficulty . . .evident only to Frodo's body and Elrond's eyes as yet, but present nonetheless. Closing his fingers tightly over the square, Frodo rested against the supporting arm, allowing Elrond to cradle his head while giving the dose of much-needed medicine. Yet already he began to curl up a little as best he could, as if anxious to be laid back into his nest of covers and makeshift pillow.
The healer lowered him gently and shook out another blanket, draping it over the tiny form, then he looked up, seeking Galadriel's gaze and his inner voice reached out to her mind.
"We can break camp in a few minutes. He will not be disturbed by the movement."
The Lady of the Golden Wood nodded imperceptibly and rose, issuing the instructions to leave.
Elrond looked down at Frodo, seeing what mortal eyes could not. Within the failing body lay the cause of Frodo's illness. The Ring had wrapped itself about the bright and delicate fea, as convolvulous wraps itself about a plant and strangles it, and when the Ring was torn from Frodo it took parts of his shining fea with it, tearing great rents in the fabric. Elrond could see where Aragorn had tried to draw some of the edges together when he had tended Frodo in Ithilien, but the remaining fabric was too frail and the stitches had finally pulled away.
It was to be hoped that the hobbit's sacrifice would bring an end to pain, for others, if not for Frodo. It would be pity indeed if it did not. Perhaps with the birth of this new age, Middle-earth would find some measure of peace. Yet no one, not even Illuvatar, could know where this new age would take the world, for to man alone, was given the gift to move outside the great song of creation. The healer sighed.
TBC