Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or locations sigh. Mel is mine though.
A/N : Thanks again to danceingfae, Maverick Girl, Dy – my faithful readers hugs all. And to whoever is lurking in the background, if you are still following the story, come out, come out wherever you are….!
Samus: You are right, of course I changed the whole chronology and a lot more than that. If you read chapter 8, you will see that Gandalf tells Mel that Bilbo gave him the Ring. (I agree, I should have said 'more' than 60 years ago, not 'almost' 60 years ago). Also whatever she remembers from Gandalf's tale is what happened up to that point. Let's not forget that the Ring had a 2000-odd year history before the point at which this story starts. Thanks a lot for your input and for pointing that out!
~ Chapter 10 – Insomnia ~
Dawn came, inevitably, or at least we felt the chill of it since light was not privileged enough to penetrate to the secluded spot where we had sheltered. Gandalf concealed the traces of our camp as best as he could before we departed in the morning.
The stillness was unchanged yet I noticed patched of faded grass and sparse bushes as we neared the outer fringes of Mirkwood. While such frail plant life broke the monotony of the dank, shady landscape I had become so accustomed to, it occurred to me that I was no longer concerned with admiring the surroundings, like in the beginning. I did not even mourn the loss of clean invigorating air that had lifted my spirits and was now replaced by clinging unpleasant humidity. I found myself drinking increasingly large amounts of water to quench the thirst that seemed to devour my body with ruthless intensity.
My whole world had been reduced to seeking small creature comforts where almost none existed but mostly trying to run away from the shadows that had begun dancing before my eyes with terrifying regularity. I no longer needed to close my eyes to see them.
I wondered if any such visions befell Gandalf, Aragorn or at least Gollum who continually fell into step with me, searching for my eyes, pleading with his own, but saying nothing.
One more day, I kept telling myself, one more day and we would meet up with Legolas and his company of soldiers. Gandalf estimated another week from there to Gollum's cave.
One day..if we were lucky. Aragorn was riding, in no condition to walk, and I was amazed at his ability to maintain his balance, however fragile, in the saddle and not collapse in a heap. His eyes often rolled back in his head as he almost drifted away from consciousness but Gandalf, who walked beside the horse, never failed to offer him a steadying hand.
'I am holding you back' Aragorn's voice broke the monotony. We all stared at the Ranger, who had not spoken the whole day and whom I had thought to be beyond lucidity. Bitterness and anger were evident in his tone and one could only guess at the helplessness and futility he felt. He was supposed to be the leader and our protector, more so now that Legolas was gone, instead he wandered in and out of consciousness and made the enemy' task of catching up with us all the easier.
A brief stop we made to refill our water bottles brought us face to face with the reality of Aragorn's condition. With great effort, the Ranger dismounted and once again he inspected his wound. This time I found the guts to look. The whole of the lower arm had taken a disgusting purplish hue, the bite mark mottled with tiny white flecks while the hand was swollen and the nails looked a sickeningly yellow.
'It's festering' Gandalf remarked.
'You're right' Aragorn replied in a perfectly clinical tone, as if it was not his own body he was talking about.
'We will need to light a fire' Gandalf said and stood up.
'No, not now' Aragorn disagreed. 'We need to find a better shelter.'
'Aragorn' Gandalf warned 'You could lose the use of your arm, if not the arm itself should you choose to delay too much.'
'I know that' Aragorn said. 'But I know what I am saying. We cannot linger here.' He bore too resolute a look and even Gandalf refrained from arguing further.
So we moved on once more and found another out-of-the-way place to camp that night. Legolas had taught me how to build a fire and I tried to help Gandalf as much as I could. It felt somewhat gratifying to know that I was of some use instead of a burden. When the fire was lit, I busied myself with organizing a comfortable enough sleeping place for Aragorn.
'I do not expect to be waited on' Aragorn said as soon as he noticed what I was doing.
'In that case, you better enjoy it while it lasts, because I'm not used to waiting on anyone either' I replied jokingly. 'And besides, you prepared my bed for me every night since we started out. So let's say I'm just returning the favor.'
'I am not used to this…attention.' Aragorn returned, his smile sincere but every word obviously costing him a lot of anguish. It was evident that he was not used to anyone tending him, even Gandalf and certainly not me. He probably felt as much frustration as pain.
'You will have to help me cleanse this thoroughly.' Aragorn said eyeing Gandalf levelly. 'I cannot do it very well with only one hand'
The next moment I heard the unmistakable sound of iron being unsheathed and I turned to see Aragorn placing the tip of his dagger into the fire, the same dagger that he had held at my throat the night before, thinking I was the enemy. My stomach turned as I realized what was about to happen and I must have turned a sickening shade because Aragorn beckoned me to sit close to him.
'I wish to ask you something' his voice was barely a hush.
He opened his healthy hand to reveal several brownish-green leaves. They looked fragile yet strangely at home in the large, elegant palm. Not the hand of a warrior, I mused. Quite the opposite. These hands were made to build, strengthen, not by force but through mending, healing and protecting. The very essence of Aragorn was laid bare by this hand.
'Athelas' Aragorn explained. 'Please boil some water and scatter the leaves in it. They will work wonders for all sorts of wounds and other ailments.'
I scooped the tiny leaves out of Aragorn's palm almost reverently and it occurred to me that he had given me this task so that I was not forced to witness what followed. Looking after me again, I noted.
'Hold still' Gandalf commanded as he slowly removed the dagger from the flames, using a cloth to grasp the hot handle. I could not help stealing a glance at the Ranger whose eyes burned but whose countenance showed none of the anticipation of horrible pain one would normally associate with such an extreme, barbaric surgical procedure.
If Aragorn gasped or indeed made any sound at all as the sweltering orange-glowing iron made contact with his injured flesh, I heard none of it. I was too busy trying to shut the agonizing sound of hissing, burning flesh out of my mind and to ignore the scorching stench that dissipated into the air in an instant. I concentrated fiercely on the bowl of boiling water and dispersed the athelas leaves in it. Within seconds the fresh, healing fragrance exploded around our little camp and for the first time in days, I felt uplifted and almost optimistic. I dipped a few cloths in the healing mixture and padded across where Gandalf and Aragorn sat. None of the undoubtedly excruciating pain that he had suffered was reflected on Aragorn's face, the only telltale sign was his deathly pallor and the beads of sweat that ran down his face and matted his hair.
'Thank you, Mel.' He said, his intent eyes fixed on me. Polite and well mannered, after having your flesh branded with a hot iron…it was too much for me.
'Don't thank me, Aragorn' I said half-jokingly, not finding anything else to say. 'I'm quite amazed that I haven't passed out yet and forced Gandalf to leave you and attend to me.'
My comment elicited a guffaw from the wizard and a wide grin from Aragorn. Yet the strain of the wound was still all too evident on his face even as he dabbed at his arm with the athelas infused cloth.
In spite of the Ranger's protests, Gandalf ordered Aragorn to rest and he grudgingly agreed. I lay down as well, expecting to sleep soundly. All the more since the athelas infusion lulled my body into a state so comfortable I had not remembered experiencing since my first day in Lothlorien. The previous night, sleep had evaded me after the Nazgul nightmare and I was convinced that the shadows I kept seeing in the periphery of my vision throughout the day were owed to insufficient sleep. But after falling asleep easily enough, I awakened several times in a short space of time because of the racking thirst that seemed to endure no matter how much water I drank. My throat burned as if I was on the brink of dehydration even as I insatiably gulped down the water. Gandalf sat watching by the fire, giving me a somewhat intrigued look that made me wonder if he found the sight of my craving for water alarming.
'Get some sleep and let me watch.' I urged him. 'I'm too high strung from the events of the day. I cannot seem to relax enough.'
'You are not getting enough rest, Mel' Gandalf scolded gently. 'You cannot expect to go on with so little sleep.'
'Well, it doesn't matter anymore, does it?' I retorted and instantly regretted my tartness. 'I'm sorry, Gandalf. That was totally uncalled for. What I meant to say is that from the little that I do remember about my life, I never needed much sleep.'
'No need to apologize.' The kindness was not gone from Gandalf's tone. 'None of us is safe.'
'What do you mean?'
'We are all affected by the Ring, one way or another.'
'Frankly, I find that hard to believe. I mean, that the Ring would have any influence on you or Aragorn.'
Gandalf glanced around warily, eyes alert and piercing, until they rested on Gollum who had fallen into one of his rare spells of slumber. It would not last long but his uncontrollable twitching made it obvious that the creature was not feigning.
'Gollum sleeps' Gandalf whispered quite contentedly.
With infinite care, the wizard pulled something over the top of his head, something that hung around his neck, concealed under his cloak. It was a longish chain made of small silvery ringlets. I understood immediately why Gollum could not be privy to this vital exchange.
'Is this…?' I asked stupidly, my eyes fastened on the little band of gold that dangled expectantly at the end of the chain, glowing shyly in the soft firelight.
In spite of everything I had seen in the past few weeks, my common sense clashed violently with the concept this trinket embodied.
'So much fuss...over this?' I managed to articulate.
Since the time I had learned that the Ring was in the possession of one of my companions, I had made a conscious effort to refrain from asking specific questions about it. I had no idea whether it was Gandalf or Aragorn who carried it and I had ridiculously decided that knowing as little as possible about the Ring would somehow render me impervious to its influence and allure.
'I fear that I will have to entrust this to your care, if only for a while.' Gandalf proffered the chain taking great pains not to touch the Ring but I made no move to take it.
'I want nothing to do with it.'
'It will be safer with you than with any of us.' Gandalf insisted.
'No, I don't believe it. I will take it across with me when we get to the cave, but I would prefer to stay away from it until then. I….I have seen it in my mind, before I even knew it was here.' I confessed, hoping that Gandalf would change his mind.
'I know you are scared that you are not strong enough. None of us is. Aragorn carried it until Gollum bit him, because I had asked him to. And I had asked him because I could no longer control the visions it spawned.'
'What? But how can it…' I was too stunned to continue. Gandalf seemed beyond the reach of even something as powerful as the Ring.
'The flaming Eye of Sauron dwelt in my mind every waking moment. Even my wizard's lore could not prevail against it and was not enough to drive it away. There were incessant voices that whirred in my head, telling me of the great good I could bring about if only I were to be its master. And that was a tempting thought, even for me.'
My heart went out to the elderly wizard and I felt an actual pang of pain as he spoke. Gandalf had told me about the Eye of Sauron. Thankfully I had not been graced with visions of it. One had to count their blessings, I supposed.
'What about Aragorn?' I asked. 'How was he affected?'
'Aragorn is no mere Ranger, as you might already know. He has inside him blood of kings. It was his forebear Isildur who cut the Ring off Sauron's hand two ages ago. But it was also Isildur who, when presented with the opportunity, refused to cast it into the fire and took it as his own. It is this weakness that Aragorn believes has sullied the blood of his kin and now courses through his veins. He knows only too well that before long, the Ring will worm its way into anyone's mind and heart. And he fears he in turn, will be tempted to use its power to challenge the Dark Lord and gain that to which he is rightfully entitled: his kingship.'
'But he agreed to carry it nevertheless.' I was beginning to comprehend their predicament and to fear that I would not succeed into dissuading Gandalf from his intention.
'Indeed,' Gandalf continued 'we agreed to share the burden as best as we could, for as long as we could, until we reached the end of our journey.'
'And Legolas? Why was he not involved at all in this?'
'Elves are slowly but surely leaving Middle-Earth. The Firstborn are no longer going to great lengths to preserve this world as their own. They would protect it, yes, even die doing so, yet it is men and other races that will inherit Middle-Earth. An elf would not want to bear the One Ring.'
While the explanation seemed perfectly plausible to Gandalf, it did not seem so to me but that irrelevant. It was not the Elves' fight. It was not mine either, yet I was caught in the middle of it and I had pledged to help in the only way I could.
'I know it is much to ask and that you might not see the reasoning as I do' Gandalf laid my thoughts bare once again. He took my hand gently and placed the chain and the Ring in my hand. 'That is why you must have it.'
I studied the Ring briefly. It had wreaked havoc for thousands of years in this world. Yet it now lay harmless in my hand, heavier and colder than I thought, and it seemed nothing more than a fancy trinket with an exaggerated tale woven around it. I closed my fist protectively around it. I had known about its existence for only a few days yet I had seen visions that chilled my blood.
The greater part of my mind fought desperately to grasp this alternate reality. Something had happened that had changed my destiny. And I realized there and then, that my ultimate hope was that this world was a lie… because if it was the truth, it would be too much to accept.
I sat up a long time, smoking Gandalf's pipe and passing my time with my favorite pursuit: striving to remember the faintest details of my past life. And while my lack of reminiscence brought me no pleasure, I found some measure of solace in the wizards' pipe weed. Eventually Gandalf had given up trying to persuade me to sleep and had lain down to rest, but only after extracting a promise that I would wake him the moment I felt drowsy. I had always wondered if the wizard actually slept or just kept vigil with his eyes closed.
Aragorn had slept a dead slumber for a few hours but as I kept watch he started thrashing about again. A groan escaped his lips and I immediately drew closer, careful not to touch him this time and find his dagger at my throat again. But it soon became evident that he was in no condition to attack anyone. Aragorn was shivering wildly, his eyes were wide open yet unseeing and I was alarmed by his glazed over expression. He muttered softly in a language I did not understand and which I assumed was elvish. All caution thrown aside, I touched his forehead and found him burning with fever. Summon Gandalf, my mind cautioned, you are not qualified for this. The contact with my cold hand seemed to settle him a bit so an idea came to me. The athelas infusion had cooled down and I dipped a cloth in it and bathed his forehead, wiping away the sweat the way I remembered my mother used to do when I was little.
I studied his elegant features in the firelight. No amount of grime or stubble could hide his aristocratic quality or belie his rightful kingly heritage.
In his thrashing, his fevered eyes traveled to my face and panic gripped me because his gaze penetrated right through me and settled on a point far beyond me.
'Arwen…' he whispered.
He was obviously delirious and in his hallucination was seeing the face of his elven lady.
His healthy arm came up and rested on my cheek. A faint smile curled the corners of his mouth and his eyes lit strangely. I sat frozen, not daring to deny him the vision. I searched desperately for something to tell him, something to soothe and calm this man who needed no such thing from anyone. He was lying here, fighting this infection, because he had assumed a terrible responsibility and the burden of it had weighed so much on his body because it could not reach so deep into his mind.
His hand was still on my cheek, barely touching my own sweaty, dust-covered face and the only words that came to me were the words that Legolas used to call me.
'Mellon nin..' I whispered to him, knowing somehow that whoever he was imagining would know that someone was there in his moment of need.
I sat next to him for a while, rinsing his face in with the athelas infusion until his breathing became steady and calm and his eyes closed in what looked like a more peaceful slumber.
Gandalf took his watch soon afterwards and I did not protest this time mostly because of the sudden weariness that had overcome me.
'You did good, Mel' I heard him say as I lay down. I knew he meant the time I had spent caring for Aragorn and I wondered, with a tinge of embarrassment, if he had seen Aragorn touching my face and how that might have appeared to him.
'Arwen would be indebted to you if she knew.' the wizards added. I smiled inwardly, no longer amazed at his ability to read my mind.
'Good night, Gandalf.'
TBC
A/N: So, interesting enough still? Ummm, yes, in case you are wondering, it will get worse. Well, it can only get worse from here…!
