Author: Mirrordance
Title: The Plague
Summary: The Fellowship must reunite to save Middle-Earth again when Pippin unwittingly finds the legendary Pandora's box and opens it, releasing great evil upon the lands…
PART 4: "Return to the Shire"
___
The Shire
___
"Master Frodo…" Samwise muttered nervously, watching his friend bravely venture into the choppy waters of the river. It was deep in these parts, and busy. The current was harsh, the surface broken by waves sloshing against large and small jagged rocks. It was always cold as ice, though it never froze over because of the current. It was death to fall into its lethal arms, suicide to try swimming in it.
Suicide!
"I must say again this is not a very good idea," Sam called, though Frodo barely shot him a glance, as the hobbit stepped into the waters.
Sam sighed, looked at Merry, who was anxiously watching Frodo as well. To ensure that their friend would not be taken by the river, the two other hobbits stayed on the banks, anchoring Frodo with a rope about their waists.
"I was never a strong swimmer," Sam reflected nervously, "Neither was Master Frodo."
"That's what the rope is for," Merry said edgily, "Let us hope it holds, Sam."
"It's a good rope," Sam said.
"It's a strong river," commented Merry, sighing.
"Master Frodo's stronger," Sam commented, though his hand tightened on the rope.
He and Merry watched anxiously as Frodo dove into the water, his head vanishing under its surface. A minute later he raised his head to take a breath, then dived again.
The rope that held Frodo to the two hobbits was stretched taught, the river dragging Frodo along its harsh flow, and surely would have taken him to his death if his two friends did not struggle to keep their feet firmly planted upon the ground.
Frodo resurfaced, gasping, "I can't find
it!"
Sam stared at his friend worriedly,
"Come back to the banks now, Frodo. You
are cold already."
"Just a few times more," Frodo said, his voice shaking just a little, diving into the waters again.
The strong current was pulling Frodo further and further away from them, stretching the rope, pulling the two hobbits closer to the water.
"Frodo!" Merry yelled, "We could not hold on for much longer. Come back now."
As they were pulled closer and closer to the water's edge, the ground became less solid, muddy, slippery.
With a yelp, the two hobbits slid on the mud, and the rope that connected them to their friend in the water ultimately pulled at them, sending them into the wild current.
The water was stunningly cold, the river powerful. Too powerful, for a pair of hobbits who were weak swimmers, even in placid waters.
They struggled to swim, struggled to keep their heads above the water, struggled to head for shore… all to no avail. The freezing river had its clutches at them, and it was not going to let them go.
This is it, Sam thought wildly, Who'd have thought we would die ahead of Pippin after all…
Suddenly, as his lungs were burning, he felt strong arms wielding him up and holding him by the chest, pulling him towards the banks.
He gasped at the precious air, numb fingers tightening against the rope that connected him to Merry and Frodo. He would not be rescued without them.
Reaching the banks, he felt the arms encircle about him, anchoring him as several other men pulled on the rope, saving his two friends.
His vision was blurry, and he coughed out the frigid river water as a coat was placed over him, drying him and warming him. Pulled to safety beside him was Frodo and Merry, being treated similarly.
"There is another hobbit," said a familiar voice, tinged with anxiety and dread, "He must still be in the water!"
Sam gathered his wits about him as his eyes cleared, and he watched the King of Gondor stride towards the edge of the banks.
"N-no, S-s-strider!" he exclaimed, teeth chattering, "Th-there iss only three of us-s."
"They are so cold," the man holding him commented worriedly, the voice musical and known to him as well. Sam belatedly realizes that he was actually encased in the arms of the elf Legolas.
"Y-y-you c-came at the right time," Frodo managed from beside Sam, speaking to Aragorn, "As-s al-lways."
* * *
It was difficult enough for a man of normal stature to stand comfortably in Bilbo Baggins's hut, much more for a man of Aragorn or Legolas's exceptional heights.
As his troops made camp just outside, Aragorn and Legolas accompanied their hobbit-friends into the home, watching them as they warmed themselves before a roaring fireplace.
"Are you feeling better?" Aragorn asked.
"Much," Frodo replied with an uncomfortable smile.
"Where is Master Pippin?" Legolas asked quietly, feeling the question stifling the air.
"He is ill," Merry said, rising from his place before the fire, "You must see him."
"I got your letter and it was about a totally different matter," Aragorn said quietly, thinking the unthinkable… Was Pippin suffering from the plague that has broken Rohan?
"We believe they might be related," Frodo said, "The box that I wrote you of. Pippin threw it into the river. We thought it must be what is making him sick, so we wanted to retrieve it."
"For all the good it did us," Sam said glumly, "For all the good it did Pippin. Good thing Strider is here."
Legolas eyed Aragorn's barely-perceptible wince. The King burned with great passion and assurance, but he was constantly burdened by the hopes that people constantly rested upon him.
"We wish to see Pippin," Legolas said, and immediately, the anxious hobbits led him to the Took home. It did not surprise him that Pippin, lying upon his bed, was staring blankly and was unresponsive to them, unmoving. Heading straight for the hobbit's bedside, Legolas took his forearms and showed the marks upon them to Aragorn.
"Just like in Rohan," Aragorn said softly.
"How long has he been this way?" Legolas asked.
"A few days," Merry replied, "It started… well, he was a bit down about the creature that escaped from the box. And then he stopped wanting to eat—"
"Not even mushrooms," Sam added.
"—and then he stopped wanting to go out," continued Merry, "And then he stopped wanting to speak, and then he stopped wanting to rise altogether."
"It happens in stages," Legolas concluded quietly.
"Is anyone else in the Shire ill?" Aragorn inquired.
"None that we know of," Frodo replied, "And this is the Shire. News travels very quickly. If anyone were ill, everyone would know of it."
"That's good," Aragorn commented, as he examined Pippin. It was clear that the affliction was caused by the bite, and not mere contact from those who were ill. Otherwise Frodo, Sam and Merry would be ill as well, perhaps even Legolas. It was strange though, that the plague would ravage Rohan so, and take only one from the Shire…
"This disease has taken all of Rohan," Legolas murmured softly, undoubtedly thinking along the same lines as his old friend, "and yet aside from Master Took, no one else. This curse must really be meant for the race of men."
"What curse?" Frodo asked.
"We shall tell you later," Legolas murmured quietly in reply.
Aragorn looked up at Legolas, brows furrowing. What the elf said about the curse being aimed specifically at men made sense. Perhaps Pippin only got in the way because it was he who had opened the box. The gods were angry at men, no one else. That meant that Gondor was the next target.
"We must discover how to end this soon," Aragorn said gravely, "I will try to tend to Pippin with the athelas. Legolas, we need to find Gandalf."
"I shall speak to the trees and its birds," Legolas said with a nod, "They will ensure our message reaches Mithrandir. He always comes when he is needed."
* * *
True enough, by the end of their second day at the Shire, Gandalf arrives, borne by the beautiful Shadowfax. He heads at once to Pippin's room, where his old wise eyes rested on the poor hobbit and despaired for him.
"The trees have spoken to me of your message," he said to Legolas and Aragorn, who were also in the room with Merry, Sam and Frodo, making a crowd in the small space, but creating a warmth and homeliness to it, one that they all hoped would reach Pippin.
"Have you seen this condition before?" Aragorn asked.
Gandalf deigned to reply for the moment, looking at Pippin intently, watching his eyes, "Pippin has lost his heart."
"We think he was bitten by the last plague of Pandora's box," Legolas said, "does this make sense to you?"
"I've heard of it, yes," Gandalf replied thoughtfully, patting Pippin on the shoulder, "Fool of a Took," he said softly, though there was no irritation in his voice, only longing, and worry.
"And Rohan is similarly ailing," Aragorn said to the wizard, letting the unsaid hang in the air, that he was at a loss as to how to proceed.
"Where is the box?" Gandalf asked.
"Pippin threw it in the river," Merry answered miserably.
"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf exclaimed, forcefully this time. Everyone glanced at Pippin's still form as if he would react to it. He did not.
"There is no way to slay this plague," Gandalf said, "One can only encase it. And nothing could hold that evil but that box. We must act quickly. Not only does the plague act fast, it can bear children. That is why the plagues that were released long ago had so increased in number, making the capture of all of them impossible. We must recapture this final plague before it increases, or cause the fall of other cities."
"We need that box," Frodo deduced quietly, shuddering in remembrance of his earlier plight. That water had been too cold, too choppy. They had been fools to even consider it, then again there was no other way.
"The blasted box lies at the bottom of the river," Sam said, "if it hadn't been carried away. The water is freezing and wild, the river wide, the falls at its end lethal… it could be in the ocean by now for all we know!"
"There is one other box," Legolas said slowly, looking at Aragorn, "Exactly like Pandora's."
"Excellent!" exclaimed Sam, "Where might it be, Legolas?"
"In Moria."
--
A moment of disbelief.
--
Sam groaned, "Why must our paths constantly lead us that way?"
"I would not return there unless I needed to as well," reflected Aragorn, "Our strongest swimmers will comb the river a mile-long radius from where the box was tossed. If it does not lie anywhere there, only then shall we return to Moria."
* * *
By the third day of the wild search, it was glaringly clear that they would not find the box in this river.
The radius of the search has been extended and re-extended, combed and re-combed, yielding no box. All the men of Gondor had received from the experience were several near-deaths, overexposure to the cold, and extreme weariness.
The King himself had just pulled his tiring, freezing body from the river, sitting on the banks as Samwise wrapped a blanket about his wide shoulders. The hobbits from the neighborhood, though they had by now realized searching the water was beyond them, worked to keep the men warm with their blankets and food. Pippin was well-loved enough for his people to want to help in anything that could cure him, apart from the very fact that Hobbits had always been kind and hospitable.
"Thank you, thank you," Aragorn said, his teeth chattering. Frodo soon followed with a cup of broth that the King took gratefully, and immediately took a warming sip. The noontime sun was high in the air, but that water had a life of its own, a time of its own. Beside him, his men drank and rested and tried to warm themselves. Several of them had been excused from the search party already, because of the flu and bad head colds.
Gandalf sat on a rock along the banks, thoughtful.
"We won't find it here," he said quietly.
"That is coming to my attention, yes," said Aragorn wryly, wanting to laugh and wanting to scream. Yet as he always did, he held himself steady.
It is at this moment that Legolas waded towards the banks, soaking wet though he looked little-bothered by it. The only elf in the company, and blessed with the surreal resilience of his kin, he was their most ardent searcher. He stopped not for the cold or the setting sun, but mostly for Aragorn's request, only sometimes for weariness.
Sam handed Legolas a blanket, which he used only to dry himself. He sat beside Aragorn, and ran the thick blanket through his long hair. He undid the plaits in his hair, shook them dry, then pushed them back away from his face. Aragorn looked at him in amusement.
"Never un-presentable are you," Aragorn commented, keeping a straight face though his eyes danced.
Legolas smirked at him. "Thank you."
"Human custom usually dictates the return of a compliment," Aragorn teased.
Legolas looked at him deviously. "Hm. You tend to look like a wild man, but you swim well."
Aragorn find the heart to chuckle, despite their dire circumstances.
They fell to an affable silence, looking over at the activities of the men who were still in the water, and going in and out of it.
"When do we go to Moria?" Legolas asked, deducing as Gandalf had that they probably not find the box here.
"We shall search til day's end," replied Aragorn, "then I will give our men two days to recuperate and gather their strength."
Legolas nodded, paused as he weighed his words. "I wish to send for Gimli. I do not want to enter any cave without a dwarf's astute familiarity with them."
"I shall send a rider out at first light tomorrow," Aragorn said, "to convey our message to Gimli. They can meet us at the entrance of the mine."
* * *
The road from the Shire to Moria was long and tedious.
Although times no longer presented the same dangers as in the height of the Dark Lord Sauron's power years ago, the uruk-hai and various other vile creatures that were raised and created for evil purposes then, had scattered all across Middle-Earth. Hungry, vindictive, bloodthirsty creatures still roamed the length of the Earth, and the company never let their guard down.
Some of Aragorn's men had been left to the capable hands of the Hobbits to recuperate. While some had been absent, they had new troops join in their place: namely, that of the valiant hobbits Frodo, Sam and Merry. While hesitant to leave Pippin's side, they had eventually decided that they can best help their friend by going on the quest and leaving him to the care of his family.
The company made for a compact unit of Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf and the three hobbits along with about ten of Aragorn's soldiers. Not too small a group and certainly not too big. Enough to do the job, surely. They had all hoped to be in and out of Moria in good time.
Aragorn rode point, alongside Gandalf, who bore Frodo with him on Shadowfax, and Legolas upon Arod. Merry and Sam shared a small steed behind them, and were navigating their way with fair skill, chatting amicably with the soldiers who shared their pace.
"Have you been to Moria?" Merry asked.
"No, we have not," the soldier replied.
"We have," Merry said proudly, though his stance faltered some as he reflected, "I'm quite proud of it. But it's only because I didn't think we would ever have to return."
"Well we all do what we must," Sam said wistfully.
TO BE CONTINUED…
PREVIEW OF PART 5: "The Road to Moria":
The company gets a close encounter with the evil plague as it sinks its teeth into one who is very important to them…
A SCENE FROM PART 5:
~Do not even breathe, Estel.~
Aragorn stayed as still as he could. Legolas was not even on the first watch, he was supposed to be resting, but Aragorn trusted the elf without bounds and did as he was told.
Suddenly, he felt his breath knock out of him when Legolas jumped from his bedroll and against him, the elf's hands clutching at his chest as the elf rolled them both away from where Aragorn had been laying. Then Legolas raised himself to his knees, bow and arrow already on hand, his eyes searching for something. He released his arrow, and a strange, piercing squawking was heard, followed by a terrible odor, and the sound of wings flapping away.
By now the entire company was roused and aware, nervously looking around them.
"What was it?" Aragorn asked, though from the look of Legolas's face, he had already guessed.
"It was the lizard," Legolas replied, trying to steady his nerves, lowering his bow. He had smelled the foul odor first, then felt the creature as it crept towards Aragorn's arm.
"Did you hit it?" Aragorn asked, raising himself from the ground. His adrenaline was pumping. It had come to me so close…
"I believe so," Legolas replied, "But it did not do much good. Gandalf did say they could not be slain, only captured."
"Are you all right, Sire?" one of Aragorn's men asked.
"Yes," the King replied, and Aragorn looked towards Legolas for counsel. The elf nodded, giving the signal that the creature had left, they were clear for now. "Stand down," Aragorn commanded, and weapons were lowered, "It is gone."
Slowly, they all returned to their positions before the attack. But without a doubt, no one would sleep a wink, if they could help it.
Aragorn laid upon his bedroll, watching the moonlight which now brought less comfort to him.
Legolas, beside Aragorn was rubbing his forearm nervously, his face also turned towards the stars.
"Thank you, my friend," Aragorn said suddenly.
The elf started, jumped from his reverie. He flashed Aragorn a quick smile, "Of course. Think nothing of it."…