CHAPTER FIVE
Frodo was wracked with pain as he looked desperately at his friend, holding his shoulders. "Merry! Spit it out! You mustn't eat it."
Merry stared at Frodo, a queer sort of smile on the edge of his lips. Poor Frodo had taken too long to fight the shadows…for his cousin had already swallowed. The expression on his friend's face indicated that he was aware that something was happening. That he might be facing his death. "Well Frodo.." he coughed, pounding his chest once with a slight fist. He had swallowed already, there was no way to stop what was about to happen. "Well.. You'll….You'll keep an eye on Pippin…won't you?" His eyes were beginning to cloud over, his skin was becoming wretchedly cold, cracking a little around his face. He started to gasp for breath, as though he was dreadfully thirsty.
"Of course I will, but do not talk like that!" Frodo cried. "Merry…please don't let it take you…" Sadly, there was not enough pleading in this world that could stop the inevitable. Merry's eyes lost site of reality, and the younger hobbit's body collapsed into his elder cousin's arms, unmoving. Frodo's eyes filled with tears as he tried to shake Merry out of the trance he had seemed to fall into. "Merry!" His eyes were too bright and his skin was like ice, but his heart was solidly beating, the only sound louder than his own. Was it really too late? What game was afoot here? Frodo's eyes blazed with anger as he turned to the wraith. "What have you done to him!?!" His plaintive voice spat.
The elleth's gaze sparkled with a dire light as she studied the Ringbearer. "I have simply given him a taste of what it would be like to be you should the One Ring consume you…to help him to make his choice." she steps back. "I have given him what he wanted; the help he needed to make his choice when the time comes." she places her own hands together. "And so in return…he will set me free at last."
"What do you mean..." Frodo cried, gathering Merry in his arms protectively despite the pain that laced through his small body. "I don't understand…" he felt his friend's cheeks anxiously. They remained pale and cold, almost lifeless, his beating heart fading with every passing moment. "Fight it…" he begged Merry helplessly. But who was Frodo to tell someone to struggle against the powers of darkness? He could barely help himself let alone help another to fight the shadows. He was no teacher, he was not Gandalf. He had barely enough strength to lift Merry up. How was he going to help Merry? He looked up in anguish….Merry's head gently fell against his shoulder.
The table that had held the food of souls vanished first. All that remained was the tomato that Merry had bitten into. It lay on the ground for a moment, and then collapsed into a dark mass of writhing worms, scuttling away into the shadows. As Frodo watched, the Wraith began to fade. "Soon…" she nodded grimly, her essence swirling back into the vase…. "There's not much time left…not much time at all."
Tears fell from Frodo's eyes as he gazed down at his friend. He couldn't lose him…not so soon after Gandalf. If he failed Merry, how could he go on? How could he continue to fight as every one of his friends fell around him? Merry began to shiver, an wind of ice passed through both of them and he knew that his friend was struggling. Was there a way to help him? He was a lot stronger in the shadow realm though it filled him with fear and terror. Here in Lorien, the eye could not see him. He could lift Merry and take him away. But...this would mean putting on the ring and going into that realm again. That would mean… willingly going up against the shadows. He drew the ring from its chain out of his pocket and eyed it. It was what the enemy wanted. She wasn't Sauron though, she wasn't one of them. Perhaps he could deal with her on her own level.
He struggled, trying to think of something else…anything else. He didn't want put it on again so soon after the last time. The shadows servants of the Elleth had taken more from him than he could replenish in so short a time. On the other hand, if he did not, Merry might die? Merry would become a wraith if he failed in this, something he coudl not allow. The Elleth's words rang in his head, and he took slow, easy breaths, attempting to prepare himself. There was nothing else that he could do, for there was no way he coudl get help in time even if he knew how to. This time he woudl have to rely on himself and his own wits.
His resolve began to fail as he tried to talk himself out of it. Fear gripped his heart, refusing to let go, he didn't want to put on the ring. Every time he did, it caught him deeper and deeper, spiraling him down into the realm of darkness. He didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to resist it. It seemed to feed off of his confusion, off of his resolve and off of his very soul. It warred with everything good within him.
He began to clear his mind, trying to think of only good things. He tried hard to find the light in the darkness, to find the reason why this was happening. This time, it was elusive, and just out of reach. He remembered Gandalfs words about dong something with the time that you have. He could not fail Merry. It was when the wizards words came to him that he heard Merry begin to cough, as though he was trying desperately to breathe. A twisted expression upon his face seemed to indicate that something was trying to strangle him. Time was up. He looked down at the ring and grimaced, slipping it on.
When that moment came, the shadows rose all around him again, claiming dominance over the light, save for one thing. Frodo was going to remain true to Merry, like all the members of the Fellowship did for him. Even Boromir, for Frodo was finally beginning to understand the way the ring could drive you mad.
To Be Continued…
Frodo was wracked with pain as he looked desperately at his friend, holding his shoulders. "Merry! Spit it out! You mustn't eat it."
Merry stared at Frodo, a queer sort of smile on the edge of his lips. Poor Frodo had taken too long to fight the shadows…for his cousin had already swallowed. The expression on his friend's face indicated that he was aware that something was happening. That he might be facing his death. "Well Frodo.." he coughed, pounding his chest once with a slight fist. He had swallowed already, there was no way to stop what was about to happen. "Well.. You'll….You'll keep an eye on Pippin…won't you?" His eyes were beginning to cloud over, his skin was becoming wretchedly cold, cracking a little around his face. He started to gasp for breath, as though he was dreadfully thirsty.
"Of course I will, but do not talk like that!" Frodo cried. "Merry…please don't let it take you…" Sadly, there was not enough pleading in this world that could stop the inevitable. Merry's eyes lost site of reality, and the younger hobbit's body collapsed into his elder cousin's arms, unmoving. Frodo's eyes filled with tears as he tried to shake Merry out of the trance he had seemed to fall into. "Merry!" His eyes were too bright and his skin was like ice, but his heart was solidly beating, the only sound louder than his own. Was it really too late? What game was afoot here? Frodo's eyes blazed with anger as he turned to the wraith. "What have you done to him!?!" His plaintive voice spat.
The elleth's gaze sparkled with a dire light as she studied the Ringbearer. "I have simply given him a taste of what it would be like to be you should the One Ring consume you…to help him to make his choice." she steps back. "I have given him what he wanted; the help he needed to make his choice when the time comes." she places her own hands together. "And so in return…he will set me free at last."
"What do you mean..." Frodo cried, gathering Merry in his arms protectively despite the pain that laced through his small body. "I don't understand…" he felt his friend's cheeks anxiously. They remained pale and cold, almost lifeless, his beating heart fading with every passing moment. "Fight it…" he begged Merry helplessly. But who was Frodo to tell someone to struggle against the powers of darkness? He could barely help himself let alone help another to fight the shadows. He was no teacher, he was not Gandalf. He had barely enough strength to lift Merry up. How was he going to help Merry? He looked up in anguish….Merry's head gently fell against his shoulder.
The table that had held the food of souls vanished first. All that remained was the tomato that Merry had bitten into. It lay on the ground for a moment, and then collapsed into a dark mass of writhing worms, scuttling away into the shadows. As Frodo watched, the Wraith began to fade. "Soon…" she nodded grimly, her essence swirling back into the vase…. "There's not much time left…not much time at all."
Tears fell from Frodo's eyes as he gazed down at his friend. He couldn't lose him…not so soon after Gandalf. If he failed Merry, how could he go on? How could he continue to fight as every one of his friends fell around him? Merry began to shiver, an wind of ice passed through both of them and he knew that his friend was struggling. Was there a way to help him? He was a lot stronger in the shadow realm though it filled him with fear and terror. Here in Lorien, the eye could not see him. He could lift Merry and take him away. But...this would mean putting on the ring and going into that realm again. That would mean… willingly going up against the shadows. He drew the ring from its chain out of his pocket and eyed it. It was what the enemy wanted. She wasn't Sauron though, she wasn't one of them. Perhaps he could deal with her on her own level.
He struggled, trying to think of something else…anything else. He didn't want put it on again so soon after the last time. The shadows servants of the Elleth had taken more from him than he could replenish in so short a time. On the other hand, if he did not, Merry might die? Merry would become a wraith if he failed in this, something he coudl not allow. The Elleth's words rang in his head, and he took slow, easy breaths, attempting to prepare himself. There was nothing else that he could do, for there was no way he coudl get help in time even if he knew how to. This time he woudl have to rely on himself and his own wits.
His resolve began to fail as he tried to talk himself out of it. Fear gripped his heart, refusing to let go, he didn't want to put on the ring. Every time he did, it caught him deeper and deeper, spiraling him down into the realm of darkness. He didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to resist it. It seemed to feed off of his confusion, off of his resolve and off of his very soul. It warred with everything good within him.
He began to clear his mind, trying to think of only good things. He tried hard to find the light in the darkness, to find the reason why this was happening. This time, it was elusive, and just out of reach. He remembered Gandalfs words about dong something with the time that you have. He could not fail Merry. It was when the wizards words came to him that he heard Merry begin to cough, as though he was trying desperately to breathe. A twisted expression upon his face seemed to indicate that something was trying to strangle him. Time was up. He looked down at the ring and grimaced, slipping it on.
When that moment came, the shadows rose all around him again, claiming dominance over the light, save for one thing. Frodo was going to remain true to Merry, like all the members of the Fellowship did for him. Even Boromir, for Frodo was finally beginning to understand the way the ring could drive you mad.
To Be Continued…