XX.a.
(NOTE: I had started this chapter, and had it plotted out, but then decided it didn't fit well at this point in the story, so I abandoned it. When I told Marigold about it and showed her what bits I had, she encouraged me to finish it, especially as I still envisioned these events happening in the Falcon storyline. I posted it some time ago on my Journal and now am adding it here. It takes place between chapters 20 and 21. It should be noted that Marigold wrote a sizable portion of this chapter, almost the entirety of Aragorn's exposition about Merry and Pippin, from where Frodo implores him to tell of what has happened to his cousins through Frodo asking, "And what now?" Many thanks to her -- there are some particularly moving passages in there that she should be proud of.)
Frodo and Sam, not surprisingly, slept late, and when they woke, Gandalf was at hand and the table was laid with a tempting array of fruits and breads. The simple food was heavenly to the two hobbits, and they ate their fill while Gandalf served them tea. Finally, Frodo pushed back from the table with a groan.
I could not eat another bite, he declared, though in truth he had not eaten that much. Sam continued to make a valiant effort at emptying his plate, but it was clear that after their near-starvation it would be some time before either was able to eat what a healthy hobbit would consider a full meal at one sitting.
Wise to the ways of hobbits, Gandalf unobtrusively slid a small plate with bite-sized bits of fruit on it toward Frodo's elbow, and smiled to himself a moment later when Frodo absent-mindedly put a piece in his mouth after sipping at his tea. So, Gandalf, Frodo said, are we free hobbits today? Is anything required of us? I should like to spend some time with Merry and Pippin.
A shadow flickered across Gandalf's face, and he hesitated before opening his mouth to answer. Frodo cut him off.
The Ringbearer was suddenly gripping the edge of the table fiercely, his whole body tense with worry. Sam froze with a fork halfway to his mouth. What has happened? What is wrong with the lads?
Gandalf's voice was measured and soothing. Nothing so dire as to upset you. Pippin has developed an infection in that broken hand and will likely be in his bed for several days. Aragorn has treated him already this morning, and he is well looked after. You may see him when you are ready, but I saw no need --
The wizard stopped speaking as Frodo stood up, his face white with fury and taut with distress. Without a word, he turned and left the tent.
Sam set the fork down and looked reproachfully at Gandalf. Now, sir, he said chidingly, you shouldn't ought to have kept something like that from Mr. Frodo, not even for a moment, and certainly not when it's Mr. Pippin. You know how he and Mr. Merry go on about that lad. I'd best go after him. And Sam bolted after his master.
Gandalf sighed. I don't suppose either one of them have any idea where they're going, he said to himself, and exited the tent.
He did indeed find Frodo and Sam standing just outside their tent, at a complete loss as to how to locate their fellow hobbits. Properly chastised, Gandalf guided them to the correct tent and ushered them in.
Pippin, pale but for a red flush across his cheeks, was tucked into his cot. There was fresh, bulky bandaging swathed about his injured hand and a sheen of sweat on the tween-ager's face, and he appeared somewhat restless, moving his legs uneasily. Legolas was bent over the youngster, stroking his curls and murmuring something softly. Frodo's eyes fixed on his young cousin and no further; he crossed the tent quickly and took Pippin's good hand in his own.
Hush, Pippin-lad, he said tenderly, placing a hand on Pippin's cheek. Hush now, dearest, you are all right. Go to sleep; Frodo's here.
Pippin sighed and his movements stilled. His breathing changed a moment later and he began to sleep deeply. Frodo leaned in and kissed his brow, frowning as he felt the heat rising from Pippin's skin. Legolas smiled at the older hobbit.
Hello, Frodo, he whispered. I wish you would teach me such tricks; I cannot tell you how many hours I have spent in the last few weeks soothing this one to sleep.
I cannot tell you how many hours I have spent in my lifetime soothing this one to sleep, Frodo murmured, eyes still fixed on Pippin's face. He was the fussiest baby and little lad; you had to wear him down until you were near ready to collapse yourself. So completely unlike Merry. He straightened and looked about the tent, frowning. Where is Merry?
Legolas moved out of Frodo's line of sight and gestured to a nearby cot where Merry, fully clothed, was sleeping heavily. Frodo's frown deepened. Is he ill, too, or just worn out? If Pippin kept him up last night, I wish someone had sent for me to help.
He had a stressful morning, said a low voice behind Frodo, and a gentle hand descended upon his shoulder. The hobbit turned to find Aragorn behind him, Gimli hovering a few steps back. Come, let them rest. Let us step outside where we can speak.
Frodo let his gaze linger over his young cousins for a few more minutes, then turned and left the tent. Sam had hung back near the entrance, looking from Pippin to Merry to Frodo with worried eyes, and now he followed Frodo outside. Gandalf, also near the entrance, joined them as Aragorn said something in a low voice to Legolas and Gimli before also exiting.
Frodo sat on the ground and drew his legs up, resting his arms on his knees and staring fixedly at his feet. he said in a voice that was quiet yet commanding.
The king sat across from him as Sam seated himself beside his master. Gandalf remained standing. Yes, Frodo, Aragorn said softly.
I need you to tell me everything that has happened. To both of them, Frodo said, and his voice brooked no argument. Not my cousins' half-truths and insistences that they have endured naught of any real consequence. Do not coddle me -- I would hear it all. I must know, he ended, and his voice was nearly desperate.
Aragorn did not object, but simply began his narrative, starting with the Uruk-hai and the injuries the younger hobbits had suffered at their hands. He told first how Boromir had sought to protect Merry and Pippin, continuing to fight even after he had been pierced with many of their evil black arrows. Eventually he had fallen, mortally wounded, yet managed to hold on to life long enough to let Aragorn know that he thought Merry and Pippin lived still, spurring the three remaining members of the Fellowship to follow the foul creatures in an attempt to save them.
Except in his tearful praise of Boromir, Merry had chosen his words with care when asked later about what had happened but Aragorn had seen through his veiled telling of their tale and had no doubt of how bravely he and Pippin had fought alongside Boromir, and he told Frodo and Sam of their deeds. After Boromir had fallen the younger hobbits were soon overcome by the sheer numbers of the enemy that sought to lay hands upon them. Pippin had no memory of the blow that had finally felled him. Merry had seen his young kinsman struck to the ground in a sea of orcs and had battled furiously to reach him, the sight of a filthy Uruk–hai lifting Pippin with clawed hands his last memory before his head had exploded with pain and he knew no more.
So that then is the brown scar upon Merry's brow? Frodo asked quietly. The one that he tries so hard to keep covered with his curls.
Yes. Likely it will not fade with time. I am not that familiar with the healing techniques of orc-kind, however, so I could be mistaken, but I have seen a very few rescued captives of the creatures who had been injured and treated in a similar fashion, and their scars do not fade.
Frodo took a deep breath, and forced himself to ask the next question.
Aragorn, I have heard much of what orcs do to their captives, Sam put his arm around Frodo in support, and while, thanks to Sam, I was not in their hands long enough . . .
He could not continue, but Aragorn leaned forward and put a reassuring hand on the Ringbearer's knee. Your brave cousins will not speak much of the hardships they endured while they were in the hands of the foul creatures, Frodo, but I have questioned them both, and they reassure me they did not suffer any such abuse. Additionally, they have each been in my care while unconscious and I took it upon myself to examine them for such . . . injuries . . . to set my own fears at rest. You do not have to fear such as . . . that . . . was inflicted upon them.
They were, however, treated roughly indeed. The marks from the ropes still show on Merry's wrists, and only time will tell if those scars will fade. You have heard the tale in part of how Pippin managed to free his hands -- he endured some whip wheals, payment for running away from the trail to drop the token which let Gimli, Legolas and I know that we did not follow a vain hope. The memory of the terror they endured for those days will not leave them, I am afraid, for many years if at all, though they make light of it. Would that we could have come to them sooner. Aragorn shook his head in regret.
But if you had, my friend, the Ents would not have been roused and Isengard not laid waste, and the outcome of this war would have been far different. Gandalf said. It is hard indeed to bear the pain of our friends and those we love, but it was Meriadoc and Peregrin who ultimately brought about the downfall of Saruman. The wizard smiled. I shall have to be gentler next time I am forced to haul the rapscallions about by their ears. But it has not been his captivity with the orcs that has troubled Pippin the most. There is the matter of the palantir.
As gently as he could, Gandalf spoke of the intrusion into Pippin's mind by Sauron himself while Frodo and Sam listened in horror. Frodo got up to pace, trying to control his distress at the thought of the Dark Lord touching the mind of the sweet young cousin he had seen grow from infancy. Frodo took several deep breaths and finally sat again, as Gandalf continued. I was forced to separate the lads then, which I was loath to do, but I feared for Pippin's safety. He missed Merry terribly in Minas Tirith, but rose above his fears and served Gondor well, saving Faramir, a tale which you heard told the other eve. And it proved well that Merry stayed behind to ride with the Rohirrim.
Aragorn took up the tale again then, speaking of Merry secretly riding into battle with Éowyn, herself in disguise as a Rider of the Mark. Frodo, already nearly overwhelmed, showed almost no reaction until Aragorn had proceeded so far as Merry's confrontation with the Witch King at the Battle of the Pelennor, and then he covered his face with his hands. Sam put a comforting hand on his master's back, and Aragorn hesitated while Sam spoke softly, awed.
I know, Mr. Frodo. Those creatures nearly struck me dead with fear just them being around us that night on Weathertop, and even hearing one of them scream could almost make my heart stop in terror no matter how many times I heard it . . . and here our Merry set his blade to one. He surely is your kin, sir. He looked thoughtful for a moment, counting on his fingers. I wonder . . . do you remember, Mr. Frodo, that morning where we got our bit of light and the Ringwraith flew over and was screaming something fierce but it didn't frighten us for once; it was more like it was bad frightened itself?
I remember, Sam. Frodo uncovered his face and looked up. You asked me about hope. I could not find any then, but you did.
That I did. And it seems Mr. Merry gave me that hope. I shall have to thank him one day, when the memory of what he done isn't so near. And what of the lady who Mr. Merry helped, Strider? The Lady Éowyn you said, King Éomer's sister. Is she doing well?
She is, Sam. She has chosen to remain in Minas Tirith rather than accept Éomer's invitation to join us here, according to Merry, to stay near to Lord Faramir. He gave Sam a wink, and Sam smiled back.
Should I go on now? Aragorn asked, and Frodo took a deep breath and nodded. The High King told them then of the near loss of Merry in the Houses of Healing, and of calling him back, though only barely.
As Sam has said, even nearness to the Wraith Lord evoked such terror that it would cause madness to most or even death from fear to some. That we escaped even as we did from Weathertop was amazing to me, though I said naught at the time. The survival of the four of you, with your sanity intact, despite that you were wounded, Frodo, spoke much to me of the unguessed bravery of hobbits.
But to strike one with a sword! The shock of facing such a foe and actually setting a blade to that undead flesh was enough in itself to kill. That Merry and Éowyn survived even long enough to be borne into the City is still a marvel to me, and Merry walked there on his own two legs! As I said when I was brought to them, they are both sterner than steel itself.
Merry is largely recovered now, though I have no doubt that you have noticed the problems he has with his right arm and hand. I do not know if they will ever heal completely but they are improving, and I have given him exercises that I think are helping him to have better control of his fingers. Merry is very faithful at practicing them, especially with all of us, and no doubt you two now as well, reminding him constantly. As Sam said, Frodo, Merry surely is your kin. And I wonder if Sam is not kin to you himself for his own bravery is no less than yours.
His voice softened. And so is my valiant young Knight of Gondor your kin. Are you able now to hear me speak of Pippin? I know you are distressed, Frodo, but you wished to hear it all, and I would wish you to know that which your cousins have borne, as I know that they shall never speak of these things to you themselves. We can continue this later, though, if you have need of rest. He looked at Frodo closely, who was obviously very shaken, and glanced too at Sam, nearly as pale as Frodo.
No, Aragorn. I would know everything now; then I will sit with Pippin for a bit and rest then. Please continue. Frodo braced himself to listen to the latest hurts that had befallen his youngest cousin.
Aragorn told them of Pippin riding with the small group that had ridden to the parley before the very Gates of Mordor, and of the grim news delivered by the Mouth of Sauron that brought them all to despair, but had not caused them to bow in defeat. He spoke of Pippin's placing himself in the very front rank of soldiers, and of his saving of Beregond almost at the cost of his own life. His own voice trembled then, remembering how he had felt thinking that they had lost Pippin to death in the battle.
For the rest of that day, and throughout the night and into the next day Gimli and Legolas searched for him. I had no more hope . . . and then Gimli came running to me with the news that he had found Pippin, buried under the body of the great beast that my little knight had slew in defense of his comrade, and that Legolas said that there was life in him still. Aragorn himself felt his eyes were damp with tears at the memory and he had to stop for a moment, then he steadied his voice and continued.
Picking up where he had left off, Aragorn continued until he had described Gimli's discovery of Pippin and his initial condition. He managed to haltingly detail Pippin's initial injuries, and what had been done to save him, up to when he had left him in the care of Legolas and Gimli, at which point Frodo abruptly jumped to his feet, eyes wild.
Stop! Stop! he cried shrilly. I cannot bear it! He took a deep, gulping breath that was more of a sob. I cannot bear it, he repeated, and his voice cracked.
Before Sam could gain his feet, Gandalf had knelt and enfolded Frodo in his arms. My dear hobbit, he said, and his voice was a sea of regret.
Aragorn stood and walked away a bit, but not so far that he could not still detect Frodo's weeping. When it had slackened, he wiped away his own tears and returned, not failing to notice that Sam's eyes were damp and red as well. Frodo sat again, calmer now. He fixed Aragorn with clear eyes. he ordered, and with a nod, Aragorn did.
He continued through the move to Ithilien, Merry's arrival, Pippin's close call when he had begun to bleed inside, the discovery of the torn muscle in his leg, how well the ribs were healing, and his earlier fear for Pip's eyesight and the resulting loss of the peripheral vision in one eye. Then he spoke about Pippin's poor hand.
The king took his narrative up through that morning's treatment of Pippin, Frodo now staying quiet and steady throughout, though Sam began to silently cry when he learned that Aragorn had had to rebreak Pippin's fingers. When he finished, Frodo asked quietly, And what now?
We must wait and see, Aragorn said. My greatest fear is that the infection from the hand has spread to his blood -- if this has happened, Aragorn paused for the briefest of breaths, it could make him seriously ill. If we have avoided that complication, then I expect he will heal in his own time, though I will make no predictions about his future use of that hand. For the immediate future, I want to keep him quiet and in bed for several days, at least, certainly until the fever has broken. It will help his other injuries as well -- I know his abdomen is still sore, and his ribs were hurting him quite a lot on your feast day. Perhaps I have erred in allowing him abroad at all so early, but he had made such improvement, and his heart was so set on being at the feast that I had not the heart to forbid it.
Frodo shook his head. You did not err, he said seriously. You have saved both their lives, Aragorn, and I cannot tell you what that means to me. If we had returned, and I had found -- if I had woke and learned -- He could not continue, swallowing hard and blinking back tears.
Aragorn reached for Frodo's good hand and enclosed it in one of his. It is nothing to what you have done for all of us, Frodo, he said. And I acted out of great selfishness, for I have come to love them both dearly.
Frodo nodded, and squeezed Aragorn's hand before letting go. He stood and went inside the tent. Sam stood as well, but before he followed Frodo inside, he stopped before Aragorn.
I know you love them, but I know there's not many a friend that would do such, tracking them all that way and saving Mr. Merry in Minas Tirith and even today, staying with Mr. Pippin when I know you're so busy, Sam said. Mr. Frodo won't never forget it, sir, and nor will I.
Aragorn nodded gravely and Sam nodded back before disappearing inside the tent. Are you all right? Gandalf asked the king quietly. Aragorn stood and brushed himself off.
No honor I will ever see will mean so much to me as the respect of one gardener from the Shire, was the High King's answer.
And such is what will allow you to rule well over the reunited kingdom, Gandalf replied in all seriousness. Though I would warn you once again about taking Tooks into your employment.
Aragorn straightened his surcoat. Just because you have never been able to control them does not mean it cannot be done, he said mildly. Perhaps in this matter the student will best the teacher.
Gandalf said dryly, and joined the king in following the hobbits back into the tent.
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