Evil's Point 7
By SIHansonWeasleyGamgee
No, dear readers, I didn't fall off the face of the earth. Finally, I decided to get serious and write another chapter! Thanks so much to my reviewers—you guys are what keeps me writing! And in answer to Lirenel's question, the staff that Thranduil dropped is commonly called a scepter. It's a staff that symbloizes a king's rule. Without further ado, here is Chapter Seven of Evil's Point!! Enjoy!
Á auta, úmëa sangwa
Lá lávalyë ëa sinomë
Súcala i Peratano cuilë
A panta angaina quárella sí!*
So the healers of Rivendell sang over Pippin's bed. Two days had passed since the hobbits had arrived in Rivendell, and Pippin wasn't out of the woods yet. The first process the elves had tried to remove the poison hadn't worked. It still coursed through Pippin's veins, and Elrond wasn't sure how much more the little hobbit could take. So he'd made a cut on Pippin's arm, and with the other Rivendell healers, was performing a new, more difficult—and more dangerous—process to try to get the poison out.
The healers slowed and stopped their song, and Elrond touched a white cloth to the hobbit's bleeding arm. When he took the cloth away, mixed with the red of Pippin's blood was a black substance.
"The poison," Elrond confirmed to the three hobbits who sat in the corner, barely having left Pippin's room at all except to sleep. "This is a start. I shall widen the cut..." He picked up a shining Elven knife from the table as Merry gave a little whimper. Frodo placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. Sam turned away as the knife descended toward Pippin's little arm.
As the blade met its target, Pippin let out an anguished cry. Merry let out a cry in response to this, though his was short and shocked. Frodo's grip tightened on Merry's arm and he paled. Neither hobbit found they could tear their eyes from the horrible scene.
The healers now began to sing with more power. Ever louder and ever faster their voices blended, resonating through the room with such force it made the little hobbits tremble.
A entula i calanna, pityaquén
A mahta i úmëa túrë
A entula i vanimanna, pityaquén
Merammel er...*
The singing went on, for so long the hobbits lost track of time. Every so often, the Elves would use rags to soak up the blood and poison from Pippin's cut, rinse it with clear water, or smooth a poultice into it. All of a sudden, so quickly that Merry started, the singing stopped. Elrond was bending over close to Pippin.
"What's happened?" cried Merry. "What's going on?"
He was quickly shushed by an elf, who murmured, "My lord needs complete silence for this, master holblyta." As the hobbits watched nervously, Elrond's hands started to glow. As he closed his eyes, the glow got brighter and brighter, and seemed to enter Pippin, who began to glow as well. As the hobbits shaded their eyes, the elves began to sing again, more powerfully than they ever had before. Though they didn't know what was going on, Frodo, Merry and Sam could sense that this was what would keep their friend alive.
********
All three hobbits were asleep when Elrond gave his charge one last check and nodded to the elves. He sighed and sank down into a chair by Pippin's bedside as his elves surrounded him, inquiring softly if Pippin—and Elrond—would be all right.
Elrond gave a huge sigh. "I don`t know how, or why, but Pippin's body seems to be fighting against our cures. The poison is gone, but the hobbit is unconscious and incredibly ill. It must be some effect from the demon that bit him, for that beast was no wolf. No wolf could carry that potent a poison and live. And the hobbit bore the poison for days." He shook his head in disbelief. "I do not think he will die, but I am still concerned. He has a long way to go for recovery yet."
"And you, my lord?" an Elf asked.
"I had to give the hobbit some of my life force to keep him alive. It was a small amount. The weakness is a normal side effect from a procedure such as that. I will be fine."
"Still, you should rest, my lord," the Elf insisted. "That was no small healing."
"Oh, you're right," Elrond conceded, standing up. "I want regular reports on Peregrin. If his condition changes, you are to contact me." With a nod to the healers, he turned to go, then stopped. "Oh, and the three hobbits should be taken to their rooms." The elves bowed, and Elrond left the room.
**********
Later, as Frodo, who had awoken, lay in his bed at Rivendell, he heard a soft noise at his door. Squinting, he dimly saw it creak open, and heard a soft, timid voice whisper, "Frodo?"
"Merry?" Frodo whispered back. "Is that you?"
"Y-yes," Merry responded, stepping in and pulling the door shut behind him. A moonbeam fell on him, and Frodo, shocked, took in his trembling hands, his ghost-white skin, his eyes bright as if with tears.
"Whatever is the matter, cousin?" Frodo whispered, sitting up, scooting over and patting the bed next to him. Merry crossed to the bed and sat next to his cousin.
"I..." he murmured, and stopped. "Oh, this is stupid...I feel like such a tweenager..."
"What's wrong?" Frodo prompted softly, laying a hand on Merry's shoulder. "Was it a bad dream?" There was no trace of condesencion in Frodo's voice as he said this, him having experienced enough horrid dreams as an adult to understand what Merry must be going through.
Merry remained silent. "Was it Pippin?" Frodo asked.
"Yes," Merry admitted to both questions at once. "I...oh, Frodo, it was horrible! They—the Elves—their healing...it didn't work, and...Pippin, he..." Here Merry choked, and spat out the next two words with a sob. "He died..."
"Oh, Merry," Frodo murmured, squeezing his cousin's shoulder reassuringly.
"But that's not all," the poor hobbit sobbed. "His spirit, I think that's what it was, went to—Mordor—and then...he led the Dark Lord back, he led him to us, the Fellowship...and Sauron got his revenge..." Merry, overcome, buried his face in his hands, trembling all over with horror and sorrow.
Frodo heard all this grimly. He and Merry both knew, of course, that Sauron was vanquished, never to rise again, but...what if something WAS stirring in Mordor? What if a supporter of the Dark Lord was still around, and was after him and his friends?
Merry let out a huge sob, and Frodo, snapping out of his reverie, felt his heart crack. Scooting over, he wrapped the younger hobbit in a hug, attempting to comfort him. He felt Merry relax into the embrace, and waited for him to cry it out.
After a while, Merry's sobs slowed, and he pulled away from Frodo. Frodo reached for a handkerchief on his bedside table and passed it to Merry, who accepted it gratefully. When Merry felt he could talk again, he murmured, "Thank you, Frodo..."
"It was nothing, cousin," Frodo replied, giving Merry an encouraging smile. "You would've done the same for me."
Merry found himself reluctant to go back to his room, so Frodo, strongly reminded of his days at Brandy Hall, offered Merry a spot in the bed. Once Merry was settled in, he fell asleep almost immediately. Frodo, though, had too much eating at his mind to sleep just then. If it was not just a coincidence...if the Dark Lord was to rise again...He sighed and tried to put the ridiculous thoughts out of his mind.
When Frodo finally did get to sleep, his dreams were plagued with visions of a flaming Eye.
*The poem found in my fanfiction was translated into Elvish by Indûr Ambaran of the LOTR Plaza. The Plaza can be found at www.lotrplaza.com. It's a great messageboard for LOTR fans to roleplay, talk and have fun!
Translation of the two verses: Go away, evil poison
You are not allowed to be here
Drinking the Half-Man's life
Open your iron fist now!
Return to the light, little one
Fight the evil might
Return to the 'rightness', little one
We need you still.
By SIHansonWeasleyGamgee
No, dear readers, I didn't fall off the face of the earth. Finally, I decided to get serious and write another chapter! Thanks so much to my reviewers—you guys are what keeps me writing! And in answer to Lirenel's question, the staff that Thranduil dropped is commonly called a scepter. It's a staff that symbloizes a king's rule. Without further ado, here is Chapter Seven of Evil's Point!! Enjoy!
Á auta, úmëa sangwa
Lá lávalyë ëa sinomë
Súcala i Peratano cuilë
A panta angaina quárella sí!*
So the healers of Rivendell sang over Pippin's bed. Two days had passed since the hobbits had arrived in Rivendell, and Pippin wasn't out of the woods yet. The first process the elves had tried to remove the poison hadn't worked. It still coursed through Pippin's veins, and Elrond wasn't sure how much more the little hobbit could take. So he'd made a cut on Pippin's arm, and with the other Rivendell healers, was performing a new, more difficult—and more dangerous—process to try to get the poison out.
The healers slowed and stopped their song, and Elrond touched a white cloth to the hobbit's bleeding arm. When he took the cloth away, mixed with the red of Pippin's blood was a black substance.
"The poison," Elrond confirmed to the three hobbits who sat in the corner, barely having left Pippin's room at all except to sleep. "This is a start. I shall widen the cut..." He picked up a shining Elven knife from the table as Merry gave a little whimper. Frodo placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. Sam turned away as the knife descended toward Pippin's little arm.
As the blade met its target, Pippin let out an anguished cry. Merry let out a cry in response to this, though his was short and shocked. Frodo's grip tightened on Merry's arm and he paled. Neither hobbit found they could tear their eyes from the horrible scene.
The healers now began to sing with more power. Ever louder and ever faster their voices blended, resonating through the room with such force it made the little hobbits tremble.
A entula i calanna, pityaquén
A mahta i úmëa túrë
A entula i vanimanna, pityaquén
Merammel er...*
The singing went on, for so long the hobbits lost track of time. Every so often, the Elves would use rags to soak up the blood and poison from Pippin's cut, rinse it with clear water, or smooth a poultice into it. All of a sudden, so quickly that Merry started, the singing stopped. Elrond was bending over close to Pippin.
"What's happened?" cried Merry. "What's going on?"
He was quickly shushed by an elf, who murmured, "My lord needs complete silence for this, master holblyta." As the hobbits watched nervously, Elrond's hands started to glow. As he closed his eyes, the glow got brighter and brighter, and seemed to enter Pippin, who began to glow as well. As the hobbits shaded their eyes, the elves began to sing again, more powerfully than they ever had before. Though they didn't know what was going on, Frodo, Merry and Sam could sense that this was what would keep their friend alive.
********
All three hobbits were asleep when Elrond gave his charge one last check and nodded to the elves. He sighed and sank down into a chair by Pippin's bedside as his elves surrounded him, inquiring softly if Pippin—and Elrond—would be all right.
Elrond gave a huge sigh. "I don`t know how, or why, but Pippin's body seems to be fighting against our cures. The poison is gone, but the hobbit is unconscious and incredibly ill. It must be some effect from the demon that bit him, for that beast was no wolf. No wolf could carry that potent a poison and live. And the hobbit bore the poison for days." He shook his head in disbelief. "I do not think he will die, but I am still concerned. He has a long way to go for recovery yet."
"And you, my lord?" an Elf asked.
"I had to give the hobbit some of my life force to keep him alive. It was a small amount. The weakness is a normal side effect from a procedure such as that. I will be fine."
"Still, you should rest, my lord," the Elf insisted. "That was no small healing."
"Oh, you're right," Elrond conceded, standing up. "I want regular reports on Peregrin. If his condition changes, you are to contact me." With a nod to the healers, he turned to go, then stopped. "Oh, and the three hobbits should be taken to their rooms." The elves bowed, and Elrond left the room.
**********
Later, as Frodo, who had awoken, lay in his bed at Rivendell, he heard a soft noise at his door. Squinting, he dimly saw it creak open, and heard a soft, timid voice whisper, "Frodo?"
"Merry?" Frodo whispered back. "Is that you?"
"Y-yes," Merry responded, stepping in and pulling the door shut behind him. A moonbeam fell on him, and Frodo, shocked, took in his trembling hands, his ghost-white skin, his eyes bright as if with tears.
"Whatever is the matter, cousin?" Frodo whispered, sitting up, scooting over and patting the bed next to him. Merry crossed to the bed and sat next to his cousin.
"I..." he murmured, and stopped. "Oh, this is stupid...I feel like such a tweenager..."
"What's wrong?" Frodo prompted softly, laying a hand on Merry's shoulder. "Was it a bad dream?" There was no trace of condesencion in Frodo's voice as he said this, him having experienced enough horrid dreams as an adult to understand what Merry must be going through.
Merry remained silent. "Was it Pippin?" Frodo asked.
"Yes," Merry admitted to both questions at once. "I...oh, Frodo, it was horrible! They—the Elves—their healing...it didn't work, and...Pippin, he..." Here Merry choked, and spat out the next two words with a sob. "He died..."
"Oh, Merry," Frodo murmured, squeezing his cousin's shoulder reassuringly.
"But that's not all," the poor hobbit sobbed. "His spirit, I think that's what it was, went to—Mordor—and then...he led the Dark Lord back, he led him to us, the Fellowship...and Sauron got his revenge..." Merry, overcome, buried his face in his hands, trembling all over with horror and sorrow.
Frodo heard all this grimly. He and Merry both knew, of course, that Sauron was vanquished, never to rise again, but...what if something WAS stirring in Mordor? What if a supporter of the Dark Lord was still around, and was after him and his friends?
Merry let out a huge sob, and Frodo, snapping out of his reverie, felt his heart crack. Scooting over, he wrapped the younger hobbit in a hug, attempting to comfort him. He felt Merry relax into the embrace, and waited for him to cry it out.
After a while, Merry's sobs slowed, and he pulled away from Frodo. Frodo reached for a handkerchief on his bedside table and passed it to Merry, who accepted it gratefully. When Merry felt he could talk again, he murmured, "Thank you, Frodo..."
"It was nothing, cousin," Frodo replied, giving Merry an encouraging smile. "You would've done the same for me."
Merry found himself reluctant to go back to his room, so Frodo, strongly reminded of his days at Brandy Hall, offered Merry a spot in the bed. Once Merry was settled in, he fell asleep almost immediately. Frodo, though, had too much eating at his mind to sleep just then. If it was not just a coincidence...if the Dark Lord was to rise again...He sighed and tried to put the ridiculous thoughts out of his mind.
When Frodo finally did get to sleep, his dreams were plagued with visions of a flaming Eye.
*The poem found in my fanfiction was translated into Elvish by Indûr Ambaran of the LOTR Plaza. The Plaza can be found at www.lotrplaza.com. It's a great messageboard for LOTR fans to roleplay, talk and have fun!
Translation of the two verses: Go away, evil poison
You are not allowed to be here
Drinking the Half-Man's life
Open your iron fist now!
Return to the light, little one
Fight the evil might
Return to the 'rightness', little one
We need you still.