Medical Disclaimer: Although extensive research has been utilized, the medical procedures and medicinal cures are used solely for fiction, please do not try this at home.
Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 6
Frodo had staggered along the curving sixth level of Minas Tirith using the wall to help him, for perhaps twenty five feet. He heard footsteps approaching and sought out another piece of statuary to secret himself. He slumped down behind the base of the statue, completely exhausted. As he sat there the guards paused frequently to search amongst the pillars, bushes and abandoned gardens for the Ringbearer and then slowly moved on down the circle. Frodo was panting -- he was so hot, runnels of sweat ran down his face, getting in his eyes. He brushed them aside leaving bloody smears in there place. He was so tired. He lay down on his side to rest a bit. Immediately convulsing as he did so. This had been the third time his body had been racked violently with the fever indused convulsions, increasing the now throbbing pain in his head. He retched again and whipered loudly as he did so. The guards paused in their descent and looked back up the incline.
"I heard something," said one. "It seemed to come from back up that way. Let's go back and search that area again," he said pointing up at the area where Frodo was hiding. Frodo heard this clearly and in a panic, curled himself into a tiny ball, wrapping the cloak he had been given in Lorien tightly around himself, even covering his head. The guards came stealthily towards his hiding place with their torches and scanned the ground and surrounding area. Frodo held his breath, sure that the orc search party would soon discover him and drag him back to his dungeon. The cloak was woven so as to render the wearer all but invisible except under the very closest scrutiny. Frodo could hear the orc not a pace away from him and could see the light moving back and forth through the cloth of the cloak.
"Nothin'. I don't see nothin. Musta' been some kinda animal," said the orc.
"Aye, rats probably. Let's move on. The King is expectin' results and so far we have naught to give him," said the second orc.
They resumed their search moving towards the lower levels. Frodo slowly lowered the cloak and let out a slow sigh. He crawled wobbily around the statue and peered down the pathway. He looked in the opposite direction and once again, began his ascent of 'Orodruin'. He had found with each successive fit he had become weaker and weaker until now he was forced to crawl, scrapping his hands and knees until they were a bloody pulp. He didn't notice the pain so much anymore and his eyes took on a glassy stare. His body moved without his conscious effort, as if by instinct. His mind wandered to thoughts of Sam and the others. The ring had retreated briefly from his mind, growing strangely quiet. This mystified him as the constant calling of the ring had been so prevalent in the past weeks and months, but he was grateful for the reprieve all the same.
Over the next hour he crawled twenty five more feet, constantly being forced to hide as more orc hunting parties came and went along the roadway. Finally he heard the sound of water. The bubbling sound was coming from one of the many wide spots along his path. He crawled in that direction. It was a pond with a small waterfall trickling down into it from rocks set above it. Although he knew not to drink of the water while in Mordor, his parched body felt differently and he was helpless to stop himself. He crawled over the edge of the pond and lay down in the cool water, drinking in desperate great gulps as he did so. He lay there, pleasantly floating on his back for sometime, drinking his fill and then crawled back over the edge and rested on the ground. Suddenly cramps seized his empty stomach and he retched most of the water onto the pavement. He was completely soaked through and, coupled with the breeze and his fever, he began to shake violently. He groaned, his teeth chattering, trying to right himself. After many tries he managed to crawl back to the roadway.
More
orcs were passing and he crouched behind a tall bush making
himself all but invisible to the rat like eyes of the enemy.
He
continued to shake violently but continued to move along the edge of
the roadway until he collapsed in a small ditch not ten feet from where
he had last stopped. He curled into a ball, wrapping his wet
cloak about him, trying to draw some fragment of warmth from the
dripping garment back into his body. He lost consciousness,
falling into a deep sleep where orcs were everywhere, searching for him
and the ring, until finally he was cornered in a black maze that had no
exit.
As Gandalf, Aragorn and Sam left the healers, Gandalf began to quietly ask the small gardner for information he hoped would lead them to Frodo.
"Sam. Tell us about the climb up the Mountain of Fire." Sam grimaced. "It is likely any information you yield could help us better find Frodo in his current state of mind," continued Gandalf. Sam looked at Gandalf with renewed interest. "I know it is painful, Samwise, but will you not tell us of this last part of your journey?" he asked softly. Aragorn glanced down at Sam with a look of encouragement in his eyes. Sam gulped.
"Well sir, we were 'bout at the limits of our strength. We had no more food and water, but we kept goin' anyways. The rocks were terrible sharp and soon our hands and feet were sliced up right bad and bleedin'. We climbed it seemed forever," Sam's eyes were hooded as he recalled the unending darkness and slow tortuous climb. Aragorn pulled him closer and placed a reasuring hand on his back, gently stroking in small circles. Sam glanced at Aragorn and gave a small smile of thanks. "We came to a roadway that seemed to come from Sauron's tower..."
"Baradur," commented Gandalf.
"Aye, Baradur. It seemed to come from there and connect to that volcano, but it wound upward like a snake around the Mountain of Fire, if you take my meanin'?" said Sam.
"Aragorn. Stop," Gandalf said suddenly. He had a look of sudden inspiration on his face. Sam and Aragorn stopped and looked at the wizard quizically.
"Now, look up. For a moment, pretend you are a small sick and desperate hobbit. You are delirious, but of course, don't know that. You're only aim is to climb Mount Doom and destroy the ring. What do you see before you?" asked Gandalf with an urgency in his voice. Aragorn and Sam looked up, and gasped. It was all so clear now. The winding road that connected each level of the great city of Minas Tirith would be as the Mountain of Fire to Frodo's confused mind. They turned and looked out over the fields of Pelennor, on fire from the huge mounds of the enemies dead, and were again struck at how it would have looked through Frodo's eyes, as rivers of lava.
"He is going to the Citadel," murmured Aragorn, "to cast the One Ring into the Cracks of Doom ....or die trying." Sam sobbed at this last statement.
"We have ta hurry, sirs. Your Highness sir, I have somethin' I gotta do," he said.
"What is it, Sam?" asked Aragorn.
"Well, no offense intended to Your Lordship or Master Gandalf neither," he gulped, "but those guards you got runnin' around don't know what ta look for, bein' big and all. They don't think like hobbits. I need ta have you take me over to the statues and let me take a look ta see if Mr. Frodo's been about, if you take my meanin' sir?" Sam stammered.
Aragorn glanced at Gandalf. Gandalf's eyes widened and he nodded. They carried Sam to the statues and shrubbery that marked the roadway and sat him down gently. Using a torch they scanned the area.
"Here! Here's somethin'," Sam cried out excitedly.
Aragorn bent to examine the ground and the pillars. There was bile where someone had vomitted and streaks of blood along the pillars as if someone were using them as a support to walk.
"Sam, you are brilliant!" he said picking up the hobbit and rapidly moving along the edge of the path. He stooped frequently to examine the ground. "More blood. This area is very disturbed. See how the leaves, branches and pebbles are broken and scuffed about? and here is more bile. I fear Frodo may be having seizures."
Sam and Gandalf's eyes met Aragorn's, a worried look passed between them.
"We must increase our pace. I feel a great urgency, more so than before," said Gandalf.
They continued moving up the incline until the road opened outward onto a plaza. Businesses and homes, long abandoned, stood in various stages of dilapidation. They heard the sound of water and moved to go towards it.
"Look," said Aragorn, "he is crawling. At the last stop I suspected as much, but here, in the dirt you can see the scrapping of his feet and there is more blood." They came to a small pond with a trickling waterfall, the water tinged pink. It was clear he had been here and immersed himself in the small pool. To the side of the pool a large wet mark lay on the ground. Aragorn knelt and touched his fingers to it, sniffed them and pulled back at the sour smell.
"It seems he tried to slake his thirst but his stomach could not abide as much as he drank. This is still very wet, he can not have gone far. See? There is a trail of drips from his clothing--and here, look, a small heel mark. We are very close," Strider said excitedly. "We must hurry."
Frodo awoke with a start and chastised himself for falling asleep. He began crawling upwards again, feeling almost as an outsider watching his body do this simple exercise. He was only semi-conscious now, and his body moved automatically . He merely viewed the surroundings with a hazy, disinterested stare. He finally saw before him the gate to the Cracks of Doom, but two orc guards stood watch. Somehow he had to get past them to finally destroy the ring. He crawled quietly along the shadowed wall, creeping in and out of the various rocks and slowly closed the distance to the guards. He was now but a stones throw from the orc guards, and with that, Frodo got an idea. He would distract them and then slip into the doorway. He crept even closer, holding his breath and striving to retain consciousness. He gathered some pebbles from the roadside and threw them down the incline where he had been moments before. The guards reaction was immediate. They turned and looked down the incline, theire eyes then scanning the adjacent area.
"It could be the halfling," said the orc on the right. "You stay here, I will go investigate." The orc on the left nodded in agreement. Frodo pulled back into the shadows wrapping the cloak closer around himself. The first orc raced past him disappearing into the rocks and shrubs. The second orc looked on from the gate, curiously. Frodo threw two more pebbles down the incline.
"Amier. Was that you?", the second orc called out.
The orc named 'Amier' called back. "No, I am still over here searching these bushes. Go and see what it is."
"But, I cannot leave the gate," called the second orc.
"It will only be a moment and I will return. Worry not, it will be alright," called Amier.
With that, the second orc sprinted past Frodo down the incline to where Frodo's second volley had landed.
Frodo
smiled grimly. Orcs were so stupid. He crept up the incline and slipped
through the doorway. What he saw took his breath away. A large
stone area opened before him and in the midst was a great stone tower
wreathed in light and flame, pointed like a deadly finger at the night
sky. In front of the tower was a circle of stones and in the
center a dead tree stood.
He moved away from this large center area to the rock wall lining the roadway, which had now turned into a path.
At last he had achieved his goal and he looked below him. The lava flowed across the vale and fire ringed the Mountain he had finally conquered. All about him was the smoke and stench of death. He took two steps forward closer to the rock wall.
"This is for you, Sam." He said and he smiled a thin smile, tears running down his face. "This is for you and Merry and Pip. This is for the Shire!"
to be continued