I can't tell you how grateful and truly amazed I am that this story has generated the response that it has. I did not believe it was possible for me to not only write, but to have great and fabulous authors such as yourselves, actually READ and seemingly, ENJOY, one of my stories. For your praise and great reviews, I am truly honored to all of you. This my favorite chapter so far, and it's a cliffhanger, so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. It was suggested I watch my 'tenses', so I have, hopefully, corrected that problem and perhaps, it will read easier. Please let me know!!! I truly want helpful suggestions.
Disclaimer: The characters and places in this story are the property of the JRR Tolkien estate. I am but trying to emulate and do honor to the great master.
Medical Disclaimers: All treatments, including herbology, have been thoroughly researched. However, said treatments are used here only for fictional purposes and should not be tried at home.
Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 7
Gandalf and Aragorn broke into a run. Sam who was cradled like a child on Aragorn's hip, thumped painfully against the man as he took huge, racing strides up the incline and around the circle leading to the gate on the seventh level. He grasped tightly to Aragorn's neck, determined not to cry out although great fiery shots of pain coursed through his body from the jarring motion. They were within sight now of the gate. Two guards were on watch and immediately came to attention.
"Have you seen the ring bearer or anything untoward this night?" panted Aragorn.
"No, my Lord. All has been peaceful this night," replied the first guard. Aragorn harrumphed at the irony of the guard's statement. The second guard was giving
discreet, sidelong glances at his companion. He cleared his throat. The first guard gave him an alarmed look.
"You have something to add, young sir?" asked Gandalf with a piercing gaze.
"Please my Lord, I wish not to lose my position and perhaps it is of no import," murmured the second guard.
"Speak! What are you mumbling about, young man?" queried Gandalf who was now starting to look irritated.
The young soldier was terrified. Not only was he about to tell the King but also the White Wizard of his minor dereliction to duty. His compatriot gave him a withering look, hoping his friend would not regale the two sires with what had occurred earlier.
"My dear man, if I were to guarantee no repercussions whatsoever," Gandalf gave a pointed look at Aragorn, who raised an eyebrow in return, "would you please tell us of anything that occurred this eve that was out of the ordinary?" Gandalf spoke softly but his voice had an edge to it that was hard to ignore. The young guard turned towards the King going down on one knee, his eyes beseeching.
"My Lord, have mercy. I left my post earlier for only a moment as we heard noises in the brush," he said.
Aragorn looked down at the young soldier in amusement. "Rise, I am not angry with you and I am not interested, currently, " he looked pointedly at Gandalf " in whatever deviation to duty you have performed. I am, however, very worried about a dear friend, so tell us quickly of these 'noises'," said Aragorn.
"Yes, my Lord. We heard rocks falling on the roadway and rustling in the brush so we left our posts for a moment to investigate. Our search was in vain and we returned quickly to our posts here at the gate," the guard finished hurriedly.
Aragorn looked at the guard. "You saw no one sneak past you through the gate?"
"No, my Lord, but we were over there," he pointed off towards the bushes, "only for a moment, and could not see the gate clearly."
"I think it was him," said Sam softly in Aragorn's ear. "It's what I woulda' done, I mean to say, sir," he finished.
Aragorn turned and smiled at Sam. "I agree Sam, it's what I would've done as well. A simple but, obviously successful, distraction." Sam smiled hopefully at Aragorn.
"Very well, please follow us, we may need your assistance," said Aragorn to the guards.
"As you wish, my Lord," they said in unison. They glanced at each other in relief.
Aragorn with Sam, Gandalf and now the two new acquisitions ran through the gate and towards the Citadel. Aragorn stopped so fast that the rest of the entourage nearly collided with him. Upon the wall stood the ring bearer, swaying in the breeze, his cloak billowing behind him, holding the pendant from the Queen Arwen, out over the precipice.
Aragorn was aghast at the wretched appearance of his friend. His face was covered in dirt and blood. Sweat matted his chestnut curls to his head and ran in rivulets down from his forehead. His eyes were glazed over and he was bent forward, shivering violently. His cloak and nightshirt were plastered to his small frame with the perspiration only known by the very ill. Water still dripped from his clothing, evidence of his recent swim in the pond. Even from where Aragorn stood he could see the scrapes and cuts that covered the hands, legs and feet of the former ring bearer. But his eyes were drawn mostly to the right hand, which still grasped firmly the small elven blade, now covered in bright red blood running down from the missing ring finger.
Sam gasped and wriggled to be set down. Aragorn hushed him, while holding his other hand back towards the group to show he wished them to stand still. Sam was crying and Aragorn knelt down on the ground releasing him from his hip. He held Sam by the shoulders and spoke softly in his ear, although Sam's eyes were fixed on Frodo, he nodded to Aragorn as he spoke.
"Sam, you may have more luck at getting him down off the wall than any of us. His position is even more precarious than it appears, little one." Aragorn said, referring to the obviously advanced state of the illness and its imminent victory over Frodo's body. "You must try, by whatever means--begging, lying --anything, to get him to come down. Do so in soft, reassuring tones so as not to alarm or startle him. Do you understand?" Sam nodded again.
Sam stood on wobbly legs as Aragorn held his hands out to either side of him, not unlike a parent guiding a toddler's first hesitant steps. But Sam was oblivious to this, his eyes fixed only on Frodo. Slowly he moved towards the wall and began to softly call to Frodo.
"Mr. Frodo? It's your Sam," Sam softly uttered, moving with arms outstretched towards his master. "Come down, Mr. Frodo. Please, Master, come to your Sam", he implored.
Frodo turned almost imperceptibly towards the voice of his best friend.
"Sam?" he croaked, "Is that you, Sam?" His eyes lit upon the small gardener and he broke down into heartfelt weeping. "Oh Sam, I thought you were dead...when you weren't there...I thought they had killed you, dear Sam." Frodo was now overcome with hysterical sobbing as he started to bend down towards his friend. Unnoticed to both hobbits, Aragorn had circled wide around to the left of the pillar and was now approaching Frodo from behind, hoping to grab him if Sam should fail to call him down. One of the guards had circled wide to the right while the other ran below to the sixth level and looked up at the small figure perched high above him.
"I know, Mr. Frodo. I'm so sorry I wasn't there with you. Oh, Mr. Frodo I've been so worried about you. You've been so sick...having had the deliriums, what with the fever and all. Won't you please come down and let me take care of you, me dear?" Sam cried.
"But Sam, we've come so far. I have to destroy the ring and complete our quest." Frodo looked at Sam as if he should know this obvious fact.
"Master, you already destroyed that cursed ring. Don't ya remember? That's how you lost your finger, Mr. Frodo. You've done what they asked ya, now you only have to get yourself well, sir." Sam sobbed, looking up at Frodo. Seeing the advanced state of his illness, and how truly pathetic his Master appeared, was taking it's toll on Sam. He didn't think he could bear much more of seeing Frodo shiver with fever and cold, his pale face spasming periodically with pain and standing so far from Sam's reach.
Frodo looked at Sam, confusion in his eyes. "No, Sam. The ring is here in my hand," he indicated the pendant swinging from his left hand held out over the wall. "It has claimed me. I am helpless to its call. My very soul is wrapped around it as a poisonous vine about a once healthy sapling," he muttered more to himself than to Sam. "We, the ring and I, will never be parted, I fear. I will perish without it, so I must perish with it in order to finally be at peace," he sobbed silently.
"No, Master. You are strong, I will help make you stronger...if you will but come down from the wall." Sam was becoming more and more alarmed at this turn of conversation as his Master prepared to give up his life for something he had already destroyed.
"It's too late, for me, dearest Sam. I have to destroy it or die trying," his voice broke as he said this.
Sam decided to take a different tact at this last statement. He hated for Frodo to be separated from the calming effects of the Lady Arwen's pendant, but was more concerned now for the mental and physical well being of his Master and dear friend.
"Very well, Mr. Frodo. Destroy that accursed ring and let's leave this vile place. Throw it into the fires and be rid of its poisonous hold over you, once and for all," he said firmly.
Frodo smiled, and made ready to do just that, turning with his arm extended out and took a wobbly step towards the abyss. Gandalf had slowly come up behind Sam and placed his hand on the small hobbit's shoulder. Frodo's back was turned to them. Aragorn crept within a few feet of Frodo, and slunk down behind one of the numerous statues. He was out of site but within reach of the ring bearer. The other guard was still off to the right but not close enough to reach the ring bearer, as yet.
Frodo turned around to give Sam a last hope-filled smile, instead his eyes flew open and he gasped, almost slipping from the wall.
"Gandalf! It is Gandalf!" he exclaimed. A look of joy turning to skepticism slid over his face as he gazed at Sam and the wizard.
"But...I saw you fall," tears flowed unchecked down his grimy face. "I saw you die in Moria," he sobbed.
"No, Mr. Frodo. He survived and he's here now to help take care of us. He's goin' ta take us home, Mr. Frodo." Sam's voice shook with emotion.
Frodo's face slowly hardened and grimaced in anger and betrayal. It was then that he spied the orc approaching, stealthily, off from the right.
"LIAR!" he spat. It is a trick of the Ring," he said gasping.
Then a strange, vacant look covered his features as if he had seemingly slipped into a dream. He looked again at Sam and Gandalf as if seeing them for the first time. A look of deep sadness filled his eyes. "He is dead. And if you are with him, dear Sam, that means you are dead as well," he sobbed.
"No, Master, he is alive. I am alive, please come to me," Sam said beseechingly, losing his battle at remaining calm.
"It is no matter, my Sam. Shortly, ...very shortly, we will again walk side by side. And Gandalf and all the others that have been lost will be there with us. There will be no more pain...no ringspell to fight...and no worries for what is or what is not to be," he whispered to himself. He wept and moved slightly, turning to face the chasm.
His legs, that had held him up for so long, lost their battle and buckled, causing him to drop Sting onto the stones below him. The sword fell for what seemed like forever, finally ringing with a clang as it struck the sixth level, one hundred feet below. He wavered for only a second, his eyes rolled up into his head and then he fell. Around him there was only blackness, a loud whooshing noise filled his mind until finally he was lost to the deep and endless void.
To be continued…