A/N My apologies for it taking so long to post this chapter. This
chapter is twice as long as the regular chapters, so I hope that will
be my penance. I do hope there are still people out there who
have been waiting for this update, from the wonderful reviews I've
received, I feel there are.
Disclaimer: All characters and places depicted are the sole property of the JRR Tolkien estate, my only claim to fame is this small piece of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.
Medical Disclaimer: While extensive research has been done, none of the cures or procedures depicted in this story should be
used without first consulting a medical professional. Also there may be graphic medical details and wee hobbit behinds in this chapter, so if that makes you squeamish, you'd better pass.
Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 19
Sam was pacing. He had been placed , unceremoniously, in the room with Merry and Pippin. After initial greetings, he had been unable to sustain the normal hobbit small talk and began this walking rote, his thoughts in turmoil. From the time when Sam had first met Mr. Frodo, as a wee lad at Bag End, he had felt in awe of his new Master. Frodo had lost his parents and had been adopted by Mr. Bilbo who brought him to Bag End. Sam had been introduced to Frodo and his quick smile, un-hobbit like appearance and ways, and generous spirit. He had known right from the start, they would become fast friends. While the Gaffer had told him, in no uncertain terms, this simply could never be---him steppin' outta his place and all, Frodo had whole heartedly embraced Sam as his equal. When the Gaffer had seen how Mr. Frodo had wished for this new bond he had let it be, no matter how unnatural it was, a gentle hobbit befriending a servant. Still, some of Sam's upbringing had rubbed off, and he hadn't been able to drop the 'Mr.' or 'Master' or stop doin' for Mr. Frodo. After all, that was his job. He still was the servant and Frodo the master. But they also shared things that friends shared--time together with an ale on the porch, visiting friends, long walks, heavy meals and a general understanding of each other, learned through the unconditional love of friendship. And now those healers wanted Sam to just let Mr. Frodo be cared for by others, who didn't know him and his ways like Sam did. It was too much for the small gardener. Sam knew only he would know what Frodo needed or wanted before even Frodo did.
So he paced, waiting until they finally allowed him access to his friend. He watched Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin while he fumed. They were carrying on a lively conversation comparing Elven cuisine with that of Minas Tirith and the Shire, while they devoured a huge meal of roasted meats, sausages, vegetables, fruits, baked dainties and desserts all followed by a robust wine. Sam had eaten little. The food had no flavor to him even after going so long without. He was just too worked up about his Master. He glanced up at Pippin. You woulda never known the pain the tweener had been in earlier. His eyes shown with their normal impishness and he gestured frequently with his arms and hands. He's trussed up like a Yule ham, thought Sam. And indeed the leg that had been crushed and re-broken lay on a board, elevated into the air by a strange pulley contraption. Bandages thoroughly covered the extremity all the way from his furry toes to his hip. His ribs were bound as well Sam knew, but he couldn't see them as they were hidden by his nightshirt. Merry still favored his right arm, but Sam noticed it hadn't slowed him down much when the meal had arrived. The only difference Sam could really see in both of them was how fast they became fatigued, Pippin especially. When Mr. Pippin became tired, the pain became unbearable and the healers would bring frequent doses of some strange paste, place it in his mouth and then the pain would recede and he would sleep. Merry had rejected the paste, but the healers still brought sleeping droughts at regular intervals and made him drink them. They also tried to get Merry to use his right hand in simple exercises, but Merry said he was fine and looked almost embarrassed when they made mention of it. Frequently, Sam noted, the hand lay curled like a claw in his lap. They had let Sam be for the time being, knowing he would refuse their medicines until he was reconciled with his Master. Pippin and Merry had asked countless questions of Sam when he had been escorted into the room. He had supplied as much information as he could, but when he came to the part of Frodo's reaction to Aragorn's resuscitation, the room had become quiet and the expressions solemn. Pippin and Merry had looked sadly at each other then down at their laps.
"I don't understand. He should'a been grateful for all Mr. Strider did for 'em." Sam had said.
"Sam, maybe Frodo's in so much pain and been through so much, that...well, maybe he didn't want to live," Merry had said hesitantly. Pippin's eyes had teared up just trying to imagine what had hurt his cousin so much to make him not want to live, leaving him lost and empty and filled with such despair. Merry's face was wet as he looked up at Sam.
Sam had been aghast, refusing to believe any of this even though he knew it was likely true.
"No, not Mr. Frodo. He'd never give up after all we've been through together, an all. He wouldn't wanna die, would he?" Tears flowed down Sam's anguished face as he thought of his poor Master being in so much pain, and carrying such a burden on his mind that he would sink into such depths of despair.
"Sometimes, Sam, when people feel such a deep, empty ache like what Frodo must be feeling, they give up hope," whispered Merry. "Our job is to make sure he doesn't give up and knows how very much we love him. We can help him by making him talk to us about whatever's bothering him--work through this together."
Sam looked up a Merry, then Pip. Both had determined looks on their faces. He set his jaw, "You're right, Mr. Merry. Mr. Frodo's not alone long as he's got us. He needs to know we're in this all together, and I'll not be lettin' him shut hisself off like he usually does, if you take my meanin'. I mean to get him well and outta that bed and no feelin' sorry for himself neither. That never got anyone anywheres, me gaffer always said." Goal in mind, and ready for action Sam turned towards the door. "I mean ta see him, and nobody's gonna stop me," he muttered as he walked swiftly to the door. But as he neared the door it swung towards him, a healer and Aragorn entering.
"Ahh...Master Samwise, You have a most determined set to your body. I wonder where you could be going," said Aragorn with a smile.
"You know very well where I'm off to...to see Mr. Frodo," he said.
"Sam, sit down first with Merry and Pippin, and let me tell you a few things," said Aragorn as he guided the gardener back to the bed. "Frodo is much improved today." Smiles of hope were exchanged between the three companions. "He is still very weak. The brain fever seems to have abated, and he has sustained damage to his throat and stomach, which is bleeding." All three hobbits gasped.
"My poor Master. Is there nothin' you can do?" asked Sam
"Sam, we are doing all we can to help your master, you must believe that," said Aragorn. "With his friends' help, I believe he will make a full recovery. When Frodo first became aware that he had been brought back from whatever awaits us on the next realm, he was very bitter." The hobbits looked saddened, Aragorn noted, but still an air of hope seemed to linger. He smiled at them. "Other people I have known have felt this same way. It must be a wondrous place for so many to struggle against being returned to this world," Aragorn murmured looking thoughtful. "Each day he will draw further and further from his memories of that blessed place. As he does so, he will be more and more receptive to the beauty of this world, but it will take time. First, we need to get him well." He looked into Merry and Pippin's eyes. "I think you will agree that being ill can be very depressing." Pip and Merry nodded, "and Frodo has had more than his share of ills and hurts. Once he actually feels like living, then we can restore his mental health. In the meantime, we can try to lift his spirits by visiting him," Aragorn smiled. Pippin looked anxiously at Aragorn.
"Strider, how can I visit Frodo if I'm attached to this monstrosity?' asked Pippin. He looked worriedly at Merry, fearing he would miss out on the adventure and have to remain behind. Merry gave him a reassuring smile.
"Well, since Pippin can not be moved for a good long while, I thought that if Frodo was feeling up to it, we might bring him here," said Aragorn.
"Oh, that would be wonderful," cried Pippin. "We could tell him all about the things we've seen and done, Merry. The Ents, Isengarrd and the great battle and ...." he said in a rush.
"Whoa..Pippin. First, you need to realize Frodo is only awake for small periods of time and that he is very weak. Also he can not speak because his throat is badly abraded. You will have to be calm and quiet with him, or he could become confused and agitated, which would prolong his recovery. He needs soft, soothing and comforting sounds and to feel secure and loved. Can you do this? If not, I need to know, for I can not bring him from his warm, quiet nest into a tumult of activity and sound. It would be more than he could bare," explained Aragorn.
"Strider we will do whatever you tell us to do to make him well again," said Merry. Pippin nodded, although he was disappointed at having to hold off on his tale.
"I need to go see how Frodo fares this morning. If he seems to be improving and if the bleeding has slowed, I will bring him down for a brief visit. Sam, you may come with me and stay by Frodo's side if you desire," Aragorn grinned at Sam, who beamed back at him.
"I was headin' that way when you came in, if you take my meanin', King Strider. I weren't gonna let cha stop me from seein' me Master, no how," he said firmly. Strider raised an eyebrow, and Sam squirmed under his gaze. "What I mean ta say, Mr. Strider is that me and Mr. Frodo are like brothers, only me bein' his servant and all, it's probably not proper of me to say so. But that's how it feels to me. I'd do anything for Mr. Frodo, and it's right hard to be separated from 'em. I can read 'em like a book, sir. I've been by his side since I were just a lad. He needs me, he does, sometimes he just don't know it," Sam said earnestly.
Aragorn placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, "Samwise, I think you may be the best medicine yet to cure your Master of what ails him. Let us go and see if a visit is in order, shall we?" Aragorn rose and said his good-byes to Merry and Pippin who hugged Sam fiercely as he left.
"Tell him we're thinking of him, all right Sam?"
"That I will Mr. Merry, that I will," Sam said. Pippin was beginning to look very tired and as Aragorn and Sam left the room, Valin entered, bearing medicine for the battered hobbit.
"You'll stay with me, won't you, Merry?" murmured Pippin as his eyes slipped slowly closed.
"Yes my dear, always," said Merry as he caressed Pippin's locks. But he looked longingly after Aragorn and Sam, he very much wanted to see his older cousin but did not want to leave Pippin alone. He sighed and curled up next to Pip, gradually relaxing, his arm laying across his small cousin.
Sam moved as swiftly as his short legs would carry him, down the corridor. Aragorn caught him in two strides. "Slow down, Sam. You are still recovering yourself. Your feet are badly lacerated still and it appears, the bandages are greatly in need of changing," Aragorn looked at the bloody, filthy wrappings with a frown. He picked Sam up and placed him on his hip. "I shall carry you, and when we get to Frodo's room I plan to change those wrappings."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Strider, sir. I wouldn't let the healers touch them, in case you came for me whilst they were workin' on 'em. They weren't real pleased with me neither, with me not takin' their medicines and all," Sam said.
Aragorn's expression turned to one of concern. "Sam, you can not continue to neglect your health. It would not bode well for Frodo if you became ill yourself." The King said this carefully, his eyes surreptitiously shifting over to see Sam's reaction. He knew of Sam's deep devotion to his master and by using Frodo as an excuse, hoped to manipulate Sam into taking better care of himself.
"I am a ninny hammer! I guess I just weren't thinkin', me bein' so worried about him and all," Sam exclaimed. Aragorn smiled slightly as they walked into Frodo's room.
Frodo was curled up on his left side, his right hand held against his chest. Although his eyes were closed, his breaths were coming in rapid pants and his face wore the distinct expression of someone in anguish.
"Saleth, is there a problem?" he queried.
"No, my Lord. The bleeding has lessened but not completely stopped. I was about to insert another bolus."
"Now I understand the look of apprehension on Frodo's face," Aragorn said with a grimace. He whispered to Sam. "Sam, Frodo does not yet know that you are here, perhaps if you would hold his hand and comfort him. Remember, no loud noises or sudden movements. Frodo's nervous system is till recovering and it takes little to agitate him, which in turn, effects him bodily in an adverse way," Aragorn whispered. When he saw Sam's confused stare, he smiled and said "It makes him sick."
"Oh, I see what yer sayin'. Don't you worry none, I'll see to me Master," said Sam. Aragorn set him down and he slowly walked over to Frodo's bedside and took the clenched fist in his own small hand. Frodo's eyes slowly opened and he smiled slowly as he saw Sam by his side.
"Sam, oh...Sam..I have missed you so," he whispered, his voice cracking. Tears now ran down his face and onto his pillow.
"Frodo, absolutely no talking," admonished Aragorn with a look at Saleth.
"He yearns to express himself, my Lord," Saleth smiled. "It would be hard indeed to see your loved ones and not be able to speak with them," he continued.
"Yes, I understand. But we must curtail all use of his throat until the bleeding is fully stopped, or risk another tear," said Aragorn sadly.
Frodo continued to smile at Sam and Sam was more than happy to return the favor. He spoke to Frodo softly and caressed his arm. Saleth moved to the bed and pulled back the counterpane revealing only Frodo's backside. Again, Frodo began to breathe rapidly and drops of perspiration appeared on his upper lip and forehead.
"There, there, Mr. Frodo. These healers are tryin' ta make you better. They don't mean no harm. I know about them boluses. Me mum used to give them to me when I was a wee lad. It's a might humiliatin' and uncomfortable but it sure does the trick, if you see my point, Master Frodo. It'll make you right as rain, it will. So you just relax and I'll not leave your side, maybe a little song would help. Would ya like that, Mr. Frodo?" Frodo opened his eyes a crack and nodded, then closed them again. Sam began a soft melody, one the elves had taught him in Rivendell. He knew his elvish was atrocious but while singing, the words fairly flowed effortlessly off his tongue, creating a haunting, beautiful ballad. He saw that he was having the desired effect, as Frodo began to slowly relax, his breathing becoming more deep and regular, his face took on a calm, serene appearance.
Saleth slowly inserted the bolus into Frodo's tiny bottom. Frodo's eyes opened wide and a small gasp escaped his lips. He whimpered and then his eyes slid shut.
"See now, Master, it's all done and no one's the worse for it," said Sam soothingly.
Aragorn took Saleth aside to speak out of earshot of the hobbits. "How fares he, truly, Saleth?" asked the King.
"He improves each day. The bleeding and swelling in his throat has receded." He hesitated, a troubled look on his face.
"What troubles you so then, Master Healer?" asked Aragorn.
"We have been feeding him the cream with honey, comfrey, echinacea, myrrh and poppy extract about every hour," he hesitated. Aragorn nodded for him to continue. "I noticed at each dose he becomes more and more agitated at the mixture's arrival and tries to gulp it. I fear he has developed an addiction to the poppy's effects," he finished sadly.
"Is he in much pain?" asked Aragorn, alarmed at this news.
"Yes, I am sorry to say he still is. Otherwise, I would have reduced the dose to wean him from it."
"Perhaps the pain is a phantom one, as it becomes closer to the time of his next dosing. The addictive effects have possibly created the illusion of pain," prompted Aragorn.
"Perhaps. Yet when he becomes stressed or excited he begins to fever and retch, so I have not tested this theory as yet," replied Saleth.
"When is his next dosing?" asked Aragorn.
"I was about to give it to him now, my King. But first I wished to speak with you and give him a thick soup with pureed vegetables in a heavy meat base." Aragorn nodded. Saleth approached the bed and pulled Frodo into a semi- reclining position against his chest.
"I can do that, Mr. Saleth. I'd like to take care of me Master, no offense intended to you," Sam said softly.
"None taken, Master Samwise. Why don't you support Frodo and I will feed him. Would that be acceptable?"
Sam grinned and said "Aye, sir. I'd be delighted."
Saleth lifted Sam to the head of the bed and settled Frodo so that his head rested against Sam's left shoulder.
"Thank....you....Sam," came a whispered voice. A small smile formed on Frodo's pale face.
"I will not mention this again, Master Baggins, you will not speak. Each time you do so, it risks further bleeding. Do we understand each other?" Saleth said sternly. Frodo nodded, but had a twinkle in his eye that neither Saleth nor Aragorn had seen for a long time.
The cream mixture was brought and placed on the bedside table. Frodo's eyes followed the orderly as he brought the mixture in and placed it within reach of the healer. Aragorn noted Frodo's eyes stayed riveted on the mixture and held an unsettling, glazed appearance --- the unmistakable look of need. Frodo licked his chapped lips and swallowed several times as his mouth began to water at the prospect of the cream and honey mixture. This too, was noticed by both Saleth and Aragorn. Aragorn groaned inwardly. There was only one way to truly test what he suspected, and he flinched at the thought of the possible outcome.
Saleth retrieved the broth mixture. At first, Frodo refused, not really wanting the broth but the other mixture in it's stead. Aragorn went to the side table, took the milk mixture and made to exit the room. Frodo's mouth dropped open and a thin wail issued forth.
"It's all right, Frodo. I will return with your medicine as soon as you have finished your broth," Aragorn said slowly. Frodo turned back to Saleth and opened his mouth, allowing Saleth to slowly begin feeding him. Each swallow was met with a stabbing, burning pain. But he knew, if he could just get through the ordeal, he could have the milk and honey mixture which always made him feel inordinately better. Aragorn left the room and went to the dispensary. He approached the healer.
"I would like this mixture re-made with half of the poppy extract it normally has," he said.
"Very well, my Lord," said the healer. The mixture was quickly made and Aragorn took it back to Frodo's room. Frodo's eyes had not left the doorway, and when Aragorn returned he issued an audible sigh of relief. He had only eaten about half of the broth mixture but now turned his head to indicate he was full.
"All right, let's get you your medicine and let you rest a bit," said Saleth. He reached over, taking the cup from Aragorn's hand. They exchanged a brief glance, and Aragorn nodded. Frodo now looked anxiously at the cup and eagerly tried to reach out and grasp it with his shaking hands. His face was flushed and the perspiration now ran down from his forehead.
"Easy, Mr. Frodo, Saleth will take care of you, but you have ta take your medicine," he cajoled, completely misinterpreting the tenseness he now felt in his master's thin frame.
Saleth brought the cup to Frodo's lips and he gulped greedily. "Master Baggins," he said pulling the cup away, eliciting a panicked look on the ringbearer's thin face. Aragorn winced as he watched. "You will drink slowly--no gulping, or I will remove the cup," the healer admonished. A stricken look crossed Frodo's face,. The cup was again pressed to his lips and this time, Frodo slowly swallowed the contents. There was pain, but Frodo hardly noticed as the effects of the drug began to surge through him, making it bearable. His eyes half closed in a look of rapture as he was returned, once again, to that place of soft, unfocused oblivion. He let himself drift in this divine plane, feeling naught but a warm fuzziness in his mind. The cup was emptied, his face was wiped and he was lain down and nestled into his blankets, curled on his side as before.
"Sam, why don't you rest with him," Aragorn murmured in a somewhat sad voice.
"Thank you, Strider. I'll just curl up here against him so he knows I'm here for 'em," said Sam happily. Frodo's eyes had closed, his body totally relaxed. Sam climbed under the covers, curling up around Frodo's back and placing one arm protectively over his Master.
Aragorn turned to Saleth and said quietly,"I believe we have problem with our small patient, but we will know for sure before the hour has passed," he said grimly. Aragorn and Saleth gazed sadly at the two sleeping forms. Aragorn felt a tight band of anguish in his chest. If what was happening to Frodo was true, the next few days would be very difficult. He's been through so much, he thought. More than any of us. Please Eru, I pray you spare him this time, he pleaded to himself.
To be continued
Disclaimer: All characters and places depicted are the sole property of the JRR Tolkien estate, my only claim to fame is this small piece of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.
Medical Disclaimer: While extensive research has been done, none of the cures or procedures depicted in this story should be
used without first consulting a medical professional. Also there may be graphic medical details and wee hobbit behinds in this chapter, so if that makes you squeamish, you'd better pass.
Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 19
Sam was pacing. He had been placed , unceremoniously, in the room with Merry and Pippin. After initial greetings, he had been unable to sustain the normal hobbit small talk and began this walking rote, his thoughts in turmoil. From the time when Sam had first met Mr. Frodo, as a wee lad at Bag End, he had felt in awe of his new Master. Frodo had lost his parents and had been adopted by Mr. Bilbo who brought him to Bag End. Sam had been introduced to Frodo and his quick smile, un-hobbit like appearance and ways, and generous spirit. He had known right from the start, they would become fast friends. While the Gaffer had told him, in no uncertain terms, this simply could never be---him steppin' outta his place and all, Frodo had whole heartedly embraced Sam as his equal. When the Gaffer had seen how Mr. Frodo had wished for this new bond he had let it be, no matter how unnatural it was, a gentle hobbit befriending a servant. Still, some of Sam's upbringing had rubbed off, and he hadn't been able to drop the 'Mr.' or 'Master' or stop doin' for Mr. Frodo. After all, that was his job. He still was the servant and Frodo the master. But they also shared things that friends shared--time together with an ale on the porch, visiting friends, long walks, heavy meals and a general understanding of each other, learned through the unconditional love of friendship. And now those healers wanted Sam to just let Mr. Frodo be cared for by others, who didn't know him and his ways like Sam did. It was too much for the small gardener. Sam knew only he would know what Frodo needed or wanted before even Frodo did.
So he paced, waiting until they finally allowed him access to his friend. He watched Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin while he fumed. They were carrying on a lively conversation comparing Elven cuisine with that of Minas Tirith and the Shire, while they devoured a huge meal of roasted meats, sausages, vegetables, fruits, baked dainties and desserts all followed by a robust wine. Sam had eaten little. The food had no flavor to him even after going so long without. He was just too worked up about his Master. He glanced up at Pippin. You woulda never known the pain the tweener had been in earlier. His eyes shown with their normal impishness and he gestured frequently with his arms and hands. He's trussed up like a Yule ham, thought Sam. And indeed the leg that had been crushed and re-broken lay on a board, elevated into the air by a strange pulley contraption. Bandages thoroughly covered the extremity all the way from his furry toes to his hip. His ribs were bound as well Sam knew, but he couldn't see them as they were hidden by his nightshirt. Merry still favored his right arm, but Sam noticed it hadn't slowed him down much when the meal had arrived. The only difference Sam could really see in both of them was how fast they became fatigued, Pippin especially. When Mr. Pippin became tired, the pain became unbearable and the healers would bring frequent doses of some strange paste, place it in his mouth and then the pain would recede and he would sleep. Merry had rejected the paste, but the healers still brought sleeping droughts at regular intervals and made him drink them. They also tried to get Merry to use his right hand in simple exercises, but Merry said he was fine and looked almost embarrassed when they made mention of it. Frequently, Sam noted, the hand lay curled like a claw in his lap. They had let Sam be for the time being, knowing he would refuse their medicines until he was reconciled with his Master. Pippin and Merry had asked countless questions of Sam when he had been escorted into the room. He had supplied as much information as he could, but when he came to the part of Frodo's reaction to Aragorn's resuscitation, the room had become quiet and the expressions solemn. Pippin and Merry had looked sadly at each other then down at their laps.
"I don't understand. He should'a been grateful for all Mr. Strider did for 'em." Sam had said.
"Sam, maybe Frodo's in so much pain and been through so much, that...well, maybe he didn't want to live," Merry had said hesitantly. Pippin's eyes had teared up just trying to imagine what had hurt his cousin so much to make him not want to live, leaving him lost and empty and filled with such despair. Merry's face was wet as he looked up at Sam.
Sam had been aghast, refusing to believe any of this even though he knew it was likely true.
"No, not Mr. Frodo. He'd never give up after all we've been through together, an all. He wouldn't wanna die, would he?" Tears flowed down Sam's anguished face as he thought of his poor Master being in so much pain, and carrying such a burden on his mind that he would sink into such depths of despair.
"Sometimes, Sam, when people feel such a deep, empty ache like what Frodo must be feeling, they give up hope," whispered Merry. "Our job is to make sure he doesn't give up and knows how very much we love him. We can help him by making him talk to us about whatever's bothering him--work through this together."
Sam looked up a Merry, then Pip. Both had determined looks on their faces. He set his jaw, "You're right, Mr. Merry. Mr. Frodo's not alone long as he's got us. He needs to know we're in this all together, and I'll not be lettin' him shut hisself off like he usually does, if you take my meanin'. I mean to get him well and outta that bed and no feelin' sorry for himself neither. That never got anyone anywheres, me gaffer always said." Goal in mind, and ready for action Sam turned towards the door. "I mean ta see him, and nobody's gonna stop me," he muttered as he walked swiftly to the door. But as he neared the door it swung towards him, a healer and Aragorn entering.
"Ahh...Master Samwise, You have a most determined set to your body. I wonder where you could be going," said Aragorn with a smile.
"You know very well where I'm off to...to see Mr. Frodo," he said.
"Sam, sit down first with Merry and Pippin, and let me tell you a few things," said Aragorn as he guided the gardener back to the bed. "Frodo is much improved today." Smiles of hope were exchanged between the three companions. "He is still very weak. The brain fever seems to have abated, and he has sustained damage to his throat and stomach, which is bleeding." All three hobbits gasped.
"My poor Master. Is there nothin' you can do?" asked Sam
"Sam, we are doing all we can to help your master, you must believe that," said Aragorn. "With his friends' help, I believe he will make a full recovery. When Frodo first became aware that he had been brought back from whatever awaits us on the next realm, he was very bitter." The hobbits looked saddened, Aragorn noted, but still an air of hope seemed to linger. He smiled at them. "Other people I have known have felt this same way. It must be a wondrous place for so many to struggle against being returned to this world," Aragorn murmured looking thoughtful. "Each day he will draw further and further from his memories of that blessed place. As he does so, he will be more and more receptive to the beauty of this world, but it will take time. First, we need to get him well." He looked into Merry and Pippin's eyes. "I think you will agree that being ill can be very depressing." Pip and Merry nodded, "and Frodo has had more than his share of ills and hurts. Once he actually feels like living, then we can restore his mental health. In the meantime, we can try to lift his spirits by visiting him," Aragorn smiled. Pippin looked anxiously at Aragorn.
"Strider, how can I visit Frodo if I'm attached to this monstrosity?' asked Pippin. He looked worriedly at Merry, fearing he would miss out on the adventure and have to remain behind. Merry gave him a reassuring smile.
"Well, since Pippin can not be moved for a good long while, I thought that if Frodo was feeling up to it, we might bring him here," said Aragorn.
"Oh, that would be wonderful," cried Pippin. "We could tell him all about the things we've seen and done, Merry. The Ents, Isengarrd and the great battle and ...." he said in a rush.
"Whoa..Pippin. First, you need to realize Frodo is only awake for small periods of time and that he is very weak. Also he can not speak because his throat is badly abraded. You will have to be calm and quiet with him, or he could become confused and agitated, which would prolong his recovery. He needs soft, soothing and comforting sounds and to feel secure and loved. Can you do this? If not, I need to know, for I can not bring him from his warm, quiet nest into a tumult of activity and sound. It would be more than he could bare," explained Aragorn.
"Strider we will do whatever you tell us to do to make him well again," said Merry. Pippin nodded, although he was disappointed at having to hold off on his tale.
"I need to go see how Frodo fares this morning. If he seems to be improving and if the bleeding has slowed, I will bring him down for a brief visit. Sam, you may come with me and stay by Frodo's side if you desire," Aragorn grinned at Sam, who beamed back at him.
"I was headin' that way when you came in, if you take my meanin', King Strider. I weren't gonna let cha stop me from seein' me Master, no how," he said firmly. Strider raised an eyebrow, and Sam squirmed under his gaze. "What I mean ta say, Mr. Strider is that me and Mr. Frodo are like brothers, only me bein' his servant and all, it's probably not proper of me to say so. But that's how it feels to me. I'd do anything for Mr. Frodo, and it's right hard to be separated from 'em. I can read 'em like a book, sir. I've been by his side since I were just a lad. He needs me, he does, sometimes he just don't know it," Sam said earnestly.
Aragorn placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, "Samwise, I think you may be the best medicine yet to cure your Master of what ails him. Let us go and see if a visit is in order, shall we?" Aragorn rose and said his good-byes to Merry and Pippin who hugged Sam fiercely as he left.
"Tell him we're thinking of him, all right Sam?"
"That I will Mr. Merry, that I will," Sam said. Pippin was beginning to look very tired and as Aragorn and Sam left the room, Valin entered, bearing medicine for the battered hobbit.
"You'll stay with me, won't you, Merry?" murmured Pippin as his eyes slipped slowly closed.
"Yes my dear, always," said Merry as he caressed Pippin's locks. But he looked longingly after Aragorn and Sam, he very much wanted to see his older cousin but did not want to leave Pippin alone. He sighed and curled up next to Pip, gradually relaxing, his arm laying across his small cousin.
Sam moved as swiftly as his short legs would carry him, down the corridor. Aragorn caught him in two strides. "Slow down, Sam. You are still recovering yourself. Your feet are badly lacerated still and it appears, the bandages are greatly in need of changing," Aragorn looked at the bloody, filthy wrappings with a frown. He picked Sam up and placed him on his hip. "I shall carry you, and when we get to Frodo's room I plan to change those wrappings."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Strider, sir. I wouldn't let the healers touch them, in case you came for me whilst they were workin' on 'em. They weren't real pleased with me neither, with me not takin' their medicines and all," Sam said.
Aragorn's expression turned to one of concern. "Sam, you can not continue to neglect your health. It would not bode well for Frodo if you became ill yourself." The King said this carefully, his eyes surreptitiously shifting over to see Sam's reaction. He knew of Sam's deep devotion to his master and by using Frodo as an excuse, hoped to manipulate Sam into taking better care of himself.
"I am a ninny hammer! I guess I just weren't thinkin', me bein' so worried about him and all," Sam exclaimed. Aragorn smiled slightly as they walked into Frodo's room.
Frodo was curled up on his left side, his right hand held against his chest. Although his eyes were closed, his breaths were coming in rapid pants and his face wore the distinct expression of someone in anguish.
"Saleth, is there a problem?" he queried.
"No, my Lord. The bleeding has lessened but not completely stopped. I was about to insert another bolus."
"Now I understand the look of apprehension on Frodo's face," Aragorn said with a grimace. He whispered to Sam. "Sam, Frodo does not yet know that you are here, perhaps if you would hold his hand and comfort him. Remember, no loud noises or sudden movements. Frodo's nervous system is till recovering and it takes little to agitate him, which in turn, effects him bodily in an adverse way," Aragorn whispered. When he saw Sam's confused stare, he smiled and said "It makes him sick."
"Oh, I see what yer sayin'. Don't you worry none, I'll see to me Master," said Sam. Aragorn set him down and he slowly walked over to Frodo's bedside and took the clenched fist in his own small hand. Frodo's eyes slowly opened and he smiled slowly as he saw Sam by his side.
"Sam, oh...Sam..I have missed you so," he whispered, his voice cracking. Tears now ran down his face and onto his pillow.
"Frodo, absolutely no talking," admonished Aragorn with a look at Saleth.
"He yearns to express himself, my Lord," Saleth smiled. "It would be hard indeed to see your loved ones and not be able to speak with them," he continued.
"Yes, I understand. But we must curtail all use of his throat until the bleeding is fully stopped, or risk another tear," said Aragorn sadly.
Frodo continued to smile at Sam and Sam was more than happy to return the favor. He spoke to Frodo softly and caressed his arm. Saleth moved to the bed and pulled back the counterpane revealing only Frodo's backside. Again, Frodo began to breathe rapidly and drops of perspiration appeared on his upper lip and forehead.
"There, there, Mr. Frodo. These healers are tryin' ta make you better. They don't mean no harm. I know about them boluses. Me mum used to give them to me when I was a wee lad. It's a might humiliatin' and uncomfortable but it sure does the trick, if you see my point, Master Frodo. It'll make you right as rain, it will. So you just relax and I'll not leave your side, maybe a little song would help. Would ya like that, Mr. Frodo?" Frodo opened his eyes a crack and nodded, then closed them again. Sam began a soft melody, one the elves had taught him in Rivendell. He knew his elvish was atrocious but while singing, the words fairly flowed effortlessly off his tongue, creating a haunting, beautiful ballad. He saw that he was having the desired effect, as Frodo began to slowly relax, his breathing becoming more deep and regular, his face took on a calm, serene appearance.
Saleth slowly inserted the bolus into Frodo's tiny bottom. Frodo's eyes opened wide and a small gasp escaped his lips. He whimpered and then his eyes slid shut.
"See now, Master, it's all done and no one's the worse for it," said Sam soothingly.
Aragorn took Saleth aside to speak out of earshot of the hobbits. "How fares he, truly, Saleth?" asked the King.
"He improves each day. The bleeding and swelling in his throat has receded." He hesitated, a troubled look on his face.
"What troubles you so then, Master Healer?" asked Aragorn.
"We have been feeding him the cream with honey, comfrey, echinacea, myrrh and poppy extract about every hour," he hesitated. Aragorn nodded for him to continue. "I noticed at each dose he becomes more and more agitated at the mixture's arrival and tries to gulp it. I fear he has developed an addiction to the poppy's effects," he finished sadly.
"Is he in much pain?" asked Aragorn, alarmed at this news.
"Yes, I am sorry to say he still is. Otherwise, I would have reduced the dose to wean him from it."
"Perhaps the pain is a phantom one, as it becomes closer to the time of his next dosing. The addictive effects have possibly created the illusion of pain," prompted Aragorn.
"Perhaps. Yet when he becomes stressed or excited he begins to fever and retch, so I have not tested this theory as yet," replied Saleth.
"When is his next dosing?" asked Aragorn.
"I was about to give it to him now, my King. But first I wished to speak with you and give him a thick soup with pureed vegetables in a heavy meat base." Aragorn nodded. Saleth approached the bed and pulled Frodo into a semi- reclining position against his chest.
"I can do that, Mr. Saleth. I'd like to take care of me Master, no offense intended to you," Sam said softly.
"None taken, Master Samwise. Why don't you support Frodo and I will feed him. Would that be acceptable?"
Sam grinned and said "Aye, sir. I'd be delighted."
Saleth lifted Sam to the head of the bed and settled Frodo so that his head rested against Sam's left shoulder.
"Thank....you....Sam," came a whispered voice. A small smile formed on Frodo's pale face.
"I will not mention this again, Master Baggins, you will not speak. Each time you do so, it risks further bleeding. Do we understand each other?" Saleth said sternly. Frodo nodded, but had a twinkle in his eye that neither Saleth nor Aragorn had seen for a long time.
The cream mixture was brought and placed on the bedside table. Frodo's eyes followed the orderly as he brought the mixture in and placed it within reach of the healer. Aragorn noted Frodo's eyes stayed riveted on the mixture and held an unsettling, glazed appearance --- the unmistakable look of need. Frodo licked his chapped lips and swallowed several times as his mouth began to water at the prospect of the cream and honey mixture. This too, was noticed by both Saleth and Aragorn. Aragorn groaned inwardly. There was only one way to truly test what he suspected, and he flinched at the thought of the possible outcome.
Saleth retrieved the broth mixture. At first, Frodo refused, not really wanting the broth but the other mixture in it's stead. Aragorn went to the side table, took the milk mixture and made to exit the room. Frodo's mouth dropped open and a thin wail issued forth.
"It's all right, Frodo. I will return with your medicine as soon as you have finished your broth," Aragorn said slowly. Frodo turned back to Saleth and opened his mouth, allowing Saleth to slowly begin feeding him. Each swallow was met with a stabbing, burning pain. But he knew, if he could just get through the ordeal, he could have the milk and honey mixture which always made him feel inordinately better. Aragorn left the room and went to the dispensary. He approached the healer.
"I would like this mixture re-made with half of the poppy extract it normally has," he said.
"Very well, my Lord," said the healer. The mixture was quickly made and Aragorn took it back to Frodo's room. Frodo's eyes had not left the doorway, and when Aragorn returned he issued an audible sigh of relief. He had only eaten about half of the broth mixture but now turned his head to indicate he was full.
"All right, let's get you your medicine and let you rest a bit," said Saleth. He reached over, taking the cup from Aragorn's hand. They exchanged a brief glance, and Aragorn nodded. Frodo now looked anxiously at the cup and eagerly tried to reach out and grasp it with his shaking hands. His face was flushed and the perspiration now ran down from his forehead.
"Easy, Mr. Frodo, Saleth will take care of you, but you have ta take your medicine," he cajoled, completely misinterpreting the tenseness he now felt in his master's thin frame.
Saleth brought the cup to Frodo's lips and he gulped greedily. "Master Baggins," he said pulling the cup away, eliciting a panicked look on the ringbearer's thin face. Aragorn winced as he watched. "You will drink slowly--no gulping, or I will remove the cup," the healer admonished. A stricken look crossed Frodo's face,. The cup was again pressed to his lips and this time, Frodo slowly swallowed the contents. There was pain, but Frodo hardly noticed as the effects of the drug began to surge through him, making it bearable. His eyes half closed in a look of rapture as he was returned, once again, to that place of soft, unfocused oblivion. He let himself drift in this divine plane, feeling naught but a warm fuzziness in his mind. The cup was emptied, his face was wiped and he was lain down and nestled into his blankets, curled on his side as before.
"Sam, why don't you rest with him," Aragorn murmured in a somewhat sad voice.
"Thank you, Strider. I'll just curl up here against him so he knows I'm here for 'em," said Sam happily. Frodo's eyes had closed, his body totally relaxed. Sam climbed under the covers, curling up around Frodo's back and placing one arm protectively over his Master.
Aragorn turned to Saleth and said quietly,"I believe we have problem with our small patient, but we will know for sure before the hour has passed," he said grimly. Aragorn and Saleth gazed sadly at the two sleeping forms. Aragorn felt a tight band of anguish in his chest. If what was happening to Frodo was true, the next few days would be very difficult. He's been through so much, he thought. More than any of us. Please Eru, I pray you spare him this time, he pleaded to himself.
To be continued