Moria's Revenge, Chapter 28: Learned
Authors: Kookaburra and Llinos
Beta and additional material: MarigoldG
****
Sam buried his face into a corner of Frodo's cloak and sobbed. His chest heaved painfully against the walls of his ribs. All Sam could think of was what would he do if Frodo did not make it this time. How could he bear to live? Who would serve the Ringbearer? Where would he find the strength?
Haldir assisted Silael in getting Frodo's clothes off. First his outer cloak, which he had to prise from Sam, then Silael started on the buttons of the tiny perian's waistcoat. A movement caught his eye, and he looked down. Sam had taken the dropped cloak, and was numbly folding it into a neat bundle, not seeming to notice the crimson blood staining his hands.
"Here, young Samwise." said Haldir. Sam looked up at him and blinked as if seeing him for the first time. "When we take off Frodo's garments, would you help us by folding them and giving them to an attendant? They will see to it that the clothes are washed and mended." Sam nodded mutely and accepted the waistcoat that Silael offered him, a fresh round of tears starting as he looked at the torn and bloodied shoulder fabric.
As Silael gently peeled away the soft linen shirt, he caught his breath at the sight of Frodo's shoulder. The flesh was torn and raw, with a slick green slime covering it. Haldir frowned at it.
"How odd." He commented, and reached down to gently swab some off with a soft cloth. "I do not know much of the nature of wargs, but this does not seem to be lupine saliva." Silael and Aragorn examined the cloth.
"How odd indeed." replied Silael. "Yet, there are wolves with brownish saliva, perhaps it is some foul twist the Darkness has given to the breed."
"We should probably keep this." Aragorn said, folding the cloth in on itself, "It may provide enlightenment later."
0-****-0
Silael washed the torn shoulder and pronounced the good news that no ligaments had been cut. "But he will not be able to use that arm for several weeks, if it is to heal properly." Silael spoke as if he thought Frodo would live, but he actually doubted the small perian would make it through the next sun-cycle, unless through a direct act of the Valar. He saw no reason to point that out in front of Samwise, however, as it would only cause him more grief.
Aragorn had undone the buttons on Frodo's breeches, and reached under the small body to lift and support it as he pulled them free. His hand touched some odd, sharp corners, and was soon slick with blood. Praying desperately that he was not touching fractured bone he drew his hand away.
"Silael, is it safe to turn Frodo over? I fear he has a grievous wound on his back." Aragorn held up his bloody hand as evidence. Silael nodded curtly and signalled to Haldir. Together they lifted up Frodo and Aragorn placed several soft pads under him to alleviate the pressure on his windpipe. Then, turning him over, the two elves laid Frodo on his stomach.
Samwise gave a heartrending cry and renewed his sobbing at the sight of Frodo's back. It was bloody and lacerated, with bits of broken glass from the floor still in the wounds.
"Quickly! Silael called to one of the elves. "Bring a probe, scalpel, and tweezers, and prepare a wolfsbane poultice!" As the aide scrambled to do his bidding, Silael quickly examined the rest of Frodo's body for injuries. A peculiar bruising pattern was starting on the perian's neck, and not in the teeth marks he had expected. It looked more as if something with hands had tried to throttle the life from Frodo.
When the aide brought the necessary tools, Sam examined them carefully. Elves or no, he was very suspicious about the cruel looking metal things Silael was now cleaning.
"What are you going to do to Mister Frodo?" Asked Sam worriedly. "Don't stick those things into him, please. . ."
"Sam," Strider tried to calm him. "Steady on. This will be no worse than when I had to operate on Pippin. You were there, and you did wonderfully well."
"B-but Mr. Strider, sir! Th-this is my Mr Frodo, I mean not that it didn't tear me up to have poor Mr. Pippin go through it, but. . ."
Strider could see that Frodo needed the glass taken out quickly, and despite his devotion, Sam was holding up the process. Aragorn gave a significant look to Haldir, who walked around the bed and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Come with me, young perian," said the elf, "we will go and find if there is anything that needs to be done in the main chamber."
"NO! I can't leave Mr. Frodo!" Sam's voice broke and he was unable to continue.
Strider knelt down and embraced the hobbit, "Sam you do trust me, don't you? It was not your fault Sam. Perhaps it was mine for lowering my guard and believing we were in a haven. Nowhere is truly safe as long as the Quest continues." Aragorn released Sam, "Now go with Haldir and I will call you when we have finished tending to Frodo." With that the grief stricken hobbit allowed himself to be led from the room by Haldir.
"Now," said Silael, turning his attention to Frodo's savaged back, "let us begin."
0-****-0
Back in the main chamber, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli were assisting with the elves that were injured in the talan collapse. All three looked up as Sam and Haldir stepped into the room, Sam with tears running down his cheeks, his face a picture of distress.
"Sam?" Boromir gasped. He assumed, as did Legolas and Gimli, that only one thing could make Sam look so haggard. Frodo was dead.
Haldir realised what they must be thinking, "The halfling lives yet." He nodded discretely towards Sam, then added, "but Aragorn and Silael have much to do."
Boromir let out a captured breath, "That is good news for now. Do they know what assailed him yet?"
"They believe he was attacked by some creature but are not certain of its origin," Haldir went on, "although it could be wolf-like."
"It is good that you are here." Melystra came up to them from tending to the rescued elves. "We are pressed to care for all the injured and need all of the help we can muster."
The next few hours passed in a blur for Sam, soon his world narrowed to helping the healers, holding together torn flesh for suturing, or handing instruments to waiting hands. But few minutes passed that he did not look worriedly over at the door that blocked his view to the room where his master lay, clinging to life.
0-****-0
Aragorn and Silael hunched over Frodo's back, each with a pair of tweezers, picking out shards of glass and placing them in a bowl next to the bed. Frodo stirred and whimpered softly. Aragorn stroked his head, and placed a comforting kiss on his cheek.
"Shh, Frodo," he soothed, "all is well, just rest."
Frodo was lost in a hazy world. Breathing was so hard, it hurt his throat terribly, and he longed to simply rest and sink into the warm, comfort that manifested whenever he did. But then it would be ripped away by rough lips on his own, forcing air into him, causing excruciating pain as they made him breathe. He couldn't rest, he had to hold on, but it was so hard, and he was so tired...
Then a new torment had begun. His back felt as if it was on fire, the pain ripping away the fog that cushioned him from the outside world. But then as he got too close to surfacing, the pain increased and sent him back down into the depths, how long he was trapped in limbo like this, he couldn't tell, but eventually the probing on his back ceased, and the last thing he felt before he slipped into the welcoming dark was a soft, comforting kiss on his cheek.
0-****-0
The Lady Galadriel knew from each time she had briefly touched Pippin's mind that it was in a delicate and fragile state. She was loath to delve directly into his memory for fear of causing even more damage to the already battered and broken psyche. The little one barely knew what was real and what was nightmare any longer.
But she touched Merry's mind and, although there was much anguish and pain relating directly to what had happened to his baby cousin, his thinking was still whole and healthy and his reasoning ability sound, more so than many people she had encountered.
"Pippin? Pippin my lamb," Merry found himself saying, "Can you hear me? Do you know what I'm saying?"
Pippin shook his head and then nodded. He was still confused and upset.
"Pippin, just say something for me." Merry prompted again, although the voice was his the words were not, albeit they felt quite natural in his mind.
"Frodo, Umumum?" Pippin muttered again, his brow furrowed and the panic obvious. "I know, my sweet," Merry squeezed him close. This time the words were his, as was the hug. "Don't be afraid, I'm here now." Galadriel added through his voice. "Say my name, say Merry."
"Merry." Pippin whispered, looking up at him. "Merry, Frodo, where's Frodo? Is Umumum still gone?"
"Pippin, you have to be very brave," Merry whispered. "I know you've been everso brave today and I need you to tell me about what happened to Frodo and Umumum. Were they fighting?"
"Yes." Pippin said it so quietly he could barely be heard.
Galadriel frowned a little and sent another question. "Were they fighting with each other?"
"No, Merry," Pippin breathed. "Umumum's not bad, Merry. Will she get better?"
"I don't think so, my Pip." Merry was not sure what to say. He did not want to upset Pip further but he could not lie to him about Icicle, it would only make it worse when he found out the truth.
Pippin looked up at his bigger cousin. "Why Merry? Why did the elf kill Umumum?"
"He thought she was fighting Frodo." Merry tried to explain.
Pippin burrowed his head into Merry's side and sobbed. So it was true Umumum was dead just as he thought. He didn't understand, they had kept telling him he was safe now and that everything would be all right, but then Frodo had been hurt and an elf had killed Umumum.
Galadriel could see they were not making progress. Pippin was too distressed still, he was now crying again and it would be sometime before he could speak. Slowly she reached forward to Merry again and placed her hand on his head. Merry lifted his eyes up to her but did not try to move, although he trembled a little at the contact. He could feel the Lady elf touching his thoughts, flittering on the edge of his mind, not intrusively, but looking at the pictures in his head with a kindly eye.
Then, through him, Merry felt them both move on and into Pippin's thoughts. The smaller hobbit clenched Merry's arm hard as he felt the first touch against his memory. He whimpered as if in pain and Merry and Galadriel could see nothing at first except a whirlpool of frightening colours. Bright red, black, orange, purple and dark green swirled in a cacophony of jagged patterns. The Merry almost cried out in anguish at the turmoil that was Pip's mind, but Galadriel held him firmly with her thoughts.
As they swam through the jumble of frightening images Galadriel pushed Merry a little way beyond the visual receptacle of memory so that he found a pool of unlinked thoughts and impressions. They seemed to be cast in shadow and gloom, a great sense of dread and worthlessness hung over the centre of Pippin's recent memory, coupled now, most recently with a sense of betrayal. What was that? Merry, with a little nudge from Galadriel, fished after the elusive thought. Pippin could not understand how Umumum had been killed and Frodo hurt after he had been told everything would be all right? He felt betrayed and frightened, nothing was real, everything was a lie, no one could be trusted.
Merry felt himself touch Pippin's mind like a caress, he did not know how he did it, but the sensation seemed most natural, as if he were touching him softly with his hand, stroking his inner soul. Galadriel smiled at each tiny contact Merry made with Pippin's thoughts and every fingertip kiss elicited a little point of light, a gleaming star that made Pippin crane towards it.
Gradually the glowing light began to grow greater than the gloom and blackness, the despair started to give way to hope. Pippin reached out for Merry feeling more of his bright light, letting the glow of his love wrap him in comfort and sanity.
Merry glanced up to see Galadriel's expression, but it had not changed. She sent another question now that Pippin was calmer. "Tell me what happened Pip." Merry whispered.
"It. . . was something came, Merry." Pippin was trembling with the memory, but at least he was talking.
"What did the something look like, Pip my sweet?" Merry coaxed gently, Galadriel was letting him control the questions now.
"It skin and. . . it bones. . . scared me." Pippin held Merry's arm tightly, squeezing until it hurt.
"Did it fight Frodo?" Merry winced a little at the pain of Pippin's grip, but made no attempt to loosen it.
Pippin nodded in affirmative. "Bad, very bad Merry. I was very scared, couldn't shout, I was too scared. See Merry, when I cried before it got worse, so I couldn't."
"I know, my love." Merry loosened the grip on his arm and hugged Pippin close. "I know, but I'm here now and I won't let anything hurt you. Did Icicle, did Umumum fight the something?"
Pippin nodded again. "Umumum got through the door and was so angry, but with the something. She bit it and growled and everything. It was very scaring, Merry, I didn't know what to do. Frodo was lying down and I couldn't move and Umumum was fighting the something and I couldn't move Merry, couldn't do anything!"
"Of course you couldn't, Pip." Merry stroked his baby cousin's hair, "You're ill Pippin, you couldn't help, but you've helped now by telling what happened. Do you remember anything about what the something looked like?"
"Like a big hobbit, but grown very old and thin, I think it was like that." Pippin furrowed his brow as he tried to remember exactly. "Not like an orc, not like a goblin, but scaring too, too much."
"Do you think, Pip?" Merry suddenly realised that Pippin's description matched that of the creature from Bilbo's stories of his adventures, "Do you think it was Gollum? The thing that Bilbo told us about."
"I don't know Merry," Pippin thought about this. "Might be, what did he want?" "The Ring, Pip," Merry looked up at Galadriel, her hand still resting lightly on his fair curls. "Do you think it was he, Milady?"
She lifted her hand away now, touching Pippin lightly on his head before stepping away from the two hobbits. "Yes Merry, I believe you are right." Galadriel looked sadly at Pippin who was now curled up into Merry as close as he could get, quivering still with grief and sadness.
Galadriel looked at her fingertips that had brushed the perian's brow and sighed at the enormous pain that was there. It was the pain of loss for his Umumum. The warg had represented the only spark of hope that had remained with the little one in Moria, the only glimmer of comfort and kindness through his long ordeal and now she was gone.
But worse, for the warg, the healing mother, had died unjustly by the hand of one of her own. She had died defending the Ringbearer. Justice had failed and failed in Lothlórien. Galadriel herself was saddened to the centre of her being.
0-****-0
TBC
If anyone wants to read this story in its original NC-17 form, see my author bio page for links to it.
Authors: Kookaburra and Llinos
Beta and additional material: MarigoldG
****
Sam buried his face into a corner of Frodo's cloak and sobbed. His chest heaved painfully against the walls of his ribs. All Sam could think of was what would he do if Frodo did not make it this time. How could he bear to live? Who would serve the Ringbearer? Where would he find the strength?
Haldir assisted Silael in getting Frodo's clothes off. First his outer cloak, which he had to prise from Sam, then Silael started on the buttons of the tiny perian's waistcoat. A movement caught his eye, and he looked down. Sam had taken the dropped cloak, and was numbly folding it into a neat bundle, not seeming to notice the crimson blood staining his hands.
"Here, young Samwise." said Haldir. Sam looked up at him and blinked as if seeing him for the first time. "When we take off Frodo's garments, would you help us by folding them and giving them to an attendant? They will see to it that the clothes are washed and mended." Sam nodded mutely and accepted the waistcoat that Silael offered him, a fresh round of tears starting as he looked at the torn and bloodied shoulder fabric.
As Silael gently peeled away the soft linen shirt, he caught his breath at the sight of Frodo's shoulder. The flesh was torn and raw, with a slick green slime covering it. Haldir frowned at it.
"How odd." He commented, and reached down to gently swab some off with a soft cloth. "I do not know much of the nature of wargs, but this does not seem to be lupine saliva." Silael and Aragorn examined the cloth.
"How odd indeed." replied Silael. "Yet, there are wolves with brownish saliva, perhaps it is some foul twist the Darkness has given to the breed."
"We should probably keep this." Aragorn said, folding the cloth in on itself, "It may provide enlightenment later."
0-****-0
Silael washed the torn shoulder and pronounced the good news that no ligaments had been cut. "But he will not be able to use that arm for several weeks, if it is to heal properly." Silael spoke as if he thought Frodo would live, but he actually doubted the small perian would make it through the next sun-cycle, unless through a direct act of the Valar. He saw no reason to point that out in front of Samwise, however, as it would only cause him more grief.
Aragorn had undone the buttons on Frodo's breeches, and reached under the small body to lift and support it as he pulled them free. His hand touched some odd, sharp corners, and was soon slick with blood. Praying desperately that he was not touching fractured bone he drew his hand away.
"Silael, is it safe to turn Frodo over? I fear he has a grievous wound on his back." Aragorn held up his bloody hand as evidence. Silael nodded curtly and signalled to Haldir. Together they lifted up Frodo and Aragorn placed several soft pads under him to alleviate the pressure on his windpipe. Then, turning him over, the two elves laid Frodo on his stomach.
Samwise gave a heartrending cry and renewed his sobbing at the sight of Frodo's back. It was bloody and lacerated, with bits of broken glass from the floor still in the wounds.
"Quickly! Silael called to one of the elves. "Bring a probe, scalpel, and tweezers, and prepare a wolfsbane poultice!" As the aide scrambled to do his bidding, Silael quickly examined the rest of Frodo's body for injuries. A peculiar bruising pattern was starting on the perian's neck, and not in the teeth marks he had expected. It looked more as if something with hands had tried to throttle the life from Frodo.
When the aide brought the necessary tools, Sam examined them carefully. Elves or no, he was very suspicious about the cruel looking metal things Silael was now cleaning.
"What are you going to do to Mister Frodo?" Asked Sam worriedly. "Don't stick those things into him, please. . ."
"Sam," Strider tried to calm him. "Steady on. This will be no worse than when I had to operate on Pippin. You were there, and you did wonderfully well."
"B-but Mr. Strider, sir! Th-this is my Mr Frodo, I mean not that it didn't tear me up to have poor Mr. Pippin go through it, but. . ."
Strider could see that Frodo needed the glass taken out quickly, and despite his devotion, Sam was holding up the process. Aragorn gave a significant look to Haldir, who walked around the bed and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Come with me, young perian," said the elf, "we will go and find if there is anything that needs to be done in the main chamber."
"NO! I can't leave Mr. Frodo!" Sam's voice broke and he was unable to continue.
Strider knelt down and embraced the hobbit, "Sam you do trust me, don't you? It was not your fault Sam. Perhaps it was mine for lowering my guard and believing we were in a haven. Nowhere is truly safe as long as the Quest continues." Aragorn released Sam, "Now go with Haldir and I will call you when we have finished tending to Frodo." With that the grief stricken hobbit allowed himself to be led from the room by Haldir.
"Now," said Silael, turning his attention to Frodo's savaged back, "let us begin."
0-****-0
Back in the main chamber, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli were assisting with the elves that were injured in the talan collapse. All three looked up as Sam and Haldir stepped into the room, Sam with tears running down his cheeks, his face a picture of distress.
"Sam?" Boromir gasped. He assumed, as did Legolas and Gimli, that only one thing could make Sam look so haggard. Frodo was dead.
Haldir realised what they must be thinking, "The halfling lives yet." He nodded discretely towards Sam, then added, "but Aragorn and Silael have much to do."
Boromir let out a captured breath, "That is good news for now. Do they know what assailed him yet?"
"They believe he was attacked by some creature but are not certain of its origin," Haldir went on, "although it could be wolf-like."
"It is good that you are here." Melystra came up to them from tending to the rescued elves. "We are pressed to care for all the injured and need all of the help we can muster."
The next few hours passed in a blur for Sam, soon his world narrowed to helping the healers, holding together torn flesh for suturing, or handing instruments to waiting hands. But few minutes passed that he did not look worriedly over at the door that blocked his view to the room where his master lay, clinging to life.
0-****-0
Aragorn and Silael hunched over Frodo's back, each with a pair of tweezers, picking out shards of glass and placing them in a bowl next to the bed. Frodo stirred and whimpered softly. Aragorn stroked his head, and placed a comforting kiss on his cheek.
"Shh, Frodo," he soothed, "all is well, just rest."
Frodo was lost in a hazy world. Breathing was so hard, it hurt his throat terribly, and he longed to simply rest and sink into the warm, comfort that manifested whenever he did. But then it would be ripped away by rough lips on his own, forcing air into him, causing excruciating pain as they made him breathe. He couldn't rest, he had to hold on, but it was so hard, and he was so tired...
Then a new torment had begun. His back felt as if it was on fire, the pain ripping away the fog that cushioned him from the outside world. But then as he got too close to surfacing, the pain increased and sent him back down into the depths, how long he was trapped in limbo like this, he couldn't tell, but eventually the probing on his back ceased, and the last thing he felt before he slipped into the welcoming dark was a soft, comforting kiss on his cheek.
0-****-0
The Lady Galadriel knew from each time she had briefly touched Pippin's mind that it was in a delicate and fragile state. She was loath to delve directly into his memory for fear of causing even more damage to the already battered and broken psyche. The little one barely knew what was real and what was nightmare any longer.
But she touched Merry's mind and, although there was much anguish and pain relating directly to what had happened to his baby cousin, his thinking was still whole and healthy and his reasoning ability sound, more so than many people she had encountered.
"Pippin? Pippin my lamb," Merry found himself saying, "Can you hear me? Do you know what I'm saying?"
Pippin shook his head and then nodded. He was still confused and upset.
"Pippin, just say something for me." Merry prompted again, although the voice was his the words were not, albeit they felt quite natural in his mind.
"Frodo, Umumum?" Pippin muttered again, his brow furrowed and the panic obvious. "I know, my sweet," Merry squeezed him close. This time the words were his, as was the hug. "Don't be afraid, I'm here now." Galadriel added through his voice. "Say my name, say Merry."
"Merry." Pippin whispered, looking up at him. "Merry, Frodo, where's Frodo? Is Umumum still gone?"
"Pippin, you have to be very brave," Merry whispered. "I know you've been everso brave today and I need you to tell me about what happened to Frodo and Umumum. Were they fighting?"
"Yes." Pippin said it so quietly he could barely be heard.
Galadriel frowned a little and sent another question. "Were they fighting with each other?"
"No, Merry," Pippin breathed. "Umumum's not bad, Merry. Will she get better?"
"I don't think so, my Pip." Merry was not sure what to say. He did not want to upset Pip further but he could not lie to him about Icicle, it would only make it worse when he found out the truth.
Pippin looked up at his bigger cousin. "Why Merry? Why did the elf kill Umumum?"
"He thought she was fighting Frodo." Merry tried to explain.
Pippin burrowed his head into Merry's side and sobbed. So it was true Umumum was dead just as he thought. He didn't understand, they had kept telling him he was safe now and that everything would be all right, but then Frodo had been hurt and an elf had killed Umumum.
Galadriel could see they were not making progress. Pippin was too distressed still, he was now crying again and it would be sometime before he could speak. Slowly she reached forward to Merry again and placed her hand on his head. Merry lifted his eyes up to her but did not try to move, although he trembled a little at the contact. He could feel the Lady elf touching his thoughts, flittering on the edge of his mind, not intrusively, but looking at the pictures in his head with a kindly eye.
Then, through him, Merry felt them both move on and into Pippin's thoughts. The smaller hobbit clenched Merry's arm hard as he felt the first touch against his memory. He whimpered as if in pain and Merry and Galadriel could see nothing at first except a whirlpool of frightening colours. Bright red, black, orange, purple and dark green swirled in a cacophony of jagged patterns. The Merry almost cried out in anguish at the turmoil that was Pip's mind, but Galadriel held him firmly with her thoughts.
As they swam through the jumble of frightening images Galadriel pushed Merry a little way beyond the visual receptacle of memory so that he found a pool of unlinked thoughts and impressions. They seemed to be cast in shadow and gloom, a great sense of dread and worthlessness hung over the centre of Pippin's recent memory, coupled now, most recently with a sense of betrayal. What was that? Merry, with a little nudge from Galadriel, fished after the elusive thought. Pippin could not understand how Umumum had been killed and Frodo hurt after he had been told everything would be all right? He felt betrayed and frightened, nothing was real, everything was a lie, no one could be trusted.
Merry felt himself touch Pippin's mind like a caress, he did not know how he did it, but the sensation seemed most natural, as if he were touching him softly with his hand, stroking his inner soul. Galadriel smiled at each tiny contact Merry made with Pippin's thoughts and every fingertip kiss elicited a little point of light, a gleaming star that made Pippin crane towards it.
Gradually the glowing light began to grow greater than the gloom and blackness, the despair started to give way to hope. Pippin reached out for Merry feeling more of his bright light, letting the glow of his love wrap him in comfort and sanity.
Merry glanced up to see Galadriel's expression, but it had not changed. She sent another question now that Pippin was calmer. "Tell me what happened Pip." Merry whispered.
"It. . . was something came, Merry." Pippin was trembling with the memory, but at least he was talking.
"What did the something look like, Pip my sweet?" Merry coaxed gently, Galadriel was letting him control the questions now.
"It skin and. . . it bones. . . scared me." Pippin held Merry's arm tightly, squeezing until it hurt.
"Did it fight Frodo?" Merry winced a little at the pain of Pippin's grip, but made no attempt to loosen it.
Pippin nodded in affirmative. "Bad, very bad Merry. I was very scared, couldn't shout, I was too scared. See Merry, when I cried before it got worse, so I couldn't."
"I know, my love." Merry loosened the grip on his arm and hugged Pippin close. "I know, but I'm here now and I won't let anything hurt you. Did Icicle, did Umumum fight the something?"
Pippin nodded again. "Umumum got through the door and was so angry, but with the something. She bit it and growled and everything. It was very scaring, Merry, I didn't know what to do. Frodo was lying down and I couldn't move and Umumum was fighting the something and I couldn't move Merry, couldn't do anything!"
"Of course you couldn't, Pip." Merry stroked his baby cousin's hair, "You're ill Pippin, you couldn't help, but you've helped now by telling what happened. Do you remember anything about what the something looked like?"
"Like a big hobbit, but grown very old and thin, I think it was like that." Pippin furrowed his brow as he tried to remember exactly. "Not like an orc, not like a goblin, but scaring too, too much."
"Do you think, Pip?" Merry suddenly realised that Pippin's description matched that of the creature from Bilbo's stories of his adventures, "Do you think it was Gollum? The thing that Bilbo told us about."
"I don't know Merry," Pippin thought about this. "Might be, what did he want?" "The Ring, Pip," Merry looked up at Galadriel, her hand still resting lightly on his fair curls. "Do you think it was he, Milady?"
She lifted her hand away now, touching Pippin lightly on his head before stepping away from the two hobbits. "Yes Merry, I believe you are right." Galadriel looked sadly at Pippin who was now curled up into Merry as close as he could get, quivering still with grief and sadness.
Galadriel looked at her fingertips that had brushed the perian's brow and sighed at the enormous pain that was there. It was the pain of loss for his Umumum. The warg had represented the only spark of hope that had remained with the little one in Moria, the only glimmer of comfort and kindness through his long ordeal and now she was gone.
But worse, for the warg, the healing mother, had died unjustly by the hand of one of her own. She had died defending the Ringbearer. Justice had failed and failed in Lothlórien. Galadriel herself was saddened to the centre of her being.
0-****-0
TBC
If anyone wants to read this story in its original NC-17 form, see my author bio page for links to it.