Moria's Revenge, Chapter 32: Wakened
Authors: Kookaburra and Llinos
Beta and Additional Material Marigold
Feedback: p_holbytla@earthlink.net
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Frodo was floating on a sea of mist. The weight that had been on his chest was gone, and it was no longer tempting to give up trying to breathe. The pain was much less too, just a minor annoyance in the back of his mind. There were voices...faint murmurings that should have meant something to him, but did not.
He strained to open his eyes, but apparently someone had sewn them shut. The confusing babble around him slowly became understandable and finally he was able to catch part of a phrase.
"...the incredible things that can happen when we forgive someone, Samwise..." The voice was familiar, and Frodo's sluggish mind thought hard and eventually labelled the speaker as Aragorn.
"Is it - well I mean - is it some kind of - of magic?" Samwise? Sam. That was Sam's voice. Oh, how he needed Sam right now. It was such a struggle to just remain conscious, but whatever was wrong with him he knew his Sam would help him through it. There was another voice as well, an elvish voice that Frodo thought he should recognize but could not quite place, and he could sense that several others, friends he thought, were in the room with him besides, but he could not open his eyes to see who they were.
He heard the sounds of people leaving and fought to make some sound or movement to attract their attention. 'No! Don't leave me alone!' Frodo thought frantically. Then he heard muffled speech coming from somewhere across the room and realized he had not been left completely alone. There was still Sam's voice and Aragorn's. Were they speaking about him? He thought he could just make out his name in their hushed conversation, but still, try as he might he could make no response. He wanted to call out to them but he seemed to have been stricken mute as well as blind. The weary hobbit made one more colossal effort to open his eyes. This time they revealed the merest sliver of light, the brightness of which hurt his head, yet he stubbornly refused to close them again. Redoubling his efforts, Frodo managed to open his eyes just about halfway. It was now much easier to keep them open, and as his pupils adjusted to the light in the chamber, he looked around, wondering where he was, using just his eyes as he seemed unable to move his head. He was just able to make out Aragorn rummaging in a sideboard with his back to Frodo.
As his senses returned more fully Frodo realized he was on his back, seemingly very high up in a vast bed. Not a hobbit bed then he thought, then realized what a silly thought that was. It seemed years since he had slept in the comfort of a real hobbit sized bed. The intricately carved ceiling was certainly of Elvish craftsmanship but this was not Rivendell... it was... Lórien. They had reached Lórien hadn't they? Yes, that was where they were. But this was not the pavilion he had been sharing with his companions. This looked strangely like a part of the healing quarters where he had spent so much time with Pippin.
He wanted to crane his neck and investigate his surroundings further, but that part of his body didn't seem to work. In fact, he realized, fighting down a growing sense of panic, none of his body seemed to want to work. He tried vainly to move just a finger, but the stubborn digit remained steadfastly still on the coverlet. It was as if his mind was trapped in someone else's body, a body that refused to obey his commands.
How had he come to be here? Something must have happened to him. Had he fallen ill? He remembered playing with Pippin, and then settling down in a chair for the night to keep watch over his small cousin. But what had happened after that? Something bad. Something bad had happened. He forced himself to concentrate on the memory that was teasing the edges of his consciousness, a frightening memory.
Gollum! Frodo remembered in panic what had befallen. Gollum had tried to take the Ring from him! He knew without having to touch the evil thing that the foul creature had not succeeded in his attempt. Frodo still felt the weight around his neck, and heard clearly the constant whispering in his recesses of his mind. Gollum had failed...but how? Obviously Frodo had fallen in the sly being's attack. Yet he had been saved. The Ring had been saved. How?
Icicle! It must have been she! Frodo suddenly remembered a blur of white and a fantastic roar accompanied with the sound of splintering wood just before all went dark. That had to be the answer. Gollum had tried to take the Ring, Frodo had fallen, injured, and Icicle had saved him. Saved the Ring. Saved everything. Frodo felt relief at having finally been able to piece together the events in his befuddled state, but that did not come close to the relief he felt that Gollum had not succeeded. He owed Icicle a debt he could never hope to repay.
But now for a more imperative task. He needed somehow to get the attention of Aragorn and Sam. Did they know what had happened? Frodo did not trust his voice and swallowed a few times, to make sure his throat would carry a sound other than a hoarse wheeze.
"Srri-er..."
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed at the sound of the weak voice coming from the bed that was above his eye level.
Aragorn whirled around and found himself looking at a very awake Frodo. The ranger smiled broadly and crossed to the bedside, taking Frodo's hand.
"Frodo! What a relief that you are finally back with us! We were worried for you my friend. Can you tell me how you feel?"
"Cnn't mmvve..." Frodo mumbled. It was too difficult to move even his lips any more than he had to.
"It's primarily exhaustion, Frodo. Do not fear, it will pass. Sam!" Strider looked down below Frodo's field of vision. "Run please, and fetch Silael!"
Sam was out of the room in a heartbeat calling as he went, "Mr Silael! Mr Silael!" Crossing the common hall in a few strides, he flung open the curtain to the chamber where Pippin was being reunited with his warg. Legolas and Boromir started when he entered, so focused were they on the touching scene playing out before them. Haldir had just got up off his knees and was giving a final pat to both Icicle and Pippin alike.
"Samwise! What brings you in such haste?" queried Silael.
"It's Frodo!" was all Sam could manage, "He's awake! Mr. Strider said to fetch you!"
"Steady young Samwise, I'm on my way." Before the healer could so much as take a step, Sam gasped his thanks and turned and ran back as quickly as he had left and was back beside his master in a moment. A russet mass of curls bobbed over the edge of the bed as Sam jumped up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of Frodo. "Don't worry, Mr. Frodo! Your Sam's here!"
Aragorn smiled, and picked Sam up and set him on the bed. Frodo's heart lifted at the sight of his faithful servant's homely face. The ranger then turned back to Frodo and, clasping his hand again, began asking him questions.
"What's your name, little one?"
Well, this was silly! Why was Aragorn asking him this? However, Frodo trusted the man with his life, and decided that whatever Aragorn asked him was done for good reason.
"Fr-od-" speaking was becoming easier, as he became more alert, and his voice began to recover from disuse.
"What's my name?"
"Rrragrrn..." Aragorn put a hand on Sam's shoulder as the gardener sat beaming down at his master.
"Who is this?"
This time Frodo concentrated on enunciating each sound.
"Ssam." Aragorn smiled. Frodo was becoming more and more coherent. Time now for one more test. He brought his hand up and spread his fingers.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Frodo squinted a bit but could see all the digits.
"f-five..."
"And now?"
"th..th..three..."
"That is excellent Frodo." Aragorn gave Frodo's hand a brief squeeze.
At that moment Silael arrived in the chamber, "How is Frodo, Estel?" the healer asked.
"It has just been a few moments since he awakened." Aragorn said smiling. "He knows who he is and who Sam and I are." Silael was already leaning over the bed and taking Frodo's limp hand. "I also gave him a finger test, and he can see clearly, and comprehend."
"You did well, Estel. Now," Silael smiled down on the pair of droopy blue eyes that looked at him from under the mop of curly dark hair. "How are you feeling, Frodo?"
Frodo's throat hurt too much from his earlier attempts at vocalising, but he managed a weak smile.
Silael smiled back, and began a gentle examination of all of Frodo's hurts. The battered hobbit allowed himself to drift in and out of consciousness, soothed by Sam's warm hand stroking his chilled one.
0-****-0
Pippin turned his face up from Icicle's lush fur.
"Merry! Did Sam say that Frodo is awake?" Pippin's eyes shone with hope and excitement, but waited for Merry to confirm it before he would let himself truly believe that the news was real. "Yes Pip - You heard right. Frodo is awake!"
Merry stroked Pippin's cinnamon curls as he smiled down at his young cousin. He understood why Pippin might be afraid to believe his own ears. Many good things seemed to be coming true at once, and Pip needed to be reassured that all of them were real. So many bad things had happened to the lad that it was no wonder that it was sometimes difficult for him to accept that the good things happening now were reality, and not part of a dream.
Merry smiled at Pippin's resiliency, wondering that his cousin was able to trust in hope at all after all that had happened to him recently. He was so proud of Pip.
The youngest member of the Fellowship had grown up a lot during the Quest, trying as best he could to be counted worthy enough to be included among such doughty warriors, despite his tender youth. Merry had seen Pippin maturing before his eyes, going from grumbling about walking so far every day, to packing half his weight in supplies and firewood up a mountain in a blizzard with nary a word of complaint.
Now, because of the terrible setback he had suffered at the hands of the orcs, Pip had lost some of the maturity he had gained. Merry recognized that his little cousin had made incredible progress from the broken and incoherent mite they had rescued from the orcs of Moria, and hoped that soon Pip would regain the ground that he had lost. Merry had of course loved the childlike Pip from their carefree days in the Shire. He admired the way the responsible Pip, the youngster that had developed over the course of their journey, had kept those carefree childlike qualities but then integrated them into his maturing personality. Merry hoped that Pippin would soon be able to achieve that happy balance again, and continue to move forward. But whatever happened, Merry would love him. He was his Pippin.
Merry squeezed his little cousin a bit tighter- Pippin was here beside him, and Merry would never let anyone take Pippin away from him again - no matter what.
"Mer-ry." Pippin giggled, "You're pinching." The smaller hobbit squirmed a bit to loosen Merry's hold. Merry reluctantly acquiesced, but Pippin kept up his squirming until his face was nuzzling into Icicle's belly.
Ah, of course, Merry reasoned, Pippin wanted to nurse for comfort after being separated from his surrogate mother for so long. While Merry was overjoyed that Icicle lived again, and was able to offer Pippin love and comfort, he was certain that actually nursing would be a step backwards and thought that the habit was a big part of the reason that Pippin was not really getting any better in his mind. He needed to be weaned off the warg if he was going to recover completely.
However, Merry didn't yet have the heart to try and convince Pippin that the one source of "safe" love other than himself should not nourish him anymore. Icicle though, apparently understood as well and abruptly stood up and, while she did not remove herself from Pippin's side, moved to a position that denied him the opportunity to nurse. Pippin raised his head, bewildered, a slightly hurt expression on his face.
"Umumum?" He asked tentatively. Icicle whined and turned around, licking his face and whuffling into his hair. Pippin did not force the issue and settled down to rest his drowsy head against her. Icicle then raised her head and met Merry's eyes. A look of understanding passed between Pippin's two protectors, and Merry smiled, curled up himself next to Pippin and the warg, and closed his own eyes.
0-****-0
Gimli left Pippin and Merry's chamber after bringing Icicle some prime cuts of venison. Merry had awakened when Gimli had entered with the platter of cubed meat, and while Icicle ate hungrily in one corner of the room the older hobbit had filled him in on Pippin's reaction to the return of the warg. Gimli, too, thought it a very positive thing that young Peregrin not revert back to depending on Icicle's milk for sustenance, but understood that it would be hard for the lad. Everything happening to, and around him, must be overwhelming for the little hobbit. Gimli thought about the effect Pippin had on him. The dwarf was not used to feeling this protective over anything but gold and silver, and the emotions he felt troubled him and made him want to do his own part to bring the lad along the path to wellness. Well, then he, Gimli son of Gloin would take action! Without the warg's nourishment, Pippin would need to eat something else, and the bits of fruit that he had been nibbling would soon cease to content him. Gimli decided that he would be the one to provide something that would make the little chap's eyes light up with delight.
"Boromir, Legolas." Gimli halted in the middle of the common chamber where the other two were seated. "I think we ought to find something for Pippin to eat, other than fruit that is. Lady Icicle seems to think he should be weaned."
"And it's high time, too." Said Aragorn, pushing the curtain to Frodo's room open and emerging into the common area. "Icicle is wise. Peregrin needs to move forward, not back. I think that to a hobbit food might be instrumental in helping with his recovery. It's a well known saying in the Shire that 'food cooked with skill will cure every ill'."
Legolas chuckled softly at Aragorn's knowledge of Shire homilies. "Well then, oh Wise Ranger of the North," he quipped, "what culinary delicacies would a hungry young prince of periain such as he that currently resides in yonder room require?"
Now it was Aragorn's turn to laugh. When he had first learned the common speech, Elrond had taught him a rather archaic version. After all, to the ancient elf, the sands of human time moved too quickly to try and keep up with the changing vernacular. Legolas, having dealt with the businessmen of Esgaroth, was better versed in the more modern version of the tongue. The first time he had visited Imladris and heard the young Estel speaking archaic common, the elf had doubled over in laughter. The thought of the heir to the throne of Gondor speaking in the way of the outrageously pompous Mayor of Laketown was too much. Even after many years of friendship, Legolas was still able to get great amusement out of teasing Aragorn about it.
The ranger gave the elf a mock glare. "Perhaps you could see if you could find some mushrooms. While the elves seldom harvest them, I know there are many edible varieties to be found in this wood."
"That's all very well and good," interjected Boromir. "but have any of us the knowledge of which ones they are? I know you do, Aragorn, but I speak for all of us when I say that you should stay here and get some rest. You are exhausted and must sleep and here you can be close at hand to help with the hobbits if you are needed." Gimli and Legolas nodded their agreement.
"Boromir," Gimli rumbled. "You should stay too. I know that humans need sleep after only one or two days. Besides, you, of all of us, are the one the younger hobbits are closest to save Aragorn. It would be good if you were on hand as well."
Boromir was about to reply indignantly that he most certainly could go another day without sleep, but the retort was cut off by an immense yawn. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, he nodded a bit sheepishly.
"All right, I will stay...for the hobbits." Legolas had to suppress a grin - even after weeks of travelling with intimate companions, Boromir still had trouble admitting to them when he was not physically able to do something- such as stay awake for several days. After saying their farewells to the two humans, the elf and dwarf made their way down the winding staircase in search of a cooking area.
Chatting amiably as they descended through the golden mists that hung at midlevel to the towering mallorns, neither companion noticed Haldir running down the stairs lightly after them until the elf of Lórien was almost to them.
"Greetings, Legolas, Gimli." Haldir said with no sign of breathlessness. "Estel informed me that you two are looking for a place to make a meal for young Pippin."
"Aye, it is true Master Haldir, and I am afraid your elven labyrinth, fair as it may be, has thoroughly turned this dwarf around. I was hoping Legolas knew where we were going."
"Err, of course I do, Friend Gimli." Legolas huffed with a slightly affronted look on his face.
"Actually, the common area is above. You missed the path to them three spirals up." Haldir said, trying to keep a smile from his lips. "I have left Master Samwise to await you above at the place where three paths meet. Take the one to the left. Estel thought it would be good for Samwise to do something other than sit and wait for Frodo to awaken again. When you reach the kitchens, he can assist you to make a true halfling meal, to bring some memory of home to them all."
0-****-0
"Sospan kach yn beri ar a t-n!" sang Gimli merrily as he chopped the mushrooms using his smallest hatchet, first removing the stalk, which he sliced crosswise, and then moving to the dome of the fungus, which was neatly quartered, then divided into four and four again.
Sam watched with his head on one side and his lip firmly buttoned as he checked the Dwarf's progress on dealing with the large snake butter mushrooms. They were abundant in Lórien, and grew to enormous proportions and Mister Haldir had directed that a large basket be brought to the kitchen for the guests. Sam had often prepared them for Frodo in Bag End, and thought that if Strider wanted Pippin to eat them for his disease, then Sam would make sure he would slip them in every dish he could without the young Took realising he was taking medicine. However, he had never seen them prepared with an axe before.
"Very well Master Gamgee," Gimli spotted Sam watching him intently. "Shall I make the pastry next?"
"Well it needs quite a delicate touch," Sam ventured nervously. He was not sure he altogether approved of the dwarf's cooking methods. In fact, Sam rarely approved of anyone's cooking methods with the possible exception of his own Gaffer and farmer Cotton's Missus, both of whom had taught Sam his cooking. "I'm not even sure there is a rolling pin here, so the pastry will just have to be stretched.
"I think we can manage," Gimli looked into the bowl in which Sam had mixed together the fat and flour. "Let me feel your hands."
Sam looked at the dwarf with even more surprise, but obediently held out his hand to Gimli who felt it knowingly and then touched the fingers to his cheek. "Hmm." Gimli pondered, "a little warm. "Dunk your hands in cold water for a moment," he suggested, "and then dry them off before you rub the mixture together. Or better still let me do it, my hands are far cooler."
"But Mr Gimli, I'm supposed to." Sam stopped as he realised that the dwarf was already intent upon his purpose. Gimli rinsed his hands then removed the bowl from Sam and deftly began to rub the flour and fat together between his fingers and thumbs into a crumbly type mixture while the hobbit once again bit his lip and watched with renewed anxiety.
But there was no need. Gimli added a touch of water, bound the mixture together with a fork, then shook a little flour onto the clean board before turning out the pastry and patting it into a perfect round. "The trick now, young hobbit," Gimli was obviously in his element, "is to only roll it once or it gets tough!" He took a bottle from a shelf, scalded it in hot water then dried it, "this makes a good rolling pin, Sam," he said. Then deftly, and very quickly, rolled the pastry into an almost perfect circle. "There you are Master Gamgee, will that do?"
Sam was finally hit with the realisation that Gimli really knew his business, "Err um, yes Mister Gimli, that's very good," the hobbit stammered in surprise.
Leaving the dwarf to his work Sam looked over at Legolas, who was watching Sam's bubbling sauce, which was intended for the filling of the large mushroom pie. Well, he was supposed to be watching anyway. A lady elf with long golden hair and wearing a purple dress had entered the kitchens and Legolas was engaged in conversation with her, but he was not paying attention to...
"The sauce! Mister Legolas!" Sam cried, as the glutinous mass rose at an alarming rate from depths of the pot, which was hanging over the fire.
Not thinking about much beyond getting the filling off of the fire Legolas grabbed the pot off the hook - but with no protective cloth over his hands. Perhaps he was relying on his elven insensibility to temperature. However, even elven fingers have their limits.
With a yelp, the Prince of Mirkwood dropped the boiling pot, and Sam felt a cry of despair well up from his lungs, as he watched the pot with its precious contents head for the ground.
"Oh I'm sorry Sam," Legolas was mortified. "I'm afraid I've ruined your sauce."
"Never mind," Sam grumped, "I can easily make some more."
"No, I insist," Legolas went to the table where Gimli had left the neatly sliced mushrooms. "Let me make a new sauce. Tell me how were you going to cook the mushrooms anyway?"
"Well, I thought I'd just stew them in a few herbs." Sam was envisioning his perfect pie meeting with ruin and disaster. In spite of the fact Gimli had proved to be a master of the kitchen there was no proof the elf had any culinary skills. All the Fellowship had allowed Sam to do most of the cooking during their journey, although he was beginning to wonder if they just let him because it pleased the hobbit to have a special responsibility.
"How about we cook the mushrooms and make the sauce around them?" Legolas suggested taking a large skillet from a hook. "I promise it will be quite delicious."
Sam eyed the elf with renewed suspicion. "Won't they get burnt before the sauce is done?" The Gaffer had always insisted he cook mushrooms with the greatest of care, never to waste a single morsel.
"No Sam," Legolas put a large quantity of butter into the deep pan and shook it around as it melted over the fire. "Not as long as you keep them moving." He added pepper and salt plus a handful of herbs, shook a little more, then swept the mushrooms in to join the other ingredients. There was a fine sizzle and Legolas nimbly moved the pan from the heat so that the contents did not catch. He continued to heat and shake and until the mushrooms turned a golden brown.
"But what about the sauce?" Sam asked. He had never made sauce in this particular way before and could not see how it would all work together.
"Some flour now please." Legolas pointed. Sam passed him the bag and the elf scooped a generous portion into the fried mushrooms. He stirred busily, never letting the contents rest for a moment.
Once the flour was thoroughly cooked and blended Legolas returned the pan to the heat and nodded towards a flagon in the corner. "If you would be so good Gimli?" The dwarf obliged and brought the wine over to the fire and the elf poured a little wine into the mixture causing a brief fizz of activity. He expertly swirled the mushrooms with a spatula then handed the flagon to Gimli.
"A little at a time?" the dwarf asked knowingly. Legolas nodded and Gimli poured a little fluid, sometimes wine but more often milk, into the pan while the elf stirred rapidly. Sam watched with fascination as the flour mixture around the mushrooms gradually became a smooth white sauce.
"Here Sam," Legolas removed the pan from the heat and took a little sauce on the spoon and offered it to the hobbit. "Would you like to taste?"
Sam took the spoon and sniffed it first then put the tip of his tongue in the smooth mixture. His worst suspicions were confirmed! It was the best sauce he had ever tasted. "That's really very. err um. very good isn't it, Mister Legolas." Suddenly Sam felt embarrassed at his own humble plain cooking.
"You don't think it will be too rich then?" Legolas looked at the hobbit, his head querulously on one side. "For Pippin I mean."
"We-ll, maybe a tad rich, what with him being an invalid still and only used to Icicle's milk and fruit and such." Sam thought carefully, he had to admit he was a little miffed at being out-cooked by the elf and the dwarf, but on the other hand it was very useful to learn some new cooking techniques and he imagined himself back in Mrs Cotton's kitchen showing her how to make mushroom sauce the elvish way. "But he does need to start eating different things and this is mighty tasty!"
"Good!" Legolas emptied the mixture into a dish that Gimli had placed on the table and then watched as the dwarf expertly rolled his bottle across the pastry rolling it round the bottle as he did so and then unrolled it neatly across the top of the dish making a perfect pie. Legolas then trimmed and crimped the remaining pastry and, with the remnants, fashioned a pretty pastry leaf motif, which he sat atop the pie.
As the elf popped it in the oven aside the fire, Sam scratched his head and sighed at their artistry. "That's a work of art, I must say, my Gaffer will be proud of me when I cook him such a pie!"
0-****-0
Pippin smiled in his sleep. He was in the middle of one of the first pleasant dreams he'd had since leaving Moria. The dream was actually a cross between reality and slumber, as such things often are. In his mind he was snug in the curve of Umumum's belly with Merry, only the size of actual wargcubs. And Umumum, kept licking his head and neck in such a soothing way, over and over. He was warm, comfortable, and safe. The only disappointing sensation was the growing emptiness in his stomach. Eventually his hunger was such that he stirred, woke, and yawned.
At Pippin's movement, Merry came to full wakefulness as well. He blinked away the bleariness of sleep from his eyes and looked around the small room. The two hobbits and the warg were the only ones present; all of their attendants had left them in peace for now.
"Merry," Pippin complained. Merry turned and was greeted with the sight of Pippin attempting to turn Icicle onto her side, but the warg was steadfastly remaining on her belly. "I'm hungry. Umumum won't turn over!" Pippin was clearly getting a bit desperate. The rising panic in his voice was unmistakable. Merry scooted over to his cousin and wrapped his arms about Pippin.
"There, there, Pippin. Don't fret so." he soothed. Pippin ceased struggling. " I think it's time you stopped feeding from Umumum. See? Even she thinks so. She thinks you're a big cub now, and big cubs don't need mother's milk." Pippin sniffled a little, and then sat quietly for a few moments, looking at Icicle while Merry stroked his short curls reassuringly.
"But I didn't feel big."
Merry wondered if he'd heard that right. Pippin had whispered the words so softly. "What was that, Pip?"
"I didn't feel big, Merry," said Pippin, just above a whisper this time, looking at Icicle still.
"When didn't you feel big, Pippin?" Merry was now thoroughly confused, and wondered what in Middle Earth Pippin was talking about.
Pippin hung his head and played with a loose thread on the silk nightshirt's hem. "When I was in-" Pippin's voice spoke haltingly, as if it were a struggle to force the words out. "wh-when I was in the bad place, Merry. With the orcs." Pippin added in the barest whisper. "They were so b- big, an- an- and I w-was so small...." Pippin's shoulders began to shake as silent sobs racked his frame.
"Oh! oh, oh Pippin," Merry breathed, gathering his cousin and cradling the shaking form in his arms. "Shhh... don't worry, you're safe here, nothing will get you, shh..."
"B-but Merry, before.something d-did get me! When I-I got l-lost, and I couldn't f-find you, an-and then the orcs found me!" Pippin's throat closed and the end of the sentence was lost in a terrified squeak. He turned and leaned into Merry's comforting embrace, and reached up a small hand to grasp the material of Merry's nightshirt in a clenched fist, as if he was afraid that his cousin might disappear. After several shaking breaths, he continued:
"Th-th-they were so big, M-Merry! So big!" Pippin gulped and turned his wide, tear-filled, peridot eyes up to Merry. "And, strong! oh, they were so - so strong M-Merry! I tried to m-make them stop, but I just couldn't! I just couldn't! An-and they b-beat me, and h-h-hit me everso, everso hard!" Pippin choked another sob. Icicle whined and wriggled around on the bed so that she could nuzzle her adopted cub. Pippin continued in a high pitched whisper: "Th-then they, they t-tied me on a rock, an-and I was so scared, Merry! I tried to be brave, Merry, but I was so scared! And th-th-then they lay on top of m-me, and they, and they... Oh, Merry! They were so heavy! And I couldn't breathe, or think or move or anything!" Pippin wailed into Merry's chest, unable to find the words to describe what had happened to him.
Merry was speechless with horror at what his young, innocent Pippin had just told him. He hugged Pippin even tighter. After swallowing a few times, he said hoarsely, "Hush now, Pip, I'm here, we're all here now. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to..."
"B-but I do want to, Merry!" mumbled Pippin, his voice muffled by Merry's gown. "I-it hurts so much," Pippin placed his free hand over his rapidly beating heart. "in here. It's so big that I have to let it out, an-and then it might stop hurting...." Pippin looked up at Merry again, with pleading eyes. "It'll stop hurting, won't it Merry? Please say it'll stop hurting! Please..."
Merry pushed his face into Pippin's curls, breathing in the scent and trying to think clearly. It seemed so surreal, that such dreadful things could have happened to his little, guileless beloved Pip. After several deep breaths, he tilted Pippin's head back and looked into his face. "I don't know, Pip. I don't know if it will stop hurting, or when. But you know if I can help stop it, I will." Merry placed his hand on top of Pippin's, which was still over his little cousin's heart. "I promsis!" Merry used a mispronunciation Pippin had carried when a small hobbit-child, that had ever after been reserved for sacred childhood oaths. Pippin smiled up at Merry when he heard it. The word brought back happy memories that seemed far away now. Memories of golden sun, green fields and sparkling waters. Of laughter, family, and safety. Pippin sighed once more.
"Merry?"
"Yes, Pip?"
"Do- do you think you could read me your poem again? Once more? Please?"
"Of course, Pip. As many times as you like."
0-****-0
A/N: Hello all, this is just a warning to say that I am going to be moving these chapters onto my R-rated repost of MR on ff.net. If you click the link to my author bio page, you should be able to find it with a minimum of hassle. If anyone needs help doing this, say so in the review section, or drop me a line at p_holbytla@earthlink.net
Or you could just leave a review anyway? Anyone? You have no idea how it inspires me to write when people leave reviews. You don't even have to sign it. just say, "I am reading this, and it is (pick one) a) tripe b) garbage c) fair d) good. Even flames are welcome, I just want to know that people have looked at this. Thanks!
Also, Llinos, Marigold, and I recently finished an original fantasy children's story called "The Suppertime Dragon". If any of y'all could go and read it, I'd be greatly obliged!
Authors: Kookaburra and Llinos
Beta and Additional Material Marigold
Feedback: p_holbytla@earthlink.net
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Frodo was floating on a sea of mist. The weight that had been on his chest was gone, and it was no longer tempting to give up trying to breathe. The pain was much less too, just a minor annoyance in the back of his mind. There were voices...faint murmurings that should have meant something to him, but did not.
He strained to open his eyes, but apparently someone had sewn them shut. The confusing babble around him slowly became understandable and finally he was able to catch part of a phrase.
"...the incredible things that can happen when we forgive someone, Samwise..." The voice was familiar, and Frodo's sluggish mind thought hard and eventually labelled the speaker as Aragorn.
"Is it - well I mean - is it some kind of - of magic?" Samwise? Sam. That was Sam's voice. Oh, how he needed Sam right now. It was such a struggle to just remain conscious, but whatever was wrong with him he knew his Sam would help him through it. There was another voice as well, an elvish voice that Frodo thought he should recognize but could not quite place, and he could sense that several others, friends he thought, were in the room with him besides, but he could not open his eyes to see who they were.
He heard the sounds of people leaving and fought to make some sound or movement to attract their attention. 'No! Don't leave me alone!' Frodo thought frantically. Then he heard muffled speech coming from somewhere across the room and realized he had not been left completely alone. There was still Sam's voice and Aragorn's. Were they speaking about him? He thought he could just make out his name in their hushed conversation, but still, try as he might he could make no response. He wanted to call out to them but he seemed to have been stricken mute as well as blind. The weary hobbit made one more colossal effort to open his eyes. This time they revealed the merest sliver of light, the brightness of which hurt his head, yet he stubbornly refused to close them again. Redoubling his efforts, Frodo managed to open his eyes just about halfway. It was now much easier to keep them open, and as his pupils adjusted to the light in the chamber, he looked around, wondering where he was, using just his eyes as he seemed unable to move his head. He was just able to make out Aragorn rummaging in a sideboard with his back to Frodo.
As his senses returned more fully Frodo realized he was on his back, seemingly very high up in a vast bed. Not a hobbit bed then he thought, then realized what a silly thought that was. It seemed years since he had slept in the comfort of a real hobbit sized bed. The intricately carved ceiling was certainly of Elvish craftsmanship but this was not Rivendell... it was... Lórien. They had reached Lórien hadn't they? Yes, that was where they were. But this was not the pavilion he had been sharing with his companions. This looked strangely like a part of the healing quarters where he had spent so much time with Pippin.
He wanted to crane his neck and investigate his surroundings further, but that part of his body didn't seem to work. In fact, he realized, fighting down a growing sense of panic, none of his body seemed to want to work. He tried vainly to move just a finger, but the stubborn digit remained steadfastly still on the coverlet. It was as if his mind was trapped in someone else's body, a body that refused to obey his commands.
How had he come to be here? Something must have happened to him. Had he fallen ill? He remembered playing with Pippin, and then settling down in a chair for the night to keep watch over his small cousin. But what had happened after that? Something bad. Something bad had happened. He forced himself to concentrate on the memory that was teasing the edges of his consciousness, a frightening memory.
Gollum! Frodo remembered in panic what had befallen. Gollum had tried to take the Ring from him! He knew without having to touch the evil thing that the foul creature had not succeeded in his attempt. Frodo still felt the weight around his neck, and heard clearly the constant whispering in his recesses of his mind. Gollum had failed...but how? Obviously Frodo had fallen in the sly being's attack. Yet he had been saved. The Ring had been saved. How?
Icicle! It must have been she! Frodo suddenly remembered a blur of white and a fantastic roar accompanied with the sound of splintering wood just before all went dark. That had to be the answer. Gollum had tried to take the Ring, Frodo had fallen, injured, and Icicle had saved him. Saved the Ring. Saved everything. Frodo felt relief at having finally been able to piece together the events in his befuddled state, but that did not come close to the relief he felt that Gollum had not succeeded. He owed Icicle a debt he could never hope to repay.
But now for a more imperative task. He needed somehow to get the attention of Aragorn and Sam. Did they know what had happened? Frodo did not trust his voice and swallowed a few times, to make sure his throat would carry a sound other than a hoarse wheeze.
"Srri-er..."
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed at the sound of the weak voice coming from the bed that was above his eye level.
Aragorn whirled around and found himself looking at a very awake Frodo. The ranger smiled broadly and crossed to the bedside, taking Frodo's hand.
"Frodo! What a relief that you are finally back with us! We were worried for you my friend. Can you tell me how you feel?"
"Cnn't mmvve..." Frodo mumbled. It was too difficult to move even his lips any more than he had to.
"It's primarily exhaustion, Frodo. Do not fear, it will pass. Sam!" Strider looked down below Frodo's field of vision. "Run please, and fetch Silael!"
Sam was out of the room in a heartbeat calling as he went, "Mr Silael! Mr Silael!" Crossing the common hall in a few strides, he flung open the curtain to the chamber where Pippin was being reunited with his warg. Legolas and Boromir started when he entered, so focused were they on the touching scene playing out before them. Haldir had just got up off his knees and was giving a final pat to both Icicle and Pippin alike.
"Samwise! What brings you in such haste?" queried Silael.
"It's Frodo!" was all Sam could manage, "He's awake! Mr. Strider said to fetch you!"
"Steady young Samwise, I'm on my way." Before the healer could so much as take a step, Sam gasped his thanks and turned and ran back as quickly as he had left and was back beside his master in a moment. A russet mass of curls bobbed over the edge of the bed as Sam jumped up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of Frodo. "Don't worry, Mr. Frodo! Your Sam's here!"
Aragorn smiled, and picked Sam up and set him on the bed. Frodo's heart lifted at the sight of his faithful servant's homely face. The ranger then turned back to Frodo and, clasping his hand again, began asking him questions.
"What's your name, little one?"
Well, this was silly! Why was Aragorn asking him this? However, Frodo trusted the man with his life, and decided that whatever Aragorn asked him was done for good reason.
"Fr-od-" speaking was becoming easier, as he became more alert, and his voice began to recover from disuse.
"What's my name?"
"Rrragrrn..." Aragorn put a hand on Sam's shoulder as the gardener sat beaming down at his master.
"Who is this?"
This time Frodo concentrated on enunciating each sound.
"Ssam." Aragorn smiled. Frodo was becoming more and more coherent. Time now for one more test. He brought his hand up and spread his fingers.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Frodo squinted a bit but could see all the digits.
"f-five..."
"And now?"
"th..th..three..."
"That is excellent Frodo." Aragorn gave Frodo's hand a brief squeeze.
At that moment Silael arrived in the chamber, "How is Frodo, Estel?" the healer asked.
"It has just been a few moments since he awakened." Aragorn said smiling. "He knows who he is and who Sam and I are." Silael was already leaning over the bed and taking Frodo's limp hand. "I also gave him a finger test, and he can see clearly, and comprehend."
"You did well, Estel. Now," Silael smiled down on the pair of droopy blue eyes that looked at him from under the mop of curly dark hair. "How are you feeling, Frodo?"
Frodo's throat hurt too much from his earlier attempts at vocalising, but he managed a weak smile.
Silael smiled back, and began a gentle examination of all of Frodo's hurts. The battered hobbit allowed himself to drift in and out of consciousness, soothed by Sam's warm hand stroking his chilled one.
0-****-0
Pippin turned his face up from Icicle's lush fur.
"Merry! Did Sam say that Frodo is awake?" Pippin's eyes shone with hope and excitement, but waited for Merry to confirm it before he would let himself truly believe that the news was real. "Yes Pip - You heard right. Frodo is awake!"
Merry stroked Pippin's cinnamon curls as he smiled down at his young cousin. He understood why Pippin might be afraid to believe his own ears. Many good things seemed to be coming true at once, and Pip needed to be reassured that all of them were real. So many bad things had happened to the lad that it was no wonder that it was sometimes difficult for him to accept that the good things happening now were reality, and not part of a dream.
Merry smiled at Pippin's resiliency, wondering that his cousin was able to trust in hope at all after all that had happened to him recently. He was so proud of Pip.
The youngest member of the Fellowship had grown up a lot during the Quest, trying as best he could to be counted worthy enough to be included among such doughty warriors, despite his tender youth. Merry had seen Pippin maturing before his eyes, going from grumbling about walking so far every day, to packing half his weight in supplies and firewood up a mountain in a blizzard with nary a word of complaint.
Now, because of the terrible setback he had suffered at the hands of the orcs, Pip had lost some of the maturity he had gained. Merry recognized that his little cousin had made incredible progress from the broken and incoherent mite they had rescued from the orcs of Moria, and hoped that soon Pip would regain the ground that he had lost. Merry had of course loved the childlike Pip from their carefree days in the Shire. He admired the way the responsible Pip, the youngster that had developed over the course of their journey, had kept those carefree childlike qualities but then integrated them into his maturing personality. Merry hoped that Pippin would soon be able to achieve that happy balance again, and continue to move forward. But whatever happened, Merry would love him. He was his Pippin.
Merry squeezed his little cousin a bit tighter- Pippin was here beside him, and Merry would never let anyone take Pippin away from him again - no matter what.
"Mer-ry." Pippin giggled, "You're pinching." The smaller hobbit squirmed a bit to loosen Merry's hold. Merry reluctantly acquiesced, but Pippin kept up his squirming until his face was nuzzling into Icicle's belly.
Ah, of course, Merry reasoned, Pippin wanted to nurse for comfort after being separated from his surrogate mother for so long. While Merry was overjoyed that Icicle lived again, and was able to offer Pippin love and comfort, he was certain that actually nursing would be a step backwards and thought that the habit was a big part of the reason that Pippin was not really getting any better in his mind. He needed to be weaned off the warg if he was going to recover completely.
However, Merry didn't yet have the heart to try and convince Pippin that the one source of "safe" love other than himself should not nourish him anymore. Icicle though, apparently understood as well and abruptly stood up and, while she did not remove herself from Pippin's side, moved to a position that denied him the opportunity to nurse. Pippin raised his head, bewildered, a slightly hurt expression on his face.
"Umumum?" He asked tentatively. Icicle whined and turned around, licking his face and whuffling into his hair. Pippin did not force the issue and settled down to rest his drowsy head against her. Icicle then raised her head and met Merry's eyes. A look of understanding passed between Pippin's two protectors, and Merry smiled, curled up himself next to Pippin and the warg, and closed his own eyes.
0-****-0
Gimli left Pippin and Merry's chamber after bringing Icicle some prime cuts of venison. Merry had awakened when Gimli had entered with the platter of cubed meat, and while Icicle ate hungrily in one corner of the room the older hobbit had filled him in on Pippin's reaction to the return of the warg. Gimli, too, thought it a very positive thing that young Peregrin not revert back to depending on Icicle's milk for sustenance, but understood that it would be hard for the lad. Everything happening to, and around him, must be overwhelming for the little hobbit. Gimli thought about the effect Pippin had on him. The dwarf was not used to feeling this protective over anything but gold and silver, and the emotions he felt troubled him and made him want to do his own part to bring the lad along the path to wellness. Well, then he, Gimli son of Gloin would take action! Without the warg's nourishment, Pippin would need to eat something else, and the bits of fruit that he had been nibbling would soon cease to content him. Gimli decided that he would be the one to provide something that would make the little chap's eyes light up with delight.
"Boromir, Legolas." Gimli halted in the middle of the common chamber where the other two were seated. "I think we ought to find something for Pippin to eat, other than fruit that is. Lady Icicle seems to think he should be weaned."
"And it's high time, too." Said Aragorn, pushing the curtain to Frodo's room open and emerging into the common area. "Icicle is wise. Peregrin needs to move forward, not back. I think that to a hobbit food might be instrumental in helping with his recovery. It's a well known saying in the Shire that 'food cooked with skill will cure every ill'."
Legolas chuckled softly at Aragorn's knowledge of Shire homilies. "Well then, oh Wise Ranger of the North," he quipped, "what culinary delicacies would a hungry young prince of periain such as he that currently resides in yonder room require?"
Now it was Aragorn's turn to laugh. When he had first learned the common speech, Elrond had taught him a rather archaic version. After all, to the ancient elf, the sands of human time moved too quickly to try and keep up with the changing vernacular. Legolas, having dealt with the businessmen of Esgaroth, was better versed in the more modern version of the tongue. The first time he had visited Imladris and heard the young Estel speaking archaic common, the elf had doubled over in laughter. The thought of the heir to the throne of Gondor speaking in the way of the outrageously pompous Mayor of Laketown was too much. Even after many years of friendship, Legolas was still able to get great amusement out of teasing Aragorn about it.
The ranger gave the elf a mock glare. "Perhaps you could see if you could find some mushrooms. While the elves seldom harvest them, I know there are many edible varieties to be found in this wood."
"That's all very well and good," interjected Boromir. "but have any of us the knowledge of which ones they are? I know you do, Aragorn, but I speak for all of us when I say that you should stay here and get some rest. You are exhausted and must sleep and here you can be close at hand to help with the hobbits if you are needed." Gimli and Legolas nodded their agreement.
"Boromir," Gimli rumbled. "You should stay too. I know that humans need sleep after only one or two days. Besides, you, of all of us, are the one the younger hobbits are closest to save Aragorn. It would be good if you were on hand as well."
Boromir was about to reply indignantly that he most certainly could go another day without sleep, but the retort was cut off by an immense yawn. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, he nodded a bit sheepishly.
"All right, I will stay...for the hobbits." Legolas had to suppress a grin - even after weeks of travelling with intimate companions, Boromir still had trouble admitting to them when he was not physically able to do something- such as stay awake for several days. After saying their farewells to the two humans, the elf and dwarf made their way down the winding staircase in search of a cooking area.
Chatting amiably as they descended through the golden mists that hung at midlevel to the towering mallorns, neither companion noticed Haldir running down the stairs lightly after them until the elf of Lórien was almost to them.
"Greetings, Legolas, Gimli." Haldir said with no sign of breathlessness. "Estel informed me that you two are looking for a place to make a meal for young Pippin."
"Aye, it is true Master Haldir, and I am afraid your elven labyrinth, fair as it may be, has thoroughly turned this dwarf around. I was hoping Legolas knew where we were going."
"Err, of course I do, Friend Gimli." Legolas huffed with a slightly affronted look on his face.
"Actually, the common area is above. You missed the path to them three spirals up." Haldir said, trying to keep a smile from his lips. "I have left Master Samwise to await you above at the place where three paths meet. Take the one to the left. Estel thought it would be good for Samwise to do something other than sit and wait for Frodo to awaken again. When you reach the kitchens, he can assist you to make a true halfling meal, to bring some memory of home to them all."
0-****-0
"Sospan kach yn beri ar a t-n!" sang Gimli merrily as he chopped the mushrooms using his smallest hatchet, first removing the stalk, which he sliced crosswise, and then moving to the dome of the fungus, which was neatly quartered, then divided into four and four again.
Sam watched with his head on one side and his lip firmly buttoned as he checked the Dwarf's progress on dealing with the large snake butter mushrooms. They were abundant in Lórien, and grew to enormous proportions and Mister Haldir had directed that a large basket be brought to the kitchen for the guests. Sam had often prepared them for Frodo in Bag End, and thought that if Strider wanted Pippin to eat them for his disease, then Sam would make sure he would slip them in every dish he could without the young Took realising he was taking medicine. However, he had never seen them prepared with an axe before.
"Very well Master Gamgee," Gimli spotted Sam watching him intently. "Shall I make the pastry next?"
"Well it needs quite a delicate touch," Sam ventured nervously. He was not sure he altogether approved of the dwarf's cooking methods. In fact, Sam rarely approved of anyone's cooking methods with the possible exception of his own Gaffer and farmer Cotton's Missus, both of whom had taught Sam his cooking. "I'm not even sure there is a rolling pin here, so the pastry will just have to be stretched.
"I think we can manage," Gimli looked into the bowl in which Sam had mixed together the fat and flour. "Let me feel your hands."
Sam looked at the dwarf with even more surprise, but obediently held out his hand to Gimli who felt it knowingly and then touched the fingers to his cheek. "Hmm." Gimli pondered, "a little warm. "Dunk your hands in cold water for a moment," he suggested, "and then dry them off before you rub the mixture together. Or better still let me do it, my hands are far cooler."
"But Mr Gimli, I'm supposed to." Sam stopped as he realised that the dwarf was already intent upon his purpose. Gimli rinsed his hands then removed the bowl from Sam and deftly began to rub the flour and fat together between his fingers and thumbs into a crumbly type mixture while the hobbit once again bit his lip and watched with renewed anxiety.
But there was no need. Gimli added a touch of water, bound the mixture together with a fork, then shook a little flour onto the clean board before turning out the pastry and patting it into a perfect round. "The trick now, young hobbit," Gimli was obviously in his element, "is to only roll it once or it gets tough!" He took a bottle from a shelf, scalded it in hot water then dried it, "this makes a good rolling pin, Sam," he said. Then deftly, and very quickly, rolled the pastry into an almost perfect circle. "There you are Master Gamgee, will that do?"
Sam was finally hit with the realisation that Gimli really knew his business, "Err um, yes Mister Gimli, that's very good," the hobbit stammered in surprise.
Leaving the dwarf to his work Sam looked over at Legolas, who was watching Sam's bubbling sauce, which was intended for the filling of the large mushroom pie. Well, he was supposed to be watching anyway. A lady elf with long golden hair and wearing a purple dress had entered the kitchens and Legolas was engaged in conversation with her, but he was not paying attention to...
"The sauce! Mister Legolas!" Sam cried, as the glutinous mass rose at an alarming rate from depths of the pot, which was hanging over the fire.
Not thinking about much beyond getting the filling off of the fire Legolas grabbed the pot off the hook - but with no protective cloth over his hands. Perhaps he was relying on his elven insensibility to temperature. However, even elven fingers have their limits.
With a yelp, the Prince of Mirkwood dropped the boiling pot, and Sam felt a cry of despair well up from his lungs, as he watched the pot with its precious contents head for the ground.
"Oh I'm sorry Sam," Legolas was mortified. "I'm afraid I've ruined your sauce."
"Never mind," Sam grumped, "I can easily make some more."
"No, I insist," Legolas went to the table where Gimli had left the neatly sliced mushrooms. "Let me make a new sauce. Tell me how were you going to cook the mushrooms anyway?"
"Well, I thought I'd just stew them in a few herbs." Sam was envisioning his perfect pie meeting with ruin and disaster. In spite of the fact Gimli had proved to be a master of the kitchen there was no proof the elf had any culinary skills. All the Fellowship had allowed Sam to do most of the cooking during their journey, although he was beginning to wonder if they just let him because it pleased the hobbit to have a special responsibility.
"How about we cook the mushrooms and make the sauce around them?" Legolas suggested taking a large skillet from a hook. "I promise it will be quite delicious."
Sam eyed the elf with renewed suspicion. "Won't they get burnt before the sauce is done?" The Gaffer had always insisted he cook mushrooms with the greatest of care, never to waste a single morsel.
"No Sam," Legolas put a large quantity of butter into the deep pan and shook it around as it melted over the fire. "Not as long as you keep them moving." He added pepper and salt plus a handful of herbs, shook a little more, then swept the mushrooms in to join the other ingredients. There was a fine sizzle and Legolas nimbly moved the pan from the heat so that the contents did not catch. He continued to heat and shake and until the mushrooms turned a golden brown.
"But what about the sauce?" Sam asked. He had never made sauce in this particular way before and could not see how it would all work together.
"Some flour now please." Legolas pointed. Sam passed him the bag and the elf scooped a generous portion into the fried mushrooms. He stirred busily, never letting the contents rest for a moment.
Once the flour was thoroughly cooked and blended Legolas returned the pan to the heat and nodded towards a flagon in the corner. "If you would be so good Gimli?" The dwarf obliged and brought the wine over to the fire and the elf poured a little wine into the mixture causing a brief fizz of activity. He expertly swirled the mushrooms with a spatula then handed the flagon to Gimli.
"A little at a time?" the dwarf asked knowingly. Legolas nodded and Gimli poured a little fluid, sometimes wine but more often milk, into the pan while the elf stirred rapidly. Sam watched with fascination as the flour mixture around the mushrooms gradually became a smooth white sauce.
"Here Sam," Legolas removed the pan from the heat and took a little sauce on the spoon and offered it to the hobbit. "Would you like to taste?"
Sam took the spoon and sniffed it first then put the tip of his tongue in the smooth mixture. His worst suspicions were confirmed! It was the best sauce he had ever tasted. "That's really very. err um. very good isn't it, Mister Legolas." Suddenly Sam felt embarrassed at his own humble plain cooking.
"You don't think it will be too rich then?" Legolas looked at the hobbit, his head querulously on one side. "For Pippin I mean."
"We-ll, maybe a tad rich, what with him being an invalid still and only used to Icicle's milk and fruit and such." Sam thought carefully, he had to admit he was a little miffed at being out-cooked by the elf and the dwarf, but on the other hand it was very useful to learn some new cooking techniques and he imagined himself back in Mrs Cotton's kitchen showing her how to make mushroom sauce the elvish way. "But he does need to start eating different things and this is mighty tasty!"
"Good!" Legolas emptied the mixture into a dish that Gimli had placed on the table and then watched as the dwarf expertly rolled his bottle across the pastry rolling it round the bottle as he did so and then unrolled it neatly across the top of the dish making a perfect pie. Legolas then trimmed and crimped the remaining pastry and, with the remnants, fashioned a pretty pastry leaf motif, which he sat atop the pie.
As the elf popped it in the oven aside the fire, Sam scratched his head and sighed at their artistry. "That's a work of art, I must say, my Gaffer will be proud of me when I cook him such a pie!"
0-****-0
Pippin smiled in his sleep. He was in the middle of one of the first pleasant dreams he'd had since leaving Moria. The dream was actually a cross between reality and slumber, as such things often are. In his mind he was snug in the curve of Umumum's belly with Merry, only the size of actual wargcubs. And Umumum, kept licking his head and neck in such a soothing way, over and over. He was warm, comfortable, and safe. The only disappointing sensation was the growing emptiness in his stomach. Eventually his hunger was such that he stirred, woke, and yawned.
At Pippin's movement, Merry came to full wakefulness as well. He blinked away the bleariness of sleep from his eyes and looked around the small room. The two hobbits and the warg were the only ones present; all of their attendants had left them in peace for now.
"Merry," Pippin complained. Merry turned and was greeted with the sight of Pippin attempting to turn Icicle onto her side, but the warg was steadfastly remaining on her belly. "I'm hungry. Umumum won't turn over!" Pippin was clearly getting a bit desperate. The rising panic in his voice was unmistakable. Merry scooted over to his cousin and wrapped his arms about Pippin.
"There, there, Pippin. Don't fret so." he soothed. Pippin ceased struggling. " I think it's time you stopped feeding from Umumum. See? Even she thinks so. She thinks you're a big cub now, and big cubs don't need mother's milk." Pippin sniffled a little, and then sat quietly for a few moments, looking at Icicle while Merry stroked his short curls reassuringly.
"But I didn't feel big."
Merry wondered if he'd heard that right. Pippin had whispered the words so softly. "What was that, Pip?"
"I didn't feel big, Merry," said Pippin, just above a whisper this time, looking at Icicle still.
"When didn't you feel big, Pippin?" Merry was now thoroughly confused, and wondered what in Middle Earth Pippin was talking about.
Pippin hung his head and played with a loose thread on the silk nightshirt's hem. "When I was in-" Pippin's voice spoke haltingly, as if it were a struggle to force the words out. "wh-when I was in the bad place, Merry. With the orcs." Pippin added in the barest whisper. "They were so b- big, an- an- and I w-was so small...." Pippin's shoulders began to shake as silent sobs racked his frame.
"Oh! oh, oh Pippin," Merry breathed, gathering his cousin and cradling the shaking form in his arms. "Shhh... don't worry, you're safe here, nothing will get you, shh..."
"B-but Merry, before.something d-did get me! When I-I got l-lost, and I couldn't f-find you, an-and then the orcs found me!" Pippin's throat closed and the end of the sentence was lost in a terrified squeak. He turned and leaned into Merry's comforting embrace, and reached up a small hand to grasp the material of Merry's nightshirt in a clenched fist, as if he was afraid that his cousin might disappear. After several shaking breaths, he continued:
"Th-th-they were so big, M-Merry! So big!" Pippin gulped and turned his wide, tear-filled, peridot eyes up to Merry. "And, strong! oh, they were so - so strong M-Merry! I tried to m-make them stop, but I just couldn't! I just couldn't! An-and they b-beat me, and h-h-hit me everso, everso hard!" Pippin choked another sob. Icicle whined and wriggled around on the bed so that she could nuzzle her adopted cub. Pippin continued in a high pitched whisper: "Th-then they, they t-tied me on a rock, an-and I was so scared, Merry! I tried to be brave, Merry, but I was so scared! And th-th-then they lay on top of m-me, and they, and they... Oh, Merry! They were so heavy! And I couldn't breathe, or think or move or anything!" Pippin wailed into Merry's chest, unable to find the words to describe what had happened to him.
Merry was speechless with horror at what his young, innocent Pippin had just told him. He hugged Pippin even tighter. After swallowing a few times, he said hoarsely, "Hush now, Pip, I'm here, we're all here now. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to..."
"B-but I do want to, Merry!" mumbled Pippin, his voice muffled by Merry's gown. "I-it hurts so much," Pippin placed his free hand over his rapidly beating heart. "in here. It's so big that I have to let it out, an-and then it might stop hurting...." Pippin looked up at Merry again, with pleading eyes. "It'll stop hurting, won't it Merry? Please say it'll stop hurting! Please..."
Merry pushed his face into Pippin's curls, breathing in the scent and trying to think clearly. It seemed so surreal, that such dreadful things could have happened to his little, guileless beloved Pip. After several deep breaths, he tilted Pippin's head back and looked into his face. "I don't know, Pip. I don't know if it will stop hurting, or when. But you know if I can help stop it, I will." Merry placed his hand on top of Pippin's, which was still over his little cousin's heart. "I promsis!" Merry used a mispronunciation Pippin had carried when a small hobbit-child, that had ever after been reserved for sacred childhood oaths. Pippin smiled up at Merry when he heard it. The word brought back happy memories that seemed far away now. Memories of golden sun, green fields and sparkling waters. Of laughter, family, and safety. Pippin sighed once more.
"Merry?"
"Yes, Pip?"
"Do- do you think you could read me your poem again? Once more? Please?"
"Of course, Pip. As many times as you like."
0-****-0
A/N: Hello all, this is just a warning to say that I am going to be moving these chapters onto my R-rated repost of MR on ff.net. If you click the link to my author bio page, you should be able to find it with a minimum of hassle. If anyone needs help doing this, say so in the review section, or drop me a line at p_holbytla@earthlink.net
Or you could just leave a review anyway? Anyone? You have no idea how it inspires me to write when people leave reviews. You don't even have to sign it. just say, "I am reading this, and it is (pick one) a) tripe b) garbage c) fair d) good. Even flames are welcome, I just want to know that people have looked at this. Thanks!
Also, Llinos, Marigold, and I recently finished an original fantasy children's story called "The Suppertime Dragon". If any of y'all could go and read it, I'd be greatly obliged!