Moria's Revenge, Chapter 34: Fed
Authors: Kookaburra and Llinos
Beta: Marigold
AN:(Kookaburra) Hi everyone, on request from Marigold I drew a picture of Pippin in his elven robe. If you cut and paste this link into the browser, you should be able to view it. I am not really satisfied with it, as I rarely work with watercolours, graphite is my main medium. If you would like to see more art, visit my elfwood gallery, which is listed under my homepage in my author page.
Pippin pic link-
http://www.thetolkienforum.com/attachment.php?s=&postid=231497
***
As Boromir carried Pippin down the stairs he felt the hobbit growing more and more tense. His arms clung more tightly around his neck and his breathing became rapid. When they reached the foot of the stairs and came onto the greensward Pippin wriggled in the strong man's grasp and called frantically, "Merry!"
"Shh. . . Pippin," Boromir soothed him, "it's all right, Merry is here. He's walking right beside us. Look down and you will see him."
Before Pippin could locate Merry with his eyes, his cousin had heard the edge of panic in his tone and caught hold of his dangling foot, "I won't leave you Pip, I'm right here." He squeezed the foot through the woolly stocking, "We're all going to have dinner."
Aragorn put his hand on Boromir's shoulder and said quietly, "Perhaps Pippin would like to walk the rest of the way - it's not far."
Boromir understood that Aragorn actually thought it would be a good idea, but they needed to ask. "Would you like that Pippin?" Boromir whispered.
Pippin sniffed a little. He had calmed considerably once Merry had taken hold of his foot. "Yes please, I think I can."
Very carefully the little hobbit was set on the ground and Merry immediately took his hand to steady him, while Boromir took the other, stretching his arm down so that Pippin did not have to reach up. Slowly Pippin walked along, still a little doubled over, but better than before, and increasingly using the helping hands for balance rather than support.
Once they arrived at the table, where Legolas and Gimli were waiting, Pippin was lifted up to sit on a well cushioned chair, with Merry sitting beside him, also bolstered up with cushions so that he could reach the table.
The others then took their places; Aragorn sat the other side of Pippin with Boromir opposite. Legolas and Gimli sat next to each other also on the opposite side to the hobbits.
Sam brought the food out and set it upon the table. The pie was hot from the warm oven and there was new bread and butter, and honey, together with roast wood pigeons in gooseberry sauce, buttered celery hearts and sweet glazed potatoes. There was also a good quantity of wine, both crimson and clear and a syrupy mead to drink.
Sam served Pippin first, as the guest of honour, and cut into the golden piecrust to reveal the creamy sauce covered mushrooms. He ladled a good helping onto the plate and Merry cut a piece of bread and scraped some butter on it before putting it in Pippin's passive hand.
Sam then dished up a tray of food and begged his leave of the others, as he wanted to take a little something up to Frodo. The "little something" was a good portion of the pie filling with a tiny taste of crust; some roast wood pigeon and gooseberry sauce and a flagon of wine, plus a little each of the vegetables. Sam, satisfied his tray was in order, trotted off to surprise his master with these delicacies.
Pippin watched in stunned silence as the others helped themselves to the food, filling their plates and chatting nonchalantly about this and that. All that is except Merry. He was watching Pippin carefully. His young cousin did not seem to be particularly at ease and followed the movements of the others as if seeing them for the first time.
What was actually running through Pippin's mind was the mess hall of the orcs, when he had been put on the table and they had. . . no. . . no don't think about that. That's over and done with, Pippin told himself sternly.
But it wouldn't go away. This setting was too familiar. Those terrible images, the frightening leering and jeering faces. It was not even as if it were a nightmare that he could wake up from, it had all happened, it was real. Pippin remembered what had followed. The terrible pain of the "hot root" they had called it and where they had put it. 'Ohhh! Nooo!' Pippin could almost feel it again – it had been so dreadful, the memory made him want to scream out loud.
But Merry was there. Merry was touching his hand now, gently, so gently. Nothing could hurt him if Merry was there.
"Pip! Pip! Come back, look at me." Merry was patting his hand now, worried at the faraway, frightened look in Pippin's eyes.
"Merry?" Pippin whispered the name, clutching at Merry's arm frantically to make sure he was really there. "I'm seeing it all again, help me Merry, it won't stop. . . I can't. . ."
"Don't panic Pip my love. Look carefully around." Merry had jumped down from his chair to hug Pippin closely. Now he turned him round a little to look at the anxious faces at the table.
They had all stopped talking as soon as they realised Pippin was on the verge of panic. "It's all right Pippin." Aragorn reassured him, "See, it's just a table and food and you're going to eat dinner with us. Do you remember?"
"Yes," Pippin whispered, "remember. . . I do remember. . . everything." Although Pippin's eyes just looked a little glazed, his mind was racing frantically round in terrifying circles. He saw the table in the orcs' mess hall and the snarling wargs on the floor, where he lay in agony from the red paste in his backside. Remembered the orc picking him up off the floor and feeding him - putting something in his mouth that had made him so ill, made him see nightmares that were worse than the one he was living.
"That's good Pip," Merry assumed that Pippin was recalling the plan to have a picnic. "Here let me help you. This is mushrooms in a pie." He scooped a bit of mushroom onto a fork and held it before Pippin's mouth. "Come on eat the mushroom Pip."
Pippin remembered sitting on the floor, a mushroom had just been forced down his throat and then he was swaying from side to side feeling sick and dizzy, unable to feel the ground beneath him. He had looked up and seen the whole Fellowship pointing and jeering at him and then Boromir had stepped into the circle with a whip. Pippin had pleaded with him for help, promising to be good and never annoy him again. But it had been to no avail. Boromir had lashed his helpless, abused body until it bled and he could no longer scream. Then he had passed the whip to Strider.
"No! No! No! Aaaiiieeee!" Pippin suddenly screamed a piercing heart-rending cry and slapped away the morsel Merry was holding out for him. He looked frantically round and there they all were, just like before. Boromir was looking at him and Strider was taking hold of him. Pippin fought this time. He made fists and punched and pummelled as hard as he could, all the time screaming and begging to be left alone. "Don't! Don't touch me, don't touch me. . . please don't touch me. . . leave me alone. . .please . . . please. . . Merry. . . Merry. . . where are you. . . please!"
-0****0-
Sam climbed up the lengthy stair to the healer's flet where Frodo was recuperating. When the other members of the fellowship had come out of the Lord and Lady's counsels, Gimli had explained what might come to pass regarding Frodo's ability to carry on with the Quest, and then the dwarf and the others urged Sam to tell Frodo what had been discussed. Now the sturdy gardener, laden with food from the picnic, was traversing the network of stairs and flets once again.
When he entered the room where Frodo was resting, he came upon Melystra, who was checking the battered hobbit's heartbeat and temperature. But the thing Sam noticed the most was Frodo's bright blue eyes- his master was awake again! Nearly dropping the tray in his excitement, Sam pattered over to the bedside, where he carefully placed the tray, and then stood on tip-toe to see his master upon the bed.
Frodo painfully turned his head to one side, trying to see more of Sam, however, all that was visible were Sam's eyes and the top of his curly head peeking over the counterpane. "Mr Frodo, it's so good to see you awake again!" exclaimed Sam. "We were awful worried – I hope you're feeling hungry. See, I've brought you some food."
Smiling, Frodo replied hoarsely, "Thank you, dear Sam," Frodo's smile widened as Sam beamed at the endearment. "Yes, I am rather hungry, but my throat is so sore. . ."
"Don't you worry Mr Frodo," Sam said as he searched for a way to climb on the bed without jostling his master. "Mr Legolas and Mr Gimli made a wonderful mushroom pie, and I've brought some – mostly filling, just as you like it. . ." Sam paused as he was caught about the waist by Melystra and deposited on the coverlet. He smiled up at the elven healer, "Thank you Ma-am." He turned back to Frodo again, ". . .it's smooth as milk, and I've also brought some wine and some boneless breast of wood pigeon in gooseberry sauce and some sweetened vegetables. Those should all go down nice and easy!"
"Thank you, Sam. It sounds and smells delicious. But," Frodo added, his face clouding, "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to sit up yet. How am I to eat, Lady Melystra?"
"The same as you always do, young Frodo." Melystra spoke for the first time. "I must put some very soft pillows behind your back, however. It is still badly torn, and too much pressure could reopen the wounds." While the elf bustled about, getting pillows and a small platter with legs for eating in bed, Sam uncovered the dishes and started making up a plate for both him and Frodo, he decided it would be more sociable to keep his master company. He ladled a generous amount of the mushroom filling into two small bowls, and placed several strips of meat on top and garnished the breast meat with the sauce. The wine posed a bit more of a problem. The glasses he had been provided with were elfsized- nearly three times as big as a hobbit would need. If any hobbit – even Mr Merry, who had a seemingly infinite capacity for alcohol – were to drink a whole glass, Sam would bet his best petunias that they would be tipsy in minutes. Well, he reasoned, best not to fill them up. The hobbit carefully balanced on the soft mattress while using both hands to pour two quarter glasses from the relatively large flagon of wine.
Melystra finished arranging Frodo on the pillows and placing the legged tray over his lap. Before she slipped out the door, she gave the hobbit one final admonition. "You are not to feed yourself Frodo. Let Samwise do it." she held up a white palm to forestall Frodo's protests. "This is not debatable, Mr Baggins. Your right shoulder muscles were torn in the attack, and the left ones were wrenched. You are to rest them bicompletely/i/b to prevent further damage. With that, she ghosted out the door, and closed it softly behind her.
"Well, Mr Frodo. Shall we get started? How are you feeling?" Sam sat down next to Frodo and spooned up some mushroom sauce, holding it at the ready for Frodo to eat.
Frodo blushed hotly. He was more than a little angry, not so much with Melystra, but with his current situation. He was not some drooling invalid who needed to be babied. "You don't have to do that Sam," said Frodo quietly, trying not to strain his voice. "I can feed myself, really." Frodo gave a wan smile and looked up at Samwise.
However Sam had experience with his master being ill before, and knew that Frodo hated to be nursed. "Of course you can't Mr Frodo," said Sam cheerily. "And it's healer's orders, besides. I'm not goin' to let you hurt yourself." Sam's sunny face clouded a little. "And. . .Mr G-gandalf told me to look after you, and not let anything hurt you. And anything means not even yourself. So open up, Mr Frodo." Frodo's mouth remained stubbornly shut, and the corners turned down. Sam sighed. His master was being sulky, and Frodo was even more impossible than young Master Pip when he was sulky. "Mr Frodo, now you need your strength. Let's not have any more of this nonsense." Still the mouth remained shut. After several minutes of wheedling and cajoling, Sam had had enough. Usually he was tolerant of his master's moods, but this time the situation was more dire, his master truly needed nourishment, and Sam was going to make sure he got it.
"Now, Mr Frodo, you biare/i/b going to eat this, if I have to hold your nose and force you to swallow." Frodo's eyes widened. He was pushing Sam's patience, and knew it.
"You wouldn't dare, Sam." Frodo challenged, trying to speak without opening his lips, knowing Sam would not miss the opportunity to deliver the waiting spoonful of food.
"Just see if I wouldn't, Mr Frodo. You're hurt, you need food, and you're not to feed yourself. Now, if I do have to force the point, there's sure to be an awful mess in here when we're done. If there is, I'm going to tell them exactly how I had to feed you like a spoiled babe in arms. Maybe next time Mr Boromir or Mr Strider will have to help me. Would you like that, Mr Frodo, or would you rather eat up for your Sam?" Sam hated to threaten Frodo's dignity like this, it was the one thing Frodo held dear most of all, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He held gazes with Frodo. Finally his master's eyes dropped in submission.
"All right Sam." sighed Frodo quietly. "You win." He opened his mouth, resigned to his fate.
"I'm glad, Mr Frodo. You really do need a good meal inside you." He slipped a spoonful of sauce into Frodo's mouth, and mopped up an errant dribble that escaped the corner of his master's lips with a fine linen napkin.
-0****0-
Aragorn was trying to hold Pippin still and lifted him up to stop him from hurting himself, while Boromir was rubbing his back gently and telling him urgently to calm down. Merry was standing on his chair so that he could reach Pippin's face and was repeating frantically over and over, "I'm here Pip! I won't leave you! I'm here! Pip it's all right!"
Gimli was roaring with effort, holding onto Icicle with all his strength as the warg fought him to get to her distressed pup, howling and growling threateningly at the dwarf. Legolas was rapidly explaining to several elven guards, led by Haldir that there was no attack and they did not need to defend anyone at the moment.
Pippin's special treat, the picnic, had turned into utter chaos, no one seemed to be able to bring Pippin back to the present, by touch or word or even by main force.
Suddenly everyone in the little glade heard the same thing, although the words were not spoken aloud. "Stop – enough! Be silent, be calm!" Icicle merely saw a picture in her head that showed her Pippin lying happily by her side, content and calm.
Pippin's screaming stopped abruptly, as did Icicle's howling and growling. The entreaties of all those around Pippin stilled also, along with the elves' demands to know what was happening. A small bird whistled a shimmering refrain and flew off as if embarrassed. All else was silent.
The Lady Galadriel moved soundlessly across the grass and, touching Aragorn lightly on the shoulder, held out her arms for Pippin. Wordlessly the hobbit was handed over and all looked in wonder as she held him cradled in her arms, his body stilled and his face calm.
She nodded towards the wooden carver at the head of the table and Legolas and Haldir almost fell over each other as they fetched the chair for the Lady to sit in with her burden. Gently Galadriel rocked Pippin to and fro like a mother with a newborn and she began to lilt a sweet childish lullaby in the common tongue, something no elf had heard her sing before, but the simple words on her elven lips were as charming as any Sindarin or Quenyan verses and calmed all who heard them.
Dreams shall fade,
be unmade,
the past is fled,
don't be afraid.
The sun is bright,
bathed in light,
memories die,
and take flight.
Precious child,
mercy smiled,
your dear heart,
the fates beguiled.
Cry no tears,
fear no fears,
ill thought flees,
and disappears.
Hear this charm,
let it calm,
and keep you now,
safe from harm.
Pippin lay quietly in Galadriel's arms, a little smile playing about his lips. She carefully lifted him up and placed him back on the cushioned chair beside Merry. At a nod from the Lady, the other diners resumed their places and the watchful elves went back about their business, except Haldir who, at the invitation of Aragorn, also joined the picnic.
Aragorn took up a place the other side of Galadriel, who remained seated next to Pippin. The hobbit looked rather bemused by the whole setting now, as if he did not know where he was, but this time he seemed to be quite relaxed about the situation and allowed Merry to put the fork in his hand and started to eat with some relish.
Pippin's memory of the orc hall had gone for the moment. The only memories the laden table brought to mind were those of the Shire, sitting in the Great Smials big dining room at Yuletide or the grand banqueting room at Brandy Hall for Merry's coming of age. He remembered Bilbo's party in the field under the great tree, so long ago when he was just a child. Pippin felt the golden crust of the pie melt in his mouth and the delicious sauce on the mushrooms tingle on his taste buds for the first time in so, so long. Real food! He had almost forgotten the sheer pleasure of food!
0-****-0
Frodo leaned back into the comforting pillows, his stomach pleasantly full with wonderful, warm food. "Sam." he said quietly. "I'm a bit thirsty, would you. . ."
"Of course, Mr Frodo. See, I've got a wine glass here on the bed stand. I haven't filled it too full. Can't have you getting tipsy now."
Frodo smiled wanly. "No, can't have that. . ." In truth, Frodo would have welcomed the fuzzing of his senses, and the escape from pain. He watched passively as Sam crawled across the bed and picked up the wine glass, and then brought it back to his master.
"Here, Mr Frodo," Sam said as he tilted the glass to Frodo's lips, ever careful to give Frodo just the right amount, so that he did not choke. After Frodo had taken a couple of sips, Sam placed the glass back on the tray. The sturdy hobbit fidgeted a bit and sipped at his own wineglass. He was thinking about what Gimli had told him would happen if Frodo were unable to carry on as Ringbearer. Although the dwarf had insisted nothing would be decided without the hobbits' agreement, Sam had hotly protested being sent to continue the Quest with Mr Merry and not being allowed to stay and tend his master.
However he had finally agreed it might be for the best and a part of him actually hoped his master would resign himself to not go on, then Mr Frodo could stay in beautiful Lórien in peace. And he would most likely have his little cousin Pippin for company, so it was not as though he'd be all alone with these strangers, however nice and grand they were.
"Mr Frodo, I've something to tell you," Sam decided that Frodo would be relieved to know about the discussion, as it might mean taking take the onerous duty of the Ring away and the worry from his shoulders. "The others – the big folk – have been talking about what would happen if you. . . well that is. . . if you. . ."
"What Sam?" Frodo croaked, "please don't torment me, I can't play guessing games."
"I'm so sorry Mr Frodo," Sam was all contrition. "It's just that I'm not sure where to begin."
"The beginning is a good place." Frodo managed a small chuckle.
"Mr Gimli said that if you weren't well enough to continue on with the Quest. . ." Sam decided the end might be a better place to start. "That the others thought – though nothing is decided yet – not without your say-so – it would be best if Mr Merry took the Ring to Mount Doom and that I went with him and that you and Mr Pippin, if he's not well either, stay here in Lórien. There I think I got all of it right." Sam puffed a breath, he had garbled the message as quickly as he could.
"You mean. . ." Frodo, forgetting his instructions to rest his arms and that it hurt to talk, suddenly clutched at his neck to find the Ring and held it tightly in his hand. ". . . you mean they decided all that, without even asking me?"
"No Mr Frodo, it's not decided." Sam's brow furrowed at the alarmed look on his master's face, he had been expecting a sigh of relief. "As I said, they were only thinking on what might be done if you were. . . well you know. . . if you couldn't. . ." Sam trailed off again, lost for words and embarrassed at Frodo's reaction to the news.
"I see Sam." Frodo drew in a painful deep breath and fought down the panic he had felt rising in his heart at the thought of being parted from the Ring. He closed his eyes and counted slowly to calm himself down. He should not be having these thoughts, his mission, after all, was to destroy the Ring, to cast it away from him, not to hold on to it at all costs. Perhaps it was just the thought of having the task of destroying the Ring removed from him without his agreement that had distressed him so much.
"When did they say this would happen? Frodo asked, his voice raspy with effort. "At what point am I to be deemed unfit? Or was this plan in the event of me dying?" The thought came to Frodo in a sudden rush. That was why they were making such plans without him, they still thought he was not going to recover! "Oh Sam, am I going to die? Is that what they said?"
"No Mr Frodo." Sam was horrified at the thought, and at the reaction Frodo was having to his bit of news, "and don't you go talking like that neither. You'll be well again soon, I'm sure."
"But why would they say something . . . some. . . thing. . .?" Frodo was suddenly overwhelmed by a coughing fit that wracked his body and he desperately tried to still the hacking as each spasm caused terrible distress to his wounds.
"Steady Mr Frodo," Sam took the glass of wine once more and offered his master a drink. Frodo closed his eyes in refusal, still coughing. He did not think he could manage the wine right now. Sam took his shoulders and lifted him up slightly, which did at last ease the fit. "There now, let me give you a sip of the wine Mr Frodo, it will ease your throat a little, you'll see."
Now that the coughing had lessened, Frodo took a gulp of the wine and relaxed back into Sam's arms as the liquid soothed away the dreadful hack in his throat. But now his voice had diminished from a croak to a whisper, "I ca. . .aan't le. . .. t Me. . . rry. . . can't . . . take . . . I wo.. n't . . ."
"Don't try to talk Mister Frodo," Sam put his finger on his master's lips to silence him. "You're just putting more strain on your poor throat."
Frodo pushed Sam's finger away, once more straining his right shoulder. "Gi. . . ive me the sp. . . sp. . . oon." Frodo indicated that he wanted to sit up a little more and gestured towards the tray.
"No Mr Frodo, you heard what Lady Melystra said." Sam reminded him. "I'll help you if you want any more." He moved the tray over to Frodo again and prepared to feed him the rest of the meal.
"No S-ssam!" Frodo hissed through gritted teeth. "I w-wa. . . nt t-to do it my. . .sssself!" He managed to reach forward enough to get hold of Sam's hand, holding the spoon. "Gi-vve it t-to me Sssam!"
"Mr Frodo you're going to hurt yourself," Sam moved his master's hand back onto the counterpane. "Now open wide and I'll feed you."
"I. . . not. . . an in-ffffant! Gi-vvve!" Frodo demanded the spoon with a decidedly ferocious tone to his voice. "n-n-ow, Ssss-am!"
Sam almost dropped the spoon with shock. Frodo had never talked to him like that before, even if he did something really stupid or fussed too much over him. Frodo always accepted it with good grace, whether he needed the fussing or not.
Frodo could hear his voice and realised with horror the tone that he had taken with his Sam and yet, while it was his voice and his desire to take the spoon from his servant, there was something else within him making him feel angry, possessive! He had never been possessive in his life. There had been many accusations, chiefly from the Sackville-Baggins tribe, that he had schemed and calculated his way into Bilbo's affections in order to become his sole heir, but Frodo, and those who loved him, knew it was not true – he had never lusted after dragon's gold.
Frodo could feel his anger at Sam changing to tears, but the tears were for himself. He did not want anyone to take the Ring from him and the thought of handing the precious thing to his cousin Merry was too appalling to contemplate. In his mind's eye Frodo could suddenly see the Ring glinting on its chain, peeping at him every so often from inside the slightly open neck of Merry's shirt. His cousin was laughing and everyone was petting and talking to Merry. Sam was stroking his hand and Pippin looked up at him even more adoringly.
Frodo shook his head as much as he was able. Those thoughts were not of his bidding and the feeling that went with it was unbearable. Suddenly he recognised what he was being made to experience by the Ring – jealousy! He had never had a jealous thought in all his life before. If this was what the Ring was making him feel now, how would he be if he was forced to relinquish it to Merry?
Frodo tried to compose himself. He looked up at Sam's devastated face and unclenched his fist. "J-jussst give the s-sspoon – plea- ease. I mu-sst have it." If he could at least try to feed himself a little he might convince Sam and the others that there was no need to give the Ring to Merry. He would recover and continue with the Quest.
Sam finally acquiesced, so frightened had he been by Frodo's attitude he dare not agitate him further. He put the spoon in his master's hand and pushed the dish as close as he possibly could so that the reach would not be too far.
Frodo managed to deliver a spoonful of food to his mouth and followed up with another and another. Pleased with his success, he now smiled up at the worried Sam. "Sssorry S-Sam. But you sss-see I c-can do it!"
"Mr Frodo!" Sam's face suddenly became contorted with alarm. "Your shoulder!"
Frodo dropped the spoon and cast his eyes down to where Sam was pointing. Far from helping his case, a large ribbon of blood was staining the bandage on his shoulder. Frodo fell back against the pillows as the pool spread to the linen. His body heaved with uncontrollable sobs and tears ran down his cheeks. He had failed. They would take the Ring from him and give it to Merry and he would die, though not from his injuries, but from the loss.
0-****-0
"My Lady," Aragorn spoke very quietly so that Pippin could not hear. "That was truly impressive, my thanks to you once again."
"Do not thank me too soon, Estel." She raised her eyebrows a little as sadness tinged her voice. "It is a temporary mend. The effects will be short lived. I took his memory back to a better place, that is all. Sadly the later memories will eventually return."
"Then do you think he ever can be healed?" Aragorn asked. He saw Merry's attentive ears prick up at the question. Hobbit hearing he had realised some time ago was better than that of men.
"The scars in his mind are very deep and very dreadful." Galadriel touched Pippin's short curls lightly so that he looked up and smiled lovingly at the Lady, seemingly unaware of what she was saying, but still munching happily. "I have given him a brief respite so that he may enjoy his treat and perhaps take some healing from it."
"Is there nothing more that you can do?" Merry would not normally have interrupted a conversation between Aragorn and the Lady of the Golden Wood, but when it came to Pip and his well-being, nothing else mattered to the hobbit. "Begging you pardon Milady." He added as politely as he could.
"It is not something to be lightly undertaken," Galadriel said solemnly. "Because much else may be lost and it is a long and difficult road to take."
"But if the little one is not going to get over the trauma in any other way," Aragorn said, "if this nightmare haunts him forever and affects every thing he does and says. . ." The ranger paused, looking for the right argument. "I can heal his body, but I have not the skill to heal his mind and I think perhaps the mind is more delicate and precious and harder to heal than any flesh and bone."
"But has more need to be whole." Merry added quietly.
"Indeed Meriadoc," Galadriel smiled at the hobbit. "You have learned much from Peregrin's healing, including what may not be healed and how to accept that."
Merry bowed his head sadly and then, looking up at Pippin, his eyes lit with a soft glow of love and happiness at the pleasure Pippin was taking for the moment in his food. The little hobbit ate slowly but determinedly and tackled everything put before him with a will.
"But there is a little hope." Galadriel spoke again. "But as I say, it is not an easy choice." The Lady paused for a moment looking around to see who's attention was on the conversation. She saw that all were listening except for Pippin, which was her intention. "I have the ability to wipe all memory from the little one's mind, to take every recollection of events, good and bad from him forever. He would become as a newborn child again."
"But. . . but that would be. . ." Merry was stunned by this stark choice. He had hoped for something a little less drastic. "He would forget everyone and everything? His family and the Shire and. . . and everything?"
"He could be re-taught much of what he has lost." Galadriel looked at the still happily munching hobbit. "Most of it would lie just beneath the surface and gradually he could be encouraged to regain those memories that need to be kept. But the bad memories could be banished forever."
"Do you think Pippin would chose such a course himself?" Boromir asked.
"I would not take such action without his consent." Galadriel replied. "He must first be counselled and the decision must be his." She turned to Merry again, "But I think, little one, you must be his guide."
"I would willingly walk into the fires of Mount Doom for Pippin." Merry bit his lip a little. "But I do not know the way. I don't know if I am the best person to help him make such a choice."
"No," Galadriel agreed. "It will be a difficult road but you shall have help."
"Whatever healing skills I possess Merry," Aragorn spoke quietly, "be it for the body or mind, I gladly offer to make Pippin whole again."
"If the wisdom of my years can be of any help in guiding Pippin to the right course," Legolas agreed, "it is at your disposal Merry."
"Small help you might think a brusque dwarf may be in such matters," Gimli added. "It has been said we are cold and indifferent to plight of others and that may be true, but I have come to love the little one very dearly and if there is aught this dwarf can do to ease his pain, consider it done."
"And I," Boromir said, "I did not even know what a halfling was ere I left my home, that scarcely seems possible now. Pippin has my heart and whatever strength lies in my body is his to command."
"Meriadoc," Haldir spoke unexpectedly, laying his hand across his heart. "I owe Pippin a great debt. He enabled me to see where before I was blind. I would be grateful to repay any small part of that which he gave me, in any way I can."
Merry looked about him, totally lost for words, but there was no need. As he watched Pippin still happily eating, Icicle came to Merry, and sat down next to him. She laid her great paw upon his knee and looked solemnly up into his face.
"There Merry," Galadriel smiled at him. "I think you have volunteers enough to help Pippin make the right choice."
"But. . . but. . ." Merry was glad to know he would not have to guide Pippin alone in this decision. "How must he choose? What must he do?"
"He must recall all that happened." Galadriel's face became very solemn, understanding the enormity of this and the suffering it would cause to the halfling and his companions, "Then decide if he can live with those memories or not."
TBC
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Author's Notes
Hi Everyone – I decided to do Author's Notes today as Kookaburra keeps trying to encourage me to take more responsibility for this story. I started beta-ing for her around chapter 7 (the notorious chapter 7), but I added material and that was when we started co-writing.
Nowadays we plan the plot via email and then we usually write about half each and we each take a section to work on. Then Marigold beta's it and I generally end up fixing any problems that she finds.
I'm putting this note in to explain the process, as Kookaburra is forever saying to reviewers – oh Llinos did that bit or whatever because she always feels bad about accepting kudos for the parts I write.
Anyway – we work as a team so just address your praise (ahem) or flames (no pleasssse not) to K&LL Incorporated.
Thank you for your attention
Llinos
Hi all, this is just a bit from Kookaburra- You all have no idea how much fun it is to work with Llinos and Marigold like this. They really do give their all for the story, and I have learned sooo much by working with them. This story would not be a quarter of what it has grown to be under their guidance. Thanks guys!
(This has been a K&LL Incorporated production in co-operation with Marigold.)
Q&A
LilyBaggins: LOL at the use of Shire geography to gauge Pippin's pain--that was so clever. :)
Llinos: Thought that from 1 to 10 was a bit too modern.
LilyBaggings: More Frodo angst, eh? and you haven't forgotten my story?
Llinos: Kookaburra's done a deal with you! I can tell – naughty Kookaburra! :-)
Kookaburra:*looks guilty* no I haven't forgotten it, I'm just not able to write two fics at once, though maybe I'll try soon!
HMP the hobbit vampire jedi: oh, so sweet ^.^
Llinos: That's hobbits for you.
Anon: Great story! Please continue...
Llinos: Couldn't refuse you Anon! :-)
Baylor: Don't take so long with a new chapter this time! Looking forward to it.
Llinos: Well you know how it is Baylor – butter spread over too much bread.
spike: nice touch with pippin thinking his breeches had betrayed him by coming off so easily
Llinos: Bad breeches – oh and that's a nice Kookaburra touch.
Claudia: Yay! Finally found this!
Llinos: Oh please, please don't lose it again Claudia – we value our reviewers – each and every one.
Coriandra: It's sad too, considering what's going to happen to Boromir
Llinos: Oh no! What's going to happen to Boz! Oh yes – bad stuff, perhaps we'll get Icy to save him, I'm sure she could.
august wynd: ..and a new ringbearer
Llinos: Hmm – can we let it come to that – keep reading!
Dylan: Surely, it will be difficult to find a good ending to this story...
Llinos: We're working on it – but not for a while yet.
Dylan: Keep posting new chapters!
Llinos: You keep reading – we'll keep posting – it's a deal!
Shirebound: What an interesting conversation about the "next Ringbearer"!
Llinos: This bit almost wrote itself. Always believed that was why Gandalf let M&P go on the Quest and not some great elf lord.
katakanadian: About how many chapters do you think this is going to end up being? 40? 50?
Llinos: That's in the lap of the Valar.
TTTurtle: You are NOT seriously considering leaving Pippin and Frodo behind???? MORE Frodoangst coming!!!!!!
Llinos: Put those two things together and it actually works! No that's a joke – honestly.
TTTurtle: Poor Pippin........he is going to have many flashbacks I fear :(
Llinos: Hmm – looks like that's the way it's going – sorry folks.
Authors: Kookaburra and Llinos
Beta: Marigold
AN:(Kookaburra) Hi everyone, on request from Marigold I drew a picture of Pippin in his elven robe. If you cut and paste this link into the browser, you should be able to view it. I am not really satisfied with it, as I rarely work with watercolours, graphite is my main medium. If you would like to see more art, visit my elfwood gallery, which is listed under my homepage in my author page.
Pippin pic link-
http://www.thetolkienforum.com/attachment.php?s=&postid=231497
***
As Boromir carried Pippin down the stairs he felt the hobbit growing more and more tense. His arms clung more tightly around his neck and his breathing became rapid. When they reached the foot of the stairs and came onto the greensward Pippin wriggled in the strong man's grasp and called frantically, "Merry!"
"Shh. . . Pippin," Boromir soothed him, "it's all right, Merry is here. He's walking right beside us. Look down and you will see him."
Before Pippin could locate Merry with his eyes, his cousin had heard the edge of panic in his tone and caught hold of his dangling foot, "I won't leave you Pip, I'm right here." He squeezed the foot through the woolly stocking, "We're all going to have dinner."
Aragorn put his hand on Boromir's shoulder and said quietly, "Perhaps Pippin would like to walk the rest of the way - it's not far."
Boromir understood that Aragorn actually thought it would be a good idea, but they needed to ask. "Would you like that Pippin?" Boromir whispered.
Pippin sniffed a little. He had calmed considerably once Merry had taken hold of his foot. "Yes please, I think I can."
Very carefully the little hobbit was set on the ground and Merry immediately took his hand to steady him, while Boromir took the other, stretching his arm down so that Pippin did not have to reach up. Slowly Pippin walked along, still a little doubled over, but better than before, and increasingly using the helping hands for balance rather than support.
Once they arrived at the table, where Legolas and Gimli were waiting, Pippin was lifted up to sit on a well cushioned chair, with Merry sitting beside him, also bolstered up with cushions so that he could reach the table.
The others then took their places; Aragorn sat the other side of Pippin with Boromir opposite. Legolas and Gimli sat next to each other also on the opposite side to the hobbits.
Sam brought the food out and set it upon the table. The pie was hot from the warm oven and there was new bread and butter, and honey, together with roast wood pigeons in gooseberry sauce, buttered celery hearts and sweet glazed potatoes. There was also a good quantity of wine, both crimson and clear and a syrupy mead to drink.
Sam served Pippin first, as the guest of honour, and cut into the golden piecrust to reveal the creamy sauce covered mushrooms. He ladled a good helping onto the plate and Merry cut a piece of bread and scraped some butter on it before putting it in Pippin's passive hand.
Sam then dished up a tray of food and begged his leave of the others, as he wanted to take a little something up to Frodo. The "little something" was a good portion of the pie filling with a tiny taste of crust; some roast wood pigeon and gooseberry sauce and a flagon of wine, plus a little each of the vegetables. Sam, satisfied his tray was in order, trotted off to surprise his master with these delicacies.
Pippin watched in stunned silence as the others helped themselves to the food, filling their plates and chatting nonchalantly about this and that. All that is except Merry. He was watching Pippin carefully. His young cousin did not seem to be particularly at ease and followed the movements of the others as if seeing them for the first time.
What was actually running through Pippin's mind was the mess hall of the orcs, when he had been put on the table and they had. . . no. . . no don't think about that. That's over and done with, Pippin told himself sternly.
But it wouldn't go away. This setting was too familiar. Those terrible images, the frightening leering and jeering faces. It was not even as if it were a nightmare that he could wake up from, it had all happened, it was real. Pippin remembered what had followed. The terrible pain of the "hot root" they had called it and where they had put it. 'Ohhh! Nooo!' Pippin could almost feel it again – it had been so dreadful, the memory made him want to scream out loud.
But Merry was there. Merry was touching his hand now, gently, so gently. Nothing could hurt him if Merry was there.
"Pip! Pip! Come back, look at me." Merry was patting his hand now, worried at the faraway, frightened look in Pippin's eyes.
"Merry?" Pippin whispered the name, clutching at Merry's arm frantically to make sure he was really there. "I'm seeing it all again, help me Merry, it won't stop. . . I can't. . ."
"Don't panic Pip my love. Look carefully around." Merry had jumped down from his chair to hug Pippin closely. Now he turned him round a little to look at the anxious faces at the table.
They had all stopped talking as soon as they realised Pippin was on the verge of panic. "It's all right Pippin." Aragorn reassured him, "See, it's just a table and food and you're going to eat dinner with us. Do you remember?"
"Yes," Pippin whispered, "remember. . . I do remember. . . everything." Although Pippin's eyes just looked a little glazed, his mind was racing frantically round in terrifying circles. He saw the table in the orcs' mess hall and the snarling wargs on the floor, where he lay in agony from the red paste in his backside. Remembered the orc picking him up off the floor and feeding him - putting something in his mouth that had made him so ill, made him see nightmares that were worse than the one he was living.
"That's good Pip," Merry assumed that Pippin was recalling the plan to have a picnic. "Here let me help you. This is mushrooms in a pie." He scooped a bit of mushroom onto a fork and held it before Pippin's mouth. "Come on eat the mushroom Pip."
Pippin remembered sitting on the floor, a mushroom had just been forced down his throat and then he was swaying from side to side feeling sick and dizzy, unable to feel the ground beneath him. He had looked up and seen the whole Fellowship pointing and jeering at him and then Boromir had stepped into the circle with a whip. Pippin had pleaded with him for help, promising to be good and never annoy him again. But it had been to no avail. Boromir had lashed his helpless, abused body until it bled and he could no longer scream. Then he had passed the whip to Strider.
"No! No! No! Aaaiiieeee!" Pippin suddenly screamed a piercing heart-rending cry and slapped away the morsel Merry was holding out for him. He looked frantically round and there they all were, just like before. Boromir was looking at him and Strider was taking hold of him. Pippin fought this time. He made fists and punched and pummelled as hard as he could, all the time screaming and begging to be left alone. "Don't! Don't touch me, don't touch me. . . please don't touch me. . . leave me alone. . .please . . . please. . . Merry. . . Merry. . . where are you. . . please!"
-0****0-
Sam climbed up the lengthy stair to the healer's flet where Frodo was recuperating. When the other members of the fellowship had come out of the Lord and Lady's counsels, Gimli had explained what might come to pass regarding Frodo's ability to carry on with the Quest, and then the dwarf and the others urged Sam to tell Frodo what had been discussed. Now the sturdy gardener, laden with food from the picnic, was traversing the network of stairs and flets once again.
When he entered the room where Frodo was resting, he came upon Melystra, who was checking the battered hobbit's heartbeat and temperature. But the thing Sam noticed the most was Frodo's bright blue eyes- his master was awake again! Nearly dropping the tray in his excitement, Sam pattered over to the bedside, where he carefully placed the tray, and then stood on tip-toe to see his master upon the bed.
Frodo painfully turned his head to one side, trying to see more of Sam, however, all that was visible were Sam's eyes and the top of his curly head peeking over the counterpane. "Mr Frodo, it's so good to see you awake again!" exclaimed Sam. "We were awful worried – I hope you're feeling hungry. See, I've brought you some food."
Smiling, Frodo replied hoarsely, "Thank you, dear Sam," Frodo's smile widened as Sam beamed at the endearment. "Yes, I am rather hungry, but my throat is so sore. . ."
"Don't you worry Mr Frodo," Sam said as he searched for a way to climb on the bed without jostling his master. "Mr Legolas and Mr Gimli made a wonderful mushroom pie, and I've brought some – mostly filling, just as you like it. . ." Sam paused as he was caught about the waist by Melystra and deposited on the coverlet. He smiled up at the elven healer, "Thank you Ma-am." He turned back to Frodo again, ". . .it's smooth as milk, and I've also brought some wine and some boneless breast of wood pigeon in gooseberry sauce and some sweetened vegetables. Those should all go down nice and easy!"
"Thank you, Sam. It sounds and smells delicious. But," Frodo added, his face clouding, "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to sit up yet. How am I to eat, Lady Melystra?"
"The same as you always do, young Frodo." Melystra spoke for the first time. "I must put some very soft pillows behind your back, however. It is still badly torn, and too much pressure could reopen the wounds." While the elf bustled about, getting pillows and a small platter with legs for eating in bed, Sam uncovered the dishes and started making up a plate for both him and Frodo, he decided it would be more sociable to keep his master company. He ladled a generous amount of the mushroom filling into two small bowls, and placed several strips of meat on top and garnished the breast meat with the sauce. The wine posed a bit more of a problem. The glasses he had been provided with were elfsized- nearly three times as big as a hobbit would need. If any hobbit – even Mr Merry, who had a seemingly infinite capacity for alcohol – were to drink a whole glass, Sam would bet his best petunias that they would be tipsy in minutes. Well, he reasoned, best not to fill them up. The hobbit carefully balanced on the soft mattress while using both hands to pour two quarter glasses from the relatively large flagon of wine.
Melystra finished arranging Frodo on the pillows and placing the legged tray over his lap. Before she slipped out the door, she gave the hobbit one final admonition. "You are not to feed yourself Frodo. Let Samwise do it." she held up a white palm to forestall Frodo's protests. "This is not debatable, Mr Baggins. Your right shoulder muscles were torn in the attack, and the left ones were wrenched. You are to rest them bicompletely/i/b to prevent further damage. With that, she ghosted out the door, and closed it softly behind her.
"Well, Mr Frodo. Shall we get started? How are you feeling?" Sam sat down next to Frodo and spooned up some mushroom sauce, holding it at the ready for Frodo to eat.
Frodo blushed hotly. He was more than a little angry, not so much with Melystra, but with his current situation. He was not some drooling invalid who needed to be babied. "You don't have to do that Sam," said Frodo quietly, trying not to strain his voice. "I can feed myself, really." Frodo gave a wan smile and looked up at Samwise.
However Sam had experience with his master being ill before, and knew that Frodo hated to be nursed. "Of course you can't Mr Frodo," said Sam cheerily. "And it's healer's orders, besides. I'm not goin' to let you hurt yourself." Sam's sunny face clouded a little. "And. . .Mr G-gandalf told me to look after you, and not let anything hurt you. And anything means not even yourself. So open up, Mr Frodo." Frodo's mouth remained stubbornly shut, and the corners turned down. Sam sighed. His master was being sulky, and Frodo was even more impossible than young Master Pip when he was sulky. "Mr Frodo, now you need your strength. Let's not have any more of this nonsense." Still the mouth remained shut. After several minutes of wheedling and cajoling, Sam had had enough. Usually he was tolerant of his master's moods, but this time the situation was more dire, his master truly needed nourishment, and Sam was going to make sure he got it.
"Now, Mr Frodo, you biare/i/b going to eat this, if I have to hold your nose and force you to swallow." Frodo's eyes widened. He was pushing Sam's patience, and knew it.
"You wouldn't dare, Sam." Frodo challenged, trying to speak without opening his lips, knowing Sam would not miss the opportunity to deliver the waiting spoonful of food.
"Just see if I wouldn't, Mr Frodo. You're hurt, you need food, and you're not to feed yourself. Now, if I do have to force the point, there's sure to be an awful mess in here when we're done. If there is, I'm going to tell them exactly how I had to feed you like a spoiled babe in arms. Maybe next time Mr Boromir or Mr Strider will have to help me. Would you like that, Mr Frodo, or would you rather eat up for your Sam?" Sam hated to threaten Frodo's dignity like this, it was the one thing Frodo held dear most of all, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He held gazes with Frodo. Finally his master's eyes dropped in submission.
"All right Sam." sighed Frodo quietly. "You win." He opened his mouth, resigned to his fate.
"I'm glad, Mr Frodo. You really do need a good meal inside you." He slipped a spoonful of sauce into Frodo's mouth, and mopped up an errant dribble that escaped the corner of his master's lips with a fine linen napkin.
-0****0-
Aragorn was trying to hold Pippin still and lifted him up to stop him from hurting himself, while Boromir was rubbing his back gently and telling him urgently to calm down. Merry was standing on his chair so that he could reach Pippin's face and was repeating frantically over and over, "I'm here Pip! I won't leave you! I'm here! Pip it's all right!"
Gimli was roaring with effort, holding onto Icicle with all his strength as the warg fought him to get to her distressed pup, howling and growling threateningly at the dwarf. Legolas was rapidly explaining to several elven guards, led by Haldir that there was no attack and they did not need to defend anyone at the moment.
Pippin's special treat, the picnic, had turned into utter chaos, no one seemed to be able to bring Pippin back to the present, by touch or word or even by main force.
Suddenly everyone in the little glade heard the same thing, although the words were not spoken aloud. "Stop – enough! Be silent, be calm!" Icicle merely saw a picture in her head that showed her Pippin lying happily by her side, content and calm.
Pippin's screaming stopped abruptly, as did Icicle's howling and growling. The entreaties of all those around Pippin stilled also, along with the elves' demands to know what was happening. A small bird whistled a shimmering refrain and flew off as if embarrassed. All else was silent.
The Lady Galadriel moved soundlessly across the grass and, touching Aragorn lightly on the shoulder, held out her arms for Pippin. Wordlessly the hobbit was handed over and all looked in wonder as she held him cradled in her arms, his body stilled and his face calm.
She nodded towards the wooden carver at the head of the table and Legolas and Haldir almost fell over each other as they fetched the chair for the Lady to sit in with her burden. Gently Galadriel rocked Pippin to and fro like a mother with a newborn and she began to lilt a sweet childish lullaby in the common tongue, something no elf had heard her sing before, but the simple words on her elven lips were as charming as any Sindarin or Quenyan verses and calmed all who heard them.
Dreams shall fade,
be unmade,
the past is fled,
don't be afraid.
The sun is bright,
bathed in light,
memories die,
and take flight.
Precious child,
mercy smiled,
your dear heart,
the fates beguiled.
Cry no tears,
fear no fears,
ill thought flees,
and disappears.
Hear this charm,
let it calm,
and keep you now,
safe from harm.
Pippin lay quietly in Galadriel's arms, a little smile playing about his lips. She carefully lifted him up and placed him back on the cushioned chair beside Merry. At a nod from the Lady, the other diners resumed their places and the watchful elves went back about their business, except Haldir who, at the invitation of Aragorn, also joined the picnic.
Aragorn took up a place the other side of Galadriel, who remained seated next to Pippin. The hobbit looked rather bemused by the whole setting now, as if he did not know where he was, but this time he seemed to be quite relaxed about the situation and allowed Merry to put the fork in his hand and started to eat with some relish.
Pippin's memory of the orc hall had gone for the moment. The only memories the laden table brought to mind were those of the Shire, sitting in the Great Smials big dining room at Yuletide or the grand banqueting room at Brandy Hall for Merry's coming of age. He remembered Bilbo's party in the field under the great tree, so long ago when he was just a child. Pippin felt the golden crust of the pie melt in his mouth and the delicious sauce on the mushrooms tingle on his taste buds for the first time in so, so long. Real food! He had almost forgotten the sheer pleasure of food!
0-****-0
Frodo leaned back into the comforting pillows, his stomach pleasantly full with wonderful, warm food. "Sam." he said quietly. "I'm a bit thirsty, would you. . ."
"Of course, Mr Frodo. See, I've got a wine glass here on the bed stand. I haven't filled it too full. Can't have you getting tipsy now."
Frodo smiled wanly. "No, can't have that. . ." In truth, Frodo would have welcomed the fuzzing of his senses, and the escape from pain. He watched passively as Sam crawled across the bed and picked up the wine glass, and then brought it back to his master.
"Here, Mr Frodo," Sam said as he tilted the glass to Frodo's lips, ever careful to give Frodo just the right amount, so that he did not choke. After Frodo had taken a couple of sips, Sam placed the glass back on the tray. The sturdy hobbit fidgeted a bit and sipped at his own wineglass. He was thinking about what Gimli had told him would happen if Frodo were unable to carry on as Ringbearer. Although the dwarf had insisted nothing would be decided without the hobbits' agreement, Sam had hotly protested being sent to continue the Quest with Mr Merry and not being allowed to stay and tend his master.
However he had finally agreed it might be for the best and a part of him actually hoped his master would resign himself to not go on, then Mr Frodo could stay in beautiful Lórien in peace. And he would most likely have his little cousin Pippin for company, so it was not as though he'd be all alone with these strangers, however nice and grand they were.
"Mr Frodo, I've something to tell you," Sam decided that Frodo would be relieved to know about the discussion, as it might mean taking take the onerous duty of the Ring away and the worry from his shoulders. "The others – the big folk – have been talking about what would happen if you. . . well that is. . . if you. . ."
"What Sam?" Frodo croaked, "please don't torment me, I can't play guessing games."
"I'm so sorry Mr Frodo," Sam was all contrition. "It's just that I'm not sure where to begin."
"The beginning is a good place." Frodo managed a small chuckle.
"Mr Gimli said that if you weren't well enough to continue on with the Quest. . ." Sam decided the end might be a better place to start. "That the others thought – though nothing is decided yet – not without your say-so – it would be best if Mr Merry took the Ring to Mount Doom and that I went with him and that you and Mr Pippin, if he's not well either, stay here in Lórien. There I think I got all of it right." Sam puffed a breath, he had garbled the message as quickly as he could.
"You mean. . ." Frodo, forgetting his instructions to rest his arms and that it hurt to talk, suddenly clutched at his neck to find the Ring and held it tightly in his hand. ". . . you mean they decided all that, without even asking me?"
"No Mr Frodo, it's not decided." Sam's brow furrowed at the alarmed look on his master's face, he had been expecting a sigh of relief. "As I said, they were only thinking on what might be done if you were. . . well you know. . . if you couldn't. . ." Sam trailed off again, lost for words and embarrassed at Frodo's reaction to the news.
"I see Sam." Frodo drew in a painful deep breath and fought down the panic he had felt rising in his heart at the thought of being parted from the Ring. He closed his eyes and counted slowly to calm himself down. He should not be having these thoughts, his mission, after all, was to destroy the Ring, to cast it away from him, not to hold on to it at all costs. Perhaps it was just the thought of having the task of destroying the Ring removed from him without his agreement that had distressed him so much.
"When did they say this would happen? Frodo asked, his voice raspy with effort. "At what point am I to be deemed unfit? Or was this plan in the event of me dying?" The thought came to Frodo in a sudden rush. That was why they were making such plans without him, they still thought he was not going to recover! "Oh Sam, am I going to die? Is that what they said?"
"No Mr Frodo." Sam was horrified at the thought, and at the reaction Frodo was having to his bit of news, "and don't you go talking like that neither. You'll be well again soon, I'm sure."
"But why would they say something . . . some. . . thing. . .?" Frodo was suddenly overwhelmed by a coughing fit that wracked his body and he desperately tried to still the hacking as each spasm caused terrible distress to his wounds.
"Steady Mr Frodo," Sam took the glass of wine once more and offered his master a drink. Frodo closed his eyes in refusal, still coughing. He did not think he could manage the wine right now. Sam took his shoulders and lifted him up slightly, which did at last ease the fit. "There now, let me give you a sip of the wine Mr Frodo, it will ease your throat a little, you'll see."
Now that the coughing had lessened, Frodo took a gulp of the wine and relaxed back into Sam's arms as the liquid soothed away the dreadful hack in his throat. But now his voice had diminished from a croak to a whisper, "I ca. . .aan't le. . .. t Me. . . rry. . . can't . . . take . . . I wo.. n't . . ."
"Don't try to talk Mister Frodo," Sam put his finger on his master's lips to silence him. "You're just putting more strain on your poor throat."
Frodo pushed Sam's finger away, once more straining his right shoulder. "Gi. . . ive me the sp. . . sp. . . oon." Frodo indicated that he wanted to sit up a little more and gestured towards the tray.
"No Mr Frodo, you heard what Lady Melystra said." Sam reminded him. "I'll help you if you want any more." He moved the tray over to Frodo again and prepared to feed him the rest of the meal.
"No S-ssam!" Frodo hissed through gritted teeth. "I w-wa. . . nt t-to do it my. . .sssself!" He managed to reach forward enough to get hold of Sam's hand, holding the spoon. "Gi-vve it t-to me Sssam!"
"Mr Frodo you're going to hurt yourself," Sam moved his master's hand back onto the counterpane. "Now open wide and I'll feed you."
"I. . . not. . . an in-ffffant! Gi-vvve!" Frodo demanded the spoon with a decidedly ferocious tone to his voice. "n-n-ow, Ssss-am!"
Sam almost dropped the spoon with shock. Frodo had never talked to him like that before, even if he did something really stupid or fussed too much over him. Frodo always accepted it with good grace, whether he needed the fussing or not.
Frodo could hear his voice and realised with horror the tone that he had taken with his Sam and yet, while it was his voice and his desire to take the spoon from his servant, there was something else within him making him feel angry, possessive! He had never been possessive in his life. There had been many accusations, chiefly from the Sackville-Baggins tribe, that he had schemed and calculated his way into Bilbo's affections in order to become his sole heir, but Frodo, and those who loved him, knew it was not true – he had never lusted after dragon's gold.
Frodo could feel his anger at Sam changing to tears, but the tears were for himself. He did not want anyone to take the Ring from him and the thought of handing the precious thing to his cousin Merry was too appalling to contemplate. In his mind's eye Frodo could suddenly see the Ring glinting on its chain, peeping at him every so often from inside the slightly open neck of Merry's shirt. His cousin was laughing and everyone was petting and talking to Merry. Sam was stroking his hand and Pippin looked up at him even more adoringly.
Frodo shook his head as much as he was able. Those thoughts were not of his bidding and the feeling that went with it was unbearable. Suddenly he recognised what he was being made to experience by the Ring – jealousy! He had never had a jealous thought in all his life before. If this was what the Ring was making him feel now, how would he be if he was forced to relinquish it to Merry?
Frodo tried to compose himself. He looked up at Sam's devastated face and unclenched his fist. "J-jussst give the s-sspoon – plea- ease. I mu-sst have it." If he could at least try to feed himself a little he might convince Sam and the others that there was no need to give the Ring to Merry. He would recover and continue with the Quest.
Sam finally acquiesced, so frightened had he been by Frodo's attitude he dare not agitate him further. He put the spoon in his master's hand and pushed the dish as close as he possibly could so that the reach would not be too far.
Frodo managed to deliver a spoonful of food to his mouth and followed up with another and another. Pleased with his success, he now smiled up at the worried Sam. "Sssorry S-Sam. But you sss-see I c-can do it!"
"Mr Frodo!" Sam's face suddenly became contorted with alarm. "Your shoulder!"
Frodo dropped the spoon and cast his eyes down to where Sam was pointing. Far from helping his case, a large ribbon of blood was staining the bandage on his shoulder. Frodo fell back against the pillows as the pool spread to the linen. His body heaved with uncontrollable sobs and tears ran down his cheeks. He had failed. They would take the Ring from him and give it to Merry and he would die, though not from his injuries, but from the loss.
0-****-0
"My Lady," Aragorn spoke very quietly so that Pippin could not hear. "That was truly impressive, my thanks to you once again."
"Do not thank me too soon, Estel." She raised her eyebrows a little as sadness tinged her voice. "It is a temporary mend. The effects will be short lived. I took his memory back to a better place, that is all. Sadly the later memories will eventually return."
"Then do you think he ever can be healed?" Aragorn asked. He saw Merry's attentive ears prick up at the question. Hobbit hearing he had realised some time ago was better than that of men.
"The scars in his mind are very deep and very dreadful." Galadriel touched Pippin's short curls lightly so that he looked up and smiled lovingly at the Lady, seemingly unaware of what she was saying, but still munching happily. "I have given him a brief respite so that he may enjoy his treat and perhaps take some healing from it."
"Is there nothing more that you can do?" Merry would not normally have interrupted a conversation between Aragorn and the Lady of the Golden Wood, but when it came to Pip and his well-being, nothing else mattered to the hobbit. "Begging you pardon Milady." He added as politely as he could.
"It is not something to be lightly undertaken," Galadriel said solemnly. "Because much else may be lost and it is a long and difficult road to take."
"But if the little one is not going to get over the trauma in any other way," Aragorn said, "if this nightmare haunts him forever and affects every thing he does and says. . ." The ranger paused, looking for the right argument. "I can heal his body, but I have not the skill to heal his mind and I think perhaps the mind is more delicate and precious and harder to heal than any flesh and bone."
"But has more need to be whole." Merry added quietly.
"Indeed Meriadoc," Galadriel smiled at the hobbit. "You have learned much from Peregrin's healing, including what may not be healed and how to accept that."
Merry bowed his head sadly and then, looking up at Pippin, his eyes lit with a soft glow of love and happiness at the pleasure Pippin was taking for the moment in his food. The little hobbit ate slowly but determinedly and tackled everything put before him with a will.
"But there is a little hope." Galadriel spoke again. "But as I say, it is not an easy choice." The Lady paused for a moment looking around to see who's attention was on the conversation. She saw that all were listening except for Pippin, which was her intention. "I have the ability to wipe all memory from the little one's mind, to take every recollection of events, good and bad from him forever. He would become as a newborn child again."
"But. . . but that would be. . ." Merry was stunned by this stark choice. He had hoped for something a little less drastic. "He would forget everyone and everything? His family and the Shire and. . . and everything?"
"He could be re-taught much of what he has lost." Galadriel looked at the still happily munching hobbit. "Most of it would lie just beneath the surface and gradually he could be encouraged to regain those memories that need to be kept. But the bad memories could be banished forever."
"Do you think Pippin would chose such a course himself?" Boromir asked.
"I would not take such action without his consent." Galadriel replied. "He must first be counselled and the decision must be his." She turned to Merry again, "But I think, little one, you must be his guide."
"I would willingly walk into the fires of Mount Doom for Pippin." Merry bit his lip a little. "But I do not know the way. I don't know if I am the best person to help him make such a choice."
"No," Galadriel agreed. "It will be a difficult road but you shall have help."
"Whatever healing skills I possess Merry," Aragorn spoke quietly, "be it for the body or mind, I gladly offer to make Pippin whole again."
"If the wisdom of my years can be of any help in guiding Pippin to the right course," Legolas agreed, "it is at your disposal Merry."
"Small help you might think a brusque dwarf may be in such matters," Gimli added. "It has been said we are cold and indifferent to plight of others and that may be true, but I have come to love the little one very dearly and if there is aught this dwarf can do to ease his pain, consider it done."
"And I," Boromir said, "I did not even know what a halfling was ere I left my home, that scarcely seems possible now. Pippin has my heart and whatever strength lies in my body is his to command."
"Meriadoc," Haldir spoke unexpectedly, laying his hand across his heart. "I owe Pippin a great debt. He enabled me to see where before I was blind. I would be grateful to repay any small part of that which he gave me, in any way I can."
Merry looked about him, totally lost for words, but there was no need. As he watched Pippin still happily eating, Icicle came to Merry, and sat down next to him. She laid her great paw upon his knee and looked solemnly up into his face.
"There Merry," Galadriel smiled at him. "I think you have volunteers enough to help Pippin make the right choice."
"But. . . but. . ." Merry was glad to know he would not have to guide Pippin alone in this decision. "How must he choose? What must he do?"
"He must recall all that happened." Galadriel's face became very solemn, understanding the enormity of this and the suffering it would cause to the halfling and his companions, "Then decide if he can live with those memories or not."
TBC
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Author's Notes
Hi Everyone – I decided to do Author's Notes today as Kookaburra keeps trying to encourage me to take more responsibility for this story. I started beta-ing for her around chapter 7 (the notorious chapter 7), but I added material and that was when we started co-writing.
Nowadays we plan the plot via email and then we usually write about half each and we each take a section to work on. Then Marigold beta's it and I generally end up fixing any problems that she finds.
I'm putting this note in to explain the process, as Kookaburra is forever saying to reviewers – oh Llinos did that bit or whatever because she always feels bad about accepting kudos for the parts I write.
Anyway – we work as a team so just address your praise (ahem) or flames (no pleasssse not) to K&LL Incorporated.
Thank you for your attention
Llinos
Hi all, this is just a bit from Kookaburra- You all have no idea how much fun it is to work with Llinos and Marigold like this. They really do give their all for the story, and I have learned sooo much by working with them. This story would not be a quarter of what it has grown to be under their guidance. Thanks guys!
(This has been a K&LL Incorporated production in co-operation with Marigold.)
Q&A
LilyBaggins: LOL at the use of Shire geography to gauge Pippin's pain--that was so clever. :)
Llinos: Thought that from 1 to 10 was a bit too modern.
LilyBaggings: More Frodo angst, eh? and you haven't forgotten my story?
Llinos: Kookaburra's done a deal with you! I can tell – naughty Kookaburra! :-)
Kookaburra:*looks guilty* no I haven't forgotten it, I'm just not able to write two fics at once, though maybe I'll try soon!
HMP the hobbit vampire jedi: oh, so sweet ^.^
Llinos: That's hobbits for you.
Anon: Great story! Please continue...
Llinos: Couldn't refuse you Anon! :-)
Baylor: Don't take so long with a new chapter this time! Looking forward to it.
Llinos: Well you know how it is Baylor – butter spread over too much bread.
spike: nice touch with pippin thinking his breeches had betrayed him by coming off so easily
Llinos: Bad breeches – oh and that's a nice Kookaburra touch.
Claudia: Yay! Finally found this!
Llinos: Oh please, please don't lose it again Claudia – we value our reviewers – each and every one.
Coriandra: It's sad too, considering what's going to happen to Boromir
Llinos: Oh no! What's going to happen to Boz! Oh yes – bad stuff, perhaps we'll get Icy to save him, I'm sure she could.
august wynd: ..and a new ringbearer
Llinos: Hmm – can we let it come to that – keep reading!
Dylan: Surely, it will be difficult to find a good ending to this story...
Llinos: We're working on it – but not for a while yet.
Dylan: Keep posting new chapters!
Llinos: You keep reading – we'll keep posting – it's a deal!
Shirebound: What an interesting conversation about the "next Ringbearer"!
Llinos: This bit almost wrote itself. Always believed that was why Gandalf let M&P go on the Quest and not some great elf lord.
katakanadian: About how many chapters do you think this is going to end up being? 40? 50?
Llinos: That's in the lap of the Valar.
TTTurtle: You are NOT seriously considering leaving Pippin and Frodo behind???? MORE Frodoangst coming!!!!!!
Llinos: Put those two things together and it actually works! No that's a joke – honestly.
TTTurtle: Poor Pippin........he is going to have many flashbacks I fear :(
Llinos: Hmm – looks like that's the way it's going – sorry folks.