Frodo stirred. He lifted his aching head and there was a blinding flash in
his vision. He reeled and hit the ground again. It was hard and very very
cold. That flash was all around him, it was pain. He could see it and he
could feel it tear through him right down to the center of his very bones.
He cried out but his voice was swallowed by darkness. He looked around for
a moment and let the throbbing agony settle. He could see nothing. Not even
himself. Was it that dark? It appeared that the darkness was indeed thick.
He could reach out a hand and touch it. But he could not see the hand. He
could not feel the hand. Where was he? Who was he? He could not tell. He
blinked a moment. This was all he knew. Of course, he knew no other
existence but this. This was where he always lived, alone, forsaken.
Forsaken by who? He pondered this a moment and the thoughts swirled all
around him in a torrent of seering misery.
He rose, or what felt like rising, and struggled forward. With every strive he felt another flash of pain and threw himself right back. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning, he gasped but got no air. Another struggle. Another failure resulting only in his anguish. He was trapped in midst of the merciless torrents of pain. All swirling through his mind. There was no escape from this. No getting used to it, for every time the blinding flash hit him it was born anew in his mind and he felt it just as strongly if not stronger than the first. He could not take this. He gasped but received no relief. Did he truly deserve this punishment? It was pure hell, pure anguish and self loathing. There was no room to breathe. There was never any one to help him. No one ever to pull him from the darkness. He was all alone, always alone. Was there any one else to begin with. He tried to call out but found he had no voice in this darkness. He existed only in emptyness. Only in anguish. He was truly a lowly creature. He sobbed quietly. Had he always lived like this? Was there never any other? He could not recall. Just him and he could not breath, he could not talk, he could not scream for all the anguish he was in. He was just there to suffer.
~~~
The clear eyes stayed unfocussed and the candle finally burnt away. Sam bit his lip to stop its trembling. "Sam this is not working," said Envin doubtfully. He turned and looked into the Pherrianath's eyes to see a silent plea swimming amongst the tears. Envin stiffened his back in resolute strength. "I will not give up, Samwise! You wait and see there is a way!" Sam nodded silently, not entirely in agreement but perhaps to show Envin that he trusted him and he did understand why the youth had such strong hope. Perhaps he could even find it in himself again. Indeed it seemed that after he became Samwise Gamgee, Frodo Baggins's servant, and faithful gardener of Bag-End, again, his old self was restored. He had Envin to thank for that. Even if all the world would call him 'Lord Samwise' or 'Samwise the Brave' if this one person called him just plain 'Samwise' he could find his old identity.
"Do- do ya think he's in pain, Envin?" said Sam rather shakily.
Envin furrowed his brow. "That's it Samwise!"
Sam jolted and stared at the man like a frightened rabbit. Envin bent down to seem less menacing. "I think I've got an idea. But it's up to you, Sam. Only you can say alright, and if you don't then we won't do it."
Sam nodded, not liking where this was going.
"Perhaps if we- if we could get him to respond- to- to something. But it'd have to be some kind of instinct. Some kind of stimulation. Sam you'll have to trust me. Do you trust me?"
Sam searched the young man's face for a moment then nodded. It felt strange. Often when it came to his master he trusted no one but himself. That's the way it always had been. But now a change was needed. Sam had to trust him. He saw the healer reached into a burlap bag lost among his herbs and other healing concoctions. He pulled out a thin blade. Sam felt bile rise in his throat and he shouted horsely.
"No wait just a minute!"
"You must trust me."
Envin examined the blade and it flickered brightly in the firelight. It was very thin and spotless. Envin held it in front of Frodo's range of sight and flickered the light in his eyes. There was no response. He reached out and grabbed Frodo's limp arm. Frodo surrendered his will to the healer and the arm rose. Envin picked a clean spot, far from any vital veins or arteries. Quick as silver lightning the blade swiped at the fair skin. The cut was so clean and quick Sam thought that Enivn had missed his master. But soo enough a red line could be seen growing on Frodo's arm. It bulged and a small crimson droplet ran down his pale arm. The brilliant red against the fair, milky skin was frightening to see. Sam let out a breath he did not know he was holding and he could taste the bile in his throat. He thought he saw something focus in Frodo's eyes, something look straight at him, but then it flickered away and he saw that the candle light was playing off of his master's fine features. He finally came to his senses.
"What are you doing!" he finally cried as Envin took out a rag and cleaned and dressed the small wound. He examined Frodo's blank expression and saw nothing. He felt the Ring-bearer's wrists and smiled. "His pulse has quickened."
"What does that mean?" Sam questioned warily.
"It means, dear Samwise, that he felt it! He is not all gone! He now recognizes that he indeed does have an arm!"
Sam burst into tears. A flicker of hope sparked inside of him and began a blaze. It was frightful that such a small thing, something even tiny infants knew from the moment they were born, Frodo did not know. He had an arm. He could feel in that arm. He did exist. Maybe soon he would realize that something *someone* around him existed! Maybe! Maybe just maybe one day he'll come back! Would it be so slow? Right now, speed did not matter, Sam would wait an age and a half. If his master could come back he'd make sure he would!
~~~
Frodo awoke again, at least it was the feeling of consciousness. But he was not conscious in the least bit. He looked around and he was still in the place of pain. But something had happened. There was a light. He could not tell from where but it flickered all around him. It was so very strange to him that he closed his eyes and hoped it would leave. He had learned that light often meant pain. He attempted to make himself as small as possible but such physical actions could not be done in one's mind. He looked again but all he saw was the thick darkness. He waited and the silence burned his ears while the stillness froze his bones. Everything was anguish and he would scream if he could.
There it was again. Things moved unnaturally slow. The flash came by and then left in a strange motion. It seemed to be coming from outside. He rose and strove forward slowly and warily. It was as if trying to move from inside a hard stone. It was just not possible. Every movement felt as if it were his last. As if finally everything would just shatter into nonexistance. But he had to see what this was. Again it roved passed him and he fell from the shock of seeing it. That was it. He could not go anymore. He was breathless. He was drowning and it all hurt so very much.
It was then that he thought he had given up when something happened. The darkness shrank back as water being washed away. He was alone in emptyness but not for long. There was another flash and for the smallest, shortest moment he saw something. Some strange creature. He had never seen anything like it before. He could not even describe it in his head. He did not know if it looked like him or not for he could not see himself. All Frodo could detect was the look of befuddled confusion and fear in his features. He was looking at something Frodo could not see. Then Frodo saw it. Or he thought he did. It was an arm. Yes that was the word. Wasn't it? His arm, a small rivulet of blood, blood? Yes blood he could remember that all too clearly. It was on the pale arm. But it was all gone before Frodo could recount it all in his mind and the dark waters returned to drown him. But this was a gasp of air. Just a gasp but it kept him alive. Hope flickered in him but was washed away. It was that moment that kept him fighting. As every second passed him he doubted the moments existence. The only proof was that he had another breath of air left in him. Oh his heart could not comprehend such joy! No, joy did not exist. There was no such thing! It was a trick. There was only pain. Even now he could feel it returning obliterating that foolish moment when he thought another creature existed.
Amongst the unnending pain Frodo sensed something. An odd sensation, that of a light tingle and a gentle throb. But it was not there. Not in this strange place. It was from somewhere outside. He could feel it. He strove for it. He lived to feel it again. He could feel something outside his prison walls. It dawned upon him. His body! He could feel it! Just a gentle tingle somewhere on his arm. But it was there! It existed! He cried with joy. Yes joy! It was joy! And he did exist! There was something out there. There was an out there! Such thoughts swirled in his mind. Too simple to comprehend anything else he dwelled upon this thought. Held it close. Thing's existed! They were a part of him. He existed outside of this dark room. And some creature was out there too. A sad little thing. Frodo tried to picture it again, but could not.
He rose, or what felt like rising, and struggled forward. With every strive he felt another flash of pain and threw himself right back. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning, he gasped but got no air. Another struggle. Another failure resulting only in his anguish. He was trapped in midst of the merciless torrents of pain. All swirling through his mind. There was no escape from this. No getting used to it, for every time the blinding flash hit him it was born anew in his mind and he felt it just as strongly if not stronger than the first. He could not take this. He gasped but received no relief. Did he truly deserve this punishment? It was pure hell, pure anguish and self loathing. There was no room to breathe. There was never any one to help him. No one ever to pull him from the darkness. He was all alone, always alone. Was there any one else to begin with. He tried to call out but found he had no voice in this darkness. He existed only in emptyness. Only in anguish. He was truly a lowly creature. He sobbed quietly. Had he always lived like this? Was there never any other? He could not recall. Just him and he could not breath, he could not talk, he could not scream for all the anguish he was in. He was just there to suffer.
~~~
The clear eyes stayed unfocussed and the candle finally burnt away. Sam bit his lip to stop its trembling. "Sam this is not working," said Envin doubtfully. He turned and looked into the Pherrianath's eyes to see a silent plea swimming amongst the tears. Envin stiffened his back in resolute strength. "I will not give up, Samwise! You wait and see there is a way!" Sam nodded silently, not entirely in agreement but perhaps to show Envin that he trusted him and he did understand why the youth had such strong hope. Perhaps he could even find it in himself again. Indeed it seemed that after he became Samwise Gamgee, Frodo Baggins's servant, and faithful gardener of Bag-End, again, his old self was restored. He had Envin to thank for that. Even if all the world would call him 'Lord Samwise' or 'Samwise the Brave' if this one person called him just plain 'Samwise' he could find his old identity.
"Do- do ya think he's in pain, Envin?" said Sam rather shakily.
Envin furrowed his brow. "That's it Samwise!"
Sam jolted and stared at the man like a frightened rabbit. Envin bent down to seem less menacing. "I think I've got an idea. But it's up to you, Sam. Only you can say alright, and if you don't then we won't do it."
Sam nodded, not liking where this was going.
"Perhaps if we- if we could get him to respond- to- to something. But it'd have to be some kind of instinct. Some kind of stimulation. Sam you'll have to trust me. Do you trust me?"
Sam searched the young man's face for a moment then nodded. It felt strange. Often when it came to his master he trusted no one but himself. That's the way it always had been. But now a change was needed. Sam had to trust him. He saw the healer reached into a burlap bag lost among his herbs and other healing concoctions. He pulled out a thin blade. Sam felt bile rise in his throat and he shouted horsely.
"No wait just a minute!"
"You must trust me."
Envin examined the blade and it flickered brightly in the firelight. It was very thin and spotless. Envin held it in front of Frodo's range of sight and flickered the light in his eyes. There was no response. He reached out and grabbed Frodo's limp arm. Frodo surrendered his will to the healer and the arm rose. Envin picked a clean spot, far from any vital veins or arteries. Quick as silver lightning the blade swiped at the fair skin. The cut was so clean and quick Sam thought that Enivn had missed his master. But soo enough a red line could be seen growing on Frodo's arm. It bulged and a small crimson droplet ran down his pale arm. The brilliant red against the fair, milky skin was frightening to see. Sam let out a breath he did not know he was holding and he could taste the bile in his throat. He thought he saw something focus in Frodo's eyes, something look straight at him, but then it flickered away and he saw that the candle light was playing off of his master's fine features. He finally came to his senses.
"What are you doing!" he finally cried as Envin took out a rag and cleaned and dressed the small wound. He examined Frodo's blank expression and saw nothing. He felt the Ring-bearer's wrists and smiled. "His pulse has quickened."
"What does that mean?" Sam questioned warily.
"It means, dear Samwise, that he felt it! He is not all gone! He now recognizes that he indeed does have an arm!"
Sam burst into tears. A flicker of hope sparked inside of him and began a blaze. It was frightful that such a small thing, something even tiny infants knew from the moment they were born, Frodo did not know. He had an arm. He could feel in that arm. He did exist. Maybe soon he would realize that something *someone* around him existed! Maybe! Maybe just maybe one day he'll come back! Would it be so slow? Right now, speed did not matter, Sam would wait an age and a half. If his master could come back he'd make sure he would!
~~~
Frodo awoke again, at least it was the feeling of consciousness. But he was not conscious in the least bit. He looked around and he was still in the place of pain. But something had happened. There was a light. He could not tell from where but it flickered all around him. It was so very strange to him that he closed his eyes and hoped it would leave. He had learned that light often meant pain. He attempted to make himself as small as possible but such physical actions could not be done in one's mind. He looked again but all he saw was the thick darkness. He waited and the silence burned his ears while the stillness froze his bones. Everything was anguish and he would scream if he could.
There it was again. Things moved unnaturally slow. The flash came by and then left in a strange motion. It seemed to be coming from outside. He rose and strove forward slowly and warily. It was as if trying to move from inside a hard stone. It was just not possible. Every movement felt as if it were his last. As if finally everything would just shatter into nonexistance. But he had to see what this was. Again it roved passed him and he fell from the shock of seeing it. That was it. He could not go anymore. He was breathless. He was drowning and it all hurt so very much.
It was then that he thought he had given up when something happened. The darkness shrank back as water being washed away. He was alone in emptyness but not for long. There was another flash and for the smallest, shortest moment he saw something. Some strange creature. He had never seen anything like it before. He could not even describe it in his head. He did not know if it looked like him or not for he could not see himself. All Frodo could detect was the look of befuddled confusion and fear in his features. He was looking at something Frodo could not see. Then Frodo saw it. Or he thought he did. It was an arm. Yes that was the word. Wasn't it? His arm, a small rivulet of blood, blood? Yes blood he could remember that all too clearly. It was on the pale arm. But it was all gone before Frodo could recount it all in his mind and the dark waters returned to drown him. But this was a gasp of air. Just a gasp but it kept him alive. Hope flickered in him but was washed away. It was that moment that kept him fighting. As every second passed him he doubted the moments existence. The only proof was that he had another breath of air left in him. Oh his heart could not comprehend such joy! No, joy did not exist. There was no such thing! It was a trick. There was only pain. Even now he could feel it returning obliterating that foolish moment when he thought another creature existed.
Amongst the unnending pain Frodo sensed something. An odd sensation, that of a light tingle and a gentle throb. But it was not there. Not in this strange place. It was from somewhere outside. He could feel it. He strove for it. He lived to feel it again. He could feel something outside his prison walls. It dawned upon him. His body! He could feel it! Just a gentle tingle somewhere on his arm. But it was there! It existed! He cried with joy. Yes joy! It was joy! And he did exist! There was something out there. There was an out there! Such thoughts swirled in his mind. Too simple to comprehend anything else he dwelled upon this thought. Held it close. Thing's existed! They were a part of him. He existed outside of this dark room. And some creature was out there too. A sad little thing. Frodo tried to picture it again, but could not.