A/N: Apologies for goofy formatting. FF.n seems to hate me lately.
"Missed another close one, Colonel," Olsen said as Hogan came up the ladder.
"Gestapo again?" Hogan asked.
"Nope. Klink and Schultz."
"And Bergmann was staring at the barracks, too," Mills reported.
"Oh, boy," Hogan groaned.
As soon as everyone was upstairs, Hogan called all of the prisoners together. Gimli went to relieve Thomas, and the rest of the Fellowship congregated in front of the office door while the prisoners gathered around the table in front of the stove.
"Men, we've got a problem," Hogan began. "As you all know, Frodo's got a pretty bad head injury. He is also carrying something so top secret even I am not allowed to see it. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you what would happen if the Germans got hold of it."
The ten prisoners who had not been in the meeting in the tunnel looked at each other in shock.
"It is imperative that Frodo have a guard at all times while he recovers," Hogan continued. "He should be well enough to move to the tunnel tomorrow morning, but until then, one of us needs to be on hand in case the Krauts try to come after him."
As the prisoners worked out a schedule and dispatched Olsen to ask Baker to take the radio during Kinch's shift, the Fellowship members who were still in the main room silently filed into Hogan's office. Once the door was shut behind them, Boromir and Gimli quietly reported their experiences to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gandalf.
"Yes, I believe you did well," Gandalf nodded.
Aragorn knelt beside the bunk and gently felt Frodo's forehead. He could discern no fever, but Frodo unconsciously turned his head toward Aragorn, as if the Man's touch held some healing virtue or drove away some of the influence of the Ring.
Sam looked at Aragorn, clearly concerned.
"He does not worsen, but he heals slowly," Aragorn sighed. "I shall wake him briefly to see how he fares."
With that, he called to Frodo and shook the hobbit's shoulder slightly. Frodo took a deep breath and frowned; then, with a supreme effort, he opened his eyes. It took a second for his eyes to focus, but when they did, his face cleared.
"Hullo, Aragorn," Frodo said groggily. "Is anything the matter?"
"It was time for me to wake you," Aragorn replied. "How are you?"
"About the same. The headache has dulled some, but it's still there. Did something happen while I was asleep? My dreams were dark."
"We were nearly discovered twice," Gandalf answered. "By the ingenuity of our hosts, disaster was averted; but they are making plans to set a guard for you."
Frodo glanced at Sam, who was still sitting at the foot of the bed. "Did I ever..."
"No, sir," Sam answered before Frodo could finish his question. "I made sure of it."
Frodo smiled a little. "Thank you, Sam."
Pippin saw that the first aid kit was still on Hogan's desk, and he picked it up to hand to Aragorn. "Is it time to change the bandage, Strider?" he asked.
Aragorn looked at the bandage and saw that blood had reached the outer layer of the gauze pad covering the wound. "Yes, I believe so," he replied, accepting the kit from Pippin. "Thank you, Pippin."
"Do you need a washcloth, too?" Merry piped up.
"Yes, thank you, Merry."
Merry nodded and hurried out of the room.
Frodo hissed at the unfamiliar feeling of adhesive tape being pulled off his skin. Gandalf brought Aragorn the trashcan, and after briefly examining the dressing, Aragorn threw it away. The skin around the injury felt slightly inflamed when Aragorn touched it gently, but he could see no clear sign of infection; he also saw that the bleeding had not yet stopped, and he wondered if the aspirin were preventing the blood from clotting as it should. He said so.
"It is possible," Gandalf agreed. "It might also be causing his drowsiness. We should not give him any more. I am sorry, Frodo; we shall try to think of something else to help your headache."
"I don't think its effects have faded yet, anyway," Frodo replied.
Aragorn located the antibiotic cream and spread some on a fresh gauze pad, then gently placed the pad over Frodo's injury. Frodo winced slightly at the contact; the antibiotic cream burned a little in the open wound. Aragorn then carefully taped the pad just as Wilson, the medic, had done, and closed up the first aid kit.
Sam noticed Frodo's eyelids drooping. "Can you stay awake long enough to eat, Mr. Frodo?" he asked.
Frodo perked up slightly at the thought of food. "Yes, I think so. I ought to try, anyway; I feel very weak, and eating might help."
Merry and Pippin left to get food and to return the first aid kit to Hogan; they returned with LeBeau and Hogan in tow. While LeBeau and Sam helped Frodo eat some more soup, Hogan beckoned to Aragorn, and the two men stepped just outside the office door.
"How is he?" Hogan asked in a low voice.
"He does not improve," Aragorn sighed. "If this continues, I shall have to employ other measures to relieve his pain and speed the healing. We should let him sleep again after he eats; he is still very weak."
Hogan nodded in comprehension. "Do you think he'll be well enough tomorrow?"
"I believe so, but it remains to be seen. He will want to help, though, whether he is able or not."
Hogan looked back at the small figure on his bed. "Seems like a good-hearted fellow."
Aragorn smiled. "He is. Gandalf and Bilbo consider him the best hobbit in the Shire."
They were silent for a moment, watching the activity in the office. Then Hogan turned back to Aragorn and asked, "Would you and Gandalf mind coming down to the tunnel with Tiger and me? We need to finalize our plans so I can brief everyone this afternoon and we can get to work preparing everything we need for tomorrow night."
"It would be a pleasure to contribute," Aragorn replied. He caught Gandalf's eye and nodded toward Hogan.
Gandalf nodded his assent. "Aragorn and I will be downstairs if you need us," he announced.
"Bye, Gandalf," Frodo replied sleepily.
Gandalf smiled; Frodo had sounded exactly as he had many years ago as a young tween. The wizard then retrieved his staff from its resting place beside the closet and joined Aragorn and Hogan. These three were joined by Tiger and Kinch as they crossed the room to the tunnel entrance; Kinch went down first to man the radio, and the others filed down the ladder and followed Hogan to the map room.
As soon as Frodo fell asleep, everyone but Sam left the office. Saunders took the door while Beauchamp took his turn guarding Frodo, and the rest of the Fellowship and the prisoners settled in for two mercifully uneventful hours. Saunders reported that Schultz seemed to be keeping a close watch on the barracks, since he chased away several guards who were loitering within 100 yards of the hut and stopped several people from approaching without specific reasons for entering the barracks.
"Good ol' Schultz," Carter beamed.
"Schultz is a puzzle to me," Boromir frowned. "He is an enemy soldier, and yet he does not seem to hinder you."
"Schultz is only a problem when 'e decides to 'elp 'is own side," Newkirk twinkled.
"He was a toymaker before the war," Olsen explained. "He was... uh, conscripted, and his factory was confiscated by the Nazis to be used as a war plant. So his loyalties are kind of confused; he loves his country, but he's not sure he likes what the government is doing, and he's friends with us. So it's easier for him to hear nothing, see nothing, and say nothing. He doesn't actively help us much, but he doesn't usually stand in our way."
The visitors pondered this for a moment.
"I think the mission tomorrow night will be quite exciting, don't you, Pip?" said Merry nonchalantly, ostensibly changing the subject.
"Oh, aye," Pippin nodded.
The cousins looked at each other for a moment, and then Pippin looked back at his cards.
"Gin!" he crowed.
"Aber, Herr Feldwebel..." protested Pvt. Holtz, as Schultz escorted him past Barracks Two.
"No, Holtz. There is something strange going on in that hut; people are acting very peculiar when they get near it. The Kommandant has noticed it, too."
"So it is the Kommandant's orders that no one approach?"
Schultz looked a little embarrassed. "Well, no, he has not ordered it. But I think it is wise." He glanced back over his shoulder with a twinge of fear. "Whatever it is, it feels very bad."
Hogan emerged from the tunnel just as LeBeau finished cooking dinner. Merry and Pippin ate their meal quickly, then took servings to Beauchamp, Sam, and Frodo. Frodo had an easier time waking up than before, and his appetite had improved; but his headache was slowly getting worse again.
As soon as everyone finished eating, Hogan led his men, Tiger, and the Fellowship into his office. Beauchamp went back out into the main room and closed the door behind him, leaving the others to arrange themselves comfortably in the cramped space.
"All right," Hogan said, pulling down the map. "This is the route the train is going to follow. Here," he pointed to a spot on the track, "is where we'll stop the train. Gandalf will be here, setting off the fake attack." He moved his finger forward somewhat. "We'll pull the engineers and guards away from the front of the train and take them with us to inspect the train; we'll say we're searching for the Underground member who shot the SS man this morning. While we're searching the train, Carter will plant contact charges on the tracks here." Hogan pointed to a position slightly beyond where Gandalf was to be. "We'll be sure to mark the car with the musicians in it. As soon as we get far enough past, Boromir and LeBeau will take out any guard that is there and pull the musicians out. Gimli and the hobbits will wait in the woods with extra weapons and be on hand to give backup if necessary; Tiger and Newkirk will also wait just out of sight to meet our rescuees and get them back here."
"You said 'we' would inspect the train," Merry frowned. "Who's 'we'?"
"Aragorn, Legolas, and I," Hogan replied. "We'll be wearing Gestapo uniforms...."
Carter, looking embarrassed, interrupted. "Sir, if they're gonna be German officers, shouldn't they... y'know, get cleaned up first?"
Legolas smirked.
"I do apologize," Aragorn replied, looking sheepish. "We have been in the Wild for a fortnight and have added the grime of battle to the dust of travel, and there has been no opportunity to bathe."
Hogan rubbed the back of his neck, also uncomfortable. "I guess we will have to sneak you into the showers tonight, then. They're cold showers, but they do the job."
"Cold water is better than none," Legolas twinkled at Aragorn, who blushed.
The prisoners looked at each other and decided there must be some sort of inside joke between the scruffy Man and the pristine Elf.
"Could the rest of us get a bath, too?" Pippin asked. "I'm tired of feeling filthy."
"I think it can be arranged, but we can't take too long," Hogan agreed.
"I'm not sure I feel up to bathing," Frodo sighed, closing his eyes. This was partly true, but he was also reluctant to reveal either the Ring or the mithril mail that his shirt hid.
Sam hesitated, torn between the desire for a bath and the desire to stay with his master. The latter won out, and he shook his head. "I'll pass on that, too, Mr. Hogan."
"We could arrange a sponge-bath for him in the tunnel, mon colonel," LeBeau suggested.
Sam brightened. "What about that, Mr. Frodo?"
"Well..." Frodo replied, still reluctant.
"I think I would prefer a sponge-bath," Gandalf declared.
"As would I," Gimli agreed.
"I think you ought to bathe, Frodo, so I will see to your wound again," Aragorn said gently. "Pippin, please go and fetch my pack while I take off this dressing. LeBeau, I may need a bowl of plain hot water."
"Oui d'accord," LeBeau nodded. "I have been keeping some water hot in case it was needed."
Pippin dashed off without saying anything, and LeBeau followed him as far as the stove.
"I'll go get the first aid kit so you can have some fresh bandages," Carter offered.
"Thank you, Carter," Aragorn smiled. "Could you also bring me a washcloth?"
"Sure thing," Carter nodded as he walked out of the office.
Frodo winced as Aragorn applied the slight pressure needed to remove the adhesive tape around the gauze pad. The wound was still bleeding, though not as much as before. The skin around the injury still felt slightly inflamed to Aragorn's experienced touch, and the effects of the aspirin were wearing off.
Carter, LeBeau, and Pippin all returned just as Aragorn decided on his course of action.
"The wound is still healing more slowly than I had hoped," Aragorn told Frodo, "and the aspirin's virtue is fading. However, I do have one herb that will ease your pain and help you to heal more quickly. I had hoped you would not need it, but I deem now that you do."
"Athelas?" Merry and Sam guessed at the same time.
Boromir frowned. "The weed that some elders in Gondor use for headaches?"
Aragorn smiled as Pippin handed him his pack. "This is no mere weed, Boromir, and its virtue covers more than headaches. It has already helped to save Frodo once, and from a far more serious wound. But in this case, I think it shall serve well to cure a headache."
Aragorn drew one long, slightly dried leaf of athelas from his pouch of medicinal herbs and took the bowl of water from LeBeau. He then crushed the leaf and cast it into the bowl. At once the room filled with a clean, wholesome fragrance like roses in mid-summer. Everyone immediately felt refreshed and relaxed, and Frodo's headache diminished greatly.
Outside, Langenscheidt and Schultz walked past Barracks Two on their way back to night duty after a dismal meal at the mess hall. Between the bizarre events of the day and the storm system that was blowing in, both men felt exceptionally gloomy—until they walked past the end of the building that comprised Hogan's quarters. There they caught a whiff of something barely perceptible but wonderful. Schultz drew himself up out of an exhausted slouch, and Langenscheidt took a deep breath and let it out again, feeling braced and alert.
"Did you smell something?" Schultz asked as they walked on.
"I'm not sure," Langenscheidt confessed. "But I feel much better now."
Schultz nodded thoughtfully and smiled. It was definitely a nice change from the aura of evil that had seemed to surround the hut earlier in the day.
Aragorn soaked the washrag in the athelas infusion and bathed Frodo's injury with it. The bleeding stopped at once, and Aragorn could feel the inflammation subside.
"Thank you, Aragorn," Frodo sighed. "The pain is gone; I think I might be able to sit up without getting dizzy."
Sam ran around Aragorn to the head of the bed as Aragorn gingerly helped Frodo into a sitting position. Sam propped the thin pillow against the wall, and Frodo scooted back to lean against it. He sat still for a moment, then brightened.
"Yes, I do feel much better," Frodo grinned.
"Good news," Aragorn smiled back. "Do you think you want a sponge-bath, then?"
Frodo ran a hand through his greasy hair. "I suppose so. But I would prefer to do it myself," he added with a look at Sam.
"If you say so, sir," Sam returned.
Frodo smiled at him gratefully.
"Come, André," LeBeau beckoned. "We will set up a place for you to bathe in the tunnel, and we will let you know when it is ready."
"I'll even set up a screen for you, if we can't find a place that's already curtained off," Carter added helpfully.
"I thank you both," Frodo replied.
"Should we not all bathe in the tunnel?" Boromir frowned. "At least then we might have hot water."
"Showering will probably be faster and easier," Newkirk replied. "And it won't be as tricky to wash your 'air."
"Speaking of washing hair," Aragorn said to Frodo, "I shall wait to replace the bandage on your head until after your hair is washed. You should be careful not to get much shampoo into the wound, but I think you can probably manage it."
"Might be best if they washed their hair up here, Colonel," Kinch suggested. "It'll be a little easier over the sink, and we won't have to worry about mud in the tunnel as much."
"Great idea, Kinch," Hogan nodded.
"Col. Higgins?" Professor Tolkien called, opening the door to the office where he had been sequestered for the past several hours.
"Have you finished it?" Race asked eagerly, leaving his seat across the hall and coming to the door. Mush, who had been sitting next to the door, also stood.
"Well, yes... I actually finished it some time ago, but I have had to make a fair copy because of my handwriting and the emendations that were necessary." Tolkien handed the clean, legible copy to Race.
As Race handed the papers to Mush, Mush started to say something about speed being more important than legibility but thought better of it when he realized just how illegible professors' handwriting could be if they were in a hurry. Instead he stated, "I'll go notify Gen. Sullivan."
"Notify communications while you're at it," Race nodded.
"Right." Mush hurried away.
"We'll call Papa Bear as soon as possible so you can dictate the code to him," Race informed Tolkien. "Then I think we can let you go."
"Glad to hear it," Tolkien nodded, turning to go back into the office and collect his things. "I do have one question, though."
"Shoot," Race shrugged, following him into the office.
"You say this Papa Bear specifically asked for an Elvish code? Did he say why?"
Race shook his head. "If he gave a reason, it wasn't one that made any sense to us. Never figured him to be the type to read books like yours, either—meanin' no offense."
"None taken. It was, I'm afraid, intended more for children."
"Well, war is crazy," Race sighed.
"I can agree to that," Tolkien nodded.
And with that they started down the hall toward the office shared by Jack and David.
"All ready," LeBeau beamed, poking his head into the office.
"Let's all head down," Hogan suggested. "I have a feeling that code will be coming through pretty soon."
While everyone filed out of the office, Hogan took LeBeau aside and explained Kinch's suggestion and Aragorn's concern. LeBeau nodded his comprehension.
Once they got downstairs, Frodo and Sam took their packs from the radio room and followed Carter and LeBeau through the tunnel to a side room that was currently empty. Carter had thrown together a folding screen made from discarded rifle crates, and LeBeau had set a spirit lamp on a box and used one of Carter's beaker tripods to situate a pot of water over the spirit lamp to keep the water warm.
"Here," said Carter, handing Frodo a bar of soap, two rags, and a towel. "You can put soap on one rag and use the other to rinse off."
"Let us know when you have finished," LeBeau continued. "We can take you upstairs and help you wash your hair in the sink in a way that will not disturb your wound."
"Thank you both for your help," Frodo replied and ducked behind the screen.
Sam hung Frodo's clean clothes neatly over the top of the screen and pulled down the dirty ones as Frodo hung them.
"I can wash those for you tomorrow if you'd like," Carter offered.
"Thank you, Mr. Carter," Sam smiled.
Sam suddenly thought he heard the jingle of chain mail from inside the room, but since neither Carter nor LeBeau seemed to hear it, he dismissed it as a product of his imagination.
In the radio room, everyone else tried to find places to sit comfortably and wait for the code to come from London. Gandalf lit his pipe.
"While we're down here, we ought to start getting you two fitted for uniforms," Hogan told Aragorn and Legolas. "You can try them on after you shower."
"A wise suggestion," Aragorn agreed.
"What rank should they be?" Kinch asked.
Hogan looked at Aragorn and Legolas, who looked at each other.
"As a prince of Northern Mirkwood, I am counted among the captains of our realm," Legolas answered.
"And I am both Chieftain of the Dúnedain and Captain of the Rangers," Aragorn added.
Hogan thought for a moment, then nodded. "Captains, then. I'll be a major, so it won't look suspicious for me to do all the talking... although you two should learn a little German just in case, but we can take care of that tomorrow."
"Uniforms should be no problem, sir, even if I have to alter 'em," Newkirk remarked, estimating the sizes of Dúnadan and Elf. "It's the hair that could be tricky. Kraut officers keep their hair trimmed pretty close."
"I should prefer not to cut my hair so short," said Legolas, looking uncomfortable.
"As would I," Aragorn agreed.
"We can work that out later," Hogan stated. "We'll also need disguises for Boromir, Gimli, and Gandalf."
"Disguise?!" chorused Adan and Dwarf indignantly.
Gandalf blew a smoke ring and turned it green. "We are trying not to be seen at all, but if someone should catch a glimpse of us, it would be better to look more like a native," he explained. "As for me... well, I suppose I should wear black, though I am skilled at hiding myself."
"Mama Bear calling Papa Bear," suddenly crackled through the speaker before Gimli could protest again.
"Go ahead, Mama Bear," Kinch replied.
"Stand by for an urgent message from Beowulf."
"Roger, Mama Bear. Standing by."
"Beowulf?" Tiger frowned. "I have not heard that name before."
"It's probably the guy who's worked out our Elvish code," Hogan explained. "We're gonna need some help with spelling these words, though," he added, turning to his other guests.
Aragorn and Legolas looked at each other again.
"Your handwriting is better," Aragorn shrugged.
"I have had little experience taking dictation," Legolas countered.
Aragorn laughed. "You expect a Ranger to have more?"
Legolas chuckled. "Very well. I shall do my best."
"Why do you not ask Boromir?" Gimli frowned. "He is a Steward's son, after all."
"I know too little Sindarin," Boromir replied smugly.
Kinch handed Legolas a spare clipboard and pencil. "I'll see if I can get it phonetically, Legolas, and you get the spelling."
"Agreed."
"Papa Bear, this is Beowulf," said a male voice.
"Go ahead, Beowulf," Kinch replied.
"I have the urgent information you requested."
As Tolkien read the code and Kinch and Legolas hurriedly wrote it down, Hogan and Tiger marveled at the beauty of sound and cadence the Professor had achieved in creating his language. Hogan thought it reminded him somewhat of Welsh.
About halfway through the transmission, Carter came through silently with Frodo and Sam. When Carter signaled to Gandalf, the wizard nodded and knocked the ashes out of his pipe into the ashtray on the radio table, and he and Gimli went to bathe. The hobbits, meanwhile, followed Carter up the ladder into the hut, and Aragorn followed them to see to Frodo's wound after the others helped him wash his hair.
"That everything?" Kinch finally asked when it sounded like Tolkien had reached the end of his list.
"It is indeed, Papa Bear," Tolkien replied.
"Thanks a million, Beowulf. You've been a big help. Over and out."
Kinch and Legolas handed Hogan their clipboards at the same time. Hogan looked from one list to the other several times, then laughed and turned them around for everyone else to see:
Kinch's list was in shorthand. Legolas' was in Tengwar.
"Thanks, Professor," Spot grinned, taking the clipboard from Tolkien and handing it to a stenographer so that she could type and file the new code.
"We really appreciate it, Professor," echoed David, shaking Tolkien's hand.
"And we're sorry for the confusion and the inconvenience," added Jack.
"My pleasure, sirs," Tolkien replied. "Glad to have been of service. And I shall be praying for Papa Bear tomorrow."
"Thanks, Professor," Jack smiled. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."
Spot showed Tolkien out of the communications room and found Les to drive him back to Oxford.
After dark, six figures slipped silently through the compound, dodging lights from the towers until they reached the prisoners' showers. LeBeau carried a bag full of towels, two bars of soap, and two bottles of shampoo; Boromir brought a bag with a clean change of clothes for each member of the Fellowship. They had left their weapons in the tunnel.
"Turn this knob to the left to get the water," LeBeau explained in a whisper, pointing out the important features under one shower head. "The water comes out up here; it's like washing under a waterfall. You turn the knob back to the right to turn it off. This bottle has shampoo for washing your hair. This bar of soap is probably softer than what you're used to; you can rub it between your hands to get a good lather, or you can rub it directly on your body."
"Many thanks, LeBeau," Aragorn smiled, accepting soap and shampoo.
LeBeau set his bag on a bench. "I'm sorry there's not much privacy. The Boche seem to think we don't need it."
"We'll survive," Pippin replied bravely.
LeBeau nodded and ducked outside to watch for guards. He could hear the clink of chain mail as the Men disrobed and brief gasps of shock as each one stood under the cold water. Merry and Pippin came out first, towels still draped over their hair and teeth chattering. It took longer for the other three guests to finish dressing and slip back outside, but when Legolas finally emerged and checked that the door was locked, LeBeau checked his watch and saw that only fifteen minutes had passed.
"Well," whispered Merry gamely, "that was different."
Pippin started humming Bilbo's bath song.
LeBeau couldn't help smiling. "Let's get out of here before the guard comes back, and I'll fix you a nice hot cup of coffee when we get back to the barracks."
The cousins looked at each other.
"D'ye have any tea instead?" Pippin asked hopefully.
Newkirk had just finished checking over Hogan's Gestapo disguise when the others returned from the showers. The hobbits had stayed upstairs with LeBeau to warm themselves with hot tea and a seat by the stove, but Boromir wrapped himself in his fur-lined cloak and brought his mug of soup downstairs to the uniform room. He sipped the steaming liquid while Newkirk explained the parts of the Gestapo uniform to Aragorn and Legolas.
"Was it that cold?" Gimli asked Boromir in a low voice.
"It was not icy," Boromir replied. "But it was cold enough."
"We have been discussing our clothing," Gandalf stated, coming to join Man and Dwarf. "You and I will wear black tunics and trousers, and black caps to cover our hair. I know not if we will be able to carry our weapons or conceal mail under our outfits. I believe we are also to begrime our faces so that the oil does not catch the light."
Boromir nodded. "If that is what is necessary for stealth, then I will comply. And Gimli?"
"Well, the hobbits are wearing their usual clothing..." Gimli began.
Boromir muttered something about the stubbornness of Dwarves.
Carter came around the corner then with two piles of black clothing. "I hope these'll fit," he said, handing one stack to Boromir and one to Gandalf. "You guys are a lot bigger than most of us, but Hoolihan left two sets when he was transferred out."
"Thank you, Carter," Gandalf smiled. "We will try them on as soon as possible."
Just then, Aragorn emerged from the makeshift dressing room, trying to figure out how to tie his tie. Boromir's jaw dropped. Even for one who had never been terrorized by the Gestapo, the uniform conveyed an impression of arrogance and cruelty; and for a moment, Boromir thought he caught a glimpse of what Aragorn would have been like as Ring-lord.
Gimli's eyes were wide, and he murmured something in Khuzdul.
"Good enough to shoot," Kinch stated approvingly.
"Thank the Valar you chose your path well, Aragorn," Gandalf said as he shook his head slowly.
Newkirk helped Aragorn with the tie, then steered him to a full-length mirror pieced together from smaller mirrors filched from the camp storeroom. Aragorn looked at himself and sighed.
"It is perfect," he stated. "I hate it."
"Despicable," Legolas agreed, stepping out of the dressing room and frowning at his tie.
After a stunned silence in which everyone stared at the Elf, Aragorn said calmly, "You know, Legolas, if I did not know better, I would think you belonged to the House of Fëanor."
"Thank you, Ar-Pharazôn," Legolas shot back before Newkirk came over to show him how to put on the tie.
Unsure whether or not the two were just teasing each other, Hogan interrupted. "You might need to shave, Aragorn."
Aragorn rubbed his scruffy chin. "That might not be a bad idea."
"That leaves hair," Kinch sighed.
"Can we pin it somehow?" Carter suggested.
"It's a thought," Hogan nodded. "Tiger, what do you think?"
Tiger rummaged in the make-up kit that sat on Newkirk's sewing table and found a comb and a small hair elastic. Combing through Aragorn's still-damp hair, she quickly and deftly pulled it into a small ponytail a few inches above the nape of his neck. She then secured the hair to the top of his head with two hairpins and placed his hat on his head. Stepping back to observe her handiwork, she nodded approvingly.
"Yes, it will work," Tiger said. "So long as no one looks at the back of his head; and since it will be dark, it will be even harder to tell that the hair is pulled up and not a buzz cut."
"What'll we do about Legolas, though?" Kinch frowned. "His hair's a lot longer; it won't be as easy to hide it."
Legolas looked at his hat thoughtfully for a moment, then took the comb from Tiger and stepped over to the make-up mirror. Within minutes, he had plaited his hair into two braids, wound them around his head, and pinned them in place, flat enough and far enough from the crown of his head that they would not show through the hat. Sure enough, when he tried the hat on, the braids were perfectly hidden.
"Trust it to a prissy Elf," Gimli grumbled teasingly.
As the others congratulated themselves on the brainstorm, Hogan suddenly discovered another problem. "Uh-oh. What do we do about your ears, Legolas?"
Everyone looked at Legolas again. With his hair pulled up and the hat on, his pointed ears were even more prominent.
Legolas sighed. "I do not know. I have never before attempted to disguise myself as a mortal."
"As if anyone could mistake an Elf for a mortal," Tiger said under her breath.
Aragorn suddenly snickered. Legolas looked at him sharply.
"Goheno nin," Aragorn said, shaking his head. "I was just thinking of what Glorfindel would say if he could see you now. Or Elladan and Elrohir, for that matter. They would never let you live it down."
Legolas' eyes narrowed dangerously, but they still twinkled with mirth, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"I have a feeling," said Kinch, "that people are probably going to be paying more attention to the uniform than to Legolas' ears."
"Why don't you say he's a Supermensch?" Carter laughed.
"It's a thought," Hogan nodded.
"What is a Supermensch?" Legolas frowned.
"It's German for 'superman,'" Hogan explained. "Since they think they're the master race, they believe they've evolved beyond the rest of us mere mortals. We might be able to convince them that you're the next step in evolution."
"What do you mean by evolution?" Boromir asked, confused. "Do they not believe that the One created Men?"
Hogan and his men looked uncomfortably at each other for a moment.
"Well, no," Carter said slowly. "They believe that science proves that men evolved from monkeys. Uh, by evolved, I mean that genetic changes accumulated over time to change one type of creature into another."
"People who seek such an explanation for their origins must want to distance themselves from their Creator so that they can pursue evil without fear of retribution," Gandalf stated, shaking his head sadly. "It is a lie of Morgoth."
"That's one of the reasons they're trying to wipe out everyone who's not Aryan," Kinch nodded. "If there's no Creator, there are no consequences for murder, and all that matters is ensuring the purity of the master race."
"Nothdagnirrim," snarled Legolas.
"And we must disguise ourselves as the worst of them," Aragorn sighed, turning back to the mirror. "I wonder if Beren felt such disgust when he disguised himself as an orc or as Draugluin."
"I would not doubt it," Legolas agreed, placing a sympathetic hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "I will be glad when this is over."
"You can change out of these now, mates," Newkirk said gently. "No reason to keep them on all day."
Legolas and Aragorn turned and gave him identical grateful smiles.
"Once you've changed, we need for Gandalf and Boromir to try on their disguises," Hogan declared. "Then we should all try to get some sleep."
Everyone agreed, and Carter and Tiger headed off to find bedding for the ten guests while Aragorn and Legolas changed clothes. They returned just as Gandalf came out of the dressing room. No one could quite find the words to describe how the wizard looked in a black turtleneck and black jeans, with a black stocking cap pulled down over his grey hair. The outfit looked much more natural on Boromir.
"Frodo should still sleep upstairs, and I suspect Sam will want to stay with him," Aragorn told Hogan. "The athelas has done much to help Frodo, but bathing tired him, and I would prefer for him to rest above ground tonight."
Hogan nodded. "If LeBeau doesn't mind sleeping down here, I can take his bunk. That way, if Schultz comes in during the night, I can say I traded bunks with him."
Hogan and Aragorn went upstairs to collect Merry and Pippin, and Hogan gave LeBeau his proposal. LeBeau agreed enthusiastically.
Aragorn went to the office to check on Frodo, and Mills met him at the door. "He's already asleep," Mills reported. "Plumb tuckered out, he was. Sam sat up with him for a while, but he was pretty beat, too, so I put him on the top bunk, and he's dozing."
"Good," Aragorn smiled. "May they sleep peacefully through the night."
Baker climbed down the ladder in Barracks Three and found his way to the radio room, carefully maneuvering around the sleeping forms on the floor. "Your watch, Kinch," he said when he arrived. "I'll mind the store for you."
"Thanks, Baker," Kinch smiled at the younger radio man. "May we both have an uneventful night."
"Amen," Baker twinkled.
Kinch handed over the headphones and climbed up the ladder into Barracks Two. He quietly made his way through the main room and eased into Hogan's quarters.
"Hi, Kinch," Walters whispered. "All quiet so far."
"Okay. Thanks, Walters."
Kinch stood out of the way and let Walters slip silently out of the room before taking his position on the footlocker. He checked to make sure that his pistol was handy in case he needed it, then leaned back against the wall and fixed his eyes on the door. As minutes slipped into hours, he found himself wishing for some coffee to help him stay awake.
Frodo suddenly began whimpering. Before Sam could wake up enough to react, Kinch leaned over and lightly laid a hand on Frodo's head. He wished heartily for a rocking chair, but since there was none, he began gently smoothing Frodo's hair back from his forehead and softly singing in a rich baritone:
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
A long way from home,
A long way from home.
Sometimes I feel like I'm almost gone,
Sometimes I feel like I'm almost gone,
Sometimes I feel like I'm almost gone,
A long way from home,
A long way from home.
Frodo stirred and blinked sleepily. "Hullo, Kinch," he said groggily.
"Hello, Frodo. I didn't mean to wake you."
"No, no, 's no problem. 'S a pretty song you were singing."
"But very sad, too," Sam added from above.
Kinch smiled wryly. "Not quite sure why that was the one that came to mind. It isn't the most appropriate song for a lullaby."
"I know what it means, though," Frodo sighed. "I feel that way, too. Of course, I've been a motherless child for a long time now."
"So have I. My mom died while I was still in high school."
"Mr. Frodo's parents drownded when he was just a teen," Sam said sadly.
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, Frodo," Kinch sighed.
"Thank you, but there's no need to be sorry. That was a long time ago. And I had Bilbo while I was a tween, so I was brought up well."
Deciding to change the subject, Sam asked, "Where did you learn that song, Mr. Kinch?"
Kinch smiled. "My mom taught me. It's an old, old song our ancestors used to sing."
"What made them so sad?"
Kinch's smile turned slightly sad. "Well, a long time ago, my ancestors lived in Africa. I'll show you where it is on a map in the morning. Anyway, some people in Europe, which is where we are now, and America, which is across the ocean, thought that since my people have black skin, we weren't really human, and since we were strong and skilled, we ought to be used as slaves. So they took my ancestors, and a lot of other men and women, from Africa to wherever people wanted land worked and sold the Africans as slaves; most of the time, the slaves they took were sold to them by invaders from the East. Now, people sing a lot in Africa, so the slaves took that tradition with them; but since their life was so hard, they sang songs like that one. Not all the songs were sad, though; they sang a lot about God and Heaven and the stories they learned about Jesus."
"That's awful, that people would treat other people like animals," Sam sighed.
"In our world, the Dark Lord and his followers are the only people who keep slaves," Frodo added. "The Free Peoples would never consent to such evil."
"Not everyone in America was happy about it, either," Kinch replied. "They ended up fighting a war over slavery, among other things. The side that wanted to end slavery won, and now there's a law that expressly forbids slavery and another one that says that citizenship doesn't depend on a person's skin color. Technically, we're supposed to be treated just like everyone else. There are still people who treat us like second-class citizens, though, but I'm hopeful that that'll all change soon."
Both Sam and Frodo blinked as the last statement sailed over their heads.
Kinch chuckled a little. "Never mind. Things are getting better."
Frodo sighed and blinked sleepily. "Just hope I don't fail... don't want that happening to anyone in Middle-earth."
Kinch smiled warmly at him. "You'll do fine, Frodo. I have faith in you."
Frodo smiled and closed his eyes again. "Sometime I'd like to hear one of those happier songs... and maybe you could explain it to me... 'd like to hear who Jesus is and why those songs make people happy...."
"Maybe; we could talk more after tomorrow night, if there's time before you have to leave."
Frodo nodded a little.
Kinch thought for a moment and began to sing:
To make the wounded whole;
There is a Balm in Gilead
To soothe the sin-sick soul.
Sometimes I feel discouraged
And think my work's in vain,
But then the Holy Spirit
Revives my soul again.
If you can't preach like Peter,
If you can't pray like Paul,
Just tell the love of Jesus
And say He died for all.
There is a Balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole;
There is a Balm in Gilead
To soothe the sin-sick soul.
It didn't take long for Frodo's eyes to close, and by the end of the song, he was sound asleep, secure in the big man's presence and lulled by his soulful voice.
"Mr. Kinch?" Sam whispered, sounding barely awake himself.
"Yes, Sam?"
"I can't name you an Elf-friend, and I know this may not mean as much, but I'm glad to call you a Hobbit-friend."
Kinch's smile showed in his voice when he replied, "Thank you, Sam. That does mean a lot."
Kinch heard Sam shift slightly, and soon his breathing was as deep and regular as his master's. Kinch gently brushed a curl back from Frodo's forehead, stood up, and stretched the kink out of his back. Humming "Deep River," he scooted Sam away from the edge of the top bunk; then, satisfied that the hobbits were safe, he sat back down on the footlocker and leaned against the wall, prepared for the rest of his vigil.
A/N: A longish update and some longish notes this time! (This puppy is practically a novel by now....)
- One reason this is so long is that, after reading "Don't Panic!" and "Okay, NOW Panic!" by boz4PM, I've become more aware of the culture-shock issues that need to be addressed in some detail. Thus everything from hygiene to food becomes a potential issue for confusion.
- Mum's The Word was a huge help in getting me unstuck from the Tar Baby called writer's block. I also want to thank the PPCers who helped me with questions about coffee, ears, and facial hair; the info and speculations they provided were invaluable.
- I'm finally getting a chance to flesh out some characters that are only names on the show. Bergmann, for example, is never seen; he's usually on the other end of the telephone receiving orders from Klink, and the most we know about him is that he likes to eat (from "A Russian is Coming": "No, Lt. Bergmann, I do not want to hear about lunch, nor dinner, either!"). Sgt. Richter is referred to in "Praise the Führer and Pass the Ammunition" as "Ol' Ironsides," so apparently he is far more the tough, evil, dedicated Nazi type than like Schultz and Langenscheidt. And most of the other men in Barracks Two are given names only during mail calls and bed checks. The only character who isn't named in the show is Marcus Simms, who still belongs to marylinusca.
While I'm on that subject, and for the sake of reference, here are the prisoners I've assigned to Barracks Two, and the sources for the names that aren't obvious or previously credited:
Hogan
Carter
Newkirk
LeBeau
Kinchloe
Olsen
Marcus Simms
Thomas ("War Takes a
Holiday")
Beauchamp ("Request
Permission to Escape")
Hammond ("How to Catch a Papa
Bear")
O'Brien ("How to Catch a Papa
Bear")
Mills ("How to Catch a Papa
Bear" and "Never Play Cards with Strangers")
Walters ("The Top Secret Top
Coat")
Saunders ("Drums Along the
Dusseldorf")
Potowsky (I'm 90% sure I
heard that name in "Tanks for the Memory" or "Col. Klink's Secret Weapon," and
there is a random Pole in the background most of the time)
- For the non-HH fans, Thomas was played by William Christopher, better known to MASH fans as Father Mulcahy. Hence the joke. (Hoolihan, however, is not "Howitzer Al" Hoolihan, but "good old Hoolihan" from one of the HH eps—I can't remember which one right now.)
- According to the Guidebook on Oregon Trail II, pioneers used to take pickles with them on the trail to prevent scurvy when they couldn't get fresh fruit. Why pickles, I'm not sure, but there it is.
- Aspirin is an anti-coagulant, but I don't know if that was known even sixty years ago. And it could be that everyone was so concerned about Frodo's headache that they forgot that aspirin might affect the wound. Drowsiness is also one of aspirin's less serious potential side effects, and WebMD recommends contacting a doctor if it causes that effect. I suspect it would take longer for the aspirin to wear off in a hobbit than for most humans because hobbits would not have built up any sort of tolerance to it and because they are so much smaller than humans.
- For the non-LOTR fans:
- Whatever you might think about macroevolution (reptiles becoming birds, for example) in the Primary World, Tolkien states clearly that in his Secondary World, Elves and Men were specially created by Eru (God). And Darwinism did give the Nazis an excuse to practice genocide; if the Jews were genetically inferior, the thinking went, they should be eliminated from the gene pool. There's a good explanation of this on the Answers in Genesis website [FF.n keeps eating the URL, so I'll post it in my profile].- There's a long-standing joke about Aragorn and baths based on Movie!Aragorn's perpetually scruffy appearance and greasy hair. Legolas, being an Elf, never seems to even break a sweat. There are plenty of good Aragorn-gets-a-bath fics in the LOTR section, so I'll let you search for them.
- Mithril, or true-silver, is an extremely rare precious metal in Middle-earth. It is lighter-weight than silver but harder and stronger than steel, and it is prized both for jewelry and for chain mail. In the movie, Bilbo describes the mail shirt he gives Frodo as being "light as a feather, but hard as dragon-scales."
- Athelas, or kingsfoil, is a healing herb brought to Middle-earth by the Men of Númenor, who received it from the Elves of the Blessed Realm. Its virtues range from pain relief to the easing of effects suffered when fighting evil; its fragrance is pungent, and it refreshes all who smell it. The really interesting thing is that, apparently, its scent changes depending on the character of the person for whom it is bruised.
- Tengwar is one of the two systems of runic writing used in Middle-earth during the Third Age, and it's the one the Elves used most often. I have a couple of samples on my website.
- Fëanor, his family, and their retainers were the first Elves to ever kill their own kind. They also swore a terrible oath that ended up driving them to commit unthinkable atrocities. Ar-Pharazôn was the last king of Númenor and was evil enough on his own, but he made the mistake of capturing Sauron and allowing him to become a chief councilor; Sauron managed to persuade him to invade Valinor, home of the Valar (the angelic spirits who rule Arda on behalf of Eru, the One, and sometimes erroneously called gods).
- Beren, Aragorn's ancestor, had to rescue a treasure from Morgoth, the original Dark Lord, in order to marry Lúthien, the Elven woman he loved. While on his quest, Beren had to disguise himself once as an Orc and once as Draugluin, the greatest of Wargs.
- Mum's The Word has helped me work out an actual Sindarin code based on the one used by the Navajo Code-talkers. I'll post it on my website when I get the chance.
- I haven't had the chance to hear Ivan Dixon sing solo much, but if the snippets I've heard on the show are any indication, he has a fine voice. And I love to hear (and sing) the old spirituals; they're the kind of song you really can put your whole heart and soul into. The parts of Kinch's backstory that are mentioned are based on the stories of marylinusca.
Goheno nin = Forgive me
Nothdagnirrim = Kinslayers [I think—I've cobbled it together from noss (kindred), dagnir (slayer), and rim (host, people), but I'd be glad for a Sindarin expert to correct me.]
