Disclaimer: AU Story. Based on Shirebound's wonderful drabble, "Grace";
much thanks for her permission. The characters and settings continue to
belong to Tolkien. But the plot is mine and I very much hope that you enjoy
it. ^^
Shirebound: I'm really pleased you're enjoying this. I'm so flattered you mentioned my description after seeing how breathtaking your own is. Hope you're happy to see this update too!
Bookworm 2000: Yes, well spotted! Frodo's injuries were inspired by ROTK. How many times have you seen it now? I've only managed three... Gosh, I adore your tribute to Sam's pan. *Sam reads poem, blushes and smiles*
FrodoBaggins87: Yay! Another Frodo and Sam fan! How glorious! Thank you very much for your comments. What you said about Frodo's dreams; I promise there will be more to them than just memories of the Ring and if you're not familiar with my other pieces of work, don't fret, I will angstify Frodo good 'n' proper ^^
MagicalRachel: *hides* I'm sorry, I just...I can't _help_ myself! Frodo's too pretty not to suffer a bit now and then. Glad you enjoyed the Sam/pan scene; I thought he deserved a little recompense after Mordor. I am muchly looking forward to your updates. Any new ideas? Btw, just so you know, this chapter was written up in your beautiful notebook!
Tavion: Well done! You spotted my ROTK inspired parts. You cried too? Heh, it was heartbreaking, wasn't it? Thanks a lot for your comments!
Aemilia Rose: *Frodo nestles happily into Aemilia's hug* Hehe, your Frodo comfort is much appreciated! Yes, ROTK will never fail to be an inspiration.
Happy New Year! May your 2004 be blessed and I hope a certain hobbit/elf/man/dwarf shows up to wish you well.
~ Chapter Ten ~
Frodo stared in consternation at the cup being proffered to him.
"A sedative?" he repeated nervously. Aragorn nodded,
"And some athelas, for good measure."
"Of course," came the humourless reply. "But Aragorn, it is not trouble with sleeping. I could lay down and sleep at this very moment. It is...it's what I'll find in sleep. No athelas can reach there."
"Frodo..."
Aragorn turned his imploring gaze on Sam, who he could always trust on such matters concerning the Ringbearer. Unfortunately, this time, it was not to be.
"I agree with Mister Frodo," he said hesitantly upon meeting the king's eyes, "I'm sorry and that but sleep isn't the trouble here."
Aragorn sighed and lowered to cup to both hands. He let the contents pour onto the grass where it pooled and rippled in the verdant carpet. "So much for that idea," he exhaled. The hobbits, still gathered on Frodo's bed, looked awkwardly at one another. They looked half-expectantly at the man's back. At last, Aragorn got to his feet and rounded on his four friends. There was a slightly over-cheerful tone to his voice that made Frodo's heart flinch.
"Well, I suppose we shall have to find a remedy that might end dreams and not interfere with sleep then."
He smiled wanly at Frodo; his expression speaking words no lips dare utter, hiding a fervent curiosity with an unreadable mask as he strode from the tent. There was a quivering silence for a moment. Then Pippin whispered, with half-hearted joviality,
"Isn't it odd what sorts of bizarre things happen outside the Shire then?"
There was a soft passage of laughter that swept between them. Merry picked up on his cousin's attempt, saying,
"What with walking trees, elves and giant spiders, I'm surprised that this isn't all one big ridiculous dream."
"Imagine what my Gaffer'd say if I ever told him I'd walk right across Middle-Earth. He's got too much hobbit sense in him to approve of such things," Sam laughed.
"But Rosie might approve," Frodo offered quietly, bringing colour to the gardener's ears at the mere mention of his long missed Rose.
"Come with me," his master went on, with a smile, "I want to show the three of you something."
--
Frodo led them through the encampment, hardly aware of the fact his friends had gathered protectively about him. They walked along one of his many paths into a thick overgrown mesh of plantlife near the pool that yet flashed silver into their eyes. They slipped down a flowered embankment to find a stretch of beautiful crystal-like water. Lilies and fallen leaves drifted on the surface, like tiny dancers on cerulean glass.
"This is the Nen Dîn," Frodo murmured in revered tones, "The silent water. It is where Gandalf brought you and I, Sam, while we slept. This is the first place he brought me when I had woken. And he asked me who I would speak to if I could...if I could send a message to one far away. He told me then that if I put my face close to the water and gave it my message and blessing then it would reach them."
"How?" breathed Merry, staring deep into the mirror frame lodged amid the heather.
"By whatever means Gandalf does everything; via riddles and with a little help from eagle."
Caught in the splendour of Nen Dîn, Merry and Pippin bent to the water and sat in silent conversation for a great time. Frodo put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I really don't know if it's true, Sam," he said, grinning, "But there's honestly no harm."
"Oh, it ain't that," Sam answered with a blush, "It's just I was wondering who I should speak to. I'd dearly love to tell my Gaffer where I am and all but it's just your mentioning of Rosie...I can't make up my mind."
"Sam, I am quite certain that these waters will gladly allow you more than one message. After all, it knows you from when healers bore you here. You are free to speak to both your father and Rosie."
They smiled at each other then together knelt by the pool and joined their companions in the exchange of soundless words. Then, one by one, with infinite solemnity, the hobbits rose again. Pippin had tears in his eyes as he thought wistfully of his mother siting in the warm familiar space of home...so very far away... Merry put an arm round him and drew his away.
Frodo finished next and took advantage of his moment absent of watchful eyes to look upon his left hand. It was trembling fitfully. He had gone to such pains to hide it; to save himself from curious questions that might open up aching wounds and expose himself fully to those he loved. He could not afford to do that.
"Master?"
He started, habitually covering up his hand at his friend's voice. "Oh, I am sorry. What did you say?"
Sam looked anxiously at Frodo's face, which had hurriedly disassembled the emotions there at his call.
"Why don't you head back now?" he said gently, "I'll follow on in a moment."
"Alright. And don't worry about me, take your time here."
Clearly understanding the hypnotic effect Nen Dîn had had on Sam, Frodo withdrew after his cousins, back to the world of time and haste. Samwise lingered still. There was one last message that he longed to be heard. Perhaps, he wondered, this enchanted place could allow his words to be heard.
"Please Frodo," he murmured, his breath sending the water into tempered undulations, "Tell me what you saw in that dream. Let me help you again. Please let me in."
Then he drew back on shaking legs and looked across the expanse of reflected light. He made a despairing wish to the Lady Galadriel, unaware that Frodo watched him from behind, his fathomless eyes filling with tears.
--
Merry and Pippin were sitting delightedly on one of the huge benches that were normally reserved for soldiers. Feeling thoroughly refreshed after their visit to Nen Dîn, they had persuaded Aragorn to let them eat with the rest of the army, so that they had an opportunity to pick up on the latest tales from Minas Tirith and Edoras. They sat there, swinging their legs elatedly and chattering nine to the dozen, leaping up and waving when Sam came in through the tent opening. The friendly men lifted the flustered hobbit up to join his companions where he sat awkwardly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
"So, tell us," Merry demanded of the guards opposite, using one finger to jab accusingly at the breastplates and the other to grip his newly delivered tankard, "What of the Lady Éowyn? Has she fully recovered now? Faramir is being terribly quiet about it."
"Well, I'm afraid we shall be quiet also," replied the nearest soldier, "For we know little of her welfare, only that she is out of harm's way and often seen in the gardens of the city. She is no less fair and no less stubborn in her will."
"Good for her! I hope to see her very soon when we return to Minas Tirith."
"You're leaving?"
"Soon, or so Aragorn keeps telling us. As soon as he thinks Frodo is strong enough."
"The Ringbearer is strong. The way he's been up and down Ithilien, I'm surprised he hasn't walked back to the city..."
Sam listened to this without worry and with good intents. But he kept hearing his friend's scream in the darkness, tearing through the canopy of night, ripping into his soul. He winced at the memory and hoped all the more ardently that his wishes would be answered. Perhaps then he could let Frodo go back to being what he once was; that kind-hearted, courteous and moreover whole Baggins. Once, Sam thought had truly understood him. Now he was fading... getting further away... beyond even Sam's reach.
Now it came to it, where was Frodo? He had left the pool before him and yet he had not seen him on the way to the tent nor did he seem to be here now. At once, he was taut with nerves and the back of his neck prickled. He touched Pippin lightly on the arm. "Peregrin," he ventured, hardly aware of the name he had used, "Has Mister Frodo come in yet? Have you seen him at all since he took us to that water?"
The wide green eyes went even wider. Pippin shook his head.
"No, I haven't, now you mention it. I wonder where he's got to."
"But he set off before me!" Sam cried in growing anxiety. He jumped down from the bench, ducking under the table with a few muttered apologies and excuses then ran out of the tent. Pippin downed his drink and followed not a few seconds after. Merry was too absorbed in tales and just a bit too far- gone to take heed of this.
Outside, Pippin followed Sam back to their beds, which were as empty as when they left them that morning. But neither of them were willing to be put off. They went to all the pavilions of their friends and asked with increasing alarm if any of them had seen Frodo. As a final resort, they skidded down the bank of the Nen Dîn and searched the undergrowth there. There was no sign. Back, forth, through again, clambering back the camp, in and out, round and around. Sam came to a halt at last, unable to go on with this mad chase any longer. He could feel it deeper within him. Something instinctive was telling him that they were not looking in the right places.
"Why would he just run off like this?" he exclaimed in frustration.
"Did he say anything to you, Sam?" Pippin appealed desperately, "Did he tell you anything at the pool?"
"Well, no... but I saw something... like something in his eyes that I haven't seen there in a good long while and all the better for it. Just for a moment, I thought I saw it again. But then he was back to himself and I didn't think twice of it. Oh, but why would that drive him away?"
"Perhaps we're overreacting," was the uncertain reply, "He might simply have needed some time alone. Most likely, he'll come striding back down that hill, all airs and graces, and tell us how silly we are for worrying."
Sam's expression told Pippin exactly what he thought of the idea. Pippin swallowed and nodded.
"Let's go and tell Aragorn," he said in a small voice.
Shirebound: I'm really pleased you're enjoying this. I'm so flattered you mentioned my description after seeing how breathtaking your own is. Hope you're happy to see this update too!
Bookworm 2000: Yes, well spotted! Frodo's injuries were inspired by ROTK. How many times have you seen it now? I've only managed three... Gosh, I adore your tribute to Sam's pan. *Sam reads poem, blushes and smiles*
FrodoBaggins87: Yay! Another Frodo and Sam fan! How glorious! Thank you very much for your comments. What you said about Frodo's dreams; I promise there will be more to them than just memories of the Ring and if you're not familiar with my other pieces of work, don't fret, I will angstify Frodo good 'n' proper ^^
MagicalRachel: *hides* I'm sorry, I just...I can't _help_ myself! Frodo's too pretty not to suffer a bit now and then. Glad you enjoyed the Sam/pan scene; I thought he deserved a little recompense after Mordor. I am muchly looking forward to your updates. Any new ideas? Btw, just so you know, this chapter was written up in your beautiful notebook!
Tavion: Well done! You spotted my ROTK inspired parts. You cried too? Heh, it was heartbreaking, wasn't it? Thanks a lot for your comments!
Aemilia Rose: *Frodo nestles happily into Aemilia's hug* Hehe, your Frodo comfort is much appreciated! Yes, ROTK will never fail to be an inspiration.
Happy New Year! May your 2004 be blessed and I hope a certain hobbit/elf/man/dwarf shows up to wish you well.
~ Chapter Ten ~
Frodo stared in consternation at the cup being proffered to him.
"A sedative?" he repeated nervously. Aragorn nodded,
"And some athelas, for good measure."
"Of course," came the humourless reply. "But Aragorn, it is not trouble with sleeping. I could lay down and sleep at this very moment. It is...it's what I'll find in sleep. No athelas can reach there."
"Frodo..."
Aragorn turned his imploring gaze on Sam, who he could always trust on such matters concerning the Ringbearer. Unfortunately, this time, it was not to be.
"I agree with Mister Frodo," he said hesitantly upon meeting the king's eyes, "I'm sorry and that but sleep isn't the trouble here."
Aragorn sighed and lowered to cup to both hands. He let the contents pour onto the grass where it pooled and rippled in the verdant carpet. "So much for that idea," he exhaled. The hobbits, still gathered on Frodo's bed, looked awkwardly at one another. They looked half-expectantly at the man's back. At last, Aragorn got to his feet and rounded on his four friends. There was a slightly over-cheerful tone to his voice that made Frodo's heart flinch.
"Well, I suppose we shall have to find a remedy that might end dreams and not interfere with sleep then."
He smiled wanly at Frodo; his expression speaking words no lips dare utter, hiding a fervent curiosity with an unreadable mask as he strode from the tent. There was a quivering silence for a moment. Then Pippin whispered, with half-hearted joviality,
"Isn't it odd what sorts of bizarre things happen outside the Shire then?"
There was a soft passage of laughter that swept between them. Merry picked up on his cousin's attempt, saying,
"What with walking trees, elves and giant spiders, I'm surprised that this isn't all one big ridiculous dream."
"Imagine what my Gaffer'd say if I ever told him I'd walk right across Middle-Earth. He's got too much hobbit sense in him to approve of such things," Sam laughed.
"But Rosie might approve," Frodo offered quietly, bringing colour to the gardener's ears at the mere mention of his long missed Rose.
"Come with me," his master went on, with a smile, "I want to show the three of you something."
--
Frodo led them through the encampment, hardly aware of the fact his friends had gathered protectively about him. They walked along one of his many paths into a thick overgrown mesh of plantlife near the pool that yet flashed silver into their eyes. They slipped down a flowered embankment to find a stretch of beautiful crystal-like water. Lilies and fallen leaves drifted on the surface, like tiny dancers on cerulean glass.
"This is the Nen Dîn," Frodo murmured in revered tones, "The silent water. It is where Gandalf brought you and I, Sam, while we slept. This is the first place he brought me when I had woken. And he asked me who I would speak to if I could...if I could send a message to one far away. He told me then that if I put my face close to the water and gave it my message and blessing then it would reach them."
"How?" breathed Merry, staring deep into the mirror frame lodged amid the heather.
"By whatever means Gandalf does everything; via riddles and with a little help from eagle."
Caught in the splendour of Nen Dîn, Merry and Pippin bent to the water and sat in silent conversation for a great time. Frodo put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I really don't know if it's true, Sam," he said, grinning, "But there's honestly no harm."
"Oh, it ain't that," Sam answered with a blush, "It's just I was wondering who I should speak to. I'd dearly love to tell my Gaffer where I am and all but it's just your mentioning of Rosie...I can't make up my mind."
"Sam, I am quite certain that these waters will gladly allow you more than one message. After all, it knows you from when healers bore you here. You are free to speak to both your father and Rosie."
They smiled at each other then together knelt by the pool and joined their companions in the exchange of soundless words. Then, one by one, with infinite solemnity, the hobbits rose again. Pippin had tears in his eyes as he thought wistfully of his mother siting in the warm familiar space of home...so very far away... Merry put an arm round him and drew his away.
Frodo finished next and took advantage of his moment absent of watchful eyes to look upon his left hand. It was trembling fitfully. He had gone to such pains to hide it; to save himself from curious questions that might open up aching wounds and expose himself fully to those he loved. He could not afford to do that.
"Master?"
He started, habitually covering up his hand at his friend's voice. "Oh, I am sorry. What did you say?"
Sam looked anxiously at Frodo's face, which had hurriedly disassembled the emotions there at his call.
"Why don't you head back now?" he said gently, "I'll follow on in a moment."
"Alright. And don't worry about me, take your time here."
Clearly understanding the hypnotic effect Nen Dîn had had on Sam, Frodo withdrew after his cousins, back to the world of time and haste. Samwise lingered still. There was one last message that he longed to be heard. Perhaps, he wondered, this enchanted place could allow his words to be heard.
"Please Frodo," he murmured, his breath sending the water into tempered undulations, "Tell me what you saw in that dream. Let me help you again. Please let me in."
Then he drew back on shaking legs and looked across the expanse of reflected light. He made a despairing wish to the Lady Galadriel, unaware that Frodo watched him from behind, his fathomless eyes filling with tears.
--
Merry and Pippin were sitting delightedly on one of the huge benches that were normally reserved for soldiers. Feeling thoroughly refreshed after their visit to Nen Dîn, they had persuaded Aragorn to let them eat with the rest of the army, so that they had an opportunity to pick up on the latest tales from Minas Tirith and Edoras. They sat there, swinging their legs elatedly and chattering nine to the dozen, leaping up and waving when Sam came in through the tent opening. The friendly men lifted the flustered hobbit up to join his companions where he sat awkwardly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
"So, tell us," Merry demanded of the guards opposite, using one finger to jab accusingly at the breastplates and the other to grip his newly delivered tankard, "What of the Lady Éowyn? Has she fully recovered now? Faramir is being terribly quiet about it."
"Well, I'm afraid we shall be quiet also," replied the nearest soldier, "For we know little of her welfare, only that she is out of harm's way and often seen in the gardens of the city. She is no less fair and no less stubborn in her will."
"Good for her! I hope to see her very soon when we return to Minas Tirith."
"You're leaving?"
"Soon, or so Aragorn keeps telling us. As soon as he thinks Frodo is strong enough."
"The Ringbearer is strong. The way he's been up and down Ithilien, I'm surprised he hasn't walked back to the city..."
Sam listened to this without worry and with good intents. But he kept hearing his friend's scream in the darkness, tearing through the canopy of night, ripping into his soul. He winced at the memory and hoped all the more ardently that his wishes would be answered. Perhaps then he could let Frodo go back to being what he once was; that kind-hearted, courteous and moreover whole Baggins. Once, Sam thought had truly understood him. Now he was fading... getting further away... beyond even Sam's reach.
Now it came to it, where was Frodo? He had left the pool before him and yet he had not seen him on the way to the tent nor did he seem to be here now. At once, he was taut with nerves and the back of his neck prickled. He touched Pippin lightly on the arm. "Peregrin," he ventured, hardly aware of the name he had used, "Has Mister Frodo come in yet? Have you seen him at all since he took us to that water?"
The wide green eyes went even wider. Pippin shook his head.
"No, I haven't, now you mention it. I wonder where he's got to."
"But he set off before me!" Sam cried in growing anxiety. He jumped down from the bench, ducking under the table with a few muttered apologies and excuses then ran out of the tent. Pippin downed his drink and followed not a few seconds after. Merry was too absorbed in tales and just a bit too far- gone to take heed of this.
Outside, Pippin followed Sam back to their beds, which were as empty as when they left them that morning. But neither of them were willing to be put off. They went to all the pavilions of their friends and asked with increasing alarm if any of them had seen Frodo. As a final resort, they skidded down the bank of the Nen Dîn and searched the undergrowth there. There was no sign. Back, forth, through again, clambering back the camp, in and out, round and around. Sam came to a halt at last, unable to go on with this mad chase any longer. He could feel it deeper within him. Something instinctive was telling him that they were not looking in the right places.
"Why would he just run off like this?" he exclaimed in frustration.
"Did he say anything to you, Sam?" Pippin appealed desperately, "Did he tell you anything at the pool?"
"Well, no... but I saw something... like something in his eyes that I haven't seen there in a good long while and all the better for it. Just for a moment, I thought I saw it again. But then he was back to himself and I didn't think twice of it. Oh, but why would that drive him away?"
"Perhaps we're overreacting," was the uncertain reply, "He might simply have needed some time alone. Most likely, he'll come striding back down that hill, all airs and graces, and tell us how silly we are for worrying."
Sam's expression told Pippin exactly what he thought of the idea. Pippin swallowed and nodded.
"Let's go and tell Aragorn," he said in a small voice.