Chapter 3 – Lies

Frodo's wails came over and over, bouncing back and forth within the four walls of the healing chamber.  The pathetic low cries seemed to seep into every being present there, Sam – the one most affected by it, Aragorn, and the two elves.  They stood as if entrenched to the marble floor, mesmerized by the curled up figure whose bare back leaned hard against the glass wall.  And still no one moved even after Frodo's wails had turned to silent sobs - the up and down movements of the hobbit's shoulders revealing his weeping as he held his hands over his face.

It was Sam who first broke from his trance.

The gardener turned and looked up at Strider, sending an unspoken question through his small, hazel eyes.  He simply did not understand.  His mind could not grasp what had happened that could turn his master into this piteous creature.  Sam knew Frodo had been held captive by his own cousin, Merry, but why did Frodo think him an apparition?  Had not Frodo recognized him when he found him bound to one of the pillars in the balcony?

And there was a slight of shame flashing through Sam's mind to see a fellow hobbit brought so low, acting so shamelessly undignified and undone.  Sam glanced briefly at one human and two elves around him, gritting his teeth.  Mr. Frodo should have known better!  Even if Frodo had been tormented, Sam was sure the wounds would heal soon.

But then Sam noted Frodo's languid motions as he removed his hands from his face and wrapped them around his folded knees, all the while humming softly, rocking back and forth.  This all felt like a harsh slap across Sam's face.  Ashamed?  What had he been thinking?!  His Mr. Frodo had been hurt, and the scars went more than skin-deep.  How could Sam even think to be concerned of the Shire's pride?

Sam was squeezing his own hands, feeling his heart starting to bleed seeing how Frodo was still swaying slowly with his face resting helplessly on the knees, pressing his cheek, and his eyes staring unseeingly.

Sam moved forward, only to be stopped by Aragorn's warning tone.

"Be careful, Sam."

The hobbit gazed up, looking hurt.

"Of what?"  he snapped.  "It's not likely that I will hurt him, nor he me."

Aragorn sighed.

"That's not what I mean.  Frodo is just not in a condition where he knows people.  He can't even recognize himself," Strider said under his breath.

But Sam kept going.  And several steps before he got to Frodo, he knelt down.

And crawled slowly,

one hand reaching out

to stroke Frodo's curls that fell on his forehead.

Slowly.

Sam's doubtful movements almost froze, half waiting for Frodo's response.  He was ready to take back his hand should Frodo give even the smallest flinch.

Sam's breaths turned frazzled as moments went by.  Slowly.

But there was no sign whatsoever that indicated Frodo noticed the touch.  He was still rocking, still humming, still staring blankly.

And it was Sam that broke into tears.  He could not restrain himself any longer.  He closed the distance between his dear master and him, tenderly gathering Frodo's frail frame into his own, letting Frodo's face be buried deep into his chest.

"Frodo!  Oh, Mr. Frodo!  I'm really Sam.  Samwise!  And I'm not dead.  I'm not a ghost!"

He kissed Frodo's hair again and again, purposely ignoring its ill smell.

"I'm hugging you, Frodo.  I'm touching you.  You can feel me, can't you?  You can't feel a ghost, Frodo, but you can feel me for I'm not a ghost.  Don't you understand, Mr. Frodo?"

And for the first time Sam felt Frodo stiffen in his embrace.  Was it a good sign – or not?  Yet Sam did not care.  He still hugged Frodo, and rubbed the poor hobbit's back gently.  Sam's lips started chanting his master's name: Frodo, Frodo.

Frodo was no longer staring.  He shut his eyes tightly now and his body began to grow limp.  A silent stream of tears slipped onto his cheek.

Again, no one seemed dare to disturb the serenity of the two hobbits entwined with each other.

Until suddenly

…the door was slammed open.

A tiny figure broke into the room as fast as a lightning, bolting out to Frodo, if not suddenly halted by Aragorn.

"Bilbo, wait!"  cried the ranger.  He realized Bilbo must have not known anything that had happened to Frodo.  Strider knew Bilbo had just arrived home from the north, visiting an elf family that were his friends.  That was also the reason why Bilbo had escaped the cruel treatment of Merry, the Isengarders, the orcs, and their wargs.

But on the other hand, Bilbo would pay no heed to Frodo's real condition and the fact that something horrible had happened to his beloved nephew, being blinded by his longing to see Frodo.

Aragorn grasped Bilbo's shoulders gently and steered him outside the room.

"You remember me, Bilbo?"  asked Aragorn silently.  "I'm Strider, a ranger that walked across the Shire."  He did not wait for Bilbo to remember him or not.  "Let's go out before I let you see Frodo.  I have something important to tell you."

"B-but…"  It was so typical of Bilbo not to yield easily.  "Why is Frodo crouching on the floor?  What's wrong with him?"

"That's part of what I'd like to tell you."  Strider forced himself to smile and after successfully leading Bilbo out of the room, he closed the door behind him quietly.

A moment later the heavy door hummed open, revealing two still figures standing in the gap it left behind.  Bilbo froze as if he were a statue, his face damp with traces of tears, both of his arms hanging stiffly at the sides of his body.  Bilbo's entire body screamed, commanding himself not to enter the room and backed away as far as possible.  But even that he was unable to do, for all the muscles he had had felt completely numb.

The story Aragorn had told him was the worst thing Bilbo had ever heard.  None of his adventures surpassed the cruelty of it.  And to think that it was all done by Merry, Frodo's own cousin.  Merry, of all people…

And now from this very door, Bilbo could see at the other side of the room, a hobbit that had been Frodo, seeming eerily passive in the hands of Samwise Gamgee, Hamfast's youngest son.

Aragorn, who was standing a little bit behind Bilbo, placed his palm on Bilbo's shoulder and pushed the hobbit deliberately.

"Let's go in, Bilbo," he said.  "Frodo needs you."

Bilbo found that the next steps he was about to take were the hardest ones.  Mixed feelings tussled up in his heart and thousands of what if's popped up in his mind.  What if Frodo did not recognize him?  What if Frodo get mad at him?  What if Frodo suddenly attacked him?

And more questions drifted up, making the elderly hobbit feel dizzy.

But as Bilbo thought the terrible thoughts, without realizing it, he had walked up to where Frodo and Sam were sitting, between the bed and the window.  Sam gazed up, eyes sparkling both with remaining tears and with amazement of seeing Bilbo again.  He then turned back to Frodo, kissed the top of Frodo's head lightly, and whispered,

"I must go now, Mr. Frodo.  Mr. Bilbo is here.  He wants to see you too."

Sam let go of his master and leant him back on the window to stop him from falling over.  Frodo still held his legs but he no longer placed his head on them.  He looked straight on, never heeding Bilbo or anyone else in the room.  Perhaps not even Sam.

Bilbo strode forward, cupping Frodo's both cheeks in his hands, and lifting the face up, he looked forlornly at the pale features.

"Frodo…"  Bilbo choked.  His throat strangled.  His heart wrenched down.  Where was his vibrant, young cousin he used to know?  Bilbo felt like he were drowning in his own memories, struggling to find the slightest glimpse of Frodo in this pale and forlorn countenance.

Bilbo stroked Frodo's cheeks slowly with his thumbs, almost crying out in surprise as his finger rubbed over a long gash on the hobbit's right cheek, and spontaneously pulled his hands away from the face.  Bilbo stared at the healing wound in horror.

"What's this?"  His whisper came out bitterly.  Once again he traced the gash with his thumb, Frodo wincing slightly.  Bilbo froze.  "Does it hurt, Frodo?"  he pushed.  But his query only struck an empty stare.

Bilbo whipped his head to the side, unable to see Frodo a moment longer.  A pair of warm, brown eyes welcomed him.  Gandalf.

"Gandalf!"  Bilbo shouted and ran to the knelt-down wizard – something he immediately regretted as he came to realize how selfish he was, knowing Frodo's condition.

"My dear Bilbo," Gandalf said as he engulfed his old friend in a consoling manner.  "Be strong, Bilbo.  Be strong for Frodo." 

Gandalf patted Bilbo's back gently.  And while he was doing so, Gandalf's eyes strayed and caught Frodo watching him, observing him.  This time it was Gandalf who was stunned.  He ceased patting Bilbo at once as his mind whirled in wonder.  Had Frodo finally returned to himself?

Gandalf slowly disengaged himself from Bilbo, his hand fishing into a pocket inside his robe.  He pulled out a string of fine, silvery chain with something dangling from it.  The golden rays of the afternoon sun fell onto the trinket, making it glow even more.  The Ring.

"Have to return this to whom it belongs," he murmured, and moved toward Frodo.  In a very brief moment, Gandalf again thought the poor hobbit had came back as the wizard caught glints of every single feeling a person might have.  Fear.  Anger.  Sorrow.  Despair.  But when Gandalf wanted to make sure what he had seen, all those expressions vanished in a flash, replaced by the same, blank gape.  The wizard huffed loudly.

Gandalf then decided to set aside his disappointment and carry on with what he intended to do.  He raised his hands and placed the necklace over Frodo's head to slowly put it down until finally the Ring rested peacefully on the hobbit's naked breast.  Gandalf sighed in relief although deep down he was cursing.  Such a wicked thing!  In his eyes the Ring looked as if It were mocking everyone.  It seemed so atrociously meek.  So docile!

The wizard looked closely at Frodo to check his reaction.  But again, nothing came from the hobbit's mouth, neither acceptance nor objection.  Frodo indeed glanced briefly down at the cursed thing but a moment later he resumed his earlier act, rocking his body to and fro.

Frodo did not even seem to care when Gandalf bent down and gathered him in his arms, bringing him back to the bed.  Frodo still did not say anything when his erstwhile friend released his legs from his own gripping arms, straightening them, and spread the blanket over his body.

Desperate to find anything to grasp, Frodo promptly grabbed at the edges of the blanket and held them fast as if he would shred into pieces should he lose them again.

Frodo turned away from the many prying eyes that were hovering over him.  Suddenly he felt his own eyes warm with tears.  His body began to shake, his breaths turned ragged.  Frodo closed his eyes as emotion washed over him like a wave.

"Lies.  These are all LIES!"  His heart screamed in hysteria and profound misery.

TBC

aelfgifu: My greatest beta!  I'm sorry but I haven't added more Merry this time.  Next time, okay?  ^_^

illyria-pfyffin: It's not true that you encumbered me by your writing.  I learn a lot from you.  You're a great writer!  About Merry… hmm, I guess he did his worst in NH.  Can't make him do more here.  :)


Nutmeg: My goodness!  I laughed the entire night reading your review!  That was so sweet in your own way, Meg!  (not AIA, for sure, LOL)  'Frodo come back for pie?'  OMG!!!  But you see now; I really updated!!

endymion2: I thank you for keeping reading it although my slow updates made it difficult to follow the story.  I'm so sorry!! 

Trust No One: I'm still honored to have you read and reviewed this.  You're such a great writer, too.  Please continue reading.

FrodoBaggins87: Here is my update – though still not soon enuf.  Look forward to hearing from you, honey!