Chapter 14 – Memory

"I got you, Mr. Frodo. No need to worry now."

"… can take him somewhere under a tree, Sam. You know he loves it there."

"I will, Gandalf, sir. I know that."

"… remember to not mention anything about what you heard and saw here, Samwise. He has no memory of it, I can assure you, but who knows…"

"I'll lock up my mouth, Lord Elrond."

Words were coming and going as Frodo was drifting in and out of consciousness. Other times he was almost convinced that he was actually walking. He could feel a hand supporting his back and another grasping his arm tightly as if afraid he was going to tumbledown. Soft whispers were flowing into his ears, comforting him, encouraging him to keep moving. Then they halted at last, and his body was lowered.

Then he drifted out again.

Until now.

Suddenly Frodo felt the urge to open his eyes. He was not certain why but he felt strangely refreshed, - not only in body, but in mind. He no longer felt terrible about himself. There was no more of the burden that had seemed to weigh down on him for what seemed his entire life. No more curtains of haze swathing over his mind and his senses. He could nearly tell himself that he was healed.

Not that he forgot what had come upon him. Memories rushed into him again. Memories of Merry, the men, the wargs, beatings, and more beatings…

Yet Frodo could also place the memories of the events that came afterwards. Bilbo was once crying at the foot of Frodo's bed, looking aged and guilty. There was nothing else Frodo wanted to do but crawl out of his coverlet and approach him, tell him that he was all right. Yet he could not. He was still shrouded behind a thick fog of misunderstanding and trauma. He did not even realize he was no longer a captive, and at that time his mind still sought Merry, the only one that cared for him.

But there had been no Merry still. Pippin was present in his stead, and Frodo could also feel Sam and Gandalf, Elrond, a ranger, and the others. They were all there to comfort him and to tend to his injuries. Pippin had asked for clemency over and over. Frodo knew he barely responded to that but Pippin should have known that Frodo would forgive him. Pippin was far younger than he or Merry. It was no wonder the lad often slipped into doing something wrong when deprived of guidance. Pippin's circumstances were different from those of Merry, who was mature enough to tell good from ill. But even Merry could slip. After all he was simply an ordinary hobbit. One should never demand too much from him.

Frodo let his mind wander in silence. He lay on the couch quietly, letting his soft blanket drape nonchalantly over his body. He cast his eyes around the lovely park adorned with lines of old Mallorn trees, their fallen leaves covering the ground like a carpet. The breeze floated around him, sending shivers down Frodo's spine with its chilling sensation, forcing him to clutch his cover tightly with his pale hands. The wind chilled him but Frodo rebuked the urge to submit to his quivering body. The draftiness helped him revive him, and for the first time in a long while, Frodo could breathe without restraint.

The hobbit threw glances now and again toward his dozing gardener that was sprawling in a plush armchair across from his couch. Frodo's face twisted in a tone of pity and concern, moving forward as if to wake Sam up, but thought the better of it. Sam must have been exhausted after days keeping guard beside his bed. The younger hobbit deserved sufficient rest for that. Frodo would be able to see to himself as long as Sam needed to sleep. Everything would be just fine. Nothing would dare to harm here, in the heart of Elrond's dwelling place, the one known as the House of Healing.

After all, he had been alone before this, hadn't he? No one had been with him to keep him safe. It was he and no one else. It was he that must take care of himself. After he was parted from Merry, that is.

Frodo stirred a little, brushing aside the blanket a bit, soundlessly, and dropped his feet one by one. Once he caught a movement from Sam's direction and sat still. He wanted to loosen the stiffness of his legs from being too long lying on the bed.

It was not an easy task – using his legs again. When Frodo had succeeded putting both feet flat on the floor, he immediately felt as if his heels were attacked by thousands of needles. He had almost let out a joggling shriek if he did not remember he was not alone. Frodo forced himself to step forward, ignoring the prickling sensation, going back inside. He had a mind on who he was seeking but he had no idea where to go. The features in this dwelling place were completely unknown to him.

A rustling noise from the back froze Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo? Where are you going?"

The departing hobbit turned around reluctantly.

"Nowhere, Sam," he sighed.

Sam rose abruptly and caught up with Frodo. He grasped his master's shoulders gently and steered him back to the couch.

"You need a rest, Mr. Frodo. And outside here is just perfect to do that."

Frodo groaned, planting his feet firmly to the ground. "I have enough rest, Sam. In fact, I'm tired of it," Frodo said grouchily. "And I'm tired people are fretting all the time about my well being." Frodo felt the beefy hands on his shoulders stiffen before they detached completely from him.

"We – we are concerned about you, Frodo. You've been through so much and suffered deeply. We--"

"I'm good now, Sam."

"—only want you to fully return to us."

Frodo sighed. "I know that, and I'm grateful for all your attention and care toward me but…" Sam jumped to Frodo's face as his master showed a sign of another movement, and brought Frodo's upper arms into his firm clutch.

"You're not going anywhere, Mr. Frodo," he said stubbornly, eyes squinting.

"Sam!" Irritation was apparent in Frodo's sharpening voice. "Am I being held against my will again? Let go of me."

"No, Mr. Frodo. Mr. Gandalf instructed me to keep you safe – and keep you safe I will."

"Why?" challenged Frodo, his body stiffening in Sam's hands, eyes wandering over his gardener's face, trying to place any dissent there.

-- which he just could not find. What existed were regret and grief. Frodo then realized that Sam had not responded to his query.

"Sam?" he asked again, his voice softening.

Sam's eyes flickered as if they just awoke from a long sleep. His hands dampened with sweat and soon they slipped off Frodo's arms. Sam licked his lips, feeling suddenly drained.

"M – Mr. Frodo, we just want to make sure nothing bad won't happen to you again. You're yet back to yourself again. You're not as strong as usual. Then there's Mr. Merry still around…"

It seemed like both hobbits flinched at Sam's last sentence: Sam at recalling Gandalf's words to him and Frodo at the sentence itself.

"What do you mean?" snapped the older hobbit. "Of course Merry will still be here, as long as I'm here, if I'm not mistaken. He promised to accompany me in the journey and while I'm not back yet, he won't be back either."

Sam touched Frodo's hand slowly. "You surely have the memory of what he's done to you, do you not, Mr. Frodo?" reminded Sam carefully. "How he has treated you dreadfully?" Looking at his master right now, Sam could not really grasp in what state of mind Frodo was actually in. Was he still in the state of denial in which he refused to remember or did he already fully understand of what had happened – if so, how did he actually receive it? Sam remembered just a moment ago how Frodo's eyes shone wildly, hand clutching a leather belt and lashing it ferociously over – empty air – while shouting and crying and weeping. Sam could not forget his puzzlement at first but Elrond's words during the event helped him understand and almost make him weep, too. His Mr. Frodo had drowned too deep in his suffering he managed to think of punishing his own flesh and blood. Sam was grateful the elven king had his own way in dealing with the abhorrent pull.

Now his master's eyes no longer held the feral rage. They had returned to their usual gentleness – and stubbornness that often made them look alert at all times.

Those pair of alert blueness shot back at Sam's brown ones right now.

"Merry was not himself," Frodo replied, short and cold, as if that explained everything. Deep down he wanted to forget the whole thing but he could not. Even his last slumber, the first peaceful sleep he had had, was still haunted by nightmarish memories. Yet there was something seemed to be missing from his mind. There was a piece that was supposed to be in Frodo's head but he could not grasp it. Somehow Frodo knew that this one memory was important yet he also felt that it was fine for him not to remember. Moreover, he also knew that he no longer held a grudge against Merry anymore, though he did not know how that came to be.

"Sam." Now it was Frodo that was holding Sam by the arms – then hugged him so tightly and surprisingly that Sam almost jumped if he was not fast encircled by Frodo. "Thank you. Thank you for everything you've done for me," he whispered in Sam's ear. Frodo let him go half reluctant and half eager. "You've been a best friend to help me recover." Frodo checked Sam's eyes. "But I have to go now. I have to find Merry. He has suffered as much as I have, being under the Ring's influence. He needs me, Sam."

With that Frodo circled Sam and left to the direction of Elrond's manor. Sam could only stare blankly, following Frodo with his uncomprehending eyes. It was beyond him to see how Merry could be worthy of his master's forgiveness.

TBC

Coriandra, thank you for reading! I'm afraid the answers to your questions should be answered by this chapter or the next one. Don't worry. I've finished that already.

Thank you, FrodoBaggins87. Hm, I guess I really soften up lately, huh? Looking forward to seeing you again.

Freya, it might be some kind of hallucination. Or under Elrond's spell…

My thanks still go to Aelfgifu for the beta.

And I guess, I really could use a word or two from you, you know…