The Faces of War:

Chapter 6: Discovery


This story is based on the creations of J.R.R. Tolkein, a master of scripted adventures. The following alternate Universe story is based on the character he so carefully crafted. I gain nothing from "borrowing" his characters, except of course the growth of my imagination.


This story is a sequel to "Gift of the Valar", also posted here on ff.net.



After what seemed in Frodo's estimation, a rather large second breakfast, they prepared to leave. Sam smiled to himself, satisfied for once with the food his master'd just consumed 'now that's more like it' he thought to himself as he fastened his cloak...or rather Mr. Frodo's cloak and prepared to leave. The two hobbits and two rather large and serious looking tower guards accompanied them as they left the palace.


Sam, much to his discomfort, walked ahead. He was wearing the finely appointed cloak that Aragorn had ordered made for the ringbearer. He twitched uncomfortably, the cloak had been made to keep the frail and often cold ringbearer comfortable and Sam was near to sweltering in it. He shifted his gaze every few steps to be sure that Frodo could still be seen, but after walking through the seventh and sixth levels of the city he found his gaze distracted by the sights around him. He stared, saddened by the sights of destruction and deprivation that were all about him. He tightened his fist in anger as his hatred for the overriding evil of Sauron filled him once more.'They've suffered but good, these folk 'o Aragorn's have a tough road ta travel...no mistake' he found himself thinking 'they've given so much ta this war....when'll it be over fer 'em?' . He snuck another look behind him, only to be waved away by a very observant Frodo.

'I don't like this...I know me gaffer'd have some words fer me right about now...look after 'im Sam ya ninnyhammer....ye know yer not looking after 'em if yer looking back ta him...' Sam's worries about his master filled his mind as they continued their trek through the wounded city of Minas Tirith.


Everywhere Frodo looked there were signs of war. His large blue eyes looked out from the plain grey of Sam's cloak, he was glad of it's concealment for he more than once felt a tear slip down his cheek. Wounded soldiers and peoples of the city alike hobbled or limped as they displayed missing limbs or body parts damaged beyond repair. Dirty faced children huddled near to whatever tired and worn looking adult would have them. As they traveled into the camps, Frodo's queries were met with vacant stares, shrugs and an occasional "not ta me knowing young sir" or even the cruel "we could use a few less of 'em here abouts" or " missin' orphans tain't such a bad thing." He was saddened by the coldness he felt from those he spoke to, but knew that all in the city were struggling. As he walked through the camps that Aragorn had managed to set up, the children looked at Sam with wonder, for here they saw a being of worth...one who could travel with the King's guard...wearing finery and looking well fed. Suddenly every last mouthful of his second breakfast felt as if it would spill from him as he realized that he had in fact caused some of the pain he witnessed all about him. Images of days struggling through Mordor, their time in Ilithian, their slow trek through the Emyn Muil...'Why did we not journey with greater haste?' he found himself thinking as a woman in a tattered dress, a babe in her arms...reached to him for help. He stopped and gave her what small coin he had as an idea took shape in his mind 'I have caused this misery...I needed to complete the quest with haste and there in the waste of Mordor I stumbled and staggered, lost to my wretched worries and self doubts.' He shook his head, wanting to deny his role in the pain of those about him, but knowing he could look no farther than himself and his failures, he felt suddenly weary...but knowing that he would have to find the strength to undo what harm he could he forced himself to trudge on.


The procession continued through all four of the top levels of the city, when they came upon a gradual widening in the street and a crowded, bustling market filled with the sounds of people haggling to barter for the paltry goods still to be found in the ravaged city. Frodo took a deep breath and stepped aside to talk with some shop owners. Sam looked, once more, over his shoulder to ensure that his master was still within his sights, but all he saw behind him were shop stalls and haggling vendors. His face went white and he was about to call to the guards when he saw his own plain cloak, and his master walking from a venders stall. Frodo looked up to reassure him and Sam nearly fainted from the relief he felt within him at the sight of those large blue eyes staring at him. Sam took a deep breath and vowed that he'd have no more of this 'sneaking about', he turned to make eye contact with his master and to tell him of his ire.


Frodo was discouraged, his queries had brought him no information of use. He was tired and suddenly felt every ache and pain from his most recent encounter with the Valar's visions. He was about to walk ahead to Sam and admit his defeat when through the vastness of the crowd a commotion was growing as a vendors horse drawn cart took off through the crowded street, it's driver absent. Sam, sensing the danger turned to run back to Frodo, only to find his way blocked by the panicked people about him. The crowd cleared for an instant and Sam's heart stopped as he watched Frodo stare to the figure of a little girl, blond curls dipping to cover her face as she bent to retrieve some treasured possession from the ground. The frantic horse was just upon the girl as Sam watched Frodo hurl himself upon the body of the child in the street.


Frodo hit the cobbled street with his back and head coming to rest, none to gently upon the rocks, but the girl grasped protectively upon his stomach. He exhaled forcefully, relieved to hear the sound of the child's cries, "shhhh dearheart, 'tis ok...you've not even a bump I'd wager" he smiled broadly at her and as he sat up the hood of his cloak fell away and he shook his dusty curls. "Is your poppet hurt little one?" he prodded gently looking to the little ones ragged doll. As she stopped crying and turned her face full to him, tears of fear reduced to sniffles. He handed her a handkerchief and froze as the sight of her face flashed before him....Blond curls released from a kerchief, her body slowly falling and the dust rising about her as she lay under the scorching heat of the noonday sun...


She stared at his blue eyes in wonder and a smile slowly broke across her chubby cheeks as she said "thank ye...ye saved me dolly ye did" and she giggled just as an arm reached down and none to gently yanked her from Frodo's stomach. "Rosetta" the angry boy growled "How many times 'ave I got ta tell ya ta keep close ta me in the Market"....The boys voice was already fading as he rushed the girl away and Frodo heard her say "The nice boy saved me dolly Kylos..." his last view of the girl from his vision was of her torn, scuffed and muddied sandals.

The formidable looking tower guards used their bodies to press through the crowd and soon Sam was kneeling at Frodo's side. The loyal hobbits face was a study of fear, relief and anger as all emotions seemed to be passing upon his face at once. Seeing that his master was just shaken and not truly hurt settled it and Sam's face became the picture of ferocity as his protective instincts gave way to his fear and he allowed himself to voice his anger. He reached down to pull a still staring Frodo to his feet and hearing him wince as his master's sore back suddenly bore the weight of his abruptly upright body, Sam snapped "I shouldn't wonder at yer being sore...gads Frodo, ye could 'a been killed! What're thinking?"


Frodo couldn't answer, he could only stare at the spot where he'd last seen the apparition from his vision. He heard Sam's voice, clearly angered and short with him in his fear, but is seemed a sound he could not focus on. His only thoughts were of the girl, 'Rosetta....the children...they are near' was the only cohesive image he could wrap his mind around. Sam finally grabbed the pale hobbit's face in his hands and forced Frodo to look at him " 'ave ye heard nothing I've said?" Sam asked testily. Frodo's wide blue eyes seemed dazed and he tilted his head to one side, as if all had become too much and he could no longer even hold up his head. "The children..." he managed to whisper before he sank slowly to his knees as his burdened body and mind gave in to his fatigue and he fainted. Sam managed to grasp him by the upper arms before he fell completely to the ground "now ye've done it Sir, Strider's like ta have me head fer this" he said as he gestured to the guards to lift and carry Frodo back to the palace.


He woke to find a worried Aragorn leaning over him "am I to find a new census taker then Mr. Baggins?" The King asked and then continued "Sam tells me you've been dodging crazed horses in the market....is this true?" he asked eyebrow raised in his query. Frodo nodded and gently rotated his head about and groaned from the ache of his bruised back and sore head. Aragorn looked at the carefully stretching hobbit before him and grinned "Lucky for you young hobbit you've gotten off with naught but a bump here" he ruffled Frodo's curls "and a few bruises." Frodo grimaced "Yes, lucky me." Aragorns eyes grew serious "Lucky for the little one you saved in the market." He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and leaning forward with his hands on the knees of his royal robes said "just between you and me, Sam is, well shall we say a little exasperated by your behavior today." Frodo looked quite contrite "Dear Sam, it seems I am a source of constant disappointment to him." He looked sadly to his pale hands, rubbing the stump of his missing finger as he contemplated all the things he's done to sadden his friend. Aragorn, taking note of the pain in Frodo's face as he massaged the maimed hand sought to distract him. He stood up, the silk of his ceremonial robes making a soft rustle as he changed positions. "How would you like to rest...by yourself this evening? I shall drag Sam to yet another royal banquet where he may regal you cousins with the tales of your misdeeds before they set off with Gimli in the morning for the outer settlements." Frodo nodded and smiled "Thank you Strider" he sighed "perhaps spewing his evil thoughts of me to Merry and Pippin shall set him in a better mood." Aragorn looked a moment upon the earnest face of the quiet hobbit before him "I think a little time apart would be just the thing for both of you...I'll have a tray sent up". He turned to go, but was stopped by Frodo's last words "Thank you Aragorn, would you please tell Sam I shall sleep in and that I'll eat any vile food he asks of me for second breakfast tomorrow."

Aragorn turned and looking to Frodo laughed " sleep well my friend" he replied and closed the door behind him.