Faces of War
Chapter 7: Seeking
Authors Note:
This story is based upon the characters of JRR Tolkein, individuals lovingly crafted by a master writer. I hope to present, in this alternate universe story a picture that helps us to understand the pain that forces, even the timid and insecure, to attempt great deeds. This chapter is where the "R" rating comes into play. I struggled with how to present Frodo as a character "set upon" by the forces of evil, sought to describe the ultimate degradation of spirit without dishonoring his strength....I hope that I have presented the scenes in such a way as to build your admiration for his resiliency, without leaving distasteful images in your minds. There will be non-consensual intimate contact and violence in future portions of this story. Please read only what you are comfortable with.
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Frodo waited until he was certain that Aragorn's footsteps were but a memory upon the smooth hard stones of the hallway, then he climbed out of bed. In moments he had found all he sought and was quickly attired in his most plain hobbit garb. Plain brown breeches, a white broadcloth shirt....one of Sam's he was certain by the size of it upon his thin frame, and a dark blue weskit. He patted his chest, it felt rather odd to be wearing the Mithril shirt again, but he would not disappoint Sam once more by becoming injured in his quest this evening, of that he was determined. He grabbed his elven cloak, the shadowy grey greens blending with the evening shades about him, he cast it about his body. He looked briefly at Sting, in it's scabbard underneath the window, but decided the success of his endeavor lie in stealth, not strength and Sting remained....a silent testimony to his purpose.
He looked out his window, a mere eight foot or so drop to the ground below him, he carefully lifted himself upon the windows edge and turning himself about dangled until his feet had a mere 4 or 5 feet to fall until they hit the ground. He let himself fall, hitting the ground with a soft grunt he looked up to the window regretting his need to be dishonest in his actions ' I will find Rosetta's camp by morning, and if all goes as planned I'll be back before any know I've been absent' he thought to himself. As he made his way through the top level of the city, where the palace was located, he felt a twinge of guilt about his deception....but realized that those who knew him best did not fully understand the visions that drove his fears, and he walked on.
The evening shadows lengthened as he moved stealthy through the first four levels of the city, past the market where he'd seen the child of his dreams that afternoon. He continued on, the evening sky was dark and cloudless, affording him the opportunity to move swiftly and undetected through the streets of the city. He'd been walking softly, moving from cover to quiet sheltered spot for nearly two hours when he came at last to the lowest level of the city. He lifted his hood and looked once more to the moonless sky. There was little likelihood that many would be about at this hour, but he wanted to take no chances. He thought back to his encounter with Rosetta in the market, he recalled the look of mud and grasses stuck to the bottom of her worn sandals and knew he'd find her in a camp close to the river. The firelight from the distant camps glowed through the many narrow alleys that led from the last structures of the city to the vast expanse of the Pellenor fields and it's wealth of sad hovel filled camps.
He looked carefully down the alleys, seeking the quickest and quietest way to the lights in the distance. He carefully avoided alleys which echoed with the sounds of late night drunken revelry, for he knew that bespoke an element of Gondorian society he wanted no part of. He paused at the opening of one narrow alley, hearing no sign of such revelry he moved forward carefully, his cloak tucked tight about him. He moved cautiously, his back pressed to the wall of the alley, as his nose was assailed by the odor of rotting garbage from the nearby taverns and shops, he heard voices and sought to hide in the shadows. "Larks Thad, but that was a comely wench in that last tavern eh?" Frodo pressed himself back tightly against the wall of the alley, not wanting anyone to come between him and his journey to find the girl of his visions, he held his breath and waited. "Nothin' like a plump pair 'o pillows ta rest yer troubles on I allers say" the slurred voice continued "ah but then ther'd be precious little restin' I'm guessing" came the evil snicker.
"Slow up there Thad, I gotta release me waters" the other voice said. "Ah Mendel, do ya suppose ar new King 'as a servant ta hold 'is...'is 'staff' fer this 'ere task?" the other voice said laughing lewdly. "Nah, a King with outta queeen? I 'ear he's gotta a half high at his beck 'n call
fer pleasuring" the voice called Mendel replied. Frodo tried to still his breaths and hoped desperately that the elven cloak, that had covered him so well in Mordor would not fail him now as the voices came ever closer. The one named Thad laughed raucously, " half high, why that'd put 'em at jest the right height fer...." the sound of water hitting the wall near the hobbit filled the air and Frodo ducked down as low as he could. The drunken man slipped in some of the filth of the alley and stumbled over the figure of the quietly slouching hobbit as he groped the wall seeking stability while he tried to keep his feet to fasten his breeches.
"What 'ave we 'ere Mendel? Why I musta had too many, this 'eres a half high" Thad said thickly as he grabbed Frodo's arm and looked him over. "Get a nice look did ye?" he asked eyes narrowing suggestively. "I bet ye ain't seen nothin' so fine at the palace." the drunken man laughed as his friend came to his side. Frodo's eyes were wide with terror as he looked from one face to another "Eh Thad, yer scaring 'im with that ugly thing 'o yers." Medel said laughing then stopped as he saw fully the beauty of Frodo's wide blue eyes and finely chiseled features "eh, 'es a beaut 'e is....look at them eyes." he exclaimed as he bent to look more closely. Frodo tried to collect himself and using his best gentlehobbit voice said "Good evening gentlemen, Frodo Baggins at your service...and your family's" he said quietly as he uttered the traditional Shire greeting of respect and civility. " If you would kindly show me to the riverfront, I am meeting my friends there this evening."
"Well, 'ain't we fancy Thad? 'Es as allurin' as any wench, with manners ta boot!" Mendel said. Thad tightened his grip on Frodo's arm. "Come 'ere love, I can help ye meet some new friends." he said as his eyes dwelled on the hobbit's fair features and he ran his other hand suggestively down Frodos' face and neck. "Please sir" Frodo began to explain " I ask only for you aid in finding my way."he said fearfully as he looked about him in panic. There was no one near and these men were near to twice his size it seemed. "Ye liked what ye saw? Didn't ya half high?" Thad leered "would ye like ta see it again?"
Frodo felt himself thrust back upon the walls of the dank alley as Thad started to undo his breeches. Mendel came closer "I'll hold 'em first, gads but those lips are making me breeks tight, hurry it will a Thad?" Frodo was paralyzed with fear as the memory of his defilement at the hands of the Orcs came to him. Image after image of pain, abuse and humiliation flashing within his mind. He was once more again facing cold grey stones and animalistic cruelty. He couldn't bear the agony and the emptying of his soul that he knew would soon be his. His blue eyes filled with tears as he tried to plead with the drunken men. "No , please, not this...not again" he said stricken. His pleas fell on deaf ears as the men raucously took their foul pleasures from him.
The days light had not yet fully broken the hold of night as a little girl skipped to the opening of the alley. " 'ere's the one I found them taters in yesterday Rumeil...lets look ta this heap" she said pointing to a pile of refuse tossed out by a nearby tavern. She made her way into the alley as a weak cough and quiet voice followed her. Rosetta picked through the garbage, watching with a mixture of curiosity and disgust as several large rats scampered out of her way. She picked through the garbage, placing several promising looking scraps in a cloth bag tied to her waist. A slight lad, with dirty blond hair followed the footsteps of his fair and curly haired sister....pausing every few steps to catch his breath. Rosetta paused a moment in her search for food as she noticed a figure lying near to her in the garbage heap. "Look Rumeil, it's that nice boy who saved me dolly at the market" she said as she pointed to Frodo's still form. He was lying as he'd been left, face down in a pile of rancid garbage and food scraps, hands outstretched in his efforts to crawl away and breeches twisted about his knees with his elven cloak hastily yanked over a portion of his body. Rumeil gasped as he saw the blood pooling beneath him and staining portions of his cloak.
"He's been set upon by those ruffians that 'ave been about the camp these past few days....run Rosetta, go ta get Terren, he'll know what ta do." Rumeil said anxiously as he tried to shield his sister's view of the pale form beneath him. "He's a nice boy Rumeil...why 'twould any want ta hurt him?" she asked confused. "I don't know the answer ta that Rosetta, now get you to Terren, this boy's needing his help! Go now, bring him back right quick, before those ruffians come on back...." he said urgently. With a last backward glance the blond lass ran from the alley to seek help.
Rumeil carefully pulled up Frodo's breeches, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the blood and the smell of rotting garbage. He rolled him over to his back and did his best to pull him from the trash heap. Rumeil's slight form could not bear the strain of his efforts and he was soon coughing. He tried once more and in a few moments had Frodo pulled from the trash heap to a cleaner spot in the alley. He wiped a little dirt from the face of the figure before him and marveled at how fair and refined his features were. He stared in the growing daylight and wondered what manner of creature this was at his feet. Frodo's thin and finely sculpted facial features reminded Rumeil of the stories he'd heard of the fair folk. ' e's not a boy from these parts sure enough" he thought to himself , but as he spotted the overly large and hair covered feet, he knew this was not an elf of any sort he'd heard of before. As he was trying to figure what race this boy beneath him belonged to he was interrupted by the arrival of his sister and their friend Terren. Terren approached slowly and knelt down at the hobbit's side as he felt his brow and noted the pattern of blood stains upon his clothing. " 'e's been set upon by them ruffians ain't he?" Terren asked gruffly. "It 'tis a miracle he 'tain't dead already with such abuse." Terren said as he shook his head grimly. "Best ta move 'em back to the camp, 'twon't do no good ta have people nosin' about 'ere after 'em." Terren remarked quietly as he gently slid his hands beneath Frodo's neck and back to lift him. The older man, while a little shaky with his advancing age, had not difficulty lifting the frail hobbit and the four of them headed, under cover of the morning mists from the river, back to the section of the camp they called home.
Rumeil held his sister's hand tightly as they made their way through the assortment of tents, lean to's and flimsy shelters that filled this section of the Pellenor fields. He looked about him uneasily, not wanting to attract the attention of others in the camp. He coughed weakly and Rosetta looked up to him, blue eyes wide with worry at the sound of her brother's illness. He ruffled her curls "don't ye be lookin' ta me with them eyes all round with worry little miss...best ye be savin' yer worries fer the boy that saved yer dolly." Rosetta looked up ahead to where Terren was carrying the gently cradled hobbit in his arms "do ye think 'e'll be alright then Rumeil?" She asked fearfully. Rumeil shook his head and shrugged "there 'tis no tellin', but Terren's got a good heart and I hear tell 'e was once a healer in the court 'o the Steward" he said quietly as he tried to reassure his sister. "Really?" Rosetta asked with amazement, "then perhaps 'e can get the King ta 'elp 'im now." she said hopefully. Rumeil smiled "no love, the King's a big man, with big worries from this war, he'd 'ave no time fer the likes 'o us." he said with a gentle smile.
They followed Terren down a narrow path through the bushes that led to a potion of the crumbled wall that had once been a portion of the massive ramparts that protected the outer fringes of the city. The massive grey stones had fallen in such a way as to form a small cave that wasn't easily noticed by the casual passer byer. Terren huffed a little as he entered the cave and carefully dropping to one knee he laid Frodo down upon his back. He motioned to Rumeil "I'd not be wanted the little one ta be seein' this lad, send her to the water's edge ta play now will ya?" Terren asked softly as he looked at the sad expression upon Rosetta's face. Rumeil nodded and he backed up a few steps to speak quietly with his sister "Rosetta, Terren tells me that yer lad would feel much better were he ta have some flowers ta look upon when he awakens." Rosetta, a smile breaking upon her worried features said "Oh, dolly and I know where the prettiest stand 'o daisies is Rumeil....my boy shall have them right away." She smiled broadly and skipped out of the cave and down the path to the edge of the River Anduin.
Terren, who had been busy setting water to heat over their fire and tearing an old shirt to strips, turned to Rumeil. " 'ere ye go lad, 'elp me with this" he asked as he handed Rumeil a wet rag with which to wipe the dirt from the hobbit's face. Rumeil gently wiped and washed away the dirt and garbage of the alley to reveal fair white skin, some scrapes and a bruise on the hobbit's forehead. "Terren" the boy asked " 'e's not a a boy, nor an elf...what is 'e do ye suppose?" Terren paused in his examination of his patient "'e's a halfling Rumeil, e's one 'o the wee folks that fought in the war with the King." Rumeil stared in awe at the small dimensions of the figure beside him "'e was in the war?" he said in wonder as he stared at the thin frame and delicate features of the dark haired form " a halfling" he said amazed. Just then Frodo rocked his head side to side and clenched his eyes in pain as he moaned. Terren checked his pulse and felt his forehead "Aye, a halfling" Terren sighed "one that's taken a bad beatin'" he said as he started to unbutton Frodo's shirt and weskit. As the elderly healer unbuttoned the coarse white shirt, a glimpse of silver magnificence shone through as the mithrial shirt was revealed. Terren sat back on his heels and slowly reached for Frodo's right hand. The space where his finger should have been was still red and raw looking "'e's not jest a halfling, 'e's the ringbearer" Terren said in amazement. "The what?" Rumeil asked?
As Terren gently removed the mithril shirt and washed Frodo's thin and pale body of it's hurts and filth, he told Rumeil the tale of the ring. The sickly boy listened in wonder, coughed weakly and said "'e's a hero....and we folks owe 'im everything" tears came to his eyes as he turned to Terren "look 'ow we repay 'im...look what new 'urts 'e's been given". Terren frowned "yes lad, seems a mite bit unfair it does," he paused and looked seriously to the lad "but then there's not a whole lot about this war that's been fair eh?" Rumeil shook his head 'no'. Terren turned to his patient and with Rumeil's help rolled him gently to his stomach and said "lad, this 'tain't gonna be a pretty sight, 'is wounds are gonna need tendin'...so if ye can't bear ta watch, well nows the time ta go" the healer said gently. Rumeil shook his head "I want ta 'elp 'im Terren." The older man looked to the boys face but a moment to gauge his commitment and finally replied "all right then, hand me them rags and that cup 'o water and herbs by the fire." Rumeil handed both to Terren and watched as broke more herbs into the cup of steaming water.
Terren carefully pulled Frodo's breeches down and wiped him clean to see if the bleeding had stopped, it hadn't and the sight of more blood brought a frown to his face. Terren feared that this much blood meant that something inside was torn and he carefully reached under the hobbit to palpate his lower stomach region. He was rewarded with a moan and a hoarsely whispered "no more" as his hands found the region of the hobbits badly inflamed kidneys. Terren soaked the clean rags in a herb infusion and gently placed them in the cleft of the hobbit's buttocks. Frodo moaned louder and tried to move away from the intruding hands. Rumeil stroked the now sweat drenched curls of the halfling and tried to sooth him "Shh sir, it's jest Terren, 'e's trying ta 'elp ya." Frodo opened his eyes weakly, dull with pain his blue eyes still struck Rumeil with their beauty "Sam?" the hobbit whispered brokenly "Sam, it hurts" he whimpered "make them stop" he pleaded and lost consciousness. Terren felt his brow and frowned "fever setting in"...he said as he looked to Rumeil "We'll know in the next day if e's gonna live."
Shire Baggins....thanks for the kind words, I enjoy trying to write the hobbits and their different personalities...and Sam is of course a lot of fun to write! Frodo will have many ups and downs in this story....I must say I am a big fan of your stories...any more coming?
Frodobaggins87...Thanks for your review....I finished GOTV....hope you liked the ending!
aelfgifu...Compared to your RATM story, this has very little angst....but thanks for saying so!
CuriousCat...Thanks for your comments! Sam will have many chances to show his mixed emotions about Frodo's "ways"!
Krista2....thanks...so kind....this is a rather long tale....hope you continue to read!
endymion2...there will many chances for Frodo's resilience and strength of heart to shine through!