Faces of War
Chapter 20: Resignation
Discalimer: The Characters from this story are the creation of a literary genius....I am just allowing my burgeoning writing skills to bask in the glow of his glory...thank you J.R.R Tolkein
Warning....this chapter is rated R....I'm afraid that Frodo is in a spot of trouble here....I tried to portray his agony, his shame, his fears and his dwindling spirit as tastefully as I could. However, there are references to "violence" of a sort that some may not find to their liking....I have marked the portions of the chapter dealing with such intimate angst with a line of ****** at the beginning and the end of the text that is most difficult to partake of. This was a difficult section to write and I muddled through it several different ways, finally arriving at this. I hope I have shown the pure unadulterated evil of Anborn as he seeks to bring the pain he feel Frodo deserves to rest upon the frail shoulder of the ringbearer. Anborn is not yet done with Frodo however, there is more evil...of a less "intimate" nature in later chapters! Thanks to all who have stuck with this....I believe there will be another 15-20 chapters to bring the story to it's happy...depending on who you are...sort of ending. Please review if you are so inclined...it does help me as I re-write and form the "final" copy of my stories.
Iorhael....Much of Frodo's life seems to made up of memories of pain....do you think that such memories only serve to remind us, in a more stark contrast, the light that joy brings us? I do...as you can probably see from my stories! I really enjoyed your latest story of Shelob's lair....very interesting premise! You should continue with this....How is "Taken" coming along?
ClaudiaofBree.....the flashbacks will "link" this story to a third...if you can believe it...story that sets Frodo in his early years and the pain he suffered in having no home, no place to belong....this will be a big "hobbity" challenge for me and I will need to keep on my descriptive toes to ensure that I do not butcher the nature of the Shire...and the nature of hobbits too badly! In the planning stages now...look for it in the Spring... Anborn shows his true colors...or at least the beginning of them...here in this chapter!
Endymion2....Saradoc is pompous, self serving and suspicious of Frodo from the very beginning...you'll like him even less in my next story! Amazing that Merry could come from such a hobbit ( or perhaps not if you've read "Ring around the Merry"). The blood poisoning becomes a problem as Frodo's torments continue....fever, weakness etc....but you know that strength of will and "hobbit sturdiness" will win out in the end! Yes, Aragorn is quite torn by his duties, his love, his loyalties....not easy being King....but then again he said he never "wanted" to be King in the first place!
Shire Baggins....I will not kill Frodo....I can barely stand to read the section in the book when he goes to the Grey Havens...no I could not kill such a reminder of gentle kindness, loyal friendship and compassionate righteousness....no, where would we be without a Frodo and a Sam in our lives? The Valar have made some special plans for Frodo...and yes Chrys will come back into this story in dream flashbacks in the next five or so chapters...don't forget about her...she'll be baaaack!
The King looked critically to the specter before him. The last of the three ships was now ready. He frowned as he looked at the three ships clustered together at the few berths of Osgiliath that were able to take the burden of a ship in their varying states of ruin. He found himself wishing with a little voice inside his head, that these ships would find the grace of the Valar and sink before the kidnappers got hold of them. He shook his head, he knew in his heart that such a wish was unwise and would serve no purpose. He walked aboard each ship and examined their contents, then when at last upon the final ship, he turned and looked south. He remembered the day he'd brought these ships to port, Army of the Dead at his call, he'd brought these ships to the salvation of his people. He only hoped that once more these ships would serve the purpose of saving those he held dear.
He raised a hand to rub his weary temple and a voice at his side caught his attention. He turned to face the speaker "my King, the ships are ready and await only your final command to set sail." Aragorn nodded grimly, "a fine job of requisitioning Faramir, I thank you my friend" he said as he clapped the Steward's son upon his shoulder. " I only wish I could have provided more service to my King" Faramir said quietly as he noticed the sad cast to Aragorns features.
"Time will tell what service these ships will render us Faramir" Aragorn said as the two of them disembarked the ship. Faramir nodded thoughtfully "what news is there of Gimli and the Hobbits?" he asked as they mounted their horses and made their way back to the City.
Aragorn smiled wryly "Gimli reports that the Hobbit's have found more found than any save hobbits could consume and that he is plagued by the whining sounds of Elves singing while they trail him in his travels." Faramir laughed, Gimli's affections for the Elf Legolas was well known,
as was his manner of taunting his friend at every turn. "However" the King continued quietly
" they reached the last quarry three days past and saw nothing to arouse suspicion." Faramir frowned "then the ships shall be sent on the morrow?" Aragorn took a deep breath to steady his frayed nerves " yes Faramir, the ships will set sail in the morning. Each will be sent with a company of soldiers to sail them to their destinations, and then to set watch upon all who try to board" the King replied. They rode in silence through the fields of ruin surrounding the city and to the lower gates, each lost in their own thoughts of the destruction around them.
The King signaled to 'halt' as they reached the refugee camp closest to the river. He noted with satisfaction the the changes that just a few weeks had wrought. Where once children had lived in squalor and chaos, now he saw rows of orderly tents. Children who'd once begged and stole their food, now earned it by helping to serve others in the camps. He looked about, pleased that at least some good had come from the events of the past weeks. He gestured to the Captain of his guard and sent him to seek some residents of the camp. 'Yes' he thought 'at long last some peace and calm is being restored to these people most hurt by the folly of war'. As he looked about him he felt shamed that it had taken the words and deeds of one frail Hobbit to call the attention of the King to those who needed him most. He hung his head and hoped that his actions, both here in the camps, and on Frodo's behalf were not too little, too late.
After a few painful moments of reflection he looked up to see two familiar faces approach him through the gathering crowd. They approached and bowed reverently to their King. Aragorn smiled warmly and dismounted "Rumeil and Terren, now I'll have none of that my friends....why this is truly miraculous...you have worked magic here Terren, thank you ". Terren looked up to his King and smiled "Thank you sire for letting me 'elp the people of the camps...they are in your debt." The elderly healer said quietly as he wrapped an arm about Rumeil's frail shoulders. "As are we Sire" he continued with a smile.
Aragorn flashed a brief smile in return, but the fleeting peasantry never reached his eyes and he grew suddenly serious. "I am only sorry I did not know of your plight sooner Terren....for perhaps..." he furrowed his brow and frowned "perhaps I might have prevented the cruelty that has been visited upon your loved ones." Terren could only nod briefly and stare at the saddened countenance of his King. Rumeil, seeing the depth of his King's despair boldly walked forward and took Aragorns hand in his own small weak grasp "out loved ones my King" he whispered, eyes swimming in unshed tears. Aragorn took both of Rumeil's hands in his and stared to the lad's big brown eyes "yes Rumeil, our loved ones...ones who have been away from home too long....will you accompany your King as we seek to bring them to safety once more?" Rumeil looked hopefully to to Terren, knowing that with his fragile health, the healer would allow him to do only that which would not damage his health further. Terren hesitated, Rumeil was so frail and still coughed often from the lung sickness, but seeing the hope shining in the boy's eyes said "yes my King, Rumeil may come...on one condition Sire...." Aragorn smiled "yes, but of course he will have need of your company as well...." the King paused and looked to the hills beyond the river "I fear we will have need of a healer soon Terren, we may need the hands of several healers on this journey friend."
Gimli finished watering the pony and turned to make his way silently back to the campfire. He saw the hobbits huddled about the fire, quietly conversing. He was irritable, it was hot, all about him was dirt and inhospitable brush and worst of all he suspected that the hobbits were up to something. He moved as unobtrusively as possible toward the fire, trying to overhear their hushed conversation. Sam looked up and motioned for the others to be quiet as he saw the approaching dwarf, he slowly filled his pipe. Gimli cursed Sam's excellent hearing and came out of the shadows to the light of the fire and the scrutiny of his companions.
The Hobbits were quiet as Gimli huffed and grumbled his way into their midst. The disgruntled dwarf looked from one bland Hobbit expression to the next, finally growling in exasperation "out with it now, ye've got a plan afoot or I'm an Elf". Pippin, wide eyed and innocent in his delivery " A might short for the fair folk....but perhaps the heat has shrunk him then?". Sam smiled and Merry laughed out loud, Gimli hrumpfed and glowered a moment before he he finally guffawed loudly and slapped Pippin on the back good naturedly "the fair folk'll never have such beauty in their midst master Hobbit". The stocky dwarf laughed a few moments with his traveling companions.
As their laughter faded into the darkness of the velvety night about them, Sam said steadily, his voice rising and gaining strength with the certainty of his words "he's there Gimli...he's there and he's in pain...I have to go back." Gimli looked sadly at the long faced Hobbit lad beside him "now Master Gamgee, we have been back ta that quarry twice in the last three days, ye'll not go back again without arousing suspicion...and we've seen no sign of Child nor Hobbit on either visit." Sam shook his head vehemently " ye didn't see a sign, but in me heart Gimli, me heart knows he's there...he's there and he's in pain" Sam looked beseechingly to the grumpy dwarf "I know my heart Gimli...he needs me. Let me go, let me go under cover of dark and search him out." Sam grabbed Gimli's sleeve, his voice and eyes desperate "ye have ta let me try. He's close ta darkness Gimli...I'm fearing he's givin' up. Please, help us ta help him?"
The grim faced dwarf looked from one anxious Hobbit face to another, he'd promised to watch out for the hobbits, but he knew their stubborn nature all to well. He sighed deeply and made a choice, he would help with what he knew, rather than hide from what he knew to be the truth. He pursed his lips, and nodded slowly "aye Master Hobbit, ye can count on Gimli son of Gloin ta aid ya in what he knows tis right."
Frodo had drifted off to sleep briefly, but found himself painfully awakened by the muffled sound of Rosetta's cry and a sharp violent kick to his ribs. His eyes flew open in surprise at the pain and he heard Rosetta cry "no, don't you go hurtin' my Sir Frodo". Out of the corner of his eye, eyes clenched shut in pain from this newest agony, he watched as Rosetta spun in the arms of the man who held her and bit down with all her might upon his hand. The surly man holding her yelped in surprise and shoved her roughly across the room to land in a shaking heap upon the floor. Frodo shook off his pain and fatigue and struggled to sit up, wrapping his arm protectively about the ribs where he'd just been kicked "she's but a child" he said, steely voice full of anger and disdain "if it's pain you must inflict, let me be your target." His blue eyes were wide and blazed in anger as he issued his challenge, his emotions gave him strength and he felt a warmth and determination fill him.. Several men, clustered towards the doorway, stood still and stared awkwardly at the visage of strength coming from one so small, not knowing how to answer such a challenge.
A sudden snort of laughter could be heard and as Frodo looked to the group of men, he watched as the men moved aside and a lone figure strode into view. He squinted, unable at first to make out the features of the man coming towards him...tall, lean and cruel, the man's hard grey eyes and lankly brown hair brought a fearful memory to Frodo's heart and he felt his breath quicken. His anger, an emotion that had cast a warmth upon him seconds ago, deserted him and he trembled as his memories stripped him of his fury. The voice came closer "Cap't Faramir can't save ya now halfling...we meet again, jest as I'd promised...and I've got matters ta settle with ya.". The grim faced man, thin lips sneering over yellowed teeth knelt before Frodo and locked his hard gaze upon the shaken Hobbit. Frodo shrunk back as far as he could, but the man grabbed him roughly by the neck and pulled him forward until his face was a mere inches away and the foul smell of unwashed body and rotted teeth nearly overwhelmed the Hobbit. Frodo fought the urge to retch and tried to look defiantly at his tormentor.
Anborn leered suggestively at the Hobbit before him and with his knife in his other hand ran it from Frodo's smooth cheek, to the opening of his shirt as he slowly cut first one, then two buttons from the shirt and ran the tip of the knife in sharp lightly piercing trails around his nipple. Frodo reached to his neck, trying to lesson the man's grip about his neck, but so entranced was Anborn by the sight of the hobbit's fear and the trail of blood upon his fair chest that he'd not realized how tightly he squeezed until Frodo'd finally been forced to break the stillness with a gasp. Anborn had smiled, a slow and knowing smile as he viewed the pain of the Hobbit. With a suddenness that left Frodo reeling, Anborn dropped the knife and tangled his hand in the Hobbit's curls, forcing his head back he pulled his face forward and as he squeezed the hobbit's neck with less force he whispered "something to remember me by". He kissed Frodo's trembling lips gently, allowing himself to savor the feel and taste of the revenge he'd sought for so long, while his hand let lose the hobbit's matted curls and traveled down the open length of the frail and blood speckled chest.
Frodo, sensing his chance, pulled Anborn's hand from his neck and pulled away "you disgust me you loathsome creature, remove your hand at once" he snapped, enraged that once more he was made to feel shame for the sport of another.. Anborn rocked back on his heels in surprise as his men snickered behind him. Anborn coldly fixed his stare upon the men clustered behind him and as one, they stopped snickering and waited for their orders. The man turned once more to Frodo "you have more spirit now than the last time we met halfling, no matter" he said as he abruptly backhanded Frodo's face and roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet "I shall break you" he promised "you shall see. I will enjoy getting reacquainted with your charms, oh yes I should like to get to know you much better this time" he sneered. Anborn threw Frodo to several of his men and the Hobbit stumbled upon his knees, feeling stabbing pain as his foot was slammed to the floor of the cave. "Take him to Dalmer's rooms" Anborn ordered. Frodo stiffened and felt himself dragged from the children's cavern while he fought with every ounce of his waning strength. He flailed his arms and legs wildly, and was dimly aware of Rosetta's crying as Anborns men dragged the struggling Hobbit through the darkness of the caves.
The pain from Frodo's foot was incessant, a throbbing reminder of his fading hope and will, but it was nothing compared to the pain of his spirit. He knew struggling to be futile, cursed his frailties, but could not allow himself to be abused once more to satisfy the lust of another. He flailed wildly, arms and legs going mad in their attempts to break free while his captors only laughed as they commented upon his fairness, speculated about the taste of his lips and the sport he'd soon offer their leader. Frodo was once more trapped in evil dreams and could see only the dark shadows of his fears as he was once more in Cirith Ungol. He felt again the the spiraling terror of helpless shame as once more the sensation of violent hands upon him, roughened nails tearing and putrid teeth biting filled his senses as he was violated for the foul sport of Sauron's servants.
He shook himself free of that memory, fought to regain his present and redoubled his efforts to gain his freedom. He felt tears come to his eyes, he could not survive this, would will himself to die rather than endure the agony of another's degrading passion. His tears became a mark of hatred, he'd fought for a world of renewed hope, a world of peace and fairness, not this. His hatred for the world of men filled his soul and he felt a part of himself die, wither and retreat as his faith in the goodness of the world was shattered. He continued to fight, doing all his weakened body could to halt the progress of the men who dragged him to his shame.
He was tossed, with less regard than one would give a dead animal, to the wall of a dimly lit cave. He rolled protectively to a ball and did all he could to stay away from the hands that sought to hurt and imprison him. His efforts were to no avail for soon he was grabbed once more, hands bound to ropes that hung from a beam above his head, he was suspended, feet dangling in the air.
He shook with fear, but willed himself to breath deeply, to steady himself, knowing that Anborn's lust would be fueled by his sounds of pain and despair. He searched his mind, looked for quiet and peace filled memories, a sanctuary in which to hid himself from the pain he knew would soon be his.
He dimly heard Anborns heavy breathing, smelled his foul breath and suffered long the intrusion of his kisses, all the while keeping his eyes closed. An evil laugh, the tearing sound of his shirt being torn from his body and the crack of leather were heard as searing pain signaled the true beginning of his torment. He bit his lip, willing himself to be still, demanding that his voice do what his heart could not, keep from crying out and telling the world of his agony. Crack after crack filled the air and Frodo felt the moistness of blood run in ticklish rivulets upon his back, and he could hold no more his agony as he groaned aloud. The sound of The hobbit's pain incited Anborn's feral lust and Frodo was soon aware of air upon his body where he'd previously felt covering, he endured roughly grasping hands and a tear ran down his face as the indignities began.
He had no world to save now, no quest to guide him, no friends to protect and as his body was violently assaulted by the angry and pain inspired lust of Anborn, he felt his very soul rip asunder, and he screamed. His cry was filled with the agony of loss, lost dreams, lost hopes, lost will to live. As his cry lost momentum and his body sought the relief of unconsciousness he whimpered and his eyes rolled back into his head. Anborns slaking desires were reignited and the agony began anew.
It was this primal cry of fear, senseless pain and ultimate despair that awakened another Hobbit
from his dreams several leagues away. Sam sat up, none of the others moved, but he had heard his master's cry for help. He felt the agony of his friend's shame and tears filled his eyes "hold on Mr. Frodo...your Sam is nearly there...don't give in to them...don't let go...hang on ta yer hope" he whispered . He sat up, clasped his hands about his knees and rocked himself back and forth, willing his soothing movements and words to reach the one he needed so to save, and he waited for the light of dawn.