Faces of War

Chapter 32: Remembering

Disclaimer: The characters and ideas from this story are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien, a man blessed with a truly engaging imagination....

This story will portray a character not seen since Gift of the Valar, a previous story.... may be helpful to read this story to make this chapter more meaningful and fun! Gift of the Valar is located right here on with a PG13 rating....it's about Frodo's early years with Bilbo....

Endymion2 sounds like you've had a "run in" or two yourself with despair! Frodo is resigned to his own fate and cares only that there is a life for the children....of course there are many who see a different future for the ringbearer! It will be a race against time to see who gets to shape the future of our despairing hobbit!

Iorhael ...Oh...Frodo will get all manner of attention in the chapters to come....but he will find the strength...his own or others...to help him through the darkest of times....

Shire Baggins....Frodo is nearing the end of his strength...he will undoubtedly receive just enough help to see him through to the darkest of possible endings....and who will be the one to find him first? Will Sam find his dear master? Will the King save the savior of his Kingdom? Will the evil of men still reign? Keep reading!

The men of the King's guard waited, the strength of their resolve matched by the fierceness with which they gripped their weapons. A thought, a wish, a collective longing filled the air...tonight, tonight they would have their revenge.

Aragorn waited, his tightly clenched jaw the only visible evidence of his inner unrest, he scanned the furthest hill awaiting the report of his scouts. He paced to the vantage point from which he'd spent much of the day, the spot from which he could see the unconscious form of the ringbearer. He'd watched the forlorn stillness of Frodo's body through the early morning coolness, through the relentless heat of the afternoon and into the dampness rising from the early evening. He'd watched and he'd waited, with every minute, with every glance and thought of his friend's suffering, he'd grown to hate with unyielding purpose, those who dared to bring harm to the Hobbit whose deeds had brought peace to all of Middle Earth. His painful hours of watching were nearly at an end, all he waited on now was word from his far scouts that Dalmer's camp was on the move. It soon would be his time to bring fear to the hearts of those who had brought such evil to one he loved, he would ensure that their payment for this offence would be just, but harsh. There was no room for mercy he decided, not when there were still men of such evil abounding in his Kingdom.

Sam had spent the day digging, the news from Galen had set the elves and the hobbits into a frenzy of activity. He looked up occasionally from his task to see the dust streaked countenance and grim expression of Merry or the red eyed and grief filled looks of Pippin, but he did not pause for long. He dug and scraped and moved rocks until his hands were a mass of weeping blisters and his back muscles screamed for rest. He vowed he would not rest, he felt that time was running out for his master and he allowed no thought of his own discomfort to penetrate as he pushed his mind and body to one single goal, moving dirt, sand and rock he worked only to find his master. Sam pushed himself until he was dizzy from lack of rest and his need for water, throughout the long hot afternoon he doggedly refused any attempt to sway him from his task until a voice at his side caught his attention.

"Master Hobbit, 'tis sick ye'll be making yerself with no rest....will ya not let one 'o the youngins ta spell ya a bit?" The burley blond haired guard asked quietly, leaning upon his own shovel. Sam did not even look up from his frantic attack upon the mounds of debris at his feet "there's a job ta be done here and I'll not rest 'till I can see with me own eyes that Mr. Frodo is freed....thanks fer yer offer Galen, but I'd be needin ta tend to this task, not to my own self." Sam grunted as his shovel hit a particularly hard section, the jarring motion of the shovel's handle ripping into his already abraded palms, he swore under his breath as a sudden tear came to his eye. Sam paused and panted to breathe his way through his newest hurt and felt the shovel taken gently from him as large work roughened hands guided him to sit on a nearby rock. Sam hung his head in defeat, his shoulders slumped and knees drawn up to his chest, he covered his face with his torn and bloodied hands and wept.

Galen motioned to one of the larger orphan boys to come and take Sam's place and gestured to Kylos to take several more lads to where Merry and Pippin continued to dig with what remained of their faltering strength. Soon Kilos returned with an equally exhausted pair of hobbits and motioned for Merry and Pippin to sit near to Sam. Wordlessly Merry accepted a cup of water while Pippin sidled up to Sam and wrapped his dusty arms about his friend. The three of them huddled a moment in their grief and Galen watched as the three friends drew comfort from one another. When Sam's sobs had been stilled and Merry had managed to get his friends to drink, Galen began, his man sized voice was surprisingly soft and the hobbits had to focus their full attention upon him to make out his words.

"Your Frodo 'tis truly one of the strongest lads I've every met, he'll fight his way through this...you have ta believe that." The guard paused and looked towards Kilos a moment, the wiry lad gave a sad smile in acknowledgment of Galen's words. Galen knelt down to be on the same level as the hobbits and Kylos sat down next to him as Galen continued "Frodo asked me ta help these children, he said that all that mattered was the life they would lead...and while I know ya think there's no hope, well Frodo would not let a one of us give up until these here young ones were safe...and he told me he'd not give up neither, not till he was assured that they'd be taken care of." Sam looked up from where he'd been studiously looking at his fists clenched in his lap "he's been hurt bad Galen, ye've not said it with yer words, but I know he's sufferin, I...I've seen him in me dreams....and I'm scared that he's close to despair...I know my Mr. Frodo, and when he says he's gonna do somethin', well he's about as stubborn as a Baggins can be....but..." Sam's voice dropped to a shaky whisper and Pippin reached to rub his friend's trembling shoulder "he's been endurin' more than a body ought ta bear, and his body tain't as strong as his mind at times...he's runnin' outta time....I jest know he'll be gone from us all in a matter of days if we can't get ta him soon." Sam's watery gaze held Galen's and the man nodded. "Aye, he's been hurt Sam....but what was it he was tellin' the Princess Kylos?" Galen paused waiting for Kylos to answer. Kylos had gone pale at the mention of his sister, but after a slight hesitation he answered quietly and with determination "that the bad men can only hurt ya on the outside, that no one can hurt ya on the inside if ya don't let 'em...and he believed it too Master Sam...he believed it and he made us believe it too....we'll find him, we'll find him and my sister" Kylos' eyes grew hard and angry "we'll find 'em...and we'll make yer Mr. Frodo well again, you'll see....Frodo tain't the only one about here that's stubborn."

After their talk with the guard and Kylos, Sam was still not convinced. He watched as the Orphan children rotated turns with the shovels, he allowed himself to be persuaded to rest, even managed a smile when Merry and Pippin's natural optimism surfaced as they bantered back and forth to one another, but he was still worried. He set about gathering the items needed for the evening meal, preferring to make himself useful, he took a break from the digging and mindlessly began to peel the taters and skin the coney's they'd need for supper. As his hands were busy, his mind was was racing, there was something....something that did not set well with him about their predicament, his evening visions did not seem to match up somehow with the events of the day and his unease grew as the daylight hours faded into evening.

Durzak stumbled in his weariness, his arms tightened reflexively about the small bundle in his arms, the girl child must be saved, Qurag had ordered it. The daylight hours faded into the softly hued colors of evening, but Durzak paid no heed to the pastel magnificence of the setting sun, he only felt relief that a whisper of a breeze seemed to be caressing his dark scarred skin. He looked to the unconscious bundle in his arms, she'd not opened her eyes for several hours and he was becoming desperate to find help. He stopped a moment to take in his surroundings, the dusty trails of the desert were slowly showing signs of growth, small bunches of scrub grass and hardy dwarf pines could be seen and in the distance the outline of taller pines were just becoming visible. He grunted his displeasure at the slowness of his pace and he continued on, toward the trees, towards signs of life and the hope that water would soon be found. He trudged on, the breeze he'd noted was becoming cooler and the air seemed flavored with a hint of moisture; he quickened his pace with the hope that nearer the stand of distant trees a body of water would be found.

Aragorn felt as if time was standing still, so badly did he wish to go to Frodo's rescue that he could nearly feel the satisfaction of the pain he would soon mete out to those responsible for his friend's imprisonment. His eyes never left the far distant figure hanging, strung between two far off trees, he was alert to any change or perceived movement in the limp form on the far hill, but there was no movement to track, no hope perhaps even of life in the quiet body displayed before him. He felt a sudden panic arise within him, what if it was too late? What if he'd erred in not being more aggressive in his reclaiming of the Ringbearer? What if Frodo was already beyond the realm of this world? He was just about to signal his men to ride forth at any cost when a curt whistle signaled the arrival of an incoming scout. This was it, the news he had awaited and he clenched his fist even as his other hand reached to the hilt of his sword, Dalmer and his ruffians would pay a hefty price for their misdeeds. He strode forward to meet the fast approaching scout.

"Sire" the soldier said, even as he pulled his horse to a stop both man and beast were sweat soaked from their hard ride, "sire, there is news of two figures approaching the camp..." The soldier paused to catch his breath and Aragorn raised a hand to signal that the soldier should calm himself before continuing. The soldier tried again "Sire, there is an Orc approaching and he carries with him the body of a small girl child." Aragorn was suddenly aware of others by his side, Faramir and Terren, with Rumeil at his side, had approached at the sound of the rapidly galloping horseman. Aragorn could see the elderly healers face pale in the waning light of the day and he turned to question the rider "How old would you guess the child to be?" he asked brusquely. The soldier looked to his King, eyes filled with pity "she looks to be no more than four or five summers my my King."

Faramir sprung into action and gestured to the guards now present to come closer "mount up" he called and added "bring three horses and the bag belonging to the healer." Horses were brought within moments and Aragorn pulled Rumeil up before him on Brego as Faramir and Terren readied themselves to ride out. The King could feel the slender child before him trembling in his fear "she will be saved Rumeil, you have my promise" he whispered as they rode from the camp into the early evening shadows to find the lone Orc and his precious cargo.

Qurag's eyes scanned the horizon, his eyes took in the same bleak scenery he'd been seeing for the last hour, dust, rock and dry brush. He looked to the ringbearer, his skin was dry and reddened from his hours in the sun, his head lolled back and bumped gently into the crook of Qurag's arm. The Orc noted that Frodo's form was still and had been limply quiet for the last few miles of travel, he tried to rouse him " wake, wake little one, wake....we talk now" he said gruffly as he stopped and set the bundle in his arms carefully down in the cool shadow of a large boulder. "Wake now, we talk" Qurag insisted again with a gentle shake of Frodo's shoulder. Frodo moaned and struggled to wake himself, his eyes flickered open briefly and he could see the shadowy outline of dark and pitted skin, a fierce some face and sharp teeth highlighted in the fading light. The Hobbit smiled softly at the face coming into focus, a face which in days past would have haunted his dreams and had now become in ways he could not explain, dear to him.

The Orc looked into the majestic blueness of the Hobbit's eyes and wondered how he'd been so ready to fill himself with hate for the children of men, how he'd been prepared to see only the differences between them. He felt a twinge of pain in his heart, his Snaga mother had held him, often trapped in a gaze this blue and this haunting, in her arms as she'd sung to him, told stories to him, loved him. His days with her as an Orcling had been all to short, he'd been deemed ready for his tasks while a mere youth of less than 10 summers, but he'd made certain that his rounds took him frequently to her cell, not wanting to lose her touch, not able to make the cruelty of his days fill the gap left by her warmth. He would be true to her memory, he would find a way to save the magic of this blue eyed storyteller, as he'd been unable to save the magic of his mother.

Frodo felt his his tenuous grip on his consciousness slipping in and out of his grasp, he took a deep breath and steadied himself as he fought to stay awake and fight back the waves of fatigue that waited to engulf him. "Qurag" he whispered "we are close to the river, I can feel it in the air" he coughed, a dry hacking cough that brought only pain and no relief. As his cough slowly faded he spoke again "the air 'tis slowly cooling, it carries a hint of water, I can feel it" he closed his eyes a moment and continued. "We musn't stop for long my friend, I fear that there is evil about us." Frodo reached to Qurag's hand, frail and slender fingers entwining themselves weakly amongst the darkened and seemingly clawed hand of his protector, he pulled the hand to his chest and placed it upon his heart "you are a friend of goodness Qurag, I feel it here" Frodo paused as he thumped their clasped hands upon his chest. Qurag grunted his assent and waited for the Hobbit to continue. Frodo swallowed weakly and licked his chapped and torn lips "If it goes ill with me, for soon I will come to my end of days Qurag, you, you must see this through...you must save yourself, see to the children and find a life, a home that allows you your choices....choose my friend, choose to do what is right, what you feel to be good...here" Frodo's last words were whispered as he held their entwined hands to his friends heart. Qurag felt his eyes suddenly become moistened, a strange wetness was upon his cheek and he nodded abruptly for he found suddenly he had no words to answer the heart of this creature beside him. Frodo smiled weakly and whispered "I shall rest, let me sleep for an hour my friend, no more....just..a ..little..rest" he mumbled with great effort as he dropped off once more. The Orc positioned himself next to the Hobbit, leaning back against a large boulder, he closed his weary eyes and waited.

In his fevered dreams Frodo heard singing, softly phrased words uttered with a melodic cadence that wove softly through his unsettled mind and brought a pang of bittersweet joy to his aching heart.

"Pilgrim how you journey,

On the road you choose"

The words of the softly sung melody seemed familiar in some way and as Frodo dreamed his mind was opened and his body was of a sudden transported to a soothing grassy meadow, a cooling breeze danced upon his skin and he found his feet entangled in the damp grasses of a riverbank path. He walked along the path, wet meadow grasses whipping against his calves as he made his way to a familiar clearing. The peace and gentle rhythm of his dream was a haven for his ailing body and he relaxed into it's all encompassing spell of rejuvenation and its quiet reminders of moments gone by. He found himself looking upon a large willow tree, it's sinuous branches tickling the ground as fingers dancing upon a keyboard. He looked for the voice of the singer, knowing with certainty that the voice behind the gently sung tune, was somehow present in this corner of his dream.

A silken mist seemed to flit about him, the sun's rays, cast between the tentacles of willow branches, shone in rivulets of sparkling luminescence. He followed the trail of softly sung words

"To find out where the winds die"

A shift in the breeze and there she was, the parting of the Willow's leafy curtain revealed fiery Amber and tawny gold curls, the promise of soft pink lips and the brilliance of emerald green as she turned to him. His heart wrenched in agonizing pain, he had forgotten the abruptness of her beauty and his tortured memories sought to lock her away once more. He clenched his eyes closed and willed her vision to leave him, as he tried in vain to shut the door on that corner of his heart left untouched, to shelter her from the obscene intrusion of the Ring and Sauron's evil mind games. Was this but another image wrought from the insidious evil he'd fought? But no, her song continued...

"And where the stories go...."

He felt tears come to his eyes as he looked fully upon her "Chrys" he whispered thickly "I've missed you so". He stepped closer and his tear filled eyes beheld the changes that time had brought to his beloved. Her rich gold and Amber hued curls were tarnished with fine lines of silver, her fine boned face was etched with lines of mirth and care. "Ye've been far to busy savin' the world Frodo Baggins ta be thinkin 'o the likes of me I'd warrent." she said with a quiet laugh. He stepped closer still, his fists clenched in the agony of his honesty "I've missed you every moment....wanted you with all that I was, and locked you away to be my private sanctuary in my times of greatest need" he whispered brokenly.

"Have ye now? Then why is I can bring ye no peace now? I promised ya light Frodo Baggins, I promised ta be yer light in this world.... or" she paused as her sharp green eyes bore into him "...any other. Did ye not care ta remember that, our promise ta one another, our promise of betrothal?" she asked, her voice becoming harsh in it's pain. He took one more step forward, bewildered and hurt he replied "You've not been witness Chrys, you've not witnessed all that I've seen, all the pain, all the ruin I have brought down upon my friends...all that I have left to me now" his face paled and he felt the anger drain from him "you've not seen the cruel ways of the world...how can you judge my thoughts?" He finished quietly, the despair and conflict in his soul apparent in each softly spoken word.

She tilted her head to one side and shook her head with gentle resignation. "Frodo my Love, I have longed so to be with you...to guide you on your path....but you must understand, I was not permitted." She reached a quiet hand upwards, straining to touch him "It was not allowed, your path has not been clear to me...nor to others here...all I can do is hope that you will soon choose the right path for both if us...do not give up my love, do not give in to the darkest of times when you still have so much to see and say and do to help those not yet strong...do not give up on the children Frodo, for they are the future we might have had together." He saw that her brilliance was fading, the warmth of her curls and the green of her eyes was dimming and he could see that in his fevered dreams, he was losing once more that which he held most dear.

"No" he moaned "no, don't go Chrys" his words burst forth from him "don't leave me Chrys" he moaned as he rocked his head from side to side. She was fading and in his last look upon her he noted the twisted angle in which she sat and the way in which she fingered the intricately carved staff by her side. "No" the words burst from him louder as her beauty was nearly lost to him once more and as she faded entirely from his sight he sat up abruptly and shouted his despair as a pain wrought echo from the stars above "noooooo" he yelled, before he collapsed once more to the dusty ground beneath him "no" he whispered as a trail of silvery tears was suddenly noted upon his face.

Qurag had woken, from his own upright slumber, to the sound of the Hobbit's voice. He bent quickly over the fevered form of the frail fiqure beside him and noted the rapid breathing and tear stained face. He frowned at the pure heart wrenching pain he saw before him, the features of the Ringbearer were fixed to reflect his past despondency and his still tearing eyes and ragged breaths spoke of his inner agony. Qurag was just reaching to take Frodo in his arms, to attempt to use his own body to sooth the slender hobbit from his nightmare of pain, as he'd seen Frodo do for his princess, when he was abruptly halted in his movement. The cruel bite of a tight leather cord wrapping about his upper arms and the blow of a club upon his head rendered him motionless as he heard the husky laugh of a man. He tried in vain to shake off the tight restraint upon his arms as the cool bite of steel at his throat alerted him to the sharpened presence of a finely honed weapon of persuasion. He continued to struggle against the leather thong about his arms as the club fell once more upon his head and he felt his senses begin to slip as his sight grew blurry and blood flowed from his scalp into his eyes. He growled his displeasure and made to gain his feet as he heard the painful gasp and quiet voice of his companion. Turning from his focus upon his efforts to free himself, he looked to see the Ringbearer grabbed roughly by the neck and imprisoned against the broad chest of Anborn.

Lyrics from Enya's CD "A day Without Rain"