Faces of War
Chapter 36: Realizing
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just passionate about writing with them! Thank You JRR for your inspiration!
Moonlightshadow....Thank you for "hanging in" with the story.....we are on the verge of rescue...you must believe me....the next chapter should do it!
endymion2....Anborn learned of Frodo's "gift" when Frodo told him, and again when Frodo promised he'd not use the gift to keep first Rosetta, then later Qurag safe. Opiates, given in gradually higher doses to foster an addiction that his captors/owners intend to use to control the hobbit....great deductive reasoning! No I am not getting "tired" of bringing more imagery to Frodo's abuse....just trying to give the sense of day blending into day, torment into torment to build your feeling of Frodo's helplessness....to kind of de-personalize Frodo, like he is trying to do to survive...yes I always found Sting's glow fascinating and wondered if it glowed only in response to Orcs or to the evil that surrounded Saurons minions....Aragorn has finally "stepped up" in this chapter!
TTTurtle....thanks so much for your persistence! Yes, our boy is in for some more difficult times....his mind is also soon to be beset by pain and loss...as if it's no enough to torture his body and soul....I'll try to update weekly....but my chapters seem to be getting longer! I'm working on a "pre-prequal" to this ( takes place before "gift of the Valar" which was the first story written)..."River of Tears"....so I want to wrap this up and get started with Frodo's childhood.
BraellyLeatherleaf.....wow, I must say your review was quite lengthy...thanks for taking the time! Yes, the rescue is imminent....but Frodo is becoming slowly a little bit more unglued by the effect of the opiates given to him by Anborn...you'll meet another "evil doer" in this chapter! Rosetta is a disarmingly cute age five....mentioned way back in the first 6-7 chapters...Sam and Qurag shall have to find some common ground eh? I will try to add a chapter a week...but my chapters seem to be getting longer! Thanks for being patient....I'll try not to leave you "dangling"...thanks for the great review!
Kellie...I agree, enough already....hang on through this one last chapter...leading up to the climatic rescue in chapter 37...almost there luv, hang with me a bit longer eh?
The sound of morning doves and the restless snorting of their many mounts filled Aragorns conscious thoughts as he walked, lost in his thoughts, back to his tent. All his training and many years spent in the guardianship of others taught him that now was a time of violence, that now he should marshal his troops and set forth to find and crush the perpetrators of such evil. As his steps brought him closer to the river and it's gently gurgling life signs, the King thought upon the form and presence of the ringbearer. He remembered Frodo, suspicious and wary in Bree, brave and barely clinging to life during the long march from Weathertop, gentle and indulgent with his mischievous cousins, warm and protective of Sam and his genuine love and reverence for all things in need of protection. As the King walked, he remembered the many faces of Frodo; defiance, love, fearfulness, timidity, scorn, bereavement and the wisedom of the ages....all these faces and more were those of the quiet hobbit upon whose shoulders the fate of Middle Earth had rested. Yet, as he dwelled upon his memories of the past, the vision of Frodo's kind and gentle demeanor came once more to him, the face of the caring Frodo, shone through his memories and he knew, he knew beyond any doubt what Frodo would have him do. He whirled mid stride and sought his tent. The day was growing old and he had little time to accomplish all that needed to be done to save the gentle goodness of the one hobbit who might yet bring calm to his soul and his kingdom.
The King entered his tent and quickly brushed aside the trappings of his throne while refusing the help of one of his many man servants. He, with a quirk of an eyebrow and the wave of a hand sent his servants from him and alone with his thoughts set with quiet determination upon his one task. He knelt to take worn and faded garments from his travelers chest, his hands paused for the briefest of moments as he felt once more the weathered and enduring fabric of his oiled cloak and the hardiness of his leather leggings. As he set the velvet and silken fabrics of his royal linage aside, he knew that his life as a Ranger would be the course upon which the future of his kingdom would lie, the only map that would lead the Ringbearer back to those he loved. With nary a backwards glance, the King of Gondor slipped soundlessly from the slit he cut in the rear of his royal tent.
Sam dismounted from Bill and stood upon the ridge above the stumbling Orc in his sights. "Tis fair strange" he mumbled to himself as he watched the wild eyed and seemingly disoriented Orc weave upon his unsteady legs across the harshness of the barren landscape, looking as if at any moment his legs would collapse beneath him. "What drives you on in such a state?" the sandy haired Hobbit wondered as he watched the staggering Orc fall at last upon his knees. He grimaced as he watched the swarthy skinned creature crumple to the dust, fighting the urge to feel sympathy for a being clearly in such pain. He watched from a distance as the still form, the silent and still figure in the distance lie there, silent and motionless in the heat of the day. When moments had gone by and no change had been evident in the creature lying upon the ground, the determined hobbit moved slowly forward, he knew that somehow this abomination had played a part in the life of his master, and he moved forward to discover the meaning behind his feelings.
With stealth and caution the sandy haired hobbit crept to within a foot of the dark skinned and scarred form, whose body upon closer inspection was a myriad of cuts, bruises, whip weals and gouges. Sam shook his head in disgust, he knew from his hours spent in Cirith Ungol as he'd searched for his master, the foul manner that Orcs had as they 'pleasured' one another. He recognized some of the same brandings and markings as the ones he'd found upon Frodo on that horror filled day in the tower. As he stood, lost in his memories of that dark day he stared at the body before him, it was clear that many of the wounds were still fresh and had been delivered by creatures outside of the Orcs band and Sam wondered 'why'd they hurt him so and then let him leave'? As he inched still closer, with still no sign of movement from the body sprawled before him, Sam felt his hatred lessen and his good hobbit sense took over. ' 'Tis likely he's escaped the camp 'tis all...and that bein' true, he may have word of Mr. Frodo' he thought to himself and he walked slowly around the figure at his feet debating what he should do next. Sam took one last look at sting, the gleam of it's polished surface decided him and he reached to his belt to undo his water skin.
As Sam transferred sting to his other hand to more firmly grasp the waterskin he felt his arm grasped roughly, his wrist jerked abruptly and sting was knocked to the ground as he found a length of dark sinuous arm wrapped about his waist and one arm twisted behind him. "I help you, you not hurt Qurag" a guttural voice whispered, it's raspiness a reminder of how badly the waterskin was needed. Sam struggled but a moment, his small scale hobbit body no match for the wiry strength of the body holding him. The full impact of the Orcs words came to him and he seemed frozen in his wonder, he could understand the harsh voice in his ear, he recognized the flow of words awkwardly spoken in common tongue. He stopped struggling as all his thoughts came together upon several meaningful points, this Orc spoke a man's language and was offering help. "Where is he?" Sam whispered and then coughed as he felt himself squeezed "what 'ave ya done with Master Frodo?" he asked suspiciously. Qurag carefully eased his grip, allowing the hobbit more room to breathe and he answered " men take, men take to Corsairs to...to..." the Orc paused as he searched for the right common tongue words " to act as snaga for lonely nights". Sam's quickly indrawn breath, trembling form and moan of "no, no...Mr. Frodo" was filled with pain and despair. Qurag released him and pulled the shaken hobbit down to sit beside him in the dust. Qurag was careful to ensure that the sad creature beside him had no access to his shiny weapon and he kicked sting away with his foot as he turned to look at the dusty hobbit beside him. " Friend not well, need help soon, near to death." he said gently. Sam , still struggling to find the purpose of the Orc's words asked "what do you know of it and why is he not here with you? Qurag looked to the west, the direction he knew he must soon follow, "he is brave, half high see inside my heart," he paused to take a deep breath and continued with a quaver of emotion coloring his words" no creature go past the look of outside," Qurag gestured to his scarred arms and darkened skin " except your friend." Sam, bowing to the despair of the moment nodded his head,and turned his face to bury his feelings in the roughness of his cloak, soft muffled sobs emanating from his worn travel clothes.
Sam felt his heart break, his thoughts whirled about but came back again and again to 'no, no....not again...and with out yer Sam ta help...I can't bear it' he moaned lost in his visions of evil times and the pain of past humiliation for his dear friend and master. Qurag carefully took Sam's hands in his and slowly pried them from his face. The Orc tilted his head to look to Sam's eyes "I help find friend, you be half high of peace...we find the little one together". Sam, numb from pain and fear dumbly nodded 'yes'then struggled slowly to his feet reaching out a hand he helped Qurag to stand. He wiped the tears from his eyes and bent to pick up the dropped waterskin and wordlessly offered it to the Orc. Qurag took the offering gratefully and drank for a moment as Sam watched him through the gathering dusk. They stood in the growing array of gathering evening colors, the skies brilliant blue, gold and rose hues capturing a newly reawakened spirit of hope. They looked sadly to one another, Qurag locked hazel eyes to black as he said "Ringmaster hurt, seeks peace soon, we go to river.....that is where we find him." Sam nodded grimly, but with a quick glance to the Orc's many hurts silently took a wad of handkerchief from his pocket and began to wash the worst of his ailments...he wondered if he made the right choice, but there was something compelling in the words of the Orc and Sam knew that his Frodo would find help from those most caught up in the painful aftermath of this war. As Sam carefully washed what blood and filth he could from the scarred and pitted skin of the Orc, Qurag shared what he could, with his limited language, of all that had happened in the last few days.
Anborn tucked the sweet smelling paste back into it's well oiled pouch and tied it once more to his saddle. He stepped back from his horse and looked about him, this was the place he'd been instructed to find, he was certain of it. "But where are ya ye damn cosair wastrel?" he muttered under his breath as he looked over the jagged cliffs to the winding river several hundred feet below "where are ya?". A loud grunt of laughter and a barely audible moan came from the brush near to the stand of trees behind him and Anborn whirled about in anger "lay off Thad, we've ta leave something for Captain Keldor ta take back ta his crew, now back off I tell ya, he doesn't even know yer there so don't be wastin yer time", he snarled impatiently. Thad laughed "aye, he doesn't know now, but I'll be waitin' fer him ta wake up Cap't" the ruffian said with a snort of contempt as his foot kicked Frodo once more. Anborn shoved his hand under Thads nose "Does this smell mean nothin to ya? Yer as dense as them left ta fight with my Brother." Anborn snarled angrily as he waited for Thad's reaction. Thad took one wiff of the odor emanating from his leader's hand and backed off with a look of fear in his eyes. " 'tis the death flower, ye've given 'im... the death flower" he said with fear and respect mingled in his husky words.
The scornful ruffian yanked his hand back and walked over to the prone form lying trussed at his feet "aye" he said "Keldor wants no trouble from his newest prize, hoping to use 'em as barter in his upcoming war with Gondor" he smiled sardonically "so I gave the half high twice what I were told ta....no trouble means more money for us. Now Thad, leave off I tell ya and get Mendal ta help with the cooking of the night's meal" he said scowling. Anborn watched Thad stomp off to find wood for their fire while the leader of the group sat down beside his prisoner. He leaned over and gave the frail shoulder of the hobbit a hearty shake to see if he could be roused from his stuporous slumber, he elicited just a faint moan. 'By Arda, I'd better not a killed this troublesome piece of baggage' he found himself thinking 'or there'll be no money, nor ship and slaves from the Corsair.' He leaned over and brought his face next to the Ringbearer,eyes searching the slack and drooling lips, the turgid skin and hearing the shallow breaths, 'damn' he thought 'I may have already, perhaps I should have started with smaller doses.'
Frodo lay in drugged slumber. His drowsy mind was filled with the scattered images of what was to be, the possibilities of glories yet unseen, the chance to be with those he loved. In his deep dreams he saw once more the fair freckled skin, flashing green eyes and auburn ringlets of his love, Chrysanthemum laughing in the sunlight, scolding him in the kitchen, promising her troth to him upon the riverbank. She would be his reward, he knew that soon he'd be with her again. The blessings of Numenor would not be his path however, for try as he might he could not focus his intent and purpose, through the haze of his drugged state, to make clear his desires.'No matter' he found himself thinking, 'soon I will die the death of all creatures, no matter the gift of the Valar.' His mind drifted, rapidly whirling thoughts and images of what he hoped to soon be were mingled with the intermittent whisper and sensation of a young girl child and he found himself rocking his head back and forth to shed himself of this image. 'No' he thought, his weary mind wanted only the path he'd been promised, only to be once more with his Chrys, but the image of the young girl child grew more vivid and Frodo remembered the feel of her small hand in his, her whispered words of encouragement and the sensation of small lips brushing his cheek. He remembered his last vision of Chrysanthemum, her fading figure and softly demanding voice tell telling him of his path. A single tear coursed down his cheek and he knew he could not leave until he'd bid his Princess farewell.
He felt his body shaken and a distant voice calling to awaken him. He fought the heavy lethargy of his last dose of poppy and struggled to open his eyes. The voices grew louder and he felt his curls yanked hard as his head was forced to the side. He was aware of the shadow of two figures beside him, his eyes fluttered open to allow a brief glimpse of the outline of black boots and brightly colored breeches before his eyes grew too heavy once more to hold open. He heard harsh laughter and a gradually growing sensation of heat as his hair was yanked once more, his head forced harshly to the side. He struggled once more to open his eyes, managing to force them open just as he felt his ear grasped and searing pain ripped through him as a burning brand was jabbed through the delicate skin of his earlobe. His eyes flew open and he fought weakly through his drug encumbered state to move his head away from the source of his misery. More laughter and the brutal twisting of his ear as the heated metal post was fastened end to end, left to dangle as a golden hoop of pain and ownership. Frodo found his breath coming in gasps and thrashed desperately, with what little strength and purpose he had, to pull away from these hands that brought such pain.
Anborn nodded to Thad and gestured to Mendal to release his hold on the half high and he admired his handiwork before turning to the newest visitor to his camp. "Tis clear where he belongs now Keldor, that ring'll mark him to the end of his days." he said with a cruel grin. The dark haired, swarthy captain walked once around his newest acquisition, hand clasped tightly behind his back he nodded his appreciation. " a fine job of ringing 'im you've done....his fate is in my hands now, a corsair slave he shall be." The dark black eyes of Keldor were riveted upon his dearly bought slave "the 'King' of Gondor will search in vain for Frodo the Ringbearer...yet he is no more.... he is forever forward to be known as Firngil...one who no longer leads, he is now the 'dead star' of his kind...no longer will the peoples of freelands see him as their savior." The Corsair captain said solemnly. He took his eyes from the still twitching and pain wracked tremors of the hobbit to fix his gaze coldly upon Anborn " My people are most grateful for your service, you shall be rewarded with riches and passage south." The Corsair cap't turned abruptly from the men and knelt down to look over his prize once more. Frodo, eyes wide open at last, the shock of his newest torment reflected in his glassy stare, strained to inch away from the hands of the cap't. Keldor reached forward and firmly grasped the Hobbits shoulder with one hand as he coldly ran his other hand over the frail body of the Ringbearer. Frodo grimaced in pain as Keldor's hand came in contact with the filthy dressings of his infected leg." Ah yes Firngil, I see your pain....no matter my young slave, you'll have little need of this limb soon...and you'll not miss it" he said in a detached voice "you'll not even know yourself, as a slave of my men". The Corsair cap't continued his assessment, hands running over every limb and body part, as if checking lifestock for market. Before he stood to leave he reached to grasp Frodo by the chin and turned his face, cold black eyes staring into the unfocused watery blue of the Hobbit's gaze."You are a corsair slave now Firngil, your life shall depend upon your ability to please the men in charge, see that you do not disappoint and you may live" he told the Hobbit coldly. As the Cap't stood to walk away he heard a soft voice "I should...should rather die than please your kind" Frodo slurred brokenly. Keldor turned back, raising one eyebrow he smirked "you shall soon sing a different song my slave, a very different song." he said softly then began to laugh as he and Anborn walked away.
Keldor strode to his horse and untied another pouch from his saddlebag, he tossed it to Anborn. The Ruffian recognized the sickly sweet smell at once and he wrinkled his nose distastefully. "More?" he said "I've already given the half high so much he can barely see straight." Keldor nodded "yes, and you shall give him more." "More?" Anborn snorted "why it'll kill 'im if he takes too much more 'o this ." Keldor cocked his head to one side and smirked, a slow grin covering his dark features "no, it will not kill him....we shall do that in good time. What it will do is leave him begging for it, his body, at such a high dose is already tricking itself into believing he can't live without it. He will soon do anything," he paused and smiled evilly "anything to maintain a constant flow of this in his body." Keldor put his foot into the stirrup and gabbed the pommel of his saddle as he swung his leg up and adjusted himself in the saddle he said "I will be back in two days, that should give you enough time to build his bodies need for our 'enticement'. See that you don't miss a dose." he said curtly and with that and a flick of his reins he was soon gone from sight as he disappeared into the early evening shadows.
Aragorn was weary, he'd been astride Brego for most of the day. He shifted uncomfortably in saddle, stretching weary muscles as he looked down to his traveling companion, he thought of the last hours. Durzak had been easy to persuade, as the King had walked to the Orc's enclosure and had heard the struggles emanating from inside, he had known what he would ask the Orc. He had brushed his soldiers aside, and had been able to convince Durzak with very little effort to accompany him. "The Ringbearer needs you" was all he'd said and Durzak had stopped his struggling and motioned quietly for Aragorn to untie him. The King had done just that and they had slipped quietly from the confines of the camp. Aragorn had feared an argument with Faramir, so he had instructed his guards to tell Faramir that the Orc had been moved to a more secure location, by order of the King, and they had left. That had been 10 hours ago and he still was dutifully following the only lead he had to where the Ringbearer might be. Durzak walked steadily, head bowed and shoulders hunched in fatigue, he had but one mission, find his master. If the ringbearer were found, then that is where Qurag would be. He followed his instincts, and his nose, for he'd been trained as a tracker in Mordor, and he knew he'd never forget the scent of his master. They traveled on, through the lengthening shadows and into the dusk when suddenly Durzak halted and pointed to a spot in the distance "Qurag once there" he grunted.
Aragorn urged Brego on at a faster pace and soon reached the spot ahead of a stumbling Durzak. He got down from his mount and perused the ground before him carefully. There was sign of a struggle here. He walked about the perimeter of the sight, hoof prints from a pony, the soft padded imprints of hobbit feet and the disturbance of the brush that indicated an Orc had lay there. He tried to put the pieces together in his mind, it seemed unlikely that Frodo would have found a pony to ride upon, and besides the Hobbit prints were of two intact feet and he knew that Frodo was no longer so built. He turned as Durzak approached the sight and waited for him to sniff the surrounding air, time hung before him, the weight of his unasked questions heavy upon his spirit, he looked expectantly at the Orc. "Qurag here, not same little one" he grunted. Aragorn nodded and thought to himself 'it 'tis Sam then, Sam has found Qurag'. He wandered a bit past their struggle in the brush to a spot where small indentations splattered about were the telltale signs of water used to bathe, he knelt down and saw the faint blackened tinge of blood and realized that Sam was in some way aiding an injured Orc. Durzak sniffed the same thing and motioned they should continue. As the sun set the two determined travelers made their way through the barren landscape, each lost in their own mental image of pain and their need to rescue those they cared for.
The flickering light of the fire cast a small shadow upon the backdrop of rocks which sheltered them. Sam had reluctantly taken the advice of the darkly serious Orc he traveled with, and had decided that the danger of missing the trail was too great with the cover of darkness, so they stopped. Sam had heated some water, washed Qurag's gashes and cuts once more and set about bandaging him when a dark clawed hand reached gently to cover his. "Not need" he grunted "save for little one, he need". Sam nodded dumbly and wondered for the thousandth time what state he would find his dear friend in, if he found him. He put the cloths down and set about making a quick camp meal of a spit roasted ptarmigan. He handed a large portion to the Orc and looked away in disgust as his companion ate the carcass, bones and all. He tried to distract himself, to cover the disgust he felt watching this seemingly gentle Orc eat so efficiently and so he began to ask questions. He soon learned of Frodo's actions in the mine, his skill with the blasting caps, his defense of the children, his brush with death as the mine collapsed and his bravery while seeing Qurag left for dead in the vast desert falling slowly behind them. The steady heart of the Hobbit champion ached with pain for the master he'd grown through his young life to love. As he ate the remainder of his share of the meal he glanced up to the stars above. His heart began to race and a roaring filled his ears as he watched a lone star fall from the distant heavens never to grace the black velvet blanket above again. He stifled a sob as he had a sudden sense of fear and foreboding..... ' a star died master, a star died and I canna help but thinking it were your star I saw fall tonight...oh please Mr. Frodo, don't fall my friend, don't fall.'