Faces of War
Chapter 40: Reflecting
Disclaimer....These characters and places are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien....a master craftsman with the written word!
TTTurtle: Thanks so much for your kind words....This chapter is a little longer and I used it to re-introduce some of the characters we haven't seen in a few chapters. Yes, Frodo is being seen as "the slave that got away" by the Corsairs....and they will not accept that too easily! Frodo needs his friends more than ever now...but not as much as will worded huh? Thanks! Let me know if there is too much word/phrase repetition....I am working on varying my vocabulary! Frodo has not been healed by the drug....his septic blood poisoning has just not been as painful because of his "clouded" mind! I'm glad it's still thrilling....in order for me to get the characters back to Minas Tirith....I'll need another 10 chapters I should think....so hang in there!
CLotr: I am sorry that once again this chapter took longer than I'd expected....it hard writing to get the characters back together! Sam is ever so ready to find fault with Aragorn now...you shall have to keep reading to see how Aragorn regains his trust!
Endymion2: Yes, I am re-gathering the forces....it's been a tough couple of chapters to write...keeping the logistics straight and plausible....I can see why it took Tolkien so long to write his story....but bless him for keeping with it! You'll see Aragorn , now that he's gotten Frodo down from the mountain, start to tend to the needs of his patient!
Althea.....Thank you so very much for reading....I hope you continue to enjoy my ramblings! Frodo is a wreck right now....but at least he is unaware of his agony...poor Sam has to watch his master suffer! Sam is struggling with the whole "trust" issue right now....but you are right, Frodo needs the love and care of many right now!
A cooling breeze gently caressed the the slender and stoic features of the the fair haired hobbit, it's touch a whisper of relief from the heat beckoning to them from the distant river. Pippin shifted a bit in his seat, twisting about to watch the sad and serious faces scattered upon the gathering of children perched about the cargo in their wagon. He found himself wondering if the hollow eyed faces before him even remembered how to smile for they'd lived immersed so completely in the hatred of war. His wandering visage fixed upon the lad Kylos, their eyes locked a moment and he found himself drawn into the depth of the steady boys gaze. He saw in the smokey and distant sparkle of his eyes a hardened and stubborn young lad whose demeanor spoke only of dogged perseverance and righteous certainty. ' So determined ye are lad....so certain that there 'tis no other path', he found himself thinking as he spun back to look to his cousin and companion wishing that he too could hold to such a vision. Without meaning to, he sighed aloud and felt Merry's eyes boring into him.
"Bear up Pip, we shall be to the river in a matter of hours.' he said, his voice sounding gravelly and unsteady from their many hours of quiet travel. "Aye, I know we shall be there soon Mer, it is, well it's just the not knowing that is so hard, the past days, well, we've had a task ta tend to, we've had the trading, the spying, the digging....well, now it 'tis just the travelin' towards somethin' that might not be there....well, 'tis got me all caught up inside I guess. I don't like worrying so much for Frodo, yet of late it seems all we can do." he said quietly, staring intently at the side of his cousins face. Merry bit his lips and fixed his brows in a sternly fixed frown, eyes not leaving the rocky path before him, his face folding in upon itself in his worry "Frodo 'tis strong Pip, in all the years I've known 'em, I never knew him ta give up on what was right fer others, even if he went without himself in order ta make certain their success." Pippin nodded, he knew well the fight Frodo had in him when justice was not equally available to all "yes Mer,the thought of that 'tis fine, if Frodo is with the lass as we knew him ta be days ago, if he 'tis seeing that the fight is not yet over...but what if he is alone Mer, what if he sees that his part in this..this world we fought for....what if he thinks his part is done?" Pippins voice had gradually increased in volume and Merry heard some shuffling behind him and he turned to rapidly "shush" his favorite cousin. "Not so loud" he hissed as he tilted his head back and quickly quirked his neck towards the back of the cart "'tis hard enough they've had it Pip....I'll not bring 'em more worry...so keep yer voice down or yer worries to yerself" he hissed. Pippin nodded once slowly and sadly and turned to look to the other side of the wagon, searching for some sign of hope within himself to latch on to and to make his peace with.
The miles rolled away beneath them, and Pippins unease remained sharply focused, he could not shake the fear that was descending upon him and he looked to the reaching of their destination with dread. He didn't know if it was his Tookish 'sight' or the days of ceaseless worry creeping from his heart to his mind, but he knew that his beloved elder cousin was fighting, fighting not for others, but for his very reason to exist. He glanced sideways to Merry, who was clearly from the frown upon his face, keeping company with his own worries. 'Ah Merry' he thought 'ye live in the world of the practical and the pragmatic my steady cousin, ye'll have no comfort for my fanciful visions" and so knowing, Pippin opted to keep his fears to himself.
Kylos too watched the miles roll past, his thoughts focused only on the hope of finding his sister alive. He looked about the wagon, his eyes taking in the rag tag group of companions who were the closest thing to family he'd had in a long time, and he frowned as the flash of a new worry flickered within him. 'Will I lose them too?' he thought 'will there be a place for us to remain together when we return to the Minas Tirith?'. Looking at the children in his wagon and then behind him to the second wagon, he knew the answer to be 'no', there would be no family ready to take them all, no home large enough or well off enough to provide for all. Once more he would find those he cared for taken from him, would be powerless to change the future and would feel the full weight of his adult sized responsibilities. He felt yet another twinge of pain in his heart and he quickly hardened himself, slammed shut the door of his emotions and unable to bear the thought of one more hurt he sat up a bit taller and resolved to think only of his family 'I must look first to the care of Rosetta and Rumeil' he thought 'it 'tis what Papa asked of me'. He fought the urge to think of his past life, to think of the days when he bore only the weight of his burgeoning teen years, to think of a time when he was free to only grow as a child, not to live in the worrisome days of adulthood, where every moment layered loss upon fear in a seemingly endless spiral of uncertainty. Kylos, knowing his thoughts of past days to be a fruitless pursuit, slammed shut yet another door on his past and locked away the memory of his younger, less care worn days forever as he looked only to the possibilities and practicalities of his future.
The weary healer brushed back the dark curls of his patient, his movements soothing and efficient as he checked the vital signs of the young boy. The lad had not yet awoken, in his three days since his recovery from the ruffians he'd only slept, lost in dreams of fear and distrust which caused him to fever and tremble at the touch of any upon him. Terran shook his head in dismay, he felt that if the lad did not stir soon, that he'd never have the strength to awaken again. He looked to the fair skin and dark silky curls spread about the pale faced boy beside him and wondered what horrors lurked in his memory, what pain had he endured as he'd spent his days dangled as bait before the King and his company. Terran lifted the slender wrist of the young one to take his pulse and he carefully caressed the tiny hand within his own, mindful of the still healing abrasions on his wrists, he watched the face for any sign of awakening or movement. The cart, covered against the heat of the day, cast a pattern of shade and gently moving patterns upon them in the shadows of the canvas.
Terran turned to seek another infusion of feverfew and willow bark to help reduce the heat that burned within his patient and he carefully lifted the lad's head to bring a warmed infusion to his lips. The boy moaned at the movement, but obediently opened his lips and with some murmured words of encouragement, swallowed several gulps of the offering before him. Terran encouraged him with gentle words 'there ye go lad, nice and easy my boy, yes....yes swallow slowly now for this will aid ye.' As Terran twisted from the lad to refill his now empty cup, he felt his hand suddenly grabbed and turning sharply he found himself looking into the wide and haunting brown eyes of his quiet patient.
The young lad stared with eyes wide with horror and distrust. Terren moved his head slowly from side to side, denying the evil assumptions in the lads haunting gaze. "Rest easy my boy, 'tis safe you are now....you travel with the King's guard lad," Terren paused to look more deeply to the lads eyes, to gauge the receptiveness of his advances. Finding no softening in his patient's grip, the elderly healer continued "yer safe, the men that took ye from the caves are gone now...the King himself rescued you from their clutches." Terren waited anxiously for a glimmer of hope in the boy's eyes, a whisper of acceptance from his lips, but none came. Time hung heavily between them. The frightened boy cast his eyes about the shaded confines of their wagon, his fear filled glances taking in and appraising all he saw before him. Terren was glad of the boys caution, his careful steps forward from the pain of his captivity spoke of a strong will and of self control taken seriously.
Garth glanced around him, the abundance of supplies about him spoke to the truth of the old mans words, but he'd been fooled before and would not allow himself to make such a mistake again. He stared with eyes squinted against the sudden infusion of light into their shaded haven as he came to realize the steady movement of the cart had slowed and the flap covering the back of the wagon had been, with a rustling of leathers, flung aside. The old man broke eye contact with him as another voice, body yet unseen, joined the quiet of their space. "Lord Faramir says I am to rest a while with you and the boy Terran, I fell to sleep upon his horse" a breathy high pitched voice proclaimed with a giggle. Garth was frozen by the tone of the childish prattle, he felt a stabbing pain and the blackness of remembrance wash over him as he saw through the mist of eyes closed against his sorrow, the figure of another small lass running to greet him through the meadow. He felt a sob catch in his throat and the warmth of his own tears upon his cheek. He clenched his eyes shut even harder, willing himself away from his pain and a small hand was there upon him, wiping away his sadness, a small warm hand whose feather light touch sent images of Kindra, his beloved baby sister Kindra, running through his mind. He savored the touch, relishing the thought that all perhaps had been a dream and that he would truly wake to find the dark haired mischievous sister of his heart there beside him.
Dark blue eyes, innocently searching his face gave no quarter as he found himself looking hopefully to her, and realizing the folly of his hope, he shyly averted his gaze as she continued to stare. "Don't be sad' the blond curls with the dark sapphire eyes said softly "we will be your family...you'll see, we will all be together again soon" she said with quiet certainty. Terran reached a hand to ruffle the little lasses curls "Aye, now young lass it's a sleep yer both a needin' or I'm no healer....move over then lad and let my Rosetta in to lay her head down fer a spell." Garth, feeling rather awkward, moved his aching body aside a measure to allow the little wonder before him room upon the cot. His deep brown eyes were wide with suspicion and unease, but he moved aside none the less. Rosetta snuggled in to his side and turned a fair cheek upon the pillow to better face her companion. "What 'tis yer name? I am called Rosetta and this" she said gesturing to the grey haired one seated beside her 'is Terran"....we travel with the Lord Faramir to find the King and Ada Frodo, my Ada Frodo has been taken by the bad men. He 'tis a hero to all in Gondor and the King counts him among his friends" She paused a moment to catch her breath and to allow herself to stare to the face of the child beside her. Getting no response, other than a bewildered quirk of the boys head, she continued in her childish disclosure " you were made ta seem as our Ada Frodo and the King set watch upon ya as you were tied upon the tress....he didn't take his eyes from ya, he was that certain ye'd be the answer to all out hopes".
The healer noted the wince of remembered pain upon the lads face and laid his hand upon Rosetta's shoulder to gain her attention "Now lassie, it's sleep the Lord Faramir sent you here for, not to talk our new friend here to distraction....shut yer eyes young one, we'll be to the river in but a few hours." Garth blanched at the thought that they'd soon be back within reach of the men who'd hurt him before. He trembled a bit in his memory and fear. Rosetta, shrugging off Terran's warning, watched the look of pain cross the lads face and she hastened to reassure him "now ye mustn't be afeared, Lord Faramir will keep us safe....it 'tis his mission to make this land safe for the future citizens of Gondor....he's to be the new Steward now that the Lord Denethor is gone from us....". Garth listened to her childlike words with a certain amount of distrust and amazement, she spoke of the world of the royals as if she knew them all herself, even talking of a King, which he knew Gondor did not have. He did not trust himself yet to speak and he looked to the old man beside them in pity, did he not realize that this young one, whom he so clearly adored, was not quite right in her mind and in her words? He stared wide eyed and watched the lasses lips move as only some of her words registered through his muddled thoughts "...the King 'tis a hero....." "....Ada Frodo 'tis known to the elves, he has kin in Rivendell and speaks in the words of the fair folks..." "The bad men are in league with them you know..." Garth, his interest piqued, shook off his confusion and listened more attentively now. Terran, seeing the calming affect Rosetta's steady stream of conversation was having upon the lad, ceased his urging for quiet and allowed her endless words to flow forth.
Garth thought of the 'bad men' whom the little lass was speaking off and he listened more closely..."I was awake when the Lord Faramir thought me sleeping and I heard him say to his Captain that the Corsairs were havin' a part in all this, them, their dark frightful ships and murderin' ways...." Garth watched as Rosetta shook her head "they are of the sea and the waterways, they'd want no part of us here....We are of the horse folks, we have naught but farms and horses about, what ships would we have for them?" The little girl laughed a little at the idea of her King sailing a ship in a land of horses. Rosetta's laughter slowly died as she saw the color drain from the skinny and darkly silent lad lying beside her, Terran saw the change in his demeanor as well and leaned forward to wipe a hand across his suddenly sweating brow.
Garth felt his world shrink to the flashing images of the past months and he trembled violently, his mouth working and whispers of 'no, no, not the water...no' his trembling voice broke with the hoarseness of his long silence. Images of swarthy bandy legged men laughing and making sport of the boys from the village came to mind, dying screams of lads he'd grown up with as they were tossed one by one into the depths of the lake with arms flailing and eyes wide in fear and horror, images of days spent forced to do their bidding with the lick of the whip the only reminder to guide him to his tasks. He knew the men the lass spoke of, he knew from his hours spent about their campsites as they'd pillaged village after village, the prize that was to be theirs for the taking, the reward promised them by men who masqueraded as solders of Gondor by day and who lied, raped and killed by night....he knew of the ships taken and the revenge sought. He knew of Dalmer and of his bond with Keldor, captain of the Corsairs. He lived once more the horrors of those months, never knowing when it was to be his day to die, working only to please those who controlled him, fueled by the hope that one day he'd meet up with some real soldiers of Gondor and find word of his father, long since taken by the enscription of the Steward's provisioning officers.
He felt a soft and gentle hand upon his cheek once more, was aware of the sensation of wetness upon his face and found himself focused within the depth of her gaze "you are safe now" she whispered, and at long last he found words, a face, a vision he could trust and he let lose his tears. Terran watched in amazement as the little lass brought comfort to one nigh on twice her age and he wondered at the change in her since the little dark haired hobbit princling had come into her life. He had precious little time to wonder as the young lad, trying to calm himself from his tears and the shaking of his fear began to choke and gag upon his coughing and distress. Terran reached to quickly bring a basin to the boys side and he carefully supported the boy's head as he vomited what little food they'd managed to get into him into the confines of the empty bin. As the noise of the gagging, the choking, the coughing ceased a sad silence descended upon the wagon space. Garth collapsed back into his pillow weakly and turning his dark curls towards the lass beside him he whispered " my name is Garth, my village was destroyed by the Corsairs and all my family killed by those seeking revenge and wanting the return of their lost ships....this 'tis no tale little one, " he whispered weakly to the canvas of the cart, not able to bear to look into the eyes of another he confessed " I live only because I could swim while my friends could not" and he began once more to cry.
Rosetta, with a deeply saddened look of appeal to Terran, turned to the dark curls beside her and wrapped her arms about his neck as she attempted to pull his resisting frame closer to her comfort "the bad men can not have you on the inside Garth....they can only touch what you let 'em have....do not let them hurt your heart as they hurt your body" she pleaded softly. Garth slowly rolled back to face the wisdom of the lass beside him, he sought to warn her and grabbing Rosetta's hand he croaked " they will never stop seeking what is theirs...do not let them take us, have your Lord Faramir turn back, let us go no closer to the world of these deeply evil pirates....they have no heart, don't you see?" the lad pleaded. Garth's dark brown eyes were shining with the fullness of his unshed tears as he looked to the depths of Rosetta's eyes, he begged "let us leave this horrid land....the Corsairs know only want and blood and pain.....they feed on the hurt of others...do not give them the joy of our agony ....I cannot bear to see any more killing." So saying the slight lad collapsed once more in tears, and with even with Terrans strongest sleeping draught, he would be soothed to sleep only with empty promises and the softly sung elvish lullaby that Rosetta was able to finally recreate.
The sunlight flickered on the distant ripples of the swiftly flowing river, the shimmering and dancing flashes of random brilliance mesmerizing and yet somehow disquieting in their intensity. A brief breath of cool air washed in off of the water and Sam shifted to avoid the noxious odor that washed over him with overwhelming suddenness. His senses were sharpened, all of them ever ready and attuned to the needs of his master and he grimaced in distaste as he recognized the pungent odor of septic flesh. He waved away the small collection of flies seeking to make their homes in the rotting wound upon Frodo's foot and looked worriedly to where Aragorn and Qurag stood in fervent debate 40 feet away beside the smoldering campfire. Every fiber of his being wanted to scream 'what are ya waitin' on?' so badly did he want the ease he felt his master deserved from the abyss of pain his infected foot had caused. Yet, he knew that once Strider started his cleansing of the rotted flesh, there'd be no turning back, whatever the cost. Sam had seen wounds go bad before, he'd lived no life of sheltered coziness as a lad, he'd seen his Mum work with the local healers on crushed bones and septic wounds, had watched as stoic farm lads lost limbs to infections, had seen the pitying stares of lasses as once able men had been brought down by their deformities. Sam had no illusions that life for a hobbit 'twould be the same when life and limb went their separate ways. What he had was hope, hope that the King and his healing magic would hold sway over the power of blood bourne infection, hope that his Mr. Frodo would show the stubborn Baggins streak for which he was so famous and fight against the poison in his blood, hope that determination would pull them through once more.
Sam looked to the pale and fair faced friend prone beside him, he laid his hand upon a fevered brow and grasped a trembling hand made weak by illness and the previous loss of a finger and he said a prayer to whatever of the Valar would see fit to help the creature who'd paid so dearly to do their biding, and he tried not to be bitter in his hope. He ran a work roughened hand through the grimy lank curls he knew so well " 'tis up to you Mr. Frodo" he whispered as he continued to look towards the distant debate "it all comes back to you sir" he said softly glancing at the white faced apparition beside him "ye've got a choice ta make, at least as Strider sees it sir....he's set ta give you yer choice sir....ta live with us, ta be a part of all that's here....ta see the world re made if you will sir.....to see the good that come from all ye done". Sam took a deep breath and swallowed hard against the lump that was forming in his throat. "There's thems that'll love ya sir, those that'll be with ya no matter whats peeking back at us day by day, no matter what ya are to hobbits on the outside sir....there's them among us that know ye inside and out and who don't prefer neither...so long as we got you with us sir, so long as you give us a chance to save this world along with ye". Sam watched the slender, pale faced lad of his youth twitch in his drug induced sleep, a slight twist of his lips seeming as a smile, a view that was so the opposite of what Sam felt at that moment that he could no longer bear to look upon his friend and master.
Aragorn and Qurag, having debated the pros and cons of Frodo's surgery, stood in silence and stared back through the depth of the trees to see the slightly twitching body of the ringbearer. It was settled , Qurag had run out arguments, and so Aragon grimly proceeded with his directions, "we should go prepare them both Qurag, Frodo for the surgery and Sam for the...the possibility that we will not succeed." The King paused a moment, his gaze never waivering from the sight of the two hobbits he held in such high regard, he felt his resolve strengthen as he thought of the sacrifices these small folks had made for his kingdom, thought of all they had given up to protect the world of men, he would not allow this final blow to fall upon these two to whom he owed so much.
He turned his head and stared intently to the dark black of Qurag's eyes, "I will need to meditate upon the best course of action for a short time" he said softly. "I hope to find the thoughts of Gandalf and through him perhaps find out what is the will of the Valar, but he has been absent from my mind of late, a fact that I cannot deny, concerns me." The King shook his head to dismiss a sudden feeling of foreboding, then turning quickly strode to the horse and took down the leather haversack that carried his supplies ...."we will want athelas, and to use these marigolds with a poultice of woundwort to drain and cleanse the infection. " Aragorn looked deep to the eyes of Qurag "we shall have to ease him slowly from the use of the poppy, and while I fear the pain from this surgery may pull him from his drug induced slumber, I worry to much for the strength of his heart to mix with the poppy the sedative properties of the Valaerian root, so you must stand ready to restrain him if he should awaken." Aragorn clasped the swarthy Orc upon his muscled shoulder "go now friend, look for these herbs with Durzak and I shall go prepare myself, and Sam for what is to occur."
Qurag nooded wordlessly and with a last look to the hobbits he melted into the woods behind them, his brief high pitched whistle, one of many bird calls at his disposal,bringing the form of the second Orc to his side as they left the camp. Aragorn brought his hands to his temples, his rubbing of tiny circles upon them brought some ease to his growing headache. He wondered what remedy he would find for the pain in his heart, and as he walked towards the fair haired hobbit near the fire as he thought 'and where I shall find the hope to give to Samwise, who loves Frodo like no other, ' the King said sadly.