Faces of War
Chapter 41: Penetrating
Disclaimer....these painstakingly created creatures are not mine, alas....blessings to JRR and his estate for letting me "play" with his boys!
Moonlightshadow....mid terms, the bane of student life eh? Well, I, as a teacher can offer only marginal sympathy as I know how important school is! Thank you so very much for your kind words...it has been a challenge to bring the characters back together again after their extended absence from one another....I can empathize with JRR's writing dilemmas and can understand ...or at least begin to see how very difficult the task he set for himself was! I agree with you about the children, they draw me back time and time agin to this long and ever evolving story....but they are the reason for my very existence.....thank you for reading and please keep following...it is much more fun to write if I can wonder at the response my words might conjure up in the minds of those reading!
Lovethosehobbits....yikes, can't believe it's been a month since my last entry...the story is never far from my mind...it's just that :life" gets between me and the keyboard! I too am lost in the story, each time I sit to write I feel it "pull" me in...it is my "watcher in the water"....I fear that I too may need the might of Aragorn and Legolas to pull me out....I shall try to be more consistent in my entries....it is so very hard having a life outside of the lads....
Althea....yes, it is good to have the Shire 'flavor; of Merry and Pippin once more...they will be only a taste in this chapter but more is soon to come! I see Terran as a grandfatherly type, one who has been denied the time with his own grandchild, thus he loves others as his own...Rosetta is, well she is the light that draws Frodo back is she not? Poor Sam...he shall face pain in this chapter.....
BraellyLeatherleaf....thank you, thank you....keep on reading...it gets better!
Taking a last steadying breath, Aragorn with a small knife clasped securely in his hands, bent over the black and purple streaked, distended flesh of Frodo's foot and with a last bit of hesitation, brought the blade to the site of the heat infused and foul smelling wound. Sam looked anxiously to Frodo's thin and pale face, eyes attuned to any change in his level of awareness. Frodo lay like a dead thing, a wizened child in appearance, his too pale skin marked with bruises and sores stretched taut over his seemingly frail body. His frame would tremor on occasion, as if the gentle river breeze, so refreshing to others, was too much for his battered senses to comprehend. Qurag grunted his obvious displeasure as he tightened his hold upon the thin hobbit's shoulders and he waited for the latest tremor of pain or chill to take control of the slender form beneath him. The Orc looked anxiously to the drawn face of the tale teller, no movement could he see, the pale skin, stretched too taut over sunken cheeks was moist with the sheen of his fever induced sweat, but his body was still, too still. As the knife was about to make it's first cut into rotted flesh, the healing King froze in his actions and looked to the path behind him.
Sam, his mind finally readied for this newest hurt to his master took offence at this newest distraction and he gritted his teeth as he shook his head in frustration and snapped "what 'tis the wait for now Strider...his leg'll not last much longer...." Sam's next words were frozen in his
throat as he looked up to see Legolas and several more of his elven kin materialize through the dappled leaves of the nearby river birches. The elven lord lightly leapt from his mount and strode purposefully towards the figures gathered upon the ground. Aragorn, whose eyes had lit up upon the sight of his elven friend stayed his post, knife steady and hand firmly positioned against the putrefying flesh of Frodo's foot. With a slight twist of his head and a quirk of his brow Aragorn acknowledged the arrival Legolas "come at last to our aid?" he questioned with a sad and bitter smile. Legolas frowned, his quicksilver eyes taking in all the most visible damage and his heart reading the rest, when finally his eyes took in the extent of the damage to the ringbearer's foot. "I felt your need" he said quietly as he stood beside the King "I come to offer what help I am able to give, for I too have felt it Aragorn, I know that Gandalf is not to be found". Sam looked from noble flashing dark grey eyes to mercurial green eleven lights as he tried to ascertain the meaning of this elven message.
Strider sighed "I have lost the light of Gandalf, I find no guidance in my seeking of answers my friend....I only hope that the Istari's absence is as it is meant to be and not a message of what is to come" he said his voice barely registering above the sound of the flowing water behind him. Sam, unable to fully grasp the meaning behind the King's words, instead grasped Frodo's hand in a desperate grip of love not willing to let go it's prize. The shaken hobbit watched soundlessly as the King ordered the elves of Legolas's party to gather about them in a circle, his eyes barely blinked as he saw the elves about them grasp hands and Legolas kneel opposite the King and raise his hands above the ugliness of Frodo's butchered leg. Sam took a deep steadying breath and he held to Frodo's hand with both of his own as he bent his head to whisper in his master's ear "them that love ya are here for ya sir...we're all here ta pull you from yer pain, to be yer light sir as ye've been the light to so many...hold strong master, hold strong" the sturdy hobbit murmured to his master and his friend.
The gathered elves found their voices raised in a collective chant of healing and peace as their words sought to bring the dying hobbit to a place of quiet from his pain, a place of light and love that shone from the stars of Arda above. A melodious murmuring of voices entwined itself about those who sought to bring healing and stability to the desperately sick hobbit beneath them. Aragorn with a last steadying breath, grasped the darkened and distended flesh that was what remained of Frodo's foot and with a quick motion, deftly began to cut away the offending flesh.
Frodo felt a pull, an urge to surface from his world of stuporous acceptance , a force called to him, seeking to immerse him once more in the jagged inequities of pain without measure and he pulled back. The reward of being near to those he knew tended him was not a chip strong enough to barter, he sought shelter from the starkness of his pain and once more denied the voices who sought to bring him to the surface of his dwindling light. He heard, amidst the shattered promises of his memories, the voice of his beloved. He chose to forsake all other sounds save that of the Hobbit lass who'd brought him his sense of belonging, love and self assurance.
Through the cloying mists of his most foul dreams and images, the sharply defined light of this hobbit savior was bright indeed. Frodo found it hard to resist the pull of those lights. He heard the softly falling words of an old promise, the gentle gift of words renewed....
I take thee Frodo Baggins, to be my voice of strength, my light of wisdom, my hope for the future....in this world or any other.
He looked about the mist of his shrouded mind, seeking, searching for the one whose words had brought him such comfort....so long ago.
I made that promise to you my love...and I will stand by it...will you?
A calm and serene song filled Frodo's soul and he wanted with all his heart to answer...his mind readied to answer...yes Chrys my love, yes.
His body did not give his mind the chance for as he was to renew once more his promise a fiercely agonizing pain gripped him as he felt through his drug induced slumber and dream layered trance the lancing of his infected limb. His eyes, closed so long to the world of his body, flew open, not seeing the friends of his fellowship, only the onslaught of pain as his body tensed like a great spring ready to uncoil. Sam, seeing the anguish in his masters un-registering gaze tightened his grip on the slender hand encased within his own and began to make soothing noises from deep within his throat. Frodo's howl of pain and betrayal drowned out any comfort Sam may have offered as his tightly held body shook violently in it's attempt to distance itself from the instrument of this newest torture.
"Hold 'em" Sam yelled to Qurag as Frodo's body convulsed in it's rictus of torture. Sam reached for both of Frodos hands as Qurag did his best to hold the hobbit down by his shoulders. The melodious chantings of the elves increased in time to keep pace with the pulsating fear emanating from the watering blue eyes beneath them. Aragorn motioned to Legolas to use his hands as well as his mind's soothing invocations to still the flailing hobbit.
Hold steady my love, there is only my voice....hold to my words and to my love Frodo Baggins
Frodo fought the pain of his body, sought to still his quaking limbs and focus on the words of his beloved, with deep gasping sobs he willed his body to quiet once more and focused on the light in his mind.
Chrys, it hurts, oh Eru how it hurts my love he moaned as his words left his battered mind and connected with the light before him.
Aragorn, clearly shaken by Frodo's response to the first cut motioned to Durzack to bring a flask readied with valerian root, infusion with a reduced dose of the poppy. The King's eyes spoke of the intended task and Sam, his own chest heaving in his agony for his master, loosened his grip upon one of Frodo's hands as he reached behind the slender neck to position him for the remedy. Frodo's eyes, dazed and clouded with pain cleared for one moment as Sam gently brought the flask to his cracked lips "help me Sam" he whispered brokenly and then with one last pain filled gasp, his eyes rolled back into his head. Sam stifled his own sob at those words so fraught with pain, but worked carefully to ensure that all the available dosage was gently placed within Frodo's mouth before he softly stroked the slender neck to be certain it was all swallowed. With a couple of deep breaths, Sam steadied himself and with utmost care softly laid Frodo's limp body down once more, with a shaking hand he stroked a stray dark curl from the pale fair face beneath him and he nodded that Aragorn should continue.
Frodo moved through his shadowed mind to the gently pulsating light before him. His pain veiled body allowed his imagination to roam free and in his dream he reached forward to entwine his hand in the velvet soft life of amber and gold before him. Chrys he breathed as he pulled her to him. He bent his head to bury his nose in the fragrance of her, lavender and rosemary soothed him as he inhaled all his past loneliness. I have missed you so my lass...it's been so long, so long he whispered as he pulled back to look into the shimmering green of her dancing eyes. Frodo my love...we are so close now....hold steady love, hold fast to what we once had, for we shall be together again love....but you must have faith my love, have faith in our strength together. She said, the melody of her voice a balm to his broken heart.
The chanting of the elves resumed it's gentle rhythm and Legolas relaxed his grip upon the hobbit's feet as Aragorn continued to palpate diseased flesh and to extrude the poisoned fluid from Frodo's foot. The fetid odor of decayed and rotted skin permeated the area and Sam nearly swooned from the wall of rank smells about him. Aragorn, his face white and lips held to a grim line, continued his grisly task. Cutting, squeezing, then cutting some more as the tune of the elves slowly changed to a quieter rhythm and all felt a soft peace descend upon them.
Legolas looked grimly to the now exposed bone beside him "you shall need to cut more" he said "the infection has set to bone". Aragorn nodded and sat back a moment on his heels as he took a cleansing cloth from it dish of athelas and Marigold, he carefully dabbed away the remaining pus tinged blood from the site of the wound. "I shall need a harder surface upon which to cut, Durzack, bring to me the shield from Brego's saddle" he said and within a minute he'd repositioned the freely bleeding foot upon a cloth covered shield.
Sam's head was spinning, the smell of Frodo's rotted flesh, the soothing rhythm of the elves invocations, the softly wafting aroma of the athelas all gathered about him in a cloying cloak of disembodied images. He shook his head as he numbly watched Strider swab the bloody foot and place it carefully upon the cloth covered firmness of the round shield. He watched in horror as the King brought fourth Andiril and was frozen in disbelief as the blade was cleansed with athelas and blessed by elven words. He felt Qurag's firm hands upon his shoulders as Aragorn raised himself up upon one knee and raised the blade above him, Legolas swiftly angled the bloody foot and he screamed in anguish as with one whistling swoop of the blade, Frodo's infected bone was severed from his body.
"Noooo" echoed over the water as birds that'd roosted in nearby trees and bushes rose up at the violence of Sam's cry. There was no time for further rage for as Sam gathered his senses about him once more he felt the tremor of Frodo's body as the tightly clenched hand in his sought to pull away. Sam looked from Frodo's foot to his face and watched in dismay as the wasted body beside him thrust this way and that, great convulsive tremors wracked the frail body and drool seeped forth from lips bit bloody in his agony. Sam threw himself atop his friend without thinking and fought to control his own shaking. Tears wet his cheeks as Sam scrambled to quiet his beloved master and friend. "Shhh Frodo, 'tis all right sir, 'twill soon be over.' he sobbed.
The elves stepped back as Legolas rose quickly to his feet and repositioned himself by Frodo's head. He knelt once more and firmly grasped on either side of the dark dank curls, his voice rising and falling in a terrible and powerful melody, then he knelt and touching his blond forehead to Frodo's dark damp curls whispered elven words of comfort over and over again. Sam watched in wonder as with each word his masters pain wracked body was taken to a place of quiet and release as the elven words drifted through the hobbit's mind and brought him comfort and calm. Aragorn nodded his thanks and with a few more swift cuts with the smaller blade, the debriding of dead flesh and bone was complete.
As Strider continued to cleanse and swab the wound, and herbs were brought to layer within the clean white dressing, Sam stood shakily to his feet. He felt his throat burn from the effort of holding back his pain, he stumbled to a nearby copse of trees and falling to knees, was violently sick for several moments. His head throbbed, his throat burned and his eyes watered in his pain as he remained knelt upon the ground, hands digging into his thighs to quell the trembling of his arms. A firm and calloused hand gently stroked his hair and he was dimly aware of the presence of another. He turned his head sideways, eyes full of tears just able to make out the deep red-brown scars and skin that made up the persona of Qurag. "Foot better now, tale teller have chance" Qurag grunted softly as he pulled a shaken Sam to his feet.
"Aye" Sam nodded "a chance is all he has isn't it?" he asked as he looked to where Strider was gently bathing the face and neck of the emaciated hobbit beside him "just a chance he has....after all he done fer us, after all his pain...this is what he has left to 'em" Sam was getting angry now. "The world of men don't deserve 'em Qurag....if, if I can get 'em past this....he'll never again call any man 'friend'.....not if Sam Gamgee has something ta say about it leastways" he muttered, his voice rank with hatred and distrust he pulled away from the helping hand of the orc and took his place once more by his masters side.
Three miles east of the river the weary band of Orphans rode through the desert heat in silence. The day grew old and all knew that soon they would be near to the river, and closer to finding the little one who had brought them comfort and calm in their darkest times. Blue eyes. Brown eyes, orbs of hazel and crinkled eyes of green and gold focused on Pippin as he continued his story. "And then yer Ada Frodo saw fit ta put a liberal amount of soap upon the bath house steps....nigh on each and every gentlehobbit ta use the bath house on that day found his comin' out a sight worse than his comin' in...ye've not truly seen funny 'til ye've seen the master of Buckland dancing about the steps with naught but a towel upon him" he added matter of factly and turned to looked his cousin square in the eye, green eyes dancing with the retelling of his favorite cousin's mischief. Merry was smirking, his full lips twisted in a sardonic grin as he nodded knowingly "aye, 'tis right ya are Pippin....and I'll venture that our Frodo did not sit comfortable in his seat for a near a week after the whupping that was gifted to him by my Da!"
The two hobbits looked to one another in companionable silence, it felt good to recall a time of smiling Frodo angst and ribald Frodo fun. Mid smile Pippin felt a chill run down his back and he found himself looking anxiously to the horizon of the road, with a clatter to his teeth he stared as if in a trance to the spot several miles distant where he 'saw' Sam sick upon the ground and he could only guess the cause. Pip turned once more to look to his favorite cousin "we will see him soon Merry...soon" Pip muttered eyes round with the horror of what they'd soon themselves see.