Faces of War

Chapter 42: Longing

Disclaimer: These marvelous creations, for the most part, are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I merely borrow them for a short time as I seek to improve my skills as a writer.

vadersslave......My ideas come from the angst I see reflected in Frodo's face in the movies, from the depth of pain I see in the books and in the movie and through the belief that these simple hobbit type creatures never truly meant harm to those around them....so that the horrors visited upon them are that much more of an eye opener....that the world should turn it's back upon a race or group so devoted to the simple characteristics of love, respect and honor....yes, my "hammering away" at Frodo's purity and innocence may seem cruel...but like children around the globe, does Frodo ask to have such evil find him or does he make the best of the many evil circumstances that befall him?

Iorhael....I can't tell you how much your continued interest in this story means to me....just as I think I am reaching a "wrap up " point another image of the world I and the other hobbits would like to see creeps unbidden into my mind and so the story continues.....not to say that I am a hobbit...but I am a teacher and so I do tend to see the world through the eyes of it's smallest inhabitants!

Endymion2....your active participation in this story has meant the world to me....I hope to hone my skills as a writer whilst entertaining the many fans of LOTR....I did not count on enjoying the experience quite so much....blessings on your comments and your images!

Althea....Frodo's pain is quite real....I myself have had toes amputated and several foot operations so I can speak quite well to the depth of pain that one goes through with trauma to ones feet....Frodo has always felt "different"anyway....only time will tell how well Frodo gets over his role in the many abuses he suffers.

BraellyleatherLeaf....thank you so much for your well thought out commentary regarding my writing...your review is just what I look to as I seek to increase the skill or aspirations behind my own writing! Qurag, despite his own dismal part in Frodo's and other middle earthen creatures survival, has done quite well with the division of labor or expectation of the swagmen etc around him. Chrys has been forever a part of Frodo's distant and well hidden memories....he has hidden her well, not wanting the love he felt for her to be in any way compromised by the sight of his efforts and the sound of his words. Chrys is the voice of reason and of love for Frodo, she lights his way and helps him see the possibilities that may lurk in the way of his future....Frodo will continue to hold to her voice and her image as he fights his way through the many layers of despair that threaten to overwhelm him!

Moonlightshadow....thank you for you words of faith and encouragement....I also think that Chrys is an important figure in Frodo's life...or at least the ideal life he aspires to! She will reappear to help him fight the shadows......

FantasyFan.....yes, very intense emotions....hard to go from Frodo's pain to the depth of emotion experienced by others in this chapter....I hope you continue to read...and review when time permits...I appreciate that my verbal wanderings have amused so many!

Kelllie....your pen name really has three "l's" ? I wondered about that each time you reviewed....I didn't know if it was a typo...I wondered if perhaps you were as tired as I when you sat down at long last to address the interests of your imagination....I can see I was wrong! Thanks so much for sticking with the story...yes we do terrible, unimaginable things to Frodo...but only in the name of "poetic license"! He will have to fight the shadows that threaten to pull him under if he is to see the "light" of his life and spend more time with his love....who of course met her untimely demise in "Gift of the Valar"....or did she?

Lovethosehobbits....I would never....aghast at the very suggestion....end the life of my favorite hobbit.....he is far stronger than the wounds of mere men after all....having been through the pain of amputated toes and several foot surgeries myself ( and I've since run marathons to raise funds for the nat'l arthritis foundation) I know that what does n't kill us can make us stronger...so that is the guiding premise of much of my writing.....I'm glad that you are following my story...I only wish I could crank it out faster...I am long on ideas and woefully short on time...alas!

On to the story......

Faramir raised a weary hand to halt the progression of his men. From his position atop the knoll nearest the water he looked back over the dust covered shades of exhaustion that coated the loyal members of his guard. Scarce thirty men he had, thirty men with the burden of the wagon carrying the injured boy and the healer's wards. A reluctant warrior he'd been at times, but he was still a warrior and the conditions of his travels made him wary. He swallowed his growing discomfort and scanned the horizon once more as the sound of an approaching rider came to his anxious ears. He twisted quickly in the saddle, feeling his back crack from the sudden shift in position, he grimaced from the slight discomfort but motioned the rider forward. "My lord" the captain of his men spoke, his voice sounding tentative in it's offing.

"What news from the scout Hanlon" Faramir queried without taking his eyes from the river vista finally open before him after their long days of travel. Hanlon hesitated but a moment, causing Faramir to raise a brow to aid his query. The cautious guard continued "Sir, the scout reports that the first ship sighted, the one farthest from Minas Tirith has been taken....the men left to guard her are dead or captive." Faramir's eyes never left the river before him as he contemplated his options. The silence grew and Hanlon feared his Lord had not heard the words he'd so dreaded to deliver, he tentatively began again "sir, I said that...." Faramir interrupted brusquely "I have heard your message....are there none left to tell the tale?". Hanlon frowned "none my lord....there were but 8 bodies upon the shore, the remaining men have been made slaves of the Corsairs." Faramir swore under his breath, he'd warned Aragorn that this might happen to the farthest ship....20 men or more as captives meant that the Corsairs held not enough sway to power the large craft reasonably, if that were all the men available to direct the ship. He wondered what number of men the Corsairs held of their own, he once again found himself worried about what he would find as he reached the meeting point told to him by Aragorn.

He turned his face from the peaceful quietude of the river's expanse to fix the guard Hanlon in his hardened gaze. "Tell the men we ride through the night, we must reach the second ship before the Corsairs do....warn the healer that we will travel hard....there will be no stops till we reach our destination." Hanlon nodded his assent and wheeled his horse to turn towards the rest of the caravan. Faramir contemplated the quiet rolling beauty of the river one more moment, he gave his mind the luxury of wandering but an instant as he set his mind and body in motion once more and with a sharp pull of his reins, wheeled the horse about and headed down the knoll road which wound it's way along the river.

With an exasperated sound, halfway between a sigh and a grunt, the dwarf looked over his shoulder. "Hurry now young hobbits" he muttered as he pulled his ponies to a halt and waited for the wagon behind him to catch up. They were close now, he could feel it in every hair upon his head, the chance to do battle would soon be upon them and his eyes gleamed with the thought of the retribution that he might soon have notched into the worn blade of his axe. The rattle and groan of weary wood and tired harness soon brought the hobbits along side him and he turned to say something to them when he noticed the pale face and stricken eyes of the young Took. He, not wanting to overstep in his usual blustery fashion, looked to Merry to ascertain if all was well and was surprised to see that Merry's face was a study in avoidance, that the elder of the two cousins was studiously looking anywhere but at his companion. Gimli looked with no small amount of confusion from one countenance to another and was about to speak his piece when he heard the approaching hoofbeats of an elven steed. With a relieved grin he recognized at once the fair hair and careless grace of Legolas.

" Hah, well elf, 'tis time enough you v'e made it back to us then...what news and how much more of this dust must darken the blade of my favorite axe before my action upon the enemies of the Anduin washes them clean" he shouted in greeting as the elf effortlessly brought his steed to a stop beside the wagon.

Legolas looked briefly to the members of Gimli's group before answering, taking care that his words would not startle the young ones spilling about the two wagons "just over this ridge is our camp master dwarf, your skills shall be needed soon enough"the elf said with a casual raising of one eyebrow and the slight twitch of his lips that indicated the beginning of a faint smile. Gimli could see the worry reflected behind the elf's smile and he grunted " I shall see to it Elf that yer words are true" he said with narrowed eyes and a forced grin.

Gimli beckoned Legolas over closer as Pippin and Merry made busy checking that all the children were ready for the remainder of the trip. The dwarf, never taking his eyes from the orphans in his care, lowered his voice to a strident whisper " has master Baggins been found then?" he queried. Legolas, his eyes shifting from hobbit to dwarf to children replied softly "he is found and near to death, Aragorn asks that we distance the children from him, he is afraid of the strain for all involved....not least of which for the hobbits." Gimli frowned and tilted his head in the direction of the orphans in his keeping "Legolas, I canna keep the hobbits from their kin...master Pippin 'tis near beside himself with worry....what would you propose I do then?" The stalwart Dwarf looked to the wagon behind him, the orphan children were, as usual, quiet biddable and passive, yet a look of hope and of promise was beginning to break through their glassy stares and stony faces.

The two friends sat in silence a moment, both lost in their individual fears and worries as Galen stole up silently beside the wagon and laid a firm and steady hand on Gimli's arm. "I see yer worry Mister Gimli," the muscled man looked up to the elf still astride his mount " and I see yours as well Sir Legolas....the children will be best if given honest words, there have been too many lies in their lives...let me tell it to them" he pleaded. Gimli frowned and fair growled his discontent "what will ya tell then? Will ya tell 'em how they may not see their Ada Frodo again? Will ya tell 'em there is nothing they can do ta help?". Legolas looked with discomfort upon the quietly fidgeting group of children as they nudged one another and jostled for the best spots in the wagons, he too feared to disappoint them after all their travails, and he wondered at the words the man would bring the anxious children in his keeping.

Galen looked back to where Pippin and Merry were passing out food and water to the little ones, he thought of the strength of the children and the hopes of Frodo, he tightened his fears to him and held once more to his hope as he turned back to the dwarf "no, I shall tell them that there are other paths we are meant to take just now, that there are other ways that they may help their hobbit prince, other gifts they bring to aide this hobbit they have grown to love". Gimli grunted his understanding and nodded slowly as he stared meaningfully at the quiet elf. With that, Legolas bade the man to come to his side, he told Galen of the King's plan to have Faramir meet him at the site of the second ship, some ten leagues upriver. He spoke in a soft and barely discernable voice, glancing now and then towards the children "You must show caution Galen, the third ship has not been heard from, they have sent no scouts and Aragorn fears for them. Travel this river road, stop for nothing and you shall reach the bend in the Anduin that berths the second Corsair ship....look for Lord Faramir and his men, they number thirty, and they will keep you until we meet again."

Galen nodded and beckoned to Merry and Pippin to come forward as he steeled himself to tell of his plan to take their wagon. Gimli frowned and looked once more to the wagon overflowing with young ones and made his decision as he called after the form of the former guard "now wait you just a moment. ya may be big but in my years it is no more than a lad yer appearing, so I'll be along with you if ya don't mind, I'm no healer and I can do nothing to help yon master Baggins....but I've become quite good at...." he flicked the reins in his hands "handling a team" he said with a smirk as Legolas lifted an eyebrow in bemused admiration.

Within moments Galen had pulled Kylos aside and had explained that the King had a new purpose for the children, one which would mean delaying their reunion with Frodo. Kylos nodded stoically, he knew, somehow from the depths of his heart, that he would see Frodo again and the news that Faramir traveled with Rosetta was enough to set his fears for the hobbit to rest. The serious lad spoke briefly with the children in the wagons and with a little more shuffling and the common purpose given them by Kylos and Galen they were able to discard some of the supplies and load all 28 of the orphans into the one cart. Merry and Pippin moved the remaining supplies into the lead cart and switched places with Gimli. The gruff Dwarf patted Pippin on the head "rest assured young Hobbit that none will look to the wellness of your kin quite like the Elf and the King...so chin up there lad...and give Frodo a wink fer me if you will". Pippin, who was still quite undone by the fears that his imagination gave way to, was for a moment overwhelmed with the intent of Gimli's kind words and he could only nod tearfully with a sad grimace to mark his assent, then as Gimli turned to walk to the rear wagon he called out, his voice shaken and tentative but growing in strength "I'll do ye one better Gimli...I'll teach Frodo the new drinking song taught us by Galen, though he'll get none 'o the ale ta go with it." Gimli's laugh could be heard echoing amidst the rocks as he shouted "hi ah" and turned the ponies to start off down the river road.

The sun was at it's zenith, the heat of the day dancing upon the stark rocks about them as Merry and Pippin, with a last look to Gimli and a nervous glance to Legolas set off over the ridge to find what was left of their cousin.

The crackling of the fire drew Aragorn's attention away from his patient, he tended the steadiness of the flame, carefully poking the embers with his knife to ensure the constant heat needed to simmer his herbal infusions. He put down his knife and stood to bend over the pot which Sam had set to boil, he stirred the herbal mixture and glanced over the top of the flames to watch the hobbits. Sam was mechanically dipping a clean rag in the basin by his side and wringing it out as he slowly wiped the sweat and pain from Frodo's brow. Dip, wring and swipe, the steady hobbit's motions were efficient and practiced, love and worship present in each careful stroke of his hands. The King watched the patient motions of the hobbit gardener, admiring the way in which Sam could read the needs of the master that he served, knowing that there could be no better judge of the ringbearer's desires than the steady servant who'd grown up a faithful admirer of the dark haired hobbit beside him.

With a sigh Aragorn grabbed a rag and lifted the small iron pot from the flames, he poured it into a small wooden dipper and blew upon it, hoping to cool it enough to pass Sam's muster. He brought it to where Frodo lay, the beaded sweat of fever upon his brow. He waited until Sam was once more through his routine of dip, wring and wipe before he extended it towards the steadied countenance of Frodo's servant and friend. Sam looked up "he's becoming restless again Strider, I think the pain 'tis too much" he said, his voice cracking as he looked to the bandages upon his master's foot, blood and pus seeping through dressings which were only a few hours old. Strider nodded " I know Sam, I see how restless he becomes...we must give him more of the valerian root as we are weaning him from the poppy...yet we must go easy, the valerian will slow his heart as it eases his pain, something I fear to overdo." The King paused as he saw the shades of pain cross over the ringbearer's face, he looked Sam square in the eye " I know you share his hurts Sam, but he needs his pain to guide his healing....we will not help him by hiding his pain forever in a veil of oblivion such as the poppy offers....so we will reduce the poppy as the valerian is increased in small doses".

The practical hobbit beside him nodded, his eyes shining with the tears that Strider knew he was loathe to let fall. Aragorn scooted down to a place by Frodo's foot, he lifted the blood stained white dressings and looked intently at the newest hurt in Frodos' repertoire of discomforts. He knew in his heart that Sam harbored growing resentment for the pain caused his master by the world of men, he himself felt uneasy about his choice to operate in such a drastic measure with no guidance from Gandalf, he shook off his doubts as he explained "Sam, it was for his own good that I cut where I did... I could not ensure his survival if the bones beside his initial hurt were allowed to fester. " Sam nodded slowly, and looked to the wrappings in the King's hand with a heavy heart as he worried now not just for the life of his friend, but for the future days and accusing glances he'd have at his disposal whilst living the life of gentry in the Shire.

Sam found his mind playing tricks on him and he saw in the span of seconds flashes of memories and moments with the Frodo of his youth....a jubilant Frodo dancing at the Green Dragon, an out of breath Frodo....chest heaving in his effort and heart racing like the wind as he ran to the willow tree, a sweat and dust covered Frodo working shoulder to shoulder with other lads to bring in the harvest. He felt a cloud of despair descend upon him and wondered what life would be left in the spirit of his master....as he saw over and over again the vision of a strong and fully able master tackling the daily challenges presented by his spirit and his place in hobbit society.

Aragorn watched the dark clouds of worry descend over Sam's face and he with a vow of strength and determination turned his attention back to the task at hand, his lips pursed in concern. He carefully unwrapped the dressing and bringing a basin of warmed and scented water forward, he gently bruised the athelas leaves and mixed them with the marigold petals as he dropped them into the basin with an elven incantation on his lips. He murmured his words of healing and taking the wounded foot he carefully submerged it in the water. The body of the ringbearer tensed and Sam uttered soothing sounds as he reached to hold Frodo's hands. Aragorn gently rinsed the wounded area, surveying the dark red and fading purple streaks that ran from the site of the severed toes and the spliced bones of the damaged foot. He massaged the site of the newly amputated bone, delicately forcing fresh blood to flow as the remnants of deadened flesh and partially clotted scabs broke free their hold upon infected fluids. Frodo's unconscious body tensed further and he moaned as his face began to twitch in his efforts to remain insensate.

Sam's sharply indrawn breath and gradually growing string of softly spoken words alerted Aragorn to the ringbearer's changing state of consciousness. He looked up from his massaging of the foot to see Frodo struggling to open his eyes. "Sam" he hissed "the valerian, give him another dose". Sam, eyes wide in fear moved quickly to the fire and brought a dipper of the infused poppy and valerian mixture to the side of his friend. He knelt down and carefully tucking his arm behind Frodo's head, lifted the pale and sweat drenched face of his friend to bring the dipper close to his mouth. Aragorn ceased his manipulation of the foot while he waited for Sam to administer the sedative, his eyes glued to the softly fluttering eyelids of the pain wracked hobbit. "Shh Mr. Frodo" Sam crooned "here it 'tis then, just a bit now, there ya go sir....this'll aid ya then" he whispered soothingly as he eased the dipper to Frodo's lips. Blue circles, sunken and black rimmed from pain, stared back to Sam's hazel eyes, an eerie disorientation making the blue of Frodo's eyes seem unnaturally bright. For a brief moment the blue orbs seemed to focus and Sam shuddered as he saw the depth of his master's agony "Sam" Frodo whispered beseechingly "make it...stop" his words were so faint that Sam had to bend closer "let...me, let me go Sam...no...more..pain" he gasped his final words and shook with a violent chill as his eyes, overcome with the weight of his words stared a moment to his friend then slowly shut once more.

The melody of the river's rushing water was the only sound heard for a moment as Aragorn reached to clasp Sam's shoulder, to steady the stoic gardener and protect him from his vision of Frodo's agony. "Sam" he whispered "he does not know of what he speaks....the pain and the poppy have brought him this low". Sam, his master's head lovingly clasped in his arms, turned his tear filled eyes to the Ranger who had been his hero "he can take no more Strider, no more...you heard 'em...how much more pain must he 'ave before we are strong enough to say 'tis done?"

Aragorn, eyes stinging with unshed grief, stared at the simple love shining in Sams face and slowly shook his head "I do not know Sam, I know only that it is not his time yet....the will of the Valar will not be served in his request...it is not his time" he whispered brokenly, his eyes begging for understanding. Sam's face grew hard and he turned from Striders gaze long enough to kiss his master's tangled curls and gently lay his head down before turning once more to face the King "What of his will, what of his choices in this world Aragorn? Is he to have no say in the shaping of his future? Is he to forever be a pawn in the game these elven gods

play? Has he not given enough to this world he can bear no longer? " Sam's voice gradually became louder with the parry and thrust of each of his words until his voice cracked under the strain of his emotions and he coldly hissed "if you know what shadow of a life the Valar have planned for him, if you carry the secrets of his future in your mans heart, then I suggest you tell me of it soon... before I take his future into my hands...before I give him what his hobbit soul desires and what his gentle spirit deserves ."

With that Sam slowly stood and with an scowl of anger and body tense with hatred he moved away, without a backwards glance, to seek the peace of the river's rhythm and ceaseless flow. He sat beside the soothing motion of the Anduin, his mind swirling with emotion, his good hobbit heart in turmoil as he contemplated the last words of his master. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his head in his arms as his eyes fixed upon the sparkle and shimmer of the deeply flowing expanse of water before him. 'Oh Mr. Frodo, me heart is fixed to break, don't put your Sam in such a fix....how am I to help you if its an end yer seekin'? I am no wise wizard or powerful man, I am just yer friend....one who wants only the best for ya, but what is yer best? How could we have walked through death only ta be found by darkness once more?'. His simple hobbit senses rebelled at the notion of seeking an end to life, for like all of his race, he believed only in seeing the best in all situations. He shook his head, a single tear trailing over cheek and chin as he was forced to confront the notion that perhaps death would be the best choice for his master, perhaps the world as he knew it was no longer deserving of Frodo's spirit. He closed his eyes and his shoulders shook as silent sobs overcame his thoughts and he gave in to his pain.

The Steward of Gondor stood a moment in his stirrups, his eyes shielded from the fading sun he tracked a cloud of dust that traveled some miles behind them. He cursed under his breath, the wagon with the healer and his charges was slowing down once more. He signaled the riders on ahead to wait and he retraced his steps to reach the steady 'clop, clop' of the cart ponies. As he was about to hail them he heard a tremendous screeching groan and watched in horror as the cart's axle gave way and the driver struggled to maintain the carts upright position. He heard a scream from inside the canvas covering and held his breath as the wagon lurched to it's awkward halt with a groan of breaking wood and the harsh neigh of panicked ponies. Faramir urged his horse onward and reached the cart just as the leather flap at the rear was lifted and Terren peeked his head out of the covering.

"We are not hurt my Lord" Terran said with a catch in his throat. Faramir rode closer and dismounted, he lifted the flap of the wagon and found himself staring at the wide eyed and tense faces of Rosetta and the lad. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that none were hurt and then he turned to Terran "you were fortunate Healer, now you shall have to stay and fix your wagon before you can travel." He walked to the site of the broken axle and contemplated his options as he paused once more then pulled Terran out of earshot of the children "perhaps it is best that you wait here while we scout ahead.". The healer nodded "aye, the lad shakes with terror at the thought of coming once more upon the Corsairs Lord Faramir, I fear they have done him harm that he has yet to tell of." Faramir frowned, he did not relish the thought of leaving them here with only the driver for protection, he looked intently to the elderly healer "give yourself an hour or two, no more, to attempt repair, if you do not make progress in that time, abandon the wagon, make for one of the caves that are clustered in the far bluffs to the west of us. I will find you in a days time if you do not come to us." Terran nodded as Faramir continued ....see to it that the children leave nothing behind if the wagon needs to be abandoned. Terran nodded silently and waited for Faramir to exchange words with the driver before retreating inside the wagons' coverings once more. Once inside he found Garth and Rosetta clinging fearfully to one another. "Now , now lad...that a boy...all will be fine, we need only a few hours of repair before we shall be off once more." Garth nodded with fear coloring his every motion yet he looked up bravely as Faramir looked to him and asked with a shaky voice "shall we bring ourselves to the water's edge sir? Or shall we wait here for further orders?"

The Steward looked thoughtfully at the boy beside him "you shall help Terran and the driver fix the broken axle and then head upstream, if in the next hour or two you are not able to fix the wagon, then help Terran empty the provisions and make camp near the bluff to the west. I will come to you as soon as I can spare the men." Garth nodded soundlessly and tried to smile as Faramir next bent and ruffled the curls of the lass by his side "and you must be brave young one and listen to the orders of Terran....he is my second in command and will be your leader until I return, understood?" Rosetta smiled as she asked "may I be your third in command Lord Faramir? I should like to show Ada Frodo how brave I can be." Faramir laughed "all right, third in command it is....you shall be given charge of the ponies, now mind Terran and I shall be back in a day if I do not see you sooner."

As Faramir mounted once more, he turned one last time to see Terran and the driver deep in discussion about the broken wagon as Rosetta was helping Garth empty the wagon. He felt a shiver and an uneasy prickling of his skin as he frowned and rode once more along the river road seeking the meeting place told to him by Aragorn. He dismissed his unease as the response of his body to the sudden shift in the river breeze and he turned his attention to the next task before him.