Faces of War
Chapter 43: connecting
Disclaimer...The characters within this story( or the majority of them) are the creation of Mr. Tolkien and his estate...I merely borrow them for a brief time to amuse myself and entertain the readers of this tale...
Shelbyshire...late or no, welcome to the tale...I hope that my late addition to its events does not put you off! I actually misplaced my character notes and have only just recently been able to re-write this chapter...please offer me what advice you feel would make this story more enjoyable!
My writing is done as a learning experience...I love the story begun by JRR and seek to further my own skills as a writer by "Borrowing" the boys for a time...but I am very anxious to learn how readers respond to the ideas and images I create...so please, please feel free to "shape" my story with your advice!
Althea...My heart aches for Sam...his love for Frodo is so pure and strong...the friendship they feel for one another is to me the ideal upon which all friendships who'd benefit from being based upon...although few in real life seem to compare! Aragorn learns of love from his time with the "little folks" in his charge during the quest...and he learns of how to cope with sorrow and hopelessness in the days after the quest as he himself seeks to become a man worthy to lead the world from the shadows of Sauron to the promise of the new age...I feel that Aragon's gentleness is a tribute to his acceptance of the importance the smallest folk of his time played in the events that formed his world!
endymion2...Bless you for keeping with this tale! I have encountered my share of difficulties...which I hope are "fixed" now...so on with the tale! Many seem trapped in the pain of others don't they? Our Sam seeks to find a way to bring relief to one he loves...I am certain that there must be no more painful a situation in which to find oneself ( unless it is to be trapped in the shadow cast by the madness of one you love...see Willow Wode's saga...a pain so intense I cannot yet touch upon it).
TTTurtle...I am indebted to you for sticking with this story...please do not apologize for the erratic reviews...goodness...my writing has been fraught with delays and setbacks...I am learning so much about the craft of writing form my time on am truly grateful to all who read and help me through the growing pains of my stories! An "expert" at angst...I am blushing madly I can assure you! Angst is merely the pain and "bumps" in the rode experienced by the tellers of a tale...do not worry overmuch about the degree of angst suffered...it will all work out for the good of the tale! Frodo's foot has been left relatively intact...you will see in this chapter...Aragorn seeks to remove the infection without ending the life of his friend or further incurring the wrath of Sam! The Corsairs, bless them, are hardy "evil doers" and will be seen again!
Kelllie...Self determination...how few of us actually have it...we are all, to some extent "trapped" in the good or bad graces of others it would seem...Sam wants for nothing more than for his childhood hero to feel no pain...but does he realize that pain is the crucible that his beloved Mr. Frodo was forged within? Sam has a lot of reconciling to do...and will need the love and support of others of his kind to help him see that his love for Mr. Frodo can have more than one path upon which to travel! Three "l's"...I shan't forget it!
Moonlightshadow...When I write...I become "sunk" or "imeresed" in the world's my characters inhabit...I sometimes don't realize the import of the words they've uttered until a reader points them out...thank you for highlighting this dialog...Sam is certainly one of the bravest and most certainly the most true character in Tolkien's story...thank you for your observations!
BraellyraLeatherleaf...Bless you for sticking with it...I am ashamed to admit I lost one of my character notebooks and have had to spend time recreating some details...I hope you'll stick with it to the end...the love that Frodo and Sam live through this tale is one which brings me hope...
The day drew on, long hours spent tending fire and patient, long hours the King sought to fill with meaningful tasks which served both to help the ringbearer and to keep him from Sam's unyielding side. With yet another sigh Aragorn glanced over his shoulder to watch Sam, he took in the stiff posture and stock still carriage of the hobbit and knew that Sam was not yet ready. He turned to Qurag "my friend, I am in need of time in meditation to help me find some answers...I seek words of advice from some who know much more than I about healing...would you...?" Aragorn found himself at a loss for words and stared with confusion to the pitted and darkened face beside him. "I watch, take care of tale teller, you think on next care " Qurag said with a sure and steady smile as he laid his large roughened hand upon the kings shoulder. Aragorn did his best not to be startled by the touch, but still he found himself stepping back, his body unable to stay it's flight response when in the proximity of one whose kind he'd only ever killed.
Qurag observed the King's body language sadly, it would be a long time before the evil, the memories of hurt and hatred that existed between Orcs and other races would be eased up enough for true friendship to exist, if ever. He would have to settle for an uneasy truce, a common ground of hope and he knew that caring for the halfling creature would bring them to such a place. He stared long at Aragorn and then said, his voice rough and brusque "You go now, Durzak and I take care..." He gestured to the shaded spot where Frodo lay in fevered slumber "he sleep you go now." he said his dark eyes searching the light held deep within the kings dramatic blue eyes.
Aragorn, with a tightening of his lips and a nod of supplication turned and walked to a path in the brush he'd seen earlier. He sought a place of quiet and solitude, yet one not so far that he could not be raised by cries of help or need. He spied a log fallen beneath the spreading branches of a spruce tree and he lowered himself to sit upon it, his back pressed to the rounded comfort of the trunk behind him. He raised his hand and rubbed his temple wearily, the images of the past days flew through his mind and he found himself once more asking 'where are you Gandalf? What would you have me do to aid Frodo?'. With these thoughts foremost in his consciousness, he cleared his mind of all but these questions and sought through the time and space of his memories to find his friend of many ages.
A swirling vortex filled his minds eye, gradually the distant sound of running water, the smell of the campfire and the sensation of sun upon his face all faded away and in it's place was left the softness of clouds and the whisperings of voices. Aragorn, you pursue the right path my friend he heard the soft voice continue do not let him go, his tasks here are not yet finished...he will find his deliverance . The voice was joined by another, a smooth weapon of persuasion that found it's way to Aragorns heart with words of softly crafted adamant . He will have all that he once loved,The Valar have seen his pain and been with him through his trials. He must live to seek the life of the Eldar Aragorn...do not let him stray from this, his final quest, for his love awaits him there...
Aragorn's images gave rise to many questions, all battled with one another seeking to be answered. 'What of Sam?' He thought 'What more can be done to ease the suffering they share?'
The first voice answered sadly Sam will be unable to bring his master the peace he seeks, he is too strong in his love of Frodo, and too weak in his belief in himself, in his belief that his path has merit. The second, more commanding voice continued Frodo's pain shall be his guide, through his loss he will gain the strength he needs to continue. Aragorn reached once more, with his thoughts, into the clouded void Ada, I have not your healing skills...through choice or no I may not have the ability to save the ringbearer, he grows weak from the abuses he has suffered...the hands of men have brought him pain Ada...he has suffered deeply the hatred and insecurities of those less than he. All was deeply quiet for a moment and then a third voice, more melodic and soothing in it's cadence came to the King you will tell him...you will be his voice of reason for he must not forget... he is my light in this world, or any other Aragorn King, remind him of his promise...his love will light the way for others until he is with me again...remind him...his journey is not yet done, my pilgrim has yet to choose...he has still to see the array of his future...do not let him go... The third voice faded away, it's last words filled with tears and weary resignation. Aragorn felt a weight upon him with these words
and with a sinking heart knew that there would be more suffering before Frodo would have the strength to make his choice. Aragorn, look to the children my friend, the first voice said, his words growing firm in their quietly uttered conviction he will find his strength through the eyes of the children.
Aragorn slowly came back to his senses, the crisp smell of pine boughs, the roughness of bark upon his fingertips, the quiet voices of Qurag and Durzakregistering bit by bit in his mind. He remained sitting a few moments longer, mulling over the words given him Gandalf, Elrond and third voice he could only guess as Chrys's. So Gandalf has succeeded he mused as he stiffly got up and with a determined pursing of his lips returned to camp and prepared to do battle for the two hobbits who were most dear to him.
Terren looked back over his shoulder, in the far distance he could just see that the driver of the wagon was taking one of the ponies to find a piece of tree timber sturdy enough to be formed as a new axle. He was a bit uneasy about separating from the man he knew to be trained in use of weapons, but he knew they could not hold up the others, too many lives depended upon the speed and efficiency of their meeting with the King. He looked ahead, Garth and Rosetta, both newly arisen from their sickbeds, were struggling to carry what little weight he'd been forced to give them. The healer tightened his hand upon the makeshift lead rope of the pony at his side, he sighed while contemplating trying to affix the children's small bundles to the already overloaded beast. He opted to call a halt instead and with a quick cry to head for the yonder copse of trees he directed the children to seek the distant shade as their resting point.
Garth sank gratefully to the pine needles below him, his legs were trembling from his trek and he wiped the sweat from his face with a shaky hand. The blond curls beneath Rosetta's kerchief were suddenly freed as the lass shook her head to bring a breeze to her damp locks. "whew , it 'tis hot" she said as she turned to fan a quiet Garth with her damp kerchief. "Aye" he whispered faintly and he leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes. Terren brought a water skin over and squatted beside the lad "here ye go then lad, take small sips, there ye go...not too much at once, there ye go" he said encouragingly before handing the skin to Rosetta. He watched her drink but a moment and then held out his hand to retrieve the lightened skin. They would have to be careful to conserve their water if it was to last them the several days it might take for Faramir to find them. His thoughts were broken by Garth's quiet question "how much further Terren?".
The healer stood and gestured to the west, across an expanse of small tree groupings, brush and dusty rock strewn pathways to a distant ridge. " 'Tis over there that lord Faramir told us to wait for him, so it's over there we shall go. Another 5 or 6 hours of walking should bring us fair close to it Garth." Terren paused when he saw the lad pale at the thought of so much walking "now don't ya be worrying, we'll take it slow with lots of rest stops lad...and if we must we'll take turns settin' astride the pack pony." Rosetta clambered closer to the worried lad beside her, she took his hand in hers and said earnestly "I can carry a bit more Garth, I shouldn't mind helpin' you." Garth smiled weakly "you must think me without strength or courage, for that I am sorry" the slight lad sighed heavily and looked apologetically to his traveling companions..."it's just that everything seems to take such effort, effort which at times seems not worth the trouble...and I sometimes worry that soon you'll think the same of me." he said, his words fading as he cast his eyes downward, shamefully avoiding their gaze.
Terren shook his head sadly and pulling firmly upon the lead rope, tied the pony to a nearby branch before coming to sit down on the other side of the small boy. "Garth, we've all been through times of pain and trouble lad, no one is about to cast blame upon ya for feeling tired and full of doubts." The elderly man placed his gnarled hand upon the boys dark curls gently as he soothed the wind blown locks from the thin face 'ye've not got ta worry about such things...it's together we've been brought and together we shall stay...am I making myself heard now?" he asked gently. Garth nodded, and wiped a sudden tear from his cheek as he found his throat suddenly too tight to speak. He grabbed the wrinkled old hand of the healer and placed it shyly against his cheek before bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss. "Thank you Terren, I'd be lost if not for you and the princess here...I've no one else" he whispered softly. Terren nodded "I know lad, I know" he said his soft words a mantra of sustenance to his own troubled thoughts..."nor do we...but we have each other so lets be off then so we can reach the ridge by nightfall."
With a quick smile, an encouraging pat upon the lads knee and a few last murmured words of encouragement, the healer got his two charges upon their feet and they continued on their way.
The sun was displaying the last of it's energy as the cooling early evening breezes fought for their place in the gradually dimming sky as Merry and Pippin rode their lightened cart over the last hill and into the shade of spruce trees that marked the Kings camp. The smell of a lightly smoking campfire and the gently wafting aroma of athelas greeted their senses as they found their cart suddenly halted by the harsh guttural sounds of orc voices in the distant trees. Merry turned to Pippin in fear, unable to suppress the memories of their treatment at the hands of Saurman's minions, he cried "draw swords Pip, we may see battle yet..." Pippin, only too glad to appease his elder cousin quickly grasped his noldorian blade, his head swiveling from side to side to seek the evil coming their way. He soon saw instead, coming from behind a stand of trees by the rivers, the quiet smile of a familiar face, the sandy haired form of Frodo's friend and gardener. "Sam" he cried "watch out!" as he saw the muscular frame and dark pitted skin of Qurag emerge from the trees. Sam raised a hand in greeting and called out "not to worry Master Pippin, Qurag 'tis a friend of Frodo, he'll do ye no harm" he said trying to soothe the fear from the young hobbit. Merry looked uneasily to the form of the Orc, who had at Merry's insistent warning, frozen. Durzak's hand rested upon his arm in caution, and as they stood quietly amidst the nearby trees, their Orc nature drawn into question, they stayed their bodies and waited . Sam tried again "they'll do ye no harm master Merry" Sam tried to explain, his weary but anxious eyes wanting to impart the goodness of these creatures who'd tried so very hard to keep Frodo from the pain that waited for him..."it'll take some explaining, but trust in this, they are friend...not foe." Merry, looking to the still and quiet stance of these formerly warlike creatures, nodded slowly, hearing the sincerity in Sam's voice and he slowly pried the sword from Pippins hand and motioned his cousin down from the cart. " Sam, we're glad you're here...we thought this was where we'd find ya, but it 'tis good to see you my friend" Merry said as he jumped down from the cart and clasped the gardener in a welcome hug. Pippin stared fearfully at the Orcs a moment and climbing slowly down from the relative safety of his seat upon the cart turned to Sam " Yes Sam, it's good you're here... Where is Frodo ? Is he OK then? How is he?" he asked, his words tumbling from him in a flood of inquiry.
Sam cast his eyes anxiously to a small stand of young spruce near to the camp fire. "Frodo's sore hurt he is, Aragorn's had ta operate once already to reduce his fever,...and feels he may again need to" Sam grimaced and frowned in disgust " he's removed a further portion of his foot to prevent his infection from spreading," he swallowed and clamped his lips to a line straight with worry "he may yet need ta remove more of the infected bone ta bring Frodo from the depth of his fever. " Pippin looked with horror to Merry 'remove more?' he mouthed, not wanting to further upset a clearly distraught Sam. Merry, who'd grown up amidst the harsh realities of life upon a working landholding, knew such things to be prevalent among hobbits of the working class, for accidents of farm and field were not uncommon...although the children of the gentry were often held from such notions of pain and images of deformity, he flashed a softly reassuring smile to his dearest cousin and uttered a brief prayer beneath his breath that Frodo should be able to weather this, his newest storm.
Pippin looked about him, eyes frantically searching the surrounding camp area for the mound of blankets that was sure to be his dearly loved cousin. Images of his vision, pictures in his mind of a pain ravaged Frodo crying out for relief were ever present in his mind and he needed desperately to reconcile his images to the realities of his present circumstances. Sam, noticing Pippins frantic viewing of the camp site reached to take the hobbit lads arm "he's this way Mr. Pippin" he said, his voice filled with soft despair "follow me...Aragorns's placed him in this hollow by the trees, to shelter him from the breezes of the river". Sam, with a head bowed in his reluctant acceptance of the circumstances before him, led Pippin, and a now closely following Merry, to Frodo's resting place. "What has he said to you Sam"? Merry's voice worked hard to sound casual, but he felt a tremor in his words and stopped frozen in amazement at the scene before him near the copse of trees and the soft hollow in the roots of the trees which held Frodo softly nestled within.
Within forty feet of their wagon, there amidst the sheltering roots of a large Spruce tree, nestled in a bed of softly fallen needles, lay the pale and still remnants of the Hobbit the fellowship had sworn to protect. The still form, slight and frail amidst a profusion of blankets, looked as a starved and ailing refugee child from a land at war. The dark curls lay lank and dull upon a face that was pale and damp with the sweat of fever. The body lay so quiet that for a heartbeat Pippin feared they were arrived too late and his strangled cry of grief had a cousins worried arm about him in a flash of seconds as they moved closer to the withered form before them.
Pippin, barely able to catch his breath from worry dropped to his knees and stared at what remained of his once lively and beloved cousin. "Frodo, oh no, Frodo...where have you gone to?" he asked, his voice wavering in it's uncertain questions. The fair haired Took lad gently pulled back the cover of blankets upon his cousin and reached for a hand, a hand that still showed the remnants of another life, nails bitten to the quick, dark stains and callouses marking the passage of his hours as a writer who'd only just begun to resume his passion in the halls of Minas Tirith. Pippin stared with horror at the damp and pale face, cheekbones too prominent and dark circles beneath Frodo's eyes giving the illusion of a death mask and he felt a tear in the corner of his eye. He broke away from his view of Frodo to look for a moment to Merry's face, registering the same shock and horror upon his countenance as he knew himself to be wearing. "What has happened to him Sam" he whispered."has he awoken at all?" he whispered harshly.
Sam, knelt upon the other side of his masters face and bringing a dampened towel to Frodo's forehead said "Men Mr Pippin, Men hurt 'em...he's not said so himself, but he took fearful hurt from his time with 'em...he...he asked me ta end it for him"his last words a strangled whisper as he continued to mechanically wipe the fevered skin. Sam cocked his head to one side and put down the fever rag in favor of his hand as he lightly ran his rough calloused fingers along the delicately sculptured face of his fallen hero, his eyes held a soft and saddened air of inevitability ."I seen him suffer this deep before, in the caves of Mordor I vowed I'd never let no such hurt 'appen to 'im again...my heart tells me he's too good for this world, it's time mayhap I let 'im go...no more pain Frodo me dear, no more pain 'tis all yer Sam is hoping for ya now" his last words were spoken with soft strength and velvety comfort as he bent down to press a light kiss of promise to a forehead lost in its fevered world.
Merry and Pippin exchanged a look of horror, and Merry cleared his throat to speak, his hand gripping a shaking Pip's arm "Sam...don't even speak of such nonsense...Frodo'd not want it, not really...why it 'tis just his pain, his fever speaking Sam" Merry hesitated, uncertain which tact to take, knowing he should gentle the gardener from such notions when all he really wanted was to shake the thought of Frodo's leaving right from him, to throttle the loyal servant just for thinking in such a way. He took a deep breath to steady himselffeeling Pippins firm squeeze of his ownarm in return "Sam" he said, his voice a study in self control "let's give Strider a chance ta heal 'em...what with the King's healing skills and our good hobbit nursing we'll have Frodo dancing in no time." Merry pasted what he hoped was an encouraging grin upon his face and waited for Sam's response.
Sam continued to stroke Frodo's face, his eyes lost in a dream of days gone by as two hobbits, a ranger turned King and two Orcs, former enemies who'd become new found saviorswatched from the shadows. "You don't see it do you?" Sam questioned softly "'Tis not the ills of the body that tax him so...it 'tis his spirit...his light is fading because his spirit sees no more good in this world." Sam stayed the soothing motion of his hand and turned to face them, an agony of conflict shining in his eyes,"and I can't give 'em no more hope when all I see is wickedness...I can't give 'em hope that t'aint there, I jest can't." Sam reached up to rub his forehead and run his hand through his tousled curls and with a deep breath finished his thoughts " he can't live in a world with no hope, he's had ta fight all his life ta scratch out what little light he could find in days gone dark...days with no folks, times of teasing, moments of doubt and blame...but he had hope, always a light from distant stars and tales of noble deeds" Sam paused to check himself, to find just the right words and then he continued. "Now, now the most noble deed of all would be ta let him go, to help him find his way to his peace, to show him the way ta being the lead in his own story of grace and good deeds, and hope that he'll find light in his next word for this one will be forever dark...but, I jest don't know where I'll find the strength to share this final love with 'em." Sam turned once more to Frodo and took his lifeless hand in his and held it to his cheek "oh where Master? Where am I ta find the strength yer needin' most from yer Sam?" and he began to cry, his shoulder shaking with great sobs as his despair overtook him in silent torture.
Merry, his face stony with the knowledge of what his next step needed to be, took Sam's face in his two hand and said " love Sam, love will be the force that pulls 'em back..." the future master of Brandybuck hall straightened his back and took on an air that would broke no nonsense as he continued. "Sam, Frodo has the light of the future...the knowledge that his actions saved a world". Sam nodded and said "aye, but be that as it may Merry, I think those wanting ta help, those that love 'em best in this world...or any other...need more time to think on this...we need more time and according ta Strider that's jest what we don't have" he said, his agony etched in lines of worry upon his sun reddened face.
Merry looked up from his position at Sam's side to see the deeply saddened face of the Ranger who'd been their champion during the many months of the quest. Aragorn, his eyes boring a hole in Merry's heart slowly shook his head and Merry knew that Sam's words were true...Frodo was running out of time.
The three weary travelers struggled to keep one foot going ahead of the other as the day wore on and the heat of the day faded to the early cool of evening. Terren stopped and rested his hand against the flank of the softly snorting pony beside him. He turned to look back, the distance between he and the children was growing again, he would have to wait for them to catch up once more and then perhaps put one of them upon the pack pony. He hated to burden the animal more, but he could see that his fellow travelers were tired beyond complaint and they needed to reach the safety of the far caves before night fell too heavily.He waited for the shuffling steps of the children to come closer, he idly adjusted one of the straps of the pack as he waited and then with an uncanny sense of right and wrong realized that the noise of scuffling feet and the skitter of mindlessly kicked stones was absent. He looked up from the pony, eyes frantically looking, searching the path he'd just traveled. With a sickening lurch in his stomach he saw not just the figures of the children he was charged to protect, but the grimly smiling countenance of six muscled and dark haired men. Terren's eyes opened wide in terror as he watched two of the men remove knifes from their sheaths at their waists and hold them teasingly to the slender white necksof both Garth and Rosetta.Keldor, with a gleam in his eye,walked to the boys side and reached forward to gently fondle the lad's dark curls before slowly entwining his fingers in Garth's chestnut curls as he yanked the fearful head back and looked into his eyes "did you miss me lad?" he asked mockingly and his men slowly smiled as their captain's laughter rang out over the stark landscape.