The daylight pulled me from my sleep. It was early in the morning. I opened my eyes and suddenly became aware of the suffocating pain that engulfed my chest. I gasped, then pressed my lips together as my body contorted against the pain. I remembered a dream I'd had; that Gandalf had not died, and was seated beside me and spoke to me. I looked to the spot he had been in the dream, and it frightened me to actually find him sitting in that exact place. My eyes were wide and staring at his face.
"Is this a dream?" I asked, in a whisper.
"No, this is all quite real." He replied, smiling.
I reached out to touch him, and I was almost sure he would simply fade away, but he didn't. I shook my head, slowly.
"How?" I asked, in awe, "How did you…" I trailed off.
"All in good time, my dear boy…" He said gently, patting my hand. "All in good time."
I stared at him in disbelief and wanted to smile, but the pain ensured such an expression would not form.
I said his name, but no sound came from my lips. Ryndil entered the room and quickly greeted me, checking my vitals. An exceptionally uncomfortable throb raced through my torso and I pulled my hand from Gandalf's grip to clutch my chest. I slipped my hand into my shirt and felt the area from which the most intense pain radiated. There were bandages wrapped around my chest and an area that stung fiercely, like it had been cut open. I became panicked again as I considered what might've been done to me.
The pace of my breathing quickened and Ryndil pulled my hand out of my shirt and continued to examine me. Each breath I took sent a sharp sting through my chest that seemed to spread through my whole body. I struggled to inhale and began to shake and sweat. Extreme anxiety and pain drowned me, and seeing Gandalf alive was just too much for me to handle at the time. I think he must have realised this, because he made an excuse to leave.
"Would you like to see anyone in particular?" Gandalf said, leaning close so I wouldn't have to strain my voice as much.
"...Aragorn." I said.
I wanted to know what happened to me and I knew Aragorn would tell me, whereas perhaps Ryndil would not.
"Then I shall get him."
Gandalf smiled pleasantly and placed his hand on my head before leaving the room. Ryndil tried his hardest to get me to relax.
"It's over." I thought, trying to calm myself, "We're alive and safe and it is over."
I had no perception of time and it seemed Aragorn entered a handful of seconds after Gandalf had left. In an instant, he was at my side.
"Hello, Frodo."
I looked into his eyes trying to find the words in my befuddled mind to ask him what had transpired after I had been put to sleep. He could tell that I wanted to speak.
"What is it?" He asked.
"I- I can't breathe. It- it hurts." I clutched my chest again, "Why?" I asked.
"...You may have some bruising in your lung." Ryndil told me, his arms crossed over his chest.
Aragorn knew I would not be satisfied with so vague an answer, so he continued where Ryndil had stopped.
"A few of your ribs were fractured and one had become misaligned. It was in danger of puncturing your lung, so-" Aragorn hesitated and glanced at Ryndil, trying to find the words to put it as gently as he could, then looked as if he came to the conclusion that there was no pleasant way to put it and continued;
"...So they opened your chest, joined the ends of the bone and bound them together." He said, sitting back in his chair.
My eyes strayed from their place on Aragorn's face as I went over his words a second time in my head.
"Oh…" Was the only thing I could say in response.
There was a moment of utter silence, where no one spoke at all.
"...Bound them? ...Inside?" I asked quietly, in afterthought.
"The bonds will dissolve in time." Ryndil said, blinking slowly.
I shifted uncomfortably at the thought of it all.
Aragorn had to leave eventually, but Ryndil tended to me tediously throughout the morning.
I was like an infant. I couldn't do anything for myself and could scarcely be left alone. Ryndil had me try to stand at one point, but I couldn't. Not at all. My muscles were stiff and painfully cramped. My legs went limp, and I had to be picked up and put back in the bed. If I had not been so worn, exhausted and in such pain, I would've been embarrassed at how useless I was. Ryndil fed me more broth, and the awful empty ache that had lingered in my stomach for days had finally begun to subside a bit. After I finished, he poured some oil that smelled of lavender into his hands and carefully rubbed it into my neck and the exposed areas of my chest. It seemed to help with the discomfort near the incision site and it relaxed me.
This will be a long morning… I thought, And a long night after…
I was right. The rest of the day was mainly a blur. I spent the most of it barely conscious, in a highly medicated stupor. I hated feeling so dazed and disoriented, but what was worse was the intense pain I was left with if I didn't take the medicine.
At around midday, the bandages around my chest were changed. Ryndil cut carefully through them, and eventually the freshly stitched scar was revealed. Though it was neatly finished, the wound itself was ugly and messy; covered in a mixture of both new and old blood. It made me sick to look at, so I turned my attention to the scenery outside of the window. Ryndil did a fine job of cleaning it up with warm water, and afterwards he spread a thick, jelly-like substance on it before wrapping new bandages around my chest.
I felt as if my actions and thoughts were sluggish and delayed while the world flashed past me at a great speed. I had a few visitors and vaguely recall Gimli being among them, but I was left alone to rest by order of Ryndil for most of the day. I did not do much resting though, and rather found myself more often lying in the bed, lost in my thoughts, watching the sunshine shift across the landscape through the large window across from my bed as the day went on. The hours blended into one, and soon it was evening.
I finally got some sleep, but it was again filled with nightmares;
I dreamt that Sam and I were back in Mordor. We were captured by orcs and tortured. It was so real to me that I could almost feel the sting of whip lashes on my skin. Suddenly, the largest of them all approached Sam with an axe and swung with great force. I yelled out in the dream and woke myself up making the same sound, my face wet with tears. It still seemed so real. Ryndil tried to comfort me.
"Sam…" I said again and again.
I couldn't remember where he was. I couldn't tell what was real and what was a dream. Ryndil hushed me and helped me decipher reality.
The sun was beginning to set. It was a beautiful sunset, the clouds were illuminated with a golden, purple and pink glow. Perhaps it was more beautiful to my eyes than anyone else's. Up on the mountainside I was sure I would never see another sunset, that I would never again see anything good or beautiful in this world. But here I was. Somehow alive. Watching the last bit of color drain from the sky and sink into the horizon. I was awake for hours more but have no recollection of what occurred during that time.
Much later, the medicine seemed to be wearing off, because I finally had some clarity of mind, and also the pain was returning slowly. Time became a blur again until someone entered the room. He looked to be a healer, yet one I had not seen before.
"Ryndil," He said, quietly, as Ryndil turned and stepped closer to him, "Samwise is asking about Frodo. He wants to see him."
I sat up a bit, straining to hear.
"Frodo is not well enough to receive visitors at the moment." Ryndil told him.
"He is insistent. He woke from a bad dream and can't be consoled."
"I was just about to administer Frodo's medicine and have him rest."
"Wait! Please- I want to see him." I interjected
Ryndil hesitated, but then nodded to the other man, who disappeared around the corner. He was back presently with Sam in his arms. Sam's head was bandaged and he looked worn, but still much better than he had the night before. The healer came close and I used all my strength to move to my left on the bed. Sam's healer realised I was making room for him and placed my friend down beside me.
Sam was clearly distressed, unable to escape the dark feeling that lingered over him from the nightmare. A melancholy and sympathetic smile formed on my lips and I clasped his shoulder, then pulled him close and we hugged each other for a long time, so terribly aware of the other's suffering, but we were alive. We had made it. We were safe.
"Oh, Frodo... I had an awful dream that you-"
"I know. I've had them too. But they're only dreams." I said, releasing him from my grip at last.
He still looked distressed. I looked him in the eye and spoke.
"I'm right here, Sam. We're alright." I said earnestly.
I laid back against the pillows and he did the same. He rubbed his eyes and held his temples for a moment.
"Frodo, I need to change your bandages." Ryndil said, quietly.
I nodded, and he pulled the covers back a bit and helped me sit up. He unbuttoned my shirt and slid it off my shoulders and cut through the gauze binding, and just as the wound was revealed, Sam casually lowered his hand from his face and glanced at my chest. He looked away, but then jerked his head back toward it as he realised what he had seen. His eyes widened as they settled on the bloody incision.
"Oh- Mister Frodo... How- How long have you had that?!" Sam asked, compassionate and concerned.
"Just since last night... I- I had to have... An operation." I explained, trying not to frighten him.
He swallowed, then placed a comforting hand on my arm as Ryndil cleaned the wound.
"Does it hurt much?" Sam asked.
"I'm alright…" I told him, though I was unable to repress a wince as the cloth was pressed against the wound.
Ryndil spread more jelly over it, then applied a new bandage and laid me down.
Once there was a lull, Sam's healer (who I would later come to know by the name of Darrion) stepped forward and spoke quietly;
"Come, Samwise. You should rest."
"Oh, but- I just- Couldn't I stay for just a bit longer?" Sam said, glancing at me, then back at his healer, hopefully.
"Let him. He can stay with me tonight." I said.
Sam's healer was opposed to the idea at first, but Ryndil convinced him it might help us get some rest if we were together, since we hadn't been separated in months. Ryndil gave me another dose of medicine to ward off pain, and Sam was given something to relax his nerves and help him sleep. The fire began to die out, and I was glad, as it was very bright in the room with it burning and not conducive to sleep. It was still quite warm enough without it. Sam settled into the bed and pulled the covers over himself. He turned onto his side and shut his eyes, and after a few minutes passed, I spoke.
"...I don't deserve a friend as noble and kind as you, Sam."
"Shh... Go to sleep, Mr. Frodo…" He said, dismissing my comment.
The room was silent. The only sounds were the slight crackle of the remaining embers in the fireplace and the occasional shift of blankets.
"...I love you, you know." I told him.
"I know." He said and smiled slightly, "I love you, too."
"Good-night."
"G'night."
For the first time in many weeks I felt a sense of true hope again. Our mission was over. We were alive and safe and it was over. We could breathe more freely in knowing that soon we would return home and we could begin to heal, and I found myself once again able to believe we could find healing, in time- And we had time, now; something that we had not had during the long journey.
The moonlight filled the room and I listened to the last crackles of the fire until all the sights and sound faded into a tranquil lull.
My last thoughts before falling asleep were of all the wonderful food back home.
Bread pudding with cranberry sauce… And golden roasted chicken with vegetables…
"Sam must make one of his sweet potato pies when we get home." I thought to myself, as I began to dream.