Chapter 4 – A new dawn
Elrond was already issuing instructions as he entered the room. "We must ready a warm bath to immerse him. I will need to raise his temperature before I dare attempt any surgery. And it is yet too dark."
Elrohir had already anticipated his father's needs and before the fire sat a small filled tub. On a rack at the hearth were hung cloths and towels to warm and Elrohir was readying the bed with hot wrapped stones and water bottles. A table filled with medicines stood nearby. He looked up as his father swept into the room, his blue grey eyes going at once to the pathetic bundle in Elrond's arms.
"Adar, what else may I do to help?"
Frodo remained quiet, feeling as cold as a mortal body many hours past death, and Elrohir would have thought his fight lost were it not for his father's evident concern.
"Help me to undress and put him into the warm water. He has been stabbed by a Morgul blade. Have you my surgical pack?" Wasting no time, Elrond lowered the tiny hobbit onto the huge bed, unwrapping his cloak and picking at the buttons of Frodo's still damp jacket.
Their father's news elicited a sharp intake of breath from both twins and Elrohir bent to help as Elrond continued. "From the words I exchanged with . . . a representative of our enemy . . . I believe a splinter from the knife is moving towards his heart."
"Your instruments are on the table, Adar." Elrohir worked swiftly, easing off Frodo's breeches. From the foot of the bed Elladan could only watch.
"Adar . . . he is smaller even than Bilbo . . . how could he withstand for so long?" That this diminutive mortal had withstood not only the poison of a Morgul wound but was resisting a shard of the knife that had dealt that wound was incredible to the elf. But Elrond had no time to answer.
Waistcoat and shirt swiftly followed jacket until the pale form lay exposed at last. Through it all Frodo made not even a whimper, lying unresisting as they moved him this way and that. The bandage was cut away and the wound on his shoulder lay fully exposed to the light at last. Still open, although it no longer bled, the flesh surrounding it was now shot through with a fine network of black and red filaments, stretching across almost to the centre of his chest and down into his arm.
With infinite tenderness the elven healer lifted Frodo. The tiny arms and legs hung limply, his head lolling upon Elrond's arm like a child's abandoned rag doll. He was quickly wrapped in a warmed blanket and for the first time since the Fords, Frodo stirred. The little hobbit's trembling resumed and soft whimpers escaped his cracked lips, welcome signs of life despite the obvious pain.
The twins barely managed to avoid averting their eyes, still and silent, before the sight of the pitiful mortal. Their father, in contrast, looked down at the little figure, settling him in the crook of one arm as he stroked Frodo's brow in comfort.
"I am sorry, Tithen Pen. I know you are in pain. I will try to help you soon."
Elrohir was first twin to stir, retrieving some leaves from the table of medical supplies. "We have Athelas, fresh culled from the garden. Shall I add them to the bath water?"
"Yes." Elrond looked up at his other son, who was still watching, silent. "Elladan, please go to my room. In my dresser drawer, you will find a fine mithril chain. Thread the Ring upon it. I believe it is to be found in his waistcoat breast pocket." Elrond's next instruction was issued in a tone that left no room for error. "Do not touch the ring with bare flesh and even then handle it as little as possible."
"Yes Adar." Elladan replied in a tone of absolute obedience. Within minutes, Elrohir had added the Athelas to Frodo's bath and was unbuckling his father's armour by the time his brother returned.
Elladan fished the Ring from Frodo's waistcoat, using a square of silk to hold it as he threaded it swiftly onto the fine chain, deftly adjusting his grip to hold Isildur's Bane for only the instant it took to pass the chain through its centre. Elrond saw the grimace as his son felt the touch of such evil, even through the layers of protecting silk. Then he watched in growing disquiet as the grimace turned to wonder.
"Elladan." His father's voice stung like the crack of a whip, instantly drawing him back from the brink. "Pay no heed to its promises. They are only the illusion of light to hide a pit of darkness."
Elladan nodded tersely, dropping the ring at once and letting it dangle from his fingers, held some distance from him upon its new chain.
If Frodo understood what was happening he did not or could not express it. Elrond's gentle presence seemed to calm him a little but he still emitted little mews of pain, tensing and shivering. Heavy eyelids fluttered but did not lift even at Elrond's raised voice.
Once Elrohir had finished extricating his father from his light armour Frodo was carried to the tub, unwrapped and lowered slowly into the warm water. Elrond supported him there for a few moments, trying to reinforce the bright chord tying the hobbit to his protector and satisfied when he heard the tiny glimmer of song, a faint tentative few notes. Even so the little one was frightened, fragile, and barely able to discern flickering starlight from the dark cloud threatening to overwhelm him.
Taking up a cloth, the healer sleuced warm water over Frodo's shoulders, paying particular care to the left. All the while his heart listened to the faint song of the soul strung so carefully to his. Accepting a small cake of soap from Elladan, Elrond began the task of cleansing Frodo of the grime of his journey. Even his hair was washed, the mop of dark curls rinsed with a fresh jug of warm water.
As his father tended Frodo, Elrohir added Athelas to basins of hot water set about the room, releasing a wholesome scent and adding warmth and moisture to the air to ease their charge's breathing. Pulling a large thirsty towel from the warming rack Elrond finally lifted Frodo from the tub and wrapped him closely.
"Just a little longer, Frodo."
The warmth had wrought the tiniest of improvements in the hobbit and he stirred, although his breathing was still ragged and uneven. No colour had returned to the alabaster features however, and he remained as pale as death. The bath had brought some warmth back to Frodo's body but his poisoned left side was still icy cold.
Elrohir watched. "Would some warm broth help?"
His father's voice held a note of approval. "Add some miruvor to the broth. We will try him with a few spoonfuls but I dare not wait too much longer before attempting to destroy the shard. It draws closer to his heart." As if to underline the healer's statement, Frodo was shaken by another chill.
Elrond lowered him onto warmed sheets and pillows, removing the damp towel before pushing hot water bottles close and covering the trembling form. Meanwhile Elrohir did as instructed, bringing the mixture to the bedside.
Although the warmth seemed to ease Frodo, as soon as Elrond let him go he cried out, his breathing worsening. The elven lord's smooth brow furrowed slightly, and then he pushed back the covers and lifted Frodo into his arms once more. Elrohir watched in amazement as his father settled upon the bed, pulled a pillow across his lap and laid the hobbit upon it, drawing the blankets up to cover them both. Frodo's breathing eased and, thus comforted; he went limp against the pillow with a small sigh.
Letting go a relieved sigh of his own the healer met his sons questioning eyes. "Touch seems to reinforce the bond between us."
When Elrohir's face reflected his brother's confusion Elrond explained further. "He was failing. The only way I could hold him to life was to tie him to my own fea. I will release him when he is strong enough."
Elladan was shocked. "Was that wise, Adar? He could yet be overcome?"
Elrond's reply brooked no further questions. "We still have a little time before that happens."
Elladan looked as though he would pursue the issue but at that moment Elrohir stepped forward with the cup, handing it to his father who held it to Frodo's lips, looking for some response from the hobbit.
"Try just a little, Frodo. It will warm you." He trickled a few drops between lax lips and watched closely for the swallow reflex, experiencing considerable relief when it came.
Although he had not the strength to reply to his carer Frodo swallowed as though parched. He had taken little fluid in many days and almost anything was welcome. The savoury drink coursed warmly through his blood, imparting a little strength at last.
"Slowly, Tithen Pen . . . here," whispered the elf as he offered more. Grey eyes, icy and hard as forged steel before the Witch King only hours before, were now as soft as warm summer rain.
Both Elladan and Elrohir observed, as their father managed to coax the hobbit into accepting sustenance. The twin's voices were low as they expressed their awe once more.
"How could someone so small withstand both ring and blade for so long?"
"He looks almost like a child."
"And yet he is an adult and he most certainly did not behave as a child when confronted with The Nine," their father advised firmly. "And he can hear you", he chided. If Frodo could indeed hear them he made no acknowledgement, concentrating all his energies upon accepting much needed fluid.
Elrond glanced up as he noticed the first intimation of his shadow upon the wall, turning to the long windows in time to see a pale, pre dawn glow outlining the jagged edges of the surrounding mountain peaks.
"It is time," he announced simply.
A feather light touch of warm fingers brushed Frodo's cheek. "I hope you can understand me, Frodo. I need you to lie very still while I work. I am going to attempt to dissolve the shard of the Morgul blade within you." He waited, watching the pale face intently for any sign of understanding.
His reward was the faintest flutter of heavy eyelashes and Frodo whimpered, curling more tightly in Elrond's lap. Then came a voice; faint but Frodo's nonetheless. "I'll . . . try."
Gentle hands turned Frodo onto his back and Elrond folded back the covers to expose his pale chest with its mottled stain. It no longer rose and fell in desperate gasps, instead, hardly moving at all with each inspiration.
From the table at the bedside the healer selected a dark glass bottle and removed the tightly rag sealed stopper, releasing acrid fumes that made Elrohir draw back suddenly, in alarm. It was Elladan who handed over a dropper, which his father filled with thick black liquid, wiping away excess fluid before resting it in a waiting dish and replacing the stopper firmly.
Elrond took a deep breath, his grey eyes focussing on some unseen point in the distance as he moved his hand scant inches above Frodo's chest, finally bringing one finger to rest at a point just to the left of the small sternum.
Elrohir's eyes widened. "So close?"
His father nodded calmly as he lifted a small sharp knife and glanced at the window. "I dare wait no longer," he announced.
The first direct rays of the sun flashed upon the edge of the finely honed blade, cleansing it as the healer brought it down swiftly. So sharp was it that it met no resistance from Frodo's flesh, biting down cleanly to make a small, deep incision. Few but elven hands could have found such an unerring path between bone, artery and organ. A faint, dull "chink" sounded as blade met blade.
There was a sharp cry from Frodo but Elrohir placed steady hands upon him, to prevent any motion as his father worked. Tears flowed freely from beneath Frodo's thick lashes and he sobbed, his breathing ragged once more as he cried out in pain.
Elrond was all business now and only paused to issue a terse warning to his charge as he set aside the blade, now gored with Frodo's blood. "This will hurt." Frodo could not imagine being in any more pain than he was at present.
To the twins Elrond simply said, "Do not inhale the fumes."
With blood slick fingers either side of the fresh wound he prised the edges apart while inserting the dropper to deposit some of the viscous black liquid at the very base of the incision. A tiny column of vile smelling pale green smoke spiralled upwards.
The sharp wail this elicited caused the twins to wince. Frodo did not struggle against Elrohir's restraint . . . but his sobs shifted to a keening cry, an eerie, heartbreaking wailing. This time Elladan did look away . . . unable to bear the sight and wishing he could turn away from the sound as easily.
As soon as the smoke dissipated Elrond gathered Frodo to him, headless of the blood on his fine clothing, rubbing the shaking back and rocking gently, murmuring low.
"It is over. The splinter is dissolved and I will inflict no further pain upon you, I promise. Shhhhh. Just a soft bandage and then you may rest."
Frodo cried out no more, simply releasing breathless sobs against his caregiver's chest. When he judged his charge calmed sufficiently the healer lowered Frodo back onto his pillow and placed some pads of clean linen over both wounds, fixing them in place with a wide soft bandage.
"Elladan, please bring me the Ring and a small cup of miruvor."
As his brother obeyed, Elrohir carefully wiped the blood from his father's hands.
Elladan obliged, carrying the Ring by its chain, scrupulously avoiding even eye contact with the evil object. As Elrond accepted it a beam of sunlight touched the gold and he found himself considering it for several moments, head tilted to one side, listening. The fingers of one elegant hand moved inexorably towards the gleaming metal and his sons held their breath.
There was a small gasp and Elrond found his gaze drawn down into deep blue eyes. Frodo laid quietly looking up at him, a strange mixture of hope, fear and longing in the pain shadowed azure. Elrond, the Lord of Imladris shook his head slightly, as if to rid it of an unwelcome voice and quickly slipped the chain over Frodo's head.
For his part the Ringbearer's eyes slid shut once more and he whimpered weakly with discontent. His breathing seemed to worsen, as though the Ring weighed heavily upon his chest, although he did accept the proffered liquid.
"You should sleep now, Frodo."
Slowly, the cornflower blue eyes opened again. Frodo stared up at Elrond, blinking slowly, bemused by pain. "Can't," he whispered faintly.
"If you are in too much pain I can give you a tincture."
Frodo shook his head as Elrond made to rise. "Please stay." The fingers of the hobbit's right hand clung to the edge of Elrond's robe. "I'm sorry . . . please, I know it . . . sounds foolish, but . . . I don't want to be left alone yet."
Elrond's gaze fell upon the golden circle, quiescent now and seeming so innocent where it lay upon Frodo's chest.
"Please." Frodo's tone was desperate . . . the hobbit fairly begging.
For a long moment Elrond considered. "I will stay."
Blue eyes slid shut upon a soft sigh. Elrond settled him more comfortably upon the pillow and Frodo's breathing began to grow steady and calm at last.
The ancient healer leaned back; small form resting trustingly in his lap, and remembered happier days from his own long life. Once he and Celebrian had sat thus, a tiny dark haired son curled in each of their laps. If The One was destroyed he could be with Celebrian once more, sons at their side. But would Arwen be there? And would they be leaving a Middle earth of darkness or of light?
Elrond looked upon the now slumbering form as he recalled the vivid dream that had thrust him out into the wilds in search of Frodo Baggins. Elrond had informed only one other of that vision. Galadriel keep her own council however, and if she discerned more, she revealed nothing to Elrond.
He would have advised Gandalf but no word had been heard from the grey pilgrim for many weeks, a situation which Elrond found uncomfortable. But speed was of the essence now so tomorrow he would go ahead with the council meeting the vision had shown him and hope that Mithrandir would arrive in time.
On the morrow he would cut loose Frodo's fea but Elrond knew that he would continue to hear hobbit and ring until both reached their end. Of the manner of that ending Elrond's vision had revealed nothing. He hoped that it would not be that hobbit and ring ended together. Then he recalled the emotions swirling in those blue eyes as The One hung between them and a part of him wondered if it would not be kinder thus.
THE END