Title: Intoxication

Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd/FBoBE/"Febobe")

E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com

Characters: Frodo, Elrond, various others in cameos or secondary roles.

Rating: M for serious angst, alcohol abuse and addiction, painful and vivid PTSD and depressive symptoms as well as memories of violence and possibly some violent behaviour. Follows FrodoHealers standards - no sexual content, no slashiness, no profanity.

Warnings: Serious angst and some graphic medical detail, including vomiting, diarrhea, post-traumatic stress and depressive symptoms, and alcoholism. May be triggering for those easily squicked or for whom alcoholism is an emotionally distressing subject. No profanity or sexual content, slash or het. May include memories of violence or violent behaviour. No character death.

Summary: Following the Quest, Frodo's difficulty in adjusting drives him to excessive drinking and overindulgence. Is there hope that he can yet be helped, or is the pain of life after the Ring simply too great?

Feedback: Reviews are welcome, but (a) no flaming, please – flames will be used to warm Frodo's chilled body, and (b) I do this as a hobby, for pleasure, so before you take me to task about whether something "isn't canon" or "doesn't feel thematic" or how I left out a comma in paragraph 7 or made a typo in paragraph 3, please ask yourself whether that's really helpful. I'm not interested in being a canon purist or perfect – if I were, I wouldn't write this kind of thing; I'd just leave Frodo alone. In short – if you want to tell me you liked it, by all means, tell me, but if you just want to tell me how much better you would write Frodo, then go write your own stories with Frodo. (And if they're Frodo h/c, and suitable, by all means submit them to FrodoHealers. 😉 We could use some activity over there!)

Story Notes: Inspired in part by an RP (roleplay) session I did with Elwen circa 2014. If you haven't checked out her stories, you should - they're wonderful. :) I set up this scenario and threw myself into the angst full force, and she, as usual, rose to the challenge even more admirably than I had anticipated. :) Thanks, Elwen. 3 (You may interpret that as either a heart or a Frodo bottom. See in it what you will, but it's a compliment!)

For permission to reproduce any part of this fanfic, please contact Febobe.

DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original characters, such as (but not limited to) Lossmeril, are my own work; please do not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom. No slash is intended or implied in this story.

INTOXICATION

Chapter 2: Discovered

The door opened and shut quietly, and soft foot-steps approached my bed. I felt a light weight brush the bed as Elrond sat, in the easy way that elves seemed to have of sitting without causing the bed to shift. For a moment he was silent.

"Will you tell me what is the matter, tithen min? I have not seen you in more than passing since my arrival, and yet I have seen that you do not seem well."

I hesitated. What could I say? I did not wish to talk about nightmares and memories he could not relieve. I did not want to talk about the pains I had which everyone dismissed, saying there was no sign of poor healing in my body. I did not think anyone could wish to hear about my upset stomach, and I knew if I mentioned it, he would ask what I was eating. I certainly did not want to talk about my drinking or the means by which I obtained my drink. But - part of me longed for his comfort.

"I hurt," I said at last. "But everyone says I am fine. So I must be imagining it, I suppose."

"Others may not see the truth, Frodo. But that does not mean that what they do not see does not exist."

Did that mean he believed me? "Aragorn will not give me medicines for it," I said. "I have asked. He sends me a posset at night for sleep, and that is all."

"Aragorn is mindful of many things in this hour, but not of all. Are you doing anything to ease your pain?"

I debated how to answer that.

"I drink a little wine," I said at last. "Or brandy. It helps."

"How much is a little, Frodo?"

Blast! "Some. A few glasses."

"Even a few glasses will affect someone your size more than they would someone Aragorn's size, or mine. And so long as you are drinking, it may limit what medicines could be given you for pain. Alcohol can interfere with some medicines' ability to help without harming. To take both strong medicine and much wine for your size could make you more ill, or even kill you."

Would that be so terrible? I wondered, aching inside. At least then I might have an end to the pain, to the memories of shadow and fear and cold and thirst.

"Will you permit me to have a look at you?" asked Elrond gently. "If I can help you, I will, provided you will let me."

I wasn't certain what his reaction would be if he smelled the wine on my breath. Most likely he already could, being an elf. But I needed help, any way I could get it, and if he was going to turn on me, he would do so whether he learned more or not. Perhaps it would be best to let him try. Any help would be better than what I had had so far, which was none to speak of, really.

"If you want," I said, and pushed the top of the covers down a little, peeking out at him.

He smiled gently, though there was something sad in his expression. With a fluid motion, he opened his arms.

"Come here," he said. "Let me see what they have done to you, little one."

I couldn't help it. A sob caught in my throat, and I crawled out from beneath the blankets and into his welcoming arms. At once he pulled me close and held me to him.

"Ai, little one," I heard him whisper. "What pain have you hidden from the world?"

I couldn't speak. He began to undress me, easing away my waist-coat and shirt, though his touch felt so comfortable that I did not mind the air against my skin. I stiffened as I felt him trace the spot where Shelob had stung me in the back of my neck, and the whip-weals along my back and side, and the scars which still lingered from the Ring upon its chain. Last of all his fingers brushed the Morgul-wound scar upon my shoulder, and the place where he had cut into my body to dig out the fragment of blade.

I could not help it. I felt overwhelmed. I wept.

Elrond cradled me against him and simply rocked me back and forth for a while.

"You have held much inside, have you not?" he asked at last.

I could only nod a little. My chest hurt. I felt as if I might lose my breath at any moment. An ache seemed to press upon me from somewhere deep inside.

"It hurts," I gasped at last. "It hurts."

Elrond rubbed my back. "Tell me."

"Nothing helps. No one can help." And yet even as I said the words, I realised that someone was at least trying. "I can't make it stop," I ventured after a moment. "The - the nightmares. The - memories. They come back every day and every n-night, and I c-can't s-stop th-them."

"Can you tell me a little about them? As much as you can."

"Shadow," I gulped. "Fire. The Eye. Being thirsty and starving and cold. Sometimes burning hot. Sometimes I am m-marching w-with the orcs again, h-hot and th-thirsty and s-so t-tired, and I f-feel faint. Sometimes - " I realised that I did not know how much of my journey Elrond had been told, but I did not care whether my words made sense or not. They tumbled out like hobbit-children running in a game. "Sometimes I d-dream of b-being at the fire again, or I f-feel suddenly the sense of G-Gollum, tearing at my f-finger w-with his t-teeth."

Elrond continued to hold me close, rubbing my back, stroking my hair. "And no one knows of these troubles?"

"No one. I - I could not b-bear to burden Sam. And A-Aragorn is always so b-busy, and G-Gandalf too."

"And what did you do, when these pains began to trouble you, and no one to listen?"

"I drank." I was not quite sure why I was admitting this. Something about Elrond always seemed to draw the truth out of me, ever since I met him, whether I had planned to tell it or not. "I - Aragorn would not let me have very much to drink. So I - took it. It was the only way I could make it easier to bear."

Elrond was quiet for a few minutes, so much so that I began to fear I had offended him.

"Would you let me help you with your pain?" he asked at last. "If I do all I can to bring you comfort, will you permit me to do so, and to help you ease away from using drink to calm yourself?"

I hesitated. I could not bear the thought of abandoning the wine when it was the only thing to have helped at all.

"Would I have to - stop it - altogether?" I asked nervously.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Elrond stroked my hair. "It may be that a little wine may still be permissible at times. But I think that we can help you find better ways to comfort yourself than something with so much power to harm you. And drinking will keep you from getting as much benefit from nourishment as you need. You are too thin even now, so many weeks after Aragorn brought you back."

I made a face. "Aragorn says I can only have a little plain food even now. He won't let me *eat*. If I want anything good, I have to go and find it myself."

"Does it ever trouble your stomach?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes. But so does what he sends. Sometimes the drink seems to do it. Sometimes if I don't have drink for too long I get sick too. I don't know what causes it. Sometimes I get sick just from memories. I smell that horrid stench of orc-sweat again, or the inside of the mountain, and Gollum, and then I throw up till there is nothing left in my stomach."

"Perhaps I may be able to help. Would you like to hear what I would do, with your permission?"

I could not help being curious. Elrond was at least the first person who had listened to me, really listened, since I was allowed out of bed. "What is it?"

"I think that you should allow me to look after you, just as you did when you were so ill in Rivendell last autumn. I will tell the others that you are very ill, which is truth - that it is not catching, but that you must have rest, and quiet, and visitors only when you and I agree that you are up to them. I will order food for you - we will discuss what might sound good to you, and what you might be able to eat, and we will ensure that you have an appropriate amount of suitable food and plenty of fresh water. You can always tell me what is troubling you, and perhaps there are medicines or treatments I can offer which may ease the pains in your mind and body. Some you will swallow; some I can put into soothing baths; some I can use in massaging you. Others will be different: you may talk to me, and you may share anything and everything that is in your heart, and feel safe in the telling. And perhaps we may try pleasant activities, when you feel well enough - books to look at, stories and songs to enjoy, walks in the garden. And - is there anything which troubles you most, which you would like me to help you with now?"

"The nights." Something wrenched loose inside me, and I could not help beginning to weep afresh. "The nights are so terrible. When I have nightmares, and then I wake up, alone, with only the memories - then I have to drink to dull it enough to sleep again, to forget. Please. I cannot bear being alone in the dark and terrible nights."

"Ai, little one!" Elrond cradled me close. "You should never have been left alone in the night, not since your journey. I promise that you will never be left alone to face the shadows again. Not unless you ever wish it."

Relief washed over me. Elrond was here. Whether or not he could make the pain go away, at least I would not have to face another dreadful night alone in the dark.

-to be continued-