REPOST

Medical Disclaimers: All treatments, including
herbology, have been thoroughly researched.
However, said treatments are used here only for
fictional purposes and should not be tried at home.

Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 7

Gandalf and Aragorn broke into a run. Sam who was cradled
like a child on Aragorn's hip, thumped painfully against
the man as he took huge, lunging strides up the incline
and around the circle leading to the gate on the seventh
level. He grasped tightly to Aragorn's neck,
determined not to cry out although great fiery shots of
pain coursed through his body from the motion.
They were within sight now of the gate. Two guards
were on watch and immediately came to attention.

"Have you seen the Ring bearer or anything untoward
this night?" panted Aragorn.

"No, my Lord, all has been peaceful this night,"
replied the first guard. Aragorn harumphed at the irony
of the guard's statement, knowing it had been anything but. The second guard was giving discreet sidelong glances at his companion. He cleared
his throat. The first guard gave him an alarmed look.

"You have something to add, young sir?" asked
Gandalf with a piercing gaze.

"Please my Lord, I wish not to lose my position and
perhaps it is of no import...,” murmured the second
guard.

"Speak! What *are* you mumbling about, young
man?" Gandalf scolded, looking irritated.

The young soldier was terrified. Not only was he
about to tell the King but also the White Wizard of his
minor dereliction to duty. His compatriot gave him a
withering look, hoping his friend would not regale the
two sires with what had occurred earlier.

"My dear man, if I were to guarantee *no*
repercussions whatsoever," Gandalf gave a pointed
look at Aragorn, who raised an eyebrow in return, “ would you *please* tell us of *anything* that occurred
this eve that was out of the ordinary?" Gandalf spoke
softly but his voice had an edge to it that was hard to
ignore. The young guard turned towards the King
going down on one knee, his eyes beseeching.

"My Lord, have mercy. I left my post earlier for only a
moment as we heard noises in the brush," he said.

Aragorn looked down at the young soldier in
amusement. "Rise, I am not angry with you and I am
not interested, *currently*, " he looked pointedly at
Gandalf "in whatever deviation to duty you have
performed. I am, however, *very* worried about a
dear friend, so tell us quickly of these 'noises'," said
Aragorn.

"Yes, my Lord. We heard rocks falling on the roadway
and rustling in the brush so we left our posts for a
moment to investigate. Our search was in vain and we
returned quickly to our posts here at the gate”, the
guard finished hurriedly.

Aragorn looked at the guard. "You saw no one sneak
past you through the gate?"

"No, my Lord, but we were over there," he pointed
off towards the bushes, “only for a moment, and could not see the gate
clearly."

"I think it was him," said Sam softly in Aragorn's ear.
"It's what I woulda' done, I mean to say, sir," he
finished.

Aragorn turned and smiled at Sam. "I agree Sam; it's
what I would've done as well… a simple yet, obviously
successful, distraction." Sam smiled hopefully at
Aragorn.

"Very well, please follow us, we may need your
assistance”, said Aragorn to the guards.

"As you wish, my Lord," they said in unison. They glanced at each
other in relief.

Aragorn, Sam, Gandalf and now the two new
acquisitions ran through the gate and towards the
Citadel. Aragorn stopped so fast that the rest of the
entourage nearly collided with him. Upon the wall
stood the Ring bearer, swaying in the breeze, his cloak
billowing behind him, holding the pendant from the
Queen Arwen, out over the precipice.

Aragorn gasped at the wretched appearance of his
friend. His face was covered in dirt and blood as sweat
matted his chestnut curls to his head, running in rivulets down
his forehead. His eyes were glazed over as he bent forward, shivering violently. His cloak and nightshirt were plastered to his small frame with the perspiration only known by the very ill. Water still
dripped from his clothing, evidence of his recent swim
in the pond. Even from where Aragorn stood, he could
see the scrapes and cuts that covered the hands, legs,
and feet of the former Ring bearer. Aragorn’s eyes were
drawn to the right hand that still held Sting. The blade was slick with bright red blood from the bleeding stump of Frodo’s right hand.
Sam gasped and wriggled to be set down. Aragorn
hushed him, while holding his other hand back towards the group
to show he wished them to stand still. Sam was crying
and Aragorn knelt down on the ground releasing him
from his hip. He held Sam by the shoulders and spoke
softly in his ear, although Sam's eyes were fixed on
Frodo, he nodded to Aragorn as he spoke.

"Sam, you may have more luck at getting him down off
that wall than any of us. His position is even more
precarious than it appears, my friend," Aragorn said, referring to
the obviously advanced state of the hobbit’s illness and Frodo’s proximity to the edge of the 700-foot precipice. "You must try, by whatever means--begging, lying --anything, to get him to come down. Do so in soft, reassuring tones so as not to alarm or startle him. Do you understand?" Sam nodded again.

Sam stood on wobbly legs as Aragorn held his hands
out to either side of him, not unlike a parent guiding a
toddler's first hesitant steps. However, Sam was oblivious to
this, his eyes fixed only on Frodo. Slowly he moved
towards the wall and began to call softly to Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo? It's your Sam," Sam whispered, moving with arms outstretched towards his master. "Come down, Mr. Frodo. Please, Master, come to your Sam", he implored.

Frodo turned almost imperceptibly towards the voice
of his best friend.

"Sam?" he croaked, "Is that you, Sam?" His eyes lit
upon the small gardener and he broke down into
heartfelt weeping. "Oh Sam, I thought you were
dead...when you weren't there...I thought they had
killed you, dear Sam." Frodo was overcome with
hysterical sobbing as he started to bend down towards
his friend. Unseen by either hobbit, Aragorn had
circled wide around to the left of the pillar and was
now approaching Frodo from behind, hoping to grab
him if Sam should fail to call him down. One of the
guards had circled wide to the right while the other ran
below to the sixth level and looked up at the small
figure perched high above him.

"I know, Mr. Frodo. I'm so sorry I wasn't there with
you. Oh, Mr. Frodo I've been so worried about you.
You've been so sick...having had the deliriums, what with the fever
and all. Won't you please come down and let me take care of you, me
dear?" Sam cried.

"But Sam, we've come so far. I have to destroy the
Ring and complete our quest." Frodo looked at Sam as
if he should know this obvious fact.

"Master, you already destroyed that cursed ring. Don't
ya remember? That's how you lost your finger, Mr.
Frodo. You've done what they asked ya, now you only
have to get yourself well, sir," Sam sobbed, looking up
at Frodo. Seeing the advanced state of his illness, and how truly
pathetic his Master appeared, was taking its toll on Sam. He didn't
think he could bear much more of seeing Frodo shiver
with fever and cold, his pale face contorting
periodically in pain, standing so far out of Sam's
reach.

Frodo looked at Sam, confusion in his eyes. "No,
Sam. The Ring is here in my hand," he indicated the
pendant swinging from his left hand held out over the
wall. "It has claimed me. I am helpless to its call. My
very soul is wrapped around it as a poisonous vine
about a once healthy sapling," he muttered more to
himself than to Sam. "We, the Ring and I, will never be
parted, I fear. I will perish without it, so I must perish
with it in order to finally be at peace,” he sobbed
silently.

"No, Master. You are strong, I will help make you
stronger...if you will but come down from the wall."
Sam was becoming more and more alarmed at this turn
of conversation as his Master prepared to give up his
life for something he had already destroyed.

"It's too late for me, dearest Sam. I have to destroy it
or die trying”, his voice broke as he said this.

Sam decided to take a different tact at this last
statement. He hated Frodo to be separated from
the calming effects of the Lady Arwen's pendant, but
was more concerned now for the mental and physical
well being of his Master and dear friend.

"Very well, Mr. Frodo, destroy that accursed Ring and
let's leave this vile place. Throw it into the fires and be
rid of its poisonous hold over you, once and for all," he
said firmly.

Frodo smiled, and made ready to do just that, turning
with his arm extended out and took a wobbly step
towards the abyss.
Gandalf had slowly come up behind Sam and placed
his hand on the small hobbit's shoulder. Frodo's back
was turned to them. Aragorn crept within a few feet of
Frodo, and slunk down behind one of the numerous stone vases. He was out of site but within reach of the Ring
bearer. The other guard was still off to the right but not
close enough to reach the ring bearer, as yet.

Frodo turned around to give Sam a last hope-filled smile,
instead his eyes flew open, and he gasped, almost
slipping from the wall...

"Gandalf! It is Gandalf!" he exclaimed. A look of joy
turned to skepticism covered his face as he gazed at
Sam and the wizard.

"But...I saw you fall”, tears flowed unchecked down his
grimy face. "I saw you die in Moria”, he sobbed.

"No, Mr. Frodo. He survived and he's here now to
help take care of us. He's goin' ta take us home, Mr.
Frodo," Sam's voice shook with emotion.

Frodo's face slowly hardened in anger and hurt betrayal.
It was then that he spied the orc approaching,
stealthily, off from the right.

"LIAR!" he spat. It is a trick of the Ring," he said
gasping.

Then a strange, vacant look filled his features as if he had
seemingly slipped into a dream. He looked again at
Sam and Gandalf as if seeing them for the first time. A
look of deep sadness filled his eyes. "He is dead.
And if you are with him, dear Sam, that means you are
dead as well," he sobbed.

"No, Master, he is *alive*. *I* am alive, please come
to me," Sam said beseechingly, losing his battle at
remaining calm.

"It is no matter, my Sam. Shortly, very shortly, we
will again walk side by side with Gandalf and all the
others that have been lost; they will be there with us. There
will be no more pain...no Ringspell to fight... no
worries for what is or what is not to be," he whispered
to himself. Weeping and speaking softly to himself he turned slightly, facing the chasm.

His legs, that had held him up for so long, lost their battle
and buckled, causing him to drop Sting onto the stones
below him. The sword fell for what seemed like
forever, finally ringing with a clang as it struck the sixth
level, one hundred feet below. He wavered for only a
second, his eyes rolled up into his head and then he
fell. Around him there was only blackness, a loud
whooshing noise filled his mind until finally he was lost
to the deep and endless void.

TBC