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Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 16

Aragorn was exhausted. "Never have I felt so tired,” he said as he turned to Saleth and Faramir. He rubbed at his eyes until he saw sparks of light. Faramir grinned at the harried face of the King.

Saleth finished outlining the care of Merry and Pippin to the healer who nodded at his instructions. He looked at the King noticing the dark circles under his eyes and lines of fatigue etched into his face.

"Now that we finally have our *guests* under control, perhaps I shall retire for a short nap," Aragorn continued as they turned into the corridor. The corridor was a beehive of activity, healers and orderlies crossing hurriedly to and fro. Most seemed headed in the general direction of the Ringbearer's room. Aragorn, Faramir and Saleth stopped cold as they looked towards Frodo's room. "Then again,
perhaps not," he said dryly. As one they ran down the hall and into the hobbits chambers.

Gandalf was wrapping a lifeless Frodo in warmed blankets while Valin cleared the way to the newly made bed. Sam, upon waking, had come to his senses and stumbled to Frodo's bedside. Now he clutched at his Master's left hand convulsively as he whispered, 'Don't leave me, Mr. Frodo...don't leave me" in a continuing litany while tears streamed down his face.

"What has happened?" cried Saleth, a note of panic clearly in his voice. A stunned Aragorn and Faramir looked at the blue form of a hobbit as he was laid on the bed. His lips and around his eyes were a purplish hue that made his face paler than alabaster, the veins showing clearly beneath the unnaturally white skin. Aragorn could detect no rise and fall of the small chest. He moved to Frodo in two strides, pressed his fingers to the hobbit’s neck and shuddered at the frigid, lifeless flesh. He felt no pulse.

"What have you done?" he thundered at Valin. Gandalf stepped forward, placing himself between the King and the young healer.

"We were attempting to break the fever," Valin replied, his voice wavering.

"Valin, you know how dangerous this can be. Why was I not called? He should never have been subjected to this treatment in his weakened state. You have stopped his heart!" cried Saleth.

"We tried to find you, Master Healer, but we're unable to do so. The perian suffered another convulsion, much worse than before. We decided, in your absence, to try and halt the incessant fever with an ice bath," Valin said haltingly, fingering his robe. Saleth looked shocked, then saddened by this news.

"We need to get his heart re-started while there is still time," yelled Aragorn. He pushed the healers aside and dove towards Frodo's prone figure. Without further warning, he raised his right fist up, and brought it down hard onto Frodo's chest. Frodo made an 'oomph' sound, as the air was forced from his dead lungs.
Aragorn knelt and tilting Frodo's head back, covered the small nose and mouth with his own. He blew into the Ringbearer, watching the hobbit’s chest rise and fall. Again he slammed his fist into the chest of the slack body and again he emptied his lungs into Frodo's, being careful not to overfill the smaller lungs. He continued like this for some time, Aragorn becoming more and more worried that they were too late and that their friend was now lost to them. Gandalf appeared at his side and began to briskly rub Frodo’s legs, trying to restore the circulation. Finally, when all hope seemed lost, a ragged, shallow inhalation was heard, followed quickly by a weak cough. Aragorn touched the neck of his friend and sank to his knees in relief as he felt the thready pulse. Frodo yet lived.

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Frodo became aware of sights, sounds and smells he had never noticed before, seeing with a clarity never dreamed of in his mortal life. He watched healers as they moved rapidly to and fro. He saw Pippin and Merry and shook his head side to side, a small, sad smile touching his lips. He was finally free of the crushing, unrelenting pain that had become so much a part of his existence. He knew he had died, unlike before, this was a feeling that could not be confused with any other experience he had ever known. He watched Aragorn, Faramir, Saleth, Gandalf and dear Sam as they huddled around some sad blue corpse. He
realized suddenly that it was *his* corpse and he moved to watch as Aragorn struck his body repeatedly and then breathed slow measured breaths into the now dead shell of his former self. He felt strangely detached as he watched them try to work their miracle on the lifeless form. He felt sadness for them and their loss, but he was not sad for himself. Finally, the peace and feeling of calm washed over him. Everything about him gleamed and shown with an aura of light---a light he had never seen with his own eyes. It was a soft, warm radiance that emanated from all living things. He no longer inhabited that pitiful, sad body. Poor Sam, he thought. Of all of them, it would be hardest for the small gardener.

Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled by an irresistible yet unseen force back towards the broken husk of a body. A swirling vortex surrounded and dragged at him, pulling him steadily towards it's core. He fought it, crying out his frustration. Returning to that weakened shell, to have to undergo the agony of what his life had become once again, would surely bring him to madness. He struggled, but he was being repelled from the glowing warmth of the new existence just as he was firmly being drawn back by the former. He screamed mentally, 'NOOOO!!!!' but felt, with a jolt, that it was already too late.

Frodo's friends gathered around his bed, weeping and hugging one another in joy, as they witnessed Frodo‘s first gasps of returning life. Sam clutched at his Master's hand and whispered softly in his ear. Aragorn knelt by Frodo, his hand resting lightly on the damp forehead, his eyes closed in a silent prayer for sparing his friend's life. He stood slowly and turned towards Valin. All noise ceased as one by one, each looked at the King's face.

"Explain," he said with barely concealed contempt.

"If I may, Master Valin," Gandalf said stepping between the two. "Frodo awoke while you were gone, my King. We had a brief conversation, of sorts," he smiled wearily. "He seemed almost himself. We gave him his medicine and some broth and he began to slip into a feverish slumber," Gandalf's forehead wrinkled at the memory and a look of deep sadness came over his face as he recalled what happened next. "Then he convulsed violently, seemingly forever," he murmured. "Valin, at a loss as to how to eliminate the fever and, thusly, the convulsions, before they could wreck havoc upon Frodo's mind, asked for my
assistance." He paused, his voice became firmer as he stood to his full height. "I wanted to end Frodo's torment one way or the other," he said with defiance. "I could no longer watch as he suffered. If you wish to lay blame, then it is to fall upon this old wizard who loves this boy more than any other mortal in Middle Earth," he ended. His head was held high and his gray eyes locked with the King's.

"Valin, why the ice bath?" Saleth asked gently.

"Master Healer, I have had great success with this treatment in the past. I realized how dangerous it was, but could think of no better way to finally dispense with the ever present fever. I only wished what was best for the Ringbearer. I beg your forgiveness. I erred and will resign my post immediately," he concluded sadly.

"We shall discuss that later. I believe you did what you thought needed to be done. You have always been an excellent healer, if a bit rash at times. I do not doubt your fierce allegiance to your patients and will not accept your resignation, that is, unless the King orders otherwise. I feel certain we would greatly miss your skills here at the Houses of Healing, were you to leave," Saleth said softly. He looked to the King. "My Liege? What is your wish?" he asked, an unreadable look in his eyes. Aragorn shifted his gaze between Gandalf, Valin and Saleth. Faramir and Sam watched. If the circumstances had not been so dire, they would have laughed at the look of mix of confusion and anger that filled Aragorn's eyes. Aragorn relaxed slightly.

"I will leave the decision of Master Valin's employment within your capable hands," he said to Saleth. He looked at Valin. "I apologize for my earlier outburst, Master Valin. I tend to be very protective of Frodo and if any harm were to come to him well...it would not bode well for the person responsible," he whispered threateningly to Valin. Valin swallowed hard, then smiled slightly at the semi-apology from the King.

"I understand completely, my Lord. I too have grown to enjoy their exuberance and cheery outlook on life," he said softly.

Aragorn turned back to Frodo. He glanced at the bedside table and quickly picked up the blood encrusted reed. Noticing the look of horror on the King's face, Valin moved to explain.

"He began to convulse with the reed in place. We needed to remove it with all due haste and I fear we may have abraded the Ringbearer's throat or stomach. I have sent for some fresh cayenne tincture to stop the bleeding," he finished nervously.

Aragorn looked at Valin with alarm, then respect. "A wise choice," he said softly. "Still, we need to get the medicines and nourishment into him, somehow," he murmured.

"I suggest holding him and spooning it into his mouth, then stroking his throat. I am hopeful that he will regain consciousness and thus, make our dosing him easier," he answered.

"Hmm...you obviously have never tried to get a hobbit to take his medicine, especially *this* hobbit," Aragorn muttered sarcastically. He felt at Frodo's throat once again. He could tell now that it was, indeed, quite swollen. But the pulse was steady and his breathing relaxed and regular.

"Let us try, then we shall let him rest," Aragorn whispered. The Valerian root, athelas and Echinacea teas were brought. The willow bark tea was left to the side, as it would increase the bleeding and irritation. Aragorn moved the slack form of his friend up against his chest. Saleth slowly spooned the liquid into the Ringbearer's mouth. At first, the liquid just ran down the tiny chin and onto Frodo's chest. Aragorn adjusted his position to cradle the head and neck in his right hand, tilting it back slightly, like a parent with a newborn babe. Again the liquid was trickled into the hobbit’s mouth. Aragorn gently stroked the thin neck until the muscles involuntarily moved, causing Frodo to swallow.

A small groan issued forth. He struggled weakly against Aragorn's chest, but his strength soon failed and he lay still. Aragorn smiled up at Saleth, who returned the smile.

"He is nearly conscious," said Saleth.

"He is waging a war we can not fight for him. I only hope the battle will result in our favor," murmured Aragorn. Saleth eyed the King quizzically. He continued slowly spooning the liquid into Frodo's mouth with Aragorn gently tickling the throat to cause the swallow. It was a long, tedious process but eventually all of the medicine and broth were given and Frodo was eased back onto the pillows. Restraints were reattached to his arms and feet, but not his head, in case he had another convulsion.

"Let him rest. Perhaps, with the light of day, we will see improvement," Aragorn said huskily.

"I'll stay with 'em," said Sam.

"Sam, that is an excellent idea. If you like, you could sleep here next to Frodo. Your closeness will undoubtedly, help him heal faster," Aragorn said smiling. Sam beamed in delight, and crawled up to nestle next to his Master. As the soothing voices of his friends droned on around him, Sam's eyes slowly slipped closed. In his right hand he still held his Master's left, his right arm resting lightly on Frodo's chest. He fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

"I believe I shall stay as well," said Aragorn, dragging a soft chair over to Frodo's right bedside.

"My Liege, I feel it would be best if you were to find a bed and recover your strength. Not even the King can be expected to be all things to all peoples," Saleth said, knowing he was breaching a social barrier by speaking so, but he was more concerned with the King's health than for his own station in life. Gandalf and Faramir smiled as Aragorn grimaced and looked up at Saleth.

"I agree with you, Saleth. But on this, I override your council. I am quite comfortable here, and here I shall stay," he said to the healer, a look of warning in his eyes.

"Very well, my Lord. I will bring you some tea and perhaps something to eat," Saleth acquiesced. Bowing, he left the room.

Gandalf turned to Faramir. "I do hope he doesn't try to drug our King or he will feel the wrath of Anduril," he said jokingly.

"I would hope that Saleth would never be that presumptive,” said Aragorn. And although it had been said in jest, Gandalf's remark planted a tiny seed of doubt in Aragorn's mind and his expression mirrored this.

Faramir laughed. "Oh, now you have done it, Mithrandir," he said.

Gandalf turned and smiled at Aragorn. "Fear not, my King. I sense no ulterior motives in the fine healer.“ The wizard turned towards the Steward. “Now, Faramir, since things seem to be under control, at least for the moment, what say you to a drop of soothing tea, a bite of something nourishing followed by a long nap?" he asked, with a wink.

"Why Mithrandir, I do believe your *are* a healer after all," Faramir quipped. He allowed himself to be helped up and using Gandalf's shoulder and one of his crutches, moved out of the room and down the hall to his own chambers. Valin decided to follow at a discrete distance and, thereby excuse himself from the room and avoid any unnecessary converse with the King.

Aragorn shifted his gaze from his departing friends to the glowing countenance of his friend, sunk deep into the overfilled bed. "By the Valar, Frodo, you have accumulated some strange yet loyal friends," he remarked. He smoothed back the curls on the warm forehead. "Perhaps Valin *has* saved you yet, my friend. I do believe you feel cooler. We will have to wait and see, I suppose. But I shall watch over you this night. You see, my small friend, you are too dear to too many to depart this life just yet. You must strive to come back to us, Frodo." He bent and planted a kiss on the Ringbearer's smooth forehead. He then sat in the soft chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He let his head rest against the wall, his left arm lay protectively on Frodo's right, and slowly, oh so slowly, his eyes slipped closed.

It was in that position that Saleth found the three friends when he returned with the tray. He sighed, and taking a warm blanket from the hearth, draped it about the King. He knelt in front of Aragorn and touched his heart and then his head in a salute of supplication and respect. He rose.

"Sleep well, my King," he said softly before quitting the room.

TBC