REPOST

Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 20

Frodo was drawn from the wondrous place of warm contentedness by the
stabbing, throbbing pain in his right hand, his throat and stomach
ached with fresh agony as well. He curled in on himself, hoping to
ease and wish it away. For some reason, he felt restless and tried to
turn onto his back. Sam was sleeping curled up against him, soft
snores issuing from his chapped lips. He could not remember feeling
this anxious and wretched for some time. Always he had slept the deep
and dreamless sleep of the blessed, without pain and awoke feeling
relaxed and amiable. Now he felt none of these things. He tossed and
twisted in anxiety and need, his very skin seemed to itch in desire
for something he could not give. Finally he opened his eyes and
looked querulously around the room, feeling ready to pounce and pummel
the first thing he saw. His eyes alighted on Aragorn, who sat beside
him watching him closely. Frodo's eyes met Aragorn's with a mixed
look of anger and confusion.

"Frodo, how fair you, my friend?" he said with concern, offering his
hand for Frodo to squeeze a reply. Frodo took Aragorn's index finger
and squeezed hard. Aragorn recognized immediately what he had hoped
he would not see in the small patient. He sighed. "It appears, my
dear friend, you have developed an addiction to the pain killer," he
said softly.

Frodo did not care. He had heard what Aragorn had said, but all he
felt was an empty hollow inside of him. It mattered little if this
emptiness was brought on by pain, despair or desire for the drink, he
wanted relief. He felt like his insides were being ripped apart. His
breathes came rapidly and his face broke out in a sheen of
perspiration as his eyes roved about the room desperately looking for
succor. His gaze then moved back to Aragorn, "Medicine," he whispered.

"No talking, Frodo. You will have to be strong and wait until your
next dose, I'm afraid. I realize I am asking a great deal of you, but
you must trust me on this, little one," said Aragorn sadly.

Frodo's eyes widened with a look of desperation "Hurts. Give it to me,
PLEASE," he implored huskily. His voice broke and he began coughing.

"I know it hurts , Frodo, but I can not dose you again for another
half hour. I am sorry. Truly. How would you like some broth
instead?" Aragorn said, completely ignoring the fact Frodo had spoken
again.

"Medicine," Frodo cried louder this time. Tears coursed down his face.
Aragorn looked sadly at his friend, feeling the frustration at not being
able to do more for Frodo. He brushed back the tangled locks. Frodo's face was flushed and his eyes glazed over. He rolled over, Sam moving to allow him to lie on his back. He started to twist back and forth moving his head from left to right on his pillow, his whole body trembling as the muscles spasomed..

"What's wrong with him, Mr. Strider?" asked Sam with concern.

"He is experiencing a form of withdrawal. We've been forced to begin
weaning him from his pain medicine, as he has become addicted to its
effects," said Aragorn sadly as they watched the Ringbearer expend all
of his energy writhing before them.

"Help me, Sam...Please, Hurts," husked Frodo. Frodo knew that Sam
would intervene. Sam was there for him, always had been, and now he
relied on this fact in order to obtain the calming drink.

"You can't just let him suffer. There must be something you can do!"
demanded Sam looking on the wretched form of his Master and then back
to Aragorn.

"There is little we can do, Sam." said Aragorn, his eyes welling with
tears. "He needs distraction, which we will offer once we get him past
this first bout . I care for him too, Sam. We can ease his suffering
by bathing him and giving him another bolus with more catnip and
Valerian root. The Valerian root is addictive, but not so much as the
poppy extract," murmured Aragorn. "Sam, would you fetch Saleth for me,
please?" he asked.

"Of course, Mr. Strider," he climbed from the bed and scurried towards
the door. He turned back to Strider, "I know you only mean the best
for me Master, Mr. Strider, I just hate so to see him in such pain,"
then he turned and ran out.

"I am sorry Frodo, to put you through this." said Aragorn. Frodo gave
Aragorn a look of anger and disgust and then a small wail escaped his
lips as his stomach clenched. His face turned very pale. Aragorn
touched his hand to Frodo's forehead, drawing back from the hot yet
clammy feel of the skin. Frodo squeezed Aragorn's finger suddenly
with what the King recognized as a sense of urgency. He quickly
rolled Frodo to his side, grabbing a nearby basin, into which Frodo
retched repeatedly. Finally, the nausea passed, he rolled Frodo to
his back and placed a cool cloth on his forehead. He wiped his mouth
and gave Frodo a small sip of water to rinse with. Then he examined
the basin's contents. It mostly contained bile and broth, but was
tinged with a bright pink mucous indicating fresh blood. He moved to
the sideboard and prepared the bolus ingredients. Valerian root to
calm him, catnip- a light pain killer, comfrey and myrrh for the
bleeding. He filled the bolus and went to Frodo's side. "This will
calm you until we can give you your next dose of the drink, Frodo.”
Frodo was so miserable by now, he did not care what Aragorn did. His
guts twisted and his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. He
opened his eyes and looked at Aragorn, an imploring look filled his
eyes. He cried out and curled into a ball on his side as wave after
wave of stabbing pain assailed him.

Saleth entered. "So, it has begun, I see," he said grimly.

"Yes, Master Healer, help me with the insertion of the bolus and then
have orderlies draw him a warm bath, please," said Aragorn. The
orderlies were called and soon steaming hot water was mixing with cool
in the small copper tub. The muscles in Frodo's legs began to
contract painfully, and he cried out as new flares of pain gripped his
already ravaged body. Saleth began massaging the legs, working out
the cramps and knots, as Aragorn took some fresh athelas and bent
over the steaming tub. He murmured to himself a blessing to Eru as he
cast the leaves upon the water. The room filled immediately with the
fresh, relaxing fragrance of glades and earth freshly turned. All
within the room inhaled the soothing aroma, even Frodo appeared to
calm a bit. Aragorn then gently lifted Frodo and placed him slowly
into the bath. At first Frodo tensed as the warm water enveloped
him, but then his eyes closed and he felt utter peace wash over his
mind and body as the warm water and fragrant herb combined to soothe and
ease the tension from him. Aragorn bathed him slowly, washing his
sweat soaked hair and body in light gentle strokes. Frodo leaned into
the feeling of being cared for, each touch a sweet caress on his
tortured frame. A great sigh escaped his lips as he allowed his mind
to float un-tethered. Adrift in this semi-conscious state, his
muscles slowly un-tensed and the anxiety abated leaving him utterly
spent. Orderlies came and changed the bedding. Broth and medicines
were brought and placed on the small table by the bed. After
sometime, as the water became cool, Aragorn lifted Frodo out and
wrapped him in toweling, gently drying the small body and head. He
placed him back in his cocoon, covering him in soft linens and quilts.
Sam stood by watching, transfixed by the effects a simple bath could
have on his master. He moved to the bedside and took Frodo's hand in his.

"First, some broth for nourishment Frodo, for you have had a
difficult morning and need to remain strong for what is yet to come,"
said Aragorn softly. Sam moved up on the bed and gently placed Frodo
against his chest. Frodo seemed completely oblivious as to what was
expected of him, only staring, eyes half lidded, off into space.
The broth was offered and he turned away, not liking the smell or
wanting the taste of the mixture in his mouth.

"Now Mr. Frodo, eat just a little and then perhaps you'll feel a mite
better," cajoled Sam. Frodo tilted his head up at Sam with a look of
despair that fairly wrenched the gardener's heart to breaking.
"Please, Mr. Frodo. Please, just a few sips, for your Sam," he
pleaded. Frodo's expression changed to one of futility and he allowed
Aragorn to slowly spoon the mixture into his mouth. He
swallowed automatically, his throat clinching in pain each time,
making him grimace. Aragorn and Saleth noted this and Saleth went to
retrieve the comfrey tea. After a few swallows of the broth the tea
was offered. It was a mixture of comfrey, a small amount of Valerian
root, Hypercom, for the depression that still assailed the hobbit,
and catnip. Frodo dutifully drank the tea and found the throbbing
gradually decreased in his throat and even in his hand. Aragorn
nodded to Saleth and a small cup of the cream mixture was then
retrieved from the medicine room, along with a small amber bottle.
These were placed on the bedside table. Frodo watched intently as his
beloved sweet milk was then mixed with a very small amount of the
liquid in the amber bottle.

"We shall slowly wean you from the poppy extract, Frodo. But we will
try to do it so as not to cause you undo discomfort. We know you are
in a lot of pain, my friend, but I think we need to switch you to a
combination of other, milder painkillers, so that you will not be so
dependent on this drug," whispered Aragorn. Frodo's eyes reflected
fear at the prospect of losing the one thing that seemed to bring him
true relief. The absolute escape and surcease the mixture offered him
could not be found in any substitute, to his mind, and his need...his
very craving of the wondrous antidote now completely ruled him. He
watched as Aragorn mixed and stirred this new dosage. His mind, now
fully awake, his body tensed and shook as he saw the cup come closer
to him and knew, that soon, he could return to the oblivion and warmth
of that one place the drug drew him to. He reached out, whimpering as
Aragorn brought the cup to him, all his energy bent on attaining the
object of his desire and the ecstasy that it brought. He cared little
if it was drug induced or a naturally occurring release. All he wanted
was the escape from this world, the free floating sensation that would
encompass his mind, driving out pain, guilt, worry, replacing it with
a numbness where there was no room for thought of any kind. Aragorn
stopped, cup in hand, as he watched with pity, the face of his friend.
Frodo's countenance and body poised like a tense thread in
anticipation and desire, and he was saddened by what he saw.

"Aragorn...I must have it. Please Aragorn, bring me the cup. Please,"
he wailed, his voice rising higher and higher until he began to choke
and sob.

"Shush, Frodo. It is all right. I will not withhold it from you, my
friend. Calm yourself and do not speak," whispered Aragorn. Frodo
visibly forced himself to breathe more deeply and slowly until a
semblance of calm returned to his features. Aragorn placed the vessel
to his mouth, Frodo immediately grabbed at the King's wrist tightly so
that he could not pull away, and gulped greedily at the contents. But
when Aragorn threatened to remove the drink, Frodo slowed the gulping
to small swallows. Aragorn's eyes never left his. Finally the
mixture was gone, much to Frodo's disappointment and the cup placed
next to the amber bottle on his bedside table.

"More, please, Aragorn?" he rasped.

"No, my friend. Find peace in the fact that I have given you any this
hour. You shall need less of it as the days go on as we reduce the
dosage," he whispered. Frodo turned his face away, tears of loss and
grief fell from his eyes. Sam extracted himself from behind his master and moved to lie beside Frodo, placing Frodo's head on his shoulder.

"It's all right, Mr. Frodo. There are other ways to relieve your pain
and we shall use those. You don't need no drug to enjoy the greatness
of Middle Earth, we'll see to that, mind you," he said. Frodo gave
his friend a weak smile. Lucky Sam, he thought, you will never
understand the pull of things that are beyond your control. First, it
was the Ring and now the medicine. Oh, that I could be free of the
need, the ache, the loss of these precious things, as you are. But I
am weak, not strong like you, Sam. I have nothing but these things to
keep me alive. I have no Rosie or even the Shire any longer, only
those things I can not have make me want to continue. A small sob
escaped him and he wept.

Sam wiped the tears away and murmured to him over and over 'I will
help you, Mr. Frodo. I will carry you when you feel you cannot go on,
for I love thee dearly, my Master.'

Frodo listened and thought how undeserving he was to have such a
friend as Samwise Gamgee. The last thing he saw as he slipped into
the soundless, blissful contentment of the awaiting abyss, was Sam's
gentle, loving smile as he stroked Frodo's curls.

TBC