REPOST

Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 21

When Frodo awoke, not more than a half hour later, he was alone and was
once again, being assaulted by the dull throb of his wounds, and the
craving for the blessed relief the elixir brought. There was a soft
knock at the door and a round, red faced woman entered.
She wore the garments of an apprenticing healer and slowly approached
where he lay.

"I'm sorry if I woke you, Master Periannth, but thought perhaps you
would like some cool water to drink," she spoke quietly.

"You have not awoken me, dear lady. I am rather thirsty, would you
mind pouring me a cup?" Frodo asked huskily.

"Not at all, kind sir," she replied and from a large earthenware
pitcher, poured the water into a smaller earthen cup. Then she
lifted his head gently and brought the cup to his lips. He drank
greedily, the water cool and sweet to his parched mouth.

"More, please," he whispered. Again she filled the cup and he drank
perhaps half before feeling sated. She refilled the cup and
placed it within reach on the bedside table beside the pitcher, bowed
slightly and withdrew, closing the door behind her.
Frodo’s eyes rested on the pitcher and the dewy beads that covered it.
A shaft of light that had found entrance to his room
through the window curtains, alighted on a small bottle sitting next
to the pitcher. The bottle glowed with brilliant hues of yellow
and gold as if somehow lit from within. It was no larger than Frodo's
small fist and he reached out for it with a trembling hand.
He was quite weak and noticed that this small effort caused him to
break into a sudden drenching sweat, his whole body
trembling with exertion. Finally, he attained his goal and looked
carefully at the small amber container. It was perhaps half full
and a small paper on the side stated that it was 'Elixir of Poppy.'
Frodo closed his eyes, shuddering, as he grasped the slim
flask to his chest. This was the wonderful drug that Aragorn had
spoken of, that had ensnared him so easily with the promise
of sweet oblivion. He knew he was being weaned and, for the barest
moment, hesitated about what to do with this liquid
enchantress. He did not want to ever be held in the clutches of
obsession and need, as he had with the Ring. But this was
different, wasn't it?, his mind rationalized. This cured a pain that
ensnared only himself, and unlike the Ring, Middle Earth would
not fall if he partook of such a little thing. Then it would be gone,
his weaning time possibly extended, but the pain he now felt
would diminish and he could rest again. He would be stronger next
time, he argued. He would eat and rest and be physically
able to resist the call of the drug. So he decided, just this last
time, he would give in and no one would be the wiser. He smiled
gently to himself, feeling justified that this wasn't such a terrible
thing after all. Once he quelled the need and the pain, he would
be able to plan better. He would be prepared for the next time the
dark mistress would seduce him. He pulled the cork from
the bottle with his teeth and upended the contents into the earthen
pitcher. Then he grasped the small cup and poured water
back into the small bottle to the point where it had been before. He
spilled a great deal of water down his nightshirt and onto
the bed linens, but hardly noticed so absorbed was he in his task. He
re-corked the bottle, wiping it free of the dribbles of water
and returned it to its place. It winked at him, struck by the shaft
of sunlight, as if to mock him for his weakness and deceit. He
hesitated, now not sure of himself and what he had done. How had it
come to this, he thought. Frodo Baggins, honorable
gentlehobbit of the shire, pilfering medicine like he used to pinch
pipe weed from his Uncle Sara at Brandyhall. Guilt overcame
him as he lie back, his clothing plastered to his skin with sweat. He
groaned. His stomach suddenly clenched and he cried out
in surprise at the force of the pain. He curled in on himself trying
to will it away, but the agony only increased until he was totally
spent, his breathes coming in ragged pants and his mouth watering with
the impending nausea. He leaned over the bed and
vomited into the chamber pot, but then realized, too late, that he had
also soiled his sheets.
The indignity and humiliation of it all suddenly overwhelmed him and
he began to weep. He lay there covered in his own filth,
sobbing. It was then that he realized he didn't care anymore whether
the elixir was good or bad, as long as it allowed him some
form of escape from this hell he was now experiencing.

Sam suddenly entered and seeing his Master lying with his head off the
edge of the bed, weeping and the offal that had puddled
around his spent frame, rushed to help him. "Me poor Master, Let me
help you, me dear," he whispered softly.

"No..go away," Frodo said firmly. Sam looked taken back by this but
still reached out to right his master. "Please Sam...go
away. I do not want you to see me this way," Frodo said forcefully.
Sam ran from the room, feeling frightened and worried.
Never had his master spoken to him like this before and he felt
panicked by the complete distress and despair he had heard in
Frodo's voice.

He ran out into the corridor and right into Aragorn's stomach as he
was turning the corner to come into the room. Aragorn, not
expecting the assault, let out a large 'oomph'. Rubbing his stomach,
he bent down grasping Sam by the shoulders. "Samwise,
what makes you hurry so?" he asked.

"Frodo's dreadful sick, Mr. Strider, and won't let me tend him." Sam
began to cry. "He told me to leave...that...that he didn't
want me there," he blubbered.

Without a word, Aragorn pushed open the door and took in the sight of
the helpless hobbit that lay on the bed. He turned to
Sam and told him to fetch Saleth for clean linens and hot bath water.
Sam scurried out. He then went to Frodo and started to
lift him back onto his pillows.

"Go away, NOW. At least allow me the dignity of trying to make myself
more presentable," Frodo yelled.

"Frodo, stop it!" Aragorn shook him slightly. "You are going to
allow us to care for you without protest or complaint, and you
will be SILENT!" Aragorn's voice boomed. Frodo cringed at the rebuff,
his face going pale. Aragorn felt sudden shame at
raising his voice, especially since Frodo was still recovering from
mental anguish and needed, more than anything, peace and
quiet. He peered at the white countenance of his friend and his face
softened.

"Mellon, you are ill. We do not care if you have soiled your bedding
or been nauseous because we love you and know that
these accidents sometimes happen to the very sick. You are not the
first to experience the humiliation of such acts that your
body does without your bidding."

Frodo looked up at Aragorn with a small flicker of surprise in his
eyes. Aragorn smiled. "Yes, even former Ranger's and newly
crowned King's have been in situations not unlike your own." Frodo
smiled. He couldn't help it, picturing Aragorn sick and
weak as a bairn and having to be cleaned up after an 'accident'. The
image was so unlike all that Frodo had ever thought of the
King that he began to chuckle, which turned quickly into a breathless
laugh.

"That's enough out of you, Ringbearer," said the blushing Ranger.
"Now let's get you cleaned up, what say you?" Frodo, still
chuckling, nodded.

Saleth had come in and witnessed the King speaking with the laughing
hobbit and smiled in spite of himself. He had never heard
Frodo laugh and found that he greatly enjoyed the musical sound that
now emanated from his patient. He filled the copper tub
with warm, fragrant water, while Aragorn wiped most of the excrement
from Frodo's backside and legs. Frodo kept
apologizing, his face a deep red by the time the King lowered him
gently into the bath. To Frodo it felt like heaven as he
allowed the aroma of the lavender oil and the hot water to wash away
the filth, the scent renewing his soul. They washed him
thoroughly then lifted him out and placed him on the freshly changed
linens. Aragorn examined the soiled linens and then the
chamber pot.

"Must you?" husked Frodo. "It is so degrading."

Aragorn turned and looked at Frodo. "I must, Frodo. I am checking
for blood," he said.

"And?"

"There is very little, I am happy to say," replied Aragorn with a
small smile. "Frodo, do you feel up to an excursion?"

Frodo's eyebrows rose and he smiled wanly. "Of course, I am tired,
indeed of being in this bed, no matter how comfortable it
is," he whispered.

"Very well. Master's Took and Brandybuck have requested the pleasure
of your company for the noon meal," said Aragorn,
grinning. "However, there are a few rules you will need to adhere
to." Frodo nodded, anxious to escape his small cage and
visit with his cousins. "No long conversations. Try to listen and
use your face and hands to express yourself. We need to limit
talking as much as possible." Frodo nodded. "If it becomes too much
for you, the noise and chattering and all the sensations,
you must tell me and we will return to this room's peace and quiet."
Frodo again, nodded. Aragorn bent to lift Frodo from the
bed, but Frodo protested.

"I want to try to walk on my own," he whispered.

Aragorn almost laughed, the idea was so ridiculous. "Frodo, that
would be very foolish, even if it were possible. You are far
too weak," Aragorn said slowly.

"I wish to try," Frodo said firmly.

"Very well, " Aragorn helped Frodo to sit up. The room spun in a
sickening swirl. Frodo took a deep breath and swallowed
hard, opening his eyes again slowly. This time the vertigo lessened
and he dropped his legs over the edge of the bed. Aragorn
knelt facing him, arms extended to either side. Frodo was ashen with
the effort of simply sitting up. Aragorn could see a slick
sheen of perspiration on his pale face and knew this would be a short
battle for the hobbit. As Frodo placed his feet slowly
onto the floor and stood, the room again pitched, his knees buckled
and he fell towards the bedside table. Reaching out to stop
his fall, he knocked the amber bottle to the floor, where it shattered
into dozens of small golden splinters. Aragorn caught him
as he fell and lay him back onto his pillows.

"As I said, a foolish endeavor," he said grimly.

"Aragorn, I am sorry. I broke the bottle," Frodo gasped.

"It is naught to worry over, there are others, but remain still while
the pieces are swept up so you won't cut your feet," he smiled.
Aragorn called for an orderly who quickly swept up the fragments and
left the room. "Shall we try again, or are you fatigued?"
asked the King.

"I am fine, perhaps some water," ventured Frodo. Aragorn gently
lifted his shoulders and pressed the cup to his lips, which he
drank of thirstily.

"More?"

"Yes, please."

Aragorn poured a fresh cup from the earthen pitcher and Frodo watched,
eyes filled with manic desire, as he brought the cup to
his lips. He drank slowly and then sighed.

"Better?" Aragorn grinned.

"Yes, much. Shall we go?" Frodo smiled. Aragorn returned the cup to
the table and swept Frodo up, cradling him in the curve
of his left arm. After retrieving a blanket, they turned and left the
room.

Sam hurried towards, them as they entered the corridor. "Mr. Frodo,
Mr. Frodo, are you all right?" he called breathlessly.

"Yes, Sam. I am fine." He grasped Sam's up-stretched hand. "Forgive
me for my harsh words earlier, my dear friend. I
was...not myself," Frodo whispered.

"There's nothin' to forgive, Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered. "I think I
understand how you were feelin', I jes' hope you're feelin' a
mite better, is all."

"Yes Sam, I am feeling a little better. Join me for a visit with
Merry and Pippin, all right?" he croaked.

"I'd love to, Mr. Frodo," and Sam fell into step with Aragorn as they
moved along the hallway.

"No more talking, Frodo," Aragorn said without even looking down at
the small person.
At last they came to Pippin and Merry's room and as they entered, were
greeted with joyous cries of happiness. A look from
Aragorn caused the cousins' to quiet considerably. He crossed the
room and gently placed Frodo between Pippin and Merry
on the large bed. Merry busied himself fluffing pillows and placing
them behind his elder cousin in an attempt to make him as
comfortable as possible. Once Frodo was situated he became the
recipient of numerous hugs and whispered endearments from
his kin. Pippin's eyes glowed with unshed tears as he lightly
caressed his cousin's pale face.

"Pippin, whatever have you done to yourself?" whispered Frodo
groggily. Aragorn frowned slightly noting the sudden drowsiness
that seemed to overcome the Ring bearer.

Pippin launched into his tale of the troll and being crushed and then
re-breaking his leg later. He enthusiastically told about the
broken wrist and ribs, flailing his arms, his voice rising in
excitement as he told of his and Merry's adventures. Merry nodded,
his eyes alight, filling in forgotten details, augmenting the story.

At first, Frodo listened in rapt attention his mouth hanging open in
stunned shock at all that had befallen his rowdy kin.
Gradually, his eyelids began to droop, the blue depths taking on a
glazed distant look. Aragorn frowned with concern, and
holding up a hand silencing the two errant adventurers.

"Perhaps we should dine, gentlemen," he said softly. They looked from
Aragorn to Frodo, and noticing the vacant look on the
hobbit's face, agreed wholeheartedly.

Valin entered, along with two other orderlies, bearing trays for the
feast. The bed was set as a makeshift table and the entrees
arranged upon it. Aragorn's eyebrows shot up when he saw the quantity
of food laid out. He thought to himself, I should be
used to this but it still amazes me how much a hobbit can devour.
Seasoned meats, glazed fruits, breads sweat with honey,
vegetables dripping in butter, stewed cabbages, creamed soups and
small meat pies adorned the makeshift table. A fine red
wine was the crowning touch. The three hobbits began to quickly help
themselves, commenting on each dish as it was
sampled. Frodo merely stared at the feast, a sick look on his face,
as the aromas assailed him. A small bowl of creamed
mushroom soup was brought for Frodo. Sam moved to assist his master,
but Aragorn motioned for Sam to keep his place and
partake of the feast, while he fed Frodo. He gathered Frodo to him
and began to slowly spoon soup into the small mouth.

"How does that taste, Frodo?" Aragorn asked, carefully gauging the
Ringbearer's response.

"Ssss..good," mumbled Frodo. Aragorn frowned, but continued to feed
the hobbit until the soup simply dribbled out of the
hobbit's mouth as he stopped swallowing. Again Aragorn looked with
concern at his small friend.
"Perhaps, we should depart. Frodo appears fatigued," said Aragorn.
The other three hobbits looked up from the meal,
amongst murmurs of disappointment. Each hugged Frodo to them
whispering soothing endearments, Frodo smiled wanly at
each in turn.

"I love you all so much," he slurred.

"Mr. Strider, perhaps I should come with you and help get me Master
settled," Sam said as he made to climb from the large
bed.

"No Sam, stay with Master's Took and Brandybuck for now. You can come
visit Frodo after your meal," said Aragorn. Sam
looked torn between his duty to his Master and remaining with the
other hobbits.

"Truly Sam. I think I feel like a bit of a nap now anyway," rasped
Frodo. This seemed to convince the loyal gardener and he
smiled at his Master.

"Very well, Mr. Frodo. But I'll not be far, if’en you need me."

Aragorn rose and carried Frodo from the room, walking slowly down the
hallway until they were once again in the Ringbearer's
chambers. He settled Frodo gently into the little nest, giving a
troubled look at the small person. Saleth entered with the teas
and medicines and moved to the bedside table.

"How fairs he, my Lord?"

"I am uncertain. He seems inordinately fatigued and lethargic," he
said with concern.

"He has had a very active day, my Lord. The weaning alone is very
exhausting. The visit to his cousins' might have been too
much for him, causing this lethargy," commented Saleth.

"Perhaps, but somehow I feel that there is more to this than that,"
Aragorn said skeptically. He smoothed Frodo's curls back
from the pale forehead.

"He is past due for his medicines. We should try to keep him on
schedule to avoid any unpleasant withdrawal symptoms,"
Saleth commented.

"That is another thing that mystifies me. Frodo has not become
agitated and demanding as is usual prior to his next dosing.
Does that not seem odd, Saleth?" questioned the King. The healer's
brows knit together.

"It is unusual, but perhaps simple exhaustion has quelled those
desires for the moment," Saleth said slowly, but he too began to
look pensive.

"Let us dose him and then keep a close eye on him, does that sound
satisfactory?" asked Aragorn.

"Yes, my Liege." Saleth settled himself next to Frodo, Aragorn lifted
the boneless form into a semi-upright position. Frodo's
eyes never opened, in fact no reaction was forthcoming. Aragorn felt
for a pulse and found a slow, steady beat under his
fingertips. Frodo's breaths came in shallow but steady procession.
He nodded to Saleth.

"He seems stable, although I would feel better if his life signs were
a bit stronger," murmured the King.

"Shall I proceed, my Lord?"

"Yes, we shall monitor him closely though. The medicine will probably
lose its hold on him within the hour, then we shall see
what follows," said Aragorn, worriedly.
Saleth slowly spooned the tea made of hypericum, comfrey and a small
dose of the poppy extract, into the side of Frodo's
mouth. Reflexively, it was swallowed until all of it was gone.
Aragorn then lay Frodo back onto the pillows and covered him
with the quilts.

"I believe I shall stay here and keep watch over him," said Aragorn.

"This truly bothers you, does it not my Lord?"

"Yes, it seems somehow unnatural, this state his is in. I am
concerned," whispered the King.

"Perhaps you should sleep next to him. The bed is more than large
enough to accommodate both of you," suggested Saleth.
Aragorn looked at Saleth with surprise. Saleth smiled. "It has come
to my attention that you, my King, have rested far too little
since this situation began. And sitting in a chair perched
precariously against the wall is not rest, no matter what you would say," he added when Aragorn made to object. "It will do you both good to
nap a bit. This way you can be comfortable and close at
hand to monitor Frodo's life signs," he finished.

Aragorn smiled, "Very well, Master Healer. I see you have plotted
this out well." Saleth's eyes opened wide at the idea of
plotting against the King. Aragorn held up his hand, "I realize you
have my best interests at heart, my friend, and consider your
concern for my well-being an act of friendship. I will rest next to
Frodo. After all, he will probably awaken within the hour
anyway, needing more medicine," said Aragorn.

"Undoubtedly, my Lord." Aragorn removed his boots and made himself
comfortable next to Frodo, as Saleth exited the
room. He placed his hand on the small wrist to better monitor Frodo's
pulse and then, slowly, his eyes slipped shut. Exhaustion
taking him totally. The Ringbearer slept deeply, dreamlessly,
cocooned within the embrace of the seductive drug, that promised
endless peace and tranquility, a small satisfied smile upon his lips.

TBC