Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Phantasm  by lovethosehobbits

Disclaimer: All characters and places depicted are the sole property of the JRR Tolkien Estate; my only claim to fame is this small piece of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

Medical Disclaimer: While extensive research has been done, none of the cures or procedures depicted in this story should be used without first consulting a medical professional. Also there may be graphic medical details and wee hobbit behinds in this chapter, so if that makes you squeamish, you'd better pass.

Sorry it has taken so very long to update. Christmas, art shows and RL in general have been frantic. I will endeavor to do better in the future. As another little aside, this chapter deals more with Merry, Pippin and Sam than with our Frodo. I wanted to develop some interpersonal relationships a bit more and how everyone is dealing with Frodo and his aberrant behavior. But not to worry, I plan on the next chapter almost completely being devoted to Frodo. Enjoy.

An AU tale about Frodo and the Ring of Power...

Chapter 8

<$1p>"Yet Hope Remains While the Company is True"

His body performed in a perfunctory manner as his mind closed itself off completely to all sensory stimuli trying to, somehow, protect itself by building a wall between itself and the screaming agony that was the reality of the shell that bore it. Frodo had long since ceased to "be" in that physical world as he pushed his left arm and hand and his right leg to remove himself from his friends and kin. His eyes stared off, unseeing, as the limbs did their work. Shuffle...scrape...shuffle...scrape...the noises continued long after he had cleared the portal to his new home.

He barked his spine against a rough step down towards the pool that had earlier been used to bathe him, causing a small whimper to escape his lips. Thrown off balance, he slipped off of the landing and rolled towards the pool. Sparks of light peppered his vision as he collapsed onto his stomach, pinning his broken arm beneath him. Unmindful of the newly awakened pain and feeling only a blinding thirst, Frodo eagerly lapped at the pool. The faint taste of soap could still be detected but had been diluted by the steadily dripping stalactite, none of which Frodo would have noticed, so desperate was his thirst. His mind strove to create a safe haven for him to reside in while his body experienced the continued onslaught of unimaginable pain and weakness. But, at long last, it could no longer maintain the facade and chose the only way it knew of to protect its person; it shut down. A heavy gray fog filled his vision and the cave slowly dissolved into black inkiness as he collapsed besides the pool. Finally free of the ravages of body and mind, he succumbed, his cheek lying on the wet sand as his hair fanned out over the lazily moving water.

************************************************************************

The cave was eerily quiet after the drama of a few moments before except for the sound of soft sobbing coming from Merry and Pippin. Sam wrested himself angrily from Aragorn and Gandalf who released him in surprise.

"Well, arn't you goin' after him? He can't take care o' himself all alone. He's sick. He needs you," he shouted at Aragorn.

"Sam, things would be worse if I bodily forced Frodo to come out. If I make him eat and take his medicines, he will feel victimized and it would only strengthen his belief that we were trying to poison him." Aragorn sighed and grimaced at the thought of the sick hobbit a mere three feet away but, maddeningly, out of his care and what repercussions would result if Frodo did not soon come to his senses. "We will give him some time, not too much, but enough to where he can come to a decision," he added.

"Time? Mr. Frodo's a fine one for overthinkin' every little thing. I love him dearly, but this is not somethin' that needs thinkin' on. He needs to let his feelin's tell him what’s what, not broodin' all alone, sick and hurt. If'n you won't do nothin' for 'em, then I will. I'll not let him die jes' because o' some dream," Sam said heatedly.

Aragorn's eyebrows shot up. "So, you overheard our discussion of his dream. You play possum most convincingly, Master Gamgee." Sam blushed furiously and looked down. "But you do have one good point, Sam. Frodo trusts you, Merry and Pippin more than any others in our group. If anyone can get him to listen, it will be you three," Aragorn said earnestly.

"I'll jes' get some things then..." Sam made to move to his pack. Aragorn reached out and took the gardener's arm.

"No Sam. Not yet. I promised Frodo I'd let him have some time to think alone, when that's done, you can go to him."

Sam wheeled on the ranger and pulled his arm free. "A lot o' good it'll do. He'll probably be dead by then," he spat furiously but his voice cracked as he said this. He tried to compose himself but his chest shuddered in a sob as he turned and stomped away carrying his overburdened pack with him.

Aragorn rose to follow but Gandalf stayed him. "Frodo is not the only one who needs time, Aragorn. Let Sam be for a while. Tell me more of this dream of Frodo's," the wizard said sadly. Aragorn recounted the dream and Frodo's fears and, ultimately, the paranoia that had caused the hobbit's pain filled departure. Gandalf listened intently, slowly puffing on his pipe as he took in all of the details. After Aragorn had finished, he rose slowly, feeling a great fatigue wash over him. "Something is influencing our friend, Aragorn. I have my suspicions, but do not wish to discuss it until I can speak further with Frodo," he said huskily.

"Who knows when that will be, my friend? He seems to distrust you most of all," Aragorn said in frustration.

"Yes, which only strengthens my suspicions. Fear not," Gandalf smiled reassuringly, "If anyone can reach our boy, it's his Sam." He patted Aragorn's shoulder then turned and went to the mouth of the cave. He tapped Legolas lightly and, after conversing shortly with the elf, took the next watch. Legolas came towards Aragorn.

"I am most distressed about this turn of events with Frodo," he said softly.

Aragorn nodded sadly. "We all are Legolas. I have told Frodo that he has only a short amount of time to collect his thoughts, then we will have to treat him or he will be lost to us."

"Perhaps some fresh meat will cheer everyone. I believe I will go for a short scout of the area, perhaps I will bring back something for Sam's stewpot," he said forcing a laugh. Aragorn smiled wanly at him.

"Thank you, my friend. Go with care, the blizzard still rages outside," Aragorn said with concern.

"I shall be careful and will return shortly. I know that you have been preoccupied with Frodo's care, but Merry and Pippin have been behaving oddly," the elf said looking over at the two huddled forms. Both were shivering and pale and Aragorn swore at himself for being neglectful of their needs, not noticing anything amiss sooner.

"Odd? How so?" he asked quietly, looking towards the duo.

"Both seem to be in some pain, but quickly mask it whenever I chance by or they see me looking their way," the elf said, turning towards Aragorn so the hobbits would not see him speaking of them.

Thank you, Legolas. I shall look into it, and happy hunting," he slapped the elf on the shoulder as Legolas bundled himself within his cloak and left the cave.

Aragorn chanced a glance towards Sam who was determinedly pounding a rock onto something. He watched for a moment, curious as to what the gardener was doing and decided finally to look into it further after checking on Merry and Pippin. He shook his head, reflecting once more, on the strange pastimes of the endearing little folk, and walked over to where Merry and Pippin sat. They were huddled together talking quietly; Pippin speaking earnestly and gesturing frequently with his hands. Aragorn noticed that both hobbits' hands were swaddled in cloth and, on further scrutiny that not only were their hands bound, but their feet as well. Knowing that hobbits aggressively resisted having their tough feet covered only intensified the ranger's interest. As he approached they quieted and looked sadly up at Aragorn.

"Gentlemen, are you well?" he asked.

"How is Frodo?" Pippin blurted, ignoring the question.

"He is currently beyond my care. But Sam has agreed, eagerly, to try his hand at convincing Frodo to eat and take his medicines," Aragorn said grimly. The hobbits relaxed slightly upon hearing this news and, surreptuously, tucked their feet underneath them. Aragorn noticed that the hands of both, visible only moments ago, were also now concealed. He knelt down next to them and extended his hand. "Pippin let me look at your hands, please." Green eyes darted towards his cousin and there was a tense moment when the ranger was sure the hobbit would resist. Merry nodded slightly and Pippin looked imploringly at Aragorn.

"You won't be angry?" he asked in a small voice.

"No, of course not, little one," Aragorn said with a smile. Pippin hesitantly extended his small hands and Aragorn carefully unwrapped them. He marveled again at how diminutive a hobbit's hands were when compared to his own. When the bindings were removed he gasped at what he saw. "Merry, please, show me your hands," he said hurriedly. Merry slowly extended his hands to the ranger and Aragorn carefully unwrapped them. He hissed again. "How long have they been like this, gentlemen?" He asked gruffly. He attempted to calm himself, remembering his promise to Pippin. But it was difficult to refrain from an elvish oath as he scrutinized the bluing fingertips. The hobbits looked at each other and said nothing. "Merry … Pippin, it is most important that you tell me," he whispered in concern.

"Well, uh...right after Frodo was brought up the mountain. What was it, Pip, three days or so?" Merry asked Pippin calmly.

"Aye, that'd be about right, Mer'." He turned to Aragorn. "We were all so worried about Frodo that we decided he needed care more than we did. We still feel that way, Strider. Frodo needs you. You shouldn't be wasting your time on us," Pippin said defiantly.

Aragorn stared at both of them, mouth agape. "You realize you could lose your fingers and unless I miss my guess, judging by the wrappings, your toes as well?" They nodded slowly. Each had grim and determined expressions on their faces.

"It matters little, Strider, if Frodo loses his life because you were busy with us and sacrificed his care to do so," said Merry stubbornly.

Again the ranger's mouth dropped open as he looked incredulously from Merry to Pippin. Pippin straightened his back and pulled his hands away from the healer. "You are both important to this Fellowship or Elrond would never have allowed you to accompany us." He leaned forward as he spoke and looked lovingly at them both. "You are needed by Frodo and have shown your worth and honor on more than one occasion. You must never think you are of lesser importance than any other member in our group just because you do not carry a deadly talisman about your neck. I fear I have failed you, by neglecting your care. Frodo would tan your hides, as well as my own, if he knew you were suffering because of some misguided belief that he was more important." Pippin and Merry both grinned picturing Frodo 'tanning Aragorn's hide'. “Frodo's care will not suffer, and neither will anyone else's while I draw breath," Aragorn said with conviction.

They looked skeptically at the future King. "We know we are of little use except as extra baggage to the Fellowship, Strider. You do not have to say otherwise just to protect our feelings," Merry murmured. "We don't cook, that's Sam's job. We don't hunt, or carry heavy burdens; Legolas, Boromir and even Gimli do all of that. We have little or no knowledge of the surrounding lands or of Sauron and his intentions. Those are areas best left to you and Gandalf. We are merely excess baggage, having no real skills or use among the Fellowship.” Merry said all of this matter-of-factly, trying to keep emotion from his voice and face. But Aragorn had seen his lip quiver and Pippin's eyes had slowly filled with tears as Merry spoke. He reached over and pulled them both to him tightly. He spoke softly, worried that these two exuberant beings could think so little of themselves.

"Merry," he said gently, "Who was it that wove the ropes that pulled Frodo to safety?"

Merry and Pippin looked across Strider's lap at each other. "We did. But anyone could have done that," Merry added quietly.

"Aye, in time the ropes could have been made by another, but there was no time, Merry. And through your efforts and quick thinking you probably saved Frodo from freezing," Aragorn said patiently. "Pippin, who was it that helped prepare the mustard plaster for Frodo?" He asked softly.

"I did, but Strider I know you didn't really need my help. You could've done it all by yourself," Pippin's voice quavered.

"Aye Pippin, but you contributed your hands and heart by telling me stories of the Shire while I worked," Aragorn said quietly. "Both of you are here to remind Frodo of what he left behind. Your jokes and pranks inject much needed levity to Frodo's very dark and frightening world. The Ring has robbed him of his gaiety. It is slowly filling his mind with darkness; taking his memories of the Shire and joy of everyday things. It whispers constantly to him, day and night, of things he can have or do or be if he will but put It on his finger. He fights It all of his waking hours and It haunts him as he tries to rest; a rest he is unable to find. It has slowly stolen all desire to sleep, eat or be with his friends and kin." He stared off into space as he spoke, his voice and expression, full of grief. He looked at them and saw how pale they had both become, their eyes filled with fear for their cousin.

"What can we do, Strider? Tell us. We'll do anything to help Frodo," Pippin said earnestly. Strider smiled at him, satisfied that he was making his point.

"But Pippin, you and Merry are *already* doing things that help Frodo. You laugh. You sing and dance. Your very love of life and a good joke helps Frodo to feel joy and be able to escape that gloomy void of the ring. He smiles and laughs and, many times, I've heard him energetically speaking of people or happenings of the Shire with both of you." He smiled at their eager, upturned faces. "You give him hope, and that is more important than food, water or medicines. You will be needed even more in the coming days. Frodo has fallen into despair and he is very ill. We will need you both to talk with him and convince him to trust us all once again. It will be very tiring and emotionally draining but so very important if Frodo is to survive his injuries."

"Will he die?" Pippin asked, his voice quavering.

Strider hesitated, not wanting to upset the hobbits but also not wanting to lie to them. "He could, yes Pippin. He needs nourishment, medicines and time to heal. He has secreted himself inside the smaller cave and seems especially afraid of Gandalf and myself. He appears to still trust Sam and the both of you, to some degree, which gives us hope that he can be reached. So you see, gentlemen, you are hardly 'excess baggage' and are very much needed within our Fellowship," he said, hugging both of them to him. They squealed as he gently tickled over their ribs before releasing them.

"Did you hear that, Merry? They need us!" Pippin chirped.

Merry smiled at the ranger, "I feel much better just hearing those words, Strider."

"Of course, Merry. Everyone wants to feel needed. Speaking of need what I *need* right now are two hobbits to show me their feet," he said. Both unwrapped their feet and Strider examined the blue toes. "Can you feel anything? Do they tingle?" he asked, hoping for the correct response.

"Oh aye, they tingle all the time like they're on fire or sometimes like they've gone to sleep and are just waking back up. My fingers are a bit more numb I think, but by bedtime they hurt something awful," Pippin said. Merry nodded indicating he felt much the same way.

Aragorn picked up a small sharp stick. "Merry, look at Pippin and don't watch me. Tell me if you can feel this." Merry locked eyes with Pippin and then yelped as Aragorn poked the sharp end of the twig into one of the damaged toes.

"Strider! That hurt!" he exclaimed, gently rubbing the toe and giving Aragorn a deadly look.

Aragorn smiled. "Good. Then the damage is no irreparable." He crossed to the fire and picked up a pot of water that had been sitting off to the side. He added athelas leaves, murmuring as he did so. He crossed back to the duo and sat back down. The water was warm but not hot and he soaked rags and gently washed Merry then Pippin's hands and feet. He poured the water into two shallow pans and, bending the hobbits knees, placed their feet into the warm bath. At first, they both squirmed uncomfortably, but as their feet adjusted to the warmer water they began to relax. After their feet had soaked until they were pruney, Strider removed them from the water, dried them and, reaching into his bag, withdrew something that made both hobbits start. Socks. "These are made of wool and should keep your feet quite warm," he murmured.

"But Strider, that's why we have hair on our feet," Merry said, objecting to having to wear *anything* on the oversized appendage.

"Yes, and under normal circumstances that would be sufficient, but these are *not* normal circumstances." He looked towards the mouth of the cave where the blizzard continued, unabated. Both hobbits squirmed uncomfortably in the unfamiliar footwear.

"How are we supposed to walk? They're so big, we'll trip and fall," Pippin lamented.

Aragorn smiled. "Just wear them tonight and if your toes look somewhat better in the morning, you won't have to wear them during the day, only at night, I promise." He studied their hands with a frown. "I am afraid all we have for your hands, after they soak, is flannel bindings," he said.

"Not so, my friend." Legolas, covered so completely in snow that he looked like a living, breathing snow elf, entered the cave and held up four large snow hares. "After I skin our dinner I would be most happy to tan the hides..."Merry and Pippin giggled, the image of Frodo tanning Aragorn's hide once again being brought to mind. Legolas glanced at the three, confused. "What did I say? Did I miss something?" he asked.

Aragorn smiled and shot mock glares at both hobbits, which only made them laugh harder, then turned back to the elf. "No Legolas, you didn't miss a thing."

Legolas frowned slightly. "I could make mittens for all of the hobbits," he continued.

Aragorn smiled. "Excellent idea, Legolas. We should never have left Rivendell without warmer cloaks or, at the very least, gloves for the hobbits. Even with these leather like soles," he lifted one of Pippin's feet and tickled it until the hobbit pulled away, giggling, “Flesh is still susceptible to frostbite. For tonight, until the hides cure, we can put more socks on your hands." Merry looked mortified.

"Is that really necessary, Strider?" he whined.

"I am afraid it is, Merry. The tissue needs to be kept warm, not hot, just warm for the next few days. If they do not require amputation..."

"Amputation?" The hobbits said in unison.

"Yes, gentlemen. That is the standard treatment for frostbite." He grinned wickedly at them. "Let that be a lesson to you both to come to me next time." He ignored their panicked expressions feeling that, perhaps, this would get their attention more, wrapped the hands in warmed cloths and rose. "I am confident you will not require such drastic measures * this time* but I would not tempt fate again, young masters." He wiped the grin from his face as both hobbits nodded fiercely, and went to check on Sam.

As he drew nearer to the hobbit he saw that Sam was methodically crushing something into a fine powder. He watched, discreetly, for a moment as Sam muttered something under his breath then brought a smooth, round stone down hard onto a flat stone.

"Sam? May I join you?" he asked quietly. Sam shot a glare at him and then resumed his pounding. Now he was rolling the round stone over the flat stone in smooth, even strokes.

"It's a free world, at least for now, I suppose," came the gruff reply. Sam looked over his shoulder at Merry and Pippin. "'They all right?" he asked softly.

"Yes, they will be fine. They have some frostbite, but they were fortunate. It is a milder case," Aragorn said studying the gardener.

Sam looked sullenly up at the ranger. "You *will* make sure they wash my pans, won't you?"

Aragorn smiled, "Yes, that will be their last duty before going to bed, unless they want you to awaken them before dawn so that you can fix them a meal."

Sam let out a laugh. "That would be interesting now, wouldn't it?" He turned back to his work, adding more granules to the powder and crushing it between the two rocks.

"What are you doing over here, Sam?" Aragorn asked, nodding towards work area.

"I've a bit o' wheat, not much more 'n a taste, really. But I thought Mr. Frodo might have wanted some scones or biscuits on our journey, so I nabbed it afore we left." He looked sadly over towards the entrance to the smaller cave. "Don't suppose he'll be wantin' any of them, though." He looked down at the stone and stared at the flour. Seemingly he made a decision and then once again, began to crush the wheat.

Aragorn smiled at him in wonder. "Wheat. No wonder your pack is so heavy, Sam, what with all of the surprises you continue to pull from it," he chuckled.

"Mr. Frodo needs things he don't even know he needs. It's just my job, is all, ta take care o' him," Sam replied curtly, but his face still flushed at the compliment.

"He's very lucky to have you with him, Sam."

Sam turned angry eyes on Aragorn. "And I him, sir. *I* won't just let him slip away like some others would," he said pointedly.

Now it was Aragorn's turn to flush. "I will not let him 'slip away', Sam. I fully plan to not only get Frodo well again, but to keep him warm and safely ensconced within his friends' and family’s' love."

"Oh really, sir? And how might you be goin' ta do that, if I may be so bold?" Sam said sarcastically.

"You, Sam. You, Merry and Pippin will talk with Frodo about the Shire and the things he loves; his memories of happier times, his love of Bilbo, his long acquaintance with Gandalf. You will show him that he need not fear any of you, any of us, and through you, we will regain his trust and be able to treat him," Strider said softly.

Sam gave a harsh laugh. "Mr. Frodo don't want none of us near him. How am I supposed to get him to take medicines and food? Who other than those two crazy hobbits, a dwarf, an elf and a bunch of men, is goin' to taste my dumplins'?" His voice broke as he said this and a large, fat tear slowly coursed down his cheek. He wiped impatiently at it.

"We will put medicine in the soup..."

"NO! I'll have no part o' it. I won't have him thinkin' I'm poisonin' him by doin' such," Sam yelled, dropping the stone as he jumped to his feet.

Aragorn raised his hands in supplication. "Peace, Sam, peace. The only medicines I will give for his broth will be rue, garlic, onions, and cayenne. These have beneficial qualities that all of the Fellowship can enjoy and are flavorful as well. You will show Frodo each time you take him a meal, that the soup or teas are harmless, by taking a portion for yourself as well." Sam hesitated.

"It won't taste bad or make him sleepy or nothin'?" he asked.

"No, Sam. Only herbs that boost Frodo's health *and* are palatable will be used, I promise," Aragorn said, his eyes pleading. "Sam, if we do not get these medicines into Frodo, he will weaken and die," he said quietly.

Alarm filled Sam's eyes and he bent again to finish grinding the wheat into flour. "Then we bes' hurry, Mr. Strider. My master needs our help."

"What can I do to help?" Aragorn said with a small grin.

Sam smiled warmly at the ranger and handed him the snow hares. "I appreciate the help, Strider, and I know he will too." He glanced again over at the caves entrance, and then began grinding the flour with renewed purpose. "Yes, sir, he will too," he whispered.

To be continued…hopefully sooner than last time.

I was appalled when I pulled up my reviews to comment on them and saw that I had not updated since 11/28. The normal excuses prevail; I’m afraid … RL, work, and holidays, RL etc. I can only say how very sorry I am that it took so long, and hope to do better in the future. (Dodges almost all of the rotten tomatoes and makes hurried escape)

Linriel – Such fantastic praise!! I only hope that you are still out there waiting to read the continuing saga of Frodo et al. I truly appreciated your review, thank you.

Lindahoyland – Thank you, thank you, thank you. Things will right themselves soon, but first I have to inflict some more angst on the reader and on our dear boy. But never fear, all will be to rights by the end. Thanks so much once again.

Endymion2 – How are you my friend? Sorry it’s taken so very long to get back into the swing of things. As to the quote of the title…I took it from Bartlett’s Quotable Quotes (a treasure trove for chapter and fic titles) and I interpret it as follows: I think it means that Frodo should not act solely on the events of a one time dream. That to base all of his fear and paranoia on what he witnessed in a dream would be folly (to quote Boromir). Of course, that is assuming it is only a one-time dream. Frodo also has many other obvious factors screwing with his head…he’s sick, he’s hurt, he carries evil incarnate around his neck and he has the lovely Lorelei guiding him to his doom. Guess we’ll just have to see what happens next huh? (Muhahahahaha)

ShireElf – Thanks for the tip on the word “drug”. I truly do want feedback about things such as these, thanks so much. Glad I had you sitting up straight on the edge of your chair! Sorry about the huge delay in updating. That’s why I always list all of my authors on story alerts…it’s a Godsend when you’re trying to follow a story.

BraellyraLeatherleaf – Please, please read on and come back for more.

Iorhael – I wish Elrond were there as well. It would make it ever so much more simple to cure and mend our boy (author laziness showing through)

The Ninth Spelunker – Wow a newby!! Hope you’re still out there to read what happens next. Sorry it took so long, but am hugely gratified that you’re addicted. They say it only takes 30 days to cure an addiction (harrumph, try that with cigarettes, I dare you), let’s hope that’s not the case, otherwise I fear you have moved on by now, to authors that update more regularly than I did. Usually I’m pretty good, honest. BTW, bet you love that this takes place in a cave looking at your moniker.

Althea – Love that you’re apparently hooked. Never fear, Frodo will eventually come to his senses. But he has to relearn to trust, I’m afraid, and this will start with those he knows best, ie hobbits. Sorry about the delay…see excuses above. LOL.

FrodoBaggins87 – Love that you love it. I seem to just get so many jollies tearing our Frodo apart inside and out. Glad you’re a fellow angst lover.





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List