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.

Once again, I must apologize for the lateness of this entry. I can only promise one thing to you, loyal reader, and that is that this story will be completed. I do not believe in unfinished tales, no matter how long it may take me to write them. I, however, cannot promise you that delays won't happen. It takes time to write the chapter and I seem to have a very busy schedule these last few months. All I can do, it would seem, is to offer my apologies and assurances and do the best that I possibly can. Thanks for sticking with me and now let's get to the story....

I had thought this to be the last chapter of this story, but it seems the Muse had other ideas. It’s a long one, so sit back with your cup of tea and relax.

Chapter 13

The Choices of Master Frodo

The corridor seemed to be darker than what Frodo remembered. It smelled of the dank mustiness associated with being underground and he did not believe he would ever be able to go down into Bilbo’s cellar ever again, if given the opportunity to do so. There was always the rustling and he increased his pace hoping to outrun the vines that always seemed to claw and tear at his cloak.

He did not know why precisely, but he had begun to have serious doubts about Lorelei and her intentions. She had a power about her that frightened him, especially when she became angry, and there were times when he felt she had ulterior motives concerning himself and, especially, her supposed well meaning intentions towards the Ring. She sounded genuinely concerned about the predicament of Middle Earth, about how the Ring should be destroyed, but there was something that simply did not ring true, causing an already overwrought Frodo to worry even more that he had, somehow, thrown in his lot with the wrong side. She had only treated him with kindness and concern, but there were moments that Frodo was certain he caught a look of vindictive glee when he was in pain or under duress.

When he finally emerged into the wide room, he was breathing heavily. Lorelei sat in front of a large guilt mirror that was encircled with forms of serpents encrusted in gold and jewels. As she slowly brushed her hair she hummed softly to herself, the brush moving languidly through the spun gold locks.

“Ah, Frodo, my dear, it has been far too long since you have come to visit with me,” she said, a pretty little pout on her lips. “I had thought, perhaps, you had begun to find me boorish.”

“Oh, no, my lady, never that!” Frodo said alarmed at offending the beautiful woman. She is beautiful, he thought to himself. All previous doubts as to the integrity of this siren were banished immediately from his head. As he gazed at the lovely vision before him he could not ever imagine feeling anything but fealty to her. She wore a long flowing gown in lightest green, tied with a jeweled sash about her small waist. Her hair hung down to the middle of her back and shimmered as if lit from within. Her eyes, a deep ocean blue, sparkled with mischief as she smiled over at him. The rose-colored mouth smiling precociously as it revealed perfectly straight, white teeth. She giggled flirtatiously, causing him to blush to his toes and lower his eyes.

“My deepest apologies, Lorelei,” he bowed low. “I am, as always, your servant.” Frodo did not see the look of triumph that filled her face as he bowed. He stood erect and she smiled sweetly at him as she placed a single kiss on his forehead. He felt, again, the clammy chill when her lips touched him. It was as if something reptilian had caressed him and he instinctively drew back, covering his actions with a small blush.

She seemed not to notice, perhaps thinking her ‘suitor’ just a bit shy.

She motioned towards a hobbit sized overstuffed armchair and, once Frodo was comfortable, she sat down on an ottoman in front of him, adjusting her skirts as she did so. “So, Frodo, what is the meaning for this lovely visit, hmm?” She asked coyly.

Frodo looked confusedly at her. “I always thought that when I came to you in my dreams that it was you, my lady, that had summoned me,” he said hesitantly.

“Not always, my dear. Sometimes I have need to speak with you or caution you and send you a summons as you sleep, but I did not do that this eve,” she smiled sweetly. Even though she was always the one who instigated their meetings, she wanted him to think that some pressing matter, that he alone was aware of, had made him seek her out. She watched him as he digested this fact. “I think I know what troubles you so, Frodo. It is the nightmare, is it not?”

Frodo looked up sharply. “I cannot deny that it haunts me by day and by night, but I have decided that it is only a dream brought on by injury and ill health and nothing more,” he said, trying to sound convinced.

“I see,” Lorelei said solemnly. Frodo’s eyes locked with hers.

“Am I mistaken in thinking this?” he asked uncertainly.

She looked troubled. “Frodo, I believe that you feel I am trying to lead you down a road you do not wish to travel. It truly is not my intention to do so and, perhaps, I have already said and done too much in my attempts to see that good win over evil. I have thought on this long and hard and I feel that I am not helping you, although I have tried, and should step aside and allow you to rely on your own feelings on this matter,” she sighed dejectedly, dabbing her eyes daintily with a lightly scented handkerchief.

“No, you cannot leave me alone on this. I greatly desire your counsel. Please, my lady, tell me what I am to do, for I am lost and alone. I fear that, if left to my own device, I will choose poorly and all will fail even to the ending of Middle Earth and the deaths of my friends.” He looked at her, his eyes pleading for her intervention.

Lorelei smiled. “I had thought you had chosen not to hear my counsel when you decided to eat and drink with your Fellowship.”

Frodo cringed. “I was unable to resist their efforts to feed me. It was not that I desired to disobey you, my lady, it was just that I was so weak and ill.”

It had not gone unnoticed to Lorelei that Frodo had said ‘disobey’ and she felt triumphant that she was slowly pulling him in to do whatever she desired. “Nevertheless, Frodo, it did cause me much anguish and I worried that you might be poisoned or worse. But it seems, my thoughts on this matter were mistaken and that, perhaps, your group of friends are not as ill meaning as I had first surmised. Still…I firmly believe that there are those members of the Fellowship that will be turned by the Ring. Never forget, Frodo, that the Ring is a powerful seductress and will enslave all who are in its presence as time goes by.”

A cold chill ran down Frodo’s spine as he searched his memories for any suspicious looks or conversation concerning himself or the Ring. He could only bring to mind Boromir and his desire to take Frodo and the Ring to Minas Tirith. The man had been adamant about what he believed to be the best and only choice Frodo could make. “I shall be wary, my lady, although it is not in my nature to be distrustful, especially of those who have sworn their allegiance to me and our cause.”

“As you wish, Frodo. It is, after all, your decision,” she said flatly. “The nightmare…you are mistaken thinking it is only a dream, Frodo. It is a vision of things to come if you continue on your current course.”

Frodo’s eyes widened. “That is impossible. I would never do such things as are in the nightmare. I care dearly for those I travel with and detest violence of any kind. I simply cannot believe that I would be capable of such a thing,” he said emphatically.

“No Frodo, You would not do those things. But the Ring is already taking hold of you, I know that you know this, and soon you will be unable to resist it.” She leaned forward as Frodo clutched at the chain about his neck. He pulled the Ring out, as if in a dream, and grasped it firmly in his hand. Lorelei’s eyes shifted from Frodo’s face to his fist, looking lustfully at that which he clasped. “You hear it, don’t you Frodo? Its taunts and promises as it weaves its tendrils about your soul. You will be unable to resist whatever it tells you to do when the Ring deems the time is right,” she whispered.

Frodo turned frightened eyes up to hers. “But what can I do to prevent this? I… I would find my own death preferable to the slaying of my friends, Lady,” Frodo said.

“I will help you, Frodo, but only if you will do as I say. It will be difficult for you, but it is the only way to avoid this catastrophe,” she soothed.

“Anything, Lady, I will do anything to change this course of events.”

“You must leave them, Frodo, so that they will be safe,” she said.

“But how? Even now my body is broken and sickness rages within it. They are with me always, doing what they can to restore my health. They would never permit me to leave,” he said, confused that she would even suggest such a thing.

Lorelei rose abruptly, crossing to the settee in front of the mirror and, once again, took up the brush. “Again I offer advice and again you question it,” she said bitterly.

“No, no it is not that, Lorelei, it’s just that I do not know if I can do as you suggest. I am unable to move without great pain, especially in my hip, even though you were kind enough to heal it to some degree. I am weakened by illness and lack of food and, as I said, they would never permit me to leave and travel alone,” he rushed to explain.

“I will do what I can to help heal your hip further. As to the other issues, the Ranger that travels with you carries a healers pouch if I am not mistaken.” Frodo nodded. “Inside this pouch is an herb that will induce sleep if added to their water for tea. Put some of the herb in the water, do not drink of it yourself or you will suffer their fate, then you will be able to easily escape.”

“It won’t hurt them, my lady? Only make them sleep?”

Lorelei looked at him in the mirror. “You should not be overly concerned about their well-being, Frodo but, no, it will not hurt them. Take the Ring to Saruman, Frodo, he is not your enemy … indeed, he will be your redeemer in matters of the Ring.”

Frodo looked at her doubtfully. “Saruman, my lady?”

“Yes, Frodo. He alone is wise enough to guide you on how best to proceed. He will have freed himself from the orcs that Gandalf the Gray has used to enslave him by the time you reach Orthanc. From there, he will take possession of the Ring and see to its destruction. You will then be free to return to your homeland, as will your friends.” Frodo gulped, his eyes filling with tears, and looked away. “Do you doubt me once again, Ringbearer?” she said scornfully.

He looked at her closely. He did not feel this was the best course of action, but was at a loss of what to do to make sure his friends would be safe. “No, my lady,” he lied. “It’s just that…. I…I am badly frightened. I do not know if I can do this thing alone.” His voice wavered and he looked up at her reflection beseechingly.

She smiled beatifically over at him. “Of course you can, Frodo. You are much stronger than you appear. You have a steadfast desire to see this through, no matter the consequences, and I will help you in any way that I can,” she said lovingly.

Frodo still looked hesitant and Lorelei decided it was time to ensure the hobbit would make the correct choice. She began to languidly brush her hair with the bejeweled brush. Frodo’s eyes fixed on the brush as it glided effortlessly through her long tresses. “Your brush, Lorelei, it is so beautiful,” he said lazily.

“Yes, it is lovely, isn’t it? See how the jewels catch the light? Green, red, blue, white…each stone seems almost as if it is lit from within, does it not?” Her voice dipped low, becoming a mere whisper, without inflection or emotion. “Watch how it slips through my hair effortlessly.” Lorelei watched Frodo in the mirror, his eyes beginning to droop and his body to slump. “You are so tired, my friend, settle back and relax. The cushions are soft and you will feel no pain to your injuries. Frodo subconsciously shifted his body to a more comfortable position.

‘I am so tired,’ Frodo thought to himself. ‘Perhaps a short nap is all I need.’ He watched the brush make one stroke then another, all the while Lorelei spoke to him, but he could not concentrate on her words as his eyes remained fixed on the comb.

“You are so tired, Frodo. All you can see is the brush and the jewels as they sparkle and twirl, all you can hear is my voice…the voice of your beloved Lorelei,” she droned. “You will take the sleeping herb from the Ranger’s pouch and place some into the water to be used for tea. Once everyone is asleep, you will slip from the cave and take the Ring to Saruman. Remember the dream, Frodo. If you do not do this, your friends will die…you will kill them. Each time you feel doubt about what you are to do, you will remember the dream. They will die, Frodo, by your hand. Do not tell them of the dream. It will cause them to worry, Frodo. The dream is a secret between yourself and Lorelei. You will take the Ring to Saruman the White. He is wisest of all who live in Middle Earth and will help you. He will be your friend and confidant. He is not your enemy, Frodo; he is your friend. He alone is wise enough to counsel you on affairs of the Ring. Do you understand?” Frodo nodded slowly. Lorelei smiled. “Very good, my friend, now rest…rest… you are so tired. When you wake you will be with your friends.” She rose slowly, crossing to the sleeping hobbit, and lightly touched his hip. Frodo sighed as some of the pain ebbed from him. And he slept.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“His fever is lower,” Aragorn said solemnly, “but he is far from healed as yet.” He sighed. They had been working for the better part of an hour, alternately layering frozen blankets over Frodo then removing them, trying to find a happy medium of comfort for the Ringbearer. The sweat dewed face twisted back and forth on the makeshift pillow as the hobbit fought some unseen foe in some imagined world. He had been in the throes of delirium most of the night and they had each taken turns at watching over him, washing his face and speaking softly words of encouragement in attempts to draw him back to them.

He wiped the forehead again and the blue eyes fluttered open. Frodo looked up into his gray eyes apologetically. “I am sorry, Aragorn, I was not strong enough,” he croaked.

Aragorn mistook this to believe that Frodo had decided to cease his struggles with the illness and injuries that riddled his body, and his face showed alarm. “You are doing well, Frodo, don’t give up on us yet, my friend,” he murmured.

Frodo smiled weakly. “Perhaps some water would change my mind,” he jested.

Aragorn grinned, “Very well, but ask no more of me. You drive far to hard a bargain and I am sure you would have me giving you the shirt off of my back next.”

As he retrieved a cup he heard, weakly, “Too large for me, I’m afraid.” Strider smiled his first smile of genuine joy in days, and brought the cup to the parched lips. Frodo drank thirstily, then fell back again, spent. “You need to continue to rest Frodo, to regain your strength. But first Sam has been very worried, and you realize that when he’s worried, he cooks,” Strider said with a grin.

“Dear, dear Sam, yes … that does sound like him. I am rather hungry. Do you think he has anything I could eat?”

“Let me check and see, but he did say something about mushroom soup and biscuits last time we spoke.” Frodo’s eyes lit up and Strider smiled again to see the obvious interest in the menu. He laid Frodo back down and rose, crossing to Sam, Merry and Pippin who were working on the evening meal. Frodo could hear a muffled conversation then Sam was instantly on his feet and running to be at his side.

“MR. FRODO!! Oh, my dear, I’ve been near frantic about you, sir! You’re a mite flushed, but you look perky enough. I’ve got taters and biscuits and Mr. Legolas has caught us some lovely fowl for dinner,” he exclaimed, obviously overjoyed, and quite breathless. His eyes glittered with unshed tears but his grin was huge.

“No….Soup?” Frodo asked with a wan smile.

“Aye, we have soup, sir if’n that’s what ya want. It’s left over from last night. Deer with potatoes and carrots, garlic and onions, it is,” he chuckled.

Frodo frowned. “Aragorn said you had mushroom soup,” Frodo glared up at the ranger, who just shrugged and looked innocently at Sam.

Sam giggled, “I can fix that up in a shake. I brought plenty of dried mushrooms with me and I’ve got all the other things right here by the fire.” He jumped to his feet, catching Pippin and a confused Merry, pulling them up with him. He explained and then all three began to dance joyfully in a circle. Sam whispered a few words to them and then there was a flurry of activity as they began fixing Frodo his mushroom soup.

“You lied,” Frodo said sternly to the ranger.

Strider smiled. “Yes I did but, to be fair, I really hadn’t expected you to show any interest whatsoever in whatever Sam was making. I am only thankful that Sam’s pack knows no bounds and that the ingredients were not an issue.” He gave Frodo another drink of water while the hobbit mock glared at him. He only chuckled at the look. He rose and retrieved the medicinal tea and Frodo drank a full cup of that as well.

“So, my friend, where have you traveled to? You have been in and out of consciousness for a day, and your dreams seemed most troubled,” the Ranger asked surreptitiously. He began to examine Frodo’s arm and ribs and then listened to the hobbit’s breathing. He nodded to himself, satisfied that the Ringbearer seemed to be healing at last.

As he moved to the hip he looked up into Frodo’s eyes. All signs of frivolity were gone and Frodo’s face was very pale. He frowned and was about to speak when the hobbit beat him to it. “I…I feel much better. I have no memory of my dreams,” he lied.

The Ringbearer had such a sweet, innocent face…his eyes a window to his soul and Aragorn immediately detected the falsehood. He imagined Frodo as a child trying to fib to his Uncle Bilbo and suspected that he had seldom been successful. “I see. Are you in a lot of pain still, Frodo? How is your breathing? Easier?” he asked cautiously.

“It is much better, thank you, Aragorn. I can breath almost normally now. It just feels like a summer cold.”

Aragorn had unwrapped the hip by now and gasped. “How is this possible?” He exclaimed. He had rocked back on his heels, a look of amazement suffusing his face. “Frodo, I had heard tales that hobbits healed at an accelerated rate, but this…this is not physically possible.” He peered into Frodo’s eyes. Was that guilt he saw? But what would Frodo have to be guilty of? He could not have done this wondrous thing. His brow furrowed. “Your hip is almost completely healed, Frodo. Do you know how this could have happened?” He watched his friend’s face closely and waited.

“Of course not, Aragorn. What would I know of such things? It must be all that tea you’ve been pouring down my throat every 5 minutes,” Frodo tried to joke, but his eyes did not meet Aragorn’s, and the ranger had his answer.

‘He’s lying,’ Aragorn thought in amazement, but why? And how was this possible when Frodo had never left them and no other being had been near him? He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end – Saruman, or one of his minions. Somehow, someone had healed Frodo’s hip, but why would they do such a thing, unless they wanted something of Frodo. The Ring…. Of course! Someone was manipulating their Ringbearer and needed him mobile to do their bidding. Aragorn’s stomach twisted into a knot. He would have to speak with Gandalf further on this, he thought to himself. He pasted a smile on his face as he slowly bent the leg up, testing its strength and watching for any sign of discomfort from Frodo. There was a grimace but, normally this kind of injury took many months to cure, and there was no other possible explanation to the miracle than that some powerful being had intervened on the hobbit’s behalf.

“You have almost full mobility, although I wager it will still be painful to walk on, which I expressly forbid you to do. We don’t want to take any chances on you taking a fall and re-injuring it, do we?” Aragorn murmured.

Frodo shook is head. He looked into Aragorn’s eyes and knew, without a doubt, that the ranger was on to him. He had never been a good liar and, although Aragorn had not pressed him, he knew that he also did not believe him. He felt guilty at having to lie to his friends, but knew that if he were successful in the deception, that they would be safe—‘safe from me’, he thought or, at least, the Frodo of his nightmare.

Aragorn rose slowly. “You should rest, Frodo. I will wake you when the meal is ready…your mushroom soup,” he said with a grin.

Frodo smiled. They were too kind to him. At the moment he was painfully aware that he did not deserve such treatment. “Thank you, Aragorn, for everything,” he murmured, his eyes filling with tears. “I will always remember the kindness that you have shown me, and your friendship.” His eyes slipped slowly shut of their own accord, and soon he was lost to the world of slumber. His last thoughts were of his friends, and he felt a sense of relief and contentment knowing that they would be safe.

Aragorn walked slowly over to Gandalf, “I have grave concerns for our Ringbearer. I believe he has been manipulated into actions that will prove hazardous to his very life,” he said.

“Yes, I have felt this as well. I cannot enter into his dreams until he is stronger. To do so would threaten his very sanity. I am concerned that Saruman will have him so completely under his spell that he will not allow me to join thoughts with him,” the Istari murmured.

“Is it so necessary to have Frodo concede on this matter? Can you not join with him without his consent?” The ranger said worriedly.

“I can. But it is more difficult to do so. The strain may be too much for him.” The wizard looked worriedly over at the sleeping Ringbearer. “But if I must I will do so if only to free him of this influence and allow him to truly heal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next few days showed much improvement in Frodo’s health. He still had the persistent fever but was gradually able to tolerate solid foods and his strength slowly came back to him. As he regained his strength, he was filled with a feeling of dread, knowing that soon he would be forced to subdue his friends and journey on without them. Aragorn had begun to leave his healer’s pouch next to where Frodo slept and one night, after the ranger had examined his injuries, Frodo palmed the pouch of Valerian root. He was sure the healer would notice and was relieved when Aragorn, rummaging through the pouch, did not miss the drug.

Each night one of the Fellowship was into the habit of having one of its members sleep nearby. Frodo thought this would be a hindrance to his plans, but two days after his awakening from his encounter with Lorelei, Pippin decided it was his turn to sleep next to his cousin. Pippin could never stay awake, no matter how he tried. It was one of the reasons he seldom drew guard duty. The youngling would nod off after only a couple of hours and it was no different this night. He curled up next to Frodo and the warmth and comfort of his cousin’s nearness soon had him fast asleep.

Gimli was on guard this night and Frodo was grateful for that fact. The dwarf only had eyes for movements outside the cave entrance and had long sense learned to disregard any sounds from his comrades, thinking them to be only the movements of slumber.

Frodo slowly disengaged himself from his mound of blankets and began to rise. His arm and leg throbbed painfully as he began his slow crawl towards the fire and the pot of water Sam had placed on a rock near the coals. He looked nervously around at the sleeping forms before pouring a healthy portion of the contents of the pouch into the kettle. He frowned, worried that he had put too much or, perhaps not enough, into the tea water. He wanted to induce sleep so that he could make his escape but he didn’t want to put so much in that he would harm his friends. Aragorn mumbled in his sleep and turned over. Frodo’s heart nearly leapt from his chest, sure that he had been discovered, but the ranger resumed the slow, steady breathing of one who was asleep. He glanced at the rest of the Fellowship to make sure he was not being observed, giving the mouth of the cave one more glance, seeing that Gimli still faced outward, oblivious of what was transpiring. Frodo slowly crawled back to his bedroll, panting from the effort, his heart racing. He curled up on his side, tears in his eyes for what he had done, and dropped off into an uneasy doze.

The next morning Sam rose early, as usual, in order to prepare tea and breakfast for the group. It was a duty that he took very seriously, even enjoying the few moments of peace before Pippin and Merry would begin to pester him about how long it would be until breakfast. Frodo had slept little and now he watched as Sam hummed to himself, moving around the campfire and stoking the blaze to life. He placed the kettle in the coals to heat the water for tea. Soon he had a pan sizzling with salted pork and potatoes with gravy. The smells roused the remaining members of the Fellowship and they began to rise, one by one, murmuring morning greetings to each other.

When the tea was ready Sam dutifully poured cups for each of the members. Frodo watched to see if anyone would notice a strange aftertaste to the brew, but no one made comment and drank the beverage as usual.

Sam brought him a plate of food and a cup of tea. “Here you go Mr. Frodo. Now, you eat up and I’ll be back soon to see that it’s all gone,” he said with a wink.

Frodo reached out and captured his friends’ sleeve. “Sam, I haven’t told you recently how very much I appreciate all that you do for me. I was against you coming with me at first, because of the danger, but you need to know how glad I am that you did. You have been a comfort and a true friend even when I was not exactly at my best,” Frodo said earnestly.

Sam frowned, wondering at his Master’s emotional state. “Not at all, Master. I couldn’t let you go into the unknown alone,” he said slowly. He squeezed Frodo’s hand and left to serve the rest of the Fellowship.

Pippin yawned widely. “I am still so sleepy, I think I’ll just curl up here and take a nap, if that’s alright with you, cousin,” he said groggily.

“Of course, Pippin. You just rest for a bit,” Frodo said lovingly touching the tousled curls one last time.

One by one each of the members of the group began to nod and then, at last, drop off into a drug induced sleep. When Frodo was satisfied that they were all unconscious, he slowly rose from his bedroll. A wave of nausea and dizziness immediately assaulted him and he panicked, thinking he would not be strong enough to leave the cave. But gradually his body steadied and he limped painfully across the cave. He stopped at each member of the Fellowship and said his goodbyes. When he came to Aragorn he bent down and touched the man’s forehead.

“Forgive me, my friend, but I have to do this so that you will all be safe,” he murmured. Aragorn’s eyes slipped slowly open and Frodo’s heart leapt in his throat.

“Frodo, why are you out of bed?” the ranger said slowly. “You should not be up.” He shook his head trying to rouse himself. “Why am I so sleepy?” he asked.

“I am sorry, Aragorn, but I had to make sure you would not try and stop me,” Frodo said quietly.

“Frodo, no…you … you cannot. Do not…. do not do this thing, I implore you.”

“You cannot follow me, Aragorn. This is something I have to do alone, and you cannot protect me any longer,” Frodo said, tearfully.

The ranger tried to reach out and capture one of Frodo’s hands but his arms felt so heavy and fell useless by his side. His eyes drifted shut and he was helpless to the effects of the drug as he fell asleep.

Frodo leaned against the cave wall, pushing himself upright, and slowly made his way to the cave entrance. He glanced back one last time before pulling his cloak closer about him and slipped out into the blizzard.

Tbc.