Chapter 11: All Shall Fade

Warning: This is going to get a bit gruesome.

Gandalf arrived at Rivendell during the night and immediately sought out Elrond. He was smiled in relief to see Frodo there, safe in Sam’s arms, and Merry and Pippin collapsed on the other bed nearby. The Elf looked up from his work when the wizard appeared.

"So he was wounded again," Gandalf said.

"In the same place and in the leg. I’ve removed the shard from the shoulder, but I haven’t yet found the other tip."

Gandalf let out a breath and approached the unconscious and for the moment quiet hobbit. He squeezed Frodo’s arm and spoke quietly to his gravely injured friend in the language of the Maia, a blessing and hope for healing. Frodo murmured something, then was still again. Gandalf let go, straightened and looked at Elrond. "The cold lingers."

Elrond nodded gravely. "Until the other tip is found, it will continue to spread."

Gandalf gripped Frodo’s wrist. "Hold on, Frodo," he said softly. "Come back to us." He looked around at the three hobbits. "We are all waiting for you."

Several hours later, the hobbits woke and joyfully greeted Gandalf. Bilbo walked in then and brightened to see his old friend. "Well, it’s about time you got here, Gandalf," he said.

The wizard smiled. "It’s very good to see you, too, Bilbo."

The four hobbits then looked anxiously at Frodo for any improvement. Pippin took his hand. "He’s still so cold," he said.

"Until the shard in his leg is removed, he will remain so," Elrond said gently. He brought forward the instruments he had prepared for that part of the surgery. The three younger hobbits paled as they caught sight of them and appetites already markedly diminished by worry disappeared all together. Even Bilbo looked concerned.

The Elf lord regarded them sympathetically. "I will be removing the tip in a few moments. After that, we will know in a few hours how well Frodo is going to recover. It won’t be easy to watch this anymore than the shoulder wound. Are you certain you wish to stay?"

"I’m staying," Sam said firmly.

"I’m staying," Merry said and then turned to look at his younger cousin.

The tween swallowed visibly. "I’m staying," he said in a small voice. He looked the palest, but also the most determined.

Bilbo and Gandalf smiled proudly at them all. "So will I," the elderly hobbit said.

"Then we shall begin," Elrond said. He touched Frodo’s forehead gently. "Idh, tithen min," he murmured. The hobbits watched Frodo’s features relax as the Elf healer sent the little one into deeper rest. Elrond raised Frodo’s nightshirt up to his waist, then placed a thick cloth under his leg.

The four hobbits’ eyes widened as Elrond pulled a thin, sharp knife from his instrument tray and poised it over Frodo’s leg. Pippin swallowed loudly, but did not move. Merry sought his hand out and Pippin grasped it tightly.

The Elven healer looked at them. "I’ll need some assistance in keeping him still," he said, knowing if they had something to do it may ease their distress some.

The hobbits sprang forward as one. Sam positioned himself at his master’s head and began to stroke his curls and speak softly to him in a soothing tone that betrayed none of the fears churning in him, wishing solely to be a comforting presence in the coming trail for the one who was so dear to him. Bilbo took one of his nephew’s hands and ran his thumb along it for the same reason. Pippin took hold of his cousin’s wounded leg with both hands and Merry took the other.

Elrond looked at him gravely. "Hold him tight, Master Peregrin," he instructed. "His leg will jerk when the knife cuts him and I don’t want him injured further."

Pippin tightened his hold on Frodo’s leg until his knuckles were white. He blinked away tears.

Elrond poured a small amount of a brown liquid which bubbled and hissed as it came in contact with the wound. "It will help deaden the pain," the Elf lord explained to the frightened hobbits. They nodded wordlessly.

A few moments later, Elrond made his first incision. Frodo moaned and tossed his head. He writhed, trying to move his leg, but Pippin kept a firm grip on it as he bit his lip hard enough to bleed. Tears tracked down the cheeks of all four hobbits a the Elf healer traced the knife down the injury from thigh to knee, re-opening the wound. Blood and black poison spilled from the site, soaking the cloth underneath and still Pippin gripped ever harder. Frodo groaned loudly, nearly waking. Sam increased his tender stroking, reaching his beloved master’s forehead and cheeks as well. He began to sing softly another one of Frodo’s favorite lullabies from childhood.

"Sleep now, my dear one, and know that I love you;.

Lay down all sorrow and care.

Sleep now, my dear one, for I will protect you;

Your every burden I will share.

Sleep now, my dear one, for I’ll never leave you;

I’ll stay by your side till the end.

Sleep now, my dear one, for as long as I live I will ever be near you;

To comfort, to care and defend.

Sleep now, my dear one, do not fear;

While I am with you, there’s nothing that can harm you.

Sleep now, my love, for I am with you;

And when you wake I will be here."

The young gardener hoped against hope Frodo could not sense how much his hands and voice shook or the tears that fell onto his cheeks. Bilbo tightened his grip around Frodo’s hand and felt heartened by his nephew’s weak response.

When Elrond had the entire wound open, he wrapped the knife he had used in a thick cloth and laid it aside. Arwen came in then to remove it for burning. She gave a long look at Frodo, brushed his brow lightly with her hand and a kiss. "Stay here with us, mellon nin,"she whispered. Frodo calmed at her touch and the four hobbits and her father looked at her gratefully. She smiled at them and then stepped back to allow the surgery to continue.

Elrond probed the wound as gently as he could, but Frodo still writhed under the treatment, nearly crying out as Elven fingers sought the shard that lay buried within. Pippin bit his lip and held on even harder until his fingers began to cramp.

Once Elrond brought forth the broken tip, Arwen stepped forth once more and held out the cloth for her father to drop the shard in. He then poured a green, cleansing solution liberally on the wound.The liquid frothed and hissed as it entered the wound, then settled down, staining Frodo’s leg and the cloth underneath. This time Frodo did cry out and struggled all the harder to escape the source of the pain, but still he could not. Sam wiped away his master’s tears and his own that continued to fall onto Frodo’s cheeks.

The stricken hobbit opened his eyes for a moment and saw Arwen standing at his head, at Sam’s side. The light that streamed from her dazzled him, reached out to envelope him, soothe him and carry him back to a place without pain. He closed his eyes again, carrying her light and voice and that of Sam with him.

"Do not fear, little ones," Arwen said softly as she looked into the hobbits’ frightened faces. "All this will help clear the infection and speed healing."

She reached out once more as Elrond bound the wound in a clean cloth and gave her the stained one. She then left to burn all that had been used.

"You may let go now, Master Peregrin," the Elf lord said. "I commend you for a job well done."

Pippin beamed through his tears and Merry patted him on the back.

The next liquid Elrond brought forth was a clear blue which he poured out into a cup and handed to Sam. "He’ll need to drink this, as much as possible."

Sam and Merry carefully propped Frodo up into a sitting position. Pippin quickly scooted forward to adjust the pillows to better support his cousin’s back. Sam then brought the cup to his master’s lips while Bilbo stroked Frodo’s throat to stimulate swallowing.

"You need to get this down you, dear," Sam said. "It looks like blue sky on a summer day and it’ll be just as good for you, so down you go."

He tipped the liquid into Frodo’s slack mouth, then closed the jaw and tipped his friend’s head back gently, careful not to let the liquid choke. Frodo coughed weakly and turned his head away when Sam tried to get him to drink more, but the gardener would not be denied.

"You’ve got to finish it, my dear. I know it tastes awful, but it’ll make you feel so much better. Come on, take another sip for your Sam."

He tipped in a little more. A bit dribbled down his chin as Frodo tried to refuse it. Pippin wiped at it and made a terrible face as he tasted it. Bilbo smiled and continued stroking his nephew’s throat until Frodo’s swallowing reflex forced the liquid down his throat.

"That’s it, dear," Sam encouraged. "You are doing so well. Just a little bit more and we’ll be all done."

He tipped the last bit in, but Frodo began to choke on it, coughing most of it out again onto his nightshirt. Sam pulled him up a little further and lightly patted his back until the coughing eased and Frodo slumped back against his pillows, exhausted by his entire ordeal. Sam wiped at his mouth and he and Merry helped their injured friend into a clean nightshirt, then back down into a sleeping position.

Merry brushed at his curls. "Just rest now, dearest," he murmured. "Get back your strength."

Pippin kissed Frodo’s brow. "You’re going to be all right, cousin," he assured.

* * *

Sam was startled awake or thought he was when Frodo let out a unearthly groan. The young gardener was even more frightened when he saw standing around his master, Elrond, Aragorn, Gandalf and Bilbo, all with drawn swords. The four others didn’t seem to notice that Sam had awakened. They remained staring fixedly at Frodo who moaned and writhed in torment, looking as pale as death.

"What’s wrong with my master?" Sam cried out. "I thought you said he’d be getting better. What are you doing with those swords?"

Only Bilbo seemed to hear him. "It was too late, my boy. It’s almost too late."

"Too late for what?"

The four of them approached with their swords and raised them above Frodo, point down. Bilbo’s trembled. Tears streamed from his eyes.

"What are you doing?!" Sam screamed.

Gandalf turned now to Sam. "Elrond was not fast enough," he said. "There was a piece still left inside."

"But he got them all out! I saw them!"

"Not all. And now it’s too late to get it. Frodo is already becoming a wraith. If he is allowed to continue, then he will join the Nazgul and bring the Ring to Sauron. We can’t let that happen."

Frodo woke and looked up wide eyed at the swords pointed down at him. He had heard Gandalf’s words and looked now with frightened, pleading eyes to Sam who tried to reach his master, but was prevented.

"Hold on, Frodo, hold on!" he cried, panicked he couldn’t do more.

The wizard turned back to Elrond and Aragorn whose gaze remained solidly fixed on Frodo. The hobbit took a shuddering breath. The Elf stood one word tersely that Sam did not understand and then the four swords began their downward thrust. Frodo’s eyes did not leave Sam’s.

"NO!" Sam screamed. "He’s still alive! You can’t kill him!"

He tried again to rush to his master’s side, but was again prevented. Bilbo looked at him sadly. "You have to let him go, Sam. We all do."

Sam began sobbing wildly. "NO, NO, NO!!!" Horrified, he watched the swords thrust home, all of them into Frodo’s small heart. The wounded hobbit’s body shuddered, a last half-taken breath was expelled softly and then all was still. Blood from the swords and the wounds spilled onto and out of his pale chest. All watched to see if it had been in time to save Frodo from becoming a wraith.

Sam couldn’t even see from all his tears, then he perceived a faint glow around his friend’s body and watched dumfounded as Frodo’s spirit rose, the Ring shining around his neck. He looked once, sadly, at Sam. Sam rushed to hold him, but caught nothing, then Frodo was gone and Sam and everyone else knew where to.

"Too late," the four said together. "We were too late."

"You murdered him!" Sam screamed. "For what? For what?!"

"No! No! No....no...." he cried, sobbing harder than he ever had in his life. A endless scream repeated over and over again in his mind. He felt his own heart had been torn out and wished it had stopped at the moment his master’s had. He was genuinely surprised it hadn’t.

A/N: Sam’s lullaby is another wonderful creation of Queen Galadriel’s, with a little alteration of my own with her permission.