Chapter 25: The Forbidden Pool

Dawn came an hour later. Frodo was so exhausted he was nearly weaving on his feet. Sam stayed close to his side and caught him more than once when he stumbled. After the second time, he held onto his master’s arm.

“Just a little farther, dear,” he kept saying. “Just a little farther.”

They stopped at midday and again near evening. At the second time, Faramir turned to Frodo. “The camp is not much farther,” he said. “I trust you, but not the Ring. I have to ask that you be bound as before.”

Frodo nodded. “I understand.”

“All of you will be bound,” Faramir said, pointedly looking up at Smeagol who looked fearfully up at his master.

Frodo looked down at him. “It’s all right, Smeagol. Take Master’s hand.”

They were bound and led into the camp. As soon as their blinds were removed, Smeagol let go of Frodo’s hand and nearly raced off.

“Stay here, Smeagol,” Frodo called and the creature turned to look at him. “Stay with Master. There are places here that are not safe for you.”

Smeagol looked like he was very tempted not to obey. “But we ares hungry!”

“They will bring us some food,” Frodo assured and looked at Faramir who nodded.

“We can’t eats your food. Please lets us go to finds some fish.”

“No, Smeagol,” Frodo said firmly. “Stay here with Master. No one is allowed to go into the pool. Remember what happened last time?”

“But we are famished!”

“Something will be brought. Please, Smeagol, you must stay here.”

Frodo held out his hand and Smeagol reluctantly came back to his master’s side. “Good Smeagol,” the Ring-bearer praised.

Faramir left and gave instruction that food be brought. When a Ranger returned with hot stew and bread, Frodo and Sam accepted it with thanks, but Smeagol wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“He can’t eat anything cooked,” Frodo explained to the man. “Do you have anything raw?”

The Ranger looked at the creature with barely controlled revulsion. “Nothing that wouldn’t make him sick.”

“Then we’lls be sick!” Smeagol cried. “We must eats!”

The man shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll ask the captain.”

“Please,” Frodo said. “Thank you.”

Sam and Frodo sat down to their meal, the former eating energetically, the latter little.

“You’ve got to eat, dear,” Sam said.

“I know, Sam,” he said softly and did so slowly, keeping an eye out for Faramir or his man to return.

It was Faramir who came. “I understand that our food is not good enough for one of our guests.”

“No!” Smeagol said. “We likes it raw and wriggling!”

Faramir looked at him with barely concealed disgust, though his voice was as polite as ever. “I see. In that case, I’m afraid we have nothing for you.”

“You haves the fish!”

“That pool is forbidden. You would be killed if you entered it.”

Smeagol laid out and arched his back as if in great pain. “We don’ts care! We must eats! Let us go!”

Frodo laid a hand on the creature. “No, Smeagol, you must stay here with Master. If there is nothing for you tonight, then tomorrow when we leave, you can find something on the way.” He looked up at Faramir for confirmation. The man nodded and then walked away.

“I’m sorry, Smeagol,” Frodo said. “Are you sure you can’t any of this? It’s not like the bread you had before.”

Smeagol shook his head. “We must starve,” he said miserably and swooned dramatically with a great, long-suffering sigh. Sam almost smiled at the creature’s antics, but restrained himself as his master was genuinely concerned and he didn’t wish to offend him.

Frodo and Sam finished the rest of their meal in silence, Frodo a bit guiltily, then they laid down for rest, wrapping themselves in blankets and using their cloaks as pillows.

“Stay here, Smeagol,” Frodo admonished before closing his eyes. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay with Master.”

Smeagol nodded, but looked like an animal ready to spring. Sam stayed awake for a little longer, making sure his master was asleep first. Exhaustion took Frodo quickly and Sam hoped it would be a restorative sleep, but it seemed that more heavily burdened his master become, the less of a help and escape rest became.

Sam eyed Smeagol who stared defiantly back. “Don’t go anywhere, Slinker,” he said. “And if you do, don’t blame Mr. Frodo. It’ll be your own fault if you get into any trouble.”

Smeagol adopted a more obedient pose. “That’s better,” Sam said and closed his eyes.

He didn’t wake until one of Farmir’s men shook him near dawn. He was not surprised to see that Smeagol was gone. “Typical,” he muttered. He looked down at Frodo who was sleeping still, his features still strained, but more peaceful than the night before. Sam wished his master could sleep long enough to bring back that light that had shone from him before the Ring, at Rivendell, that night on the trail - days ago? weeks? It seemed forever and every day, a little less of that light shone, until Sam was afraid it would disappear altogether, then Frodo would rally and some of it would return, only to dim again. Sam thought again that the only way it would shine again was to continue on their way and accomplish their mission. He leaned over and shook his master’s shoulder.

“Time to get moving again, dear,” he said.

Frodo woke bleary-eyed and the full weight of his burden came down on him again. He didn’t feel much more rested than he had the night before. He looked around, slightly disoriented, then, “Where’s Smeagol?” he asked, suddenly more awake and afraid.

“He’s gone to the pool,” Faramir said, coming up to them. “My men are there now.”

“Knew it,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Frodo threw aside his blanket and stood. “Don’t hurt him!” he cried and ran to the pool, Sam and Faramir only a short distance behind.

When Frodo reached the water, he looked around fearfully for the men he knew were hidden at various points around the pool, their arrows notched and pointed at the creature splashing around.

“Smeagol!” Frodo cried.

The creature looked up and help up a fish. “See, Master, fish!” he crowed happily.

“Smeagol, you shouldn’t be in there! You have to get out!”

When Smeagol ignored his master’s desperate plea and continued his cavorting, Frodo looked at Faramir, wordlessly begging him.

“He’s broken our rules twice now,” Faramir said, refusing to be moved. “Why should I spare him again?”

Frodo stared at the creature who was now singing to himself between bites. “I have to save him,” the hobbit said softly.

Faramir looked at him strangely. “Have to?”

“So I can hope that I can be saved,” Frodo said, still staring. Then he looked up at Faramir. “Please.”

Faramir looked at the pleading in Frodo’s eyes for a long time before he turned away for a moment and signaled to his men to put down their arrows. He then looked back at Frodo. “Tell him to come to you and that no harm will come to him. But if he delays, I will order my men to fire.”

Frodo fearfully noted that though Faramir’s men had indeed lowered their weapons, their arrows were still notched and could be launched at a moment’s notice. “Thank you,” he said and Faramir nodded.

“Come, Smeagol,” Frodo called, trying to keep his voice calm. “You must come to Master. Right now, Smeagol.”

The former hobbit looked up suspiciously, one half-eaten fish in one fist, another whole one in his other. “No, Master,” he said with a shake of his head. “Smeagol remembers last time. Smeagol will be hurt.”

“No, Smeagol,” Frodo said, fear edging into his voice. “Captain Faramir says you will not be, but only if you came out right now. Right now, Smeagol. Come to Master. We must leave.”

Smeagol looked distrustfully at Faramir who was growing impatient and half-raised his arm to signal his men.

Frodo forcefully pulled it down. “No!” he cried and Faramir looked at him surprised, but didn’t make a further move to signal again.

“Smeagol, you must come now!” Frodo appealed, panic full in his voice now. “Come to Master. You won’t be hurt if you come right now.”

Smeagol looked at his master and cautiously began moving forward.

“Tell him he can only have the one fish he’s already started to eat,” Faramir said.

The hobbit looked up at the Ranger, anguish plain on his features. “But that’s not enough for him!” he said. “He can’t eat our food. Raw food is all he can tolerate.”

Faramir’s face was stony. “That fish is already one too many for him. They are not for his use.”

Frodo turned back to his guide. “Smeagol, put back that second fish. Keep just the one you’ve eating.”

“But, Master, we ares so hungry.”

“I know, Smeagol, I know, but you must put back the other fish. You are already getting a special privilege by being allowed one of them. You can get something else on the way.”

Smeagol pouted, then threw back the uneaten fish, clamped the other firmly in his jaws and moved slowly upward toward his master.

“I will wait for you inside,” Faramir said to Frodo when he was satisfied that the crisis was over and turned away, nodding to Sam who stood behind.

“You will be saved, dear, even if he isn’t,” the gardener said softly.

“I don’t know, Sam,” Frodo said, his eyes fixed on Smeagol. “I really don’t. It’s so much harder this time.”

“You will. I will make sure of it.”

Smeagol reached them then and Frodo put his around the creature’s shoulder. “Good Smeagol,” he said. Sam frowned as they moved away.

They left the camp two hours later and started back on their way.