Chapter 7: Nightmares

The cool shadow of night descended upon Minas Tirith, and all inside the Guest House in the Sixth Circle saw it as a comfort and welcomed the time for rest; all, that is, except one Hobbit. Frodo lay awake in the great bed, listening to Sam's deep breathing from the other side of the room. He couldn't sleep; he didn't want to sleep. So, after a brief debate between his mind and his exhausted body, he got out of bed and stole silently to the library. He lit a very small candle and, as quietly as he could, retrieved a book yet unexplored and returned to his room. He knew that Legolas did not sleep, but rested as he walked under the stars, as was his fashion. The library could be seen from the garden, and Frodo feared that if he stayed there, Legolas might see his light, and then he'd have to explain himself. That was the last thing he wanted. So, in the large room he and Sam shared, he propped his back against the wall in a secluded corner and read the book by firelight. The book was somewhat dull, and his body was extremely tired. Try as he might, he soon drifted off into a deep slumber.

Then came the plaguing dreams. Frodo found himself on Mount Doom just after he had claimed the Ring. But instead of Gollum biting off the Evil thing and his finger, Frodo had a sword, and, as if an outside force moved his hands, he slew Gollum, the very creature he had once wished to save. He rushed outside to find himself on a great plane, where all his friends and those he had met that were good and dear to him were lined up in shackles and chains. He heard the terrible voice of the Enemy in his mind, "Good, my faithful servant. Now, slay them all!".

"NOOOO!!!" Frodo cried in desperation and shame. But the force that worked his sword to slay Gollum worked on every one of his friends. Tom Bombadil and Butterbur, several Hobbits and Elves, one after another they fell before him. Legolas and Gimli, and even Boromir were slain. But the last seven hurt him most. Aragorn said, "If by life or death I could have saved you, I would have, Frodo!" and then his sword ended the life and wonderfully familiar voice.

"My dear boy...." was all Gandalf could say. His eyes looked so hurt and broken. ‘We trusted you, Frodo. Look what has happened! I was wrong to let you take the Ring.’ Frodo read this in his dear friend’s eyes, but the Dark Will slew the wizard.

Then was Halmir, poor Halmir, whom Frodo had held so dear. The lad's eyes spoke of the hurt and accusation in his heart; there was fear as well, fear too well known by Frodo. But a will greater than his ended the precious young life.

Merry and Pip were next. His sweet, dear cousins could only say, "Frodo! Cousin Frodo, please!", but the Will would not be moved.

Bilbo cried, "Frodo lad! Don't...."and his uncle who had taken him in and treated him as a son was put to death without mercy.

The last was the worst of all. Sam looked at his master with those soft brown eyes that had unfailingly shone with love so many times. Even now, no betrayal, anger, or hate could Frodo see-only love. Sam, dear Sam, stood before him, sad and heartbroken, but loving and loyal nonetheless. In a broken voice he said, "I have always loved you, and I will always love you. No matter what you do to me, I love you still, me dear. Yes, I still love you. Always remember that." And then Frodo's hand went against his heart and slew the one who loved him more than life.

He was so utterly horrified that he wished nothing more than to plunge the sword into his own heart and end his misery. But the Enemy would not permit it, no matter how the Hobbit tried. So, in utter despair, far worse than he had ever known, Frodo sank down to his knees and wept, crying and sobbing and beating the ground with his small fist yelling, "Nooo! No, no, no! Why, why?" No other words could he speak, so great was the terror, shame, grief and utter despair in his heart.

As if coming to him from very far away, he heard familiar voices. "Frodo, me dear, please wake up. It's just a dream." That had to be Sam. But Sam was dead. If he wanted to, he could look over and see his friend’s body.

"Cousin Frodo! This had better be only a dream about you stealing my supper and feeling guilty!" Masked beneath Pippins' teasing words was a strong undercurrent of worry.

"Come on, Frodo, for me. Wake up, will you? It's only a nightmare, right? You used to comfort me when I had nightmares." Merry. Dear Merry.

There was Legolas's voice, murmuring comforts in Sindarin that only his heart seemed to understand. But there was another voice, or presence, shedding silent tears and holding his hand. How could this be possible? He had just killed all those dear to him. He would never forget.....slowly, he opened his eyes

He was surprised to see the circle of concerned faces looking at him instead of the carnage of those same faces. His mind slowly became aware that he was lying on the floor, his fists clenched. He was hot and sweating. His head was in Gandalf's lap, a placating hand on his shoulder. He read the question in his eyes: "You didn't' tell me about nightmares. You've been having them all along, haven't' you? Why couldn't I see?"

His eyes left the Maia’s piercing gaze and fell on all the other's faces. Merry and Pippin knelt beside him, their faces tight with anxiety, and Sam was looking compassionately at him, one strong arm about his shaking shoulders. Legolas and Gimli were also present, looking at him with tender concern. Halmir was gingerly holding his right hand, silent tears streaming down his face. "It was a terrible dream, wasn't it?" he whispered.

Frodo only nodded. He didn't trust his voice. So many emotions swirled in his heart, he knew his voice would sound choked and high. He drew a deep shuddering breath, resolving in his stubborn Baggins mind that he would not tell a soul about his terrible dream. He could not burden his friends with it.

"Oh, Frodo, mell min, what terrible thing..." Legolas's voice broke through his thoughts.

"No!" he said immediately. "I mean...I...I'd rather not talk about it, please..."

Gandalf bent to peer more closely into the face of his small friend and nodded with a gentle, sympathetic smile. "Not now, at least. You are weary."

"Are you all right, Frodo?" Pippin piped up.

Merry elbowed him in the ribs. "Honestly, Pip!" he hissed, trying to keep it too low for his cousin to hear. "Does he look all right?"

"It's all right now," Gandalf said in answer to Merry’s very correct assessment . "Come now. We are all weary, and bed is the best cure for that." Gandalf wished he could lift Frodo right up off the cold floor without damaging his dignity, but he knew well enough that Frodo’s pride was already very much damaged. Instead, he stood and took Frodo’s hands to help him to his feet.

Immediately he was flanked by Sam and his cousins. "You've given us quite the turn, Frodo dear." Merry tried to speak lightly, but there was worry in his voice.

With a cousin clinging to each hand and Sam close behind, Frodo went shakily back to the bed and scrambled up onto it, turning his face into the downy pillows to shut out the visions that still played cruelly before his eyes. His head pounded and he felt like weeping or screaming or maybe both. The dream was true - or at least, he knew his soul was lost with the Ring.

Then he felt someone gently turning his head, and a cool, damp cloth covered his still-wet eyes. When it was removed, he looked up into Halmir's sympathetic face. The lad smiled tremulously. "You're not the only one," he said. "I once woke screaming, just as you did this night, to find the king, Miriel, the Warden and Merry hovering over me. I'd fallen from the bed. It was rather humiliating."

Frodo tried to return the smile without success, and Halmir took his hand, gently pressing it as he whispered, "It will be all right. It was just a dream. It didn't really happen, whatever it was. And if part of it did happen, it's over now. There is always hope." Sam smiled at the lad’s perceptiveness.

Frodo did smile then, if only faintly, and returned the pressure of the boy's hand. "Thank you, Halmir," he said softly.

Halmir smiled. "Oh! Here comes Lord Gandalf." And so saying, he threw himself down at the foot of the bed.

Gandalf set the small kettle on the bedside table and removed its cover, and the fresh, pungent aroma of athelas filled the room, calming all who breathed it. The next moment Sam was scrambling up onto the bed, a steaming teacup in his hand. "Drink up now, master," he said, pressing the cup into Frodo's hand and then grabbing for extra pillows.

"What is it?" asked Frodo, not so shaken that he was not suspicious.

"Just chamomile, with lots of honey, just how you like it. Come now, drink up before it gets cold."

Frodo obediently drank the warm, soothing tea, and when the cup was empty, Pippin's hand reached out to take it from him. Frodo’s eyelids began to droop again, despite all his efforts to fight sleep, and he dimly heard Legolas's voice whisper, "Come. Let us all return to our own beds. He is weary, and we can do no more."

"No, I want to stay with Frodo," Halmir protested.

"No you don’t! You’re just as tired and in need of rest as my cousin is. Off to bed with you, too." Merry answered firmly. He would not be argued with.

Then he felt Merry and Pippin lightly kiss him good-night, each whispering a soft, "I love you, Cousin. Sleep well, and no more nightmares."

He murmured a reply, and all but Sam stole softly from the room with words of blessing and love. Merry took his young charge by the hand and led him away, and as they left, they caught the faint sound of Sam's voice murmuring softly behind the closed door.

Before Legolas headed back out to the garden, he checked on all of his friends to make sure all were well. Frodo was not the only one in the house who suffered from nightmares. Merry and Pippin were fast asleep, each in his own bed. Halmir, too, was sleeping soundly. Legolas next went to check on Frodo and Sam. He found them both asleep, Sam lying with Frodo's shoulder against his back so that he would know immediately if his master was distressed again. "Bless you both. May the stars shine upon your faces," he whispered in Elvish. Then he stole out to the cool garden to walk beneath the stars, and there wept silent tears for his dear friends. He prayed to Elbereth that with the morning light, hope and joy would return to those who suffered.

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TBC....

Copyright Frodo Baggins 2006