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Quest  by cathleen

Quest

Chapter Two

  “A Battle of Wills”

 

Hobbits involved in the washing of clothes and the gathering of wood can make an entertaining display. Aragorn had discovered the merry scene below as he perched high on a boulder above the campsite, enjoying a brief respite and a draw or two of his pipe. He chuckled as he watched Sam giving out the orders and attempting to show Frodo how best to scrub clothing on a rock. The water was obviously freezing cold, and Frodo clearly had his own ideas about how best to beat clothing on a rock. Aragorn listened to the conversation, laughing quietly.

“Here, Mr Frodo,” Sam said, coming up behind Frodo with an armful of garments, “why don’t you let me do that?” Sam released his burden and quickly reached for the pair of trousers that Frodo had been turning this way and that in apparent uncertainty.

“What?” Frodo spun, his grip tightening in a protective gesture. This was the third time Sam had tried to pry away Frodo’s task.

“Your hands are turning blue.” Sam gently pulled at the trousers. “The water is so cold today!”

“I know. That’s why I’d prefer to get the washing finished as soon as possible.” Frodo pulled on the trousers but Sam did not let go.

“I can finish this. I’m used to having my hands in cold water. Why, I’ve done lots of washing, what with coming from such a large family and all, so I know how to--”

“I know that, Sam, but you must allow me to do my part. I’ve started this and I can finish the job.”

“You looked confused. I’m sorry, I was only trying to help.”

“But I’m not confused. I was simply trying to decide which end to start with.”

Sam brightened. “Why don’t you go see if there’s anything I’ve missed? You might check with Mr Pippin. He always has something grimy stuffed into the bottom of his pack.”

Frodo found himself counting slowly to ten before speaking again. “Pippin is in the woods with Merry and I’ve already gone through his things.” He tugged at the trousers again. “I’ll finish this myself. Why don’t you go look for anything we may have missed?”

“I’m fairly sure I’ve gathered all the dirty clothes.”

Frodo’s eyes widened. “Then why did you ask me to go and look?” Frodo pulled the trousers towards himself again.

“Well, because Mr Pippin always has something in his pack that he’s missed giving me. Remember the last time I was washing clothes? He waited until the last minute and then found--” Sam tugged back a little more forcefully this time and the resulting sound of ripping halted them in their tug of war. They stared at each other in dismay. Frodo heaved a sigh as Sam released the trousers.

“I can fix that as soon as they’re dry. There’s naught to fret about.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Frodo turned stiffly back to the stream and slapped the clothing down on the flat rock he had chosen.

A few minutes later Sam was back. Frodo could almost feel his friend frowning at his back. Finally, Frodo turned around. “What is it?” his unspoken ‘now’ hung in the air between them.

Sam cleared his throat. “Well, I was just noticing. . .if you do it that way you’re liable to scrub a hole clean through those breeches. You’ve got to be gentler. Here, let me help you do it the right way.” Sam was the picture of patience as he demonstrated what he meant.

Frodo stared at the rock. True, it wasn’t as smooth as some of the others, but. . . “Bilbo always did it this way. He said it was faster. And I want to finish this task as quickly as I can.”

“Well. . .” Sam stopped and stared at the rocks thoughtfully. He certainly wouldn’t want to disrespect Mr Bilbo’s way of doing things. “I reckon that’s true, and Mr Bilbo always did know just what he was doing. Why don’t you do it like he showed you then, only watch out for those sharp edges?” Sam grinned. “Then you can do it quickly and still not get any holes in your breeches!”

“Good idea.” Relieved, Frodo turned back to the rock with a roll of his eyes that Sam missed.

A little further away Merry and Pippin had formed an alliance and were busy piling sticks and limbs in the clearing, readying them to be tied into bundles.  It was unclear exactly who was in charge as they scurried about trying to outdo one another. Apparently they had decided to make a game of it and each was attempting to best the other in the race to see who could gather more wood the fastest. Aragorn laughed again as he watched Boromir. The man had stopped his work preparing a pheasant for the fire and had joined them, expressing his opinion of their antics.

Aragorn was unable to hear exactly what was being said but he guessed that something had incurred the wrath of the halflings and both grabbed a stick and began to chase Boromir around the campfire.

Not to be outdone, Boromir also retrieved a limb from the pile and turned the tables on them, running after the fleeing hobbits until they were all out of breath. The play then became a mock sword fight as the man of Gondor took on the fearless hobbits of the Shire in a fight to the death and in short order had them pleading for mercy, using a nearby tree as cover.  Boromir relieved them of their ‘weapons’ and called for surrender.

“Aha! I win this battle, Sir Peregrin and Sir Meriadoc!” Boromir crowed and bowed formally before them.

“That’s only because you have longer legs and can keep us running non-stop!” Pippin yelled as he retrieved his ‘sword’ and then flung himself upon the ground, placing it across his chest, acknowledging defeat. He closed his eyes and heaved a melodramatic sigh.  “Ah, me. Outfought by a mere man and left in disgrace to return to my kinfolk shamed, and with a broken sword!”

Merry plunked down next to him and asked, “How about two out of three?”

Boromir roared with laughter and sank to the ground between them. All three glanced up when they heard applause and a shout from above and behind them.

“That was very engaging! Are you going to have a rematch?” Aragorn called out.

“Indeed,” snorted Gandalf as he removed the pipe from his mouth and gestured around their campsite. “However, this frivolity is not getting the wood gathered, my lads! Come, let us all get busy once more.”

Pippin popped up hastily as the wizard started towards them, hand dipping into his pocket as if depositing something there. He scrambled to his feet, nudging Merry with his stick.

“Come Merry, let’s go!” Pippin trotted off into the thick stand of trees, leaving his puzzled cousin to follow at a slower pace.

Merry glanced back over his shoulder at the others and shrugged before running to catch up with Pippin.

“What was that all about?” Aragorn raised his brow in consternation.  “Since when is that young one so eager to get back to wood-gathering without a protest? He’s made it clear more than once it is not his favourite job.”

“I’m not sure.” Gandalf’s eyes followed the hobbits until they were out of sight. “Peregrin did not seem to wish me to approach him closely.” The wizard arched his eyebrow as he spoke.  “And that usually means he does not wish for me to see something he has, or that he’s feeling guilty about something he’s done, or perhaps thinking about doing. If you’ll excuse me.” Gandalf followed the hobbits into the woods.

Boromir stared after him. “Well, I for one believe that a round of playfulness is a good thing.” He shook his head. “All too soon our days shall become dark and troubled.”

“I don’t think Gandalf is concerned about them having fun. It seems to me his heart is telling him something.” Aragorn also watched after the wizard for a moment then shook himself out of his reverie. “Have you seen Legolas or Gimli?”

“No, not since they went off this morning for the second time after they brought in all of those pheasants.” Boromir tilted his head in the direction of the game. “I believe we should get back to the job of dressing those.” Aragorn nodded, joining him.

An hour later Aragorn knelt by the water to rinse his hands. He held his knife in the fast current to clean it and glanced around at the sound of someone approaching.

Sam and Frodo moved towards him, their arms laden with wet clothing and began draping the garments across the rocks closest to the fire.

“You are both turning blue. Have a seat and warm yourselves.” Aragorn gestured impatiently at the fire as he rose.

“I’m all right,” Sam protested.  “Mr Frodo, on the other hand, why his teeth are chattering!” He gently nudged his friend nearer to the campfire. “He could use a good warming up.”

Sam pushed his friend gently down on the boulder nearest the fire and turned to head back to the water. Aragorn clamped a hand on his shoulder and spun him towards the fire, pushing him down gently, yet firmly, next to Frodo in one smooth gesture.

“Sit Samwise,” he ordered.

Sam looked up in surprise. “But I’m not even cold yet.”  He made as if to rise again but was met with the same firm hand.

“I insist.  You need to warm yourself.”

Frodo smiled.  “He’s right Sam.  How can you expect me to take care of myself if you won’t take care of yourself?”

“But--”

“No buts, Sam,” Frodo said, shaking his head.

“But I--”

“Sam! You must warm yourself or else you could become ill.” Aragorn squeezed the small shoulder in understanding.

Sam settled his chin in his hand with a sigh of defeat. Frodo placed an arm around his shoulders. “There’s a good hobbit, now. We’ll dry ourselves out and then finish our work. What do you say?”

Sam merely grunted his reply.

***

Gandalf followed Pippin and Merry quietly, determined to catch them at any mischief. He was puzzled once more and even a bit disappointed to find them busy at their appointed task. Merry glanced up and saw him, freeing one arm to wave. Gandalf considered for a moment before joining them. Pippin did not shrink back this time, however his smile appeared more innocent than usual. The wizard sighed. There was no doubt about it then. Pippin was hiding something.

“Have you come to help us Gandalf?” Pippin asked.

Ah yes. The lad is trying not to reveal himself. But the harder he tries the more he gives himself away. I only need to watch and wait. And watch you closely I will, Peregrin Took, you may rest assured.

Aloud he said, “Why yes, of course I’m going to help. Remember, we need to gather as much as we may carry ourselves as well as a load for Bill.”

He smiled serenely at them, his gaze lingering on Pippin’s face. Pippin fidgeted nervously. He looked away, a hint of guilt appearing briefly and then disappearing just as quickly as he rushed to find more wood. But Gandalf had not missed the uneasy expression.

***

The Company settled in early for their last night in comfortable shelter.  Gimli was taking the first watch and he scouted the area, his axe drawn. Frodo studied the dwarf’s back as he left the encampment. He lay back and found he was having a difficult time clearing his mind of unwanted musing. Soft breathing and occasional snores told him his friends were already asleep. Frodo lay awake for a long time considering the journey up the mountain into the frozen and treacherous days he knew lay ahead of them. He fell at last into a restless slumber. Several hours passed uneventfully. The night wore on. Gimli traded his place on watch with Legolas, stopping long enough to add wood to the fire before retiring to his bedroll.

 Frodo stirred.

Fear. The fear was ripe, and growing. It delved deeper than the blackness that engulfed him, and stronger than the cold that threatened to consume him. Escape. The thought haunted him, ruled him, and directed his every moment of awareness to one thing: Flee! He had to get away from the darkness, from the whispering voices in the night. The Ring! The Ring was talking to him, speaking softly in a mysterious tongue, and yet he understood the words. The whispers were louder now, turning into a strange chant, calling his name.

On and on he ran as if through a bog, each step slowing him more, pulling him downward. He clutched the cursed Ring to his breast grasping it tighter, the desire to release it only causing him to squeeze harder. It called out his name again, the voices rising to a shrill scream; he entwined his fingers around the chain about his neck and yanked on the circle of gold, frantic to tear it away. . .

A shout of pain echoed in the night bringing the Company instantly awake.

“Frodo, you’re hurting me!” Pippin’s cries were terrified, his own hands clutched at Frodo’s as he struggled to free himself.

Frodo shook himself awake to find both hands wrapped around Pippin’s fair head, the long strands of curls taut between his fingers. He stared down at his howling cousin, dumbfounded. Merry knelt between them, and without a word attempted to carefully untangle fingers from hair, watching Frodo closely as he did so. Sam was up now, a bewildered expression on his face.

Aragorn was already at their side, one comforting arm around Frodo, the other embracing Pippin. The uproar had summoned Legolas from his point on the watch and he ran into the camp, his face registering his alarm. Legolas and Boromir tumbled from their blankets and Gimli hurried towards them; Gandalf was already rekindling the fire.

Frodo stared at his hands, horrified, and then dropped his face into them, sobbing. Pippin crawled over Aragorn and took his cousin in his arms, tears streaming down his own face as he tried to comfort him.

“It’s all right Frodo. I’m all right, and so are you. Everyone is all right!” Sobs shook Pippin as Frodo began to keen. Aragorn struggled to soothe the distraught pair.

“All is well. Be at peace, you are safe. Hush…”

Sam wiped the tears away as he watched. After a time Frodo’s breathing became easier and his anguish eased.

“I did not mean to hurt you, Pippin.” He looked around the group. “I would cut off my arm before harming any one of you!” His voice broke and he began to weep once more, shrugging off all attempts to comfort. Frodo reached for the bond on his ankle and began to loosen it.

“What are you doing?” Sam put out a hand to stop him.

“I have to go.  I will be back soon.”

“Would you like one of us to go along with you, Mr Frodo? You’re still shaky.”

“No, Sam. This is one thing I am capable of doing by myself.”  With that, Frodo rose and rushed away.

“Let me go with you!” Pippin started to rise and was yanked back by his braces, landing firmly on his backside. The wizard eyed him sternly.

“Sit down, Peregrin. Allow your cousin a moment of privacy with his thoughts, if you please.”

Pippin obeyed, huddling miserably and straining his eyes into the darkness watching for Frodo’s return.

Boromir edged forward to place one comforting arm around Pippin, and another about Merry. “Come lads. He will be all right. Go back to sleep while we still have a few hours left in the night.” 

Boromir assisted them to their bedrolls, ignoring their protests and insisting they lay back into their blankets. He was surprised with the level of feeling he was developing for these little ones. Not children, although one was not yet fully grown, but Boromir marveled at the depth of concern he had developed for them. He was reminded once again of the years he had tended to his own younger brother, who had lacked the loving tenderness of their mother for most of his life.

Legolas fondly watched the scene between Boromir and the hobbits. It was obvious the comforting extended both ways. He nodded to Aragorn. “I will take the watch now and keep an eye on Frodo as well.”

“That will not be necessary, my friend. I shall go to him. I believe he needs to empty his heart of his disturbing thoughts before he is able to sleep again. Perhaps I shall be the means for that release.”

Aragorn walked through the woods, easily locating Frodo in a small clearing not far from their camp. Aragorn knelt beside him and took the halfling into his arms, allowing him to weep for as long as he wished. 

“Aragorn. . .”

“Let it out, Frodo, and then you shall be at peace.”

“Aragorn, what if I had hurt Pippin? What if I had hurt anyone? I cannot do this!” 

“Frodo, listen to me.” Aragorn held him at arm’s length and looked into his tear stained face. “You would not. Trust me. You could not, nor did you hurt him.  Pippin is well. There is no harm done.”

“But what if I had? I could not live with that!”

“Frodo, listen to me. I do not believe it is within you to harm those you love. You must trust me. In spite of your nightmares, in spite of the Ring, you will recognise your family and your friends and will not be responsible for any harm. You are the one who is suffering the most at this time. Remember we are all here to help you. Never lose sight of that.”

They sat by the rippling water for a while longer.  Frodo was actually beginning to doze when Aragorn lifted him into his arms and started back to camp. Frodo roused and admonished him slightly, but Aragorn simply smiled and ignored the half-hearted protests. He carried him back to the others and deposited him gently into the blankets between Sam and Pippin. Aragorn rose and went to join Gandalf by the fire. He pulled out his pipe and spoke quietly to the wizard.

“He is asleep at last.”

Gandalf sighed heavily.  “It will be a long night I think. We will not sleep following that scene.”

“It was indeed disquieting.” 

They sat in silence for a time before Aragorn spoke again.

“Frodo is frightened that he will not always have control over what the Ring does to him.”

“He was chosen for a reason. We must trust in that. I do not believe he will lose control of himself. He has resisted the Ring thus far and has demonstrated great strength in carrying the burden. He will persist.”

“I agree. But he needs to believe in himself.”

The wizard nodded. “Another concern I have is that we shall soon need to journey by cover of darkness. We have been fortunate thus far, but there is no doubt in my mind that travelling at night will be the best course to take.”

Aragorn lowered his pipe and sighed. “You are quite right, of course. We head further into danger with each passing day. If Frodo wanders off in the daylight it may be worse than his night wandering. The spies of Sauron are everywhere.”

“Yes, and the disruption in sleep may add to Frodo’s difficulty, and that of his kinsmen. They are not accustomed to the adjustments the rest of our Company is familiar with. Yet, I feel that the hobbits will take on this challenge with their usual self-possession,” Gandalf chuckled.

“I agree.”

They fell silent and waited the dawn, puffing on their pipes, each lost in his own thoughts.

 





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