IN THE MIND’S EYE

Chapter 7: The Plan

'You may escape from Bree, and be allowed to go forward while the Sun is up; but you won't go far. They will come on you in the wild, in some dark place where there is no help. Do you wish them to find you? They are terrible!'

The hobbits looked at him, and saw with surprise that his face was drawn as if with pain, and his hands clenched the arms of his chair. The room was very quiet and still, and the light seemed to have grown dim. For a while he sat with unseeing eyes as if walking in distant memory or listening to sounds in the Night far away.

'There!' he cried after a moment, drawing his hand across his brow. 'Perhaps I know more about these pursuers than you do. You fear them, but you do not fear them enough, yet.'

‘Strider’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Aragorn grew aware of a gentle hand on his brow, and a presence that always stirred in him love, hope, and devotion. He smiled and opened his eyes.

“Remain still,” Arwen said. She was sitting on the bed beside him.

“What happened?” Aragorn asked, struggling to remember.

“In a moment,” Arwen said. “How do you feel?”

“Somewhat sore.” Aragorn felt his chest, which was bare.

“I was told that you were outside speaking with the hobbits, and were suddenly unable to breathe.”

“Yes,” Aragorn said. “And then there was pain unlike anything I had felt before.” He looked around. He was in his own room, and he heard night-birds singing outside the open window. The room was lit only by two softly-glowing lamps. “What time is it?”

“The midnight hour has long passed.” Arwen took his hand. “Why did you not tell me that you were attacked at the River?” As he began to protest, she shook her head. “Father told me that you were felled by the words of one of the wraiths.”

“It lasted but a moment,” Aragorn said with a sigh. “I barely remember it. What has that to do with what happened to me today?”

“This is not your first encounter with one of the deathless ones,” Arwen reminded him, and Aragorn nodded. “You may be more susceptible to the Black Breath because of your earlier experience. You no longer feel the sharp pain? You are breathing easily again?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said with relief, taking several deep breaths. “I am sorry you were frightened.”

“I felt your distress,” Arwen murmured, resting her cheek on his for a moment. “You were taken to the healing rooms... where I found you surrounded by distraught hobbits.” She kissed his brow. “I must tell Father you are awake; if you require anything, Pippin will get it for you.”

“Pippin?”

“Really, Strider,” came a sleepy voice. “We appreciated the tour of Rivendell, but we saw quite enough of the healing rooms when Frodo was ill. We hoped not to spend time in them again.”

Aragorn’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light, and now he saw that the small divan near the bed was inhabited by two hobbits – Pippin, who was sitting up and smiling at him, and Merry, who lay under a blanket and appeared to be sound asleep.  

“Father deems you will recover more comfortably here in your own room,” Arwen said. “You are not to get up until he gives you leave. It will do you much good to sleep, and heal more fully.”

Aragorn recognized that Arwen’s voice was subtly modulating into the smooth, melodious tones of a healer. For a reason he could not have explained, he felt compelled to resist the lassitude that began settling over him like a warm bath.

“Do not fight me, Estel,” Arwen whispered. She caught and held Aragorn’s gaze. “Even a man such as you would not remain unscathed from such fearsome encounters. You must allow yourself time to recover.” She began to sing softly.

Apparently the grey wizard has not shared his discovery of my presence with this Elf woman, and most likely with no one else. Doubtless he is as arrogant as the one inhabiting the tower Orthanc; he will never admit that his spells are powerless against those crafted by the Master.

The dark presence within Aragorn’s mind was enraged to feel the Man’s consciousness begin to waver once again. It had waited long enough for the mortal to wake; it needed him alert so that it could continue gathering information. But as it tried to take control, it felt the Elf woman’s power build and the Man’s focus lock to hers.

So be it; I will permit this, else they may take measures to keep the Man constrained without the freedom to come and go. There is still time, much time.

Arwen was pleased to sense her beloved relaxing his guard, his eyes meeting hers in trust and love before closing in a light sleep. After a moment, she rose to her feet and saw that Pippin had also succumbed to her song. She crossed to where the young hobbit lay slumped across his cousin, and looked down at them fondly.  The four hobbits had insisted on taking turns staying with Aragorn, which warmed her heart.  She shook Pippin gently awake.

“Sorry, my Lady,” Pippin gasped. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It was not your fault, Pippin,” Arwen said softly. “If you would, please remain a short time longer; I will send someone to relieve you.”

“Strider will be safe with me,” Pippin said firmly, and Arwen gave him a smile that seemed to light the room with a golden radiance.

She left, and Pippin marveled at the sweet fragrance that marked her passing. He yawned and stretched, checked to see that Merry was still warmly covered, then walked over to the window, where he stood enjoying the cool, autumn air and the glittering stars. After a short time, he heard a rustle at the door, and turned to see Gandalf.

“I will watch over him for a bit, my lad,” Gandalf said. “You and Merry may go to your rest.”

“Will Strider be all right?” Pippin asked anxiously.  “He missed supper, and now he’s asleep again.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep, then bring him a nice breakfast?” Gandalf asked, understanding the hobbit’s distress.

“That will be splendid,” Pippin said, brightening.  He shook Merry awake.  “But Gandalf, you didn’t answer my—”

“Go now,” Gandalf said softly.

“Hmmph.  Come on, Merry.” 

Pippin led his drowsy cousin back to their rooms.

Gandalf settled into a chair next to Aragorn’s bed. Now that he had briefly touched the presence clinging to his friend’s mind like a parasite, he could easily discern its shadowed aura without again risking contact. The entity’s imprint seemed at the moment less sharp than before.

Perhaps it drifts, unfocused, when Aragorn is asleep, Gandalf mused. I can withdraw this enspelled awareness by force, but at what cost? It is so deeply entrenched, I have no doubt that it will rip Aragorn’s mind apart even as it yields to me. But if the Dark Lord called it forth... if it was convinced that a different host would better serve His mission...

Gandalf felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Erestor beside him, gazing down at Aragorn with tender concern. With a start, Gandalf realized that he had been sitting and thinking for several hours, and the room had begun to brighten with the rising of the sun.

My plan puts Aragorn at risk, and Frodo in great danger as well. Will it even be possible? This will test me as never before.

“My dear friend,” Gandalf murmured, patting Aragorn's limp hand. Yielding the chair to Erestor, he strode away, still deep in thought.

I will have only one chance at this.

*~*~*~*~

“You want to do what?” Glorfindel asked in astonishment.

Elrond tapped a long finger on the arm of his chair. “Gandalf,” he said with a frown, “are you certain there is no other course?”

Breakfast was done, and the library was once again shut and guarded. Elrond, Gandalf, Glorfindel, and Frodo sat in a close circle. As before, Sam chose to stand protectively next to Frodo. His face was wrinkled in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” he said, trying to work out what Gandalf had told them. “You’re going to somehow turn yourself into the Dark Lord, and trick that… that thing into leaving Strider?”

“Not precisely,” Gandalf said. “Do you recall that I said only the creator of this spell – or the Dark Lord himself – can coax this fragment of consciousness out of Aragorn without harming him?”

Sam and Frodo both nodded.

“I will not become Sauron, but the entity will hopefully believe that I am He.” Gandalf looked around the group. “Something I sensed when I touched the dark entity’s awareness alerted me to its weakness: it gloated, You are not my Master. I believe I can assume a glamour, perceived only by this entity in its own thoughts, which will fool it into believing that the Dark Lord is making contact from Mordor. I will drain it of its information, as Sauron would, and draw it forth.  If I am successful, the entity will leave Aragorn’s mind without damaging it.”

Glorfindel leaned closer. “Can you explain what you will do, Gandalf?”

Gandalf grew thoughtful. “I learned much about the Dark Lord when we routed him from Dol Guldur. He has taken the guise of an Eye, ringed with flame. Sauron and I…” He paused. His true nature, and that of the being known as Sauron -- both of the Maiar -- need not be revealed. “We are not entirely unalike, and I have spent many long years understanding the nature of fire. I believe I can fool this entity into believing that I am its Master.”

“Gandalf,” Elrond said slowly, “forgive me, but I see several flaws in this plan. For one, the entity sees through Aragorn’s eyes – whatever else it senses in thought, it will see that it is you standing before him.”

Gandalf nodded. “That is why Aragorn’s eyes must be closed when I attempt this. He must be blindfolded, asleep, or… ideally, unconscious. That is when the entity is the least alert, and will know only what it senses through its own powers. Elrond, do you have a sedating potion that works quickly? So quickly, the person taking it will not be aware that he has been drugged before losing consciousness? Our foe must suspect nothing.”

Elrond nodded slowly, but still looked troubled.

“Speak,” Gandalf encouraged. “That is why we are meeting thus.”

“Even if you are able draw out the entity without harming Aragorn… What then?” Elrond asked. “It will be loose in Rivendell, to inhabit who knows which other mind!”

"I have thought on this, as well," Gandalf said. "If I can convince the entity that I am its Master, it will most easily allow itself to be withdrawn if given a new purpose. What better than to be embedded into a new host… someone whose mind Sauron would eagerly wish to probe, and whose movements could be controlled?" His gaze fell upon Frodo.

“What?” Sam yelped. “That evil thing would be zooming around, and encouraged to aim for Mr. Frodo?”

“Fear not, Sam. In the split second it is free of Aragorn, it will be destroyed.”

“But what if it takes less than a split second for it to hurt Mr. Frodo?” Sam persisted. “I won’t have it.”

“I can think of nothing else,” Gandalf admitted. “If the entity cannot be drawn from Aragorn’s mind, we will have no choice but to imprison him here -- at least until the Ring is destroyed. There can be no risk of his capture by the Dark Lord’s minions, his mind emptied of the knowledge that the entity has gained.”

Elrond sighed. “If you feel this has a chance of success, we must try it.”

“The person who administers the potion to Aragorn must be one of us,” Glorfindel said.

“I will do it,” Elrond said. He shook his head. “I hope you know what you are about, Gandalf. This path seems fraught with peril for Aragorn, for Frodo… for all of us.”

Frodo looked up at the wizard. “When will you try this?” he asked.

“Frodo,” Gandalf said, “are you willing to stand with me?”

“I am,” Frodo said, his voice calm and certain. “I trust you.” Sam looked unhappy, but said nothing.

“Where is Aragorn now?” Elrond asked.

“Still in his room,” Glorfindel responded. “He waits -- rather impatiently, I might add -- for you to give him leave to return to his duties. Bilbo and the young hobbits took him breakfast just a short time ago.”

Elrond got to his feet, thinking rapidly about the herbs he needed to combine. “I will let you know when I am ready. I must also find Arwen, and share with her what has happened… and what Gandalf is planning.”

“The fewer people who are aware of this, the better,” Glorfindel argued.

“She has the right to know,” Elrond insisted. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if in pain. “If things should go ill, it is better that she be prepared... for whatever we would be forced to do next.”

** TBC **