Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2006-01-30 08:52 am
sophinisba) wrote2006-01-30 08:52 am
Entry tags:
Not Yourself 5
I'm changing the rating on this fic to PG-13, despite the continued absence of sex and violence, mainly because of some darker stuff that comes up later on but also a little bit because of this next chapter, which is the most in-your-face with the badness of it, fear and screaming and crying. Readers who found chapter 3 disturbing or difficult to read should know that I consider this one to be a good deal worse. *shuffles feet*
Recent warm fuzzy fic with hobbits, with hobbits and men.
More of this fic:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Title: Not Yourself, Chapter 5/11
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gen AU following mostly movie-verse. Faramir takes the Ring and means to save Frodo from madness.
Beta: Thank you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
claudia603!! Readers, if you see a problem we missed, please drop me a line!
Disclaimer: Of course, of course, I don't own these characters or their setting, and I make no money by writing about them.
Warnings: Kinda dark, some off-screen violence, no happy ending. More extensive intro, summary, warnings and author's notes here.
Chapter 5, The Bed
The dream has become familiar by now, but is just as terrifying as the first time. The details vary -- characters, colors, outcomes -- but the theme is always the same. Always there are loud noises and Frodo hears nothing. Always there is fire and Frodo feels frozen. Always there is chaos and Frodo stands still in the middle of it. Always Frodo is defenseless.
A tall figure towers above him. Frodo used to dream of Boromir, naturally, and sometimes Galadriel as she appeared to him at the mirror. Sometimes, more disturbingly, a trusted friend like Gandalf or Aragorn would threaten him. Since Ithilien it is always Faramir. Faramir with his eyes cold, indifferent to Frodo's person, fixated only on the Ring, hanging on its chain around Frodo's neck. As always, Frodo screams, and he raises his hands to defend himself, or to protect the Ring; it is really the same thing.
On the journey, in the wild, Frodo would usually awake to his own screams. He would be frightened, yes, but Sam would always be there beside him, clasping Frodo's hands together, holding him, telling him he was safe. Frodo would know that Sam held his hands to keep him from touching the Ring, but there was still comfort in the contact, in the firm, loving grip. It told him that Sam would protect him from anything, including his own frenzied actions. Even though Frodo's rational mind knew the dangers ahead might be greater than anything Sam could save him from, he would quiet and calm to that touch and those soft, confident words: "You're safe, Mr. Frodo, I'm here. I won't let you go."
He is awakened now not so much by the noise as by the jerk of pressure at his wrists. In the dream, he is unable to raise his hands to offer any form of resistance. In the bed, alone, with his eyes open, Frodo recognizes his other nightmare.
Because this too is becoming familiar: the bare room, the faint light of a clouded dawn through a latticed window; the bare bed, since Frodo has kicked away the blanket in his sleep. Frodo knows there is no powerful enemy and no mysterious force keeping his hands at his sides and so keeping his body in the bed. He knows it is only the leather restraints, fastened to his wrists and to the bed the night before and every night for the last week, just after he downs the draught that sends him quickly into a deep sleep. He knows he will accomplish nothing by struggling, that the bonds will not give way but will only cut more painfully into his wrists as he strains at them. But his knowledge of the futility of it all only makes him feel more helpless and so more angry. So he keeps on fighting, keeps on screaming, and thinks of nothing but the need to get free.
It isn't very long before Sam and Pippin come into the room. Frodo knows to stop screaming even though he can't stop himself from tugging at the restraints. Sam's face is all concern as he rushes to Frodo and the bed, and Frodo could almost weep with the relief of it and the anticipation of having his hands free. He'll embrace both of them then, and thank them for rescuing him.
Sam is kneeling by the bed now, smoothing Frodo's short hair and speaking in the voice Frodo remembers he used to find soothing. "I told them it'd be better if I could sleep in here with you. But see, I'm not so far away. You just call for me and I'll come. I won't let anyone hurt you."
"My hands, Sam," they're hurting me. "I need to get my hands free." Frodo is trying to keep his voice calm but it still comes out close to a shout.
"And you will, sir, in just a little while."
"Sam, please…"
"You just relax, now, and listen to me. You don't have to fight anymore, Mr. Frodo, it's over now." Sam's voice grows more distant. "I told them about the nightmares. They were supposed to give you something different last night, so you wouldn't have any dreams. I'll talk to Olegar about it; he knows all there is to know about herbs and medicines. We'll get this taken care of."
"Not the dream, Sam," Frodo says desperately. "This, now… I need…" But Sam is still stroking his face, not really listening. Frodo jerks his head away from Sam's hand, refusing to accept this kind of comfort. His eyes land on Pippin, still standing frozen in the doorway. "Help me," Frodo pleads.
"This is wrong, Sam." Pippin finally walks over to Frodo and takes hold of one of his hands.
Frodo squeezes too hard and Pippin winces. He tries to smile at Frodo but quickly averts his eyes. Still, he tells Sam, "You can't ask him to relax when he's tied up like this. I'm undoing them."
He says so but doesn't move.
"You know they say we can't," Sam answers.
"They don't get to say what you and I can or cannot do." Pippin is fingering the buckle at Frodo's left wrist. "We're grown hobbits and we can make these decisions for ourselves." Pippin does not say that Frodo too is a grown hobbit and should not be subjected to this kind of treatment.
Frodo knows he should try to keep quiet for this. He thinks Pippin is winning and Frodo should wait out the argument calmly. Above all, he must not speak of the Ring, even if it is difficult sometimes to think of anything else. Be calm, he tells himself, be quiet, be sane. But his impatience to be free combines with his anger at being talked over like a child, or like a thing. He tugs at the leather and at Pippin's hand and hisses, "Now, cousin."
Still Pippin waits nervously. If the enemy were to attack Frodo now, he would have no way of defending himself. And the presence of Sam and Pippin means very little on this account, since Pippin is weak and Sam no longer seems to want to help him.
Sam is trying to touch Frodo's face again but still ignores his words. He speaks only to Pippin, as if Frodo cannot understand, "It's not safe, not when he's like this. Not when he's fighting us like this."
So that's why they won't help him. No one worries anymore that he might attack Faramir or his soldiers, for there is really no hope left; but they do think he would attack Sam and Pippin. A danger to himself and others, Frodo has heard the words before, but he doesn't believe them. It hurts him to know that Sam does. Frodo looks to Pippin again and waits for his response, some words on Frodo's behalf. But Pippin is silent. He looks down at Frodo with his eyes full of tears, indecision, and helplessness.
"Please." Frodo realizes as he speaks that he too is crying now. His voice is ragged from screaming and emotion. "Sam, I promise you I'm not dangerous. I never… it was only the one time. You must believe I won't try to do anything to you."
Sam looks surprised. "Of course not, Mr. Frodo. Did you think I was worried about me? It's you as could get hurt. Don't you remember why they started doing this in the first place?"
The hand at Frodo's face moves down to his neck and then slides the loose nightshirt a few inches down. Frodo feels a stinging under Sam's fingers and looks down to see red marks on his own chest. It is only now that his body stills, as his mind fights off the haze of anger combined with sedation, struggles to make sense of what he is seeing.
He raises his eyes to Sam's face. Ah, and all three of them are crying now. "You bit your nails down so close," Sam says tenderly, "you couldn't do much damage. Otherwise I think you'd've made yourself bleed. You were reaching for it in your sleep, you know. You started doing it before we came here, but since there's nothing for you to catch hold of now…"
Nothing to hold on to. Nothing. How long has it been, Frodo wonders, since any of them named the Ring aloud?
Frodo hears Sam's voice break as he goes on speaking, but he no longer registers more than fragments ("…that I could stay with you… said it was safe…"). Instead he hears the words Sam said earlier: You don't have to fight anymore. And finally understands them: It's over now.
If the enemy were to attack Frodo now, he would have no way of defending himself… But what is there left to defend? The Ring is gone, and Frodo is nothing without it. What enemy would even bother to attack him now? Why do any of them bother with him at all?
Frodo stops fighting. He stops trying to work out what is happening and why, stops hoping someone will come to his aid. He stops feeling ashamed. He releases all his tensed muscles and releases the loud sob that has been trapped in his throat. There are hands on his hands and on his face, but he doesn't know or care whose they are. He feels only emptiness. He hears but does not comprehend the voices, first trying to soothe and then growing increasingly anxious as Frodo fails to respond. And his eyes are open but he sees only bright white.
After a long while Frodo becomes aware of someone rubbing his back. He then knows that he is sitting up, held in another's embrace, sobbing into someone's shoulder. It is a relief to him to hear only one voice. And the voice does not lie to him, does not tell him that he is safe or that everything will be all right. It does not tell him to calm down or to stop weeping or to stop fighting. It only repeats two phrases over and over again: "I love you, Frodo" and "I'm sorry."
"Merry!" Frodo cries, and he hugs his cousin tightly, only then realizing that he finally has his hands free. He is sitting in the same bed, but he thinks he could get out of it if he had the strength, if he wanted to. "Merry, you've come."
"Yes, Frodo, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner." At first all Frodo wants is to stay there in Merry's arms, but then comes the desire to see Merry's face, and Frodo reluctantly loosens his grip.
Merry is not crying, and Frodo quickly dries his own eyes on his sleeve in order to see more clearly. Frodo stares and Merry gingerly touches the side of Frodo's head. "They've cut your hair," he says.
There is almost no emotion in his voice, but Frodo's shame rushes back to him at the words and at the emotions warring on Merry's face, pity and horror for Frodo mixed with seething rage for the rest of the world. But what a horror Frodo must look, in his child's nightclothes, with his bloodshot eyes and his swollen face, naked without the dark curls he'd kept long for so many years. And what a horror he must have looked when Merry first came into the room. Was that early on, he wonders, when he was writhing and begging? Or after, when he was insensible, bawling like an infant?
Frodo looks down because he can no longer hold his cousin's gaze, and he sees that the red marks on his chest are still exposed. Merry is probably seeing them and wondering. Frodo tugs the nightshirt into place and turns away. He would like to leave, or disappear altogether, but of course this is not up to him.
"Mine and Sam's," he says, somewhat surprised to realize that Sam is still in the room with them. He doesn't give much thought to where Pippin might have gone. "There were lice."
"I know." Merry is touching his hair again, perhaps not quite disgusted with him. "Sam told me last night. It's just strange getting used to, it looks so different on you."
But why are they talking about this, of all the things that are strange and wrong? Frodo catches Merry's hand and pulls it down, but finds he is able to face him again. A doubt crosses his mind. "Last night? Have you been here long?" And why didn't you come and help me before? "Pip told me you were away in Rohan with… the others." No one has given it to him as a rule, but he feels instinctively that he is not meant to utter Aragorn's name, even here among friends, or among those who were once his friends.
"I was there, but Gandalf sent for me with the message that you and Sam had been found and couldn't I come to Minas Tirith to be with you. And of course I came at once. I arrived yesterday just after dark." Merry's words are tumbling over themselves and he seems embarrassed for the first time. "And they said I wouldn't want to see you then because you'd just eaten and they gave you some tea to help you relax, but I said I had to, I had to see you and know you were alive."
"So you were here? In this room?" How can Merry stand to look at him?
"Yes." But Merry keeps looking Frodo in the eye. And Frodo wants to look anywhere else but doesn't want to disappoint Merry yet again. "But you weren't yourself. You didn't know me."
Frodo's face is hot, and he wants to be anywhere else, but he doesn't want to leave Merry. "I don't remember," he says softly, "I'm sorry."
"Nothing for you to be sorry about, sir." Frodo had forgotten about Sam's presence again. It is a relief to shift his gaze away from Merry for a moment. "It's like Mr. Merry said, you weren't yourself then."
"I'm never myself anymore, am I?"
Merry says, "None of us are quite the same as we were before, but I'll take this morning's Frodo over the one I saw last night, thank you very much."
Frodo doesn’t remember Merry's earlier visit, doesn't remember anything from the night before after beginning his supper. He shudders to think what could have been worse than the spectacle Merry has witnessed this morning. "Was I very upset?" he asks. He hates knowing there are times when he is completely out of control. "Was I screaming?"
"No, dear," Merry replies sadly, "you weren't fighting at all. That was what was so awful about it." Sam looks cross at this but says nothing. Merry lowers his voice; and, though the door is closed and the walls are thick, Frodo thinks this is wise. "You're right to struggle, Frodo, you're right to be angry. We all need to be fighting against what Faramir is trying to do."
"Mr. Merry, we talked about this already." Sam's tone seems to say that if any further discussion needs to be had on this matter, it had better not be in the lunatic's presence. For some reason Frodo doesn't fully comprehend, he smiles at both of them, hoping they will not argue any more.
"I'm so glad you've come, Merry, and the four of us can be together again." He doesn't really feel glad of anything, but he's beginning to understand that much pretending to be glad will be expected of him, if he's ever to be considered healthy and safe. And he does want to put his friends at ease. The tension between Merry and Sam is uncomfortable for him.
The door opens (without a knock) and Pippin enters, carrying a tray of food. Ioreth comes behind him and stands in the doorway. "You're safe for this once, Merry," Pippin announces. "Ioreth says she won't tell Gandalf or Faramir you acted against their orders. So it looks like you'll stay out of the dungeon for another day, at least."
Merry and Sam haven't said anything about Merry being in trouble. Frodo wonders vaguely about the details of the orders from above. Under precisely what conditions are his friends permitted to unbind his hands?
"Good to see you're feeling better, Frodo," Pippin adds cheerily. He does not seem like the same hobbit who cried at Frodo's bedside… how long ago was it?
"What about you, Pippin?" Frodo is surprised at the bitterness in Merry's voice. He's never known Merry to speak this way to their younger cousin. "Will you be informing on me when you report back to Lord Faramir for duty?"
"Now, you hold your tongue, Master Meriadoc," Ioreth intervenes. "You've caused enough trouble for one day. And Master Frodo's had enough excitement for one morning, I should think. I'll see to his breakfast. There's breakfast for the three of you in Sam's room, next door."
"Good then," says Merry, "we can bring it in here and have a meal for just the four of us. Just like old times, eh, Frodo?"
"I said I'd see to Frodo," Ioreth replies firmly. "That's my job, after all."
"Begging your pardon, mistress," says Sam, "but would it do so much harm for us to stay here with him? Maybe even just a one of us" -- there is in angry glance from Merry at this -- "so he doesn't think we've left 'im alone?"
They're talking over and about him again. Four strong wills conflicting, and Frodo's own will isn't even taken into account. No one asks him whether he'd prefer to be with Sam or with Merry, or whether he'd rather not have his breakfast (and his morning dose of tea, which no one has mentioned but which is sitting there on the tray) at all. Not that that's an option.
Frodo wants out, away from the raised voices. In truth he wants out of this room and this House altogether, though no one has said whether that will ever happen.
He sees that the door of the room, usually locked from the outside, is hanging open. He finds that no one and nothing is holding him, and he's able to stand. Hands are on him again almost immediately, and although he resents the control they all have over him, it's just as well. His knees feel weak and the dizziness is overwhelming, and he leans heavily into the arms that wrap around him now, before even realizing that they are Sam's.
"Where are you going, sir?"
"I don't know." Freedom would mean nothing anyway, as Frodo has nowhere to go, no reason to do anything but what they tell him to.
And the knowledge comes to him, simple as water from a spring or blood from a wound, that nothing he or any of them does now will make any difference at all. Frodo can kick and scream, Sam and Pippin can come and watch him, and Merry might even be as brave as to release his bonds and say words that sound true. But there it is: Frodo is still a prisoner, still a failure, still a wreck of himself.
He lets Sam help him to sit down again on the bed. When the dizziness fades Frodo pulls away from Sam, brings his legs up on the bed and shrinks toward the wall. "I don't know," he says again, though he no longer knows what question he is trying to answer. "Please leave me alone."
"There then," Ioreth says with an air of finality, "you've heard Master Frodo, young hobbits. He wants some peace and quiet. Maybe if he's feeling stronger later in the day then one of you can came back and see him. But this kind of crowding and excitement isn't what he needs. Your breakfast is waiting next door, as I said."
There is a silence and a stillness in the room for some moments. Frodo imagines trying again for the door, fighting off anyone who tries to hold him back. Finding Faramir, somehow, and not giving up until he holds the Ring again. If I tried for it now, he thinks, even Merry would be helping to hold me down while they strap me back in. Frodo holds as still as he can and avoids the other hobbits' eyes. Then Sam reaches for Frodo's hand, and when Frodo again pulls away the stillness breaks. Sam stands, and he and Pippin walk meekly to the door. Merry lingers last, and when Frodo finally looks up at him Merry speaks quickly, aware of Ioreth's disapproving glare, "I'm sorry, Frodo." He walks out and Ioreth shuts the door behind him.
next part | series tag | fic index
Recent warm fuzzy fic with hobbits, with hobbits and men.
More of this fic:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Title: Not Yourself, Chapter 5/11
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gen AU following mostly movie-verse. Faramir takes the Ring and means to save Frodo from madness.
Beta: Thank you,
claudia603!! Readers, if you see a problem we missed, please drop me a line! Disclaimer: Of course, of course, I don't own these characters or their setting, and I make no money by writing about them.
Warnings: Kinda dark, some off-screen violence, no happy ending. More extensive intro, summary, warnings and author's notes here.
Chapter 5, The Bed
The dream has become familiar by now, but is just as terrifying as the first time. The details vary -- characters, colors, outcomes -- but the theme is always the same. Always there are loud noises and Frodo hears nothing. Always there is fire and Frodo feels frozen. Always there is chaos and Frodo stands still in the middle of it. Always Frodo is defenseless.
A tall figure towers above him. Frodo used to dream of Boromir, naturally, and sometimes Galadriel as she appeared to him at the mirror. Sometimes, more disturbingly, a trusted friend like Gandalf or Aragorn would threaten him. Since Ithilien it is always Faramir. Faramir with his eyes cold, indifferent to Frodo's person, fixated only on the Ring, hanging on its chain around Frodo's neck. As always, Frodo screams, and he raises his hands to defend himself, or to protect the Ring; it is really the same thing.
On the journey, in the wild, Frodo would usually awake to his own screams. He would be frightened, yes, but Sam would always be there beside him, clasping Frodo's hands together, holding him, telling him he was safe. Frodo would know that Sam held his hands to keep him from touching the Ring, but there was still comfort in the contact, in the firm, loving grip. It told him that Sam would protect him from anything, including his own frenzied actions. Even though Frodo's rational mind knew the dangers ahead might be greater than anything Sam could save him from, he would quiet and calm to that touch and those soft, confident words: "You're safe, Mr. Frodo, I'm here. I won't let you go."
He is awakened now not so much by the noise as by the jerk of pressure at his wrists. In the dream, he is unable to raise his hands to offer any form of resistance. In the bed, alone, with his eyes open, Frodo recognizes his other nightmare.
Because this too is becoming familiar: the bare room, the faint light of a clouded dawn through a latticed window; the bare bed, since Frodo has kicked away the blanket in his sleep. Frodo knows there is no powerful enemy and no mysterious force keeping his hands at his sides and so keeping his body in the bed. He knows it is only the leather restraints, fastened to his wrists and to the bed the night before and every night for the last week, just after he downs the draught that sends him quickly into a deep sleep. He knows he will accomplish nothing by struggling, that the bonds will not give way but will only cut more painfully into his wrists as he strains at them. But his knowledge of the futility of it all only makes him feel more helpless and so more angry. So he keeps on fighting, keeps on screaming, and thinks of nothing but the need to get free.
It isn't very long before Sam and Pippin come into the room. Frodo knows to stop screaming even though he can't stop himself from tugging at the restraints. Sam's face is all concern as he rushes to Frodo and the bed, and Frodo could almost weep with the relief of it and the anticipation of having his hands free. He'll embrace both of them then, and thank them for rescuing him.
Sam is kneeling by the bed now, smoothing Frodo's short hair and speaking in the voice Frodo remembers he used to find soothing. "I told them it'd be better if I could sleep in here with you. But see, I'm not so far away. You just call for me and I'll come. I won't let anyone hurt you."
"My hands, Sam," they're hurting me. "I need to get my hands free." Frodo is trying to keep his voice calm but it still comes out close to a shout.
"And you will, sir, in just a little while."
"Sam, please…"
"You just relax, now, and listen to me. You don't have to fight anymore, Mr. Frodo, it's over now." Sam's voice grows more distant. "I told them about the nightmares. They were supposed to give you something different last night, so you wouldn't have any dreams. I'll talk to Olegar about it; he knows all there is to know about herbs and medicines. We'll get this taken care of."
"Not the dream, Sam," Frodo says desperately. "This, now… I need…" But Sam is still stroking his face, not really listening. Frodo jerks his head away from Sam's hand, refusing to accept this kind of comfort. His eyes land on Pippin, still standing frozen in the doorway. "Help me," Frodo pleads.
"This is wrong, Sam." Pippin finally walks over to Frodo and takes hold of one of his hands.
Frodo squeezes too hard and Pippin winces. He tries to smile at Frodo but quickly averts his eyes. Still, he tells Sam, "You can't ask him to relax when he's tied up like this. I'm undoing them."
He says so but doesn't move.
"You know they say we can't," Sam answers.
"They don't get to say what you and I can or cannot do." Pippin is fingering the buckle at Frodo's left wrist. "We're grown hobbits and we can make these decisions for ourselves." Pippin does not say that Frodo too is a grown hobbit and should not be subjected to this kind of treatment.
Frodo knows he should try to keep quiet for this. He thinks Pippin is winning and Frodo should wait out the argument calmly. Above all, he must not speak of the Ring, even if it is difficult sometimes to think of anything else. Be calm, he tells himself, be quiet, be sane. But his impatience to be free combines with his anger at being talked over like a child, or like a thing. He tugs at the leather and at Pippin's hand and hisses, "Now, cousin."
Still Pippin waits nervously. If the enemy were to attack Frodo now, he would have no way of defending himself. And the presence of Sam and Pippin means very little on this account, since Pippin is weak and Sam no longer seems to want to help him.
Sam is trying to touch Frodo's face again but still ignores his words. He speaks only to Pippin, as if Frodo cannot understand, "It's not safe, not when he's like this. Not when he's fighting us like this."
So that's why they won't help him. No one worries anymore that he might attack Faramir or his soldiers, for there is really no hope left; but they do think he would attack Sam and Pippin. A danger to himself and others, Frodo has heard the words before, but he doesn't believe them. It hurts him to know that Sam does. Frodo looks to Pippin again and waits for his response, some words on Frodo's behalf. But Pippin is silent. He looks down at Frodo with his eyes full of tears, indecision, and helplessness.
"Please." Frodo realizes as he speaks that he too is crying now. His voice is ragged from screaming and emotion. "Sam, I promise you I'm not dangerous. I never… it was only the one time. You must believe I won't try to do anything to you."
Sam looks surprised. "Of course not, Mr. Frodo. Did you think I was worried about me? It's you as could get hurt. Don't you remember why they started doing this in the first place?"
The hand at Frodo's face moves down to his neck and then slides the loose nightshirt a few inches down. Frodo feels a stinging under Sam's fingers and looks down to see red marks on his own chest. It is only now that his body stills, as his mind fights off the haze of anger combined with sedation, struggles to make sense of what he is seeing.
He raises his eyes to Sam's face. Ah, and all three of them are crying now. "You bit your nails down so close," Sam says tenderly, "you couldn't do much damage. Otherwise I think you'd've made yourself bleed. You were reaching for it in your sleep, you know. You started doing it before we came here, but since there's nothing for you to catch hold of now…"
Nothing to hold on to. Nothing. How long has it been, Frodo wonders, since any of them named the Ring aloud?
Frodo hears Sam's voice break as he goes on speaking, but he no longer registers more than fragments ("…that I could stay with you… said it was safe…"). Instead he hears the words Sam said earlier: You don't have to fight anymore. And finally understands them: It's over now.
If the enemy were to attack Frodo now, he would have no way of defending himself… But what is there left to defend? The Ring is gone, and Frodo is nothing without it. What enemy would even bother to attack him now? Why do any of them bother with him at all?
Frodo stops fighting. He stops trying to work out what is happening and why, stops hoping someone will come to his aid. He stops feeling ashamed. He releases all his tensed muscles and releases the loud sob that has been trapped in his throat. There are hands on his hands and on his face, but he doesn't know or care whose they are. He feels only emptiness. He hears but does not comprehend the voices, first trying to soothe and then growing increasingly anxious as Frodo fails to respond. And his eyes are open but he sees only bright white.
After a long while Frodo becomes aware of someone rubbing his back. He then knows that he is sitting up, held in another's embrace, sobbing into someone's shoulder. It is a relief to him to hear only one voice. And the voice does not lie to him, does not tell him that he is safe or that everything will be all right. It does not tell him to calm down or to stop weeping or to stop fighting. It only repeats two phrases over and over again: "I love you, Frodo" and "I'm sorry."
"Merry!" Frodo cries, and he hugs his cousin tightly, only then realizing that he finally has his hands free. He is sitting in the same bed, but he thinks he could get out of it if he had the strength, if he wanted to. "Merry, you've come."
"Yes, Frodo, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner." At first all Frodo wants is to stay there in Merry's arms, but then comes the desire to see Merry's face, and Frodo reluctantly loosens his grip.
Merry is not crying, and Frodo quickly dries his own eyes on his sleeve in order to see more clearly. Frodo stares and Merry gingerly touches the side of Frodo's head. "They've cut your hair," he says.
There is almost no emotion in his voice, but Frodo's shame rushes back to him at the words and at the emotions warring on Merry's face, pity and horror for Frodo mixed with seething rage for the rest of the world. But what a horror Frodo must look, in his child's nightclothes, with his bloodshot eyes and his swollen face, naked without the dark curls he'd kept long for so many years. And what a horror he must have looked when Merry first came into the room. Was that early on, he wonders, when he was writhing and begging? Or after, when he was insensible, bawling like an infant?
Frodo looks down because he can no longer hold his cousin's gaze, and he sees that the red marks on his chest are still exposed. Merry is probably seeing them and wondering. Frodo tugs the nightshirt into place and turns away. He would like to leave, or disappear altogether, but of course this is not up to him.
"Mine and Sam's," he says, somewhat surprised to realize that Sam is still in the room with them. He doesn't give much thought to where Pippin might have gone. "There were lice."
"I know." Merry is touching his hair again, perhaps not quite disgusted with him. "Sam told me last night. It's just strange getting used to, it looks so different on you."
But why are they talking about this, of all the things that are strange and wrong? Frodo catches Merry's hand and pulls it down, but finds he is able to face him again. A doubt crosses his mind. "Last night? Have you been here long?" And why didn't you come and help me before? "Pip told me you were away in Rohan with… the others." No one has given it to him as a rule, but he feels instinctively that he is not meant to utter Aragorn's name, even here among friends, or among those who were once his friends.
"I was there, but Gandalf sent for me with the message that you and Sam had been found and couldn't I come to Minas Tirith to be with you. And of course I came at once. I arrived yesterday just after dark." Merry's words are tumbling over themselves and he seems embarrassed for the first time. "And they said I wouldn't want to see you then because you'd just eaten and they gave you some tea to help you relax, but I said I had to, I had to see you and know you were alive."
"So you were here? In this room?" How can Merry stand to look at him?
"Yes." But Merry keeps looking Frodo in the eye. And Frodo wants to look anywhere else but doesn't want to disappoint Merry yet again. "But you weren't yourself. You didn't know me."
Frodo's face is hot, and he wants to be anywhere else, but he doesn't want to leave Merry. "I don't remember," he says softly, "I'm sorry."
"Nothing for you to be sorry about, sir." Frodo had forgotten about Sam's presence again. It is a relief to shift his gaze away from Merry for a moment. "It's like Mr. Merry said, you weren't yourself then."
"I'm never myself anymore, am I?"
Merry says, "None of us are quite the same as we were before, but I'll take this morning's Frodo over the one I saw last night, thank you very much."
Frodo doesn’t remember Merry's earlier visit, doesn't remember anything from the night before after beginning his supper. He shudders to think what could have been worse than the spectacle Merry has witnessed this morning. "Was I very upset?" he asks. He hates knowing there are times when he is completely out of control. "Was I screaming?"
"No, dear," Merry replies sadly, "you weren't fighting at all. That was what was so awful about it." Sam looks cross at this but says nothing. Merry lowers his voice; and, though the door is closed and the walls are thick, Frodo thinks this is wise. "You're right to struggle, Frodo, you're right to be angry. We all need to be fighting against what Faramir is trying to do."
"Mr. Merry, we talked about this already." Sam's tone seems to say that if any further discussion needs to be had on this matter, it had better not be in the lunatic's presence. For some reason Frodo doesn't fully comprehend, he smiles at both of them, hoping they will not argue any more.
"I'm so glad you've come, Merry, and the four of us can be together again." He doesn't really feel glad of anything, but he's beginning to understand that much pretending to be glad will be expected of him, if he's ever to be considered healthy and safe. And he does want to put his friends at ease. The tension between Merry and Sam is uncomfortable for him.
The door opens (without a knock) and Pippin enters, carrying a tray of food. Ioreth comes behind him and stands in the doorway. "You're safe for this once, Merry," Pippin announces. "Ioreth says she won't tell Gandalf or Faramir you acted against their orders. So it looks like you'll stay out of the dungeon for another day, at least."
Merry and Sam haven't said anything about Merry being in trouble. Frodo wonders vaguely about the details of the orders from above. Under precisely what conditions are his friends permitted to unbind his hands?
"Good to see you're feeling better, Frodo," Pippin adds cheerily. He does not seem like the same hobbit who cried at Frodo's bedside… how long ago was it?
"What about you, Pippin?" Frodo is surprised at the bitterness in Merry's voice. He's never known Merry to speak this way to their younger cousin. "Will you be informing on me when you report back to Lord Faramir for duty?"
"Now, you hold your tongue, Master Meriadoc," Ioreth intervenes. "You've caused enough trouble for one day. And Master Frodo's had enough excitement for one morning, I should think. I'll see to his breakfast. There's breakfast for the three of you in Sam's room, next door."
"Good then," says Merry, "we can bring it in here and have a meal for just the four of us. Just like old times, eh, Frodo?"
"I said I'd see to Frodo," Ioreth replies firmly. "That's my job, after all."
"Begging your pardon, mistress," says Sam, "but would it do so much harm for us to stay here with him? Maybe even just a one of us" -- there is in angry glance from Merry at this -- "so he doesn't think we've left 'im alone?"
They're talking over and about him again. Four strong wills conflicting, and Frodo's own will isn't even taken into account. No one asks him whether he'd prefer to be with Sam or with Merry, or whether he'd rather not have his breakfast (and his morning dose of tea, which no one has mentioned but which is sitting there on the tray) at all. Not that that's an option.
Frodo wants out, away from the raised voices. In truth he wants out of this room and this House altogether, though no one has said whether that will ever happen.
He sees that the door of the room, usually locked from the outside, is hanging open. He finds that no one and nothing is holding him, and he's able to stand. Hands are on him again almost immediately, and although he resents the control they all have over him, it's just as well. His knees feel weak and the dizziness is overwhelming, and he leans heavily into the arms that wrap around him now, before even realizing that they are Sam's.
"Where are you going, sir?"
"I don't know." Freedom would mean nothing anyway, as Frodo has nowhere to go, no reason to do anything but what they tell him to.
And the knowledge comes to him, simple as water from a spring or blood from a wound, that nothing he or any of them does now will make any difference at all. Frodo can kick and scream, Sam and Pippin can come and watch him, and Merry might even be as brave as to release his bonds and say words that sound true. But there it is: Frodo is still a prisoner, still a failure, still a wreck of himself.
He lets Sam help him to sit down again on the bed. When the dizziness fades Frodo pulls away from Sam, brings his legs up on the bed and shrinks toward the wall. "I don't know," he says again, though he no longer knows what question he is trying to answer. "Please leave me alone."
"There then," Ioreth says with an air of finality, "you've heard Master Frodo, young hobbits. He wants some peace and quiet. Maybe if he's feeling stronger later in the day then one of you can came back and see him. But this kind of crowding and excitement isn't what he needs. Your breakfast is waiting next door, as I said."
There is a silence and a stillness in the room for some moments. Frodo imagines trying again for the door, fighting off anyone who tries to hold him back. Finding Faramir, somehow, and not giving up until he holds the Ring again. If I tried for it now, he thinks, even Merry would be helping to hold me down while they strap me back in. Frodo holds as still as he can and avoids the other hobbits' eyes. Then Sam reaches for Frodo's hand, and when Frodo again pulls away the stillness breaks. Sam stands, and he and Pippin walk meekly to the door. Merry lingers last, and when Frodo finally looks up at him Merry speaks quickly, aware of Ioreth's disapproving glare, "I'm sorry, Frodo." He walks out and Ioreth shuts the door behind him.
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