Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2006-05-20 08:00 am
sophinisba) wrote2006-05-20 08:00 am
Entry tags:
Not Yourself 9
Under the cut, chapter nine of my somewhat dark AU Frodo fic, the one where Faramir takes the Ring and all that. I'm very sorry to have taken so long since posting the last chapter. I should finish the series in the next few weeks. All parts are now tagged not yourself for easy navigation.
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A few people said that they found previous chapters painful to read. This chapter is trying very hard for that effect and I think of it as the most severe. You might want to give it a pass if you're feeling fragile today!
Title: Not Yourself 9/12
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Rating: PG-13 for series, PG for this chapter
Summary: Gen AU following mostly movie-verse. Faramir takes the Ring and means to save Frodo from madness.
Beta: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aprilkat for stepping in with a rock star beta job (that is, comments that made me feel like a rock star). 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.
Merry and Sam are arguing again, a few feet behind Frodo, talking as if he couldn't hear them. Frodo is at his most alert at this time of day -- just before supper and the sedative that always accompanies it -- and he knows exactly what Merry is trying to do, knows that something will have to be done to stop him. This outing is too important to be ruined by Merry's good intentions.
Frodo's legs ache and he half wishes he were back in his cell at the Houses of Healing, or in the garden with Sam. He walks there every day now, not so much because it feels good as because they've told him it's a part of the healing process. He does feel stronger than he did a few months ago, but he really isn't prepared for this. He should have tried to put it off for another week or two.
After luncheon and a short rest they left one soldier to stay with the ponies, and they've spent most of the afternoon hiking through the hills of Ithilien. This kind of terrain once meant an easy stroll for Frodo, but today the going has been difficult. And for all the humiliation he has suffered, Frodo still hates being the weak one, hates the solicitous looks, hates seeing the others consciously slowing their pace so as not to show up Frodo's physical limitations. Pippin in particular looks like he'd like to bound ahead, but instead he walks at Frodo's side, supports him when he stumbles, makes earnestly cheerful small talk.
It's become much easier to spend time with Sam, who doesn't demand anything of him, who no longer fills the silence between them with nervous talk or anything that would require a response from Frodo. More effort is required for walking with Pippin, but Frodo has also gotten much better at this, at playing along, talking and smiling and even laughing at the right places, pretending he is not in pain.
And he's reaped the rewards: a new level of freedom, increasing trust from the healers. Gandalf is cannier than the rest, as Frodo had expected. He frowns at the hobbit's smile from under thick eyebrows, and with his eyes he tells Frodo he knows it is all a façade. But he also seems to prefer the façade over open rebellion or sullenness. It is also confusing for Frodo at times, for it is one thing to decide he can say one thing and believe another, but Frodo never was a very good liar. And he is afraid all the time, either that others will notice his deceitfulness, or that he himself will come to believe whatever words he says aloud, will come to feel whatever emotions he projects on his face. He doesn't know how to keep his balance.
Still, it's been easier than Frodo expected, that first day on the stairs with Analeth. After a bit of experimentation he's figured out how to get things by appearing not to want them. A few days after he stopped asking them to let him sleep with his hands free, they finally did. The marks on his wrists are gone, and no new marks have appeared on his chest.
He's noticed a different taste to the tea he drinks at meals, and he knows the new drug isn't as strong. In truth he'd stopped minding the old one, and at times he misses the oblivion it used to bring him, the way it could make everything in the world go away. The old drug was like a blow to the head. The new one is more like a soft pillow -- or two, Frodo muses, one underneath to keep you comfortable and quiet on the bed, and one on top to take away the oxygen. It's effective but not quite as satisfying as the old method.
They let him decide how much time to spend in his room and how much in the garden, although there are hints about which decisions are correct, and Frodo has learned to follow them to avoid conflicts.
Walking with Pippin takes effort, but it's still not nearly as difficult as walking with Merry. Merry is tense; Merry is still almost openly angry. Merry is far too intelligent for his own good, and yet he seems to miss the strategic importance of the jovial front. So today he's trying to convince Sam not to make Frodo drink his tea at supper, that it will be a more enjoyable trip for all of them if Frodo is awake and present. Walking with Merry is exhausting, but Frodo knows no one else can convince him to be quiet. Frodo slows his steps, and the two bickering hobbits quickly catch up to him and Pippin, cutting off their conversation abruptly.
Frodo takes Merry's hand and says, "Walk with me, cousin, and don't be so unhappy. It's beautiful here."
It isn't terribly smooth, especially since this landscape is much less beautiful than it once was. The plants have suffered from the lack of sun and water. In truth, Frodo takes no pleasure in journeying again through this land. Still, Sam understands. He strikes up a conversation with Pippin and walks ahead with him, putting a discreet distance between the two groups.
Frodo lowers his voice and murmurs, "Really, Merry, I'm supposed to be the one who's mad, or at least drugged out of my mind. You could stand to act with a little more sense than Mad Baggins, I should think."
Merry stares, and Frodo moves close to kiss his temple, taking the opportunity to whisper in his ear, "Do you really think they aren't watching us even here?"
Especially here, he might have said. But Merry will catch on, he always does. Frodo knows that today and tomorrow are a crucial test, an outing on which his and everyone's behavior will be observed and analyzed closely. Gandalf walks ahead of them, and the two soldiers who are still with them, Beregond and Anborn, keep a certain distance and act dumb. The idea must be to make the hobbits feel they're on their own and see how they respond. Frodo fears it will become an ordeal once they reach more familiar places, and of course that is the point. Will Frodo go into some kind of frenzy when he comes to the place where Faramir first overpowered them, or is he sufficiently healed that he can remain calm?
The other hobbits are being observed as well. Will Sam make sure Frodo takes his medicine, or will he yield to Merry's arguments? Will Merry try to hatch some absurd plot, or is he finally learning to follow the path others have set for them? Gandalf, Beregond, and Anborn are watching and listening, certainly, and Frodo suspects that Pippin too will be giving some kind of report to Faramir once they all return to Minas Tirith. All four accounts will then be compared in order to measure Pippin's truthfulness and loyalty.
As they walk on, Frodo watches all of this finally begin to register on Merry's face. It's a blessing that they still understand each other so well, after everything that's happened, because talking is often difficult for Frodo now, and talking out loud is dangerous. He remembers whispered words to each of the three. What he believed were confidences at the time were repeated back to him later and had to be examined and explained.
Frodo's next speech is addressed to Merry, but it is meant for all the spies as well. "Sam misses his Rosie," he says. "He tried telling me a few weeks ago, I think, in the garden."
"What happened? Was he afraid of upsetting you?"
"No, I think I was the one who was afraid." He tries to make his voice light. "Really I doubt anything could get me going now, what with all the herbs they've been feeding me." He'd hoped Merry might smile and is disappointed, but at least Frodo is getting the words out. "Things don't hit me with so much force anymore, and Sam knows that as well as anyone. Still, we'd already mentioned his family, and when I thought he was going to start talking about Rosie, it was…" he trails off, then begins again. "I'd been so focused on my own suffering these last months, and I just began thinking then about how much he's sacrificed in order to come with me, and to stay here with me while I went through all this... He doesn't really speak of it; none of you do." This gets him another startled look from Merry, but Frodo goes on. "He never told her he was going any farther away than Crickhollow, you know. I'd never thought of it, in all the excitement of the journey, but he'd never said anything to the Gaffer either, just as you never warned your parents, nor Pippin his."
Merry shrugs. "It didn't -- other things, secrecy I suppose, seemed more important at the time. Anyway, we had no idea what we were getting into, no notion we'd be gone this long."
"And what's it been now," Frodo asks, "nine months?"
"Closer to ten."
"They must think we're all dead."
Merry looks pained but smiles slightly. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," he says. "They knew Bilbo, after all."
"But think of the uncertainty of it," Frodo continues. "And you their only son and heir, and losing the rest of us at the same time. I can't even imagine…"
Merry is shaking his head.
"But of course you've thought about it," Frodo says. "I'm sorry to get so worked up and worry you any more. You understand what I mean though, don't you, Merry? You and Pippin and Sam all have people waiting for you back at home. He needs to marry Rosie and have a dozen babies or so, and you and Pippin have your own lives to lead, and you're stuck here because of me."
Merry looks like he wants to speak, but Frodo keeps talking, wanting to get the next part over with.
"I used to think I'd be locked up in that place for ever, but it's changing, you see? I'm… I suppose I'm getting better, as they said I would." Lying to Merry is not like lying to Analeth, Gandalf, or even Sam, any of the ones who expect this kind of talk from him. It is more painful, it feels like a betrayal; but at the same time Frodo knows it is not as serious, not a real lie, because Merry will be able to understand what Frodo really means. "I see Gandalf every day, and we talk, and I've been working so hard" -- his voice cracks on this -- "and it's actually making a difference, I think. And Sam learns everything he can from the healers, so they think he can take over for them when we leave. And they talk as if it could be soon, sometime in the next few months, while the weather is still good for traveling."
You understand what I mean though, don't you, Merry? We are putting on a lovely play, and the happier we seem to be today and tomorrow, the sooner they'll let me go. I know you mean well, but please, don't put my freedom and yours in jeopardy by arguing with Sam about whether I can skip a dose. We'll talk about it later, once we get away from here.
Merry understands, and there is no need for him to say so. He answers what Frodo has said aloud. "We can stay here as long as you need, Frodo. We don't mind being 'stuck' with you anywhere. But I'm glad you're thinking and talking about going home."
Looking ahead, Frodo sees that Gandalf and the others have stopped at the crown of a hill. Pippin and Beregond are spreading out blankets on the ground, and Gandalf is helping Sam to prepare a fire.
Frodo and Merry linger along the path, far enough away for them to pretend their conversation is private, even though Frodo is fairly sure it is not.
"And it's not only the three of us who have things to do there," Merry adds, "or loved ones missing us." He turns to face Frodo and look him in the eyes. "Mum and Dad love you," he says. "You know that, don't you? You know they'd like nothing better than to have you back with us at the Hall?"
Frodo smiles, for this does not come as a surprise. He tries to avoid the subject, but Gandalf likes to make him talk about it too: What will you do once you leave? Who will you be, back in the Shire? Why should we let you go? Frodo has been testing acceptable reactions; the thing is not to sound worried. "Thank you, Merry. I -- I don't know how much good I'll be to anyone at home after all this. But we'll work out the details when we get there." That's right, he'll accept whatever life gives him. "Who knows what Fatty's been up to at Crickhollow, or the S-Bs at Bag End, for that matter. I wouldn't be surprised if Lobelia and Lotho had torn up all the Hill by now, digging for treasures they thought Bilbo had hidden away. Can't you just see her, though? Directing the workers around with her umbrella?… but Merry, whatever is it? No, you can't cry over Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, I won't permit it."
It was only a few tears before, but now Merry sobs. Frodo tries to quiet him, unsure whether he cares more about ending his cousin's distress or about keeping up the pretense of easy contentment.
"It's you, Frodo. It's you talking like yourself, like you used to back when… I hadn't thought of the Sackville-Bagginses since we left."
"And me talking like me upsets you?"
"It's --" Merry hugs him and tries his turn at whispering, though his voice is unsteady and louder than he probably would like. "I miss you like this. Every time I think I'm getting a glimpse of my own dear Frodo, someone brings out some special tea, and it's like a curtain is drawn. You disappear again."
Frodo pulls away. "I understand," he says, "but it's harder than you think, doing without the tea. I'm not sure how to explain it, really, but it's tiring, being like this. I don't think I could stand it for more than an hour or two at a time. I can't think too much about what happened, you know. Or about what could have happened. I just can't seem to keep things together when I do."
And it's a struggle, Merry, it's a constant battle to keep my thoughts on the safe subjects, to keep my feelings off my face, to keep from screaming. To pretend there's a Shire to go home to and the world isn't about to end. To pretend that I don't want it back. But I'll tell you about that some other time, when Faramir's spies aren't listening, if such a time ever comes.
"Come on, let's quit this heavy talk and go get something to eat," says Frodo, starting up toward the little camp. "And no more arguing with Sam or anyone else about what I get to drink, or soon enough they'll be making you drink it as well."
Joking is allowed, even if there's a bit of resentment underneath. The thing is to appear cheerful and complacent. Frodo's getting better at it all the time. He smiles broadly as they reach the others.
"How I've missed your cooking, Sam," he says fondly, pleased to find something to say that is not only appropriate and upbeat but also true. "This smells wonderful. What is it you're preparing for us today?"
Sam looks up from the pot he has been stirring and smiles back at Frodo. "I'm making us another rabbit stew," he says happily. "More of it this time, for Anborn and Beregond have shot enough coneys for all of us, while we were walking. And I thought ahead enough to bring a few carrots and onions and taters this time, besides herbs from the garden." Frodo is frozen still. "You remember that day, don't you, Mr. Frodo? The day we ate in this same place together? And I saw an oliphaunt?"
It must have been arranged, Frodo thinks, trying to fight off the sudden terror. It must have been Gandalf's idea, or possibly Faramir's -- another part of the test. It cannot have been Sam's idea to call up the memory of their very last moments of freedom, the last time Frodo still hoped that it might be possible to carry out his quest. Along with the scent of the rich stew comes, of course, the memory of their discovery by Faramir, the person Frodo most hates in the world and the one he is expected to love as his personal rescuer from madness or death, and apart from that his ruler and, as the story is now told, savior of Gondor and all Middle-earth.
Frodo is aware of a silence. It is his turn to speak. Probably everyone is staring, waiting. Probably, whether Sam and the other hobbits realize it or not, everything depends on Frodo's behavior in these next few moments, his ability to stay in control. He seeks for words to fill the void.
"I remember, of course," he says haltingly. "It wasn't all bad, was it, Sam?" Is this the wrong thing to say? Does it sound as if he longs for the time before they met Faramir, when Frodo still held the Ring? "Our journey, I mean. We had a few good moments together. You'll have some adventures to tell folk when you get home. Did you ever imagine you and I would see an oliphaunt?"
He does not say, Folk will think you mad if you ever try to tell them. He does not say, I'll never try to tell them. No one needs any more proof to decide about me.
"What was that like then, Sam? I never tire of hearing you tell it," says Pippin. And thank the Valar for Pippin, who for all his acceptance of Faramir's word still loves Frodo and knows how to take a bit of the pressure off him at this moment.
Frodo has glimpsed a look of sudden and intense understanding, regret, and, yes, love from Sam. But Sam goes back to tending the stew and speaks of the Haradrim army, their exotic costumes, their incredible beasts of burden, then of the daring raid by Faramir and his men.
Frodo can still feel Gandalf's eyes on him but is relieved not to have to speak. He realizes that he is still holding Merry's hand and that his grip has tightened in his panic. He concentrates on relaxing his hand again, and turns to Merry with an attempt at a reassuring smile. Merry's concerned face tells Frodo that the attempt is a failed one, but Frodo still feels he is coping quite well. Look at me, he feels like saying, I'm not screaming. I may be crushing your hand, Merry, and my heart may be racing, but I'm not raging, not quite. Not yet.
Frodo has stopped listening to Sam's words through conscious effort, but he notices when they cease, recognizes the need for him to speak again.
"Good then, we'll have another picnic." Surely they don't expect him to have listened to closely to Sam's story, to add his own account. "How long do you think it will be before we eat, Sam?" How long can he possibly be expected to stand in this place?
"Might be another hour or so, to get it cooked just right."
"We'll have a nice chance to rest then," says Pippin. "Well deserved, after such traipsing about all day." Pippin isn't tired, obviously, but he understands that Frodo is. "Why don't you sit down with us, both of you." He motions to Frodo and Merry. Frodo finds his body so tense and stiff that it is difficult to walk the short distance to the blanket, harder still to sit down between his cousins, and Merry has to support him as he does.
A thought occurs to him. "Sam," he says, not daring to look at Sam or anyone else, "as long as we're just waiting here, do you suppose I could…" -- say it -- "Do you suppose I could have my tea now?" He senses glances exchanged between Sam and Gandalf, between Merry and Pippin, but still he stares down at the blanket. "I know I usually have it with meals, so maybe it's better to wait. I only thought… thought it might help me to relax, as long as we're here." His voice is tiny by the time he finishes. There is a pause, more exchanged glances. A nod, he thinks, from the wizard.
"A fine idea, Mr. Frodo," from Sam. "We usually do serve it with meals, but only because it's easier and the timing works out well that way. But Olegar's told me it makes no difference if you drink it with food or no. We might all have some tea while we wait for all these raw things to become a proper meal."
Gandalf and the other hobbits drink linden leaf tea in an endeavor to make Frodo feel more comfortable. Frodo continues to avoid eye contact with his friends, especially Merry, who clearly feels betrayed, and Gandalf, with whom Frodo knows he will have to discuss all of this later. He is unsure as to how his request will be interpreted. Is it wrong of him to try to take the timing of the dose into his own hands? Is he meant to trust others to make these decisions for him? Or mightn't he be praised for recognizing his own limitations, knowing when to ask them for help? But he cannot bring himself to care much for the consequences, certain that he could not have withstood another hour without this. Even before he touches the cup to his lips, he feels a genuine smile in them, calming to the familiar smell of the steam. He ignores the bitterness in Merry's eyes and in the tea itself. The drink has come to seem sweet to him, at least at times like these, when awareness of the world as it is becomes too much of a burden to bear without breaking.
There is more silence, but it no longer feels awkward to him. Frodo lies with his head in Pippin's lap while Pippin runs a hand slowly through his hair. Sam stirs the pot, Gandalf smokes, and Merry paces around at the edge of Frodo's vision, hands in his pockets, looking off in the distance and occasionally kicking at the grass. As the two soldiers walk off together, Frodo realizes for the first time that the taller one, Anborn, is the same man who carried Frodo on his horse, kept him immobile all along that dreadful ride from Osgiliath to Minas Tirith, one of the two who dragged him into the Houses of Healing and subdued him when he fought. Probably one of the group that beat him back at the beginning, though Frodo's memories of that event are less clear. He smiles at the new insight and thinks to wave, but it is easier not to move.
Frodo is fighting sleep by the time Sam begins dishing out the food, but the stew is quite good and it revives him somewhat. Anborn and Beregond take their part and withdraw again, while Gandalf and the four hobbits sit together.
"The last time Frodo and Sam were here," says Gandalf, "armies were grouping for what I feared would be the great battle of our time." Frodo thinks that it is just like this hard new Gandalf to try to ruin a good, simple meal with such grand words. "Faramir and his men were fighting bravely against the Haradrim, who were then our enemy. And Frodo and Sam were doing their own part. But now we are all on the same side." Frodo finishes his food and sets his plate aside, stretching out on the blanket. As it happens, he now looks at Merry, who has also stopped eating, even though, Frodo sees, he has not finished. Merry stares at the wizard and listens with growing agitation as the speech drags on. The information barely registers with Frodo: that Faramir, who managed to create an alliance between the lands of Gondor and Harad, will soon be crowned King of Gondor. That Theoden of Rohan has promised Faramir his niece, the Lady Eowyn, and that their marriage will unite those two kingdoms as well. That even Mordor itself is no longer their enemy, now that Faramir commands Sauron's Ring.
Frodo feels a brief thrill at this last, but it passes quickly. He loses track of what has been said and only wishes Merry wouldn't look so unhappy. After a little while, Frodo closes his eyes, and sleeps, and does not dream.
Frodo is not the only one to have slept. Sam and Pippin are rubbing their eyes when Gandalf rouses him. It's harder to tell with the others. They begin walking again, but it soon becomes clear that Frodo cannot be left to walk on his own. In the end, Gandalf and the men take turns carrying him, and as things are now Frodo feels no shame in it. His mind drifts and he remembers the first weeks after Rivendell, when Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas would often carry the hobbits, who took smaller steps and were unused to walking such distances. Those days had their own cares, and there was perhaps greater uncertainty then than there is now, but Frodo was more hopeful then. He believed in their quest and trusted his friends. It is pleasant and easy to pretend now that they are walking in the foothills of the Misty Mountains and not the Mountains of Shadow.
Meanwhile, part of his mind is also aware that they are taking the once secret path to Henneth Annûn. Anborn leads the way, the only one really familiar with this path. But since the enemy is no longer an enemy, there is no need to cover the visitors' eyes. Frodo relaxes in Anborn's arms, thinking of Aragorn, and it doesn't pain him to remember the other time he and Sam were led along this path, blindfolded and bound. No one needs to bother binding my hands anymore, he thinks dreamily. I'm a good patient. I ask nicely for my tea and I'm grateful for whatever they give me.
Inside the cave the light is dim, and at first the noise of the waterfall drowns out all other sounds. Frodo thinks this is beautiful.
However, he can tell that Merry is still troubled, and that Sam dislikes being back here and is worried for Frodo. Possibly the near thing before the meal made him realize how cruel all of the little journey is for Frodo, though he won't admit this in words. The other two are even making Pippin nervous. Frodo pities them but can't muster the energy to talk them out of their evil moods.
Merry says, loudly enough to carry some distance even over the roar of the water, "Gandalf, this is wrong of you. It's cruel to make Frodo and Sam spend the night in a place where they were held as prisoners."
Sam and I are still prisoners, Frodo thinks with amusement. No more cruel to have us sleep here than in my cell in the House of Healing from Madness or whatever they want to call it. He smiles and, without much hope of accomplishing anything, tries laying a finger on Merry's lips to quiet him.
Merry pulls Frodo's hand away, saying, "No, Frodo, I won't pretend it's all right just to make everyone feel better. I don't care who hears me, I can't bear to see them hurt you like this."
Dear, dear Merry, I thought you'd understood. "It doesn't hurt." Frodo manages to get these three words out, but his tongue is too heavy to add, You know Sam would never go along with anything that did.
Gandalf walks over to where the four hobbits are huddled together. "You needn't be afraid to speak your mind, Merry," he says, and Frodo registers the lie and the threat in his voice without feeling alarm. "The truth is that this area is no longer dangerous, and we might sleep outside as safely as in this cave. Frodo," he asks gravely, "would you prefer that?"
Frodo is confident of the correct answer this time and shakes his head as forcefully as he can. He tries to think of what to say and comes up with, "Like the waterfall." This will be taken as I like the waterfall, and that is close enough. What Frodo wishes he could make Merry understand is that the tea Sam gave him before dinner is as sublime and wonderful a thing as the waterfall. A cave might be a frightening place without it, and this particular cave could be terrifying, if you let yourself think too much about it. But if you can relax and live in the moment of it, there's really nothing to worry about. Within half an hour's time they've all become somewhat accustomed to the noise of the waterfall, and it's faded into the background. But all the time it is having an effect, working as a kind of shield. Battles could be being fought outside, but Frodo and his friends won't have to see or hear or worry about them, because they're safe inside, behind that thick curtain of water. And the drug works the same way. "Takes the edges off," Frodo says aloud. It wears off the sharp edges of reality in his mind.
But Merry does not understand as Frodo had hoped he would, and he moves away. Later in the evening Frodo is more awake and feels he might speak, but Merry is not in the mood to listen. Frodo knows not to insist. They sleep in the cave, behind the waterfall, and in the morning they start back toward the city.
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A few people said that they found previous chapters painful to read. This chapter is trying very hard for that effect and I think of it as the most severe. You might want to give it a pass if you're feeling fragile today!
Title: Not Yourself 9/12
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Rating: PG-13 for series, PG for this chapter
Summary: Gen AU following mostly movie-verse. Faramir takes the Ring and means to save Frodo from madness.
Beta: Many thanks to
aprilkat for stepping in with a rock star beta job (that is, comments that made me feel like a rock star). 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.
Merry and Sam are arguing again, a few feet behind Frodo, talking as if he couldn't hear them. Frodo is at his most alert at this time of day -- just before supper and the sedative that always accompanies it -- and he knows exactly what Merry is trying to do, knows that something will have to be done to stop him. This outing is too important to be ruined by Merry's good intentions.
Frodo's legs ache and he half wishes he were back in his cell at the Houses of Healing, or in the garden with Sam. He walks there every day now, not so much because it feels good as because they've told him it's a part of the healing process. He does feel stronger than he did a few months ago, but he really isn't prepared for this. He should have tried to put it off for another week or two.
After luncheon and a short rest they left one soldier to stay with the ponies, and they've spent most of the afternoon hiking through the hills of Ithilien. This kind of terrain once meant an easy stroll for Frodo, but today the going has been difficult. And for all the humiliation he has suffered, Frodo still hates being the weak one, hates the solicitous looks, hates seeing the others consciously slowing their pace so as not to show up Frodo's physical limitations. Pippin in particular looks like he'd like to bound ahead, but instead he walks at Frodo's side, supports him when he stumbles, makes earnestly cheerful small talk.
It's become much easier to spend time with Sam, who doesn't demand anything of him, who no longer fills the silence between them with nervous talk or anything that would require a response from Frodo. More effort is required for walking with Pippin, but Frodo has also gotten much better at this, at playing along, talking and smiling and even laughing at the right places, pretending he is not in pain.
And he's reaped the rewards: a new level of freedom, increasing trust from the healers. Gandalf is cannier than the rest, as Frodo had expected. He frowns at the hobbit's smile from under thick eyebrows, and with his eyes he tells Frodo he knows it is all a façade. But he also seems to prefer the façade over open rebellion or sullenness. It is also confusing for Frodo at times, for it is one thing to decide he can say one thing and believe another, but Frodo never was a very good liar. And he is afraid all the time, either that others will notice his deceitfulness, or that he himself will come to believe whatever words he says aloud, will come to feel whatever emotions he projects on his face. He doesn't know how to keep his balance.
Still, it's been easier than Frodo expected, that first day on the stairs with Analeth. After a bit of experimentation he's figured out how to get things by appearing not to want them. A few days after he stopped asking them to let him sleep with his hands free, they finally did. The marks on his wrists are gone, and no new marks have appeared on his chest.
He's noticed a different taste to the tea he drinks at meals, and he knows the new drug isn't as strong. In truth he'd stopped minding the old one, and at times he misses the oblivion it used to bring him, the way it could make everything in the world go away. The old drug was like a blow to the head. The new one is more like a soft pillow -- or two, Frodo muses, one underneath to keep you comfortable and quiet on the bed, and one on top to take away the oxygen. It's effective but not quite as satisfying as the old method.
They let him decide how much time to spend in his room and how much in the garden, although there are hints about which decisions are correct, and Frodo has learned to follow them to avoid conflicts.
Walking with Pippin takes effort, but it's still not nearly as difficult as walking with Merry. Merry is tense; Merry is still almost openly angry. Merry is far too intelligent for his own good, and yet he seems to miss the strategic importance of the jovial front. So today he's trying to convince Sam not to make Frodo drink his tea at supper, that it will be a more enjoyable trip for all of them if Frodo is awake and present. Walking with Merry is exhausting, but Frodo knows no one else can convince him to be quiet. Frodo slows his steps, and the two bickering hobbits quickly catch up to him and Pippin, cutting off their conversation abruptly.
Frodo takes Merry's hand and says, "Walk with me, cousin, and don't be so unhappy. It's beautiful here."
It isn't terribly smooth, especially since this landscape is much less beautiful than it once was. The plants have suffered from the lack of sun and water. In truth, Frodo takes no pleasure in journeying again through this land. Still, Sam understands. He strikes up a conversation with Pippin and walks ahead with him, putting a discreet distance between the two groups.
Frodo lowers his voice and murmurs, "Really, Merry, I'm supposed to be the one who's mad, or at least drugged out of my mind. You could stand to act with a little more sense than Mad Baggins, I should think."
Merry stares, and Frodo moves close to kiss his temple, taking the opportunity to whisper in his ear, "Do you really think they aren't watching us even here?"
Especially here, he might have said. But Merry will catch on, he always does. Frodo knows that today and tomorrow are a crucial test, an outing on which his and everyone's behavior will be observed and analyzed closely. Gandalf walks ahead of them, and the two soldiers who are still with them, Beregond and Anborn, keep a certain distance and act dumb. The idea must be to make the hobbits feel they're on their own and see how they respond. Frodo fears it will become an ordeal once they reach more familiar places, and of course that is the point. Will Frodo go into some kind of frenzy when he comes to the place where Faramir first overpowered them, or is he sufficiently healed that he can remain calm?
The other hobbits are being observed as well. Will Sam make sure Frodo takes his medicine, or will he yield to Merry's arguments? Will Merry try to hatch some absurd plot, or is he finally learning to follow the path others have set for them? Gandalf, Beregond, and Anborn are watching and listening, certainly, and Frodo suspects that Pippin too will be giving some kind of report to Faramir once they all return to Minas Tirith. All four accounts will then be compared in order to measure Pippin's truthfulness and loyalty.
As they walk on, Frodo watches all of this finally begin to register on Merry's face. It's a blessing that they still understand each other so well, after everything that's happened, because talking is often difficult for Frodo now, and talking out loud is dangerous. He remembers whispered words to each of the three. What he believed were confidences at the time were repeated back to him later and had to be examined and explained.
Frodo's next speech is addressed to Merry, but it is meant for all the spies as well. "Sam misses his Rosie," he says. "He tried telling me a few weeks ago, I think, in the garden."
"What happened? Was he afraid of upsetting you?"
"No, I think I was the one who was afraid." He tries to make his voice light. "Really I doubt anything could get me going now, what with all the herbs they've been feeding me." He'd hoped Merry might smile and is disappointed, but at least Frodo is getting the words out. "Things don't hit me with so much force anymore, and Sam knows that as well as anyone. Still, we'd already mentioned his family, and when I thought he was going to start talking about Rosie, it was…" he trails off, then begins again. "I'd been so focused on my own suffering these last months, and I just began thinking then about how much he's sacrificed in order to come with me, and to stay here with me while I went through all this... He doesn't really speak of it; none of you do." This gets him another startled look from Merry, but Frodo goes on. "He never told her he was going any farther away than Crickhollow, you know. I'd never thought of it, in all the excitement of the journey, but he'd never said anything to the Gaffer either, just as you never warned your parents, nor Pippin his."
Merry shrugs. "It didn't -- other things, secrecy I suppose, seemed more important at the time. Anyway, we had no idea what we were getting into, no notion we'd be gone this long."
"And what's it been now," Frodo asks, "nine months?"
"Closer to ten."
"They must think we're all dead."
Merry looks pained but smiles slightly. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," he says. "They knew Bilbo, after all."
"But think of the uncertainty of it," Frodo continues. "And you their only son and heir, and losing the rest of us at the same time. I can't even imagine…"
Merry is shaking his head.
"But of course you've thought about it," Frodo says. "I'm sorry to get so worked up and worry you any more. You understand what I mean though, don't you, Merry? You and Pippin and Sam all have people waiting for you back at home. He needs to marry Rosie and have a dozen babies or so, and you and Pippin have your own lives to lead, and you're stuck here because of me."
Merry looks like he wants to speak, but Frodo keeps talking, wanting to get the next part over with.
"I used to think I'd be locked up in that place for ever, but it's changing, you see? I'm… I suppose I'm getting better, as they said I would." Lying to Merry is not like lying to Analeth, Gandalf, or even Sam, any of the ones who expect this kind of talk from him. It is more painful, it feels like a betrayal; but at the same time Frodo knows it is not as serious, not a real lie, because Merry will be able to understand what Frodo really means. "I see Gandalf every day, and we talk, and I've been working so hard" -- his voice cracks on this -- "and it's actually making a difference, I think. And Sam learns everything he can from the healers, so they think he can take over for them when we leave. And they talk as if it could be soon, sometime in the next few months, while the weather is still good for traveling."
You understand what I mean though, don't you, Merry? We are putting on a lovely play, and the happier we seem to be today and tomorrow, the sooner they'll let me go. I know you mean well, but please, don't put my freedom and yours in jeopardy by arguing with Sam about whether I can skip a dose. We'll talk about it later, once we get away from here.
Merry understands, and there is no need for him to say so. He answers what Frodo has said aloud. "We can stay here as long as you need, Frodo. We don't mind being 'stuck' with you anywhere. But I'm glad you're thinking and talking about going home."
Looking ahead, Frodo sees that Gandalf and the others have stopped at the crown of a hill. Pippin and Beregond are spreading out blankets on the ground, and Gandalf is helping Sam to prepare a fire.
Frodo and Merry linger along the path, far enough away for them to pretend their conversation is private, even though Frodo is fairly sure it is not.
"And it's not only the three of us who have things to do there," Merry adds, "or loved ones missing us." He turns to face Frodo and look him in the eyes. "Mum and Dad love you," he says. "You know that, don't you? You know they'd like nothing better than to have you back with us at the Hall?"
Frodo smiles, for this does not come as a surprise. He tries to avoid the subject, but Gandalf likes to make him talk about it too: What will you do once you leave? Who will you be, back in the Shire? Why should we let you go? Frodo has been testing acceptable reactions; the thing is not to sound worried. "Thank you, Merry. I -- I don't know how much good I'll be to anyone at home after all this. But we'll work out the details when we get there." That's right, he'll accept whatever life gives him. "Who knows what Fatty's been up to at Crickhollow, or the S-Bs at Bag End, for that matter. I wouldn't be surprised if Lobelia and Lotho had torn up all the Hill by now, digging for treasures they thought Bilbo had hidden away. Can't you just see her, though? Directing the workers around with her umbrella?… but Merry, whatever is it? No, you can't cry over Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, I won't permit it."
It was only a few tears before, but now Merry sobs. Frodo tries to quiet him, unsure whether he cares more about ending his cousin's distress or about keeping up the pretense of easy contentment.
"It's you, Frodo. It's you talking like yourself, like you used to back when… I hadn't thought of the Sackville-Bagginses since we left."
"And me talking like me upsets you?"
"It's --" Merry hugs him and tries his turn at whispering, though his voice is unsteady and louder than he probably would like. "I miss you like this. Every time I think I'm getting a glimpse of my own dear Frodo, someone brings out some special tea, and it's like a curtain is drawn. You disappear again."
Frodo pulls away. "I understand," he says, "but it's harder than you think, doing without the tea. I'm not sure how to explain it, really, but it's tiring, being like this. I don't think I could stand it for more than an hour or two at a time. I can't think too much about what happened, you know. Or about what could have happened. I just can't seem to keep things together when I do."
And it's a struggle, Merry, it's a constant battle to keep my thoughts on the safe subjects, to keep my feelings off my face, to keep from screaming. To pretend there's a Shire to go home to and the world isn't about to end. To pretend that I don't want it back. But I'll tell you about that some other time, when Faramir's spies aren't listening, if such a time ever comes.
"Come on, let's quit this heavy talk and go get something to eat," says Frodo, starting up toward the little camp. "And no more arguing with Sam or anyone else about what I get to drink, or soon enough they'll be making you drink it as well."
Joking is allowed, even if there's a bit of resentment underneath. The thing is to appear cheerful and complacent. Frodo's getting better at it all the time. He smiles broadly as they reach the others.
"How I've missed your cooking, Sam," he says fondly, pleased to find something to say that is not only appropriate and upbeat but also true. "This smells wonderful. What is it you're preparing for us today?"
Sam looks up from the pot he has been stirring and smiles back at Frodo. "I'm making us another rabbit stew," he says happily. "More of it this time, for Anborn and Beregond have shot enough coneys for all of us, while we were walking. And I thought ahead enough to bring a few carrots and onions and taters this time, besides herbs from the garden." Frodo is frozen still. "You remember that day, don't you, Mr. Frodo? The day we ate in this same place together? And I saw an oliphaunt?"
It must have been arranged, Frodo thinks, trying to fight off the sudden terror. It must have been Gandalf's idea, or possibly Faramir's -- another part of the test. It cannot have been Sam's idea to call up the memory of their very last moments of freedom, the last time Frodo still hoped that it might be possible to carry out his quest. Along with the scent of the rich stew comes, of course, the memory of their discovery by Faramir, the person Frodo most hates in the world and the one he is expected to love as his personal rescuer from madness or death, and apart from that his ruler and, as the story is now told, savior of Gondor and all Middle-earth.
Frodo is aware of a silence. It is his turn to speak. Probably everyone is staring, waiting. Probably, whether Sam and the other hobbits realize it or not, everything depends on Frodo's behavior in these next few moments, his ability to stay in control. He seeks for words to fill the void.
"I remember, of course," he says haltingly. "It wasn't all bad, was it, Sam?" Is this the wrong thing to say? Does it sound as if he longs for the time before they met Faramir, when Frodo still held the Ring? "Our journey, I mean. We had a few good moments together. You'll have some adventures to tell folk when you get home. Did you ever imagine you and I would see an oliphaunt?"
He does not say, Folk will think you mad if you ever try to tell them. He does not say, I'll never try to tell them. No one needs any more proof to decide about me.
"What was that like then, Sam? I never tire of hearing you tell it," says Pippin. And thank the Valar for Pippin, who for all his acceptance of Faramir's word still loves Frodo and knows how to take a bit of the pressure off him at this moment.
Frodo has glimpsed a look of sudden and intense understanding, regret, and, yes, love from Sam. But Sam goes back to tending the stew and speaks of the Haradrim army, their exotic costumes, their incredible beasts of burden, then of the daring raid by Faramir and his men.
Frodo can still feel Gandalf's eyes on him but is relieved not to have to speak. He realizes that he is still holding Merry's hand and that his grip has tightened in his panic. He concentrates on relaxing his hand again, and turns to Merry with an attempt at a reassuring smile. Merry's concerned face tells Frodo that the attempt is a failed one, but Frodo still feels he is coping quite well. Look at me, he feels like saying, I'm not screaming. I may be crushing your hand, Merry, and my heart may be racing, but I'm not raging, not quite. Not yet.
Frodo has stopped listening to Sam's words through conscious effort, but he notices when they cease, recognizes the need for him to speak again.
"Good then, we'll have another picnic." Surely they don't expect him to have listened to closely to Sam's story, to add his own account. "How long do you think it will be before we eat, Sam?" How long can he possibly be expected to stand in this place?
"Might be another hour or so, to get it cooked just right."
"We'll have a nice chance to rest then," says Pippin. "Well deserved, after such traipsing about all day." Pippin isn't tired, obviously, but he understands that Frodo is. "Why don't you sit down with us, both of you." He motions to Frodo and Merry. Frodo finds his body so tense and stiff that it is difficult to walk the short distance to the blanket, harder still to sit down between his cousins, and Merry has to support him as he does.
A thought occurs to him. "Sam," he says, not daring to look at Sam or anyone else, "as long as we're just waiting here, do you suppose I could…" -- say it -- "Do you suppose I could have my tea now?" He senses glances exchanged between Sam and Gandalf, between Merry and Pippin, but still he stares down at the blanket. "I know I usually have it with meals, so maybe it's better to wait. I only thought… thought it might help me to relax, as long as we're here." His voice is tiny by the time he finishes. There is a pause, more exchanged glances. A nod, he thinks, from the wizard.
"A fine idea, Mr. Frodo," from Sam. "We usually do serve it with meals, but only because it's easier and the timing works out well that way. But Olegar's told me it makes no difference if you drink it with food or no. We might all have some tea while we wait for all these raw things to become a proper meal."
Gandalf and the other hobbits drink linden leaf tea in an endeavor to make Frodo feel more comfortable. Frodo continues to avoid eye contact with his friends, especially Merry, who clearly feels betrayed, and Gandalf, with whom Frodo knows he will have to discuss all of this later. He is unsure as to how his request will be interpreted. Is it wrong of him to try to take the timing of the dose into his own hands? Is he meant to trust others to make these decisions for him? Or mightn't he be praised for recognizing his own limitations, knowing when to ask them for help? But he cannot bring himself to care much for the consequences, certain that he could not have withstood another hour without this. Even before he touches the cup to his lips, he feels a genuine smile in them, calming to the familiar smell of the steam. He ignores the bitterness in Merry's eyes and in the tea itself. The drink has come to seem sweet to him, at least at times like these, when awareness of the world as it is becomes too much of a burden to bear without breaking.
There is more silence, but it no longer feels awkward to him. Frodo lies with his head in Pippin's lap while Pippin runs a hand slowly through his hair. Sam stirs the pot, Gandalf smokes, and Merry paces around at the edge of Frodo's vision, hands in his pockets, looking off in the distance and occasionally kicking at the grass. As the two soldiers walk off together, Frodo realizes for the first time that the taller one, Anborn, is the same man who carried Frodo on his horse, kept him immobile all along that dreadful ride from Osgiliath to Minas Tirith, one of the two who dragged him into the Houses of Healing and subdued him when he fought. Probably one of the group that beat him back at the beginning, though Frodo's memories of that event are less clear. He smiles at the new insight and thinks to wave, but it is easier not to move.
Frodo is fighting sleep by the time Sam begins dishing out the food, but the stew is quite good and it revives him somewhat. Anborn and Beregond take their part and withdraw again, while Gandalf and the four hobbits sit together.
"The last time Frodo and Sam were here," says Gandalf, "armies were grouping for what I feared would be the great battle of our time." Frodo thinks that it is just like this hard new Gandalf to try to ruin a good, simple meal with such grand words. "Faramir and his men were fighting bravely against the Haradrim, who were then our enemy. And Frodo and Sam were doing their own part. But now we are all on the same side." Frodo finishes his food and sets his plate aside, stretching out on the blanket. As it happens, he now looks at Merry, who has also stopped eating, even though, Frodo sees, he has not finished. Merry stares at the wizard and listens with growing agitation as the speech drags on. The information barely registers with Frodo: that Faramir, who managed to create an alliance between the lands of Gondor and Harad, will soon be crowned King of Gondor. That Theoden of Rohan has promised Faramir his niece, the Lady Eowyn, and that their marriage will unite those two kingdoms as well. That even Mordor itself is no longer their enemy, now that Faramir commands Sauron's Ring.
Frodo feels a brief thrill at this last, but it passes quickly. He loses track of what has been said and only wishes Merry wouldn't look so unhappy. After a little while, Frodo closes his eyes, and sleeps, and does not dream.
Frodo is not the only one to have slept. Sam and Pippin are rubbing their eyes when Gandalf rouses him. It's harder to tell with the others. They begin walking again, but it soon becomes clear that Frodo cannot be left to walk on his own. In the end, Gandalf and the men take turns carrying him, and as things are now Frodo feels no shame in it. His mind drifts and he remembers the first weeks after Rivendell, when Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas would often carry the hobbits, who took smaller steps and were unused to walking such distances. Those days had their own cares, and there was perhaps greater uncertainty then than there is now, but Frodo was more hopeful then. He believed in their quest and trusted his friends. It is pleasant and easy to pretend now that they are walking in the foothills of the Misty Mountains and not the Mountains of Shadow.
Meanwhile, part of his mind is also aware that they are taking the once secret path to Henneth Annûn. Anborn leads the way, the only one really familiar with this path. But since the enemy is no longer an enemy, there is no need to cover the visitors' eyes. Frodo relaxes in Anborn's arms, thinking of Aragorn, and it doesn't pain him to remember the other time he and Sam were led along this path, blindfolded and bound. No one needs to bother binding my hands anymore, he thinks dreamily. I'm a good patient. I ask nicely for my tea and I'm grateful for whatever they give me.
Inside the cave the light is dim, and at first the noise of the waterfall drowns out all other sounds. Frodo thinks this is beautiful.
However, he can tell that Merry is still troubled, and that Sam dislikes being back here and is worried for Frodo. Possibly the near thing before the meal made him realize how cruel all of the little journey is for Frodo, though he won't admit this in words. The other two are even making Pippin nervous. Frodo pities them but can't muster the energy to talk them out of their evil moods.
Merry says, loudly enough to carry some distance even over the roar of the water, "Gandalf, this is wrong of you. It's cruel to make Frodo and Sam spend the night in a place where they were held as prisoners."
Sam and I are still prisoners, Frodo thinks with amusement. No more cruel to have us sleep here than in my cell in the House of Healing from Madness or whatever they want to call it. He smiles and, without much hope of accomplishing anything, tries laying a finger on Merry's lips to quiet him.
Merry pulls Frodo's hand away, saying, "No, Frodo, I won't pretend it's all right just to make everyone feel better. I don't care who hears me, I can't bear to see them hurt you like this."
Dear, dear Merry, I thought you'd understood. "It doesn't hurt." Frodo manages to get these three words out, but his tongue is too heavy to add, You know Sam would never go along with anything that did.
Gandalf walks over to where the four hobbits are huddled together. "You needn't be afraid to speak your mind, Merry," he says, and Frodo registers the lie and the threat in his voice without feeling alarm. "The truth is that this area is no longer dangerous, and we might sleep outside as safely as in this cave. Frodo," he asks gravely, "would you prefer that?"
Frodo is confident of the correct answer this time and shakes his head as forcefully as he can. He tries to think of what to say and comes up with, "Like the waterfall." This will be taken as I like the waterfall, and that is close enough. What Frodo wishes he could make Merry understand is that the tea Sam gave him before dinner is as sublime and wonderful a thing as the waterfall. A cave might be a frightening place without it, and this particular cave could be terrifying, if you let yourself think too much about it. But if you can relax and live in the moment of it, there's really nothing to worry about. Within half an hour's time they've all become somewhat accustomed to the noise of the waterfall, and it's faded into the background. But all the time it is having an effect, working as a kind of shield. Battles could be being fought outside, but Frodo and his friends won't have to see or hear or worry about them, because they're safe inside, behind that thick curtain of water. And the drug works the same way. "Takes the edges off," Frodo says aloud. It wears off the sharp edges of reality in his mind.
But Merry does not understand as Frodo had hoped he would, and he moves away. Later in the evening Frodo is more awake and feels he might speak, but Merry is not in the mood to listen. Frodo knows not to insist. They sleep in the cave, behind the waterfall, and in the morning they start back toward the city.
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I blame your wonderful writings. You make it so vivid and real. I will have to be on a very special mood to read this. It might happen though. I know where to find this for a later time. *hugs*
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But thank you so very much for reading and for commenting! I'm really happy to have you here.
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*signs in to chat hopefully*
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I really do love angst, and this kind of story is what Frodo could have had to have endured. It was the risk he took, knowing that he could have gone mad. The story is testing my limits, but so far I'm perservering... :)
I am looking forward to the next chapter, and I'm so glad to have read this one.
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The next chapter's been to beta and should be up very soon, and I just need to work on the last one and probably make some changes to the eleventh to make them fit. Thank you so much for reading this! (But if you decide to drop out later I'll understand.)
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Frodo lowers his voice and murmurs, "Really, Merry, I'm supposed to be the one who's mad, or at least drugged out of my mind. You could stand to act with a little more sense than Mad Baggins, I should think."
I'm not quite sure if Merry really understands him. With so much lying and deceit, Merry's protest that night could be seen as him keeping in character with his past remarks, until he recognizes the "wisdom" of going along with the program. Sam, so clueless. Argh.
I loved Frodo's analysis of how everyone would be tested and judged. The thing that breaks my heart the most is that his cleverness really is directed towards the Ring. He only wants the Ring now; everything else is just a means to an end. *weeps*
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It's funny because I had the phrase "going along with the program" in the chapter but of course the beta told me to take another look at that. But I think there is wisdom to it, to playing along, only then you have to be careful not to fall for your own act and start believing it yourself, which is part of what Frodo's struggling here (and Merry in the next chapter).
I love what you say about Frodo here. Thank you so much for reading, Mariole.
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I am really enjoying the drama as it unfolds!!!
I'm so glad you are writing it again. I hope you have been well!
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