Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 10
Aragorn stepped from the hobbits quarters and walked down the corridor, a man carrying a heavy burden. His head hung down and he did not acknowledge those who passed him. He had promised Faramir he would inform him when Frodo had been found, and that was where he now headed. He was bone weary from the hunt, capture and treatment of Frodo's injuries, but could not allow his emotions to be on open display. He looked up and spied a doorway leading into a small room and made for it, seeking solitude in order to better collect his thoughts and feelings as they threatened to overcome him. The room was lit by a solitary candle and, for a moment, he allowed his eyes to take in the scene before him. In the center of the room was a large table upon which sat flasks and various finely made glass containers. To one side of the glassware a fragrant concoction was brewing over a low burner. He stepped closer and recognized the heady aroma of athelas, a thick green goo was being distilled from the healing plant. After the distillation process the mixture would be used as a balm for wounds and cuts. Indeed, until Aragorn had requested the athelas for the treatment of the wounded on Pelennor field, the plant had rarely been found and was thought of only as a weed. Now, great stores of it hung drying from the rafters over Aragorn's head. After word had spread of how the King had used the plant to cure so many, the citizens had scoured the countryside and transplanted all they could find into the gardens at the Houses of Healing.
The room held the heavy aroma of drying flowers and vines. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet fragrance of the various drying herbs, roots and flowers used for the many maladies afflicting the patients who now resided there. A rich bouquet of lavender, calendula, athelas and mint intermixed with the loamy smell of various roots and tubers permeated the small storage room. He opened his eyes and surveyed the vast shelves lined with glass containers and vials of powders, dried leaves, elixirs, tonics and extracts all clearly marked so as to be found quickly by each healer.
Aragorn leaned against the wall and slipped slowly down to the floor. He finally could allow himself the release of the emotions that threatened to burst forth from him. He began to weep in earnest now that he was out of the public eye. It would not be seemly for the King to be seen as weak by the shedding of tears. It had been long since Aragorn had allowed himself the luxury of the emotion, always appearing grim and stoic to all he met. But now he was unable to stop the great surge of feelings that shook his body. Great sobs and gasps issued from his mouth. He remained like that for sometime until he felt totally spent. Once in control, he gathered himself up and, using a cloth from a basin of cool water, washed his face. Feeling more composed he made to leave the room, giving one last look back at the array of drying herbs. He inhaled deeply, one final time, drinking in the sweet bouquet. He closed the door and proceeded on down the corridor to Faramir's quarters.
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Saleth had had little recourse but to remain behind and care for his patient as the King had slowly exited the room. He was deeply concerned for the mental and physical well being of his Liege Lord. Pippin continued to weep while Merry spoke to him in soothing tones and finger combed his tangled curls. The weeping became sobs which became small hiccupping noises until finally the smallest one was all but silent.
"Saleth, please tell us all the details of Frodo's 'cure' so that we might better understand what we saw happening," he whispered.
"Very well, Master Periannath," he said slowly. "The Ringbearer was brought to us only moments before you awoke. His fever was very high and he was very weak. Much of the weakness, we felt, was due to blood loss as his ring finger was still bleeding profusely." He looked up and locked eyes with Pippin. "The Lord and I felt we had to decide on how best to serve Frodo. We could try to staunch the bleeding with bandages, but if he continued to bleed he would grow weaker and perish. Or we could cauterize the wound, stopping the bleeding once and for all, and then devote all of our efforts to curing him of the fever. We chose the latter. The King, and myself, were want to use this extreme measure but there was little recourse, and we needed to act quickly in order to save Master Baggin's life. That was when you awoke and saw what must have appeared to you, a great act of cruelty being inflicted upon your cousin." His eyes were sad as he turned back to his charge, now spooning small sips of broth into the funnel protruding from Frodo's pale lips. Pippin gazed at Frodo. His cousin was incased in pillows, blankets and gauzing. He was white as alabaster and his eyes lay half open, unseeing.
"How is he?" asked Pippin.
"He is doing better than we had chanced to hope. We have been giving him an assortment of teas to stem the pain and infection plus small amounts of broth to help him regain his strength," replied the healer. "I will be bathing him again shortly to try, once again, to break the fever."
As Saleth finished the feeding, he removed the funnel but left the reed in place. He turned and spoke to another healer and hot water was brought, mixed with cold and placed into a small copper tub. Gradually, he unwound the gauzing and pillows and set them aside to be reused as restraints once the Ringbearer was cleansed. Carefully, he and the other healer carried the limp form to the tub and gently began bathing him. Frodo sighed contentedly as the cool water and lavender soap were worked through his hair and over his body. The linens and blankets were changed as he soaked in the cool bath. After a few moments he was gathered up in fluffy towels, a clean nightshirt fitted over his small frame, and layed gently on the new bedding. Pillows and gauze were arranged as before, the restraints tied firmly yet gently to the bed's wooden railing. Saleth bent and examined the ring finger. Seeing that it was not infected, he reapplied the balm then re-bandaged it.
"The shaking has diminished somewhat, a good sign," Saleth said with a smile, aimed at his cousins. "He seems to be resting more calmly, yet we will still keep him sedated while the feeding tube is in place." Saleth reattached the funnel and a thin, white, watery brew was slowly spooned into it. This was followed by the athelas and willow bark teas, each flavored heavily with honey. "He should sleep for many hours. We will continue with more teas and broth a little later," he said, speaking with the other healer. As they conversed they turned and left the room and walked down the corridor.
Pippin and Merry had watched all of this with great interest. They were alone in the room now with Frodo, Gandalf having left to see how Captain Faramir was doing.
Pippin's face began to soften as he realized how badly he had misjudged Aragorn. An idea began to form in his mind, and he looked about the room. In the corner he spied his livery from the Steward. The hauberk had been polished until each of the small black rings glistened. The leggings had been cleaned and folded neatly, and the helm sat atop them, the small wings on its sides sparkling like jewels. He set his jaw and made to move off of the bed. Merry stopped him by pulling him against his chest.
"Pippin, what are you doing? You have to remain perfectly still until your leg heals or the bones won't set right," Merry said softly.
"No, Merry. I have made a grievous error and an injustice has been done to my very good friend, who is also my King. I need to apologize to Strider for the awful things I said. What he must think of me...," Pippin whispered his eyes tearing.
"No, you silly Took. He knows you didn't mean anything by it. You can't go off, stumbling around on one leg, trying to find him," Merry exclaimed.
Pippin's face clouded as he looked at Merry. "Yes, I must and I will, Merry. And if you won't help me then I'll just have to do it by myself," Pippin said, slowly slipping his legs over the edge of the bed until he touched the floor. His face paled and he broke out in a sweat, his arms and legs trembling with the effort. His vision clouded and black spots appeared before his eyes, he shook his head to clear them. Merry was trying to reach out to stop him, but Pippin would have none of it, hopping back on his good leg until he was out of reach. Merry decided to try reasoning with his cousin.
"Pippin," he said softly, "Please come back to bed. I can go fetch Aragorn for you."
Pippin, however, was beyond reason. He had decided he needed to find Strider to apologize, not wanting Strider to have to come to him. He hopped past Merry and approached his livery.
"PIPPIN!" Merry cried, jumping down from the bed, he grabbed his cousin and pulled him to him. Pippin leaned into him panting from the effort to reach his clothing.
"No, Merry. You don't understand," he gasped. A sheen of sweat now coated his face and hair, causing it to cling to his face. "I accused Strider of torturing Frodo and I *must* find him, not the other way around." He looked pleadingly at Merry. "Please, *help* me. I don't care about my leg right now, this is more important. Strider protected us and cared for us all through our journey, and I have done a great disservice to him that I can not live with." Pippins face took on a stern demeanor. Merry would have laughed to see his cousin so, if the situation were not so grim. "As a soldier of Gondor I demand you assist me!" he said with authority.
Merry's eyebrows went up at this, and a small smile played over his lips. "Very well, Pip. But there are conditions to me assisting you." Pippin looked skeptical. "I'm against this, but I know how you are when you get that look in your eye. First, you will need a crutch to walk with and you will lean the rest of your weight on me," he smiled grimly. "We'll go see Strider and then we'll come right back here, ok?"
Pippin gave a shaky nod.
"If we're very lucky Saleth will never know we were gone," Merry looked at Pippin hopefully.
Pippin smiled wanly, "Help me get dressed, Mer," he whispered.
Merry gave his cousin a sad look, and turned his face so Pip could not see the unshed tears in his eyes. "All right, Pip." he said trying to sound cheerful. He retrieved the livery and brought it to Pippin. Slowly he pulled the hauberk over Pip's nightshirt then added the surcoat with the symbol of the white tree on the front of it. He placed the helm on Pippin's sweaty head and gently helped Pippin step into the black leggings made especially for his cousin. Pippin blanched while getting into the leggings, the pain being excruciating. Tears silently flowed down his face. Merry's eyes dampened upon seeing the obvious pain Pippin was subjecting himself to, but he bit back the tears and instead smiled weakly up at his cousin.
"Ready Pip?" he asked with forced cheerfulness.
"Ready, I just need my scabbard," Pip said with a slur. He was having an increasingly difficult time fighting back the blackness that threatened to enfold him. The scabbard was placed on his belt and Merry placed Pip's arm about his shoulder. Pip leaned heavily on Merry, and using a small stick, balanced himself. Gamely, they hobbled across the room, glancing at Frodo as he slept, and exited their quarters. They began the long walk down the corridor to Faramir's room.
TBC
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