Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 11

Faramir lay on a large bed, his leg propped on two pillows. He
groaned mentally at being confined thusly, wanting to help in the
search for Frodo. He heard footsteps approaching and forced himself
to relax, closing his eyes and feigning sleep. When the
footsteps stopped at the entrance to his room and he felt eyes
lingering on him, he cautiously cracked his eyes open to see who
the visitor was. His eyes flew open upon seeing Aragorn leaning
against the door frame, smiling down at him.

"Aragorn! Have you found him? Is he well? Where is he? Can I not
go to him?" Faramir cried, rising up on his elbows.

Aragorn held his hands up to stop the onslaught of questions. He
smiled widely. "It would appear the sleeping draught ordered
has failed to accomplish it's goal," he said smiling.

"I held it in my mouth until the healer left, then spat it into the
chamber pot," Faramir declared irritably.

"I see. As to your many questions...yes, we found Frodo. He is down
the corridor and is doing well---better than we had hoped, at any
rate. But he has had some grievous wounds to attend to." Here
Aragorn's face became grim and he winced.
"We had to cauterize the stump of his ring finger," he said quietly.

"Sweet Eru," whispered Faramir. " He survived though, and is
recovering?" Faramir asked anxiously.

"Yes, he survived, but is far from healed, I fear. The fever has
exacted a great toll on his already frail health. He is very weak,
both from blood loss and the illness. We have him sedated and are
feeding him his medicines and broth through a feeding tube.
If we could but break the fever and stop the convulsions, there might
still be hope for a recovery," murmured Aragorn.
"You may see him, if the healer grants permission for you to rise,"
smiled Aragorn.

"Let them try and stop me." Faramir reached to the side of the bed
where a sturdy set of crutches stood against the wall, pulling
them to him. He sat up fully, swinging his legs over the side of the
bed. He paled visibly as dizziness threatened to overcome
him.

"Perhaps, you should have taken the tonic after all, my friend,"
Aragorn said with concern, reaching out to steady the steward.

"No...I am all right. It is merely a side effect of lying about, I am
sure. Give me but a moment to catch my breath. I will not
allow a little dizziness to keep me from seeing Frodo," he said
slowly.

Aragorn nodded, but still wondered if this was a wise course of
action. Faramir had probably lost more blood than he thought.
Perhaps he should recant the promised visit to see Frodo, and require him to stay in his bed. Faramir was a strong warrior, but Aragorn
feared by acting too hastily, he would reopen the wound and start the
bleeding anew. He watched him with concern as the color, once again,
began to infuse back into his pale face.

A noise behind him caused him to turn and he tried to choke back a
cry. Standing in Faramir's doorway was Merry, looking completely
drained, his face a rictus of pain, supporting the full weight of a
nearly unconscious Pippin, dressed in the full livery of Gondor.
Pippin was in obvious distress, his pale face coated in a sheen of
sweat, his eyes glazed and over bright. Pain was etched into his
small face as he stepped forwards on his good leg to address the King.

"PIPPIN! MERRY! What is the meaning of this! What are you doing
about?" exclaimed the King, more concerned than angered.

"He was insistent, and you know how he can be...how hard it is to stop
him when he's like that," panted Merry.

"Pippin! Your leg. Know you not what you have done? The bones were
knitting, now they could well be displaced and will need to be reset!"
The King knelt down and tried to gather Pippin to him. Pippin hopped
back shakily on his good leg, leaving the King with his arms
outstretched, yet empty.

"No...no you...see, Sire," he slurred. "I must...must...be allowed
to ...speak, please." It came out in a bare whisper, Pippin licking
his lips and slurring badly.

"My Lord, perhaps if he's allowed to speak we then could return him to
his room before further damage is done," Faramir said quietly, giving
Pippin a look of mingled astonishment yet open admiration and respect.
It must have meant a great deal to this little one, to have made the
long journey down the corridor to seek out his King, he thought.

Merry nodded, "Please, Strider, he needs to say what's on his mind
then we will return to our room. Will you not hear him?" he
asked, a pleading expression on his face. Merry was deeply
concerned about his Pip. As they had progressed down the
corridor, Pippin had become less and less talkative, until he had
stopped speaking altogether and all Merry could hear were
small sobs and moans with each successive step. By the time they had
reached Faramir's room, Pippin was leaning completely on Merry, a dead
weight in his arms.

The sound of running footsteps interrupted the meeting as Saleth and
another healer, appeared suddenly in the doorway behind
the two hobbits.

"My Lord. We went in to check on the Ringbearer and discovered only
he and Samwise, still both resting, in the room. We made for Captain
Faramir's room knowing that you would be here and of Master Took's
great desire to have an audience with you," he panted. He looked at
Pippin noting his current state of semi-consciousness, his eyes
lingering on the crushed leg.
"Oh....Eru save us," he murmured. He could see without even
approaching Pippin any closer, that he had re-fractured the broken leg,
blood saturated the leggings. He looked at Merry and saw, with deep
sadness, that Merry too, was in great pain from supporting the weight
of his cousin on his injured arm. "We must get them back to their
beds quickly and assess the damage," he urged reaching out towards
Pippin.

"No...not ..till..I've ... spoken with the...King," Pippin said
slowly, batting away the healer's outstretched hands..

"Very well, Master Took, speak," said Aragorn with mock sternness. He
wished to hasten this encounter and then see to the hobbits injuries.
He felt deep remorse knowing that he had, in all probability,
triggered this venture from the conversation he and Pip had had
earlier.

"Mer, you..must...help me," Pip said slowly, looking up into Merry's
eyes imploringly. "I need to kneel."

Merry gasped, tears running down his face, "No, Pip. You mustn't. It
will hurt you horribly. You will cause more damage to your poor leg!"
he cried.

"I must. I will do it without... you if you... won't.. help," he
slurred.

Merry wept as he grasped Pippin under his arms.
"Stubborn...hardheaded....Fool of a Took," he muttered through his
tears.
Slowly, Pippin was lowered down onto his good knee, the injured leg
stretched out behind him, useless. He let out a small wail
as he did so, the pain lancing through him like a dagger.

All who watched gasped in horror and made to reach for the small one.
Aragorn paled and grit his teeth, trying hard to keep from interfering
with what Pippin obviously felt, needed to be done. Saleth and
Faramir had unshed tears in their eyes as they looked, helplessly, on.

Merry was now openly sobbing. The sight of his small cousin, crumpled
on the floor at his feet, tearing at his heart.

Moaning, Pippin bit down hard on his lip, jolting himself back to
awareness and momentarily dimming the blackness as unconsciousness
threatened to overtake him.

"I have come...I have come," he swallowed hard, fighting to remain
conscious. "I have come to beg forgiveness from my friend and my
King. I doubted he who has protected and loved us throughout our long
journey. I was in error and did not understand. I am ashamed of my
words that were spoken in haste. Forgive me, my King. I have already
offered my sword up to Denethor, Steward of Gondor, but now wish to
offer my sword up to Aragorn, King of Gondor. I only hope he will
accept and forgive a small hobbit for his lapse of fealty," Pippin
slurred. He then produced the sword from his scabbard and held it
aloft to the King.

Aragorn was deeply moved, his eyes damp. He strove to speak with
authority, although his voice was husky with emotion.
"I accept your sword as King of Gondor and your oath of fealty and
allegiance. Rise, Peregrine Took, future Thain of the Shire. No
offense was taken by our prior conversation. I see only a dear friend
who has fought with valor in the defense of Gondor. Heavy battle
wounds have been inflicted upon him and his kin, and I am in his debt
for his faithful service." Aragorn smiled down at Pippin.

"Thank you, my Lord," Pippin said, smiling wanly. He made to rise,
with Merry's help, and stood shakily on his good leg. His green eyes
then glazed over, rolling up into his head. His body swayed, putting
its full weight on Merry. The King swept Pippin up into his arms
before he could bear down on his injured limb. Pippin then lost
consciousness, going limp in Aragorn's arms.
Merry was gently gathered up by Saleth and as one, he and Aragorn
hastily left Faramir's quarters. Faramir grasped the crutches,
scowling at the healer who made to stop him, and followed Saleth and
Aragorn as they swiftly moved down the corridor to the hobbits room.

TBC