Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 22

When Aragorn awoke, the room was in total darkness. He lay there trying to figure out what had woke him and trying to calculate how much time had elapsed while he had slept. He did not move, but allowed his eyes to turn towards the doorway.

A lone candle being carried by one of the healer apprentices, approached the bed. The King was all but invisible to the healer. Frodo was propped up on so many pillows that they masked the King’s presence in deep shadow. The woman was carrying a fresh flagon of water and a cup. She placed these articles on the sideboard, making to replace the old pitcher and cup with the new.

"Please...don’t," came a small voice.

"Master Baggins, I am sorry I woke you. I wanted to refresh your water for you," said the healer gently. Aragorn watched, hidden, wanting to see what transpired.

"No...I prefer the old pitcher and water," Frodo said slowly.

"But, Master Periannth, it will be stale from sitting. This fresh water is cool and will be more refreshing," the healer said, in obvious confusion. Perhaps, she thought, these Shire folk had different tastes for their refreshment that she did not understand. But she was confused as to why anyone would prefer older, flatter
water to cool, and fresh.

"No...I prefer the taste. Please leave it," the Ringbearer insisted.

"As you wish, Master," the healer replied now looking uncertain about
such a strange request.

"Will you help me? I would like a drink, please," Frodo asked. Aragorn detected a note of anxiety and even need, in the quavering voice. He frowned to himself, beginning to feel a niggling of dread regarding the motives of the Ringbearer.

"Of course, young Master," came the healers reply. She poured a cup of the stale water and moved to lift Frodo's head, pressing the cup to his lips.

Aragorn's hand shot out, grasping the healer's wrist in mid motion. Frodo cried out in surprise as did the healer. Aragorn leaned over Frodo, making himself visible to both.

"My Liege, you startled me," gasped the healer. Frodo's eyes were impossibly wide with fear.

"My pardon, dear Lady," said Aragorn with a slight bow of his head.

"Aragorn, what are you doing here? And why did you not reveal your presence," asked Frodo with a look of desperation towards the cup.

"I was resting with you to better monitor your life signs. I must have been more fatigued than I thought," Aragorn said slowly. He still grasped the woman's wrist in his, he released her and she stood up.

"My Liege, I was but giving the young Master a drink," she explained, still looking flustered and uncertain.

"You are a dedicated healer, my good woman. Do not be alarmed, *you* have done nothing wrong," said the King softly. Frodo noticed the inflection on the *you*.

"Please leave the cup on the sideboard beside the old pitcher, and light a few more tapers to dispel this darkness." The healer did as requested, still visibly shaken by the sudden appearance of the
King. "You may leave us," said Aragorn. "I will see to 'Master Baggins' now." Frodo noticed how Aragorn's eyes shifted slowly from the healer to lock with his, where they still remained.

"Yes, my Liege," she quickly bowed and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Aragorn, I truly am quite thirsty. May I have my water now?" Frodo's voice quavered.

"Of course, Frodo." Aragorn rose and walked to the fresh pitcher and cup and began to pour.

"No, I prefer the other, please." Frodo whispered nervously.

Aragorn slowly turned with the new cup in his hand and held Frodo's gaze grimly. "And why is that, Frodo? This water should do you just as well. Why are you so adamant about it being the other, older water?" He never took his eyes from Frodo's, now convinced that what he suspected was true, after all. He groaned inwardly and felt a
small shiver run up his spine.

"I am not adamant. I simply prefer it," snapped Frodo. He reached out for the cup himself with a shaking hand.

"I see, no need to become angry, my friend. Here, let me assist you." Frodo sighed and lay back on his pillows, eyes closing in relief. Aragorn took the cup and brought it to his own lips. Frodo's eyes
opened and when he saw Aragorn and what he intended to do, he cried out in frustration and fear.

"NO...IT IS MINE. GIVE IT TO ME!" Aragorn stopped. He dipped his index finger into the water and brought his finger to his mouth. The unmistakable bitter taste of poppy extract assaulted his taste buds.
He spat it on the floor and placed the cup back on the sideboard. At that moment Saleth entered. Frodo's eyes were wide in panic and need as he watched the two stand beside his bed, looking down at him,
Aragorn's eyes, still locked with Frodo's. Aragorn spoke softly.

"Saleth, we have a crucial decision to make regarding Frodo's care," he said slowly. Frodo shivered at the totally clinical way that Aragorn spoke of him as if he weren't in the room. An undercurrent of anger ran through the King's voice.

"Yes, my Lord. I have come in to check on him every hour, some six times..."

"Six..." Aragorn said, aghast.

"Yes, my Lord. You were exhausted so I tried not to wake you. At first I believed the same of the Ringbearer, but after the second hour, began to suspect other reasons as to why he would be so unreactive. I was unable to rouse him at each hour that I came in," said Saleth slowly.

A look of total fury came over Aragorn's features. He turned to Frodo and leaned over him, his face mere inches from Frodo's. He roughly grasped Frodo by the shoulders. "Do you want to die?" he said menacingly. Frodo's eyes grew even wider, he paled, his mouth trying to work a response that would not come.

"DO--YOU--WANT--TO--DIE!!! I asked you," shouted Aragorn into his
face, shaking him as he said each word.

"Aragorn...I.." began Frodo, terrified at this outburst from someone he knew and loved. He tried to creep backwards, towards the headboard and the other corner of the bed. Never had he felt truly frightened of
Aragorn excepting the first time they had met in Bree. Now he was frozen in terror at the sheer anger that Aragorn's eyes held as they bored into his own.

"We gave you the poppy extract for pain. Since you were in such agony, we gave you a fairly large dose every hour. Our fault. We should have known what could happen. Now, 'Master Baggins,' we will be doing this the hard way. You have shown a quality unknown to my friend Frodo Baggins, of the Shire---deceit. We shall wean you, but
not slowly, as planned. That seems only to prolong the cravings and agony of withdrawal, but abruptly so that you can finally be free from the clutches of this drug. You will be free to live a life of hope and beauty, as was meant for you," said Aragorn with sad determination.

Frodo's eyes suddenly lit with a burning fire, causing Aragorn to draw back slightly. This fire was borne of need, bitterness and desperation.

"Free to live a life of HOPE!," he fairly spat the words. He grabbed Aragorn's tunic with both hands, unmindful of the wrenching pain in his right hand. "Beauty? Peace? These words are foreign to me now. You know nothing, Aragorn son of Arathorn, of pain and torment. I have seen it first hand," he laughed bitterly, his eyes glinting with
madness. "Know you not of losing your soul to an inanimate object. Of craving, desperately for that object's return just so you can *feel* something, anything once again? How when the Ring was destroyed I felt it tear a gaping hole into my very being? Of knowing your life will NEVER be the same because of taking on a burden of your own free choice? I have been stabbed, bitten, and starved. Ravaged by Orcs, left for dead and endured the darkness both physical and mental. And while all of you will marry, have your families and lives unfold before you, I will not. I shall remain empty, a shell of my former self, dependent forever on the care of my friends, neither seeking or feeling happiness again in this life. You ask me if I wish to die? I say to you, I am already dead,
you simply have not buried me yet. The drug, that blessed, wonderful drug is all I have to gather comfort and peace to me. And you, *my friend*, wish to deprive me of it. My only recourse, the only bliss I can still feel, and you would take it from me," Frodo screamed into Aragorn's face. "Why not simply let me live that small lie. Let me have the small comfort of the drug, let me yet feel peace and happiness even if it is artificial and transitory?
I think I ask little of you. I do not care if it is good or bad. I only know it makes me *feel*. Better...yes, a giddy warmth I have not felt since this all began. An ecstasy I shall not find elsewhere. Why is it asking so much to allow 'Your Savior of Middle Earth' some modicum of comfort in what remains of his short life?" Frodo gasped
this last in a pleading voice. He was spent. He dropped his hands to the covers and fell back onto the pillows, his face covered in sweat, eyes wet with tears.

Aragorn was frozen in place for a few moments from the outburst. He thought on all that Frodo had said, a deep feeling of empathy and pity overwhelmed him. "I am sorry, Frodo, I can not. It is a lie, a lie that will eventually take all that you once were and replace it with only the drug, it will twine about your mind and being until there is
naught left," he said softly, tears filled his eyes and rolled down his face.

"My lie, my life, not yours," whispered Frodo. "Leave me, you are no friend of mine if you would allow me to suffer when there is a form of relief available to me of my choosing," he said bitterly and rolled to his side.

Saleth and Aragorn stood stunned at what their friend had been forced to become.

"We shall begin immediately," said Aragorn, raw emotion warring within him and coming through in a voice filled with sadness and defeat. "I want Valerian root teas given hourly with hypericum for the depression.
Also since Frodo can obviously tolerate speech, rich soups and custards, applesauce and steamed fruits. We need him to regain his strength for what is to come," he glanced at Frodo's back. "He is not to be left unattended, but I forbid Sam or the others, to see him until the worst of the symptoms abates, perhaps in three days time.

Saleth nodded in agreement and left to prepare all that would be needed. Aragorn rose, "I am sorry, Frodo. I do love and care for you, that is why we must do this, so that at least you will have a *choice* of which way to live your life. I know you do not believe me, but it is true none the less," he left the room. Frodo listened to all that was said and tears of frustration, anger, fear and most of all, loss, flowed from his blue eyes. He felt very
alone and forsaken. Why could they not see? None of it seemed to matter anymore and he prayed Eru would not let him survive the ordeal to come.

Aragorn met Sam in the corridor as he was heading into Frodo's room. "No Sam," said Aragorn clasping the gardener's shoulder.

"I heard Mr. Frodo scream and an awful ruckus from his room," said Sam worriedly.

"Yes Sam. We were....talking. You need to know something and it will be difficult for you to hear. Let us sit over there," he pointed to a small padded bench, "and discuss the matter," said Aragorn. Sam looked worriedly up at Aragorn's face, then at the closed door. He walked with the King, over to the bench.

"Frodo has been stealing the opiate elixir we were trying to wean him from." Sam's eyes grew wide at hearing this.

"That's not like Mr. Frodo. He's one of the most honest of hobbits, I cannot believe he would do such a thing," said Sam.

"Nevertheless, Sam, it is true. Addiction does strange things to those it enslaves. It makes them do things they would not normally do, say things they would never say. They will do anything to attain their goal of getting the drug they are addicted to. We are experiencing this with Frodo. He is bitter, depressed and desperate with need for the drug. He will do anything, say anything to get some, but we must not allow that, no matter what he
says or however much pain he feels," said Aragorn sadly.

"Pain? You mean to let him suffer?" said Sam, indignantly.

"I am sorry, Sam we will try to keep him as comfortable as possible, but for the next few days he will suffer from withdrawal from the drug. It is an actually physical pain his body will be feeling, and will be most unpleasant for him, I fear. But it must be done," Aragorn looked sadly at Sam's grieving face.

"Then I shall stay with him. He'll need his Sam, he will," he said.

"No Sam, I cannot allow it," said Aragorn softly. Sam's eyes flashed in anger.

"What? But he needs me, he can't do this alone. I can't simply sit and do nothin' for 'em," yelled Sam.

"Sam, you are his loyal servant and dear friend. You would refuse him nothing, am I correct?" asked Aragorn.

"Of course, I would do whatever needs to be doin' to make him comfortable. It's me job, as ya know, Mr. Strider," said Sam.

"That is my point. Frodo will do *anything* to get what he needs. And you will do *anything* to make him happy and comfortable. That is why I forbid you to see him." Sam's eyes grew wide in surprised anger.

"Mr. Strider, I'd never give 'em any of it, I promise," said Sam.

Aragorn smiled ruefully, "I believe you never intentionally would break your promise, Samwise. But I also know that Frodo is going to be very manipulative. He will say things to hurt you, or shame you into helping him. I will allow you to see him, with either myself or Saleth along side, perhaps tomorrow. You may have better luck getting him to eat or drink his teas, but I will not allow you in the room unescorted for today. He will likely be
violent and abusive tonight and you must trust me to know what is best, both for you and Frodo," he said softly. Sam only sat there. Slowly he nodded his head.

"I am sorry, Sam," said Aragorn. He rose and left Sam on the bench, returning to Frodo's room. Saleth was with Frodo trying to get him to eat. Frodo was refusing, physically batting at Saleth, soup was everywhere. Aragorn shut the door quietly behind him and locked it. Frodo watched him, eyes wide and frightened. As Aragorn approached Frodo tried to move away, into the corner.

"He is already beginning to show signs of paranoia. See also how he trembles? I fear we will be in for a very long night. We may have to restrain him."

"Later, first let's get him to eat, then a hobbit sized dose of Valerian root tea, perhaps a soothing bath and then we will discuss what is to come, my friend. We will do whatever we must to make this proceed smoothly, for Frodo's sake," he said softly. He looked at Frodo with kind, understanding eyes, crawled upon the bed
and pulled the small body to his chest. Frodo cried out a long wail "Sam....Sam help me..." and twisted against him. But Aragorn held him firm, whispering soothing words in the hobbit’s ear. He grasped his jaw
gently and opened the small mouth, then pinched the nose shut. The soup was spooned into the rRingbearer, allowing him a breath after each swallow, until gone. The tea was then brought, Frodo whimpered and
cried, "No...I'll be good, please don't hurt me...Sam....where are you, Sam..." The cries broke Aragorn's heart to hear how desperate and alone his friend sounded. The tea was fed to him, amongst his wails and gasps for air, until at last he began to calm, his body still trembling.

Outside in the corridor, a small hobbit pressed his wet cheek and right hand to the door, listening to the plaintive cries for help. He sobbed, knowing there was nothing he could do for the one he had
sworn his life too.

TBC