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Smoke and Mirrors  by lovethosehobbits

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Disclaimers: All characters, places and events are the sole property of the Tolkien Estate. I receive no money for this piece of fiction, only the satisfaction of writing about the land and peoples that he so beautifully depicted.

Smoke and Mirrors Chapter 38

Food. He was in search of a meal, as he soared across the landscape, a solitary witness to the rape and destruction of the once green and beautiful land below. There had once been food almost everywhere, so much so that he had never given it a second thought. But food, for the longest time now, was *all* he and his kind, had thought of; a daily struggle to collect even the most meager amount in order to keep his heart beating within his small chest. So many of his kind had already perished. He knew in some small place within his mind, that those that walked upon the land were the cause, yet he was incapable of laying blame of any kind. He only knew that his fellow hatchlings and, in turn, his own brood and mate, had fallen and ceased to be, in the months that the wingless ones had fought the great blackness that had covered and desecrated the land below him. He felt the ebb of life beginning to fade within his own body and knew that his time was growing short, that he would die without the necessary nourishment. He spied an opening in the stone wall he currently circled and with a last burst of precious energy, cautiously made for it. He landed with a flutter upon the sill and surveyed the room and its single occupant with a wary eye. Across the dim room sat a half eaten loaf of bread on a low table. He scrutinized the inhabitant of the room with a hesitancy born of instinct. The wingless occupant appeared to be resting. He was unusual; small, with dark hair, he lay perfectly still, and for one moment, the fledgling wondered if he too, had perished like so many of the other wingless ones he had seen far below as he soared above the fields. Sensing no immediate threat or danger from this small one, he flew across the room, landing upon the table. After another quick peek at the room's inhabitant, he began to devour small crumbs of the loaf, always keeping one eye upon the bed's occupant.

*****

A small fluttering sound, a gentle movement of the air, brought Frodo slowly from his slumber. For a moment, he left his eyes closed, drinking in the scent of the numerous flowers growing outside. Sam had gently coaxed the small shoots back to health in the garden below Frodo's window. A light breeze gently slipped through the window, bringing the heady aroma of roses, athelas, mint and elanor. It cut through the stale, sick room air like a knife, bringing a satisfied smile to Frodo's pale face. He subconsciously, began his morning ritual of taking a mental assessment of his body's aches and pains, and found that other than a small headache, he felt remarkably well. With a start, his eyes flew open. He felt *well*! For the first time in an age, he felt WELL! With a smile he lay in silent wonder that something as simple and common as felling "well", something most beings never even consciously *thought* of, and therefore, took for granted, could fill him with such a feeling of joy. A skittering sound brought him out of his reverie, and he looked across the room, noticing for the first time, the addition of his new roommate.

He chuckled softly, "Why, greetings my small friend," he whispered. The bird stopped his feasting and gazed uncertainly at the hobbit. Frodo could see that the bird was trying to decide between fleeing or continuing to feast. "You do not need to leave on my account, or fear me in any way, I assure you. You are most welcome. It has been long since I have had such a colorful visitor to talk to, especially one who will just listen, without comment, to the ramblings of the 'Ringbearer'," Frodo said quietly. The last word was spoken with a note of disdain. The bird listened, without once interrupting his meal, his eyes never leaving the speaker. Instinct made him remain alert, yet his hunger was great, so he stayed, listening to the strange clipped, yet lyrical, sounds coming from this particular wingless one.

"Oh, how I despise the title 'Ringbearer'," Frodo mused to himself. "But never mind me, you truly are a colorful little thing. I have seen so few of your kind about the city. I can only imagine how this war has affected you and your kind, or any animal for that matter," Frodo's eyes became sad and distant as he thought of the devastation of, not only his world, but of the land and its other inhabitants. He slowly turned his head and began to push himself up. His arms trembled violently, but eventually, he achieved his goal, and leaned back against the headboard. Panting and sweating, he looked about the room trying to find the small bird. He hadn't seen the bird flee, but imagined that he had startled it by his movements and caused it to depart. He sighed sadly and let his head fall back against the headboard, closing his eyes as he tried to quell the dizziness and nausea that assailed him. He wondered at his feelings of loss that the absence of the bird had caused. A light knock on the door caused him to slowly open his eyes. Sam entered and smiled at seeing his master sitting up.

"Mornin', sir," he said cheerily. "'Tis a beautiful day, what with all the flowers bloomin' and the sun showin' his face, it is," he chirped.

"That it is, Sam. How I would love to see all the fruits of your labors, my friend," Frodo smiled.

Sam blushed as he brought a tray of food to Frodo's bedside. "Twernt nothin', really. This city has lots of abandoned gardens, I jes' pulled out some o' the weeds so's the little flowers could show their colors, is all," he said shyly.

It was not lost on Frodo that his friend had lovingly tended the patch of ground beneath his window the most. Sam had worked diligently to plant and nurture the most fragrant and eye catching blooms, including many of Frodo's personal favorites, out of love for his master. Frodo smiled at Sam. How he loved the small gardener. Such a friend he had, to go through all that he had and care for him with such devotion. He felt unworthy of such a person and vowed to somehow, become well enough to show the gardener how much he appreciated him. Become well... he thought about that for a moment. Becoming well was what Sam wished most for him. It was a start, he thought. He decided he would make more of an effort to recover his health and strength, if only to make his friend happy. "What have you brought me today, Sam?" he asked. "I am actually a little hungry this morning," he lied, as he received a delighted smile from his friend.

"Let me see....we have some raspberries in sweet clotted cream, a nice cinnamon custard, a dish of applesauce with some buttered toast squares, and a nice tall glass of that orange juice you like so well." He looked expectantly into Frodo's eyes.

Frodo smiled, as he swallowed back the nausea that threatened him, "Sam, you are so good to me. It all sounds wonderful," his voice quavered causing Sam to look worriedly up at his face.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Frodo? Does somethin' not sound appealin'? If so, I'll make sure an remove it so's not to make ya ill..." Sam hurriedly searched the tray for the offending food item.

Frodo reached over and placed a thin hand on Sam's. "No Sam, it all sounds fine. I was just thinking about how much you do for me, how much you've *done* for me, and how I can never repay you for such devotion. If not for you, Sam, I doubt we would be here now," Frodo spoke in a whisper. He had tears in his eyes and looked away, hoping they had gone unnoticed.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I didn't do naught but what was needed or expected of me. 'Tis my job...an...well...if I was ta' be so bold, sir," Sam gulped and looked shyly down at his feet, "I would do anything for you, sir. I always felt, well, like we was almost like... 'erm... kinfolk... like brothers or even friends, mayhap," he hesitated, sure that he had overstepped and that Frodo would laugh at the audacity of his servant saying such a thing and send him away.

He risked a look up at Frodo, and saw that his master was looking lovingly back at him. "Yes, Sam," Frodo said tremulously, "that's just what it is. We are friends, the best of friends," he whispered with a smile. Sam beamed as he pulled his master to him and embraced him so tightly that Frodo gasped at the strength of the hug. He hugged Sam back as fiercely as was possible for his frail form. Sam quickly became aware of just how weak his master was and gently eased his bear hug and lay his master back upon the pillows. Frodo was panting slightly, but smiled reassuringly up at Sam.

"Well...we had better see to your breakfast sir, or it'll be nigh on inedible," Sam said huskily.

The flutter of wings caused Frodo to turn his head quickly towards the window. "Well, I wondered where you had got off to, and not even a by our leave given," he murmured gently. The bird cocked his head as if in question to the remark. Sam turned a questioning gaze at his master as he gaped at the small intruder. "Sam, allow me to introduce you to my newest friend. Bird, Sam...Sam, Bird," Frodo said with a smile. Sam smiled and bowed slowly so as not to startle the creature. The bird only cocked his head curiously at the gesture.

"Samwise Gamgee at your service, and your family's," Sam said, giving the standard greeting from the Shire.

"I caught this colorful inhabitant of the city, filching my bread this morning," Frodo smiled, but Sam frowned slightly, not liking the idea of anyone or anything taking food away from his master. "We had quite the conversation, mostly one sided, I'm afraid," Frodo winked and this made Sam giggle a bit. "Until he decided he had other business to attend to," he ended with a slight wistfulness.

"Why, Mr. Frodo, if I didn't know better, I'd say that upset you some, him leavin', an' all," Sam said with surprise.

Frodo looked up at Sam a bit abashed. "Well, Sam, in all honesty, it did make me feel a bit like being deserted, I suppose." He gave Sam an embarrassed look. "Sam, the whole time I carried the Ring, did you ever notice how animals, the horses and ponies, even birds, reacted to me?" Frodo asked quietly, his eyes moved slowly from the bird to Sam's face.

Being held in that earnest blue gaze, Sam swallowed thickly and looked away nervously. "'Twasn't you, Mr. Frodo, it was that Thing. They could feel the evil of it, they could," Sam said quickly. "You know that, sir. Animals 'ave always loved you. I remember once you even got a bird ta eat from your hand...that was somethin' ta see, I remember," Sam said earnestly and smiled at the memory.

"I remember that too, Sam." Frodo's eyes shifted back to the bird who was busy preening his feathers, giving them only cursory glances now. "I suppose that's why it is important, no, *very* important to me, Sam", Frodo's blue eyes shifted quickly back to the gardener's hazel ones with desperate intensity, "that they don't *sense* that evil still.

Sam's whole body jerked at this statement. That his kind and wonderful master, could even think that he still held some of the Ring's evil, was abhorrent to him. He released a gasp, causing the bird to move nervously down the windowsill away from them. Frodo reached out, without looking, and lightly laid his hand on Sam's to calm him. "Mr. Frodo, you are not evil. You are the kindest, most generous and gentlest of hobbits. I won't be standin' here listening to you say otherwise, 'cause it's simply not true, sir," Sam whispered vehemently.

"I appreciate your devotion, Sam, but you see how it is, don't you?" Frodo's eyes bore into Sam's, pleading for understanding. "I have to *know* if 'they' still sense something. If carrying and," he paused and swallowed hard, his eyes closed and he grimaced as if in pain, "wearing the Ring has changed me in such a way that they still *feel* the presence of evil." Sam eyes filled with tears and he made to refute this statement, but Frodo slowly held up his bandaged had to stop him. "Please Sam, I *have* to know. It is very important to me, my friend, whether you agree or not," Frodo's gaze was sad as he searched Sam's face. Slowly, he looked back towards the bird. The bird chirped a quick note, bringing a smile to the older hobbit's face. Sam smiled as well, just to see Frodo's face alight with a real smile, one that touched his eyes, not like the usual ones he used to placate and reassure those around him. He looked over at the bird. Frodo reached over to the tray, and broke off a small corner of the toast, placing it invitingly, at arms length from him, on the large bed. The bird followed his movements and eyed the toast warily. Sam subconsciously held his breath, praying that this small creature could somehow restore his master's belief in himself, with the simple act of accepting the morsel. Frodo stared, first expectantly, then sadly at the small visitor. He lay still as a statue seemingly willing the small animal to please, please, trust him and see him as something worthwhile and good instead of the dark, black, soulless thing that was the alternative. Just when Sam feared it was simply not to be, the bird swooped down and snatched the crumb as he flew up to the wall sconce above the sideboard. Frodo's face broke into a beatific smile, causing Sam to release the held breath and wonder at the look of relief on his master's face. "It's a start, Sam," he whispered.

"Aye, sir, that it is", Sam said with a look of relief.

"So... breakfast," Frodo looked at the seemingly endless array of food set before him, "I am absolutely famished," he said cheerily.

Sam beamed, and after securing a napkin, began feeding his master. Frodo allowed himself to be fed, like a small child, lying back against the pillows. He swallowed without tasting, whatever Sam put in his mouth, his eyes never leaving the bird perched across from him. Sam was amazed at how much food he was able to get into his master, silently thanking the bird for diverting this normally stubborn patient into eating without argument. Finally, even though the bird continued to hold his attentions, Frodo could take no more. He turned away with a groan, pushing the proffered food item towards Sam. "Oh Sam, what have you done to me," he groaned.

"Mr. Frodo, you've done right well, you have, sir, but you've still only eaten about half o' what I brought you," Sam smiled. He was delighted that Frodo had finally eaten more than his usual thimble full of food, and cared naught how or who he had to thank for it.

Frodo groaned again, "Oh, I am miserable," he said. Sam just smiled as he adjusted his master's pillows so that he could lie back and rest a bit. Frodo took a piece of left over toast from the tray as Sam made to remove it. Sam smiled knowingly.

"I think I'll jes' be leavin' you two gentlemen to be about your business," he said with a smirk.

"Thank you, Sam. For everything," Frodo smiled sleepily at his good friend.

"'Twas nothin', sir. Jes' doin' me job, was all," he smiled at Frodo with a look that said he now knew it was really much more than that. He walked slowly, so as not to disturb the newest member of the Fellowship, finally exiting the room and pulling the door gently closed.

"Well, my friend, it looks like it's just you and me, now," Frodo murmured sleepily. "What should we do to pass the time, do you think?" The bird studied him from his perch. Frodo broke off a corner of the toast and, after some consideration, crumbled it over the blankets that lay across his chest. He then waited to see if or when his new friend would come and take them. But the full stomach and his generally weakened state, contrived to work against him, and his eyes slowly drifted closed. He adjusted himself trying to ward off the tiredness that seemed to wash over him. Of their own accord, his eyes slowly slipped closed. Frodo could not fight the subtle song, sung just for him, that sleep wove through his body, and he slept. The bird watched the wingless one for some time, pondering whether there was a threat, or if it were safe to approach this unusual being. At last, he deemed it safe and flew to the footboard. He surveyed the bed's occupant, cocking his red head right then left. The being did not move or speak and the redhead decided to risk all, flying down to the crumbs laid on the blanket. He watched the small creature closely as he ate, rising and falling with each slow, steady breath the frail chest made, until all of the crumbs were gone. He continued to study the being, deciding that this particular wingless one would require more observation. He fluttered to the sill and without a backwards glance, flew from the room.






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