THE HEART OF A HEALER
By Tangelian Proudfoot



***

Authors Note:

I dont own any of the characters or places, they are all property of the Tolkien Estate, except for Tari, her horse Trifas and some minor characters over at the Prancing Pony, who were not mentioned in The Lord of the Rings. I dont make any money or profit whatsoever from my writing, I write simply because of my love of storytelling and the Lord of the Rings.


*Lots* of thanks and hugs to all of my proof readers!



***



2. Six is Company

When the first horse became visible, she was almost regretting her decision to stay. The rider appeared to be an old man, with a white, long beard and hair. But he was also robed in white, and his horse was the most magnificent steed she had ever seen; his coat was white as snow, and the long mane sparkled like silver.

Whoever this man was, he was definitely not human. She remembered another story she had heard at the Prancing Pony, about strange men who were of human form but possessors of wizardry and the ability to manipulate people's minds. There was no reason to believe that those rumours were false, with all the strange things that had happened in the country lately. This man might very well be one of them, and maybe he had just put the voices of approaching hobbits in her mind, to put her off her guard?

But it was too late to try to hide. Trifas had already seen the other horse, and now he was neighing loudly. The other horse responded; a neigh just as majestic as his stature. She took a deep breath, and her hand went to the bow. But... the man appeared to have an air of goodness surrounding him, and even though she couldn't see his eyes clearly yet, her initial fears were beginning to fade away.

A few moments later four other riders appeared. They were all riding chubby, stout looking ponies and were definitely of hobbit size. However, two of them seemed to be quite a bit taller than the other two, and they were all very uncharacteristically attired.

When the white-robed man came within conversation range, he halted and met her eyes with a slight smile on his face. "Good morning, lady," he greeted her politely, with a deep, but kind voice. "Not many people traveling this road in these days."

"Good morning, master," she answered. "And I agree, you are the first company of riders I've met in this area, ever since I set out."

By now, the hobbits had caught up with the old man, halting behind him. "Good morning, lady," they said in unison.

"Good morning, hobbits," she answered, eyeing them curiously.

She had never before seen hobbits so oddly dressed. One of the taller ones wore miniature armor; a golden helmet on his head. He appeared to be very young; it looked as he had not even come of age yet. The other tall one, who rode closest to him, was clad in a beautiful, silver-grey cloak and a shield, decorated with a magnificent white tree, rested against his left leg. He also had a beautiful silver horn. It was >obvious that he was the oldest of the two, though he was also very young. Even the third one was clad in a silver-grey cloak. He was the thinnest of them all, and rather odd looking for a hobbit; he had very high cheekbones and an unnaturally pale complexion, as if he was recovering from an illness. He also appeared to suffer most from the cold---his coat was very tightly wrapped around him, and only the fingers of his left hand stuck out from it, holding the reins. The fourth one appeared to be the most hobbitlike: chubby, red-cheeked and robust. He wore the same kind of cloak as the others. He seemed to stick very close to the pale one, in an almost protective way, suggesting that they were master and servant.

"I am Tari," she continued, "messenger of the council of Ellglade, a village of the Northern Chetwood. And now... if you don't mind me asking, but who are you? I've never before seen hobbits so far away from home, in this kind of attire, or in the company of... men...?" she added, a bit hesitantly, looking at the white-robed man.

The company smiled. "Amongst your people," the man continued, "I'm known as Gandalf, Gandalf the Wizard. And my travel companions here are all hobbits of the Shire. I am afraid, however, that our story is a bit too long to be told in an instant. We have been away for a very long time, and many things have happened along the way."

Gandalf the Wizard? She tried to restrain her surprised look. Yes indeed, he looked like she had imagined a wizard to look, however... in the tales of her people, and the hobbits of the Prancing Pony, wizards had always been manipulative, evil, and hungered for power. This wizard traveled together with a couple of hobbits, and they appeared to be the closest of friends....

The wizard turned to the hobbits, and they introduced themselves one by one.

"I am Peregrin Took, son of Paladin," the youngest said in a cheerful voice, "but I'm generally called Pippin, or just Pip."

"And my name is Meriadoc, Meriadoc Brandybuck, son of Saradoc" the one with the shield said, in a voice that appeared to be a little more mature, but yet very jovial, "though most people call me Merry."

"I am Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo," the pale one said, and it appeared it took him great effort to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Samwise Gamgee, son of Hamfast,", the chubby one said, and reading from his voice, it was clear that he considered himself to be of a lower class than the other hobbits.

"So... it *is* true then..." Tari said, smiling in amazement. "The tales of the hobbits at the Prancing Pony spoke of a couple of your kind, from the Shire, who set out for adventure a few years ago, and were supposed to have seen many beautiful lands and people, far, far away, but they never came back..."

"You know of the Prancing Pony?" Pippin asked, a surprised look on his face. "We were just talking about that inn! You know, we are heading for Bree now, and we can't wait to get there, with the food, and the ale... and the soft featherbeds! They're telling tales 'bout *us* there?"

Tari couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm heading for Bree myself, and I enjoy talking to the people of your kind when I stay at the inn. And I suppose they will have even more to talk about when you show up there in this attire!"

"Oh," Pippin continued happily in a proud voice, "these cloaks were a gift from the elves, and I was made a soldier of Gondor, so that is why I'm wearing armor now."

Tari gasped in astonishment. "Elves? You have had business with the elves?"

Samwise smiled, exchanging a look with Frodo, who was smiling back.

"Yes indeed," Pippin continued, "but also with the dwarves, men, and the Ents..."

"I've only seen one elf in my entire life..." Tari said, half to herself.

"Well," Gandalf said, lifting his arm in a welcoming gesture, "since we are heading the same way, why don't you ride with us for a while, and we can give you the full story?"

Tari hesitated for a moment. If she chose to travel with this company, she might finally get an answer to some of the questions that had been on her mind for so many years. They might be offering her the only clue she would ever get about her background and the nature of her ancestors. But on the other hand, she was already delayed, and this company was obviously riding at a very slow pace...

"I am afraid they are awaiting me in Bree," she said, "and the storm last night has already delayed us. However, if your story would be of any value to the librarians and the historians of my village, then perhaps my delay would be justified..."

"I am certain that this news would be of great value to them," the wizard assured her. "And we may travel at a slower pace," he smiled, "but with the hobbits getting closer to home, it won't take us too long."

"So, you are sure you wouldn't mind, then?" Tari asked, looking at the hobbits.

"No, not at all!" Pippin said, shaking his head.

"It would be a pleasure, " Merry filled in.

Frodo shook his head, smiling slightly, and Samwise, after taking a quick look at Frodo to assure himself that he approved of the decision, shook his head as well.

"As a matter of fact," Tari said, "Trifas, my horse, could do with some rest. I have been pretty hard on him during the last hours. I'm ready to leave at once, unless you are in need of rest."

"No," the company said in unison.

"We have only just started, after
a long night's sleep," Gandalf filled in. "And it appears that the weather is worsening, so we better get going."

"Very well," Tari said, and started to gather her things, pouring the remaining tea water over the camp fire.

Within a few moments she had eased her pack on her shoulders and hung her bow over her left arm. With a swift jump she mounted Trifas' saddle, patting him gently at the neck, and rode up at Gandalf's side.

It was clear that Trifas, who used to hold the highest rank among other horses, felt downright intimidated in the presence of the wizard's steed. He hardly dared to glance at him and was anxiously relying on Tari to tell him what to do and where to go.

"So, Tari..." Gandalf began in his deep voice. "How much do you know about the history of the elves?"

"Well..." Tari said, looking down. "To be honest... nothing at all. I've seen one, once, when I was very young, but that's all..."

"Indeed?" Gandalf gave her a questioning look. "When I first saw you, I almost thought you were of elvish blood, had it not been for your ears. Or at least that you had been spending time among them."

"I was adopted..." Tari began, a little hesitantly. "Found in the forest, and no one ever knew who my real parents were. Ever since I saw that elf, though, I have... suspected that I have some elvish blood in my veins... however... there was no way to really... find out."

"It sounds likely, then," Gandalf nodded. "And I will tell you all that I know about them and our mission, as long as you're willing to listen."

"I have no words to express my gratitude," Tari answered, her heart beating in excitement.


***

As they rode on, Gandalf slowly and patiently began to tell the tales and the legends of the elves of Middle-earth, starting at the very beginning, at a slow pace, encouraging her to ask many questions. Tari listened breathlessly, trying to memorise every word. Once again, it felt like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. This was indeed the history of her ancestors, and the key to who she actually was.

Most of the time, the hobbits rode a few feet behind them. They spoke only a little between each other, and they never interrupted Gandalf. Pippin appeared to be the most talkative, and sometimes he also burst out in spontaneous song or hummed in a soft voice. Merry often followed him. Frodo and Samwise were mostly quiet.

Because of the weather, their meals were eaten while they rode. They only took a brief break for lunch, allowing the horses to drink from a nearby stream. Tari noticed that Frodo had very little to eat; he left almost half the contents of the plate (that Samwise had put in front of him) to Pippin (whose appetite appeared to have no limits). That was a very curious behaviour for a hobbit, but would explain why he was so thin. As soon as they had dismounted, he took another blanket from his pack and wrapped it around himself. Still, only his left hand stuck out from underneath it when he ate, but his movements looked somewhat clumsy, as if he was in fact right-handed, but for some reason preferred to hide that hand under his cloak.

Samwise, though obviously not so badly affected by the cold, appeared to rub his nose very often, sniffling, when he thought that no one was watching. It could be the wind, but Tari suspected that he suffered from a mild cold and didn't want the others to notice.

Tari was somewhat surprised that the wizard seemed to have the same need for rest and food as any other human. Apparently, he ate the same food as the hobbits, and as much as was expected for a man of his size.

They finished their meal in haste and mounted their horses again. The wind had now become so fierce that Tari found it difficult to make out what Gandalf was actuallly saying, despite her sharp ears and his deep voice.

When they finally reached the woodlands and a more sheltered resting place, they decided to stay there for the night and at least try to sleep for a few hours, as long as it wasn't raining. As soon as the horses had been tended, they all sat down in front of a large campfire to take their evening meal.

Frodo was silent, and sat, as he had done at their previous meal, now huddled in two blankets, slowly eating from the plate in front of him with his left hand. He was staring into the fire with eyes that appeared to see things far away. He still looked very pale and cold. There seemed to be a strange air about him... an air of sadness, and loneliness, even when he was surrounded by his friends.

Samwise was sitting right beside him, and if he actually had a cold, it was nothing that had affected his appetite.

Pippin, however, had no problem with eating and making conversation at the same time. "So, Tari," he began, not caring the least that his mouth was stuffed, "since you spend a lot of time with our kinsmen at the Pony, you must've heard a great deal o' news from the Shire?"

Tari hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to worry these young hobbits, but the truth was, there had been fewer and fewer visitors from the Shire in the later months, and there were rumours going around about a large number of "Big People" crossing its borders, for reasons she could only guess. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I haven't met any Shire hobbits at all lately, so I don't know. There have been so many stories of robbers and people of evil intentions traveling these roads during the later days, that people have preferred to stay home, and your kind have never been very fond of traveling anyway, so..."

"Oh," Pippin said, obviously very disappointed.

"Some of my uncles used to visit that inn now and then," Merry continued. "I'm pretty certain that they've been there looking for news about us while we were away... and that started the stories, I suppose."

Tari nodded. "Most likely, yes."

There was a brief moment of silence, when only the sounds of the chewing hobbits and the crackling of the fire could be heard. Then, all of a sudden, Samwise gave up a sneeze, so loud that everyone winced, and Frodo snapped out of his thoughts, losing his grip on the blankets. He quickly gathered them again, but not before Tari could catch a glimpse of his right hand. A wave of compassion rose within her. His third finger was missing.

"I'm sorry, Sir", Samwise said apologetically, looking at Frodo.

"It's all right, Sam," Frodo said in a soft voice.

"Are ya' catching a cold?" Pippin asked, his mouth still stuffed.

"Tis nothin', " Sam murmured, "just a sneeze."

Pippin shrugged, and the hobbits soon turned their attention back to the food. Tari studied Frodo in silence. Once again, his thoughts appeared to wander far away, and it looked as he had to force himself to eat. What in the world could have happened to him, that had turned him into the shadow of a hobbit that he once must have been?

She had promised herself never to do it again. It would just cause her trouble and grief, and how could she possibly be of any help? Soon she would have to leave the company, and most likely she was never going to see any of them again. But he was a hobbit... and a rather young one at that. What could have caused him such grief?

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and made her decision. Then she turned to Frodo again, looking straight at him. Though distant, it only took him a few moments to notice her, his bright eyes widening a bit, meeting hers with a questioning look.

A light... a light as bright and clear as the beams of a thousand stars... the perspective changing; a tower, the light in the top of a tower, white and majestic, facing the sea... The sea... an endless horizon.... and so... the wind roaring... fierce waves rolling against the shore... the sky turning red... red as blood... and in the middle of it... flames, roaring flames, slowly merging into... a wheel... a great wheel of fire... burning everything in its way; the tower in flames now... And then... series of foul images flashing by against the flames... hideous creatures... distorted features... yellow fangs and evil laughter... dirty knives, held by hideous hands... the clashing sound of a whip, finding its target... Sam's face, tears running down his cheeks... "Master, why did you hurt me?" Digging... thin, grey fingers, frantically digging in the dirt... a creature, its face looking like a living dead; almost like a cranium; but with gloating eyes... its lips separating in a hissing laughter... lifting a hand in triumph... clasped in it a finger, still wearing a ring... everything consumed by the fire... the flames roaring, filling the sky now... and then, suddenly... darkness... a black sky... against the roaring sea... the ruins of a tower on the shore... the waves against a black wall... no, must not get over... must *not* get over... a small tree, its branches almost bare, but yet alive, struggling in the wind, in an empty land... yet, surrounded by a shadow... like a dense circle of smoke... guilt. And an icing, throbbing pain... like poisoned arrows through the shoulder...

Tari closed her eyes again, struggling to regain her self control and keep herself from trembling, knowing that he was watching her. She felt the tears burning behind her eyelids. Who could possible do such terrible things to this innocent, good hearted soul?

The visions could not tell her of Frodo's actual experiences, but she knew that he had made a great sacrifice, giving up himself for a greater good. But for some reason, he considered himself a failure, and now the feelings and the memories were consuming him from inside, where they lay buried deep....

Opening her eyes again, she found that he was still watching her with a curious look now, waiting for her to say something.

Trying to hide the overflowing compassion, she smiled, met his eyes for a brief moment again, stretching a little, and shifted position. "Feels good getting warm again," she heard herself saying.

Frodo nodded. "Indeed," he said, smiling slightly, his eyes then quickly returning to the fire. He was clearly demonstrating that he didn't wish to continue the conversation.

Tari held back a sigh. With his previous knowledge of the elves, he was probably suspicious of her behaviour, and it was possible that he had felt her attempt to look inside him and would never allow her to get near him again.

Sam rubbed his nose again, saying nothing.

A few moments passed. Frodo had obviously abandoned his plate, though it looked as he had barely touched the food. "Well," he said, looking at the others, "Now, if you excuse me, but I am rather tired..."

As he rouse from the ground, politely wishing the others a good night, Sam followed him, and they went to get the packs and seek out good spots for the bedrolls. Pippin had soon taken care of Frodo's plate, and following a smoke together with the wizard, he and Merry also headed for bed, leaving Tari and Gandalf alone by the campfire.

***

Frodo sighed, curling up under the heap of blankets, trying to get comfortable. Two extra blankets and he was still shivering... when was the last time he had felt really warm? He could not remember.

From a distance he could hear Gandalf speaking to that half-elf, or whatever she was, who suddenly had shown up from nowhere and just decided to join them. Why had Gandalf invited her, without even knowing who she was? All right, she might be a lonely lady, with endless days on the road and no company, but... there was... definitely something strange about her. A few moments ago, when they had been sitting around the fire, she had looked at him... and it had felt just as she had been able to see right into his heart...

Not the way Galadriel did, either... more like... she had done it out of compassion, and more like... as if she had wanted him to uncover his feelings... and openly talk about them.... And the frightening thing was, that for a moment... he had almost felt tempted to talk to her... as if she actually would understand....

He shuddered, shifting position again. He must try to avoid her... she must not get near him.... How he wished that she would leave soon... as if coming home was not hard enough in itself....

No, now he was being selfish again. Always so selfish...

He swallowed, fighting against the tears that were threatening to spill over now. Just a few more days...

Eventually sleep overtook him, and he fell into dark and troubled dreams.

***

"So," Gandalf said in his deep voice, puffing at his pipe, looking into the fire, assuming that Tari wanted him to continue the story. "Where were we?"

"Oh," Tari said, snapping out of her thoughts. "Well..."

She hesitated for a moment, looking toward the hobbits, who now all lay curled up on their bedrolls; Merry and Pippin next to each other and Frodo a bit apart from them with Sam at his feet. They were covered up in blankets, so she could not see their faces, but they all appeared to be asleep. "Excuse me for making you skip ahead," she continued, "but... I'm just wondering... what was... what were the hobbits'... and Frodo's part of- of your quest?"

Gandalf smiled, but there was a bit of sadness in his blue eyes when they met hers. "All right," he said. "I will skip ahead a little, and try to leave out some details, so it won't take all night. But then I must first tell you about the forging of the Great Rings..."

Tari listened in silence, while the wizard talked about Isildur's death, the return of the Shadow, and how the ring was found by Gollum. At the description of the creature, she recognised him from her vision, and shuddered. Frodo had felt both disgust and pity for him... why?

As Gandalf continued; telling about how Bilbo took the ring from Gollum, Bilbo's adoption of Frodo, the decision to destroy the ring and the forming of the fellowship, it became clear to Tari how much this ring affected its bearer, and what it actually meant to be forced to part with it...

"So it was Frodo who did it?" she asked in an almost whispering voice, meeting the wizard's eyes again. "He managed to destroy it?"

Gandalf nodded. "Yes..." he answered slowly, "Together with Samwise, he marched over the foul land of Mordor..."

"And that was how he lost his finger," Tari said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Gandalf nodded again. "So, you've noticed? Yes, the creature Gollum also had a part in the destruction..."

"I see," Tari said, looking into the fire.

She could almost see the scene in front of her now: Gollum biting Frodo's finger off, then falling into the flames, together with the ring... But Frodo was wearing it... and that must mean that he had meant to keep it for himself... that it had finally seized him... was this why he considered himself a failure?

The wizard smiled again. "I know you are concerned about Frodo," he said with sadness in his voice. "We all are. He has carried a great burden, and even though the burden itself is gone, the memories are still there."

"Has he ever... talked to anyone about it?"

Gandalf slowly shook his head. "He never talks a lot about himself, not even with Samwise I think, though they are the closest of friends. Afraid that people may worry about him. And we don't want to force him either..."

Tari sighed, and they were both quiet for a while, looking into the flames.

"Well..." Tari eventually said, breaking the silence, starting to rise. "I think I better get a few hours of sleep, anyway..."

"Sounds wise," Gandalf said, looking at the sky. "It won't be long until the rain comes, it seems."

"Goodnight," Tari said. "And thank you for everything you've done for me."

"You're welcome," Gandalf smiled. "You have a good heart, young lady, and it has been a great pleasure to travel with you."

After a brief check on Trifas, who still appeared to feel a bit intimidated by Shadowfax, Tari took out her bedroll and chose a spot a couple of feet away from the hobbits. Before she lay herself down, she took a last look at the sleeping hobbits. Frodo was curled up under a pile of blankets; only parts of his face were visible. Even in his sleep he looked cold, and she had to restrain a wish to touch him.

Why had she allowed herself to do this? There was no way she could help him, and her presence would only cause him more emotional strain... but still, she couldn't just pretend not to care.

When she finally fell asleep, listening to the whining sounds of the wind in the tree tops, it was not the scenes of the heroic deeds of her ancestors that played themselves in front of her inner eye, but the sight of a lonely hobbit, shivering in the cold...


To be continued....