THE THREE TOWERS

Chapter 7 – What Might Have Been

“Nar – this little filth, he’ll wake up, in a few hours; and beyond feeling a bit sick for a bit, he’ll be all right.  Or would be, if Lugbúrz would let him alone.  And of course, beyond wondering where he is and what’s happened to him.”  ‘The Choices of Master Samwise’, The Two Towers

**

May 30

“I was running.”  Frodo’s voice was soft and his eyes unfocused.  Intent on what Gandalf was letting him see, he seemed unaware of his surroundings.  “I felt fresh air – oh, at last! – on my face.  I... I left Sam behind to deal with the eyes.  I left him.  How could I have done that?  I think the Ring was starting to get stronger.  It wanted to get out of that tunnel, get to... get to Him...”

“Gandalf, are you sure this is a good idea?” Sam whispered frantically.  Gandalf held one of Frodo’s hands, and Sam the other.  “He feels awful cold.”

“Sam, this is why he came all this way,” the wizard said quietly.  “Frodo is in... both places right now, the world of reality and the world of memory.”

“I heard something,” Frodo was saying.  “It came from the left.  What... something hit me, and I fell to the ground.  I thought it must be Sméagol.  But before I could...”  Suddenly he grimaced and turned pale.  “I was pressed to the ground, and felt a sharp... I felt it go into my neck, and slide deep inside, it was cold and horrid...”

Sam stifled a sob.  If only he had been able to keep up!  If only he had prevented that creature from reaching his master!

“It was dark and cold and I... it was so dark, and I was all alone in the dark, and there were eyes everywhere.  I dreamed that everyone was laughing at me, that I failed, and Sam was gone, and the Ring, and... and then after... it felt like days... something was shaking me... slapping my face.  My throat was burning, and someone was shaking me and laughing, and...”  Frodo’s breath came in gasps as one nightmare dissolved into another.  It was no longer dark, but his vision was blurred and the dizziness was nearly overwhelming.  He was being poked and slapped, pushed from one set of cruel arms to another, then tossed to the floor.  Everywhere there were eyes – cruel, cold eyes.  Har, look at him!  She must’ve bit him good!  He shuddered and convulsed, overcome with nausea.  Bein’ sick’s the least of your worries, little rat! 

Frodo suddenly fell to his knees, Gandalf and Sam still holding onto him.  He began to retch, and Legolas quickly pushed one of the buckets in front of him.

“Mithrandir,” the Elf murmured, “do you see what he sees?”  He pressed cool fingers to Frodo’s brow.

“Yes,” the wizard said, his face grave.  “Frodo’s memories are open to both of us.”

Even after he had emptied his stomach, Frodo continued retching uncontrollably.  He finally went limp, shivering.

“Sir,” Sam said desperately, “come back!”  He wiped his master’s mouth and urged him to drink.

Water.  Not that burning stuff.  Water...

“Frodo, can you hear me?” Gandalf asked softly.  “Do you know where you are?”

“Yes,” Frodo whispered, his eyes closed.  “It felt so real.  My neck hurts.  Dizzy... why...”

Aragorn took Legolas' place in front of Frodo.  He touched one hand to Frodo's wrist, and the other -- gently -- to the back of the hobbit's neck, which felt hot.

“Frodo, your body is reacting to what it remembers,” Aragorn said.  “Being confronted – by sword and searing light –angered Shelob, and caused her to consider you and Sam a serious threat.  To ensure that you were subdued, she may have injected you with a larger dose of venom than was usual to simply quiet her prey.”

“Sam,” Pippin asked in a hushed voice, “how large was that spider?”

“Maybe...” Sam looked around.  “Nearly as big as this room, Mr. Pippin.”

Finally, Frodo’s breathing calmed, and his eyes fluttered open.  He realized he was huddled against Gandalf, safe in the wizard’s arms; Sam and Aragorn knelt in the dust next to him, gazing at him with concern.  There were tears on Sam’s face.  Alcaren stood nearby, with soothing hands on Pippin and Merry’s shoulders.  His cousins looked stricken, Merry nearly frantic.

“I am sorry, Frodo,” Gandalf said.

“Don’t be,” Frodo replied.  “It’s what I wanted.”  He looked around the room.  “I remember waking up here.  The Orcs...” He shuddered.

“That’s enough for now,” Aragorn said firmly.  “We’ve plenty of time, Frodo; I want you to go downstairs and rest for a bit.”

"No," Frodo protested.  "There's still so much I have to..." He tried unsuccessfully to get to his feet, but the dizziness was too intense.  "All right," he sighed, sagging weakly against Gandalf.

“I’ve got you, my boy,” the wizard said, lifting Frodo gently into his arms.

Everyone began to file down the ladder until only Pippin and Merry remained.

“Aren’t you coming?” Pippin asked.  Merry stood still as a stone, deathly pale.  “What is it?”  Pippin ran to his cousin’s side and took his hand.  “You’re so cold!  Oh Merry, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Pip,” Merry whispered, “if the Orcs had taken us to Isengard... You saw how easily Gandalf helped Frodo remember.  Saruman’s a wizard, too.  He would have looked at our memories and had all our secrets out of us with no trouble at all.  He would have learned everything about Strider, and Frodo, and the Ring...”  He swallowed hard.  And then he would have let the Orcs have us.  “There wouldn’t have been any Sam to rescue us, Pip.”

“Strider would never have let that happen,” Pippin said fervently.  “He and Legolas and Gimli kept looking for us.  They followed and followed and never stopped.  And Gandalf had come back by then, too.  He would have ridden right up to that tower and broken Saruman’s staff, just like we saw him do, and freed us.”  He held tightly to his cousin’s hand.  “But none of that happened, Merry.  We weren’t meant to be captured; we were meant to be found by Treebeard, and made knights, and come here to be with Frodo.”

Merry closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  There’s nothing to be gained by dwelling on what might have been.  Or is there?  We made it back, even Frodo and Sam.  We’re all right.

“Merry?” Pippin asked anxiously.  “You know I’m right, don’t you?”

“You usually are.”  Merry opened his eyes and smiled, and Pippin grinned with relief.

“I’m ready now,” Merry said.  He took a good look around the room where Frodo had been held captive.  He realized that he never wanted to forget what had happened to any of them, nor what might have happened.  It was the only way to truly appreciate what it meant to be free, and to have helped others be free.  We made it back.  We’re all right.

“As difficult as this is for Frodo,” Merry said quietly, “I think I’m beginning to understand why he wanted to come back here.”

*~*~*~*~*

Gandalf carried Frodo slowly down the stairs to the first level, then settled him on a blanket among the bedrolls.  As he had known would happen, the moment he stepped back, Frodo was surrounded by hobbits.  Sam left his master’s side for a moment, then scurried back, holding a mug that steamed fragrantly.

“Here, sir.  And there’s more where that came from.  Gimli’s got the Men starting supper.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Frodo murmured, grateful for the hot tea.  The thick mug felt wonderfully solid in his hands.  “Oh Merry, that’s just wonderful.”  He sighed as his cousin began to gently rub the back of his neck.  “The pain... the memory of the pain is nearly gone.”

“I’m going to help them out over there,” Pippin declared, getting to his feet.  “You and Sam must both be starving.”  He strode over to the huge hearth, which blazed with pieces of crude furniture that Gimli had hacked apart for firewood.  Several of the Men had unpacked provisions from boxes and sacks, and were tending cooking pots.

“How’s your stomach, Mr. Frodo?”

“Much better.  Oh Sam, I hate to put you through this.  I do realize how difficult it is for you to be here.”

“It’s you who’s bein’ ‘put through this’,” Sam sighed.  “I wish you wouldn’t, sir.”

“I know.”

“Frodo...” Alcaren came over and knelt next to the hobbits.  “Are you well?”

“Yes,” Frodo assured him.  He looked away, embarrassed.  “I’m sorry you had to witness such a... spectacle.”

“What I witness, Frodo, is the courageous person you were, are, and will continue to be.  You carried out your duty, as Ringbearer, to the last of your strength and to the very brink of death.  And you have chosen to return to a place of great torment and remember what few others could bear.”

“But I’m no longer the Ringbearer, Alcaren,” Frodo said, troubled.  “I’m not sure who I am.”

“Frodo,” Alcaren said firmly, “when a guardsman or captain retires from service, he is perhaps no longer called by his rank; but is he not still the sum of all his experiences?  Does he not still carry within him the honor and respect he has earned?”

When Frodo didn’t answer, Alcaren got to his feet and started to leave.

“Alcaren,” Frodo called him back, “I’m glad you’re here.  I’m grateful that all of you are here.  I can’t imagine what it would have been like, coming back to this place, had the Men not have been willing to...”  He stopped, trying not to think about the pyre.

“I will tell them of your regard, Frodo,” Alcaren said, bowing slightly.  “They will be most pleased.”

*~*~*~*~*

It was late, Frodo assumed.  He lay wrapped in blankets between Merry and Sam, who – like nearly everyone else – were sound asleep in the large common-room.  Finally.  A few torches still burned, and the hearth glowed softly.

It had been a soothing evening.  Legolas sang of green lands that were, and the renewed lands yet to be, while Brengil and his comrades had been persuaded to tell tales of Boromir, their former captain.  To hear about Boromir from Men who respected him, and to learn more of who he had been... before, was unexpectedly healing for Frodo.

To Frodo’s relief, Sam had finally felt settled enough to eat something.  They sat with Aragorn and Gandalf for some time, sharing quiet talk that had been calming for both hobbits.

The nausea had gone, and Frodo had enjoyed and kept down a small portion of stew and bread.  Aragorn and Gandalf -- even Gimli -- hovered like mother hens until he assured them that he was recovering nicely.  The dizziness had also faded, along with the pain in his neck.

But he couldn’t sleep.  Disjointed flashes of memory, more vivid than before, continued to assail him.  Orc voices seemed to echo from the walls.  The Orcs had laughed and ridiculed him... had not even known what he was.

And what was I?

There was so much left to remember, and sort out, but...  I can’t put Sam through that again.  And Merry hardly spoke a word all evening.  Why should I put *anyone* through it again? 

Frodo sat up restlessly.

I can remember on my own, now, can’t I?  Gandalf opened the door, and now I can go through it by myself.  I have to go back up there -- now, when no one will notice I’m gone, or be distressed by whatever might happen when I let the memories come flooding back.

He suddenly pushed back the blankets, got to his feet, and left the room.  The guard at the door nodded to Frodo respectfully, but didn’t feel it was his place to question the Ringbearer about where he might be going.  The tower was secure, after all.

At the bottom of the stairs that led to the upper levels, Frodo hesitated.  He wouldn’t need a torch, since his night vision was still quite acute.  One good thing came from that cursed wound, anyway.

His feet weren’t feeling too badly, but surely another long climb up – and then back down – wouldn’t be good for them.  Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.  In the morning, he could...

But I’m no longer the Ringbearer, Alcaren.  I’m not sure who I am.

Frodo shook off his doubts and steeled himself for the climb. 

If Sam could endure these stairs to find me, I can endure them one more time... to find myself.

** TBC **

Andrea:  Thank you for your trust, Andrea.  I promise to take good care of everyone, including Frodo.  I wouldn’t put him, you, or myself through all this without a healing and gentle ending in mind.

Anonymous:  Indeed, pure-canon Frodo probably would have 'brushed off' the trauma of any lost or unclear memories and just gone home; but hopefully I'm making this "what if" scenario believable. Fanfiction lets us imagine... anything!

Antane:  Yes, Sam knows just where he belongs, doesn't he?

aprilkat:  Yes, that tower would have just been a vague idea to everyone, had they not accompanied Frodo and seen the place (and his experiences there) with their own eyes.

Baggins Babe:  You’re right, the Fellowship is definitely growing to include everyone who now loves and respects Frodo and his Companions.  A wonderful extended family!

Bodkin:  If it comforts you, Frodo will definitely come to understand that good memories can be buried along with the bad – and that the joy of remembering good things can balance out the angst of remembering bad things.

Cuthalion:  Oh yes, Sam shows his quality at every step, doesn’t he?  We all need a Sam in our lives.  :D

Dreamflower:  I’m trying to remember to add little details – such as the rubble and the dust -- and imagining what it might have really been like.

Frodo Baggins:  Oh dear, we might have to endure just a few more cliffhangers... hang in there...

Gentle Hobbit:  Thank you for highlighting the details you’re enjoying.  I’ve been thinking so hard about this story, for so long, it’s almost as if I can see everything happening in front of me.

harrowcat:  There’s no one quite like Sam, is there?  And yes, Pippin definitely has some unresolved issues regarding “those dratted stones”.  Eeee, this chapter is where the ‘gulp’ warning should start!

Larner:  Yes, Frodo would rather face the truth, and true memories, than be forever haunted by the vague and frightening half-memories he has now.

lbilover:  Nothing about this tale is easy for me to write (except for the more lighthearted moments and banter), but this story has been trying to get me to tell it for almost a year.

Lily Baggins:  What is this obsession of mine to fill in canon-gaps?  It’s such fun, but boy, does it take a lot of research.  Thanks so much for your lovely reviews, Lily.  But omigosh, a sequel?  I suspect I’ll be more traumatized than Frodo when this story is over!

Linda Hoyland:  I doubt the soldiers of Minas Tirith ever imagined a ruler such as King Elessar -- something that will come up again in the next chapter, I think.

lotrgirl1415:  I have a limited angst-threshold, so things won’t get too bad!  (Or if they do, I promise that everything will work out in the end...)

Queen Galadriel:  Thank you for your trust!  Everyone and everything will be fine by the end of the story.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sila Lumenn:  I enjoy basing a story in canon, as much as possible.  And now we have the films and fanfiction, making the Tale of Middle-earth even more infinitely expandable and fun to imagine.

SlightlyTookish:  I love bringing Alcaren into this “family”, which will be expanded even more before the end of the story.

SurgicalSteel:  I don’t think the Professor really 'closed the book' on what happened to Shelob.  Is she or isn’t she?  Maybe it’s scarier not knowing...  And oh yes, Gimli now has whatever closure was available to him regarding Snaga... I suspect he’ll sleep easier now.