THE THREE TOWERS

Chapter 8 – The Return of the King

But when Aragorn arose all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them now for the first time.  Tall as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him.  And then Faramir cried:  “Behold the King!”  ‘The Steward and the King’, The Return of the King

**

May 30

“He is a beauty,” Alcaren said in admiration.

“He is a rascal,” Aragorn chuckled.  “But we have been through much together.”  He stroked Brego’s long nose fondly, then turned to the magnificent, silver-white horse calmly watching them.  “Perhaps Shadowfax will teach him some manners while they are together.”

“I had never imagined such a one as he,” Alcaren said, gazing at Shadowfax.  “It is the age of legends come to life.”

Aragorn bid goodnight in Elvish to Brego and Shadowfax, and gave Stybba a gentle pat.  He and Alcaren made a final check that the horses were well settled, then stood together out in the courtyard.  The night sky glittered above them.

“It is many years since stars were seen above Mordor,” Aragorn said.  “Long has the air been choked with fumes, and from the growing shadow of the Dark Lord.”

Alcaren suddenly noticed a rare sight.  “Your jewel...” he said in awe.  “It appears to reflect the light of the stars from within its depths.”

Aragorn nodded, and reverently touched the great emerald pinned to his cloak.  “It reacts differently to sun, moon, and starlight.”

Alcaren was suddenly struck by where he was, and with whom.  I stand here with the King.  He marveled at the thought.

A chill breeze blew through the courtyard, picking up swirls of ash and dust.

“There is rain in the air,” Alcaren said absently.  “Perhaps tomorrow evening...”

“Not many would sense that.”

“So I have learned,” Alcaren said quietly.  “I do not often speak of such things.  For as long as I can remember, I have felt more at home out of doors than within City walls.  I sometimes know things... that others do not.”

“The hobbits may recognize in you a kindred spirit.  They are nearly as attuned to nature as the Elves.”  Aragorn grew thoughtful.  “They do not trust easily, Alcaren; they find many Men to be loud and ungraceful, and difficult to understand – including myself, when first we met.”

“You and your Companions honor me with your friendship, Sire,” Alcaren murmured.  “An empty heart is not easily filled.”

“I have heard that your wife was carried off by illness,” Aragorn said softly.  “Do you believe you will ever marry again?”

“Perhaps someday,” Alcaren sighed.  “I am still trying... to forget.”

“And Frodo is trying to remember.  You may have something to teach one another.”

“I do not doubt that Frodo can teach all of us many things,” Alcaren said gravely.  “My lord, what do you believe will happen tomorrow?  Has he found what he sought?”

“Not yet,” Aragorn said definitely.  “Frodo has an intelligent, scholar’s mind, and an unusual degree of determination.  He will pursue whatever memories he can retrieve, no matter what the cost to himself.  Only when he feels he has learned whatever this place has to teach him will he be satisfied, and be willing to return to Minas Tirith.”  He stretched wearily.

“You should go to your rest,” Alcaren said respectfully.  “Morning will come soon enough.”

“You are right,” Aragorn smiled.  “Pippin and Sam will be up at sunrise, hurrying up breakfast.”  He and Alcaren walked back into the tower.  As they approached the common-room, the guard stepped forward to greet them.

“All is well within, Sire.  However, the Ringbearer is abroad.”

“Where did he go?” Alcaren asked quickly.  “How long has he been gone?”

“He went up the staircase, alone,” the guard replied, “perhaps an hour ago.”

“I should have anticipated this,” Aragorn sighed.  “Did he take anything with him?  A water bottle, or a torch?”

“Nothing; not even his cloak against the night air.”  The guard stood tensely.  “Should I have insisted on accompanying him?”

“No.  You had no orders to do so.  If Frodo went alone, it means that he did not wish for any companions; and I suspect I know why.  However, I would like to observe that he is safe – from where he does not know he is being watched, if necessary.”

“I will go with you,” Alcaren said at once.  “Please, my lord, wait long enough for me get some water, and Frodo’s cloak.”

“He may need more than that,” Aragorn murmured thoughtfully.  “Alcaren, see if you can wake Sam without disturbing the others.  I believe he should come with us.”

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo winced as each rung of the ladder pressed into the bottoms of his feet.  Aragorn probably won’t let me walk for a month, after this, he thought ruefully.  I had to come, though... I had to.  He finally reached the turret room, his feet throbbing.  The chamber was quiet and still, lit faintly by the starlight coming through the narrow windows.  The air was cold, and Frodo regretted not remembering to wear his Lórien cloak.

“Who dressed this little rat in such fine clothes, eh?”

Frodo gasped and spun around, but he was alone.

“It’s not real,” he whispered reassuringly.  “There are no more Orcs.  It’s only a memory.  But that’s why I came, isn’t it?  To remember?”  He sat on the floor next to the pile of filthy rags, and leaned back against the wall.  I woke up sick and dizzy, he thought, concentrating on the cascade of memories Gandalf had opened for him.  He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself to stay warm.  It was cold then, too.  They were tossing me about and laughing, and I couldn’t stop shivering and I was so afraid...

“What are you?”

Frodo gasped in horror as cruel, cold eyes peered at him from every direction.

“Why are you here?”

Don’t tell them, don’t tell.  How did I get here?  Frodo was helpless to resist as claws and knives ripped apart his clothing.

“Look at that!  Such a pretty shirt for a filthy spy!”

The mithril shirt was pulled roughly over his head, and he was tossed aside as a wild howling broke forth from the assembled Orcs.

Bilbo’s shirt!  He trusted me with... The... the Ring!  Did they get it?  They must have it!  The Council trusted me... No no!  Is this just another nightmare?  Where’s Sam?

“Don’t hurt him; orders are to deliver all spies, in good shape to question, and all their possessions.  Give me that shirt.”

“Har, why should you get it?  And where did you steal it from, little rat?  Is this what the Boss is looking for?  What are you, anyway?”

“We’ll find out.”

Frodo looked up in terror as two enormous Orcs loomed over him, waving long knives.

This isn’t real.  This is a memory.  Frodo’s vision blurred, and the Orc forms flickered for a moment before becoming solid once more.

“Can he talk?  What is he?”

“Who knows?  Who cares?  ’Ere, the sun’s coming up; we’re going below.  See what you can find out.  And don’t starve or cut him, see?  He’s to be delivered in good shape.  Orders.”

“She bit him good, didn’t she?  Look at him shivering.  You cold, little rat?  ’Ere, give him more of that brew; he’s got a lot of talking to do.”

Frodo gagged and his throat burned as he was forced to drink.  He tried to focus on the two brutes bending over him.  He wouldn’t tell them anything.  They had the Ring, what more did they want?  What hope was left?

No, this isn’t real!  How do I stop this?  How do I get back?

*~*~*~*~*

Alcaren hurried into the common-room to find Sam already awake.  The hobbit was sitting up, looking worriedly around the room.

“Sam,” Alcaren whispered, kneeling next to him, “will you come with me?  The King is just outside the door, and requests your presence.”

“Where’s Mr. Frodo?” Sam whispered urgently.  “Is he all right?”  He reached for his cloak, and saw that Frodo’s was still neatly folded next to his.

“The King will explain,” Alcaren replied, wishing he had more information to give.  As Sam scrambled to his feet, Alcaren gathered up Frodo’s cloak and water bottle and, on an impulse, one of the blankets.  His actions took mere seconds, but by the time he stood up, Sam had dashed across the room and was out the door to where Aragorn and the guard waited.

“Where is he?” Sam asked, gazing up at the King in alarm.  “What’s happened?”

“Sam,” Aragorn said gently, crouching down, “Frodo went up the stairs about an hour ago.  That is all we know.”

“Alone?” Sam gasped.

“He obviously meant to go back up there alone; he may not wish for anyone to be with him.”

“But you saw him before, with Gandalf,” Sam insisted.  “He didn’t even know where he was.  What if he gets lost in some awful...”  His eyes widened in fear at the thought of his master re-living the Orcs’ interrogation, being whipped...  “Strider,” he cried out, “I won’t let Mr. Frodo go through that alone, not again.  We have to---”

“We are,” Aragorn said firmly.  He stood up and addressed the guard, who was staring at him.  “Tirthor, you did nothing wrong.”  He clasped the man on the arm.  “You have stood here for many hours; will you be relieved soon?”

“Yes, Sire,” the guard replied.  King Elessar knows my name, he thought dazedly.  He looks to our welfare as would our captain.  Lord Denethor had barely acknowledged his – or his fellows’ – existence.  For the first time, he fully realized the measure and quality of their new king.  Never had he dreamed that such a ruler as this could exist.

Alcaren joined them, a small pack slung over his shoulder, and he and Aragorn followed a frantic Sam to the staircase.  Aragorn took two torches from their wall holders and, handing one to Alcaren, they began to climb.

A few minutes later Brengil emerged from the common-room, fastening his sword at his side.

“It is my watch, Tirthor,” he said.  “Is anything amiss?  I saw Alcaren come for Master Samwise.”

“They – and the King – are on their way to the top level,” Tirthor told him.  “The Ringbearer went up alone, and they wish to ensure that he is safe.”

“That upper chamber is said to be a place of evil memories for Master Frodo,” Brengil said, concerned.  “I hope he will be all right.”

“He will be.”

“You sound quite certain of that.”

“I am,” Tirthor said, with a confidence that he knew would never leave him.  “Our King will be with him.”

** TBC **

Andrea:  Merry is very sharp, and I imagine him as someone who quietly takes in everything around him and comes to his own, very perceptive, conclusions.

aprilkat:  Thank you so much.  Chapters 7 and 8 were very difficult for me to write.  And this journey will bring a degree of closure (or at least new insight) for nearly everyone.

Baggins Babe:  The worst of the angst is over, BB!  I had to rush through it to spare myself Frodo.  :D

Bodkin:  Frodo – like all of us – must be true to his nature.  And trying to spare his friends danger or worry is definitely his nature.

Dreamflower:  I just can’t see anything permanently marring Pippin’s optimism!  Thank you so much for feeling that everyone’s reactions in Chapter 7 were in character; it wasn’t an easy chapter for me to write.

Elanor Silmariën:  I can’t imagine writing a Fellowship story where the hobbits weren’t caring for one another.  I love surrounding Frodo with supportive and gentle friends.  And Alcaren reminds me of Faramir, too.  Faramir is the one who originally assigned Alcaren as the hobbits’ guard and helper, and I suspect he picked someone he felt would make the hobbits feel comfortable and safe.

Frodo Baggins:  I don’t enjoy writing stories that stay too angsty for too long.  Thank you for enjoying this.  I really am updating as quickly as I can manage! :D

harrowcat:  Frodo does have a habit of trying to leave his friends behind, for their own good.  It rarely works, does it?

Larner:  Much of this story is evolving organically, as I try to imagine what someone’s reaction or actions would be, in this situation.  I’m glad it’s ringing true.

lbilover:  There are so many what-ifs in the books!  What a joy to be able to find creative ways to explore them... and even more of a joy to have folks to share them with.

Lily:  What a surprise!  Several “someone’s” did make up their minds to follow him!

Linda Hoyland:  Thank you, Linda.  Yes, it’s chilling to imagine what “might have been”, regarding Pippin and Merry.  It’s probably something they would both be wise not to dwell on too much.

Lotrgirl1415:  I have a fangirl!  I love your enthusiasm.  And I’ll be sad when this story’s over, too; every story is very special to me.

Pearl Took:  I’m trying to write this story somewhat in layers, as everyone on the journey is discovering different things, in different ways.  I like opening up tiny subplots (such as Pippin’s thoughts about the palantir) and finding a way to tie up all the loose ends by the end of the story.  And... Pippin’s asleep, is where he is!  Shhhhh, don’t wake him...

Periantari:  Thank you for highlighting those lines, which I really like, too!  Oh good, maybe Frodo won’t feel nearly so alone if you’re with him.  :D

Queen Galadriel:  Darn that Frodo and his selfless attitude!  Silly hobbit.  I think that’s why his friends (and we) love him so much.

SlightlyTookish:  Merry would have done a lot of thinking about everything that did – and didn’t – happen to him and Pippin.  It’s easy to imagine that it would be Pippin who would relieve his cousin’s distress about “what might have been”.

SurgicalSteel:  Yes, I think that tiny scene is as close as I’ll ever choose to speculate about what might have happened had Saruman actually captured Merry and Pippin.

Tigger:  When Sam overheard the Orcs saying that Frodo would feel “a bit sick” when he awoke, I got to thinking about how he really might have felt.  Hobbits are so small, and Shelob was really very dangerous.