This is a repost...I had to go back and clean it up a bit since this was my first attempt. Sorry about the formatting...who knows why it turned out that way?
Smoke and Mirrors
Chapter One
Intense pain. All he could feel was the pain. Like a knife in his
his neck as it traveled down his spine. The agony overcame him
and he released a feral scream that seemed to take the last breath
from his body. Hands. Voices. ORCS!! A figure towered over him
speaking the dark language. He tried to pull away, but could do
little except curl in on himself and hope that somehow, he would
simply cease to be in the eyes of the foul creature. But as he
pulled away, another agonized scream tore from his parched lips. The pain
was a living breathing entity seemingly having a life of it‘s own,
stabbing relentlessly along the back of his head, neck and back. He
was sure that if he were to look back he would see a fell
blades protruding from his spine. The orc loomed closer trying to
uncurl his small frame, he screamed again and then all went black as he lost consciousness; paradise compared to the preceding moments.
"Frodo...Frodo, be at peace. I am a healer. My name is Saleth and I am
going to bathe you to try and lower your fever," The Ringbearer cringed in terror, his blue eyes impossibly wide and his face a canvas of torment and anguish. Saleth again tried to gather the small being into his arms,
to straighten his legs and cool him with the scented cloths,
but Frodo continued to fight him weakly. He keened a high
wail before losing consciousness once more.
"How is he fairing, Saleth?" A husky voice inquired from behind the
healer.
"He is in great pain and has a high fever, my King." Saleth bowed to
his liege lord.
Aragorn dismissed the action with a wave of his hand. "What is the
cause of his suffering? I know he has endured much, and carries many
wounds but this seems extreme, even with the injuries he has already
sustained," said Aragorn asked, looking concernedly at his small friend.
His hand went to Frodo's forehead, and drew back quickly. He looked
with alarm at Saleth.
"Have you examined him thoroughly?" he asked.
"I have, my Lord. He is extremely undernourished and has numerous
abrasions, including whip welts on his torso, an odd bite mark on the
back of his neck, and then there's the missing ring finger. I have
had a great deal of difficulty examining him. He fights me at every turn. He is delirious and thinks I am an orc."
Aragorn smiled grimly, " An orc."
"Yes, my Liege-- he has stated on numerous occasions to 'stay away
and keep my filthy orc hands off of him'." Saleth grimaced.
"Let us re-examine him together while he is unconscious. We 'orcs'
should stick together, after all" Aragorn gave a weak smile.
"As you wish, my Lord."
Aragorn and Saleth removed the covers and began examining the frail
hobbit. Aragorn was again stricken at how thin his friend was. There
were bruises and cuts covering most of his body. His large hairy feet
were scored with deep slices on the pads that he had incurred while
climbing the rock slope of Orodruin with Sam. Burn marks were on his
legs and arms, all were slathered in salve and bandaged. His right
hand was wrapped in a large wad of gauze and he had welt marks all
along his back. Bruises in various hues of yellow and purple bore
further testimony to the enemies treatment of this gentle creature.
Aragorn was moved to tears as his eyes lit on each injury. Frodo had
endured so much. Could he ever truly recover? If the physical
injuries was a testament of the damage on the outside, what of the
mental anguish that was sure to haunt him?
"My Leige, if this is too hard for you, I can continue the
examination alone." Saleth spoke with concern for his new King. The
King seemed almost overcome with what he was witnessing.
"No, he is the savior of all free peoples, I would be honored to succor his wounds, physically and mentally. We owe him so much," he whispered.
"Let’s see if we can look down his throat, then we'll examine his
ears, and listen to his breathing and heart." Aragorn spoke in a more
clinical manner.
"Yes, my Lord." Saleth placed his hands on either side of Frodo's
small mouth and pried it open. Using a small wooden spoon they forced
his tongue flat and tipped his head back a little.
"Hmm," said Aragorn. "I think we have found the main source of his
fever...see, the infection, the white spots at the back of his
throat? It is inflamed. I would apply a tincture--do you
have any? We could do it before he awakens." Aragorn looked up at
Saleth.
"Yes, my Lord--tincture of iodine." he reached for the bottle.
Aragorn applied it to a small cloth pad and began painting the red and
swollen throat.
"There, we must give him tea with the poppy extract, athelas and
willow bark to ease the pain and stop the infection. Also it will
induce sleep. But remember, he should receive a child’s dose, perhaps
less, due to his size" Aragorn instructed. Saleth knew these
things, but it was obviously important for the King to take part in
the healing of his friend, so he was not offended. The King was a
gifted healer and Saleth was honored at his presence here with the
halflings. "He should be immersed in tepid--not hot, not cold--baths
every hour. We don’t want the fever to rise any higher or he could
have seizures and more delirium. You may have to restrain
him," Aragorn murmured, stroking the damp curls back from Frodo's
sweaty face.
"Yes, my Lord. But what of the teas and the tincture? He fights me
so" Saleth lamented.
"The tincture must be applied every hour or so, the opiate and
athelas should subdue him allowing you to work. What of the others?"
he asked.
"Sam, Meriadoc and Peregrine are all resting ... they have their
nightmares, but my staff are with them always and soothe them back to
sleep. Their wounds are healing slowly. Once they awaken we can
begin feeding them heavier broths and solid foods. We have been
giving them cool water, and light broths but we have to sit them
up to insure they do not choke." replied Saleth
"Call for me anytime, day or night, if any of them should awaken or
need me" replied Aragorn. Saleth nodded, "Of course, my Liege."
Frodo groaned, twisting his body to lie on his side. He gasped at the
unexpected stab in his back and head. Aragorn and Saleth turned
quickly towards the sound.
"Saleth, do you have any of the teas we discussed on hand?"
"Yes, my Lord. I have hot water and can steep them quickly."
"Then do so, we must get him to drink more. And add honey...Frodo loves
honey," Aragorn murmured. He turned back to his friend while
Saleth began steeping the tea.
"Frodo...Frodo, can you hear me? It is Strider."
Frodo's face was screwed up in pain. He could hear the orc, one was
so near he could *smell* him. Carefully he slit his eyes to see,
hoping the creature wouldn't notice. The orc leaned down close to his
face and smiled---Frodo's eyes flew open and he attempted to back
away, eliciting a sharp pain down his spine.
"Ahhhh" he screamed, "Stay away! Neither you nor your master will get
anything from me," he gasped clutching for the ring at his chest.
"Frodo, you’re delirious, the Ring has been destroyed you are safe in Minas Tirith surrounded by friends. No harm will ever come to you again." Deep concern etched the King’s face. He reached out towards Frodo but was batted away with a feeble swat.
"Don’t touch me. You want It for yourself, but you'll not have It, Dark Servant of Sauron! I will destroy It and myself if needs be," he shrieked.
"Saleth, the tea NOW!" yelled Aragorn.
"Your pardon, my King, here it is" Saleth hurriedly approached the
bed.
"Lean him up against your chest and I will attempt to get him to drink
the tea" said Aragorn to Saleth.
"Now Frodo, you are very ill. You must drink this tea. Will you do
this for your King?" whispered Aragorn.
"King! You are no one's King. You are a mere minion to Sauron. I
would die before I drank your foul drought," gasped Frodo. He was
growing weaker but had a decidedly determined look in his eyes.
"The hard way, then" grimaced Aragorn. "Never fear, Saleth, I have
had dealings with this stubborn hobbit before. You will need to hold
him tightly--he is weak, but he has a strong force of will". Saleth
moved up behind Frodo. Frodo saw him approaching and tried to scoot
away, but the bed was against a wall and soon he was cornered.
"Stayawaystayawaystayaway," he whimpered like a mantra. He
tried to kick at Saleth but his legs would not cooperate, only moving
sluggishly in the general direction of the would be 'predator'. His
eyes darted back and forth between the two orcs. Saleth finally had him
cornered and grabbed and wrapped his arms around the hobbit, pulling
him to his chest. Frodo struggled weakly trying to bite Saleth's arms
and hands but Saleth was stronger and quicker than Frodo and easily
out-maneuvered him. He engulfed the hobbit, wrapping his legs around
Frodo's and his arms pinning the hobbit's to his sides in a most
undignified pose. "No...no, no more. Please, don’t make me. Please,"
Frodo begged. He was weakening and tears were rolling down his
face, his eyes shining. Aragorn felt a fresh wave of pity as he
looked at his friend, but did not let it deter him from his
task.
The tea was cool enough now, he pried open Frodo's mouth and pinching
both sides, quickly poured in a small amount of the medicine. Frodo's
reaction was immediate, spraying it all back into Aragorn's face. A
weak, but satisfied smile appeared on Frodo's face.
"I can play that way too, my friend." said Aragorn wiping tea
and spittle from his face. Again he moved on Frodo. He instructed
Saleth to hold both of Frodo's hands in one of his larger ones
and pinch Frodo's nose shut with the other. Saleth looked dubious, but
did as he was told. Aragorn again forced open the hobbit's mouth,
pouring in a portion of the tea and then quickly tilted Frodo's head
slightly. The hobbit struggled vainly, his eyes going wide in panic, forcing him to swallow so that he could take a breath.
This continued until the cup was drained. All three were exhausted
by the time one cup of tea had been forced down the hobbit.
"A strong foe" exclaimed Saleth.
"You have no idea" returned Aragorn. Frodo had slipped into a
glassy-eyed stare and was mumbling 'Sam, help me ...Sam...help...me'
over and over to himself. Saleth released him and lay him back onto
the pillows.
Aragorn turned to him, "Since I am covered in tea
anyway, should we bathe him now?" He grinned.
Saleth, looking tired and defeated replied, "Yes, my Lord."
Frodo was gingerly placed in the bath of tepid water. His eyes were open
but he was obviously wandering on another plain of existence. They
submerged all of him save his face, and kept him in the bath,
adding hot water as it cooled, until his fingers and toes were
pruney. He was then swaddled in fluffy towels, dried and dressed in a
clean (hobbit sized) nightshirt and laid on fresh sheets and pillows.
He felt slightly cooler to Aragorn's trained hands and had finally
slipped into a drugged sleep.
"Check on him often, get help to give him his medicines or tie him
down. Let me know how the fever fairs at regular intervals and let us
hope it is just a throat infection and nothing more," Aragorn said as
he stood to leave.
Saleth bowed as Aragorn departed and turned to look at his charges.
Merry and Pippin were stirring and the healers were giving them
water, tea and chamber pots as needed. Sam was still sleeping but a
healer was holding him up, a soppy cloth of clean water slowly dropping onto his tongue. He swallowed reflexively as the water trickled down his throat. Saleth watched approvingly.
His gaze rested lastly on the Ringbearer, the high color of fever on
his cheeks made him look as if he had fallen asleep in the Sun. He twisted and murmured in pain, but did not awaken.
This will be a very long night, thought Saleth.
TBC