Frodo Baggins (theseabell) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-02-20 12:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, frodo baggins, luthien tinuviel |
Who: Frodo and Luthien
When: Just before the current game-wide plot
Where: Frodo’s house
What: Luthien visits a very ill Frodo and discovers fell things are afoot
Rating/Warning: PG, For the Ring being evil and all
Status: Complete
Frodo felt a little like he was running out of oxygen. Part of that was the congestion is his chest, but a lot of it had more to do with the fact that he had been quarantined in his den for a few days now. It was the one room in his villa without any windows and the air was stale, but it was a small price to pay to keep the rest of the house germ-free. Besides, Frodo was uncomfortable in so many other ways that it hardly mattered. He had the shivers, hot flashes, dizziness, nausea. He could not recall ever feeling so sick.
Luthien stepped out of her car and made her way up to the villa. It was a nice villa and she found it homey. She walked up to the door and knocked, carrying a bag and humming to loosen her vocal chords. She had only done some minor healing magic in this world. Elphie had cut her finger badly once.
Carson the butler answered the door. He wasn’t happy his employer was ill, but it did mean he was permitted to do his job. Typically, Frodo beat him to every chore. He raised an eyebrow at the pretty woman on the other side. “Hello. May I help you?
"I am Luthien," she said, bowing her head to carter. "I come with some gifts for Mr. Frodo, to aid in his recovery." She held up the bag. "He should be expecting me."
Frodo had not mentioned have visitors, but then again, Frodo had not been speaking much due to his sore throat. Carson might have asked Merrill, but she had taken the baby for a walk on the beach for some sun and germ-free air. He motioned for the woman, Luthien, to come inside. He led the way to the den, where Frodo was stretched out on the leather sofa under a heavy quilt.
“A Ms. Luthien here to see you, sir. Are you expecting her?”
Frodo nodded, brighening a little as he motioned with his hand that she should be permitted to enter the room. Carson opened the door wider and stepped out of the way, announcing that he would bring some tea. He was just happy to be useful.
Luthien followed Carson, and then gave Frodo a little bow as she stepped in. “Good afternoon. You must be feeling dreadful.” She set her bag down and pulled out one of her remedies. It was a draught that should aid in healing Frodo’s throat and decongesting his chest.
Frodo was nearly the color of an old photograph. All the color had gone from his face. Even his hair seemed a little more gray. Still, his smile was warm as he pushed himself to a better seated position on the sofa. “I have had better days.” He winced a bit. His throat did hurt, but the pain in his shoulder was far worse.
It was a little worrisome, but she just nodded her head. “I’m sure you have. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”
“Horrid,” Frodo replied. His voice was raspy, weak. He sounded even worse that he looked. “But I am eager to see how you can help.”
She nodded her head and came over, handing him the draught and sitting next to him. Something seemed off, but she couldn’t really place it. “Lets try this first, shall we?”
Frodo moved his feet so that Luthien could comfortably sit. He drank what she offered without question. He had gotten to a point in his illness where he was willing to try just about anything, but in this case the dose was sweet and easy to swallow.
Luthien hummed softly, probingly, in an ancient dialect of elvish as Frodo drank, and she seemed to faintly glow.
Quietly, the man who was looking more and more like a hobbit watched her. Elves were such lovely creatures, created to be beauty itself. “Do you make a lot of house calls?” Frodo asked, handing the cup back to her.
“This would be my first one. The last time I healed someone, she lived with me.” Luthien smiled softly. “But I think I can make an exception for you.”
“Well, I am a very special patient.” He returned her smile and adjusted his position on the sofa again. It was then that Frodo felt something digging into his thigh, something small, like a rock, except that it also happened to be warm. No, not warm. Electric?
“That you are. Is the drought helping? Perhaps I shall sing. I think I’d like to do that.” She grinned. She liked to sing at the drop of the hat, after all.
“Yes, by all means. Please, sing.” Even in his dreams, Frodo could not remember the last time he’d been to a Elf concert, but the music of Rivendell echoed in his soul.
Closing her eyes, Luthien felt the music well up in her soul. It was a song she used to sing and dance to in the wilds of Doriath, long, long ago. A song of joy and happiness and the mystery of the forest.
Frodo settled in to relax, reaching down to pull the covers back up to his chin. In spite of his fever, he always felt like he was freezing. Beneath the quilt, he slipped a hand into his pocket to search for whatever it was that jabbed him.
Luthien’s voice rang through the room as she reached the chorus. If Middle-earth were somehow a past incarnation of this world like she suspected, it was the oldest song ever sung. She switched to another one as soon as the first was finished, a song of happy times that she’d often sung to her son.
What his hand found was something cold and hard, but certainly not a rock. Frodo felt a chill go up his arm. His eyes widened in horror. When he pulled his hand out from beneath the covers, the Ring was sitting in the center of his palm.
How had it gotten there? Frodo had no memory of going to Bag End and opening the safe. Had he torn the wall open? How long had it been with him?
A wave of dizziness washed over Luthien when the ring was revealed. There was something fell and dark about it, and something familiar, as though there were an old soul she’d faced once before. Her voice faltered in surprise, and then she shifted into a different song. One of challenge, that had brought for the servant of Morgoth from his tower. The power that had thrown down the gates after Huan had vanquished him.
The ring pulsed once, and she snapped back, over the couch and onto her side.
It was not only the Ring that pulsed. Frodo felt a jolt go through his body, like lightning, and as painful as an electric shock. For a moment, he saw nothing but fire. His body may have remained in the room with Luthien, but his spirit was transported to those same gates and that same tower. When he came to and saw Luthien on the floor, Frodo was filled with horror, and, in strange way, shame.
“Oh my! Are you alright?” Frodo attempted to throw off the covers and help her, momentarily forgetting his illness, or whatever it truly was. Instead, his weak limbs faltered, and he landed on the floor beside her. The Ring flew through the air and landed between them.
Luthien gasped. She pushed herself up and looked at the Ring between them. She reached over and picked it up to inspect it more closely. It whispered in the back of her mind. It would be so easy to just put it on. She could get her son back so much more easily. She could help so many people. Stop wars, force the rich to provide for the hungry and the poor.
She reached to her neck, pulling something out of the front of her dress. The necklace Nauglamír, with a large, dazzling gem set into it. She held it in her hand, next to the Ring. “So much power in jewellry. So much death and ruin from such little things. Could it be different? So much good it can do in the right hands. A dark lady of peace. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? “
The Ring seemed ordinary and pale next to the Silmaril, and Luthien snapped out of it. She dropped the Ring and scooted backwards away from it, clutching the necklace to her chest. She’d never felt so tempted by anything in either of her lives.
As Luthien picked up the Ring, it took all that was left of Frodo’s energy not to lash out and reclaim it. Or do something worse. His heart began to pound in his ears. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. He only made it to seven when she dropped the Ring; and even though Frodo couldn’t see it, he sensed it so acutely that it was in his hand less than a second later.
Back where it belonged, the Ring’s own gasp on Frodo’s heart lessened, as if it knew it was out of danger now. He could think again. Frodo pulled his knees to his chest to keep warm as the chill seeped back in. “This illness...it is not the flu...is it?”
“It is something far darker,” she said, her heart still racing. “Where did you get that? Did it come from your dreams?” Why would someone like Frodo be carrying a piece of Morgoth’s lieutenant?
Frodo’s hand quivered against his chest. He was clutching the Ring so tightly that it felt like it was cutting into his palm. “It did. I...in my dreams, my Uncle happened upon this Ring. And he left it to me. It was only much later that I found out what it truly was.” He swallowed. “And then I undertook the mission to destroy it, traveling all the way to Mount Doom. Imagine my surprise when it appeared on my night table.”
“That’s a brave journey for one so small,” Luthien said, quietly. “The temptation is...great. Nigh irresistible.”
Frodo gulped and looked toward the entryway to make sure the door was shut tight. He did not what he was about to say escaping this room. “Yes, but… Luthien… I do not remember how the Ring ended up in my pocket. I keep it locked in a safe. I have no memory of taking it out.”
“Magical objects often have ways to get what they want,” she replied, running a hand through her hair and finally letting go of her death grip on her necklace. “I fear it’s corrupting you.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. In fact, he winced quite forcefully. “It...does seem to have a mind of its own...from time to time.”
“There’s no mountain to throw it into. It’s not wise to keep it on your person, but is there a really a place to prevent others from taking it?” Part of her still remained tempted, but she could fight that, she thought.
"Someone told me, long ago, that it was my mission to keep it safe." He was speaking of Gandalf, whom he dearly missed at this moment. "And by keeping it protected, I was keeping the world safe. But if I cannot do that, and I do appear to be failing, who would ever be able to take my place?" The question was rhetorical; there never seemed to be an answer, no matter how many times it was asked.
“Neither of us are without means. We could charter a boat, sink it deep into the ocean. The Mariana’s trench, or another fissure. Perhaps the pressure will destroy it.”
“You know that won’t work.” Frodo’s voice began to quiver. He fought to rise to his feet.
“Then what will? This … thing… is after my time,” Luthien replied, shaking her head. “But I sense you’re right. It would find it’s way back eventually.”
Frodo nodded, turning toward the sofa and grabbing hold of the armrest to pull himself upward. His arms shook. There were strong, dark emotions building up inside of him. He did not want to talk about destroying the Ring. "There is only one way. And that volcano only exists in Middle-earth."
“Wouldn’t any Volcano do?” Luthien asked, though she knew the answer before she’d even spoken.
"No, any volcano won't do!" Frodo snapped, barking over his shoulder. He had clenched his jaw to fight against his rage, but it had not worked. Instead, it felt like his teeth might break.
Luthien sang out a single, clear note as she got to her feet. “There’s a solution, we only need to search for one. But first you need to put that ring back in its safe.”
Frodo closed his eyes tightly and tried counting again. There was an aggressive voice whispering in his ear, but it began to fade as Luthien’s note rang out. He gulped and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I must do so at once.”
She sang the note again, quick to take advantage of it's effect on Frodo. She could drown out the voices for at least a little while, and she made a note to give him one of her CDs. While the magic was lessened perhaps it might help.
At last, the angry, guttural voice in Frodo's brain was gone. And not only that, but his fever was starting to break. He could not say he felt well, but his limbs were not as weak and he did not feel so lightheaded. "Yes...I have to lock it away. For now." What else could be done? If only a real solution would present itself.
Frodo gathered what he could of his strength, took a step away from the sofa, and found his legs would carry him, though he tottered a little like a drunk. Bag End, where the safe was located, could only be reached by traveling outside. He only hoped he would not find a gaping hole in the wall. Or anything worse.
She let him get some space, before following him and singing, letting her voice bolster his strength. Despite that it seemed to her that he had a great deal of strength within himself, and her song simply helped him reveal it.