there and back again, a hobbit's tale | closed

[ironwood]

Characters: The Ironwood Emperor and Frodo Baggins.
Location: The Palace of Landed Sky.
Situation: Frodo's been injured by a Morgul blade, it's time for an Emperortervention.
Warnings/Rating: None yet. Will add if that changes.




Evandau had first been the one to bring her news of the little creature, the 'hobbit' come lately to her city. Apparently, this Frodo Baggins had sustained some sort of injury that bore looking after.

Eshai was no healer, but that didn't mean she couldn't heal. She simply misliked doing so. It did not suit her nature, which was tied more to the crossed swords that hung over her white marble throne. Still, she would attend to this 'Frodo' and see where it took her. She's learned never to eschew new possibilities.

Rather than meet him in her throneroom, she opted to use one of the little closed gardens of the palace. They were gilt cages – almost literally – an enclosed trellis with creeping ivy that blocked out all but the most stubborn of sunbeams. The result was a small, intimate space that smelled of fragrant spices and flowers, and at its centre there was a small, shallow pool cut directly into the turtle's shell. Eshai was standing beside it, the picture of serenity, and she would continue to do so until her guards brought Frodo to her directly.

The pageantry of leadership. It was all a matter of presentation.

Comments

[iorhael]

Frodo, when he had finally made his way back to his lodging after end of the festival in the Earth sector, found that he had no desire to leave it. As the festivals moved through the different parts of the city, Frodo spent most of it resting. Sleeping when it could be had. The wound was getting worse. He peeled the fresh bandage off with his good hand one day. He wished he hadn't. Black and blue spider-webbed out from the hole, but other than that, it was as if the very color had been sucked out from around the area. He had been afraid of this. Now it was continuing its progression. Delayed but not stopped as he had hoped.

He said nothing of the matter to Sam. He didn't want to worry him; not when he had enough to worry about as it was.

Sam was out when the White Guard came for Frodo. They were dreadfully cryptic. They were also equally insistent that he come with. For a frantic moment, he wondered if they had come for the Ring, but dismissed it soon after. They didn't make any sign that they knew about It. Whoever the Emperor was sounded like he was interested in him instead. This fact comforted him little, yet some side of Frodo was curious enough to go without too much fuss. Who could have rule over these strange people?

The going was slow, almost as painfully so the way to Rivendell. Frodo focused on taking one step, then another. After what felt like too long as it was, they finally stopped. The hobbit lifted his head to look around. He found, to his surprise, that he had not been led to a massive throne room, but a garden of sorts, small and fragrant. What was even more surprising was the Emperor was a woman. The woman could be no other. She was tall like the Big Folk, beautiful but in a way he had not seen from either Men or Elves. There was something severe about it, like steel or winter frost.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was royalty. Frodo bowed as best as he could. "You asked for me, my Lady?"

[ironwood]

The formality almost gave her cause to smile.

"Yes. Tell me about your wound."

No introductions. She knew his name, and if he wasn't informed as to hers she had no care to rectify the situation. This was not a true audience, and if she wanted to eschew tradition she would do so in her own space.

[iorhael]

She was astonishingly down to business. For an Empress. This wasn't going quite along the lines as to what the hobbit would have thought for royalty, namely a good deal more pomp and even more ceremony and wordiness to it, something more like his uncle had said of Thorin.

He had never set eyes on her before, but somehow - the guards around the city, maybe- she had gotten wind of it. It occurred to Frodo for one moment to avoid the truth, for the wound itself and how it came about was too closely tied to the Ring. One question had a way of leading to another, and another. Taking one look into her eyes, the possibility dwindled. He would have as much success doing so as he would Gandalf. In fact, it might make things more complicated. He would remain as cautious as he could, but

So Frodo did the next best thing, which was to stick to the bare facts. "It wasn't a normal blade. The wound bled little but a chill steadily spreads from it. "

[ironwood]

She folded her arms, lips pursed. 'Unimpressed' was probably the word she presently embodied. The newcomer could hardly understand it was her default, so after a moment her expression softened and her stance became less... combative.

"Show me."

[iorhael]

She certainly was intimidating. Frodo was reminded inexplicably of one of stricter matrons back at Brandy Hall when he was much younger. One of the most stern hobbits he had ever met. There was little arguing with her or trying to explain further that you were indeed not sneaking out at all in the middle of the night for Bamfurlong through the open window but you were in fact, checking the general condition of the window (there was a dreadful squeak to it).

Some things stood out like crystal despite the years. You learned to stay out of her way. Frodo rather thought the Emperor had the same purse of the lips, but something softened her face soon after.

He silently obliged her, unbuttoning his shirt at the neck, and once he had room, peeled it back to reveal the wound.

[ironwood]

She stepped in closer, set one hand against the back of his neck to hold him in place and prodded at the wound with the other. It was indeed ugly, and no doubt painful as well.

She doubted she could fix it completely. It felt... there was some sort of magic hanging about it, and her grasp of the subject had never been infallible.

"How long ago did it happen?"

[iorhael]

Frodo stiffened under her hands. He cared little for how she had held him in place, like a bird that was expected to escape and not a hobbit. Her hands were strong too, gripping his neck surprisingly and prodding at the wound with the other.

A flash of pain streaked down his arm and through his chest when she poked round the wound. The hobbit's face looked strained. "It may have been two weeks or so, but it has been hard to keep track of time."

[ironwood]

She hmmed under her breath, and released him at the same time. "Do you see this pool?" she asked, sweeping her arm towards the shallow gathering of water cut into the shell. It would come no higher than her thighs, but on this odd little creature-- well.

"Sit in it. Take your clothing off if you would be more comfortable, though it isn't necessary. It's called a Sessanset Vaieh. Living water. It will ease your discomfort, and pull the poison from the wound. It won't be pretty, but it will work."

In the meantime, she had some business to attend to in another part of the Palace. "I must be elsewhere for a time. If you try to explore this place beyond the means given to you, my guards are instructed to bring you to me. I will not be as pleasant, then."

[iorhael]

Taking a step back, the hobbit followed the sweep of her arm to take in the pool once again. The water stood still and dark, but it looked deep enough for what she told him. Would it really work? How did she know it would? He knew nothing about her, knew little if she could be trusted. Frodo didn't see many options at the moment. He didn't have the time to wait, and there was little sign that other help might come.

The alternative was much worse.

"Thank you, my lady," Frodo said, eyes still on the pool. He had to wonder what she meant, for he didn't find her particularly pleasant at the moment, but some things were best not tested. "Before you leave; What do you mean by 'living water'?"

[ironwood]

Eshai paused some distance away. She remained there a moment, her back to him, and then she turned just enough to be in profile. When she spoke, her tone was softer than it had been previously, more meditative.

"Water is a form of energy. It sustains the lives of other things. Plants, trees, people. It nurtures and is kind, but it can also bring destruction and foster cruelty. Certain pools, like this one, are many hundreds of years old. Water that changes constantly does not have time to grow or learn. The older a body of water is, the more it has seen. This little pool has seen much. It is not alive as you and I are, but it does live, and is bestowed with certain properties besides. Does that sate your curiosity?"

[iorhael]

Frodo didn't see how water, no matter how old or how much it had seen, could heal him, but he also thought his options were grim enough looking as it were that he would try anything at this point.

"It only makes me even more curious," Frodo had to admit. "But I would hold you for hours on end asking everything there was to know about the pool and its history, if given the opportunity. Thank you."

[ironwood]

He was pleasant enough that although it was in her nature to be disinclined towards warmth, she smiled. "Save your curiosities. They will keep for now. If knowledge strikes your fancy, I can make available several books from my athenaeum."

[iorhael]

He hoped they would keep, if only because he still had his doubts about the pool. He would try it though.

"I should like that. I will have to take you up on the offer as soon as I can."

[ironwood]

She inclined her head in acknowledgement of his statement and swept from the room. She hadn't been lying about having business elsewhere, and it was hardly her duty to watch over people while they bathed.

Still. She wasn't gone for long. An hour, perhaps, had passed by the time she returned. In that time she'd changed into simpler clothing, stark black. She had several books in her arms, and she set them down on a small raised table.

"How do you feel?"

[iorhael]

Frodo had only just pulled on his shirt, and was in the process of starting the bottom button when the Empress swept in. Frodo turned his back quickly. It didn't seem proper to go baring skin at royalty, and Frodo was far too conscious of the fact that although he was a gentlehobbit, it was a far cry from approaching her station, and how best to deal with such.

He glanced down at the damp wound. His flesh remained pale, though it looked more like the pale of a hobbit who spent more time in a study, rather than that of something dying. Color was slowly returning to him.

"Better, thank you," Frodo said after a moment, doing up another button. "I think I can feel my fingers at times again."

[ironwood]

"Good." Though she had no doubts that her techniques would work. She'd healed far more mortal a wound with these methods. The nature of the injury itself intrigued her, but she was not the sort to press for information beyond that which she'd already received.

"There should be continued improvement over the next day. I would prefer that you remain in the palace for observation, though I leave the choice to you."

[iorhael]

He took the time to continue buttoning up the shirt, then pulled up the braces over one shoulder, then the other. Even now he still couldn't quite believe living water could have healed his hurt, that something so simple could do it. But it was hardly so simple, as she'd explained, and Frodo was glad it had.

She still wanted to check his progress, but Frodo knew he ought to get back soon. He would rather rest in the comfort of the suite set aside from him. This glade was peaceful enough, but it didn't feel entirely comfortable to the hobbit. His clothes settled, Frodo rose.

"Thank you for the hospitality, but I would like to get back. I wouldn't want for Sam to worry." Frodo said, somewhat guiltily. The last time he had spoken with Sam, it hadn't gone well. He should see now about what he could do to repair the damage he had done.