“I’m sorry,” Merry said softly. “I just had to look into it again. It was all I could think about.”
“Look into what?” Boromir asked.
Aragorn sighed. “A palantir, Boromir. One of the seven stones.”
Boromir frowned. “We believe that the Dark Lord took the stone of Minas Ithil long ago, but we thought the others lost.”
“Not so,” Legolas said. “One remains at the Havens on the western shores of Middle-earth.”
“And another is in my keeping,” Aragorn continued. “One of the stones of Arnor, thought lost at sea, was recently discovered and brought to Rivendell, where I have been dwelling. I am now its guardian.” He looked grimly in the direction of the jungle. “Saruman apparently has one as well, and has learned to use it.” He smiled at Merry. “You did nothing wrong, Merry; the seeing stones seek each other out; only a trained will can command it otherwise. I will conceal it so that you will not be tempted again.”
“No,” Merry said unexpectedly. “You don’t have to hide it, Aragorn. I would not look into it again if it were here in front of me.”
“What did you see?” Pippin asked.
“I’m not certain,” Merry said hesitantly. “At first, I felt that I was flying... I could see the whole island. Then I was drawn to a... a tower, where a Man stood, looking into a globe like mine. I mean, like Aragorn’s,” he quickly corrected himself. “He saw me. I felt suddenly deathly cold, and he... he spoke...”
“What did he say to you, Merry?” Gandalf asked.
“I don’t know.” Merry looked troubled. “His voice was soft... gentle... I felt cold, and...”
“That’s enough,” Frodo said suddenly. “It must have been you that he saw, Merry. You distracted him from me, and from his control of the man on the oliphaunt.” He looked at Gandalf. “Do you suppose that Saruman is after this ‘seeing stone’ as well as the Ring?”
“He will acquire it, if he can,” Gandalf sighed. “We must be very alert in the next days.”
“In the meantime,” Aragorn said, turning his attention to Frodo, “let us see what we can do about that fever.”
“How?” Frodo asked.
Aragorn motioned to the still-steaming pot of water. “I have found athelas; it has great virtue. Now that we know that the source of your fever is Dark Magic, perhaps Gandalf and I, working together, can dispel it.” He looked at Gandalf, who nodded.
“You’re going to use magic?” Pippin asked eagerly. He flopped down next to Frodo. “I want to watch.”
“Perhaps we should give them some privacy, you miscreant,” Boromir said. He bent and scooped Pippin up off the ground. “Let us see if knocking you against one of these trees will persuade some of the larger fruits to fall.” He walked off, the young giggling hobbit dangling from his arm. Legolas, and Gimli left the shelter as well, but Sam and Merry sat down firmly at Frodo’s side.
“What do you mean to do?” Frodo asked Aragorn, wide eyed.
“Do not fear,” the Ranger said softly. “Lie down and close your eyes. That’s it...” He lay a hand on Frodo’s brow -- the warmth of fever was still evident -- and closed his own eyes. Aragorn whispered something and concentrated -- and Frodo’s body slowly relaxed, his breathing deepening and slowing.
“He sleeps,” Aragorn said, opening his eyes and looking at Gandalf.
“How did you do that?” Merry asked in amazement.
“It is something I learned from a master healer,” the Ranger responded. He moved the still-steaming pot so that the athelas fragrance would reach Frodo. Then he rose, and Gandalf took his place. Sam watched, awestruck, as the wizard began to chant strange words. He placed one hand on Frodo’s chest and another gently on his injured leg, and continued chanting. Suddenly Frodo’s body convulsed, and he cried out. Sam thought he could see... almost see... a dark cloud rise from Frodo’s leg. Gandalf’s voice grew louder, the words more strident -- until suddenly the cloud burst apart, replaced by a gentle light... until it, too, faded and was gone. Frodo sighed, and relaxed once more into peaceful slumber.
“The spell has been broken,” Gandalf declared.
“What was that... that thing?” Sam whispered.
“Battles are fought on many levels, Sam,” Gandalf said quietly.
Aragorn moved to check Frodo’s fever. “He should recover more swiftly now,” he murmured.
“How long will he be asleep?”
“A few hours, I would think,” Aragorn replied. “He will not remember the pain... only gentle dreams.”
“That’s good,” Merry sighed. Gandalf motioned for Aragorn to accompany him some distance from the shelter.
“What troubles you?” Aragorn asked.
“We must watch Merry closely,” Gandalf said.
“Gandalf, when he spoke of what he saw, I did not sense any deception in his speech.”
“Saruman’s voice carries great power and influence, Aragorn. It is his greatest weapon. He spoke to Merry, but Merry does not remember what he heard. We do not know what that villain may have placed into our young hobbit's mind during their exchange.”
Aragorn nodded thoughtfully.
~*~
That third day on the island passed without further incident. No one wandered far from camp, and all found more than enough to keep them busy. Merry and Legolas gathered fruit and edible plants, and -- once Boromir released him -- Pippin continued to have good luck with his fishing. Gandalf went off to seek more firewood, and Gimli began to diligently fashion more weapons. Meanwhile, Sam directed Aragorn and Boromir in the digging of a deep pit, and everyone helped to prepare the boar Gimli had brought in for slow, overnight roasting.
Sam kept running back to check on Frodo, who was sleeping longer than Aragorn had guessed -- but Aragorn assured him that all was well. Indeed, Frodo awoke just as Pippin was proudly passing around smoked fish and fresh greens, served on the airline’s finest china. Frodo sat up and looked around, surprised that evening was already coming on.
“Perfect timing,” Sam grinned, handing Frodo a plate.
“Is... am I all right?” Frodo asked Aragorn as everyone sat down near him and began to eat.
“Yes,” the Ranger smiled. “Saruman’s hold on you has been broken.”
“I don’t feel too badly anymore,” Frodo said, beginning to wolf down the generous portion handed to him. “Thank you for---” He suddenly put down his plate and looked closely at his right hand. “Whatever is this?”
Merry started to laugh. “Pippin discovered some colored markers in the cockpit, and, well, we weren’t watching him for five minutes, and...”
Frodo held up his hand and stared at the back of it. On each finger Pippin had written a letter, spelling out F-R-O-D-O in five different colors. “Pip, did you think I’d forget who I was?” he grinned. “This will wash off, won’t it?” His smile faded as Pippin tried to hide behind Legolas. “Won’t it?”
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