FIC: "Smoke & Shrimp" by Febobe (1/1, G)
The teaser preview I posted earlier today comes from this fic's opening, so those who read that will recognise the beginning. :) Bon appetit!
This fic is set in post-Quest Minas Tirith, before the arrival of Arwen and Elrond and their party, fairly early into Frodo's recovery - but far enough out that he is no longer in danger. It is a deviation from my usual practise of assuming Gondorian food to be Italian in nature. Please pardon the amount of canon-bending in this. If you can't tolerate some fun with canon, then you definitely don't want to read this, as it's not exactly what you'd call orthodox. ;) Oh, and you may notice that Sam reacts differently to shrimp here than he expresses in "Into the East." I tend to vary in whether I keep my fics consistent across the board...and one thing I love to vary is Frodo and Sam in their reactions to fish and seafood. It makes me happy to explore.
And this was another one that took a surprise turn on me. I thought it was done, but I felt like something was missing, and I caught hints of it as I was titling the piece...but when I started to paste it over to post here, I suddenly knew what was missing, so I went back and finished it. Man, talk about fic taking you places you didn't even know you were going to go....
Love,
Febobe :)
"I still don't see why you had to move me *here*," Frodo grumbled as Aragorn tucked him into the big bed. "I was quite happy in my own room."
"I have my reasons, Frodo," said Aragorn, smiling. "Are you quite certain you do not wish to lie outside on the balcony? I assure you, you will be in no danger."
"I'm sure I'd take a chill," sniffed Frodo indignantly. "And then a fever. And then how would you feel?"
"Begging your pardon, sir, but it *is* a very nice day out there," Sam put in, propping pillows behind Frodo's shoulders and head. "Not a cloud in the sky."
"Most likely it's waiting for me to come out," said Frodo gloomily. "Then it'll pour. And I'll get soaked before Aragorn can get me inside, and I'll catch cold."
"Suit yourself," Aragorn replied. "I, however, have things to do outside, so *I* shall be on the balcony."
"You aren't going to leave me alone, are you, Sam?" asked Frodo plaintively.
"O'course not, sir." Sam smoothed Frodo's covers and took a seat on a stool beside the bed. "I'll be right here. You just tell me what you want."
"Lunch, in a while," said Frodo. "I do hope they have something nice. I'm tired of soup and jellies."
There was a crackling sound from the balcony. Sam did not stir, but Frodo cast a suspicious glance in that direction.
"Is Aragorn quite certain the king's chambers are secured?" he asked. "I could swear that sounded like someone setting a fire."
"He's sure, sir," said Sam. "I helped him check, too. You just rest now. Everything's fine."
A few more crackling and popping sounds ... and then ... Frodo sniffed, eyes widening.
"Sam, that's - that's *smoke*!"
"It is, sir. But smell. It's not so bad."
Frodo sniffed nervously. "It smells like applewood," he said. "What would applewood smoke be doing up here?" He looked toward the balcony, the open doors between it and the room in which he lay. "Aragorn," he called, "what *are* you doing out there? I smell smoke!"
"Perhaps you should let Sam walk you out so you can see!" called Aragorn.
Frodo glared in the direction of the voice, but glanced at Sam.
"He knows I've hardly walked since - everything," he said miserably in an undertone. "I don't know that I feel strong enough."
"Come now, sir. You can do it. I'll help. And if you start feeling at all faint, I'll pick you right up and carry you straight back to bed."
"I suppose I could try," sighed Frodo, sitting up and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. He looked at the floor as if it were made of boiling lava. "I'm so afraid."
"It's not far, Mr. Frodo. And the view from up here is downright beautiful. I promise. You'll be glad to be out. Strider's made up a little bed for you and all, with blankets and pillows. You can be comfortable."
Grudgingly Frodo slipped down onto the floor, leaning against Sam for support, and ventured his weight onto his feet. With cautious steps he began to move toward the balcony, hesitating now and then, leaning on Sam like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood.
As they approached the open doors, Frodo blinked, stopping dead in his tracks. There was some sort of brazier or something out there, set up close to the height of Aragorn's waist, or a little taller, and from it came smoke. Aragorn was setting things on it - cobs of corn, patties of meat, and skewers, or so it seemed, filled with mushrooms and onions, others with some little creatures Frodo had never before seen, little pink things with strange tails.
"What are you doing?" asked Frodo. "Is it not dangerous to have a fire here? Are you cooking?"
"It is a grill, Frodo, and quite safe, I assure you." Aragorn turned, smiling broadly. "The applewood chips make the most delicious grilled meats and seafood and vegetables. I thought it might help your appetite to enjoy a little cook-out of sorts." He gestured to a well-laid-out couch set with blankets and pillows some distance from the grill. Beside it stood a small table with glasses and a pitcher of some pale yellow liquid with slices of yellow fruit floating within. "Sit down. I am sure Sam would not mind pouring some lemonade for the two of you to enjoy while lunch is cooking."
Frodo inched toward the couch, still supported by Sam, but he looked back toward the grill now and then with interest.
"What are those little pink things with tails?" he asked. "I do like lemonade, but I've never seen those before."
"They are called shrimp," Aragorn said as Sam helped Frodo settle on the couch. "They are a kind of sea-food, and many people find them a great treat. I thought that you two might like them. These are what we call honey-grilled shrimp. They are marinated in honey before grilling, to sweeten the flavor."
"That *does* sound nice," said Frodo. "And one can hardly go wrong with grilled mushrooms, after all."
"Indeed." Aragorn smiled as Sam poured Frodo a glass of lemonade and offered it.
"Do you want a glass, Strider, sir?" asked Sam.
"I think I would like that, thank you, Sam," said Aragorn, turning some of the skewers and poking at the wood chips with a long metal thing, apparently designed for just such a purpose. He gestured toward a long table set out close by. "Perhaps when you have had some lemonade as well, you can look over our other dishes and tell your master what all we have for our lunch besides what is on the grill."
Sam brought a glass of lemonade over, then poured one for himself and went to examine the table.
"Sir, there's plenty o'cold salads," he said, "potato, and cabbage too, and some kind with corn and tomatoes and bell peppers, and there's plenty o'good fresh butter for the corn Strider's grilling, and some salt, and plates o'nice fresh vegetables - sliced tomatoes, and lettuce leaves, and sliced red and yellow onions, and lots o'pickles. A little pot o'mustard. Some kind o'red sauce. Sliced cheese, too. And there's cookies, gingersnaps and sugar cookies with frosting. And there's something here I hadn't seen before. Looks like taters to me, only they're - they're sliced up and fried crispy and thin."
"They are called potato chips," said Aragorn. "Have you not made them in the Shire?"
"Not like that," said Sam. "But they do look nice."
Frodo looked intrigued. He sat up, sipping his lemonade. "Could I have one potato chip, please?" he asked, looking at Strider. "Please, may I?"
"One, yes, for each of you," said Aragorn, "so that you will not spoil your lunch. But I warn you that you will not wish to stop at one. In fact, I suspect that I shall have to have them made for you on a regular basis once you taste them. They are quite ... addictive."
Sam brought a chip over to Frodo, and took a smaller one for himself. Both bit in, and their eyes widened. Sam looked at the plate in astonishment.
"Now, sir, *that* is *good?*!" he said emphatically. "I reckon I could make that, but that's not something I ever did think o'doing."
"They're salty," said Frodo. "Perfect."
"I thought you would enjoy them," said Aragorn with a grin. "A few minutes longer, and we may fill our plates. And besides the lemonade, I have a surprise." He gestured toward another area of the balcony, where - to Frodo's surprise - mugs waited on a table beside a great barrel.
"Beer?" Frodo asked, almost gaping. "Aragorn, is that beer? May we have some?"
"With lunch, yes, of course." Aragorn winked. "I thought that since neither of you have had any beer since - well, Rivendell - you might enjoy a few mugs of it now. There is plenty, and it is well chilled. I even had the mugs chilled especially, to make it more pleasant. Cold beer goes very well with honey-grilled shrimp." He gestured to a plate of buns beside him. "And I have another treat. Here in Gondor they like to grind beef and make what are called hamburgers. They are simply patties of ground beef. That is what all the trimmings on the table are for, the vegetables and pickles and sliced cheese. People here like to dress their sandwiches with these things."
"They do smell lovely," said Frodo, sniffing appreciatively. "I am absolutely starved."
Aragorn grinned. "Starved was what you were when I took you from Gandalf's arms," he said, "and feared that you would never wake again. Hobbits were not meant to be thin, but round of belly and face, with rosy cheeks and full stomachs. I am very glad to hear that you are hungry."
Frodo pinked a little. "Forgive me," he said. "Sometimes I forget."
"I am glad of it," said Aragorn. "I wish for you to forget as much as you possibly can of what you have endured. We must make new memories for you, to push out the darkness. Would you like to have cook-outs like this again? We could invite your cousins. Or we could just make it the three of us."
"I should like to have one with my cousins," said Frodo, "and Gandalf too. Do you think Legolas and Gimli would like to come as well? Would that be all right?"
"I am sure they would be delighted," said Aragorn, removing food from the grill and laying it out on platters, then carrying two at a time to the table and arranging them. "Sam, do you think you could help your master walk around and choose for himself what he would like? I can prepare his plate if you will help him."
"I can walk," said Frodo, setting his glass on the table and rising. "I can do it myself. I feel stronger out here in the air."
Sam looked at Aragorn in wonder, but Aragorn only smiled.
"As you wish, Frodo," he said. "If you feel shaky or faint, you need only tell us, and we will help you. Would you like Sam to help you prepare your plate?"
"Yes, please," said Frodo. "I should like that."
Sam, beaming, accompanied Frodo around the table as he selected small servings of everything. They heeded Aragorn's advice that some people liked the red sauce on shrimp, and mustard on their "hamburger," and before long Frodo had dressed his "hamburger" with a mountain of lettuce leaves, sliced tomatoes, sliced sweet pickles, cheese, and a little mustard, positioning it next to the skewers of grilled shrimp and vegetables on his plate. Once Sam had helped him settle on the couch, more lemonade was poured and a mug of beer fetched.
"Help yourself now, Sam," said Aragorn. "I shall go last."
Sam blushed, but Aragorn was obviously not going to take no for an answer, so he filled his own plate and settled down on another couch close to Frodo. Aragorn filled his plate and sat upon a bench beside the table, stretching his long legs out before him.
"It's WONDERFUL," said Frodo a few mouthfuls later. "That shrimp - how do you eat it? It's beautiful. I could make a meal off the mushrooms and onions, or the burger, but I want to try the shrimp."
"Do not eat the tails," Aragorn explained, and proceeded to instruct the hobbits in the finer points of eating shrimp. The moment Frodo bit in, his eyes went wide as saucers.
"Oh!" he cried, as soon as he had swallowed. "Oh, THAT is LOVELY! Aragorn, promise me we can have these again, please! Soon!"
"They are nice," said Sam, looking quite surprised. "And right sweet, too, with that honey on 'em."
"They're *delicious*," said Frodo. "Not as good as mushrooms, but nearly. And that "hamburger" is amazing. I could eat those every day, I think."
"Some day when we have the others, we shall make those and grilled sausages, too," said Aragorn. "There is something they do with sausages here called "hot dogs." They are not made of dog, but of spiced meat, and yet they are not exactly like the breakfast sausage you eat, more the other sort, such as you might travel with. I have seen hobbits grill sausages over the fire; it is something like that, only we put them on buns, with mustard and pickle relish and sometimes onions and a dish called chili, which is the hamburger meat crumbled up and cooked like a stew with hot spices."
"There is so much I do not know about Gondorian food," said Frodo. "I want to try it all while I am here. Will you teach us how to make the ground meat things? We could take that back home with us. I am sure we could get butchers to grind the beef for us."
"I would be happy to help you," said Aragorn. "The recipes would seem quite simple to hobbits, I think. We shall ensure you take some new tastes home from your travels."
"Home," said Frodo, and sighed. "I cannot imagine what it will be like to go home." He looked at Sam. "I know you must long to see Rosie. I wish I could take you to her now. Forgive me, Sam."
"Ain't nothing to forgive, Mr. Frodo." Sam smiled. "Nothing at all. We'll get back there soon enough, and I reckon she'll be there still. Just you think on getting stronger, getting your health back. Eat up as much o'this good food as you can. That'll help you better'n anything."
"I don't suppose there's any more grilled mushrooms," said Frodo hopefully, casting a glance in Aragorn's direction.
"I have two skewers with your name on them," said Aragorn, fetching them for him. "Eat up."
"Thank you," said Frodo. "Sam, would you like some too?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "Just you eat those up. Do you good."
They ate quietly for a time. At last Frodo looked up, studying Aragorn, then Sam.
"You knew," he said. "The two of you planned this, to get me outside."
"Did it not help?" asked Aragorn.
Frodo nodded, a soft smile brightening his features.
"It did," he said. "Thank you."
He paused and took another sip of lemonade. At last he drew a shaky breath.
"I am sorry," he began, "about earlier. It is only that - well, it all weighs on my mind at times, and at others it seems like a terrible nightmare no longer real. And yet I feel - broken, for lack of a better word. I do not feel really *well* again yet, nor do I feel any hope that I ever shall feel better, though I suppose it is possible. I still ache for the Ring, and it makes me wonder whether there is yet some darkness in my heart too deep for even the light to penetrate."
"You are but mortal, Frodo," said Aragorn, "and no mortal can resist the lure of that thing entirely. You managed far better than most, better than any human or elf would have, were they to carry it for even half so long. Do not fear! The ache may never pass. But it says nothing dark about you that it is there."
He looked down into his beer-mug.
"As for how you feel ... I do not know what will happen with the passage of time. I fear for your health. But it will do you much good to enjoy all that you can, to get up as much as you can manage, to walk in the sunshine and fresh air of the city, to eat and drink, to laugh whenever you can. At the very least, you may thus bring pleasure to your days. More so than remaining in bed. I will not force you past your strength, but I will tell you that you are recovered enough to be up and about as you can tolerate, and to eat what you would like, when you would like, though I would urge you to eat often, for you still have much weight to gain back."
His eyes met Frodo's.
"I will do all that I can to aid you. As will Sam. As will all the others, who love you as dearly as we. But you must first learn to help yourself."
Frodo swallowed.
"It's like when I was getting over my wound in Rivendell, isn't it?" he asked. "Remember when Sam was helping me button my shirt, and Lord Elrond said that I must do it myself? I was angry with him, and hurt, and my shoulder ached, but I fastened the rest of the buttons myself, and the more he made me exercise my arm the stronger it grew. It is not as strong as it was before, but it is much better when first I woke in Rivendell."
"It is *exactly* like that," replied Aragorn. "Only now you must exercise every part of body and spirit, for all of you was deeply hurt. And it will be more painful, because there is no part of you which remained untouched by the hurts you have taken. But we can make it as pleasant for you as possible - there are many nice things to enjoy in Minas Tirith, and many foods to try, and many things you might wish to see and do. Eowyn has offered to teach you and Sam and Pippin how to ride horses; she thinks you could learn, though you may always prefer ponies. She will not put you in danger. And Faramir longs to show you the great libraries, where thousands of books sit waiting for a reader to enjoy them. You might even, with an escort, visit the markets. There are many wares sold in Minas Tirith now that the city is no longer under siege. There are stalls which sell food. I can make certain you have coin in plenty to spend." He smiled sadly. "I cannot take away the pain, Frodo. But you can learn how to ease it, if only you will permit us to help you. If you prefer to pass the rest of your days in bed, treated as an invalid, you may. I will not refuse you anything. But I think that you would be happier up and about again."
"But I am so afraid!" gulped Frodo, swallowing a sob. "I am frightened."
"Of what?" asked Aragorn, abandoning mug and plate to pull up a stool beside Frodo, putting a gentle arm around the thin shoulders.
"Of hurting more. Of - of the pain. Of not being able to do things I could before."
Aragorn cradled Frodo close as Sam moved to sit on the couch beside his master, patting his legs through the blankets.
"Frodo, do you know how you entered Mordor - the only way in?"
Frodo gulped again, tears flowing down his pale cheeks. "Y-yes. Through th-the pass. Th-the spider."
"Yet you came out alive. But - " Aragorn touched Frodo's cheek tenderly. "The only way out, Frodo, was *through*."
Frodo blinked, looking up at him.
"I th-think I understand," he said softly.
"And we're not leaving you, neither, Mr. Frodo," said Sam firmly. "You don't have to do this by yourself. You don't have to do anything by yourself. We're right here. You know I wouldn't leave you."
"Nor would I," said Aragorn. "Nor would any of our companions. Not even Faramir, who loves you as a brother. If you wish for help, you have only to ask."
"Thank you," murmured Frodo. "I - I shall try." He looked out across the balcony, over the city, and then back at Aragorn. "Maybe a - tomorrow, could we - I mean, I would like a picnic. In the gardens somewhere. I want to see them. Everyone could come who can."
"I think that would be a splendid idea," said Aragorn. "I shall go and arrange it." He glanced toward the grill. "I put out the fire when I finished. Do avoid it if you get up; it will still be quite hot. Do you think the two of you will be all right if I make some arrangements and come back - with more lemonade?"
Two curly mops of hair bobbed in agreement. Frodo sniffled and dried his tears with his napkin.
"Then I shall return shortly," said Aragorn, rising. He bent to kiss the top of Frodo's head. "All shall be better, Frodo. That much I promise."
"Well," said Frodo when they were alone. "I suppose I must apologise. I've been awful, Sam. Do forgive me, please. I don't mean to be so helpless."
"Ain't nothing helpless about you, Mr. Frodo." Sam smiled. "And ain't nothing to forgive, neither. You're fine. Just you keep doing what you need to do to get better. And if you need me, I'm right here to help."
"As you always have been." Frodo leaned forward and embraced Sam tightly. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I shall try my best."
"Don't reckon you can do a bit better than that, sir." Sam embraced Frodo in return. "Do you think you'd like another couple mushrooms, sir? I've got some left I didn't get to."
"One more, perhaps. You eat the other." Frodo laughed. "I'll eat one if you'll eat one."
"Agreed, sir."
Some time passed before Aragorn returned. When he did, however, he laughed so hard that he nearly dropped the pitcher of lemonade in his hands. Setting it aside, he put a hand over his mouth, but his eyes were warm.
Frodo and Sam were still waiting on the balcony, but they had fallen asleep, side by side, on Frodo's couch. Frodo was still tucked in beneath warm blankets, but Sam lay beside him, one arm protectively over his master, the habit not yet broken.
Gently Aragorn reached down, took an extra blanket from the foot of the couch, and tucked it around Sam. Quietly he began to clean up the remains of the cook-out.
The world - and the lemonade - could wait.
-the end-
This fic is set in post-Quest Minas Tirith, before the arrival of Arwen and Elrond and their party, fairly early into Frodo's recovery - but far enough out that he is no longer in danger. It is a deviation from my usual practise of assuming Gondorian food to be Italian in nature. Please pardon the amount of canon-bending in this. If you can't tolerate some fun with canon, then you definitely don't want to read this, as it's not exactly what you'd call orthodox. ;) Oh, and you may notice that Sam reacts differently to shrimp here than he expresses in "Into the East." I tend to vary in whether I keep my fics consistent across the board...and one thing I love to vary is Frodo and Sam in their reactions to fish and seafood. It makes me happy to explore.
And this was another one that took a surprise turn on me. I thought it was done, but I felt like something was missing, and I caught hints of it as I was titling the piece...but when I started to paste it over to post here, I suddenly knew what was missing, so I went back and finished it. Man, talk about fic taking you places you didn't even know you were going to go....
Love,
Febobe :)
"I still don't see why you had to move me *here*," Frodo grumbled as Aragorn tucked him into the big bed. "I was quite happy in my own room."
"I have my reasons, Frodo," said Aragorn, smiling. "Are you quite certain you do not wish to lie outside on the balcony? I assure you, you will be in no danger."
"I'm sure I'd take a chill," sniffed Frodo indignantly. "And then a fever. And then how would you feel?"
"Begging your pardon, sir, but it *is* a very nice day out there," Sam put in, propping pillows behind Frodo's shoulders and head. "Not a cloud in the sky."
"Most likely it's waiting for me to come out," said Frodo gloomily. "Then it'll pour. And I'll get soaked before Aragorn can get me inside, and I'll catch cold."
"Suit yourself," Aragorn replied. "I, however, have things to do outside, so *I* shall be on the balcony."
"You aren't going to leave me alone, are you, Sam?" asked Frodo plaintively.
"O'course not, sir." Sam smoothed Frodo's covers and took a seat on a stool beside the bed. "I'll be right here. You just tell me what you want."
"Lunch, in a while," said Frodo. "I do hope they have something nice. I'm tired of soup and jellies."
There was a crackling sound from the balcony. Sam did not stir, but Frodo cast a suspicious glance in that direction.
"Is Aragorn quite certain the king's chambers are secured?" he asked. "I could swear that sounded like someone setting a fire."
"He's sure, sir," said Sam. "I helped him check, too. You just rest now. Everything's fine."
A few more crackling and popping sounds ... and then ... Frodo sniffed, eyes widening.
"Sam, that's - that's *smoke*!"
"It is, sir. But smell. It's not so bad."
Frodo sniffed nervously. "It smells like applewood," he said. "What would applewood smoke be doing up here?" He looked toward the balcony, the open doors between it and the room in which he lay. "Aragorn," he called, "what *are* you doing out there? I smell smoke!"
"Perhaps you should let Sam walk you out so you can see!" called Aragorn.
Frodo glared in the direction of the voice, but glanced at Sam.
"He knows I've hardly walked since - everything," he said miserably in an undertone. "I don't know that I feel strong enough."
"Come now, sir. You can do it. I'll help. And if you start feeling at all faint, I'll pick you right up and carry you straight back to bed."
"I suppose I could try," sighed Frodo, sitting up and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. He looked at the floor as if it were made of boiling lava. "I'm so afraid."
"It's not far, Mr. Frodo. And the view from up here is downright beautiful. I promise. You'll be glad to be out. Strider's made up a little bed for you and all, with blankets and pillows. You can be comfortable."
Grudgingly Frodo slipped down onto the floor, leaning against Sam for support, and ventured his weight onto his feet. With cautious steps he began to move toward the balcony, hesitating now and then, leaning on Sam like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood.
As they approached the open doors, Frodo blinked, stopping dead in his tracks. There was some sort of brazier or something out there, set up close to the height of Aragorn's waist, or a little taller, and from it came smoke. Aragorn was setting things on it - cobs of corn, patties of meat, and skewers, or so it seemed, filled with mushrooms and onions, others with some little creatures Frodo had never before seen, little pink things with strange tails.
"What are you doing?" asked Frodo. "Is it not dangerous to have a fire here? Are you cooking?"
"It is a grill, Frodo, and quite safe, I assure you." Aragorn turned, smiling broadly. "The applewood chips make the most delicious grilled meats and seafood and vegetables. I thought it might help your appetite to enjoy a little cook-out of sorts." He gestured to a well-laid-out couch set with blankets and pillows some distance from the grill. Beside it stood a small table with glasses and a pitcher of some pale yellow liquid with slices of yellow fruit floating within. "Sit down. I am sure Sam would not mind pouring some lemonade for the two of you to enjoy while lunch is cooking."
Frodo inched toward the couch, still supported by Sam, but he looked back toward the grill now and then with interest.
"What are those little pink things with tails?" he asked. "I do like lemonade, but I've never seen those before."
"They are called shrimp," Aragorn said as Sam helped Frodo settle on the couch. "They are a kind of sea-food, and many people find them a great treat. I thought that you two might like them. These are what we call honey-grilled shrimp. They are marinated in honey before grilling, to sweeten the flavor."
"That *does* sound nice," said Frodo. "And one can hardly go wrong with grilled mushrooms, after all."
"Indeed." Aragorn smiled as Sam poured Frodo a glass of lemonade and offered it.
"Do you want a glass, Strider, sir?" asked Sam.
"I think I would like that, thank you, Sam," said Aragorn, turning some of the skewers and poking at the wood chips with a long metal thing, apparently designed for just such a purpose. He gestured toward a long table set out close by. "Perhaps when you have had some lemonade as well, you can look over our other dishes and tell your master what all we have for our lunch besides what is on the grill."
Sam brought a glass of lemonade over, then poured one for himself and went to examine the table.
"Sir, there's plenty o'cold salads," he said, "potato, and cabbage too, and some kind with corn and tomatoes and bell peppers, and there's plenty o'good fresh butter for the corn Strider's grilling, and some salt, and plates o'nice fresh vegetables - sliced tomatoes, and lettuce leaves, and sliced red and yellow onions, and lots o'pickles. A little pot o'mustard. Some kind o'red sauce. Sliced cheese, too. And there's cookies, gingersnaps and sugar cookies with frosting. And there's something here I hadn't seen before. Looks like taters to me, only they're - they're sliced up and fried crispy and thin."
"They are called potato chips," said Aragorn. "Have you not made them in the Shire?"
"Not like that," said Sam. "But they do look nice."
Frodo looked intrigued. He sat up, sipping his lemonade. "Could I have one potato chip, please?" he asked, looking at Strider. "Please, may I?"
"One, yes, for each of you," said Aragorn, "so that you will not spoil your lunch. But I warn you that you will not wish to stop at one. In fact, I suspect that I shall have to have them made for you on a regular basis once you taste them. They are quite ... addictive."
Sam brought a chip over to Frodo, and took a smaller one for himself. Both bit in, and their eyes widened. Sam looked at the plate in astonishment.
"Now, sir, *that* is *good?*!" he said emphatically. "I reckon I could make that, but that's not something I ever did think o'doing."
"They're salty," said Frodo. "Perfect."
"I thought you would enjoy them," said Aragorn with a grin. "A few minutes longer, and we may fill our plates. And besides the lemonade, I have a surprise." He gestured toward another area of the balcony, where - to Frodo's surprise - mugs waited on a table beside a great barrel.
"Beer?" Frodo asked, almost gaping. "Aragorn, is that beer? May we have some?"
"With lunch, yes, of course." Aragorn winked. "I thought that since neither of you have had any beer since - well, Rivendell - you might enjoy a few mugs of it now. There is plenty, and it is well chilled. I even had the mugs chilled especially, to make it more pleasant. Cold beer goes very well with honey-grilled shrimp." He gestured to a plate of buns beside him. "And I have another treat. Here in Gondor they like to grind beef and make what are called hamburgers. They are simply patties of ground beef. That is what all the trimmings on the table are for, the vegetables and pickles and sliced cheese. People here like to dress their sandwiches with these things."
"They do smell lovely," said Frodo, sniffing appreciatively. "I am absolutely starved."
Aragorn grinned. "Starved was what you were when I took you from Gandalf's arms," he said, "and feared that you would never wake again. Hobbits were not meant to be thin, but round of belly and face, with rosy cheeks and full stomachs. I am very glad to hear that you are hungry."
Frodo pinked a little. "Forgive me," he said. "Sometimes I forget."
"I am glad of it," said Aragorn. "I wish for you to forget as much as you possibly can of what you have endured. We must make new memories for you, to push out the darkness. Would you like to have cook-outs like this again? We could invite your cousins. Or we could just make it the three of us."
"I should like to have one with my cousins," said Frodo, "and Gandalf too. Do you think Legolas and Gimli would like to come as well? Would that be all right?"
"I am sure they would be delighted," said Aragorn, removing food from the grill and laying it out on platters, then carrying two at a time to the table and arranging them. "Sam, do you think you could help your master walk around and choose for himself what he would like? I can prepare his plate if you will help him."
"I can walk," said Frodo, setting his glass on the table and rising. "I can do it myself. I feel stronger out here in the air."
Sam looked at Aragorn in wonder, but Aragorn only smiled.
"As you wish, Frodo," he said. "If you feel shaky or faint, you need only tell us, and we will help you. Would you like Sam to help you prepare your plate?"
"Yes, please," said Frodo. "I should like that."
Sam, beaming, accompanied Frodo around the table as he selected small servings of everything. They heeded Aragorn's advice that some people liked the red sauce on shrimp, and mustard on their "hamburger," and before long Frodo had dressed his "hamburger" with a mountain of lettuce leaves, sliced tomatoes, sliced sweet pickles, cheese, and a little mustard, positioning it next to the skewers of grilled shrimp and vegetables on his plate. Once Sam had helped him settle on the couch, more lemonade was poured and a mug of beer fetched.
"Help yourself now, Sam," said Aragorn. "I shall go last."
Sam blushed, but Aragorn was obviously not going to take no for an answer, so he filled his own plate and settled down on another couch close to Frodo. Aragorn filled his plate and sat upon a bench beside the table, stretching his long legs out before him.
"It's WONDERFUL," said Frodo a few mouthfuls later. "That shrimp - how do you eat it? It's beautiful. I could make a meal off the mushrooms and onions, or the burger, but I want to try the shrimp."
"Do not eat the tails," Aragorn explained, and proceeded to instruct the hobbits in the finer points of eating shrimp. The moment Frodo bit in, his eyes went wide as saucers.
"Oh!" he cried, as soon as he had swallowed. "Oh, THAT is LOVELY! Aragorn, promise me we can have these again, please! Soon!"
"They are nice," said Sam, looking quite surprised. "And right sweet, too, with that honey on 'em."
"They're *delicious*," said Frodo. "Not as good as mushrooms, but nearly. And that "hamburger" is amazing. I could eat those every day, I think."
"Some day when we have the others, we shall make those and grilled sausages, too," said Aragorn. "There is something they do with sausages here called "hot dogs." They are not made of dog, but of spiced meat, and yet they are not exactly like the breakfast sausage you eat, more the other sort, such as you might travel with. I have seen hobbits grill sausages over the fire; it is something like that, only we put them on buns, with mustard and pickle relish and sometimes onions and a dish called chili, which is the hamburger meat crumbled up and cooked like a stew with hot spices."
"There is so much I do not know about Gondorian food," said Frodo. "I want to try it all while I am here. Will you teach us how to make the ground meat things? We could take that back home with us. I am sure we could get butchers to grind the beef for us."
"I would be happy to help you," said Aragorn. "The recipes would seem quite simple to hobbits, I think. We shall ensure you take some new tastes home from your travels."
"Home," said Frodo, and sighed. "I cannot imagine what it will be like to go home." He looked at Sam. "I know you must long to see Rosie. I wish I could take you to her now. Forgive me, Sam."
"Ain't nothing to forgive, Mr. Frodo." Sam smiled. "Nothing at all. We'll get back there soon enough, and I reckon she'll be there still. Just you think on getting stronger, getting your health back. Eat up as much o'this good food as you can. That'll help you better'n anything."
"I don't suppose there's any more grilled mushrooms," said Frodo hopefully, casting a glance in Aragorn's direction.
"I have two skewers with your name on them," said Aragorn, fetching them for him. "Eat up."
"Thank you," said Frodo. "Sam, would you like some too?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "Just you eat those up. Do you good."
They ate quietly for a time. At last Frodo looked up, studying Aragorn, then Sam.
"You knew," he said. "The two of you planned this, to get me outside."
"Did it not help?" asked Aragorn.
Frodo nodded, a soft smile brightening his features.
"It did," he said. "Thank you."
He paused and took another sip of lemonade. At last he drew a shaky breath.
"I am sorry," he began, "about earlier. It is only that - well, it all weighs on my mind at times, and at others it seems like a terrible nightmare no longer real. And yet I feel - broken, for lack of a better word. I do not feel really *well* again yet, nor do I feel any hope that I ever shall feel better, though I suppose it is possible. I still ache for the Ring, and it makes me wonder whether there is yet some darkness in my heart too deep for even the light to penetrate."
"You are but mortal, Frodo," said Aragorn, "and no mortal can resist the lure of that thing entirely. You managed far better than most, better than any human or elf would have, were they to carry it for even half so long. Do not fear! The ache may never pass. But it says nothing dark about you that it is there."
He looked down into his beer-mug.
"As for how you feel ... I do not know what will happen with the passage of time. I fear for your health. But it will do you much good to enjoy all that you can, to get up as much as you can manage, to walk in the sunshine and fresh air of the city, to eat and drink, to laugh whenever you can. At the very least, you may thus bring pleasure to your days. More so than remaining in bed. I will not force you past your strength, but I will tell you that you are recovered enough to be up and about as you can tolerate, and to eat what you would like, when you would like, though I would urge you to eat often, for you still have much weight to gain back."
His eyes met Frodo's.
"I will do all that I can to aid you. As will Sam. As will all the others, who love you as dearly as we. But you must first learn to help yourself."
Frodo swallowed.
"It's like when I was getting over my wound in Rivendell, isn't it?" he asked. "Remember when Sam was helping me button my shirt, and Lord Elrond said that I must do it myself? I was angry with him, and hurt, and my shoulder ached, but I fastened the rest of the buttons myself, and the more he made me exercise my arm the stronger it grew. It is not as strong as it was before, but it is much better when first I woke in Rivendell."
"It is *exactly* like that," replied Aragorn. "Only now you must exercise every part of body and spirit, for all of you was deeply hurt. And it will be more painful, because there is no part of you which remained untouched by the hurts you have taken. But we can make it as pleasant for you as possible - there are many nice things to enjoy in Minas Tirith, and many foods to try, and many things you might wish to see and do. Eowyn has offered to teach you and Sam and Pippin how to ride horses; she thinks you could learn, though you may always prefer ponies. She will not put you in danger. And Faramir longs to show you the great libraries, where thousands of books sit waiting for a reader to enjoy them. You might even, with an escort, visit the markets. There are many wares sold in Minas Tirith now that the city is no longer under siege. There are stalls which sell food. I can make certain you have coin in plenty to spend." He smiled sadly. "I cannot take away the pain, Frodo. But you can learn how to ease it, if only you will permit us to help you. If you prefer to pass the rest of your days in bed, treated as an invalid, you may. I will not refuse you anything. But I think that you would be happier up and about again."
"But I am so afraid!" gulped Frodo, swallowing a sob. "I am frightened."
"Of what?" asked Aragorn, abandoning mug and plate to pull up a stool beside Frodo, putting a gentle arm around the thin shoulders.
"Of hurting more. Of - of the pain. Of not being able to do things I could before."
Aragorn cradled Frodo close as Sam moved to sit on the couch beside his master, patting his legs through the blankets.
"Frodo, do you know how you entered Mordor - the only way in?"
Frodo gulped again, tears flowing down his pale cheeks. "Y-yes. Through th-the pass. Th-the spider."
"Yet you came out alive. But - " Aragorn touched Frodo's cheek tenderly. "The only way out, Frodo, was *through*."
Frodo blinked, looking up at him.
"I th-think I understand," he said softly.
"And we're not leaving you, neither, Mr. Frodo," said Sam firmly. "You don't have to do this by yourself. You don't have to do anything by yourself. We're right here. You know I wouldn't leave you."
"Nor would I," said Aragorn. "Nor would any of our companions. Not even Faramir, who loves you as a brother. If you wish for help, you have only to ask."
"Thank you," murmured Frodo. "I - I shall try." He looked out across the balcony, over the city, and then back at Aragorn. "Maybe a - tomorrow, could we - I mean, I would like a picnic. In the gardens somewhere. I want to see them. Everyone could come who can."
"I think that would be a splendid idea," said Aragorn. "I shall go and arrange it." He glanced toward the grill. "I put out the fire when I finished. Do avoid it if you get up; it will still be quite hot. Do you think the two of you will be all right if I make some arrangements and come back - with more lemonade?"
Two curly mops of hair bobbed in agreement. Frodo sniffled and dried his tears with his napkin.
"Then I shall return shortly," said Aragorn, rising. He bent to kiss the top of Frodo's head. "All shall be better, Frodo. That much I promise."
"Well," said Frodo when they were alone. "I suppose I must apologise. I've been awful, Sam. Do forgive me, please. I don't mean to be so helpless."
"Ain't nothing helpless about you, Mr. Frodo." Sam smiled. "And ain't nothing to forgive, neither. You're fine. Just you keep doing what you need to do to get better. And if you need me, I'm right here to help."
"As you always have been." Frodo leaned forward and embraced Sam tightly. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I shall try my best."
"Don't reckon you can do a bit better than that, sir." Sam embraced Frodo in return. "Do you think you'd like another couple mushrooms, sir? I've got some left I didn't get to."
"One more, perhaps. You eat the other." Frodo laughed. "I'll eat one if you'll eat one."
"Agreed, sir."
Some time passed before Aragorn returned. When he did, however, he laughed so hard that he nearly dropped the pitcher of lemonade in his hands. Setting it aside, he put a hand over his mouth, but his eyes were warm.
Frodo and Sam were still waiting on the balcony, but they had fallen asleep, side by side, on Frodo's couch. Frodo was still tucked in beneath warm blankets, but Sam lay beside him, one arm protectively over his master, the habit not yet broken.
Gently Aragorn reached down, took an extra blanket from the foot of the couch, and tucked it around Sam. Quietly he began to clean up the remains of the cook-out.
The world - and the lemonade - could wait.
-the end-