The drive to the hospital seemed to take an eternity. Sean huddled on the back seat,
wrapped in a fog of fear. His knees and palms hurt from contact with the graveled driveway -
the result of Billy's flying tackle - and his ears still rang with the brutal directness of Viggo's
words. "You're wasting time, Sean," he had said bluntly. "Give me the keys - I'll drive."
Pointless 'what ifs' skittered like mice through the mazes of his mind. I shouldn't have let
him go with Dom. . . I should have driven. . . should have made him see the docto. . . oh god,
what if he wasn't wearing a seat belt. . . his brain stopped, paralyzed.
Elijah. Broken. Battered. Bleeding. Hurting. . .
His breath escaped in a wrenching sob. Why can't I feel him? How could I not know?
The neon sign over the door read 'Emergency', in bright, gory letters. They crowded in, the
Fellowship minus one, and Peter waved from where he stood talking to a man in a white
coat. "He's all right!" he yelled, his voice buoyant with relief. "He wasn't hurt!"
"Well - that's not entirely true, Mr. Jackson," the doctor said chidingly. "Mr. Wood has a badly
wrenched shoulder and some soft-tissue injuries that he will likely be feeling tomorrow, but
overall, he was extremely lucky for someone meeting a tree at considerable speed. He was
belted in, hence the shoulder, and it seems that he was entirely limp when he hit the airbag.
Claims to have fallen asleep, actually." He shot the director a keen look. "He is also very
debilitated. They're doing some more tests right now; it may be several hours before the
blood work is done."
Sean felt a surge of relief that was painful in its intensity. He had to see Elijah - see him for
himself. He had to banish the terrifying images that still seethed in his mind.
"I want to see him - I have to see him," he pleaded, and Billy and Dom echoed his request in
the same breath. "Please..."
The doctor - Dr. E. Sims, his nameplate read - extracted a scrap of paper from his coat pocket
and glanced at it. "Mr. Sean Astin?" Sean nodded eagerly. "He's been asking for you, and
you may be able to help us with a problem." The doctor motioned toward the inner door.
"You can have ten minutes - and you can come too, Mr. Jackson. I'm sorry, but the rest of you
will have to wait."
~~~~~
Elijah looked up as they entered the cubicle, his cobalt eyes too bright in a too-pale face. He
sat on the narrow examining table, his right shoulder bound to his torso with bandages.
They'd removed his shirt, and it lay over a chair, the yellow light of the room picking out
points of light reflected from bits of glass.
"Sam. Finally," he sighed, as Sean's arms wrapped around him carefully, trembling with the
effort of holding back. "I'm sorry I messed up. Shit, Pete, I'm so sorry..."
"Frodo. You had to try and take a shortcut to Mordor, didn't you?" Sean tried for levity,
couldn't find it, and his voice shifted, to encompass a painful tenderness. "Without your
Sam, too." His throat tightened, and he buried his face in Elijah's hair. "Don't ever go where I
can't follow..." he whispered shakily.
Elijah's free arm tightened around Sean's neck and his eyes closed for a moment. A tear
leaked out and rolled down his cheek, and he smiled tremulously as Sean disengaged
himself.
Peter cleared his throat noisily. "Brat. D'you know how impossible it would be to replace
you?" He paused, caught by his own words, and muttered, "Even if I wanted to."
"This will mess up the filming schedule, won't it," Elijah said penitently.
Peter shook his head, "Nah - we'll have to defer the Matrix moves, but there's plenty you can
do on your knees, if need be. We'll get you over this, and then we'll see."
"About that problem," the doctor interrupted. "From what I gather, Mr. Wood is in serious
sleep deprivation, and yet he absolutely refuses to take a sedative. I'm relying on both of you
to change his mind."
"I'm not stupid!" Elijah protested. "I just don't want to take it here. Can't Doc Irwin give it to
me at home? Back at the hotel, I mean. You'll stay with me, won't you, Sean?"
"He's taking one too," Peter said, before Sean could reply. "You all will - and if you resist, I
can always have Lawrence and Sala hogtie you all and sit on you."
The thought of the hulking Maori actors made the two smile, as Peter had intended it would.
"Don't worry," he assured the frowning doctor. "I can invoke contract and clause if I must.
He'll cooperate."
~~~~~
Ian insisted that they all spend the night at his house, and Peter called the doctor and told
her to meet them there. The master bedroom was turned into a makeshift infirmary, with
mattresses all over the floor and extra bedding brought over from somewhere. Viggo, Bean
and Ian volunteered to watch the sleepers in shifts, and after a late supper, the doctor made
the rounds with her needle, and did the deed.
Viggo had the first watch, and he settled with a book by the window, bathed in the glow of a
small lamp. Sean felt sleep pulling insistently at him and looked over at Elijah beside him in
the big bed, shoulder supported by a cushion, already deeply asleep. Viggo caught his eye
and nodded. "Go to sleep, Sean," he said quietly. "I'll keep an eye on him."
Sean smiled at the image that rose from his memory: Strider the ranger, still watching over
his hobbit charges. He closed his eyes, strangely comforted, and slept.
~~~~~
The night was segueing into dawn when Viggo entered the room again. Ian looked up from
his book, surprised.
"You couldn't sleep?" he asked quietly, concern on his face. "Are you dreaming again?"
Viggo answered with a short nod, and glanced around at the sleepers. They had obviously
had a restless night. Dom lay half on the mattress, half on the floor, and Orli had thrown off
his blankets entirely. Viggo went down on a knee to pull the covers up over the smooth
shoulder and his hand lingered there for a moment. Then he straightened up and looked
toward the bed. The few feet that had separated the two earlier were gone. Now, if they got
any closer, they would merge into one. Elijah lay on his back, his head on Sean's shoulder,
tucked under Sean's chin; Sean curled toward him protectively, and above the blanket line,
their hands were visible, Sean's splayed on Elijah's chest and the smaller hand covering it,
holding it there.
Viggo looked up and met Ian's somber gaze. "You see it too," the older actor said softly.
Viggo knew what he meant. "Yes," he replied, just as softly. "I also see a lot of heartache in
it." And Ian nodded sadly.
It was noon when they started to stir, and Sean woke first, to the feel of a warm body pressed
against him, and the tickle of bed hair on his nose. He drew a startled breath, and his
sleep-dulled senses awoke to Elijah's scent, intensified by the warmth of his sleeping body.
They awoke too, to his body's predictable reaction. He held his breath as he eased himself
away carefully and slid out from under the covers, almost treading on Billy as he got out of
bed.
Sean stood under the full force of the shower, his heart hammering in his chest. He lathered
himself up quickly, and as his hands passed over the swell of his hobbit's belly, he looked
down, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a tiny grin. It didn't bother him as much as
it used to, and that was all due to Elijah.
Not too long ago, they'd been listening to John go on about how successful the movies were
going to be, until they'd half believed it themselves. Later that day, in wardrobe, Elijah had
looked at their reflections in the full-length mirror and laughed. "Wouldn't it be cool, Sean, if
a hundred years from now, people will still be watching these films and seeing us?" He'd
giggled and then sobered suddenly. "That'd be like real immortality, you know?"
Sean had stared at himself as Sam, pudgy and lumpen, and at Elijah, made up as the
innocent Frodo, slim and glowing, so beautiful, and he had made a face and turned away.
He didn't always feel this way, but that day he'd been feeling the extra thirty pounds and the
heaviness weighed on his spirits.
With the uncanny insight that he sometimes showed, Elijah had immediately grasped his
mood and had grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to face the mirror. "Sean," he
had said earnestly, "When this is gone," and he touched his finger to Sean's belly in the
mirror, "and this is dust," and he touched his face, "Samwise Gamgee will live on. Sam is the
best of what you are, Sean. He is decency, devotion, courage, and so much love." Elijah had
met his eyes in the mirror and smiled. "The best of what you are is beautiful, Sean. And
that's what will live forever."
Sean closed his eyes, lost in the memory, and his soapy hands slid down to grasp the hard
swell of his prick. He could still smell Elijah, and the scent called up images that scrolled
across the surface of his memory. He stroked himself slickly, imagining the glorious eyes,
filled with love, the parted lips, swollen with need, and his mouth gaped in a silent cry as his
seed splashed against the tiled wall and slid down to mingle with the water and disappear.
~~~~~
Dr. Susan Irwin looked around at the anxious faces around her. Elijah was curled up in the
armchair, his head held at a stiff angle. He had insisted on showering without any help, and
was still pale from the consequences of his stubborn insistence. Sean sat on the floor beside
him, and his body language spoke volumes.
"I had Elijah's blood work-up sent to me," she began. "No sign of drugs or alcohol in his
system - " she paused as Sean let out an incoherent sound of protest and smiled
sympathetically. "I won't demean the rest of you by asking for samples either." She looked
around the group again, mentally ordering her thoughts.
"Peter told me about the dreams, and that they still continue, and he also assured me that
this isn't one of your pranks." She looked sternly at the younger hobbits. "If I hadn't seen the
state you were all in last night, I might not have believed him even then. This must be one for
the psych journals - quite unprecedented, as far as I know. And I - " and she took a deep
breath, "don't know anything. I'm a doctor of the body, not of the mind, so I'm sending you to
a specialist. His name is Dr. Robert Dowling, and he was one of my professors in University;
one of the best in his field. He holds the chair of Psychology at Victoria U. You can trust him
implicitly." She consulted a piece of paper and went on, "Good thing he's a fan of the books
too, and has agreed to give up his Sunday to see you. I've made appointments tomorrow for
Elijah, Sean, Dom, Billy, Orlando, and Viggo."
"Hey!" Billy protested. "Why me and Vig? All right, so we've had weird dreams too, but
nothing like theirs!"
"I can't tell you why right now," the doctor said calmly, "but I've told Rob a little of what I
know, and he was adamant that he see all six of you." She shrugged. "It's up to you, you
know. We can't force you to go."
"Billy..." Elijah said pleadingly.
Billy subsided, muttering, "Never been to a headshrinker yet. I like me the way I am!"
Dr. Irwin smiled in relief. "Good - I'll confirm the appointments then." She smirked, "Rob
doesn't know what a treat he's in for - he's gonna owe me after this!"
Sean stared at her gleeful face and a tremor of unease slid up his spine.
~~~~~
"I can't believe this! You're going to do what?" Sean was on his feet, his face scarlet. The
others sat frozen in their chairs, stunned speechless.
Dr. Dowling had met them at the door, a vigorous man in his late fifties dressed in casual
clothing. Well, it was Sunday, after all. His eyes were kind, and the laughter creases at their
corners reassured them. The consulting rooms were well appointed and spacious, as befitted
someone of his prominence, and one wall was papered with framed diplomas. The amount
of alphabet soup depicted was decidedly impressive.
Introductions had been made, forms filled out and confidentiality agreements signed, all at
the doctor's insistence. He said wryly that they were as much for his own good as theirs.
Then he had talked to them one by one and questioned them about the Dream, followed by
penetrating questions that touched upon their families, their work before 'Rings' and various
events in their lives. It took two and a half hours before they were all done, enough time to
make them restive. Then Dr. Dowling assembled them in the outer office again and looked
at them searchingly.
"Can I take it that all of you want to know why you've been having this particular nightmare?"
he had asked without preamble. "It will stop, you know. It may stop tomorrow, or it may
take months to go away entirely. It all depends on what caused it, of course. I know Mr.
Jackson wants it stopped yesterday, but you still have a choice." He paused, and repeated,
"Do you want to know?"
They had glanced at each other uncertainly and then back at him.
"I want to know," Viggo said with certainty.
They had murmured their agreement, Billy and Sean lagging far behind the others. Sean
didn't like this at all. He had so many issues buried deep within his psyche; from his troubled
childhood, his uncertain parentage, and his struggle for normalcy. And then there was his
latest aberration... No. He didn't like this one bit.
The doctor leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and continued, "I asked to see all
six of you because I believe that all your dreams have a common origin. I - do not believe in
coincidence. Every event has a cause, and so does every dream, whether you remember it or
not. We need to find out what has triggered yours." He paused for a moment, and seemed to
be choosing his words carefully. "Dr. Irwin didn't tell you this, because I asked her not to. I
have another specialty, one for which I am fully qualified - celebrated, even. I am a licensed
hypnotherapist, and I use the discipline of hypnosis in my practice."
Their eyes had widened and someone snorted audibly. The doctor's smile was gently
mocking.
"Why are you surprised?" he'd asked. "It's not uncommon in psychiatry. In a way, none of
you are strangers to it - you use a form of self-hypnosis in your work, every day." He looked
keenly at Elijah, his brows raised. "When you play Frodo, are you not Frodo completely? Do
you not feel his emotions; react as he would react? You actors speak so easily of 'owning your
characters', of being 'submerged' in them. And so you are, in truth."
Elijah's eyes had flickered to Sean reflexively, before he caught himself and transferred his
gaze to his clasped hands. A rosy flush stained his translucent skin, and a tiny smile played
around the corners of his mouth. Sean had stared at the smile, and felt his own face redden.
Dr. Dowling regarded the two with amusement, and continued in a lecturing tone, "Hypnosis
is defined scientifically as an artificially induced state of relaxation and concentration in
which deeper parts of the mind become more accessible." He'd laughed and added, "Drier
than the mumbo-jumbo that you hear from stage magicians, isn't it? We use it clinically to
reduce reaction to pain, to promote free association, and other things."
Orli and Dom had been openly fascinated; they'd leaned forward in their chairs, their eyes
gleaming. Elijah gnawed absently at his ragged nails, his eyes riveted on the doctor's face.
Billy and Viggo leaned back, their faces neutral, in the universal pose of 'come on, convince
me'; and Sean was so tensed up that he fancied he could hear his spine creaking, and he
could feel a cramp growing in his lower back.
"You will be good subjects, by the way," the doctor had said. "Don't be misled by the popular
misconception that only people of moderate or low intelligence can be hypnotized. That is a
fallacy - they are the hardest. The best subjects are individuals who have trained memories,
who are used to concentrating for long periods of time. People like you." He paused to drink
from the glass of water at his side. "But I digress. Hypnosis will only be a small part of what I
propose. I don't think we will find any answers in your present lives; the situation is too
unusual for that." He paused and then leaned forward, calm and sure. "In this case, with
your consent, I propose to attempt a past-life regression with each one of you."
~~~~~
"I can't believe this! You're going to do what?"
They sat frozen in their seats, except for Sean, who had gone ballistic - so unusual for him.
Dr. Dowling said quietly, "I gather some of you know what a 'past life regression' means. For
those of you who don't, I am going to attempt to take you backward, before this present life,
to see if you have had any lives before this that are impinging on the life you are living now.
Whether you believe it or not, the results of such a foray are well-documented." He rose from
his chair and looked at each of them. "I will leave you to decide. One more thing - it has to
be all of you or none. If there is one hold-out, I will not do it. It would be useless. We would
then have to try less certain, more conventional means."
With that, he left the room. Sean stared at the door, his fists clenched, fighting down the
anger that threatened to overwhelm him. It had been a long, long time since he had learned
to manage that anger, to harness it and tame it. Now it roiled in him again. Why? He
forced himself to think, coldly and dispassionately. You are afraid. What are you afraid of,
Sean? What do you fear?
The first shock passed and a babble of protest and conjecture filled the room.
"Brilliant! Let's do it!" That was Dom, who strongly believed in reincarnation anyway, and
was eager to test his beliefs.
The others stared at him blankly and returned to their heated debate. Sean looked out the
window, his eyes blind, his body stiff and unyielding. Elijah watched him covertly, a worried
frown on his face.
Viggo finally raised his hand. "It's part of the journey," he said. "I'm willing to chance it. I
may learn something, who knows?" he shrugged. "But I won't know unless I try."
Orli glanced at him sidelong. "Well, an elf can't be outdone by some smelly human - and I
won't be left out of anything. I'm in too." He shivered and muttered, "This is gonna be like
bungee-jumping, only scarier."
"I'm sure I've got nothing to be ashamed of - in this or any other life," Billy said. His face
brightened, "Anyway, if I did, wouldn't I be a pig or some kind of animal by now?" He
paused, frowned and said sheepishly, "Uh, that's the Hindus, right? Sorry. Um -- whatever."
The others laughed nervously. He turned to Elijah and asked, "What about you, Lij? You
need this the most - whatever it is."
"I'm in," Elijah said shortly, his eyes still fixed on the figure by the window. Billy followed his
gaze and shrugged. "What about you, Sean?" he called.
Sean turned and faced them, his fisted hands hidden behind his back. "There's no such
thing as reincarnation," he said. "This is - just wrong. It won't work."
"How do you know that," Viggo said mildly. "If you won't even try?"
Elijah added nothing. He glanced away and his hand came up to adjust the sling around his
neck. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Well, that's that, then. Better call the doctor
back and tell him." The rest stared at him, puzzled at his apparent lack of protest. He met
Sean's eyes and smiled, "It's okay - the doctor will find some other way."
"But - the doctor said..." Elijah looked at him and Dom snapped his mouth shut.
Elijah got up stiffly and walked toward the inner door. He raised his right hand to knock,
winced, and substituted his left. Dr. Dowling answered the door and raised his eyebrows
questioningly.
"What have you decided?" he asked.
Elijah started to reply, then stopped as a hand came down on his good shoulder.
"We'll do it." Sean's voice was rough and tight with tension.
The doctor nodded and moved past them into the room. Elijah sighed and sagged against
Sean tiredly, and a strong arm came up to support him.
"You play dirty, Frodo." Sean's whisper wafted into his ear and he shivered. He raised his
eyes and Sean caught his breath at the pain in them.
"I'm sorry, Sean. Shouldn't have done it." He took a deep breath. "If you really don't want to,
we can still..."
"No. It's okay." Sean's smile chased away the shadows, and his voice was soft and
accepting. "I just had to be reminded of what really matters most, that's all."
Dr. Dowling consulted his notes. "We'll do this in alphabetical order," he decided, and smiled
at Elijah's heartfelt groan. "The first three today, and the rest tomorrow. I've cleared my
schedule - we won't be interrupted - and I want to see all of you after Elijah's session." He
considered for a moment. "I'll take Sean now, and the rest of you can go grab something to
eat. It's almost midday, and I don't know how long this will take."
"I'm staying," Elijah said immediately. "I'm not hungry anyway."
The others said their goodbyes and made ready to leave. Dr. Dowling held up a restraining
hand and said, "There's one more thing. Please do not discuss amongst each other the
results of each other's sessions. Not until all of you are done, and we have debriefed. This is
important. Do I have your word?"
They all muttered assent and Sean moved toward the inner room in the doctor's wake. He
turned at the door and held Elijah's eyes for a moment, then the door closed gently behind
him and he was gone.
~~~~~
wrapped in a fog of fear. His knees and palms hurt from contact with the graveled driveway -
the result of Billy's flying tackle - and his ears still rang with the brutal directness of Viggo's
words. "You're wasting time, Sean," he had said bluntly. "Give me the keys - I'll drive."
Pointless 'what ifs' skittered like mice through the mazes of his mind. I shouldn't have let
him go with Dom. . . I should have driven. . . should have made him see the docto. . . oh god,
what if he wasn't wearing a seat belt. . . his brain stopped, paralyzed.
Elijah. Broken. Battered. Bleeding. Hurting. . .
His breath escaped in a wrenching sob. Why can't I feel him? How could I not know?
The neon sign over the door read 'Emergency', in bright, gory letters. They crowded in, the
Fellowship minus one, and Peter waved from where he stood talking to a man in a white
coat. "He's all right!" he yelled, his voice buoyant with relief. "He wasn't hurt!"
"Well - that's not entirely true, Mr. Jackson," the doctor said chidingly. "Mr. Wood has a badly
wrenched shoulder and some soft-tissue injuries that he will likely be feeling tomorrow, but
overall, he was extremely lucky for someone meeting a tree at considerable speed. He was
belted in, hence the shoulder, and it seems that he was entirely limp when he hit the airbag.
Claims to have fallen asleep, actually." He shot the director a keen look. "He is also very
debilitated. They're doing some more tests right now; it may be several hours before the
blood work is done."
Sean felt a surge of relief that was painful in its intensity. He had to see Elijah - see him for
himself. He had to banish the terrifying images that still seethed in his mind.
"I want to see him - I have to see him," he pleaded, and Billy and Dom echoed his request in
the same breath. "Please..."
The doctor - Dr. E. Sims, his nameplate read - extracted a scrap of paper from his coat pocket
and glanced at it. "Mr. Sean Astin?" Sean nodded eagerly. "He's been asking for you, and
you may be able to help us with a problem." The doctor motioned toward the inner door.
"You can have ten minutes - and you can come too, Mr. Jackson. I'm sorry, but the rest of you
will have to wait."
~~~~~
Elijah looked up as they entered the cubicle, his cobalt eyes too bright in a too-pale face. He
sat on the narrow examining table, his right shoulder bound to his torso with bandages.
They'd removed his shirt, and it lay over a chair, the yellow light of the room picking out
points of light reflected from bits of glass.
"Sam. Finally," he sighed, as Sean's arms wrapped around him carefully, trembling with the
effort of holding back. "I'm sorry I messed up. Shit, Pete, I'm so sorry..."
"Frodo. You had to try and take a shortcut to Mordor, didn't you?" Sean tried for levity,
couldn't find it, and his voice shifted, to encompass a painful tenderness. "Without your
Sam, too." His throat tightened, and he buried his face in Elijah's hair. "Don't ever go where I
can't follow..." he whispered shakily.
Elijah's free arm tightened around Sean's neck and his eyes closed for a moment. A tear
leaked out and rolled down his cheek, and he smiled tremulously as Sean disengaged
himself.
Peter cleared his throat noisily. "Brat. D'you know how impossible it would be to replace
you?" He paused, caught by his own words, and muttered, "Even if I wanted to."
"This will mess up the filming schedule, won't it," Elijah said penitently.
Peter shook his head, "Nah - we'll have to defer the Matrix moves, but there's plenty you can
do on your knees, if need be. We'll get you over this, and then we'll see."
"About that problem," the doctor interrupted. "From what I gather, Mr. Wood is in serious
sleep deprivation, and yet he absolutely refuses to take a sedative. I'm relying on both of you
to change his mind."
"I'm not stupid!" Elijah protested. "I just don't want to take it here. Can't Doc Irwin give it to
me at home? Back at the hotel, I mean. You'll stay with me, won't you, Sean?"
"He's taking one too," Peter said, before Sean could reply. "You all will - and if you resist, I
can always have Lawrence and Sala hogtie you all and sit on you."
The thought of the hulking Maori actors made the two smile, as Peter had intended it would.
"Don't worry," he assured the frowning doctor. "I can invoke contract and clause if I must.
He'll cooperate."
~~~~~
Ian insisted that they all spend the night at his house, and Peter called the doctor and told
her to meet them there. The master bedroom was turned into a makeshift infirmary, with
mattresses all over the floor and extra bedding brought over from somewhere. Viggo, Bean
and Ian volunteered to watch the sleepers in shifts, and after a late supper, the doctor made
the rounds with her needle, and did the deed.
Viggo had the first watch, and he settled with a book by the window, bathed in the glow of a
small lamp. Sean felt sleep pulling insistently at him and looked over at Elijah beside him in
the big bed, shoulder supported by a cushion, already deeply asleep. Viggo caught his eye
and nodded. "Go to sleep, Sean," he said quietly. "I'll keep an eye on him."
Sean smiled at the image that rose from his memory: Strider the ranger, still watching over
his hobbit charges. He closed his eyes, strangely comforted, and slept.
~~~~~
The night was segueing into dawn when Viggo entered the room again. Ian looked up from
his book, surprised.
"You couldn't sleep?" he asked quietly, concern on his face. "Are you dreaming again?"
Viggo answered with a short nod, and glanced around at the sleepers. They had obviously
had a restless night. Dom lay half on the mattress, half on the floor, and Orli had thrown off
his blankets entirely. Viggo went down on a knee to pull the covers up over the smooth
shoulder and his hand lingered there for a moment. Then he straightened up and looked
toward the bed. The few feet that had separated the two earlier were gone. Now, if they got
any closer, they would merge into one. Elijah lay on his back, his head on Sean's shoulder,
tucked under Sean's chin; Sean curled toward him protectively, and above the blanket line,
their hands were visible, Sean's splayed on Elijah's chest and the smaller hand covering it,
holding it there.
Viggo looked up and met Ian's somber gaze. "You see it too," the older actor said softly.
Viggo knew what he meant. "Yes," he replied, just as softly. "I also see a lot of heartache in
it." And Ian nodded sadly.
It was noon when they started to stir, and Sean woke first, to the feel of a warm body pressed
against him, and the tickle of bed hair on his nose. He drew a startled breath, and his
sleep-dulled senses awoke to Elijah's scent, intensified by the warmth of his sleeping body.
They awoke too, to his body's predictable reaction. He held his breath as he eased himself
away carefully and slid out from under the covers, almost treading on Billy as he got out of
bed.
Sean stood under the full force of the shower, his heart hammering in his chest. He lathered
himself up quickly, and as his hands passed over the swell of his hobbit's belly, he looked
down, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a tiny grin. It didn't bother him as much as
it used to, and that was all due to Elijah.
Not too long ago, they'd been listening to John go on about how successful the movies were
going to be, until they'd half believed it themselves. Later that day, in wardrobe, Elijah had
looked at their reflections in the full-length mirror and laughed. "Wouldn't it be cool, Sean, if
a hundred years from now, people will still be watching these films and seeing us?" He'd
giggled and then sobered suddenly. "That'd be like real immortality, you know?"
Sean had stared at himself as Sam, pudgy and lumpen, and at Elijah, made up as the
innocent Frodo, slim and glowing, so beautiful, and he had made a face and turned away.
He didn't always feel this way, but that day he'd been feeling the extra thirty pounds and the
heaviness weighed on his spirits.
With the uncanny insight that he sometimes showed, Elijah had immediately grasped his
mood and had grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to face the mirror. "Sean," he
had said earnestly, "When this is gone," and he touched his finger to Sean's belly in the
mirror, "and this is dust," and he touched his face, "Samwise Gamgee will live on. Sam is the
best of what you are, Sean. He is decency, devotion, courage, and so much love." Elijah had
met his eyes in the mirror and smiled. "The best of what you are is beautiful, Sean. And
that's what will live forever."
Sean closed his eyes, lost in the memory, and his soapy hands slid down to grasp the hard
swell of his prick. He could still smell Elijah, and the scent called up images that scrolled
across the surface of his memory. He stroked himself slickly, imagining the glorious eyes,
filled with love, the parted lips, swollen with need, and his mouth gaped in a silent cry as his
seed splashed against the tiled wall and slid down to mingle with the water and disappear.
~~~~~
Dr. Susan Irwin looked around at the anxious faces around her. Elijah was curled up in the
armchair, his head held at a stiff angle. He had insisted on showering without any help, and
was still pale from the consequences of his stubborn insistence. Sean sat on the floor beside
him, and his body language spoke volumes.
"I had Elijah's blood work-up sent to me," she began. "No sign of drugs or alcohol in his
system - " she paused as Sean let out an incoherent sound of protest and smiled
sympathetically. "I won't demean the rest of you by asking for samples either." She looked
around the group again, mentally ordering her thoughts.
"Peter told me about the dreams, and that they still continue, and he also assured me that
this isn't one of your pranks." She looked sternly at the younger hobbits. "If I hadn't seen the
state you were all in last night, I might not have believed him even then. This must be one for
the psych journals - quite unprecedented, as far as I know. And I - " and she took a deep
breath, "don't know anything. I'm a doctor of the body, not of the mind, so I'm sending you to
a specialist. His name is Dr. Robert Dowling, and he was one of my professors in University;
one of the best in his field. He holds the chair of Psychology at Victoria U. You can trust him
implicitly." She consulted a piece of paper and went on, "Good thing he's a fan of the books
too, and has agreed to give up his Sunday to see you. I've made appointments tomorrow for
Elijah, Sean, Dom, Billy, Orlando, and Viggo."
"Hey!" Billy protested. "Why me and Vig? All right, so we've had weird dreams too, but
nothing like theirs!"
"I can't tell you why right now," the doctor said calmly, "but I've told Rob a little of what I
know, and he was adamant that he see all six of you." She shrugged. "It's up to you, you
know. We can't force you to go."
"Billy..." Elijah said pleadingly.
Billy subsided, muttering, "Never been to a headshrinker yet. I like me the way I am!"
Dr. Irwin smiled in relief. "Good - I'll confirm the appointments then." She smirked, "Rob
doesn't know what a treat he's in for - he's gonna owe me after this!"
Sean stared at her gleeful face and a tremor of unease slid up his spine.
~~~~~
"I can't believe this! You're going to do what?" Sean was on his feet, his face scarlet. The
others sat frozen in their chairs, stunned speechless.
Dr. Dowling had met them at the door, a vigorous man in his late fifties dressed in casual
clothing. Well, it was Sunday, after all. His eyes were kind, and the laughter creases at their
corners reassured them. The consulting rooms were well appointed and spacious, as befitted
someone of his prominence, and one wall was papered with framed diplomas. The amount
of alphabet soup depicted was decidedly impressive.
Introductions had been made, forms filled out and confidentiality agreements signed, all at
the doctor's insistence. He said wryly that they were as much for his own good as theirs.
Then he had talked to them one by one and questioned them about the Dream, followed by
penetrating questions that touched upon their families, their work before 'Rings' and various
events in their lives. It took two and a half hours before they were all done, enough time to
make them restive. Then Dr. Dowling assembled them in the outer office again and looked
at them searchingly.
"Can I take it that all of you want to know why you've been having this particular nightmare?"
he had asked without preamble. "It will stop, you know. It may stop tomorrow, or it may
take months to go away entirely. It all depends on what caused it, of course. I know Mr.
Jackson wants it stopped yesterday, but you still have a choice." He paused, and repeated,
"Do you want to know?"
They had glanced at each other uncertainly and then back at him.
"I want to know," Viggo said with certainty.
They had murmured their agreement, Billy and Sean lagging far behind the others. Sean
didn't like this at all. He had so many issues buried deep within his psyche; from his troubled
childhood, his uncertain parentage, and his struggle for normalcy. And then there was his
latest aberration... No. He didn't like this one bit.
The doctor leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and continued, "I asked to see all
six of you because I believe that all your dreams have a common origin. I - do not believe in
coincidence. Every event has a cause, and so does every dream, whether you remember it or
not. We need to find out what has triggered yours." He paused for a moment, and seemed to
be choosing his words carefully. "Dr. Irwin didn't tell you this, because I asked her not to. I
have another specialty, one for which I am fully qualified - celebrated, even. I am a licensed
hypnotherapist, and I use the discipline of hypnosis in my practice."
Their eyes had widened and someone snorted audibly. The doctor's smile was gently
mocking.
"Why are you surprised?" he'd asked. "It's not uncommon in psychiatry. In a way, none of
you are strangers to it - you use a form of self-hypnosis in your work, every day." He looked
keenly at Elijah, his brows raised. "When you play Frodo, are you not Frodo completely? Do
you not feel his emotions; react as he would react? You actors speak so easily of 'owning your
characters', of being 'submerged' in them. And so you are, in truth."
Elijah's eyes had flickered to Sean reflexively, before he caught himself and transferred his
gaze to his clasped hands. A rosy flush stained his translucent skin, and a tiny smile played
around the corners of his mouth. Sean had stared at the smile, and felt his own face redden.
Dr. Dowling regarded the two with amusement, and continued in a lecturing tone, "Hypnosis
is defined scientifically as an artificially induced state of relaxation and concentration in
which deeper parts of the mind become more accessible." He'd laughed and added, "Drier
than the mumbo-jumbo that you hear from stage magicians, isn't it? We use it clinically to
reduce reaction to pain, to promote free association, and other things."
Orli and Dom had been openly fascinated; they'd leaned forward in their chairs, their eyes
gleaming. Elijah gnawed absently at his ragged nails, his eyes riveted on the doctor's face.
Billy and Viggo leaned back, their faces neutral, in the universal pose of 'come on, convince
me'; and Sean was so tensed up that he fancied he could hear his spine creaking, and he
could feel a cramp growing in his lower back.
"You will be good subjects, by the way," the doctor had said. "Don't be misled by the popular
misconception that only people of moderate or low intelligence can be hypnotized. That is a
fallacy - they are the hardest. The best subjects are individuals who have trained memories,
who are used to concentrating for long periods of time. People like you." He paused to drink
from the glass of water at his side. "But I digress. Hypnosis will only be a small part of what I
propose. I don't think we will find any answers in your present lives; the situation is too
unusual for that." He paused and then leaned forward, calm and sure. "In this case, with
your consent, I propose to attempt a past-life regression with each one of you."
~~~~~
"I can't believe this! You're going to do what?"
They sat frozen in their seats, except for Sean, who had gone ballistic - so unusual for him.
Dr. Dowling said quietly, "I gather some of you know what a 'past life regression' means. For
those of you who don't, I am going to attempt to take you backward, before this present life,
to see if you have had any lives before this that are impinging on the life you are living now.
Whether you believe it or not, the results of such a foray are well-documented." He rose from
his chair and looked at each of them. "I will leave you to decide. One more thing - it has to
be all of you or none. If there is one hold-out, I will not do it. It would be useless. We would
then have to try less certain, more conventional means."
With that, he left the room. Sean stared at the door, his fists clenched, fighting down the
anger that threatened to overwhelm him. It had been a long, long time since he had learned
to manage that anger, to harness it and tame it. Now it roiled in him again. Why? He
forced himself to think, coldly and dispassionately. You are afraid. What are you afraid of,
Sean? What do you fear?
The first shock passed and a babble of protest and conjecture filled the room.
"Brilliant! Let's do it!" That was Dom, who strongly believed in reincarnation anyway, and
was eager to test his beliefs.
The others stared at him blankly and returned to their heated debate. Sean looked out the
window, his eyes blind, his body stiff and unyielding. Elijah watched him covertly, a worried
frown on his face.
Viggo finally raised his hand. "It's part of the journey," he said. "I'm willing to chance it. I
may learn something, who knows?" he shrugged. "But I won't know unless I try."
Orli glanced at him sidelong. "Well, an elf can't be outdone by some smelly human - and I
won't be left out of anything. I'm in too." He shivered and muttered, "This is gonna be like
bungee-jumping, only scarier."
"I'm sure I've got nothing to be ashamed of - in this or any other life," Billy said. His face
brightened, "Anyway, if I did, wouldn't I be a pig or some kind of animal by now?" He
paused, frowned and said sheepishly, "Uh, that's the Hindus, right? Sorry. Um -- whatever."
The others laughed nervously. He turned to Elijah and asked, "What about you, Lij? You
need this the most - whatever it is."
"I'm in," Elijah said shortly, his eyes still fixed on the figure by the window. Billy followed his
gaze and shrugged. "What about you, Sean?" he called.
Sean turned and faced them, his fisted hands hidden behind his back. "There's no such
thing as reincarnation," he said. "This is - just wrong. It won't work."
"How do you know that," Viggo said mildly. "If you won't even try?"
Elijah added nothing. He glanced away and his hand came up to adjust the sling around his
neck. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Well, that's that, then. Better call the doctor
back and tell him." The rest stared at him, puzzled at his apparent lack of protest. He met
Sean's eyes and smiled, "It's okay - the doctor will find some other way."
"But - the doctor said..." Elijah looked at him and Dom snapped his mouth shut.
Elijah got up stiffly and walked toward the inner door. He raised his right hand to knock,
winced, and substituted his left. Dr. Dowling answered the door and raised his eyebrows
questioningly.
"What have you decided?" he asked.
Elijah started to reply, then stopped as a hand came down on his good shoulder.
"We'll do it." Sean's voice was rough and tight with tension.
The doctor nodded and moved past them into the room. Elijah sighed and sagged against
Sean tiredly, and a strong arm came up to support him.
"You play dirty, Frodo." Sean's whisper wafted into his ear and he shivered. He raised his
eyes and Sean caught his breath at the pain in them.
"I'm sorry, Sean. Shouldn't have done it." He took a deep breath. "If you really don't want to,
we can still..."
"No. It's okay." Sean's smile chased away the shadows, and his voice was soft and
accepting. "I just had to be reminded of what really matters most, that's all."
Dr. Dowling consulted his notes. "We'll do this in alphabetical order," he decided, and smiled
at Elijah's heartfelt groan. "The first three today, and the rest tomorrow. I've cleared my
schedule - we won't be interrupted - and I want to see all of you after Elijah's session." He
considered for a moment. "I'll take Sean now, and the rest of you can go grab something to
eat. It's almost midday, and I don't know how long this will take."
"I'm staying," Elijah said immediately. "I'm not hungry anyway."
The others said their goodbyes and made ready to leave. Dr. Dowling held up a restraining
hand and said, "There's one more thing. Please do not discuss amongst each other the
results of each other's sessions. Not until all of you are done, and we have debriefed. This is
important. Do I have your word?"
They all muttered assent and Sean moved toward the inner room in the doctor's wake. He
turned at the door and held Elijah's eyes for a moment, then the door closed gently behind
him and he was gone.
~~~~~
