Fear numbed Frodo as he laid down. The Ring would not be safe in Bree, not until Gandalf came. But they didn't have much time. No doubt the black riders were close behind. Frodo didn't know where to go, how to get where the Ring could be protected. He could feel its power growing, the tension rising.
Sev watched from a distance as terror gripped him. He seemed to strain breathing. She stepped out of her shadows, from the corner behind where Strider sat at the window to watch the outside world. She sat down on the bed beside Frodo, and he could feel the mattress sink just a little at the added pressure. She laid a gentle hand to his shoulder, beneath his cloak, and probed his back with her warm fingers.
Soon he rolled over. The moonlight from the nearby window shed a beam across her eyes, illuminating the white against her initial darkness. He couldn't but stare for a moment: they were intense, but protective, hopeful, soft in a way. Familiar. Eyes of a friend he recognized. His best friend that didn't want anything bad to happen to him.
"I'm afraid, Sev," he said finally.
It took her aback to see Frodo so worried, so dark. She leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned up, and she pulled him into a tighter embrace; her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, holding him close, while he embraced her back. The warmth dizzied Frodo, and he nearly slacked against her.
One of her hands rubbed his shoulders. "You'll be okay." Then her voice dropped to a whisper, and she lifted her lips to his ear as she spoke. The movement caused Frodo to tense. "I so swear, you will make it home alive and safe. If anything harms you, I will break it." She meant it. She couldn't imagine letting anything alone if it tried to hurt him. Frodo wanted to believe her, held by her arms and words. She wanted to protect him.
But she couldn't do everything, as hard as she tried. Having the one she loved in her arms for a moment gave her motivation as she felt his heart pulsing throughout his core, near her where nothing could touch him. Her eyes pricked when she spoke; she never imagined he would let her promise anything.
Finally Frodo settled back. "Thank you," he said. She laid him down and told him to rest, letting her finger trace his forehead before she backed away. He tried to sleep, he really did. Worry filled his mind, numbing his senses and blocking sleep.
Even as Sev turned to the window to watch outside, Strider beckoned her to stand before him. "You care for him?"
Sev nodded assertively. "More than he will ever know." Strider cocked his head, so she continued. "I could die for him, Strider, and would feel the better for it. But he doesn't know, will never know." Not at this rate of his attentions, anyway.
Strider bowed his head. "I am sorry. But I'm glad he has an able guardian." He laid a hand on Sev's shoulder. "Keep him safe."
The ranger didn't need to say it, and both of them knew it. But something about the man's words stirred memories of Gandalf and Bilbo saying the same thing deep within Sev, and she almost thought she could hear Willation saying the same. Keep him safe. Keep him safe.
"Yes, sir," Sev said.
Strider leaned back in his chair. Both he and Sev turned to the window, glancing across the way to where the hobbits' original room lay.
"Do you have someone as well, Strider?" Sev asked, not turning her gaze.
Strider grew remorseful. When Sev finally looked up, she almost thought he no longer did, if he ever had. Then he said, "She is giving up her immortal life for me." He shook his head slowly. "War is upon us. She would be safer with her people."
Sev's eyebrows lifted. "An Elf?" she whispered.
The ranger nodded to Frodo. "You cannot blame me," he said with a slight grin. "Your preference seems to lie in the Elvish as well."
Sev turned to look at Frodo. She could tell he didn't hear them; his eyes were too wide and frightened. He had shown no recognition at any movement or sound in the room. Her gaze locked on his face, and she could feel her core begin to ache at the sight of him. Sheathed in moonlight, his gentle, pale face seemed to glow. He had slender features, she knew, but every time she realized just what he looked like, it stopped her heart. She knew this Frodo . . . better than she knew anyone else. Every time it struck her, her conviction blazed like a fire throughout her. Here her fingers gripped her dagger hilt so hard she could feel the imprint begin to carve into her skin.
They couldn't have him.
But she couldn't help him now either. Fear was the one poison she could not drain, and the only one paining him now. She could at least try.
Sev jolted when shrieks sounded behind her, and she spun to face the window. The hobbits' room flickered with dark light, and soon four or five black riders emerged. The other hobbits shot up to sitting positions, save Frodo, who still seemed lost in the depths of fear. He heard the term Nazgul as Strider explained . . . and Sev turned away from the explanation as well.
Nazgul, Ringwraiths, triggered an actual memory in Sev's mind. Willation hadn't mentioned what they were, just that dark servants of Lord Sauron—pursuing the Ring—might be a hindrance if she ever ran into the Ring. She hadn't expected to, and Willation had said he hoped she didn't. He warned her of details regardless, but she wondered how she hadn't thought of these as Nazgul.
Now she just missed Willation and everything she could have had back home . . . then realized Frodo and his reciprocation of friendship meant more to her than anything, much less Atansdorre and her "parents."
She snapped out of her reminiscing when Strider gravely announced they should get onto the road. The hobbits quickly packed up, and Strider ushered them down the stairs of the Prancing Pony. He turned back to Sev, eyed Frodo.
"Tarry a little," he said. "We shall be finding a horse to accompany us. I will return when we are ready to depart." Then he left.
Sev sat on the bed and watched. All Frodo could feel was the Ring burning against his chest as he feared becoming like the Ringwraiths, a servant to Sauron and his darkness for their greed and malice.
The anti-creature beside him bitterly asserted that the Nazgul should have been called Seville . . . blood of malice. She could share a name with the very creatures trying to destroy everything she cared about. At the thought of losing him, Sev's hand strayed to his arm, and she gently held his shoulder.
At the slight pressure coupled with soft warmth, Frodo snapped out of his fear, turning over. "Sev."
She nodded carefully.
"They are gone?"
She nodded again, stood hesitantly, and slung his pack over her shoulder. She gestured for him to come, and he followed her. He'd been too tired to notice what she picked up, or that he had none of his possessions with him but the Ring. He realized somewhere along the way, however, and while Sev made arrangements with Strider he slipped it off of her shoulders.
The group acquired a pony, Bill, set aside for Sam to lead. Strider quickly led them from the dark city of Bree out into the forest nearby, lidded with gray clouds.
"Where are you taking us?" Frodo asked finally.
"Into the wild," was Strider's only reply.
Sev glanced up at Frodo. She felt Strider trustworthy, but then knew he loved someone and didn't expect him to be an enemy after all he'd done on their behalf. Frodo's qualms were settled regardless, and he continued with conviction as he realized Strider would likely be helpful, in fact necessary.
But the rest of the group did not seem resolved.
Merry stepped close to Frodo, between him and Sev, and the latter slipped back. "How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf's? He could be working against us."
"I think a servant of the enemy would appear fairer . . . and feel fouler," Frodo replied. Then he turned his sights ahead and walked faster. "And we have no choice but to trust him."
Sam spoke up from behind. "Well, where's he leading us?"
Sev knew and opened her mouth to speak, but Strider got to it first. "To Rivendell, Master Gamgee. To the House of Elrond."
Still slipping behind, Sev matched up with Sam. "Do you hear that, Sev?" Sam asked excitedly. "We're going to see the Elves!"
Sev nodded, also excited, but more worried about Frodo as he walked ahead of her. He glanced back, watching her smile at Sam.
Sev's gaze turned to the Ring, and she could feel the pains attacking . . . her hackles raised at the dark power before her. Then the pains attacked, stabbed into her. She stepped back, staggering, and collapsed to one knee.
"Are you all right, Ms. Sev?"
She looked up at Sam, straining to see him through her blurring eyes. She nodded, trying to breathe. "Go ahead." She almost jumped at how typical her voice sounded, how the pain she felt refused to fall into her voice. She just sounded a little tired. "I have a pebble stuck between my toes; it just hurts a little bit."
Sam nodded hesitantly and continued forward with Bill. As Sev convulsed, Frodo turned back to find her. He glanced at Sam as the majority of the group continued forward.
"Sam?"
Sam turned, slowing the horse. "She says she has a pebble between her toes, Mr. Frodo." He shrugged. "Even if she needs help, I don't know that she wants it." Sam clicked, and Bill continued walking. Frodo stood still, watching as Sev's lungs began to heave uncontrollably. He stepped up to her cautiously, not sure how to react. Even after 13 years he'd never really seen her this way.
"Sev?" She didn't respond. He stepped up even closer and actually knelt down right next to her. He fingered her hair, not sure if being more open would help or hurt the situation . . . or what the situation was. He glanced at her hand tightening around her stick: her veins surged, as though her heart were malfunctioning. Taken aback he stood, unsure what else he could do but wait for her to awaken.
When Sev's eyes opened and the convulsions faded slowly and painstakingly away, she finally stood. It surprised her to see Frodo standing in front of her.
"Sev, are you all right?" he asked, wondering if she would actually tell him.
Sev shrugged, but she shivered as she did so. He settled by her side, and her eyes followed him, uncertain at his motives as well as fearing his nearness. She blinked, and Frodo brought her to her feet, offering his arm for her. She looked a little tired.
Sev accepted, but tried to take it as an opportunity to help him instead. It didn't entirely work, although as she stumbled along—the pains had decided to stick around for a while—by Frodo's side there were moments she felt like she could hold him up. It only confused him, but he didn't ask.
When they caught up to the rest of the group, Sam had set up his pans over a small fire and began cooking food. Merry, Pippin, and Strider were gathered around the fire, and Sev split off from Frodo at a welcoming gesture from Pippin. She didn't want to leave him, but felt chagrined enough at her need for support the whole way without being able to give anything back.
Frodo watched a little helplessly, sitting down to eat himself. He finished reading the novel he'd brought with him while Sev flirted with Pippin. Something flickered within him that he didn't understand . . . he'd felt it before, when she laughed with Rosie at the Green Dragon.
Jealousy. Not enough to make him despise Pippin, but he'd never felt it before. He jolted a little bit, turning back to his book with an internal refusal to take this new aspect of his character. Sev didn't notice anything; she simply felt as though she was being gracious to Pippin's attentions, as both knew they were feigned. She wouldn't have taken it as flirting unless she watched it herself.
Strider ordered them to pack everything away again, and soon they set out onto the road. Sev remained at the back, watching for signs of any Nazgul. After only an hour of walking over somewhat snowy terrain, Merry announced he felt second breakfast coming on. Sam brought Bill to a halt, and the four hobbits began unpacking the horse.
Sev shook her head and trotted off after Strider. They didn't have time, but she didn't feel she had the authority or desire to tell them to keep moving. Strider turned to her; she usually remained at the back of the group, so having her in front surprised him.
"Where is Frodo?" Sev felt a jolt at Strider's concern for Frodo, and she glanced behind her at Bill.
"Gentlemen!" Strider called out. They all turned to him. "We do not stop until nightfall."
Pippin stared up at him, although all four hobbits froze. "But what about breakfast?" Pippin asked.
Strider blinked. "We've already had it." Sev's eyes slipped closed. Finally someone understands, she thought.
"We've had one, yes," Pippin said, smug tone growing in his voice, "but what about second breakfast?" He assumed an according expression. Sev turned, a little hopeful, to Strider. The latter just shook his head and kept walking. Sev felt a minor spike of triumph, but somehow managed to contain her cackle.
Frodo ambivalently began packing again; he wasn't hungry anyway, probably wouldn't be until nightfall. Walking would leave no time or energy for hunger . . . and the Ring didn't leave any desire for it either.
Sev listened as she kept walking. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," Merry said, resigned to his fate.
Pippin wouldn't back down. "But what about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea?" His voice escalated desperately. "Dinner? Supper! He must know about them, doesn't he?"
Merry turned to him. "I wouldn't count on it."
Strider shook his head beside Sev, palmed an apple, and threw it over his shoulder. He then threw a second, and Sev heard it smack something. "Pippin!" Merry called out. Strider handed her an apple as well, and she accepted it, although she only had intention to give it to Frodo.
They walked through various terrain, woods and fields of mossy rock. Finally, in the middle of the afternoon, Frodo approached Sev. He'd felt the weight of the Ring all morning, but by her side it fizzled away from him, trying to reach her.
"I finished the book, Sev."
One of Sev's eyebrows raised as she turned to him, extending the apple. "Without me?"
Frodo grinned slightly and accepted her offer. Sev bit her lower lip as she contemplated her lips meeting that smile, if they ever would (which at this point she doubted). She thought about it a little too hard, and felt herself physically leaning a little towards him.
"I got over the contemplative spot," he continued.
"When did you have time to finish it?" Although she didn't feel like conversing, Sev didn't want him to go. She liked seeing him capable, not tainted by the Ring just yet. He had accepted food, and eaten earlier that morning. That, and she just enjoyed being around him in general.
Frodo glanced back at Pippin, remembering the way he'd spoken to Sev earlier, embraced her, kissed her hand. Sev hadn't really seemed to notice . . . in fact wouldn't have taken that as flirting had she been asked. "During breakfast. You were flirting with Pippin." He tried to make it sound lighthearted, but something pressed on him, something he didn't want to admit.
She frowned to herself. Flirting? She did not flirt. "Devil," she muttered. That didn't encourage Frodo until she shot him a jocose stare and didn't let go. He nudged her, his face burning, and caught up to Bill. Sev faltered as he left; the pains swelled as he departed, and she fell back.
Soon they entered a marsh. Frodo knew the water would likely be cold, and so backed up to be near Sev. She didn't anticipate either of them could get through without a struggle, and she subsequently grabbed his arm. They spread out from each other to maintain balance, which permitted Frodo to reach with the hand of the arm she had to grab her own arm. As they trudged through the marsh, most of the hobbits were wet from head to toe, but Frodo managed to keep his arm dry with Sev's warmth channeling through it. She called out to the other hobbits that she had a spare arm, but none of them took it. Frodo wondered if they could actually feel her warmth, if they'd have accepted had they felt it.
Sev began to weaken as they reached the border of the marsh. Her brain picked up very slowly on thousands of bites from marsh bugs all over the four hobbits, and something deep inside begged her to drain them. Holding on to Frodo forced her to take them when they came, but her intent level of refusal caused dizziness in her head. She stumbled the last few feet to somewhat dry ground, the pain spreading like a fire. Frodo lowered her to the ground, concerned, and sat down next to her, hesitantly laying a hand between her shoulders. She said nothing about it, just looked dizzy and exhausted. The other hobbits passed them by, and her desire to drain them slowly ebbed. When she internalized the feeling of Frodo's hand to her shoulders, she began to stiffen. She didn't want to get up; she wanted to savor his touch as his fingers very cautiously pressed down, moving across her shoulders very slowly.
After a few more moments, Sev felt far too perky (and a little too much of a blush coming to her face) to stay there any longer. She stood abruptly, hoping Frodo hadn't noticed her involved in what had happened just then. She held out her hand.
"I'll take your cloak. It'll dry faster hanging up." Frodo slipped the cloak over his head, and Sev slipped it over a nearby tree branch. Frodo wondered if having it on and her by his side would have been faster, but she didn't know the warmth existed; it would have done little from her perspective.
Regardless of what happened to his cloak, he wanted to be with her at least until he dried off. Then she could leave him if she really wished to. He gestured for her to sit by him, but she took no notice. She glanced at his feet, damp and almost a little muddy.
Sev gestured to his feet. "May I?"
He shrugged, not entirely sure what she wanted. She sat down and removed a small cloth from her pocket. Strider had begun to boil a bit of water, and she dipped the cloth in that after ensuring he wouldn't mind. She wrung it out, then gently rubbed the muck off of Frodo's feet. His eyes slipped closed and he laid back until she was finished; the day in the marsh apparently had left his feet desiring something. He sat up to thank her, but she laid the cloth aside, oblivious, and began pressing the balls of his feet with her thumbs. The warmth shot up through his legs and spread through his nervous system. His brain tingled, and he laid back, content to stay there.
When Sev saw his reaction, she almost wondered why he would exaggerate something like that. Sure, it might feel good (she didn't try to think about asking him to do hers), but it couldn't feel that good. She decided to turn her shock into laughter, and he followed, although he was more wistful and a little confused at her reaction. She backed away, and the warmth left with her. He thought about asking her to come back, but said nothing. If she wanted him to he would rub her feet, if it would make her stay.
Before Frodo could ask, Strider reentered camp with a deer slung over his shoulder. The hobbits looked up a little hopefully, and Sev reluctantly joined them. She helped Strider clean it, and then they ate. Frodo sat close to Sev, his arm up against hers. He still hadn't dried off yet.
No one spoke during dinner. The day had been too taxing, the task upon Frodo too great for anyone capable of speaking to handle. To follow the sinking mood Sev began humming mournful songs under her breath, and stepped away from the group as they rolled to sleep. Frodo followed, as the warmth of the fire was accompanied by smoke and ashes. She didn't really mind, in fact preferred having him nearby; when she saw him standing behind her, she patted the ground beside her, and he sat down next to her.
When Sev finally admonished him to sleep, the hobbits curled up uncomfortably in their cloaks. Sev positioned them, after Frodo fell silent, in a circle around him to keep him safe. He wondered if all this was truly necessary; if she stayed close by, nothing would happen to him.
As the other three hobbits drifted off to sleep, Strider eyed Sev. She tossed restlessly, watching Frodo sharply. "Would you like me to sing?' Strider asked quietly.
Sev nodded, hoping it would calm her nerves.
She began to drift off to the sound of his voice, but Frodo—who had been falling a little bit—abruptly awakened, listening. Sev could only tell it was a romance for the way Strider's voice accented his words with tender sincerity; Frodo translated the lyrics to himself. When he sat up, Sev's eyes slipped closed.
"Who is she?" Frodo's low voice pierced the air.
Strider turned to him; neither he nor Sev had expected him to care. Hearing those words, that concern, come out of Frodo, Sev almost hoped it could work for her. But she couldn't by any means count on it.
"This woman you sing of," Frodo clarified when Strider didn't respond.
Strider glanced at the ground, turned away from Frodo. "Tis the Lay of Luthien, an elf maiden who gave her love to Beren, a mortal."
"What happened to her?"
Strider stumbled over his words, and Sev felt a pang of intense sympathy. "She died."
Sev froze, imagining Frodo dead across her lap. She inhaled sharply, began to shudder at the thought. The image refused to leave her. Her eyes strained wide open, as though they could not see enough if they weren't on Frodo at all times.
Frodo glanced at Sev. She looked tense; he wondered what more she would give up for him.
Strider broke the silence, following Frodo's gaze. "Get some sleep, Frodo."
Frodo settled back down, and Sev waited a few minutes before turning to the ranger. "I'm sorry, Strider," she said. He cocked his head, confused. "I'm sure it worries you, to love an Elf." She bit her lip, hoping she hadn't gone too far.
Strider nodded solemnly, and his gaze flickered to Frodo. "You should rest too," he said.
Sev laid down and turned, intently watching Frodo. She allowed her eyes to close periodically, but she didn't want to sleep. Her fear began to take over as Frodo's breathing leveled. He'd heard nothing of their conversation as sleep began working through his mind, and he continued not to notice her now. He cringed, subsequent of fears emptying themselves in preparation for a night's rest as sleep stretched its liquid, uncertain fingers for him.
Sev turned to Strider. "May I go to him?"
Strider nodded.
The liquidity of Frodo's rest slowed to a halt as Sev crept over the damp earth and knelt by his side. Her warmth spread across his back and shoulder, extended to his face as she drew closer. She studied him, memorizing his gentle features before the Ring could harm them. She wanted to carry this burden herself, protect the priceless light and let him stay the way he'd always been. She lowered herself, carefully brushed her lips against his cold, fragile cheek. Frodo stiffened a little, but the soft kiss warmed every fiber of his being, and so he relaxed. His eyes slacked back inside his head until she pulled away. She lowered her lips to his ear.
"I'll never let them hurt you."