Chapter 8: Weathertop

I never knew that I could hate a name so much until the night of October sixth. But I do. Amon Sul, Weathertop, whatever you want to call it. I hate all those names-I loathe anything connected with that horrible, horrible night.

And I was so slow. I didn't get to Frodo, not in time to see the actual stabbing. Everything was so confusing. Fire, cold steel, the dust of all the ages of the world rising around us. I hit my head when the wraiths pushed me over, and for a moment I was dazed. Not even the fear, or the shouts of Merry and Pippin could clear the fog from my mind. But then a sound pierced through the confusion, the smoke, the haze, and went straight into my heart. Frodo was screaming.

In an instant I was at his side. He was crumpled in the funniest position, against a piece of broken stone. Starlight shone on his white face. And he was gasping. *No, no, he's hurt, oh, he's hurt* I took his hand in mine, feeling his fingers squeeze tighter and tighter.

"Oh, Sam!" he whispered.

Merry appeared at my side, feeling Frodo's forehead. Frodo was gasping, horrible, wrenching breaths. Then Merry touched Frodo's shoulder, and Frodo cried out and arched his back off the ground. Pippin knelt beside us, staring. I could see the innocence in his eyes, falling away like old paint off a wall. *Oh, Mr. Pippin, watching your own cousin suffer, and I can do nothing, that wide-eyed wonder at being on a journey with your friends is fading, and it's never coming back,*

I could feel tears starting in my eyes, but I had to stay calm. I had to stay calm. For a moment I remembered accidents back in the Shire, usually involving some farm machinery or someone who had gotten lost. You had to be level-headed. Every second counted. Strider was fighting the wraiths, and I'd just have to leave that up to him. My job was to take care of my master.

Gently, I began to rub Frodo's arm and his chest. Frodo was trembling all over.

"It's all right." I said in a soothing voice that didn't at all match how I felt inside. "Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo, listen to me. Breathe now, nice and deep. Everything will be all right."

Merry kept touching Frodo's brow. "Frodo, where does it hurt? Frodo!"

Frodo could hardly breathe. Where was Strider-we needed him-Frodo needed him. "Strider!" I shouted.

In an instant, Strider was bending over Frodo.

"Get his jacket off, quickly! Be careful!" he commanded.

Merry quickly stripped off Frodo's jacket. Blood spatters covered one sleeve. I held my master's head and stroked his hair as he sobbed and gasped against me.

"Shh, shh, shh." I crooned in his ear. "Easy now."

Working together, Pippin and Merry got Frodo's waistcoat off. Then Strider said something that sent the two younger hobbits darting out of my sight. Strider fumbled with the tiny buttons on Frodo's shirt.

"Sam!" he said, gesturing.

I quickly maneuvered Frodo's arms out of his bracer straps, unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it out of the waistband of his pants. Frodo was sobbing almost incoherently.

"S-S-Sam-Sam-"

"I know. I know, dear. It's all right. Let's take a look at the cut now, that's right. Let us take care of it. Shh."

Strider began to examine Frodo's bare shoulder. "Hold him tightly, Sam. This will hurt."

I took Frodo in my arms. "Shh, I've got you."

Frodo buried his face in my neck. I could see the deep blade mark in his left shoulder, and the sluggish blood trickling down his chest, and I held him close. Strider touched the skin surrounding the wound, and Frodo gave a soft scream and grabbed onto me. I rubbed his back.

"It's all right. I know. I know. Help him, Strider!"

Strider snatched something out of the grass. It was a long knife, and the point was broken off. Instantly the blade began to smoke and wither away. I felt a chill creep up my spine. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"He has been stabbed with a Morgul blade." said Strider. "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine."

Frodo was starting to cry. I held him warmly and stroked his hair. "Hush, now, master. Sam's got you."

I felt his tears soaking into my shirt. Impulsively, I kissed the top of his head. Frodo huddled against me and sobbed.

Strider took Frodo's limp left hand. "We must get him to Rivendell." he said.

"But we can't move him!" I cried. "He's in so much pain!"

Even as I said it, Frodo arched his back and cried out softly. I had never seen him in such agony before-he had a high pain tolerance, and often insisted that he was "just fine, thank you very much", even when he obviously wasn't. This wound was strange.

"We will wait until dawn." Strider decided, stroking Frodo's hand. "I have sent Merry and Pippin for the baggage."

Then he bent and spoke softly to Frodo. "We must keep you warm, Master Baggins. We'll make you a bed beside a fire, and you can rest until daybreak. Don't be afraid."

I kept cradling Frodo in my arms, hoping to bring him some small measure of comfort. "There, it's all right, dear. Come here, you'll be all right. I know it hurts."

I kissed his forehead.

Frodo whimpered and tried to turn his head so I could kiss him again. I cuddled him against me and kissed him gently, noting in concern how his left hand hung helpless at his side.

Soon I could hear Merry and Pippin kindling a fire nearby. Strider went to speak to them for a moment, then returned. I am going to pick you up and lay you by the fire, Frodo." he said in a calm voice. He slipped one arm under Frodo's legs and supported his head and back with the other, then lifted him gently. Frodo gave one gasp and went limp.

"He has fainted." Strider said. He held Frodo against his chest and stroked his hair, murmuring to him in Elvish. Frodo's feet dangled helplessly, and his head lolled against Strider's shoulder.

"Help me lay him down, Sam." Strider said after a moment. I walked a few paces to the fire with him and helped to support Frodo's heavy head and straighten his limbs as Strider tucked Frodo into a bed that Merry and Pippin had made on the ground. Merry covered him with our softest blanket. My master lay on his back, his face stark white, his breathing shallow. I rubbed his chest, trying to help his heart and lungs to keep laboring.

"He is going into shock." murmured Strider. I didn't know what he meant by that, but I didn't like the tone of his voice. He folded a blanket to put under Frodo's feet, then covered him warmly with two more blankets.

"Everyone be very calm and quiet." he instructed. "And keep Frodo warm."

Pippin, Merry and I nodded, looking nervously at each other.

I will be back." Strider said. "He should wake in a few minutes. He will need someone to stay with him. Keep him as calm and as still as you can. Be careful of his left arm and shoulder."

Then he vanished into the night.

Merry and Pippin were busy tending to the fire. I sat beside my master, holding his hand and talking to him.

I don't know if you can hear me, Mr. Frodo, but I'm with you. I'm right here. I'm not gonna leave you. We'll all look after you, and you'll feel better soon. Shh. You keep ahold of my hand, and just keep breathing. You're doin' fine."

I tucked his blankets more comfortably around him.

Then Frodo stirred and opened his eyes. His fingers tightened around mine. "Sam?"

I smoothed his blankets and caressed his hand. "It's all right, master."

"Sam," Frodo's breath quickened. "Sam, help me."

"Shh, shh. Course I will. You lie quiet now. There's nothin' to worry about. Your Sam will look after you."

Frodo closed his eyes, still clinging to my hand. I could see the effort it cost him to be brave and quiet, and I kept talking to him.

"You're doin' fine, Mr. Frodo. Just rest. You don't have to worry about a thing–I'm here to look after you."

"Sam–I'm so afraid." Frodo whispered.

"I understand, Mr. Frodo. But you don't have to be. We're all here takin' care of you, and soon you'll feel better."

I felt that I was lying to him. I was terribly afraid. But Frodo's eyes were closed trustingly, and I gently rubbed his arm and the hand I held in mine.