CHAPTER 4
Frodo was trying, very hard, to take deep slow breaths, without making it too obvious to the others in the room. The volume of the voices was getting higher and higher, as tempers grew hotter. As usual, it had been Legolas, the elf, and Gimli, the dwarf, who had set the whole thing off. They had been pouring over maps in the library. The Ringbearer had not even heard Legolas' first comment, for it had been muttered under his breath and he had been at the opposite end of the large map table. Gimli had been standing nearer, however, and it was painfully obvious that he had heard it very clearly. Frodo suspected that half of Rivendell clapped hands over their ears at the volume of the dwarf's response, "Typical elf. Eyes so fixed on the heavens that you're no earthly good." Aragorn leapt between them as he saw Legolas' nostrils flare. "Prince Legolas!" The elf made to push him aside but the ranger caught his upper arms, a desperate plea written clear on his face. "Remember your royal upbringing." It would have worked too, if Gimli had not chosen to express his disgust at Legolas' teachers. Boromir had grabbed the dwarf from behind and hauled him out of the way, as Legolas almost broke free of Aragorn's grip. Even that would have been recoverable if Boromir had not decided to add his comments on the upbringing and habits of both elves and dwarves. Now, even Strider had to shout to make his pleas for calm heard over the other three and Sam and Frodo withdrew to a corner by the long windows.
By then, Frodo was fighting his own battle, as his stomach grew tighter and threatened to reject his breakfast. A knot of panic began to work its way up to his chest from his belly and the angry voices faded away, only to be replaced by the thud of his own heartbeat. Tears of fear, pain and frustration began to flow steadily down his face, as he lost the fight to control his gasping breaths. Sam was standing in front of him, trying to make himself understood, but the words entering Frodo's ears were a stream of gibberish that his confused mind could make no sense of. With each hitching breath the tingling in his fingers grew worse and he began to fear that he would faint or throw up. This made matters worse, for the last thing he wanted to do was show any weakness before these strangers.
Suddenly, three loud bangs drummed temporary counter beat to his heart and Frodo felt the wooden floor beneath his bare feet vibrate. "ENOUGH." Well used to making himself heard across the din of a battle field, Elrond's voice carried over all, and the room was brought to a startled silence. He turned to Gandalf, who let his staff touch the floor one last time. "Mithrandir, would you kindly have a word with your companions, while I take these gentlehobbits for a walk." He had carefully placed himself between Frodo and the others, so that the diminutive hobbit was hidden by the elf's flowing robe, and now he turned; dropping a hand on Frodo's shoulder and guiding him before him, through the open glass doors and into the garden beyond. Sam took Frodo's elbow to help support his shaking master. Once out of sight of the windows, Elrond swept Frodo into his arms and strode quickly across the lawns to the sanctuary of his study; Sam running at his side to keep up.
Depositing Frodo in a large, padded chair by his desk, Elrond hunkered down before him to assess the damage. "Sam, would you pass me my tunic from the chair by the fire?" Sam ran to fetch it and Elrond wrapped it closely around the trembling Frodo. "I tried to get him to breath proper, Master Elrond, but he doesn't seem to hear me." Making his decision, Elrond lifted Frodo into his arms and sat in the chair, the hobbit cradled on his lap. "It's alright, Sam. You did well to try but these things take time." Elrond's voice was soft once more. Realising that matters had got beyond self help the healer laid hands upon his patient, resting one lightly on Frodo's back and the other on his brow. Then he closed his eyes and began to push calm and comfort into the trembling body. Sam sighed in relief as his masters breaths grew deeper and longer. Frodo's eyelids fluttered shut and the shaking subsided, as Elrond began to use his hand to rub soothing circles on the hobbit's back, continuing to pour peace and, finally, sleep into the tiny frame. Within minutes, Frodo was resting against the elf lord's chest, lost in healing dreams.
