CHAPTER 1
Frodo pitched forward, his already bruised and battered ribs impacting hard with the boulder strewn ground and driving out what little breath his gasping lungs contained. For a moment all sensation of sound, touch and sight fled as he lay, trying to draw air back into his body. Then feeling came crashing back, eliciting a loud cry as several different sites of pain vied for his attention.
Two sets of hands rolled him on to his side, producing a level of agony that he had not thought possible, and still retain consciousness. Legolas and then Sam's faces swam into view behind the dark spots crawling across his vision.
Sam laid a hand on his shoulder. "Mr Frodo. Just lay still a minute."
Pain had not dulled his memory, however, and Frodo tried to rise, knowing that there may be orcs only minutes behind them. A bright spear of pain lanced through his left thigh and this new input was finally sufficient to push him over into blessed oblivion.
He was having a nightmare. He had to be. A bare landscape was bouncing past his barely focused eyes and with each jogging movement pain blasted through him. He struggled to escape, feeling that if he could just lie still for a moment the pain may subside, but he was crushed against someone's chest. Summoning all his energy, Frodo lifted his head to try and ascertain who it was that held him and felt some measure of relief when Aragorn's face, and not that of an orc, came into focus above him.
The ranger had obviously sensed his attempts to move for he glanced down and gasped, "Hold on, Frodo. You're going to be alright."
That was all he had breath for, however, as he continued to run. Frodo grabbed a handful of his friend's shirt in an effort to remain upright and concentrated on trying to stay conscious through the pain that drove through him at every jolting step.
At one point they flew past Legolas. The elf was standing, bow in hand and arrow nocked to let fly at something behind them. Moments later he overtook them, the quiver strapped between his shoulder blades, bereft of arrows. Frodo lost the battle to stay alert shortly after that and the blackness closed around him once more.
A bright light was shining in his eyes and he could hear voices but they seemed to be coming from a long way off. The only thing that was clear was his name. Someone was talking about him. He was no longer being carried and his body appreciated the stillness. For the moment the level of pain was endurable and Frodo decided to try opening his eyes. He was lying on his right side, squinting against the bright sunshine and he could see Merry and Pippin trying to light a small fire a few feet away.
Legolas' voice came from somewhere behind him. "He is awake again, Aragorn." Frodo tried to turn, to see the elf and cried out as the action caused a rekindling of pain in his side and leg. Strong but gentle hands restrained him and something behind him prevented him rolling on to his back.
Legolas' face bent over him. "Lay still, little one. Aragorn will tend to your hurts in a moment." A cool hand stoked his brow and he complied, his back resting against the elf's knees.
Lying still, and trying to bring the pain under control, Frodo attempted to piece together the events that had lead up to this moment.
-0-
Boromir had picked him up bodily when he had tried to run to the wizard. Frodo's own screams had almost drowned out Gandalf's last instruction, "Fly, you fools."
And then Gandalf had disappeared over the edge of the crumbling bridge and Boromir had fled; along with the rest of the fellowship, only setting Frodo down when they had left the doors of Moria behind them, and only then to stop Gimli from returning to try and rescue their guide. Frodo felt tears begin to slide down his cheek again as his memory brought back the image of Gandalf's face; acceptance of his fate written clear.
Aragorn had taken up the role of leader, then, gathering up the scattered group and leading them on towards Lorien. It was nearly sunset when they left the gates and they had not travelled far before darkness descended. Taking refuge in a small dip, the only cover in this sparse landscape, they had not dared to light a fire; knowing that orcs would be abroad in the darkness.
Frodo did not know how they had managed to avoid detection for most of the night. His side and back had been hurting abominably, as a result of the spear thrust and he suspected that he may have cracked or broken ribs, for he was feeling a little feverish. There was no point complaining, however, as there was little to be done to comfort him in these wilds. Fortunately, Frodo had drawn the first watch, so once that was over he could roll himself in his blanket and sleep until morning. So he had hoped, but a combination of pain, fever and grief had kept him always on the edge of sleep and by the time the first glimmers of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky he had slept only in snatches and was feeling very weary.
Aragorn had shaken him awake from one of his naps, clapping a hand over his mouth when he tried to ask what the matter was. Then Frodo had heard the orcs shouting to one another. The fellowship had lain silent and still, Aragorn and Boromir with swords drawn and Gimli with a firm grip on his axe. Legolas crouched with drawn bow, within the shadow of a wind blasted gorse bush. The hobbits had drawn their swords too, although they were wise enough to know that their lack of skill meant they would be of little use if it came to a fight. At least they may be able to defend themselves.
The lead orc had time for only one yell of surprised discovery before Legolas' first arrow caught him in the throat. After that, there was no chance of hiding and Aragorn had lead the way as they sprung up to defend themselves as best they could. Fortunately, with the waning of the night, most orcs had returned to the dark sanctuary of Moria and this was only a small scouting party, running back before the first rays of the sun could catch them. Of the original twelve, only two remained standing by the time Aragorn decided to call his group to run fearful even now, that the noise of fighting may attract others.
It was as they had been running that Frodo had fallen. Memory of the fall brought a renewal of the pain and he tried to remember why he had tumbled. Hobbits were not as light footed as elves but they were most certainly sure footed and Frodo could not understand why he had tripped.
He tried to raise himself on one arm to look at his left thigh, which was throbbing painfully. Unfortunately, the movement brought more agony to his left side and he did not need Legolas' hand on his shoulder to guide him back down.
"What is wrong with my leg?" Frodo managed to gasp, clutching his arms about his ribs. Aragorn knelt down before him, tucking a blanket around the trembling hobbit. Frodo had not realised how cold he was until he felt the warmth of the woollen fabric around his shoulders and he sighed with relief.
Aragorn's looked into his eyes steadily, assessing Frodo's response to what he was about to say. "You have an arrow in your thigh."
Frodo felt his stomach turn a queasy flip flop and swallowed hard against the rising nausea. Aragorn waited until Frodo's eyes returned to his.
"Once Merry and Pippin have the fire going I will remove it and then tend to your side. I had quite forgotten about the spear. Why did you not mention it last night?"
Frodo tried to dissemble, unwilling to submit to the removal of his outer clothing and exposure of the mail shirt beneath it. "I didn't want to bother anyone and the pain wasn't too bad."
"Legolas tells me that he watched you all night and you hardly slept. If the pain was bad enough to keep you awake I should think it was bad enough to need attention," the man reproved.
"I don't want to be a burden. You big people do so much and I didn't want to cause
any more trouble. You have enough to worry about, now that we are without …..Gandalf." He had to say the name around a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat and blink back another tear.
"Frodo. You are not a burden and healing, at least, is something that I can do to help ease the burden you carry."
Sam joined them at that moment, carrying another blanket and Legolas helped him drape it carefully around their ailing friend, making sure that it did not put any pressure on the arrow shaft, which protruded from both sides of Frodo's leg.
"Here's your pack, Strider. Pippin's got the fire going and Merry's set some water to boil".
"Thank you, Sam." Aragorn took the pack and began to rummage through it, while Sam pushed Frodo's hair back from his damp brow and smiled. The smile didn't quite make it to his eyes, however, and it gave Frodo little comfort.
Trying to take his mind off his own body, Frodo asked, "What happened to the other orcs?"
Sam smiled. "Master Legolas finished 'em off, Mr Frodo. They didn't stand much of a chance against him when he got room for a good shot."
Legolas laughed behind him. "It was not as easy as all that. My last arrow went wide and I had to beg one from Aragorn to finish the final orc."
The conversation continued above him but Frodo found that the voices were fading in and out and a grey mist was creeping over the world. Somewhere in the distance he thought he could hear someone singing softly but he could not make out the voice or the melody.