CHAPTER 3
Now that the arrow had been removed they could move Frodo more easily and Legolas held the small hobbit in a sitting position against him, while Merry and Aragorn removed the clothing from his upper body, to determine what injury had been done by the spear.
Now only vaguely aware of his surroundings, Frodo's head rolled helplessly against the elf's shoulder. He made no move to protest when his shirt was unfastened and the bright silver rings of the mithril tunic were revealed to all for the first time.
Aragorn laughed. "Look, my friends! Here's a pretty hobbit skin to wrap an elven princeling in! If it were known that hobbits had such hides, all the hunters of Middle-earth would be riding to the Shire."
"And all the hunters in the world would be in vain," said Gimli, gazing at the mail in wonder. "It is a mithril coat. Mithril! I have never seen or heard tell of one so fair. Is this the coat that Gandalf spoke of? Then he undervalued it. But it was well given!"
"I have often wondered what he and Bilbo were doing, so close in his little room," said Merry. "Bless the old hobbit! I love him more than ever. I hope we get a chance of telling him about it!"
Pippin glanced up from pouring fresh warm water into a bowl. "So that's the mithril shirt that Bilbo brought back from his journeys with the dwarves."
Gimli took a closer look. "It is very well crafted. Small wonder that it turned that spear and a shame it was that the orc did not aim higher for it would have turned an arrow easily."
Aragorn began to unfasten the ties at the neck. "Aye. But I suspect he did not come away totally unscathed from the encounter with the spear."
With the help of Merry and Legolas he managed to slip it off, along with the leather vest beneath, to expose Frodo's chest. Merry sucked in a sharp breath as he surveyed his cousin's torso.
The spear had been thrust with such force that the rings of the shirt had been driven through the leather vest and in to Frodo's flesh, drawing blood at the place where the point had struck. It was not that which had caused the most damage, however. Legolas alerted the Ranger to Frodo's back. The force of the blow had driven the hobbit against the wall and a large black bruise, with much scoring from the rings of the shirt, showed just how hard he had hit. It was here that Aragorn felt the tenderness of two cracked ribs and guessed that it was this which was causing the most pain, now that the leg had been tended.
Adding more athelas to a fresh bowl of water, the ranger bathed the bruises and placed soft pads of linen beneath a broad bandage, before helping Merry and Legolas replace Frodo's outer clothing.
"Shouldn't we put the mail shirt back on him too? I don't like the idea of poor Frodo being unprotected," offered Pippin; his face a little less green now.
Aragorn handed back the white hafted knife to Legolas, who tucked it away in the brace at his wrist. "Ordinarily I would agree, Pippin. But I am worried about the effects of the poison and want to be able to get at Frodo's chest to treat him if I need to. The dressings will need changing too."
Pippin looked as though he wanted to pursue the matter but Merry put a restraining hand on his arm, nodding to the still semi conscious, Frodo. Having tended the Ringbearer's hurts they wrapped him in more blankets and left him to rest by the fire. His pains eased; at last, Frodo let himself be lulled to sleep by a gentle melody and the image of tall, silver barked trees slipping through his drowsing mind.
The others gathered around the meagre fire while Sam began to organise something to eat. Pippin tackled Aragorn again, as Merry rolled up the mithril shirt and tucked it in Frodo's pack. "What did you mean when you said that you needed to be able to get at Frodo's chest?"
Aragorn sighed, not wanting to go into too much detail, having seen how the young hobbit had reacted earlier. He did not expect him to swoon away but the Ranger saw little point in worrying him about what may happen. Better to deal with problems as they arose. On the other hand, Frodo's friends had a right to know what may be in store for him.
"Some poisons cause paralysis. If that happens I may have to help Frodo to breath, or even restart his heart."
The words were harsh and unsweetened but, for all their diminutive size, these were not children and the ranger felt that they could take the truth squarely. He felt a little sorry, however, when he saw Pippin blanch again. Merry placed an arm around the younger hobbit's shoulders and Sam reached across and squeezed his hand.
"Don't you worry, Mr Pippin. Strider said that Frodo was made of stern stuff, and he was right. Master Elrond said that Frodo had been chosen to carry the ring and I can't believe that whoever chose him would leave him now."
"Is there nothing you can give him to counteract the poison?" asked the ever practical, Merry.
"I do not know what poison has been used so I can only treat the symptoms as they appear," Aragorn replied. "At present he has a fever but that could as easily be caused by an infection in the wound or simply by his cracked ribs. The poisons used by orcs are many and varied in action." Merry realised that it was only the second time that he had seen Aragorn appear helpless: the first time had been in Moria, when they had watched Gandalf disappear into the chasm and now the Ranger's face held that same look.
Boromir and Gimli switched places on guard duty and the rest settled down to eat the meagre rations Sam handed out. Aragorn sat near Frodo, keeping one eye on his patient while he ate. He would get Sam to make a thin broth to feed his master when he awoke. Frodo would need all the strength he could get if he was to pull through this. The Ranger's first day as leader had started badly and was showing no signs of improving.
-0-
Frodo awoke to an insistent throbbing in his leg. His head ached and his body burned. He wished they had not put him so close to the fire and tried to push off the blankets that swaddled him too closely.
"Now then, Mr Frodo. Don't you go trying to take them blankets off. You'll catch a chill and that won't do." Frodo opened eyes and brought them into focus with difficulty, upon Sam's concerned face.
"Too hot….Sam."
"I know. But you've got a bit of a fever and it won't do you no good to get cold. You just lie still and I'll fetch Strider." Sam got up and moved out of his line of vision. There was a muttered conversation in the distance and then Strider came to sit beside him.
"Hello, Frodo. How are you feeling now?" He reached out and placed a hand against Frodo's cheek and then touched fingers to the pulse point in his neck. His expression grew concerned as he reached into the blankets to double check and felt the hobbits chest. The linen shirt beneath his hands was soaked with perspiration and he could feel heat rising from the hobbit in waves. Frodo's pulse was racing and his breathing was too rapid. Aragorn drew the blankets aside and checked beneath the dressings on his patient's leg. There was a slight redness around the wound but nothing to account for the level of fever in the small frame. Noting Frodo watching him, Aragorn tried to smile reassuringly.
"The wounds are healing well, Frodo. I'll see if I can get you something to help lower that fever. How are your ribs feeling?" Frodo tried to take in a slightly deeper breath and winced as a sharp pain shot through his body.
"They don't……….hurt unless………I take too deep……….a breath."
Aragorn nodded sympathetically. He had broken ribs before and knew that Frodo was probably under playing the level of pain he was in. He was a little surprised, therefore, a moment later when the hobbit volunteered the information that he had an awful headache. The man smiled brightly and looked up and beyond his charge.
"I know someone who is very good at curing headaches." There was soft laugh and Frodo's turned his head, wincing as the throbbing redoubled. Legolas' musical voice floated down to him.
"Would you like me to deal with that while you prepare the herbs, Aragorn?"
Still smiling, the Man stood. "I will return in a few minutes."
There was a rustle of movement beside him and Legolas' shadow fell across the hobbit. Frodo found himself being rolled on to his uninjured side and gentle, cool fingers teased back the blankets from his neck, coming to rest on the hobbit's shoulders. Legolas' thumbs began a circular motion while the long fingers kneaded gently at the ligaments above Frodo's collar bone. It was a little painful at first but as the elf continued Frodo began to feel his muscles relax.
"How did Aragorn know you could do this, Legolas?"
The elf laughed again. "He had a little too much to drink at a celebration feast a few years ago and had to join a patrol with me the next morning. I managed to rescue his dignity."
The fingers moved to the back of Frodo's neck swirling gently in the curls at his nape and working up his scalp to the crown. The hobbit sighed with relief as the headache began to recede and he allowed his eyes to close as the lowering pain level helped him to relax a little more. "What was that song you were singing earlier, Legolas?"
"When, Little One?"
"When I was going to sleep, earlier. It was a lovely song. What was it about? I couldn't quite catch the words. There was something about two trees…….."
Legolas paused in his kneading. "I do not remember singing then, Frodo. Perhaps you dreamed it. Sometimes fever or pain can have that effect."
As he finished, Legolas laid his hands lightly on Frodo's shoulders, where he had begun his ministrations. A sensation of cool calm sang through him and he relaxed even further, falling into a light doze.
When he was roused again, Legolas was gone and the blankets had been drawn tightly about his shoulders. Aragorn was kneeling at his side, holding a small cup of steaming liquid.
"This will help the fever, Frodo. Do you think you can drink it for me?" Frodo nodded, relieved that the action no longer set off a pounding in his head.
"Let me help you, Mr Frodo." Sam's arm slipped beneath his master's shoulders and raised him. Frodo moaned at the rekindled pain in his ribs and his two helpers waited for him to recover a little before moving him a little more. The gardener settled himself behind his friend until Frodo was leaning against his chest, his head resting against Sam's collar bone. The younger hobbit wrapped his arms carefully around his master, holding him steady and Frodo found the action very comforting, once his ribs had stopped protesting at the jostling.
He drank the bitter liquid and then allowed Aragorn to feed him a little vegetable broth, before Sam settled him back down. The Ringbearer dipped down into sleep again, letting a sweet melody draw him away from the pain and heat.