CHAPTER 6
When they broke camp it was Aragorn who carried Frodo until they stopped, late in the morning. Sam was just making Frodo comfortable when Aragorn returned with bandages and warm water.
"Are you feeling any better, Frodo?"
"Hot……….Sam won't let me take……..blankets off," replied Frodo, a little peevishly. "Dizzy if I move too fast."
Legolas had followed his friend. "The dizziness and fever are symptoms of the poisoning, I'm afraid."
Sam helped Frodo out of his shirt so that chest and back could be treated first. The cuts and abrasions were healing well and the bruises were turning an amazing kaleidoscope of black, purple, green and yellow. Aragorn bathed them once more, to be sure of preventing any infection, and then padded them with soft linen, held in place with a bandage.
"There is little I can do about the cracked ribs, I'm afraid, but I will give you something for the pain before we continue." Aragorn found his patient's silent acceptance more worrying than his previous stubbornness.
Supported by Sam's ever present hands, Frodo watched as the bandage around his leg was unwound. Aragorn soaked the pads covering the wounds, before gently peeling them back. The area around the holes was bruised but the wounds themselves were no longer bleeding and did not feel hot to the touch. Again, the healer bathed them with Athelas water and then covered them with fresh linen pads and bound them in place. That done, Frodo was wrapped comfortably in his blankets again and left to rest.
He was surprised to find that he had been dozing, when Aragorn shook him gently and made him take a couple of swallows of sweet liquid from a small earthenware bottle. The ranger smiled and pointed over his shoulder, to where Legolas stood, arms folded.
"Your carriage awaits you, master hobbit." Legolas gave his deepest courtly bow and, grinning widely, bent to lift Frodo into his arms. Frodo managed a weak smile. At least Legolas' gait was smoother than Boromir's.
The potion Aragorn had given Frodo dulled the pain and, combined with the gliding stride of the elf; lulled him into a drowsy haze. To his relief, the beautiful song returned, pulling him high above the pain and fever and wrapping him round with comfort.
The party stopped briefly to eat at mid day but Frodo could be persuaded to take nothing, other than a small cup of peppermint tea. He curled up on his uninjured side within the warmth of his blanket and cloak. The pain was growing again, however, and the longed for sleep would not come. He opened his eyes when he recognised Aragorn's footstep and the ranger settled on the ground before him. Although Frodo had not heard him approach, Legolas sat down next to his friend. With the feeling that he knew what was coming next, the hobbit struggled into a sitting position, the motion making him feel a little dizzy and forcing Aragorn to reach out a hand to steady him.
"I'm alright, Aragorn. I just sat up too quickly."
One eyebrow lifted, in an action that reminded Frodo strongly of Lord Elrond. "You should eat, Frodo. Sam has made this broth and will be offended if you do not at least try it."
Frodo eyed the liquid and found his stomach churning at the prospect of taking even the smallest swallow. He picked up the cup but as soon as he got it beneath his nose his stomach started to protest and he hastily thrust the cup back at the Ranger, doubling over and retching once more.
-0-
"Thank you," whispered the Ringbearer, as Boromir tucked his own heavy brocade, fur-lined cloak about the shivering hobbit.
Frodo closed his eyes against the mid day glare and tried to regain control of his belly. Aragorn had seen him pale as he picked up the cup and had caught him easily as he brought back the peppermint tea.
Once the heaving had stopped he had scooped up the gasping hobbit and set him down closer to their small fire, where Boromir had volunteered to care for him while Aragorn and Legolas conferred in hushed tones, watched by the rest of the hobbits and Gimli. Wary of the Steward's intentions, Sam came to sit with his master, returning Boromir's scowl with a challenging glare of his own. Normally a rather timid hobbit, however, he was somewhat relieved when the man was the first to break eye contact. Before the cloak swallowed Frodo Sam noted that his Master's hand rested against his chest, above the ring, clutching it even in his distress.
Boromir picked up the water canteen that the ranger had left and lifted the Ringbearer's head slightly, bringing the canteen to Frodo's mouth and trickling a little of the cool water between the hobbit's lips. Frodo swallowed, gratefully and sighed as he was lowered back into the soft warmth of the fur. Sam found himself a little surprised at the gentleness of the man's actions. He had always been rather wary of the soldier, as he had made no secret of his desire to use the ring.
When he considered their journey so far, however, Sam became uncomfortably aware of how much he took for granted the protection offered by Boromir's strong arm, and shield. In every battle they had encountered so far the steward had unwaveringly placed himself between the danger and any or all of the hobbits, even to the point of picking up and carrying a distraught Frodo from the Mines of Moria after Gandalf had fallen.
Sam felt tears prickling his eyes as he thought of the old wizard and clenched his jaw to stop a quiver that threatened his bottom lip. How he missed the old man's presence. Strider was a good man but he was a soldier and he lacked Gandalf's comfortable manner.
Aragorn rummaged in his pack, searching for the healer's kit that Elrond had carefully prepared for him, putting in extra items that he considered suitable for treating the smaller hobbits. The box had slipped to the bottom of his pack but its shape was easy to find by touch alone. Legolas waited at his shoulder.
"The carebnesta is not working, is it?"
Aragorn shook his head. "No. The fever is as strong as ever and the constant nausea worries me. Fortunately, he seems to be able to keep water down but his body needs more than water. I think, perhaps, we made the dose too small in our worry not to overdose him. It may have done some good, however. There has been no reoccurrence of the convulsions."
The Elf shuddered. "I don't remember much of my own experience I'm afraid. The healers had dosed me heavily with sleeping droughts. I was rather unwell for quite a while, that much I do remember. It could be that it simply takes longer to work in a hobbit." He did not sound convinced.
Aragorn continued sorting through the contents of his box. "You were safe at home too. Here we have no time to let his body rest. Even though we are not asking him to walk he cannot rest properly, being constantly jostled."
Aragorn found the bag he had been looking for and pulled out some slivers of ginger root. Returning to the fire, where Pippin and Merry were willing a pot of water to boil, he handed the pieces to the younger of the two. "When the water has boiled, make a cup of tea from this and take it to Frodo. Add a pinch of salt and a large spoonful of honey and try to get him to drink it all if you can."
Frodo was lying curled warmly in Boromir's cloak. His eyes were closed and he seemed to have a little more colour in his cheeks. Aragorn knelt down and felt for a pulse. At his touch Frodo's eyelids fluttered open and blue eyes tried to blink into focus. The ranger smiled. "Feeling a little better?"
"Yes. A little. I'm sorry I'm such a nuisance."
"Do you think you can cope with being moved again? If we travel through the afternoon we can shelter in the eves of Lorien tonight. It will be safer than being out in the open."
Frodo nodded. "I think so."
Aragorn knew that the Hobbit probably wanted nothing more than to lie still, for the constant motion was most unpleasant for someone feeling sick and dizzy. Whilst it now seemed unlikely that Frodo would die from the poison, if he did not rest and take in more fluids the nausea and fever would eventually weaken him and could result in his death.
"Pippin will bring you some ginger tea in a moment. It will help to settle your stomach."
Frodo's eyes widened. "I don't think I can, Aragorn," he whimpered.
The Ranger pushed a stray tendril of hair behind Frodo's ear. "Please try it Frodo. You must take in more fluids or your body will not have the strength to fight the poison."
Frodo closed his eyes and nodded.