Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Middle-Earth. I don't even own my
computer! All characters, locations, etc. belong to the Tolkien Estate.
A/N: Thank *all* of you so much for the wonderful reviews and encouragement! :) Lotesse, I think you'll be happy to discover that Sam plays a pretty major role in Chapter III. I could never leave dear Sam out of my fic. :) MelodySongSinger, I'll keep going with the fic as long as there's still interest! I like LilyBaggins' idea of going on through to Rivendell. I may very well do that. Please continue to R/R! I love hearing from you guys; it's great. :) Plus, I always need ideas… I want to add depth to the story. I'm working on it. Right now I have a few ideas for some possible 'mini-plots'- if that makes any sense. :)
Chapter III
"Oh Mister Frodo… I wish so much that you could give your pain to me. Let your Sam bear it for you. I would gladly have jumped between you and the blade of that evil Wraith, had I only been able to see you…" Salty tears trailed their way down Sam's grimy face as he kneeled over the pale, still form of his wounded Master. "Why…" Sam broke off, his voice quavering. "Curse that Ring! Mister Frodo, I know it spoke to you- commanded you to slip it onto your finger. And now… now you're so sick, and… I'm so scared that I'm going to lose you. Please don't die and leave me Master!" Sam put his head in his hands and murmured, "What would your Sam ever do without you?"
Sam felt a large gentle hand clasp his shoulder reassuringly. Aragorn looked down at the hobbit and his sick Master. Samwise was so loyal. Sam would hardly leave his Master's side, save for when exhaustion overcame him and he went to his bedroll and slept briefly. "How is he doing?" inquired Aragorn. Sam looked up at Aragorn. He could see the sorrow and concern written on the Man's face, though Sam knew he tried hard to mask it. "He hasn't moved, Mister Strider, he barely breathes- and he's so very cold to the touch." Sam thought for a moment, trying to decide how to properly phrase his question and harness his emotions. "Is Mister Frodo- what's going to become of him? Will he- he won't die… will he?" Aragorn looked down pityingly on Sam's anxious face. He wanted to tell the lad that everything would fine, and not to worry. Yet, Aragorn knew that he oughtn't lie to the hobbit about the fate of his Master. "There is a chance that Frodo may survive, Sam. However, there is also a chance that he will not." Aragorn paused and looked intently into Sam's tear-filled eyes. "Frodo may become a Wraith, an undead- yet not living- being… just like the vile creature that inflicted this deadly wound upon him." At this, Aragorn stopped and kneeled down, attempting to comfort a distraught Samwise. "Sam, many things will affect the outcome of this trial. Many things we cannot do for Frodo. He must have the strength of mind, heart and body to survive this. He is very strong, Sam. But, there is really very little that we can do to ease Frodo's pain or to increase his chances of survival. He needs all of us to carry on, and give him support." Sam nodded, reaching up to wipe away some of the tears that were streaming down his youthful face. "Come Sam, let Frodo continue to rest. He needs as much of it as he can get, and of it he gets so little." Reluctantly, Sam rose to his feet and headed off towards where breakfast could be smelled cooking.
Merry and Pippin had been out for hours exploring a small patch of woodland surrounding their camp. Their labors had not been fruitless, as when they returned they came bearing mushrooms and various herbs that were suitable for cooking. Samwise recognized this opportunity as a chance to take his mind off of his dear Masters' suffering, and perhaps prepare something that Mister Frodo could eat.
Sam set to work immediately, finely chopping the mushrooms and herbs, boiling the water, and seasoning the soup with a few pinches of salt from the small supply in his little box that he had brought from home. Soon, when all was prepared, Sam tasted the soup. It was quite good, given the circumstances and meager supplies he had to work with. Then Sam thought back on all previous attempts that had been made to get Frodo to eat. Most of them had ended in failure. But this would be different; Frodo loved Sam's mushroom soup. He always had. Sam remembered what Strider had said about making Frodo take some kind of liquids regularly. Frodo would become dehydrated if he did not drink.
With that last thought, Sam set off in the direction of Frodo's bedroll- glass of water, and cup of mushroom soup in hand.
TBC…
A/N: Thanks again for reading, and for giving great reviews! :) I'll try to get another chapter written and uploaded tonight, tomorrow afternoon at the latest. :)
A/N: Thank *all* of you so much for the wonderful reviews and encouragement! :) Lotesse, I think you'll be happy to discover that Sam plays a pretty major role in Chapter III. I could never leave dear Sam out of my fic. :) MelodySongSinger, I'll keep going with the fic as long as there's still interest! I like LilyBaggins' idea of going on through to Rivendell. I may very well do that. Please continue to R/R! I love hearing from you guys; it's great. :) Plus, I always need ideas… I want to add depth to the story. I'm working on it. Right now I have a few ideas for some possible 'mini-plots'- if that makes any sense. :)
Chapter III
"Oh Mister Frodo… I wish so much that you could give your pain to me. Let your Sam bear it for you. I would gladly have jumped between you and the blade of that evil Wraith, had I only been able to see you…" Salty tears trailed their way down Sam's grimy face as he kneeled over the pale, still form of his wounded Master. "Why…" Sam broke off, his voice quavering. "Curse that Ring! Mister Frodo, I know it spoke to you- commanded you to slip it onto your finger. And now… now you're so sick, and… I'm so scared that I'm going to lose you. Please don't die and leave me Master!" Sam put his head in his hands and murmured, "What would your Sam ever do without you?"
Sam felt a large gentle hand clasp his shoulder reassuringly. Aragorn looked down at the hobbit and his sick Master. Samwise was so loyal. Sam would hardly leave his Master's side, save for when exhaustion overcame him and he went to his bedroll and slept briefly. "How is he doing?" inquired Aragorn. Sam looked up at Aragorn. He could see the sorrow and concern written on the Man's face, though Sam knew he tried hard to mask it. "He hasn't moved, Mister Strider, he barely breathes- and he's so very cold to the touch." Sam thought for a moment, trying to decide how to properly phrase his question and harness his emotions. "Is Mister Frodo- what's going to become of him? Will he- he won't die… will he?" Aragorn looked down pityingly on Sam's anxious face. He wanted to tell the lad that everything would fine, and not to worry. Yet, Aragorn knew that he oughtn't lie to the hobbit about the fate of his Master. "There is a chance that Frodo may survive, Sam. However, there is also a chance that he will not." Aragorn paused and looked intently into Sam's tear-filled eyes. "Frodo may become a Wraith, an undead- yet not living- being… just like the vile creature that inflicted this deadly wound upon him." At this, Aragorn stopped and kneeled down, attempting to comfort a distraught Samwise. "Sam, many things will affect the outcome of this trial. Many things we cannot do for Frodo. He must have the strength of mind, heart and body to survive this. He is very strong, Sam. But, there is really very little that we can do to ease Frodo's pain or to increase his chances of survival. He needs all of us to carry on, and give him support." Sam nodded, reaching up to wipe away some of the tears that were streaming down his youthful face. "Come Sam, let Frodo continue to rest. He needs as much of it as he can get, and of it he gets so little." Reluctantly, Sam rose to his feet and headed off towards where breakfast could be smelled cooking.
Merry and Pippin had been out for hours exploring a small patch of woodland surrounding their camp. Their labors had not been fruitless, as when they returned they came bearing mushrooms and various herbs that were suitable for cooking. Samwise recognized this opportunity as a chance to take his mind off of his dear Masters' suffering, and perhaps prepare something that Mister Frodo could eat.
Sam set to work immediately, finely chopping the mushrooms and herbs, boiling the water, and seasoning the soup with a few pinches of salt from the small supply in his little box that he had brought from home. Soon, when all was prepared, Sam tasted the soup. It was quite good, given the circumstances and meager supplies he had to work with. Then Sam thought back on all previous attempts that had been made to get Frodo to eat. Most of them had ended in failure. But this would be different; Frodo loved Sam's mushroom soup. He always had. Sam remembered what Strider had said about making Frodo take some kind of liquids regularly. Frodo would become dehydrated if he did not drink.
With that last thought, Sam set off in the direction of Frodo's bedroll- glass of water, and cup of mushroom soup in hand.
TBC…
A/N: Thanks again for reading, and for giving great reviews! :) I'll try to get another chapter written and uploaded tonight, tomorrow afternoon at the latest. :)