A/N: First I just have to say thanks again for the great reviews, everyone!
:)
Lotesse & LilyBaggins, I'm terribly sorry that I confused you two! I didn't mean to. :)
Lotesse, Thanks for the compliment! I'm glad you like my fic. :) I hope I was more descriptive about the weather and scenery in this chapter than I have been in previous ones! :) And about the steel-toed boot: I used it as a way of describing the feeling of being kicked. Steel-toed boots are pretty hard; I wanted to convey the intensity of the 'kick'. Frodo never actually saw a steel-toed boot, although I know I did imply that a Wraith had indeed kicked him. The creatures I described here: "Frodo sighed, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes came into focus and he saw them all around him. Dark, winged shapes swirled around, stealing his breath, using the wind-gusts as invisible whips- tearing his clothes, bruising his fair skin, lashing out at him from every direction." He didn't see Wraiths; those creatures were the Wraiths' 'minions'. They were the 'Shadows' I've mentioned in other chapters; and the 'darkness' is the Wraith world- which is something that Frodo slips in and out of from time to time during my fic. Frodo wasn't *actually* being kicked or trampled by anyone; I related the pain he felt to the pain one would feel after being delivered "a swift kick in the side with a steel- toed boot". The feeling actually came from the 'changes' his body goes through during the process of becoming a Wraith. It comes up again in this chapter too, just under different circumstances. :)
LilyBaggins, I do intend to continue the fic through his treatment in Rivendell. :)
Estel, you are exactly right! I can't believe no one had pointed it out to me before. :) I hadn't intended on making it a movieverse fic. I can't believe I didn't realize my mistake when I was writing. Thanks for pointing it out though; I might not ever have noticed it! :) And, I'm so glad you like my fic. :)
Elwen, I agree that 'languid' doesn't look right. I looked up the definition, and thought about it for a while. I almost didn't use the word, but I used it for lack of a better one- I suppose. :)
Mindel, I'm so glad you like it! :) I know what you mean about being really busy. That's why my updates have been so slow- I've been so busy! :) lol.
Shirebound, thankyou for the compliment! I'll get Frodo to Rivendell as soon as I can. ;)
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Chapter IX
Frodo stumbled along the rocky terrain tiredly, one foot in front of the other. He was obliged to walk along with the rest of the company because there was no path to speak of- certainly not one fit for Bill to carry a rider on. Frodo was almost relieved that he didn't have to ride Bill, although walking cost him a lot of energy and caused him to lag behind everyone else, he preferred it to Bill's jostling gait. Of course, Frodo knew that it wasn't Bill's fault. The pony just wasn't accustomed to carrying a rider across such rocky uneven ground, and besides that, the slightly bumpy ride might not have been so unpleasant had the circumstances been different for Frodo.
He was relieved that the land was at least sloping *downwards*- and gently at that! Frodo didn't think he would have been able to climb down steep rocky ledges, or scramble across boulder-strewn gullies for very long. Strider had told the hobbits earlier that they were back on course, and would be traveling on the Road again before long.
The continuation of agreeable weather made the journey easier on all of them. No cloud could be seen in the pale blue sky, and a gentle, warm breeze was blowing up from the South. The sun shone down bright and encouragingly onto the weary company. It lifted their spirits, and gave them hope. Warm rays from the sun soothed their insides, drying out all of the dampness and stiffness from the days that had been spent in the unpleasant, rainy country. Driving away their fears, and helping them to cast aside their doubts. Even Frodo had woken that morning feeling better than he had the previous evening. His sides still ached from the mysterious ordeal that he had been through the night before, but he hadn't spoken of it to anyone.
The ring-bearer fell a bit further behind the others; he wanted to see what it was that had caused him so much pain earlier. Frodo glanced up; making sure no one was watching him. They were all far enough ahead now to where they wouldn't be able to see what he was doing. Frodo used his right arm to carefully move his cloak aside, and lifted his shirt up just a tiny bit, exposing a little skin. He stopped walking, and looked closely at his front, there were no bruises, no marks of any kind that he could see. He used the palm of his hand to apply a small amount of pressure to the affected area. He winced in pain as the agonizing feeling from earlier returned- an unseen force, torturing him mercilessly, kicking and tearing at his insides, waging a war within his body. Frodo stood unmoving for a moment, hunched over as his features twisted in agony. He didn't want to chance anyone else seeing his pain when it could be avoided. The sick hobbit tried to concentrate on breathing: slowly and carefully, in and out, waiting for the spell to pass.
At last, when Frodo felt able, he stood up and looked forward, trying to make his eyes focus properly. He could see that everyone else had stopped a ways ahead. It looked as though they were preparing the mid-day meal. He continued on his way at his own pace, going to meet them.
Frodo gasped in astonishment as he drew closer to where the others stood. "Trolls!" he nearly yelled. He hadn't seen them from far off but, sure as the sun rises, there they stood now! "I know where we are now…" thought Frodo, judging by the map in his head "This must be where Bilbo, the dwarves and Gandalf met the three trolls, so many long years ago! We are in about the right place I suppose." The trolls were nestled in a grove of tall trees, their leaves turning gold and orange from the nippy mid-October mornings. Frodo suspected that the trolls had gone largely unnoticed throughout the years, forgotten by the world, frozen in place for all the ages to come, until they were worn down into small rocks and grains of sand. Even in their stone form, the trolls still appeared menacing to the small hobbit, who stood there before them, but a fraction of their height.
"Hello, Mister Frodo!" Sam chirped cheerily, chewing on a piece of dried tomato as he leaned against one of the large stone calves of a troll. Frodo smiled wanly at his loyal servant, not wanting to disappoint him, "Hello Sam, can you tell where we are? These are the very same three trolls that nearly cooked Bilbo and the dwarves!" Frodo finished; his voice quiet, but nonetheless filled excitement and awe.
"Well I reckon I do, Mister Frodo! I only heard the story a hundred or more times..." Sam smiled warmly. "Dear old Bilbo really did have the best stories of anyone in the whole Shire."
"You're right Sam. Bilbo certainly did have the best tales to tell. Oh, the things he saw and did! What adventures he had…" Frodo reminisced. He missed his dear Uncle Bilbo now more than ever. He wished Bilbo had been able to be there and see these things with him, and in happier times.
"Mister Frodo, what do you feel up to eating?" Sam interrupted Frodo's thoughts, "Strider's caught us a right decent coney- I cooked it up real nice, and I've still got some dried tomatoes. Master Pippin's even got a bit of apple butter to go with it. You wait here just a moment, and I'll go fix you up a nice plate!" Sam finished excitedly, "Now don't you go anywhere Mister Frodo, you're getting too thin around the middle to suite me. Not proper at all for a hobbit!" and he was off before Frodo could protest. Frodo stood there for a moment; the thought of food didn't please him too much. The way his insides felt, he didn't want to think about what might happen if he tried to put something in his stomach.
Sam returned shortly with a plate piled high with roasted coney, dark red dried tomatoes, delicious smelling apple butter, and a steaming cup of herb tea. "Now you eat this all up, Mister Frodo. Strider said that this tea ought to help with the pain in your poor shoulder- not to mention warm your insides a bit!"
"No thank you Sam, I'm really not hungry." Frodo stated simply. "But Mister Frodo, you must eat!" Tears began to build in Sam's eyes. "Sam, thank you kindly for this lovely food. I'm afraid I just can't bear the thought of having to eat."
"Well Mister Frodo, are you feeling all right? At least, as all right as can be expected, if you get my meaning. Is there anything I can get for you?" Sam questioned appealingly.
Frodo looked into Sam's face apologetically, "No Sam. I am afraid there is not, I must get to Rivendell. Then, perhaps, I will be all right..."
"Well alright then, Mister Frodo, but you *must* at least drink all of your tea. Strider gathered all of the herbs himself- said it was important that you took all of it." The younger hobbit persisted.
Frodo sighed, "I promise I'll drink it, Sam, don't fret. It wouldn't do to be dishonest with you!" The ring-bearer chuckled, smiling at his anxious friend. Frodo winced as he felt twinges of pain spreading across his sides and middle, brought on by his chuckling, an icy knife twisted in his left shoulder. He started to lift his shirt again, to see what was the matter, but he remembered that Sam was still watching him.
"Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, not trying to hide his concern. He had seen the pained expression that had crossed his Masters face a moment before.
"I-" Frodo stopped, trying to catch his breath, as he felt another sharp stab of pain. He tried to mask it quickly, before Sam noticed, "I'll be fine Sam, I promise. You go on and eat. I'm going to sit down here and drink my tea, then I'll be on over to talk with everyone else." Frodo finished, with what he hoped was a smile.
Sam smiled shakily, and turned on his heel, heading back to where everyone else was eating lunch. Frodo sighed with relief. He was very thankful that Sam was not onto him. They should reach Rivendell in two days or less. "I can make it." Frodo thought, "It's not that much further. I've endured this long, there's no need to worry them all more when we're so close to the end of our journey."
Frodo raised the cup to his lips, blowing on the tea a little before he attempted to take a sip. He drank a mouthful, surprised at its unusually pleasant taste. The hobbit then proceeded to sit himself upon a nearby rock with a flat surface, and continue drinking his tea. Frodo winced as he bent over and the pain in his sides grew, and the bitter knife in his shoulder dug a little deeper.
The just outside dell where the stone trolls stood; there was a view of the Eastern horizon. Frodo sat on the rock, looking out across the sky, his eyes resting on the peaks of the Misty Mountains off in the distance. "I wish…" Frodo began, "No... wishing will do me no good now." He sighed, and took another swallow of the tea.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
"Mister Strider, I *still* don't quite understand what's wrong. The wound was small; it is healed now. Why is my master so ill?" Sam carried on.
"Samwise, I've explained this to you before. I understand that you are concerned for Frodo's well being, as are we all, but there isn't anything more that you or I- or Merry or Pippin- can do for him at this time. It is true that his wound has healed, but there is magic inside of his body, Sam. Dark, evil magic. The poison of the enemy."
"Why is he always in such pain though Strider? What does it-" Sam continued tirelessly.
Aragorn sighed audibly; he was well aware of the ring-bearers state- and equally aware that there was nothing he could do to help the poor hobbit. "It is the dark magic working, Sam, his shoulder and hand are being affected by the Morgul Blades' poison." Aragorn finished.
"No, Mister Strider, not that. I saw him just a short while ago- more ails him than he lets on. He always has been stubborn; don't know what's good for 'im- as I've said many a time! My gaffer always said, 'It's always the- "
"What are you speaking of Sam?" Aragorn interrupted, cocking an ear. "Of course you are aware that the Shadows have been working their hardest to overcome your Master, torturing him in waking and in sleep, hurling him into their world unexpectedly and with force. If there is something else that you are aware of, Sam, you must tell me. Whatever it is, knowing about it may be vital to your Master's survival."
Sam hesitated a moment, it was obvious to him that Frodo had tried to conceal whatever it was that was bothering him. He knew that his Master was a private hobbit, he did not wish for pity, or to disrupt the lives of others on account of his own suffering. "Well, Mister Strider, I oughtn't tell, but I know the gravity of the situation. I saw him trying to hide it, but he's never been able to hide anything from his dear Sam. It's his sides, or stomach- his mid-section in general. He was clearly favoring it today when I took him his meal a short while ago, he wouldn't eat. Said something about not being able to stand the thought of eating- but I told him he had better drink the tea, seeing as how you gathered all those herbs for it, and it would help his shoulder. My master never has been much on food, though. But something isn't quite right, if you ask me."
Aragorn had been listening intently to Sam's ramblings, picking out the useful bits of information. The symptoms Sam was describing were not distinctive characteristics of any particular illness. Frodo hadn't had any appetite to speak of since Weathertop. But, if he was having severe pain in his sides or stomach, then something was definitely wrong. Frodo hadn't taken a fall that Aragorn knew of, so it couldn't be an internal injury… It was definitely something to do with the forces that were working against the ring-bearer. They had a day and a half, a little less perhaps- if the nice weather held out, before they reached Rivendell. They were too close now to lose Frodo to the Wraith world. Too close to lose all that they were working so hard to save.
Aragorn thought for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "Sam, go fetch your master for me, if you will. I desire to see him for myself."
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Frodo lay on the soft damp earth of the woodland floor. Aragorn knelt over him, poking and prodding various parts of his body. Frodo longed to slip the Ring onto his finger, and be rid of this pain and uncertainty. Aragorn had questioned the hobbit for a while, trying to learn as much as he could about Frodo's most recent experience with these Shadows. Aragorn hadn't ever dealt with such beings, and so he knew not how to handle them- or how to slow their progress or stop them.
"Now, Frodo, I'm going to lightly touch areas of your stomach- tell me if anything hurts."
Frodo's eyes widened a little at the thought of being touched there, but he nodded and replied, "Alright Strider."
The ring-bearer never took his eyes off of Aragorn's hands; following them closely everywhere they went. When the hands landed on Frodo's abdomen, he whimpered in pain and tried to escape, as a small amount of pressure was applied. Frodo began to break out in a sweat, as the hands moved up to his sides, prodding him as they went. Even the lightest touch, sent him reeling in pain.
"Easy now, Frodo. It must be done, surely you understand?"
Frodo nodded.
At last, Aragorn was satisfied with his inspection, and rose to his feet. "Sam," the Ranger spoke in hushed tones, "The land from here to the Road continues on downwards in a gentle slope. I do not think that your Master will feel up to walking. The Shadows sense that we are drawing near Rivendell- and they don't intend on letting Frodo escape easily, if at all. He seems to be growing worse again. The pain that is in his sides now will likely continue to spread, affecting other parts of his body. The Shadows feel that if they cause him enough hurt now, he will be easier to conquer at the end- because he will no longer desire to live in this world." Aragorn finished gravely.
Sam nodded vigorously, "Yes Mister Strider, Bill will be fine carrying my Master from here on to Rivendell."
Aragorn patted the hobbit on the shoulder, "Come now, we must make haste. I want to continue on into the night as long as we can. I fear your Master's time is growing quite short."
With that, Sam left Aragorn, and went to help Frodo onto Bill's back.
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A/N: Thanks for reading. :) I should have the next chapter up in a few days!
Lotesse & LilyBaggins, I'm terribly sorry that I confused you two! I didn't mean to. :)
Lotesse, Thanks for the compliment! I'm glad you like my fic. :) I hope I was more descriptive about the weather and scenery in this chapter than I have been in previous ones! :) And about the steel-toed boot: I used it as a way of describing the feeling of being kicked. Steel-toed boots are pretty hard; I wanted to convey the intensity of the 'kick'. Frodo never actually saw a steel-toed boot, although I know I did imply that a Wraith had indeed kicked him. The creatures I described here: "Frodo sighed, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes came into focus and he saw them all around him. Dark, winged shapes swirled around, stealing his breath, using the wind-gusts as invisible whips- tearing his clothes, bruising his fair skin, lashing out at him from every direction." He didn't see Wraiths; those creatures were the Wraiths' 'minions'. They were the 'Shadows' I've mentioned in other chapters; and the 'darkness' is the Wraith world- which is something that Frodo slips in and out of from time to time during my fic. Frodo wasn't *actually* being kicked or trampled by anyone; I related the pain he felt to the pain one would feel after being delivered "a swift kick in the side with a steel- toed boot". The feeling actually came from the 'changes' his body goes through during the process of becoming a Wraith. It comes up again in this chapter too, just under different circumstances. :)
LilyBaggins, I do intend to continue the fic through his treatment in Rivendell. :)
Estel, you are exactly right! I can't believe no one had pointed it out to me before. :) I hadn't intended on making it a movieverse fic. I can't believe I didn't realize my mistake when I was writing. Thanks for pointing it out though; I might not ever have noticed it! :) And, I'm so glad you like my fic. :)
Elwen, I agree that 'languid' doesn't look right. I looked up the definition, and thought about it for a while. I almost didn't use the word, but I used it for lack of a better one- I suppose. :)
Mindel, I'm so glad you like it! :) I know what you mean about being really busy. That's why my updates have been so slow- I've been so busy! :) lol.
Shirebound, thankyou for the compliment! I'll get Frodo to Rivendell as soon as I can. ;)
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Chapter IX
Frodo stumbled along the rocky terrain tiredly, one foot in front of the other. He was obliged to walk along with the rest of the company because there was no path to speak of- certainly not one fit for Bill to carry a rider on. Frodo was almost relieved that he didn't have to ride Bill, although walking cost him a lot of energy and caused him to lag behind everyone else, he preferred it to Bill's jostling gait. Of course, Frodo knew that it wasn't Bill's fault. The pony just wasn't accustomed to carrying a rider across such rocky uneven ground, and besides that, the slightly bumpy ride might not have been so unpleasant had the circumstances been different for Frodo.
He was relieved that the land was at least sloping *downwards*- and gently at that! Frodo didn't think he would have been able to climb down steep rocky ledges, or scramble across boulder-strewn gullies for very long. Strider had told the hobbits earlier that they were back on course, and would be traveling on the Road again before long.
The continuation of agreeable weather made the journey easier on all of them. No cloud could be seen in the pale blue sky, and a gentle, warm breeze was blowing up from the South. The sun shone down bright and encouragingly onto the weary company. It lifted their spirits, and gave them hope. Warm rays from the sun soothed their insides, drying out all of the dampness and stiffness from the days that had been spent in the unpleasant, rainy country. Driving away their fears, and helping them to cast aside their doubts. Even Frodo had woken that morning feeling better than he had the previous evening. His sides still ached from the mysterious ordeal that he had been through the night before, but he hadn't spoken of it to anyone.
The ring-bearer fell a bit further behind the others; he wanted to see what it was that had caused him so much pain earlier. Frodo glanced up; making sure no one was watching him. They were all far enough ahead now to where they wouldn't be able to see what he was doing. Frodo used his right arm to carefully move his cloak aside, and lifted his shirt up just a tiny bit, exposing a little skin. He stopped walking, and looked closely at his front, there were no bruises, no marks of any kind that he could see. He used the palm of his hand to apply a small amount of pressure to the affected area. He winced in pain as the agonizing feeling from earlier returned- an unseen force, torturing him mercilessly, kicking and tearing at his insides, waging a war within his body. Frodo stood unmoving for a moment, hunched over as his features twisted in agony. He didn't want to chance anyone else seeing his pain when it could be avoided. The sick hobbit tried to concentrate on breathing: slowly and carefully, in and out, waiting for the spell to pass.
At last, when Frodo felt able, he stood up and looked forward, trying to make his eyes focus properly. He could see that everyone else had stopped a ways ahead. It looked as though they were preparing the mid-day meal. He continued on his way at his own pace, going to meet them.
Frodo gasped in astonishment as he drew closer to where the others stood. "Trolls!" he nearly yelled. He hadn't seen them from far off but, sure as the sun rises, there they stood now! "I know where we are now…" thought Frodo, judging by the map in his head "This must be where Bilbo, the dwarves and Gandalf met the three trolls, so many long years ago! We are in about the right place I suppose." The trolls were nestled in a grove of tall trees, their leaves turning gold and orange from the nippy mid-October mornings. Frodo suspected that the trolls had gone largely unnoticed throughout the years, forgotten by the world, frozen in place for all the ages to come, until they were worn down into small rocks and grains of sand. Even in their stone form, the trolls still appeared menacing to the small hobbit, who stood there before them, but a fraction of their height.
"Hello, Mister Frodo!" Sam chirped cheerily, chewing on a piece of dried tomato as he leaned against one of the large stone calves of a troll. Frodo smiled wanly at his loyal servant, not wanting to disappoint him, "Hello Sam, can you tell where we are? These are the very same three trolls that nearly cooked Bilbo and the dwarves!" Frodo finished; his voice quiet, but nonetheless filled excitement and awe.
"Well I reckon I do, Mister Frodo! I only heard the story a hundred or more times..." Sam smiled warmly. "Dear old Bilbo really did have the best stories of anyone in the whole Shire."
"You're right Sam. Bilbo certainly did have the best tales to tell. Oh, the things he saw and did! What adventures he had…" Frodo reminisced. He missed his dear Uncle Bilbo now more than ever. He wished Bilbo had been able to be there and see these things with him, and in happier times.
"Mister Frodo, what do you feel up to eating?" Sam interrupted Frodo's thoughts, "Strider's caught us a right decent coney- I cooked it up real nice, and I've still got some dried tomatoes. Master Pippin's even got a bit of apple butter to go with it. You wait here just a moment, and I'll go fix you up a nice plate!" Sam finished excitedly, "Now don't you go anywhere Mister Frodo, you're getting too thin around the middle to suite me. Not proper at all for a hobbit!" and he was off before Frodo could protest. Frodo stood there for a moment; the thought of food didn't please him too much. The way his insides felt, he didn't want to think about what might happen if he tried to put something in his stomach.
Sam returned shortly with a plate piled high with roasted coney, dark red dried tomatoes, delicious smelling apple butter, and a steaming cup of herb tea. "Now you eat this all up, Mister Frodo. Strider said that this tea ought to help with the pain in your poor shoulder- not to mention warm your insides a bit!"
"No thank you Sam, I'm really not hungry." Frodo stated simply. "But Mister Frodo, you must eat!" Tears began to build in Sam's eyes. "Sam, thank you kindly for this lovely food. I'm afraid I just can't bear the thought of having to eat."
"Well Mister Frodo, are you feeling all right? At least, as all right as can be expected, if you get my meaning. Is there anything I can get for you?" Sam questioned appealingly.
Frodo looked into Sam's face apologetically, "No Sam. I am afraid there is not, I must get to Rivendell. Then, perhaps, I will be all right..."
"Well alright then, Mister Frodo, but you *must* at least drink all of your tea. Strider gathered all of the herbs himself- said it was important that you took all of it." The younger hobbit persisted.
Frodo sighed, "I promise I'll drink it, Sam, don't fret. It wouldn't do to be dishonest with you!" The ring-bearer chuckled, smiling at his anxious friend. Frodo winced as he felt twinges of pain spreading across his sides and middle, brought on by his chuckling, an icy knife twisted in his left shoulder. He started to lift his shirt again, to see what was the matter, but he remembered that Sam was still watching him.
"Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, not trying to hide his concern. He had seen the pained expression that had crossed his Masters face a moment before.
"I-" Frodo stopped, trying to catch his breath, as he felt another sharp stab of pain. He tried to mask it quickly, before Sam noticed, "I'll be fine Sam, I promise. You go on and eat. I'm going to sit down here and drink my tea, then I'll be on over to talk with everyone else." Frodo finished, with what he hoped was a smile.
Sam smiled shakily, and turned on his heel, heading back to where everyone else was eating lunch. Frodo sighed with relief. He was very thankful that Sam was not onto him. They should reach Rivendell in two days or less. "I can make it." Frodo thought, "It's not that much further. I've endured this long, there's no need to worry them all more when we're so close to the end of our journey."
Frodo raised the cup to his lips, blowing on the tea a little before he attempted to take a sip. He drank a mouthful, surprised at its unusually pleasant taste. The hobbit then proceeded to sit himself upon a nearby rock with a flat surface, and continue drinking his tea. Frodo winced as he bent over and the pain in his sides grew, and the bitter knife in his shoulder dug a little deeper.
The just outside dell where the stone trolls stood; there was a view of the Eastern horizon. Frodo sat on the rock, looking out across the sky, his eyes resting on the peaks of the Misty Mountains off in the distance. "I wish…" Frodo began, "No... wishing will do me no good now." He sighed, and took another swallow of the tea.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
"Mister Strider, I *still* don't quite understand what's wrong. The wound was small; it is healed now. Why is my master so ill?" Sam carried on.
"Samwise, I've explained this to you before. I understand that you are concerned for Frodo's well being, as are we all, but there isn't anything more that you or I- or Merry or Pippin- can do for him at this time. It is true that his wound has healed, but there is magic inside of his body, Sam. Dark, evil magic. The poison of the enemy."
"Why is he always in such pain though Strider? What does it-" Sam continued tirelessly.
Aragorn sighed audibly; he was well aware of the ring-bearers state- and equally aware that there was nothing he could do to help the poor hobbit. "It is the dark magic working, Sam, his shoulder and hand are being affected by the Morgul Blades' poison." Aragorn finished.
"No, Mister Strider, not that. I saw him just a short while ago- more ails him than he lets on. He always has been stubborn; don't know what's good for 'im- as I've said many a time! My gaffer always said, 'It's always the- "
"What are you speaking of Sam?" Aragorn interrupted, cocking an ear. "Of course you are aware that the Shadows have been working their hardest to overcome your Master, torturing him in waking and in sleep, hurling him into their world unexpectedly and with force. If there is something else that you are aware of, Sam, you must tell me. Whatever it is, knowing about it may be vital to your Master's survival."
Sam hesitated a moment, it was obvious to him that Frodo had tried to conceal whatever it was that was bothering him. He knew that his Master was a private hobbit, he did not wish for pity, or to disrupt the lives of others on account of his own suffering. "Well, Mister Strider, I oughtn't tell, but I know the gravity of the situation. I saw him trying to hide it, but he's never been able to hide anything from his dear Sam. It's his sides, or stomach- his mid-section in general. He was clearly favoring it today when I took him his meal a short while ago, he wouldn't eat. Said something about not being able to stand the thought of eating- but I told him he had better drink the tea, seeing as how you gathered all those herbs for it, and it would help his shoulder. My master never has been much on food, though. But something isn't quite right, if you ask me."
Aragorn had been listening intently to Sam's ramblings, picking out the useful bits of information. The symptoms Sam was describing were not distinctive characteristics of any particular illness. Frodo hadn't had any appetite to speak of since Weathertop. But, if he was having severe pain in his sides or stomach, then something was definitely wrong. Frodo hadn't taken a fall that Aragorn knew of, so it couldn't be an internal injury… It was definitely something to do with the forces that were working against the ring-bearer. They had a day and a half, a little less perhaps- if the nice weather held out, before they reached Rivendell. They were too close now to lose Frodo to the Wraith world. Too close to lose all that they were working so hard to save.
Aragorn thought for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "Sam, go fetch your master for me, if you will. I desire to see him for myself."
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Frodo lay on the soft damp earth of the woodland floor. Aragorn knelt over him, poking and prodding various parts of his body. Frodo longed to slip the Ring onto his finger, and be rid of this pain and uncertainty. Aragorn had questioned the hobbit for a while, trying to learn as much as he could about Frodo's most recent experience with these Shadows. Aragorn hadn't ever dealt with such beings, and so he knew not how to handle them- or how to slow their progress or stop them.
"Now, Frodo, I'm going to lightly touch areas of your stomach- tell me if anything hurts."
Frodo's eyes widened a little at the thought of being touched there, but he nodded and replied, "Alright Strider."
The ring-bearer never took his eyes off of Aragorn's hands; following them closely everywhere they went. When the hands landed on Frodo's abdomen, he whimpered in pain and tried to escape, as a small amount of pressure was applied. Frodo began to break out in a sweat, as the hands moved up to his sides, prodding him as they went. Even the lightest touch, sent him reeling in pain.
"Easy now, Frodo. It must be done, surely you understand?"
Frodo nodded.
At last, Aragorn was satisfied with his inspection, and rose to his feet. "Sam," the Ranger spoke in hushed tones, "The land from here to the Road continues on downwards in a gentle slope. I do not think that your Master will feel up to walking. The Shadows sense that we are drawing near Rivendell- and they don't intend on letting Frodo escape easily, if at all. He seems to be growing worse again. The pain that is in his sides now will likely continue to spread, affecting other parts of his body. The Shadows feel that if they cause him enough hurt now, he will be easier to conquer at the end- because he will no longer desire to live in this world." Aragorn finished gravely.
Sam nodded vigorously, "Yes Mister Strider, Bill will be fine carrying my Master from here on to Rivendell."
Aragorn patted the hobbit on the shoulder, "Come now, we must make haste. I want to continue on into the night as long as we can. I fear your Master's time is growing quite short."
With that, Sam left Aragorn, and went to help Frodo onto Bill's back.
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A/N: Thanks for reading. :) I should have the next chapter up in a few days!