Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. :)
A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in… well, too long! :) There will be *one* more chapter before Rivendell… I intended on this being the last one before it, but it didn't quite work out that way. I'll probably post two chapters next time, or work the first part of Rivendell into the last day of the journey to Rivendell.
And, the *'s are still around conversations that are spoken in elvish.
Thanks for the review LilyBaggins! :) Sorry you had to wait so long for this chapter. :(
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Chapter XI
Since Frodo was riding Asfaloth, Bill was able to bear the greater part of the company's baggage. Merry, Pippin and Sam were grateful to be rid of the extra weight, if only for a little while. The liquid they drank from Glorfindel's flask that morning had sustained them well all day; it was a good thing, as they had not been given an opportunity to rest or eat any meals yet, save for two short breaks.
"No Merry, I am quite sure that it was *you* who let Milo Banks in on our plot!" Pippin retorted… and then paused before continuing, "It matters not who did it… 'Twas *his* fault in the end that we all got caught." He finished, a tone of regret in his voice.
Merry thought for a moment before answering, "Milo is your uncles, best friends, son Pippin! And, might I add, that you were sweet on his sister for nigh on three years…?" Merry finished, proud that he was able to make Pippin squirm a bit.
Pippin blushed at this, "So what if I was? She's a pretty lass, you can't deny that!" he rambled, trying to change the subject, "And besides, that's no good reason to be spreading around our affairs to a Banks, you know they can't keep nothing to themselves!" Pippin huffed, looking down, pulling apart a leaf that he had picked up off of the ground as they were walking along the Road.
"Well," Merry pondered, "I suppose we oughtn't have been sneakin' ale in the first place… even if it was from the Green Dragon." He sighed.
Merry strode up to Pippin's side, putting an arm around his young friends shoulders, "'Tis all far in the past anyhow, Pippin." Merry smiled. "Although, I have to say that it was right amusing watching little Milo drink that whole pint, for his punishment!" Then Merry and Pippin burst into laughter.
"Shh!", came an aggravated hiss from behind them. "How many times does Mister Strider have to tell the both of you to keep it down?" Sam chided. "We can't be drawing any unnecessary attention to ourselves, if you get my meaning."
At that, Merry and Pippin both quieted down and continued walking. Sam was right; they mustn't alert anyone, or anything, to their presence if it could be helped. Pippin shuddered at the thought of attracting the Black Riders, and even more so at the thought of them taking Frodo.
Meanwhile, Frodo was pleased to discover that Asfaloth's gait was much smoother than Bill's ever had been. The elven horse was sure of foot, and careful not to jostle the sick hobbit. It was almost as if Asfaloth was aware of Frodo's condition, and tried to do everything he could to avoid causing the poor hobbit any unnecessary discomfort. He was lonely though, high up in the air. It was so against what was in a hobbit's nature, Frodo thought.
Frodo gave a small sigh; he wished that Sam could have been up there on the horse with him, to keep him company and reassure him. His world was so very dark and cold, he would have given anything to have someone else there to help warm him. Just knowing that he wasn't alone would have been enough.
Waking up was becoming harder and harder for Frodo. He caught small snatches of sleep often, and he was becoming more and more regretful each time someone roused him from it, which seemed to be quite often, he thought. He sat there in the saddle with his eyes closed, wrapped in blankets, listening to the steady beating of Asfaloth's hooves, and the weak beating of his own heart, as it echoed in his ears. The bright mid- afternoon sunlight shined through his eyelids, adding a red tint to his dark world.
"Frodo…" he heard a familiar voice calling him from far off, "Frodo… wake up, little one, you mustn't fall too deeply into sleep." Aragorn finished, reaching up with one hand to stroke the hobbit's pale cheek.
Frodo sighed wearily, "I know, Aragorn, that much you have told me. I am so tired though… and it's so cold. Have you any more blankets?" he finished unsteadily, his eyes still closed, as another wave of chills came over him.
"I'm afraid not, Frodo. Every stitch of spare cloth has been given to you already." The Ranger finished. The small creature sitting upon the white stallion looked so lifeless, Aragorn thought. He blinked several times, fighting back bitter tears of regret. He felt as though he had let Frodo down, he joined the hobbits at Bree so that he might protect them… and now, he may wind up losing one of them because of his negligence. "But, surely I have gotten them farther than they would have gotten alone?" He thought to himself. Deep down, he knew he was right.
Aragorn had noticed Frodo's growing reluctance to wake up long before the others had. As much as the ring-bearer needed rest, Aragorn just couldn't allow him to slip into a darkness that none of them could rescue him from. Not when they were this close to saving him. He was relieved that Glorfindel was now traveling with them and he no longer had to confide in Sam. He hated to burden the young hobbit with excess worry, when he was already beside himself with it.
Aragorn removed his hand from Frodo's cheek, and fell in step with the elf. *Glorfindel, have you noticed-*, Aragorn began. Glorfindel finished Aragorn's thought before he could do so himself, *Yes, Aragorn, and sadly we must not allow him to sleep too deeply. The malady is heavily upon him now. If he loses touch with this world, even Elrond's healing skills may not be able to call him back. *
The company walked on in silence for a while longer. It appeared to everyone that Frodo was growing more distant with every step they took. He had spoken little, and was unresponsive. He lay there; half slumped over onto Asfaloth's neck, in his own painful, dark world, almost completely unaware of anything going on around him.
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When Frodo next came to himself; the smell of Athelas was lingering heavily in the air. He turned his head to the left and saw Aragorn kneeling beside him, bathing his freezing body with a warm cloth. It was dark. He could only just make out Aragorn's visage; the haze that dimmed his vision had become darker and thicker as night approached.
"Aragorn?" Frodo's hoarse voice was barely a murmur.
"I'm here Frodo." Aragorn soothed, "Don't be alarmed; we've stopped for the night. You had a dreadful spell not too long ago; Glorfindel and I decided that it was best that we stop; you weren't able to continue." He finished, pulling the blankets closer around Frodo's shivering form.
"Wh- what… happened?" Frodo inquired shakily, fear rising in the back of his mind once more. The last thing he wanted to do was be more trouble than he knew he already was.
"Here Frodo, drink this." Aragorn directed, as he produced a hot cup of tea. The Ranger swallowed hard, remembering the horrific display from a few hours prior. He knew he couldn't tell the frightened ring-bearer of such things; it wouldn't help the situation. "Nay Frodo, it's over now, there's no need in mentioning such things…although I am surprised that you do not remember. You appeared to be aware of yourself throughout most of the ordeal." Aragorn smiled grimly, "Just…"
That was the last Frodo heard, as he slipped into a fitful sleep. *Let him rest a short while, Aragorn. He will come to no harm, if he only rests briefly. *
Glorfindel had quietly approached Frodo from the other side, placing two gentle hands on the ring-bearer's chest and speaking soft phrases in elvish; willing the weary hobbit to forget his cares and pains.
*Thank you, Glorfindel. I agree that he does need some relief for a brief period of time. *
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Two hours earlier, Aragorn's train of thought was interrupted by Frodo's cries. The Ranger looked up to find the wretched looking hobbit breathing heavily, yet seeming to gather no air in his lungs. He was hunched over onto Asfaloth's neck, his good hand cradling his head.
"Bilbo… it hurts. Make it stop, please… Bilbo." Frodo sobbed. His eyes were squeezed shut; his small body shuddered from cold.
Aragorn fell back, walking alongside Asfaloth. He reached his hand up to rub Frodo's back. "Easy now, Frodo, where does it hurt?" he asked gently.
The only answer Aragorn got, was Frodo's continued sobbing. The Ranger carefully slid one arm under the hobbits front, sitting him upright in the saddle. Then, he lifted him off of the horses back, and into his own arms. "Shh… Frodo, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong."
"You can't help anyway, Strider." Frodo spoke wearily, meeting Aragorn's gaze. The sadness and suffering contained in those once jubilant, innocent eyes, stabbed at Aragorn's heart more than ever.
"Well Frodo, I can do my best to try." The Ranger smiled slightly, trying not to allow Frodo to lose all hope.
Without warning, Frodo cried out in anguish, and stiffened in Aragorn's arms, his breathing erratic.
Frodo whimpered in pain as he felt the Shadow's filling his body with their evil presence once again.
Aragorn held the hobbit close to him, as Frodo kicked and screamed, trying to escape the Ranger's grasp. Trying to join the dark forces that were working their evil magic on his small form. It was strange, Aragorn thought, the hobbit's body trying its hardest to depart the soul that still clung to it by a thread. It fought to cast away that soul, into oblivion, and fill the shell left behind with more of a void than if the body were to remain empty.
Frodo shuddered as he sucked in a sharp breath; the Shadows' grasp on him was at last relinquished. He clung to Aragorn's neck, sobbing into the Rangers shoulder. Aragorn tried his best to comfort Frodo. Rubbing his back and speaking softly to him.
"Aragorn…" Frodo spoke shakily, "I'm so afraid." He paused, catching his breath, "I can't see… I can't see any of you anymore… It's so cold. My head hurts, Aragorn. Make them leave me alone, make it stop." Frodo cried, as he clutched a small arm tightly around Aragorn's neck.
Glorfindel stood by, ready to be of assistance, should anything else happen. The other three hobbits watched with shocked expressions on their faces. Sam was distraught to see his Master in such pain. Salty tears had begun to gather in the corners of his eyes. What hurt the worst was knowing that he could do nothing to help.
*Aragorn, I think it's time we sought shelter for the night. The halfling can continue no further tonight, I believe*, Glorfindel proposed, *the ring- bearer's kinsman are weary, as are you. * The elf finished, hoping the Ranger would heed his advice.
Aragorn looked at his friend, Glorfindel was right. They couldn't go any further that night without rest. Frodo needed to be warmer, and he must drink something. The fit had taken a lot out of him.
*Yes, Glorfindel, gather the other three, I shall look for a place where we may rest safely off of the road. * Aragorn instructed.
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A/N: Thanks for reading, and please review! :) As always, I am in constant need of constructive criticism. :)
A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in… well, too long! :) There will be *one* more chapter before Rivendell… I intended on this being the last one before it, but it didn't quite work out that way. I'll probably post two chapters next time, or work the first part of Rivendell into the last day of the journey to Rivendell.
And, the *'s are still around conversations that are spoken in elvish.
Thanks for the review LilyBaggins! :) Sorry you had to wait so long for this chapter. :(
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Chapter XI
Since Frodo was riding Asfaloth, Bill was able to bear the greater part of the company's baggage. Merry, Pippin and Sam were grateful to be rid of the extra weight, if only for a little while. The liquid they drank from Glorfindel's flask that morning had sustained them well all day; it was a good thing, as they had not been given an opportunity to rest or eat any meals yet, save for two short breaks.
"No Merry, I am quite sure that it was *you* who let Milo Banks in on our plot!" Pippin retorted… and then paused before continuing, "It matters not who did it… 'Twas *his* fault in the end that we all got caught." He finished, a tone of regret in his voice.
Merry thought for a moment before answering, "Milo is your uncles, best friends, son Pippin! And, might I add, that you were sweet on his sister for nigh on three years…?" Merry finished, proud that he was able to make Pippin squirm a bit.
Pippin blushed at this, "So what if I was? She's a pretty lass, you can't deny that!" he rambled, trying to change the subject, "And besides, that's no good reason to be spreading around our affairs to a Banks, you know they can't keep nothing to themselves!" Pippin huffed, looking down, pulling apart a leaf that he had picked up off of the ground as they were walking along the Road.
"Well," Merry pondered, "I suppose we oughtn't have been sneakin' ale in the first place… even if it was from the Green Dragon." He sighed.
Merry strode up to Pippin's side, putting an arm around his young friends shoulders, "'Tis all far in the past anyhow, Pippin." Merry smiled. "Although, I have to say that it was right amusing watching little Milo drink that whole pint, for his punishment!" Then Merry and Pippin burst into laughter.
"Shh!", came an aggravated hiss from behind them. "How many times does Mister Strider have to tell the both of you to keep it down?" Sam chided. "We can't be drawing any unnecessary attention to ourselves, if you get my meaning."
At that, Merry and Pippin both quieted down and continued walking. Sam was right; they mustn't alert anyone, or anything, to their presence if it could be helped. Pippin shuddered at the thought of attracting the Black Riders, and even more so at the thought of them taking Frodo.
Meanwhile, Frodo was pleased to discover that Asfaloth's gait was much smoother than Bill's ever had been. The elven horse was sure of foot, and careful not to jostle the sick hobbit. It was almost as if Asfaloth was aware of Frodo's condition, and tried to do everything he could to avoid causing the poor hobbit any unnecessary discomfort. He was lonely though, high up in the air. It was so against what was in a hobbit's nature, Frodo thought.
Frodo gave a small sigh; he wished that Sam could have been up there on the horse with him, to keep him company and reassure him. His world was so very dark and cold, he would have given anything to have someone else there to help warm him. Just knowing that he wasn't alone would have been enough.
Waking up was becoming harder and harder for Frodo. He caught small snatches of sleep often, and he was becoming more and more regretful each time someone roused him from it, which seemed to be quite often, he thought. He sat there in the saddle with his eyes closed, wrapped in blankets, listening to the steady beating of Asfaloth's hooves, and the weak beating of his own heart, as it echoed in his ears. The bright mid- afternoon sunlight shined through his eyelids, adding a red tint to his dark world.
"Frodo…" he heard a familiar voice calling him from far off, "Frodo… wake up, little one, you mustn't fall too deeply into sleep." Aragorn finished, reaching up with one hand to stroke the hobbit's pale cheek.
Frodo sighed wearily, "I know, Aragorn, that much you have told me. I am so tired though… and it's so cold. Have you any more blankets?" he finished unsteadily, his eyes still closed, as another wave of chills came over him.
"I'm afraid not, Frodo. Every stitch of spare cloth has been given to you already." The Ranger finished. The small creature sitting upon the white stallion looked so lifeless, Aragorn thought. He blinked several times, fighting back bitter tears of regret. He felt as though he had let Frodo down, he joined the hobbits at Bree so that he might protect them… and now, he may wind up losing one of them because of his negligence. "But, surely I have gotten them farther than they would have gotten alone?" He thought to himself. Deep down, he knew he was right.
Aragorn had noticed Frodo's growing reluctance to wake up long before the others had. As much as the ring-bearer needed rest, Aragorn just couldn't allow him to slip into a darkness that none of them could rescue him from. Not when they were this close to saving him. He was relieved that Glorfindel was now traveling with them and he no longer had to confide in Sam. He hated to burden the young hobbit with excess worry, when he was already beside himself with it.
Aragorn removed his hand from Frodo's cheek, and fell in step with the elf. *Glorfindel, have you noticed-*, Aragorn began. Glorfindel finished Aragorn's thought before he could do so himself, *Yes, Aragorn, and sadly we must not allow him to sleep too deeply. The malady is heavily upon him now. If he loses touch with this world, even Elrond's healing skills may not be able to call him back. *
The company walked on in silence for a while longer. It appeared to everyone that Frodo was growing more distant with every step they took. He had spoken little, and was unresponsive. He lay there; half slumped over onto Asfaloth's neck, in his own painful, dark world, almost completely unaware of anything going on around him.
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When Frodo next came to himself; the smell of Athelas was lingering heavily in the air. He turned his head to the left and saw Aragorn kneeling beside him, bathing his freezing body with a warm cloth. It was dark. He could only just make out Aragorn's visage; the haze that dimmed his vision had become darker and thicker as night approached.
"Aragorn?" Frodo's hoarse voice was barely a murmur.
"I'm here Frodo." Aragorn soothed, "Don't be alarmed; we've stopped for the night. You had a dreadful spell not too long ago; Glorfindel and I decided that it was best that we stop; you weren't able to continue." He finished, pulling the blankets closer around Frodo's shivering form.
"Wh- what… happened?" Frodo inquired shakily, fear rising in the back of his mind once more. The last thing he wanted to do was be more trouble than he knew he already was.
"Here Frodo, drink this." Aragorn directed, as he produced a hot cup of tea. The Ranger swallowed hard, remembering the horrific display from a few hours prior. He knew he couldn't tell the frightened ring-bearer of such things; it wouldn't help the situation. "Nay Frodo, it's over now, there's no need in mentioning such things…although I am surprised that you do not remember. You appeared to be aware of yourself throughout most of the ordeal." Aragorn smiled grimly, "Just…"
That was the last Frodo heard, as he slipped into a fitful sleep. *Let him rest a short while, Aragorn. He will come to no harm, if he only rests briefly. *
Glorfindel had quietly approached Frodo from the other side, placing two gentle hands on the ring-bearer's chest and speaking soft phrases in elvish; willing the weary hobbit to forget his cares and pains.
*Thank you, Glorfindel. I agree that he does need some relief for a brief period of time. *
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Two hours earlier, Aragorn's train of thought was interrupted by Frodo's cries. The Ranger looked up to find the wretched looking hobbit breathing heavily, yet seeming to gather no air in his lungs. He was hunched over onto Asfaloth's neck, his good hand cradling his head.
"Bilbo… it hurts. Make it stop, please… Bilbo." Frodo sobbed. His eyes were squeezed shut; his small body shuddered from cold.
Aragorn fell back, walking alongside Asfaloth. He reached his hand up to rub Frodo's back. "Easy now, Frodo, where does it hurt?" he asked gently.
The only answer Aragorn got, was Frodo's continued sobbing. The Ranger carefully slid one arm under the hobbits front, sitting him upright in the saddle. Then, he lifted him off of the horses back, and into his own arms. "Shh… Frodo, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong."
"You can't help anyway, Strider." Frodo spoke wearily, meeting Aragorn's gaze. The sadness and suffering contained in those once jubilant, innocent eyes, stabbed at Aragorn's heart more than ever.
"Well Frodo, I can do my best to try." The Ranger smiled slightly, trying not to allow Frodo to lose all hope.
Without warning, Frodo cried out in anguish, and stiffened in Aragorn's arms, his breathing erratic.
Frodo whimpered in pain as he felt the Shadow's filling his body with their evil presence once again.
Aragorn held the hobbit close to him, as Frodo kicked and screamed, trying to escape the Ranger's grasp. Trying to join the dark forces that were working their evil magic on his small form. It was strange, Aragorn thought, the hobbit's body trying its hardest to depart the soul that still clung to it by a thread. It fought to cast away that soul, into oblivion, and fill the shell left behind with more of a void than if the body were to remain empty.
Frodo shuddered as he sucked in a sharp breath; the Shadows' grasp on him was at last relinquished. He clung to Aragorn's neck, sobbing into the Rangers shoulder. Aragorn tried his best to comfort Frodo. Rubbing his back and speaking softly to him.
"Aragorn…" Frodo spoke shakily, "I'm so afraid." He paused, catching his breath, "I can't see… I can't see any of you anymore… It's so cold. My head hurts, Aragorn. Make them leave me alone, make it stop." Frodo cried, as he clutched a small arm tightly around Aragorn's neck.
Glorfindel stood by, ready to be of assistance, should anything else happen. The other three hobbits watched with shocked expressions on their faces. Sam was distraught to see his Master in such pain. Salty tears had begun to gather in the corners of his eyes. What hurt the worst was knowing that he could do nothing to help.
*Aragorn, I think it's time we sought shelter for the night. The halfling can continue no further tonight, I believe*, Glorfindel proposed, *the ring- bearer's kinsman are weary, as are you. * The elf finished, hoping the Ranger would heed his advice.
Aragorn looked at his friend, Glorfindel was right. They couldn't go any further that night without rest. Frodo needed to be warmer, and he must drink something. The fit had taken a lot out of him.
*Yes, Glorfindel, gather the other three, I shall look for a place where we may rest safely off of the road. * Aragorn instructed.
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A/N: Thanks for reading, and please review! :) As always, I am in constant need of constructive criticism. :)