A/N: Wow! I haven't updated this in. . . way, way too long. Sorry! :( I got
so sidetracked with my other fic, that I completely neglected this one.
Thank *all* of you for the reviews and continued interest in this fic! :)
And shame on me for not updating sooner! Here's chapter 15. :)
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Chapter XV:
Elrond was unable to conceal a grin as he held up the bloodied splinter of Morgul blade. "I believe," he began, raising his eyes to meet Sam's anxious gaze, "That this is what we've been hoping to find."
Frodo sighed audibly, as though a dark cloud had departed him. The simple action instilled hope in the hearts of those present in the room. If the Ring-bearer's spirit was already returning, so soon after the blade fragment was removed, then that bode well for Frodo's recovery.
Sam smiled gratefully at the Elf-lord and then eyed the fragment suspiciously as he placed it on a small tray that lay waiting. "All that fuss over such a small thing." he thought aloud, shaking his head. All of this magic and wizardry, whether good or bad, was beyond him.
"Indeed, Master Gamgee, so often that is the case," Elrond mused.
"When will Mister Frodo wake up?" Sam asked insistently, "Will he be all right now that the cursed piece of metal is gone?" he persisted, stroking his master's dark mop of curls.
Gandalf chuckled quietly from his chair on the other side of the bed, "Samwise, that *is* the question, is it not?" he sighed, "If asking it could have healed your Master then I believe he would have been up and about two days ago." He jested lightly. The wizard had begun to wish that he had placed a wager with Elrond on how many times the hobbit could ask the same question in one hour.
"Yes, sir, Mister Gandalf, I suppose it is the question that's been on everyone's mind. But, beggin' your pardon, I believe it's one rightfully asked." Sam retorted gently, flashing Gandalf a small smile.
The mood in the room was considerably lighter since the splinter of blade had been recovered. Frodo was, at last, past the worst danger. Though there was still the risk of infection and too much lost blood, it was a minute concern compared to the threat of becoming a Wraith. The Ring-bearer was strong, and if it were in him to survive, then he would come out of this predicament whole, and Elrond felt sure that he would.
"Gandalf, would you mind fetching that box for me? The small one." He gestured towards a low table near the middle of the room.
Gandalf retrieved the box, setting it down lightly on the bed next to where Elrond was working.
"What's that for?" Sam asked, ever watchful of things that might possibly concern his master's well being.
"The box contains the materials required for closing the wound, Samwise." Elrond answered casually, not looking up from his work.
"You mean bandages? I've got some right decent ones in my pack, the ones we use at home in the Shire, they might fit him better." Sam offered, "I would get them myself, though I don't believe it would be right to disturb Mister Frodo, if you get my meaning." he pointed to Frodo's head where it lay cradled in his lap, "Mister Gandalf, is it too much of a bother for you to fetch them? They're just over there next to the window." Sam moved his hand from his Master's still form and pointed to where his travel worn pack lay crumpled on the other side of the room.
"No, Master Gamgee, that won't be necessary." Elrond interjected, "I have all of the essential items right here." He pointed to the, now open, box.
"Are you sure, sir?" Sam asked cautiously, "I don't mean to be mindin' your business for you, but all I see in that box is some thread, and thin thread at that. Thinnest I've ever seen." He rambled, obviously not realizing what the Elf-lord had in store for his master.
Elrond ignored Sam's last comment and continued working over Frodo's shoulder. He fetched a clean towel from the dwindling stack and doused it in various clear, pleasant-smelling, liquids before pressing it to the wound on Frodo's shoulder.
Sam gasped in surprise when Frodo whimpered, his body jerking beneath the younger hobbits' hands as he struggled to escape the sanitizing liquids on the cloth. "Shh. Mister Frodo. Mister Elrond is helping you; just hold on now." He soothed, patting his master's cheek gently. He took Frodo's left hand into his own, relieved to feel that some warmth had already begun to return to it.
At length, Elrond was satisfied with the condition of the wound and laid the towel and bottles aside. He picked up the box, lifting the thread to reveal a small piece of cloth with several slightly curved, bone needles protruding from it.
Sam's eyes grew large, "What are you doing!" he nearly yelled, not afraid to appear ill mannered.
"Samwise, don't force me to ask you to leave." Elrond chastised gently. He wasn't surprised at the young hobbit's reaction, but he had already thought out which arguments he would use to counter Sam's.
"But," Sam protested, "Y- You're not going to. . . use that needle on him, are you, sir?" he asked, his voice full of apprehension. Sam had heard of the procedure before. Occasionally a hobbit-lad or lass would take a bad fall and the resulting wound required more than just a bandage to be healed properly. Though, the thought of needles and thread being used on his dear Master, after he had already suffered so much, was almost too much for Sam. "I don't see where that's really necessary, Mister Elrond." Sam tried, attempting to dissuade the Elf-lord.
Elrond said nothing, but continued to examine the needles, selecting just the right one for the job, passing it slowly through a candle flame.
"No, sir, I'm sorry but I can't let you do that to Mister Frodo!" The hobbit argued, guarding Frodo's body protectively with his arms. Sam felt rather put out due to the fact that he was being ignored. He believed that he ought to have just as much of a say in his master's care as anyone else.
Elrond paused in his preparations, meeting the gardener's eyes with a gaze that made Sam rethink his words and remember his place among these more powerful- not to mention more learned- beings. "Master Gamgee," Elrond began, his voice sharp, but not unkind, "You do not have to remain in this room if you cannot bear to watch this procedure." He reminded the hobbit, "This *is* necessary, Samwise." The Elf-lord continued, holding Sam's gaze, "Frodo's wound is nearly as deep as my hand is long, and as wide as my finger in some places." Elrond pointed out, holding up a hand in an effort to put a picture with his words. "We cannot risk an infection, it would be the end of him, Sam. He hasn't got the strength to fight more than is necessary, it would be foolish to risk adding more complications to this already precarious situation." Elrond continued, not satisfied until he had shocked Sam into a silent state. Though he was glad the young hobbit had remained in the room, for Frodo's sake, Sam had proved to be trying at times. "Look over there," Elrond gestured to the pile of bloodied towels, "All of the blood that stains those towels, is that much less blood that your master has in his body, Sam." He looked at Sam's face, noticing that it had paled further after seeing the towels.
Sam nodded slowly, bowing his head, "I understand, sir." He murmured, beginning to stroke Frodo's cheek soothingly. "I just don't want him to hurt any more than he already he has, that's all." He confessed.
"It will be all right, Samwise." Elrond smiled slightly, softening the tone of his voice, "The needle is extremely sharp, and I will work quickly. This thread is very fine, and I doubt that your master will feel much at all. . ." Elrond promised, "Even if he should feel pain, it is trivial compared to what he's already been through." The Elf-lord finished.
Sam nodded once more; he knew Elrond was right. The journey from Weathertop to Rivendell had been awful for his master, for all of them, and throughout that time Frodo had experienced many things that a hobbit from the Shire should never had had to go through. What were a few needle pricks, if it meant that Frodo would be well again?
"Sam?" Elrond questioned tentatively, he could tell that the hobbit was reliving an unpleasant memory. "Samwise I need you to pay attention. . .be ready to keep your master still, just in case he should jerk away." The Elf- lord directed.
Sam looked away as Elrond positioned the needle above the tender skin surrounding his master's wound. He could not bear to watch the procedure, though he could hear the needle entering and exiting Frodo's flesh as Elrond's nimble fingers worked quickly with the needle and thread to close the opening.
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When Elrond finished, the sun was only a few hours from rising. The Elf- lord set Gandalf to watch over the Ring-bearer. Frodo had exhibited little or no signs of pain during the procedure, much to Elrond's relief. The hobbit had immediately shown signs of improvement: the cold in his small body was receding, and his face wasn't nearly as pale. Elrond knew that Frodo was resting more comfortably now than he had in weeks.
Sam sat up with his master as long as he was able to hold his eyelids open. Elrond had sent a servant to Frodo's room, bearing a lavish tray of food and drink for the weary gardener. Sam devoured the generous offering of delicacies, he was famished after sitting by Frodo's side all day watching Elrond probe around in his dear master's shoulder, leaving for brief periods only when necessary. Finally he felt that he was able to really enjoy his food, and then rest- almost without fear for his master's well being- for the first time since they had left the Shire. With his pent up weariness overcoming him rapidly, he was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
Gandalf smiled contently as he watched the two hobbits, servant and master, lying asleep in the large Elvish bed with its fancifully carved posts, and finely woven linens. Though raised in different classes, each possessed an equal amount of love, respect and dedication for the other. He knew that their closeness would see them through dark times that may lie ahead, though at the time there was no way he could have known just how right he was.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! :) Please let me know what you think.
I went back and reread a few chapters of this fic, and I was surprised at how differently I wrote this one compared to how I've been writing "September" (at least it seems that way to me.). There's still one more chapter left in this fic. . . I wanted to go ahead and post this now though because I start another job Wednesday and I just don't know when I'll be able to update again. I will try to finish chapter 8 of "September" before tomorrow night. :)
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Chapter XV:
Elrond was unable to conceal a grin as he held up the bloodied splinter of Morgul blade. "I believe," he began, raising his eyes to meet Sam's anxious gaze, "That this is what we've been hoping to find."
Frodo sighed audibly, as though a dark cloud had departed him. The simple action instilled hope in the hearts of those present in the room. If the Ring-bearer's spirit was already returning, so soon after the blade fragment was removed, then that bode well for Frodo's recovery.
Sam smiled gratefully at the Elf-lord and then eyed the fragment suspiciously as he placed it on a small tray that lay waiting. "All that fuss over such a small thing." he thought aloud, shaking his head. All of this magic and wizardry, whether good or bad, was beyond him.
"Indeed, Master Gamgee, so often that is the case," Elrond mused.
"When will Mister Frodo wake up?" Sam asked insistently, "Will he be all right now that the cursed piece of metal is gone?" he persisted, stroking his master's dark mop of curls.
Gandalf chuckled quietly from his chair on the other side of the bed, "Samwise, that *is* the question, is it not?" he sighed, "If asking it could have healed your Master then I believe he would have been up and about two days ago." He jested lightly. The wizard had begun to wish that he had placed a wager with Elrond on how many times the hobbit could ask the same question in one hour.
"Yes, sir, Mister Gandalf, I suppose it is the question that's been on everyone's mind. But, beggin' your pardon, I believe it's one rightfully asked." Sam retorted gently, flashing Gandalf a small smile.
The mood in the room was considerably lighter since the splinter of blade had been recovered. Frodo was, at last, past the worst danger. Though there was still the risk of infection and too much lost blood, it was a minute concern compared to the threat of becoming a Wraith. The Ring-bearer was strong, and if it were in him to survive, then he would come out of this predicament whole, and Elrond felt sure that he would.
"Gandalf, would you mind fetching that box for me? The small one." He gestured towards a low table near the middle of the room.
Gandalf retrieved the box, setting it down lightly on the bed next to where Elrond was working.
"What's that for?" Sam asked, ever watchful of things that might possibly concern his master's well being.
"The box contains the materials required for closing the wound, Samwise." Elrond answered casually, not looking up from his work.
"You mean bandages? I've got some right decent ones in my pack, the ones we use at home in the Shire, they might fit him better." Sam offered, "I would get them myself, though I don't believe it would be right to disturb Mister Frodo, if you get my meaning." he pointed to Frodo's head where it lay cradled in his lap, "Mister Gandalf, is it too much of a bother for you to fetch them? They're just over there next to the window." Sam moved his hand from his Master's still form and pointed to where his travel worn pack lay crumpled on the other side of the room.
"No, Master Gamgee, that won't be necessary." Elrond interjected, "I have all of the essential items right here." He pointed to the, now open, box.
"Are you sure, sir?" Sam asked cautiously, "I don't mean to be mindin' your business for you, but all I see in that box is some thread, and thin thread at that. Thinnest I've ever seen." He rambled, obviously not realizing what the Elf-lord had in store for his master.
Elrond ignored Sam's last comment and continued working over Frodo's shoulder. He fetched a clean towel from the dwindling stack and doused it in various clear, pleasant-smelling, liquids before pressing it to the wound on Frodo's shoulder.
Sam gasped in surprise when Frodo whimpered, his body jerking beneath the younger hobbits' hands as he struggled to escape the sanitizing liquids on the cloth. "Shh. Mister Frodo. Mister Elrond is helping you; just hold on now." He soothed, patting his master's cheek gently. He took Frodo's left hand into his own, relieved to feel that some warmth had already begun to return to it.
At length, Elrond was satisfied with the condition of the wound and laid the towel and bottles aside. He picked up the box, lifting the thread to reveal a small piece of cloth with several slightly curved, bone needles protruding from it.
Sam's eyes grew large, "What are you doing!" he nearly yelled, not afraid to appear ill mannered.
"Samwise, don't force me to ask you to leave." Elrond chastised gently. He wasn't surprised at the young hobbit's reaction, but he had already thought out which arguments he would use to counter Sam's.
"But," Sam protested, "Y- You're not going to. . . use that needle on him, are you, sir?" he asked, his voice full of apprehension. Sam had heard of the procedure before. Occasionally a hobbit-lad or lass would take a bad fall and the resulting wound required more than just a bandage to be healed properly. Though, the thought of needles and thread being used on his dear Master, after he had already suffered so much, was almost too much for Sam. "I don't see where that's really necessary, Mister Elrond." Sam tried, attempting to dissuade the Elf-lord.
Elrond said nothing, but continued to examine the needles, selecting just the right one for the job, passing it slowly through a candle flame.
"No, sir, I'm sorry but I can't let you do that to Mister Frodo!" The hobbit argued, guarding Frodo's body protectively with his arms. Sam felt rather put out due to the fact that he was being ignored. He believed that he ought to have just as much of a say in his master's care as anyone else.
Elrond paused in his preparations, meeting the gardener's eyes with a gaze that made Sam rethink his words and remember his place among these more powerful- not to mention more learned- beings. "Master Gamgee," Elrond began, his voice sharp, but not unkind, "You do not have to remain in this room if you cannot bear to watch this procedure." He reminded the hobbit, "This *is* necessary, Samwise." The Elf-lord continued, holding Sam's gaze, "Frodo's wound is nearly as deep as my hand is long, and as wide as my finger in some places." Elrond pointed out, holding up a hand in an effort to put a picture with his words. "We cannot risk an infection, it would be the end of him, Sam. He hasn't got the strength to fight more than is necessary, it would be foolish to risk adding more complications to this already precarious situation." Elrond continued, not satisfied until he had shocked Sam into a silent state. Though he was glad the young hobbit had remained in the room, for Frodo's sake, Sam had proved to be trying at times. "Look over there," Elrond gestured to the pile of bloodied towels, "All of the blood that stains those towels, is that much less blood that your master has in his body, Sam." He looked at Sam's face, noticing that it had paled further after seeing the towels.
Sam nodded slowly, bowing his head, "I understand, sir." He murmured, beginning to stroke Frodo's cheek soothingly. "I just don't want him to hurt any more than he already he has, that's all." He confessed.
"It will be all right, Samwise." Elrond smiled slightly, softening the tone of his voice, "The needle is extremely sharp, and I will work quickly. This thread is very fine, and I doubt that your master will feel much at all. . ." Elrond promised, "Even if he should feel pain, it is trivial compared to what he's already been through." The Elf-lord finished.
Sam nodded once more; he knew Elrond was right. The journey from Weathertop to Rivendell had been awful for his master, for all of them, and throughout that time Frodo had experienced many things that a hobbit from the Shire should never had had to go through. What were a few needle pricks, if it meant that Frodo would be well again?
"Sam?" Elrond questioned tentatively, he could tell that the hobbit was reliving an unpleasant memory. "Samwise I need you to pay attention. . .be ready to keep your master still, just in case he should jerk away." The Elf- lord directed.
Sam looked away as Elrond positioned the needle above the tender skin surrounding his master's wound. He could not bear to watch the procedure, though he could hear the needle entering and exiting Frodo's flesh as Elrond's nimble fingers worked quickly with the needle and thread to close the opening.
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When Elrond finished, the sun was only a few hours from rising. The Elf- lord set Gandalf to watch over the Ring-bearer. Frodo had exhibited little or no signs of pain during the procedure, much to Elrond's relief. The hobbit had immediately shown signs of improvement: the cold in his small body was receding, and his face wasn't nearly as pale. Elrond knew that Frodo was resting more comfortably now than he had in weeks.
Sam sat up with his master as long as he was able to hold his eyelids open. Elrond had sent a servant to Frodo's room, bearing a lavish tray of food and drink for the weary gardener. Sam devoured the generous offering of delicacies, he was famished after sitting by Frodo's side all day watching Elrond probe around in his dear master's shoulder, leaving for brief periods only when necessary. Finally he felt that he was able to really enjoy his food, and then rest- almost without fear for his master's well being- for the first time since they had left the Shire. With his pent up weariness overcoming him rapidly, he was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
Gandalf smiled contently as he watched the two hobbits, servant and master, lying asleep in the large Elvish bed with its fancifully carved posts, and finely woven linens. Though raised in different classes, each possessed an equal amount of love, respect and dedication for the other. He knew that their closeness would see them through dark times that may lie ahead, though at the time there was no way he could have known just how right he was.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! :) Please let me know what you think.
I went back and reread a few chapters of this fic, and I was surprised at how differently I wrote this one compared to how I've been writing "September" (at least it seems that way to me.). There's still one more chapter left in this fic. . . I wanted to go ahead and post this now though because I start another job Wednesday and I just don't know when I'll be able to update again. I will try to finish chapter 8 of "September" before tomorrow night. :)