Chapter 11: Arrival in Rivendell
I didn't see the Lady Arwen defy the wraiths at the Ford. By the time I had stumbled across the river, keeping to the shallowest parts, with Strider carrying me in the middle, Elves had come out of the woods and were lifting Frodo onto a stretcher. I ran up to them.
"How is he?" I demanded without catching my breath or introducing myself.
One of the elves looked at me sympathetically. "He is dying." he said softly. "Even Elrond may not be able to save him."
"Are you taking him to Master Elrond?" I begged. "You've got to."
"We will."
The elves turned and began to carry Frodo slowly up the bank. I went with them. "Can't I stay with him? Please?"
"Who are you?" one of the Elves asked.
I felt Strider's hand on my shoulder. "This is Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's servant. Let him stay as long as he can."
The elves did let me stay. They even let me hold Frodo's hand as we walked. Frodo was silent and cold. I patted his hand and talked to him quietly, though I was sure he couldn't hear me.
When we entered Rivendell I was too absorbed with my master to notice much, but I did admire the colorful leaves beneath my feet. The elves carried Frodo down rich, lovely halls and into a small room, where they laid him in a little bed. Then people clustered around, talking long and earnestly, and I was forgotten for a long time. I hadn't seen where Strider or my friends had gone, and I didn't see anyone that I knew until the door opened and Gandalf almost rushed into the room.
"Mr. Gandalf!" I exclaimed.
He went to me, took me by the hand and pulled me through the crowd to Frodo's bedside.
"Tell me exactly what happened, Samwise. Quickly."
He was trying to keep his voice low so as not to frighten me, but in his eyes was unmistakable terror.
"We—we were up on Weathertop," I stammered. "And the Black Riders attacked us. We tried to fight them, and I fell over and when I was getting up I heard Mr Frodo scream. So I ran over and he was lyin' up against a stone holding his shoulder and gasping, and then Strider appeared and drove the Black Riders off. But I guess one of those Riders stabbed Mr. Frodo in the shoulder. I think he must have put…It…on, and they saw him. We tried to keep him warm, but he was so cold and when we found the knife it all melted away, and his wound was so funny—sort of bluish with hardly any blood, and when anyone touched his shoulder he would just about scream in pain. So we took him here just as fast as we could, but by yesterday morning he was all cold and limp and he hasn't spoken a word and—" I broke down crying and couldn't continue.
Gandalf put a hand on my shoulder. "Hush, Sam." He bent and felt Frodo's forehead, looking into his face. Then he shook his head and said to an elf next to him "Find Master Elrond. Quickly!"
The elf nodded and vanished into the hall. Gandalf put his hand softly on Frodo's head and whispered to him. Then he turned to me.
"Come, Sam. You can stay here. If your master gets better, he will need you."
He brought me a chair, and I curled up in it and tried to dry my tears. Gandalf sat beside me, and he let me take Frodo's hand in mine.
I sat like that all day and all night. Gandalf went in and out. Frodo spoke no word, and gave no sign when I called his name or kissed his cold hand. In the afternoon, I had a surprise. Mr. Bilbo came into the room and sat with me. Apparently he had heard the whole story, for he didn't ask any questions. He simply put an arm around me and said "Hullo, Sam my lad. Has there been any change?"
When I shook my head, he patted my arm and took up the seat beside me. There we sat for hours, taking turns holding Frodo's hand or sitting on the edge of his bed and stroking his hair. Once Frodo began to murmur incoherently, and I looked up hopefully, but Gandalf whispered "He will spend his last strength on his dreams. Sam, see if you can calm him."
I bent over and kissed his forehead, rubbing his arm and tucking the blankets around him. "Shh, master. Your Sam's here. Your Sam's with you, and Mr Bilbo, and Mr Gandalf. We'll all look after you." I kept caressing his brow, and at last he stopped murmuring, sighed and turned his head toward me as if he wanted to move closer to me. I took both his hands in mine, and the fingers of his right hand tightened just a little over mine.
"He's holdin' my hand." I whispered, my eyes filling with pitiful tears. "Look at him, Mr. Gandalf. He knows it's me."
Gandalf smiled sadly. "He does indeed. Stay with him as long as you can, master Gamgee."
I couldn't bear to make Frodo let go of my hand for a long time. At supper time an elf brought in a tray for me, and I ate clumsily one-handed. When I was finished, I helped Gandalf coax Frodo to eat.
"C'mon Mr Frodo. Just one bite. Just one." I said. Gandalf pressed the spoon to Frodo's lips, and Frodo closed his mouth tightly and tried to turn his head away. Gandalf followed his mouth with the spoon, and Frodo moved again, making little grunting noises like he was annoyed at our persistence.
"Frodo," Gandalf said, gently but earnestly, "We cannot help you if you do not eat. The medicines that would help you can only be taken on a full stomach."
Frodo murmured something, but pressed his lips together again when Gandalf tried to poke the spoon into his mouth.
"Can you do anything for him if he won't eat?" Bilbo asked.
Gandalf looked at the old hobbit for a long moment, then shook his head. "I do not know. Elrond is a master of healing. I have seen him work wonders, but if a patient will not eat, he weakens so quickly that sometimes he cannot respond to even the best treatment."
"Let me try." I said. Gandalf gave me the spoon. I took Frodo's chin in my hand and stroked his cheek gently.
"Mr Frodo, dear. It's your Sam. Listen, you've got to eat. I know you're not feeling well, but just eat a little, all right? Now come here. Open up."
I stroked Frodo's cheek again and held the spoon to his lips. Frodo opened his mouth and swallowed the soup I had offered him.
"Good, Mr. Frodo! That's right, dearie. You want to try again?"
I got another spoonful of soup and fed it to Frodo. His eyes were closed and his head lay limply back against the pillows, but he swallowed a few spoonfuls of soup before he pressed his lips together again and turned his head away from me. I quickly handed the bowl and spoon to Gandalf and cuddled Frodo against me.
"You all done? That's all right, dear. You did wonderful. Now give me your hand."
I took Frodo's cold, limp hand and kissed it. Frodo tightened his fingers around my hand. After a moment his head fell against my shoulder and I could hear him murmuring deliriously. I rubbed his back.
"Shh, shh. Get some sleep. You did just fine. Your Sam loves you. Get some sleep, dearie."
I kept rubbing his back and I let him hold my hand, and within moments he stopped murmuring and seemed to sleep more quietly.
"You have a wonderful way with him, Sam." Gandalf said.
I blushed and turned hastily away. "Well, he's been sick for a bit and I've been with him the whole time. I guess I know what to do, at least a little. That's all it is."
"No, you have a special way about you." Gandalf said. "If I were to take his hand just now, he would not know me from Bilbo or anyone else. But he holds your hand, and lets you feed him. It is because of the love you have for him. We all love Frodo, but you are close to him in a way that none of us can be."
I shook my head, embarrassed. "It's just cause I've been with him."
"And how is love developed, if not through time and care for another?" Gandalf asked gently.
I didn't have an answer to that, and I just squeezed Frodo's poor little limp hand and held him close.
At last Gandalf made me go to bed. "You haven't slept in a week, Master Samwise. The last thing we need is for you to be ill as well. You cannot help your master by ruining your own health."
"Wake me if there's any change." I begged. "Please."
"We will. Trust us." Gandalf said gently. "Now get some sleep, my dear hobbit."
There were at least ten elves in the bedroom, standing beside Elrond, and Gandalf knelt at Frodo's bedside and held the hobbit's hand. Frodo lay weakly on his back. His right hand twitched occasionally, and sometimes he murmured in his dreams. Aragorn stood leaning on the bedpost, looking down at Frodo with a grave expression on his face. The room was rather crowded with so many people, but everyone wanted to be near the small patient and do all they could to ease his suffering, so Elrond allowed them to stay. Elrond himself was bending over Frodo. He had unbuttoned the hobbit's shirt and was sponging the blood from Frodo's shoulder. The wound had begun to bleed again. Frodo's bare chest was heaving with every gasping breath he took. Elrond seemed very concerned, and he kept feeling Frodo's pulse as if he wanted to ensure that the hobbit was still alive. At last he straightened up and went to the nearby table. While he straightened the bottles and glasses that stood there and washed his hands yet again in a basin of fresh water, everyone stood silently. Then Elrond turned. "How conscious is he, Gandalf?"
Gandalf rose to his feet and laid a hand on Frodo's head. "Frodo." he said softly. Frodo stirred and whimpered. The wizard stroked his hair. "He is responding when I touch him." he said.
Elrond sighed. "I wish that he would sleep again, but I dare not wait any longer. We must try once more to remove the splinter. It will be buried very deep by now—almost to his heart. I could not bear it if he…"
Everyone nodded silently.
Elrond strode over to the bed. "He must be kept quiet and still." he said. "I can give him no strong medicines, only a simple painkiller. He has not eaten anything all day, and the shard is too near his heart. I am afraid it would kill him. Gandalf, Aragorn, he knows and trusts you both, I deem. Sit beside him and hold him still."
Several of the elves quickly left the room, as if they couldn't bear to see the procedure of the next minutes. Aragorn and Gandalf went to Frodo's right side and sat on the edge of his bed. Gandalf took Frodo in his arms and held him firmly but gently. Aragorn held Frodo's right hand in his and caressed it. Elrond motioned to a few of the elves, and together they bent over Frodo and began to work over him. Within seconds, Frodo stiffened. He arched his back and wrenched his hand from Aragorn's grip. Aragon gently took his hand again.
"Frodo," Gandalf said in the hobbit's ear, "You must be still. You must trust us."
Frodo gave a gasp and struggled for breath. Aragorn began to stroke his cheek gently, and Frodo let out a sob of pain. Gandalf held him close. But Frodo continued to struggle.
"He will spend what little strength remains to him." Aragorn murmured.
Everyone in the room was watching the proceedings with pained expressions on their faces. Some began to speak softly to Frodo, trying to comfort or to calm him a little, but nothing seemed to help.
After only a few minutes, Elrond straightened up. "He must sit still." he said. "I do not know what to do for him."
Frodo was whimpering, squirming away from the elves' touch. Gandalf stroked his hair and held him against his chest. "Aragorn, wake Sam." he said. "I hate for him to have to see this, but there is nothing else to be done." Aragorn bent over Frodo and spoke softly to him, then hurried from the room. Gandalf began to rub Frodo's back. Frodo relaxed a little, and Gandalf put another pillow behind him and helped him lean back again.
"Sam! Sam, get up."
I opened my eyes wearily as Strider shook my shoulder. "What is it? Is it Mr. Frodo?" I immediately scrambled out of bed, shivering in the chill night air.
"Yes, your master needs you. Come quickly."
I pulled on my bathrobe and stumbled down the dark, silent hall after Strider. Strider knocked before entering Frodo's room, and an Elf with a very grave face looked out to see who was at the door before he let us in. The room was stifling, but somehow cold. What was happening?
Immediately I looked around for Frodo. He was sitting up in bed, eyes closed, propped up with many pillows. A small group of the most experienced healers were gathered around my master. Elrond and Gandalf stood at his side, speaking softly together. When he saw that I had come in, Gandalf hurried over to me.
"Samwise, we fear that a fragment of the wraith's blade remains buried in Frodo's wound. It is working inward, and that is why he is not improving. If it is not removed tonight, he will die. We tried earlier, but he became very distraught."
I nodded to show that I understood. "What do you need me to do?" I asked in a small voice.
"Even a simple touch tends to make Frodo nervous." said Gandalf. "Removing the splinter may cause him a great deal of pain, and we are afraid that he will use his last remaining strength in struggling as we work. We cannot hold him still by force, for that would frighten him, and we cannot sedate him completely because the shard is too near his heart now. We have to be extremely careful that his heart keeps beating, and Elrond is afraid that a heavy sedative would slow his heart rate too much. We need you to sit beside him and keep him still and calm, as much as you can."
"Will he be able to feel you…?" I felt sick.
"He will not feel everything, but he will probably be in rather severe pain."
I nodded. "I'll do it."
"Sit on his right side." Gandalf said gently.
I walked slowly over and clambered up on the bed, and I took Frodo's limp hand in mine.
"Listen, Mr. Frodo." I whispered, touching his cheek gently. "This is gonna hurt. You just hold tight to my hand and don't cry. Trust your Sam. I won't leave you."
Elrond was moving quickly, stripping away the blankets and handing out masks for everyone to wear over their faces. "Except for you, Samwise." he said. "He needs to be able to hear your voice. Keep him sitting up. It will be an easier angle for me to work at."
"You'll do it quick?" I whispered.
"As quickly as we can."
I scooted close to Frodo, slipped my arm behind his back to hold him up, and then nodded at Elrond.
I couldn't see what Gandalf and Elrond and the other healers were doing, or understand the Elvish words they muttered through their masks, but within seconds Frodo stiffened and his hand closed tightly around mine.
"It's all right, master." I whispered. "Shh, shh. I know. Your Sam understands. I know it hurts." I held Frodo close. He turned his head and hid his face against my shoulder, making a helpless little sound. I kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back. "Just stay calm, dearest. The quieter you are, the sooner they'll finish. They're helpin' you, Mr. Frodo. I know it hurts. Just hold on."
Frodo's breaths came in great heaving gasps. I kept stroking his hair and rubbing his back softly. My tears dropped onto the blankets. Frodo didn't cry. He just clung to my hand and let me try to soothe him, throwing his head back to moan softly, or burrowing deeper into my embrace looking for comfort.
The worst part was that he was conscious enough to feel the pain, but he was still sleepy and bewildered. He recognized my voice and the feel of my hands, but he didn't know what was happening or why he was in so much pain, or why I was trying to keep him still, or who the people at his other side were. He whimpered and trembled with fear as much as with pain. All I could to was to speak softly to him and hold him in my arms. I trusted Gandalf and Elrond to be as gentle as they could—they could do nothing else for him except what they were doing. But how I hated it all.
"Mr Frodo, my dear. Sweetheart, sweetheart." I had never called him that before, but my heart throbbed every time he winced or gasped. "Oh, Frodo, it's all right. Shh, shh, shh. I know it hurts so bad. I know all about it. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Hold tight to me. Your Sam's got you." I looked up at Elrond and Gandalf. "Oh, please be gentle with him." I begged.
"We are, Sam. I am sorry." Gandalf said gently. I was starting to sob. Strider came and put his arm around me. I kissed the top of Frodo's head and stroked his hair. "Sweetheart, just hold on. You're bein' so brave—so, so brave. Just keep on a little bit longer. I've got you. It's all right."
Frodo had his face buried in my neck. He was sobbing without tears. His chest heaved violently. I took his hand and smothered it with kisses.
I lay in darkness, vaguely aware that people surrounded me. Then someone touched my right hand. It was Sam—somehow I knew that at once.
"Hold tight to my hand…" his voice echoed faintly through my spinning thoughts. I felt his arm against my back. Then the pain worsened in my shoulder, but this time it felt slightly different. I couldn't focus on being brave anymore, or holding still, or any of the other things that had taken so much of my energy in the past weeks. All I knew was that something hurt me very much, and the only person who was there to help me was Sam. The people on my left side were strangers—they may have even been connected with the pain. But Sam was a friend. He was solid and he did not move. His hand stayed comfortingly around mine, and his voice went on and on.
"Love you…stay still…I'll help you…"
For a moment I wondered why Sam wanted me to sit still—why he didn't stop the pain—but I did know that he loved me, and I just hid my face in his shoulder and let him hold me. Somehow I felt safe in his arms. The pain almost didn't matter. I felt his hand in mine and his lips against my forehead, and I lay dazed and confused and trusting in my hurricane of pain while Sam anchored me in the waking world. But the pain didn't stop, and I was becoming a little more aware. Would it never stop? What if it was like this forever and ever, and I would never have any rest or comfort. I began to whimper, wanting to sob my fears out to Sam but not able to. I felt a hand rubbing my back softly, soothingly.
"Don't cry, Mr Frodo. There's nothin' to be afraid of. Your Sam's got you."
I wrapped my hand around his and held on as tight as I could. I'm scared, Sam. I'm scared. I'm so scared.
I could sense a growing intensity in the air around me. Sam was holding me tighter, and the voices at my side grew more urgent. I buried my face in Sam's neck. He cuddled me against him, saying "oh, sweetheart, sweetheart" over and over again. I could feel his love and his pain at my own suffering, and it comforted me a little.
Sam kissed the top of my head gently. I shrank back against him and he tightened his arm around me, holding me tight and close and secure. I was starting to sob with each breath I let out, barely managing to hold my tears in check. Sam kissed my hand again and again, and I began to relax, resigning myself to the pain and weariness and darkness. If only Sam could stay with me through it—that was all I asked. And I knew he would, just because I needed him. Sam never left me when I needed him.
It seemed to go on for hours. But at last Elrond straightened up with a sigh.
"There it is." he said. "The spell is broken."
At the same moment, Frodo's head fell against my shoulder and rested there. He let out a shuddering breath, then began to breathe softly and deeply.
Gandalf sat down for a moment. His face was grey with weariness. "Thank you, Sam." he said. "We are finished."
I put my arms around Frodo, touching his left side, and he didn't wince. "I'll stay here with him for a bit." I said to Gandalf. Then I bent my head and whispered to Frodo. "All right. They're done. And look at you! You made it. We're so glad, Mr Frodo. You did it."
Frodo clung to me, his hands still trembling with the memory of pain and fear. One by one the elves crept away.
"Get him to sleep, Sam," Gandalf said, "Then I will look after him."
Frodo was still nervous, but he was getting drowsy. I rocked him gently back and forth, stroking his hair. "Shh, Mr Frodo. You get some sleep. You're going to get better. You'll be all right."
At last, Frodo fell into a deep, natural sleep. I stroked his back softly and held his hand, and he began to snore gently. I kissed his forehead. "Oh, I love you Mr. Frodo." I whispered. I laid him gently back against the pillows, and he gave no sign.
"He's sleeping now." I sighed to Gandalf. "Look, he's not so cold."
"Good." Gandalf smiled at me. "Now you get off to bed, Sam Gamgee."
"But he might wake up anytime now!" I protested. "I want to be here!"
"He is exhausted, Sam, and so are you. He will probably sleep far into the morning. You can see him when you get up. We will take care that he is not worried or afraid, if that is what is troubling you."
I frowned and thought for a moment, but I was so tired. At last I kissed Frodo's forehead again and murmured "Good night, my dear. I'll see you tomorrow. Trust your Sam."
Then I patted his hand and clambered down from the bed.
"Good night, Mr. Gandalf." I said, bowing my head respectfully. "And thank you."
"Good night, Mr. Gamgee." Gandalf smiled at me.
I crept out of the room and along the dark, quiet hall. When I reached my own room, I fell onto my bed and slept for hours.
Then suddenly the sharp pain vanished. My lungs seized up. I struggled for breath and felt a flash of panic. Then I took a deep gasping breath and began to breathe deeply and slowly. It felt good. My head dropped against Sam's breast. I heard strange voices, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to sleep while Sam watched over me. My shoulder ached, but the pain was eased so much that I hardly noticed. I couldn't believe it would last, and I kept a tight grip on Sam's hand so I would be ready for the throbbing to come back, but something had changed. The strange voices at my side had gone. Sam was rocking me back and forth, rubbing my back. Gasping and trembling, I leaned against him, and he cradled me in his arms, rocking me gently from side to side as if he sensed how frightened I had been. I felt drowsy and safe. Sam stroked my hair and whispered soothingly to me. As I was falling into a peaceful sleep, I suddenly realized that I was going to recover. *I'm not going to die! I'm going to get to see this new place…maybe I'll see Gandalf…and I'll see Sam again…tell him thank you for staying with me…because it's over now. It's all over.*
The source of the pain had gone. I relaxed my hold on Sam's hand. Then I was sound asleep.
