A/N: Wow! Thank you all for continuing to R/R my fic! :) I'm glad you're all enjoying reading it.
Chapter 5:
Sam gently used a corner of his own cloak to wipe around Frodo's mouth after the sickness had passed. "Here, Mr. Frodo," he offered his water skin to Frodo, "Take a wee bit to drink, Sir. It'll get the bad taste out 'o your mouth."
Frodo nodded, blinking fiercely to ward off the black spots that danced in front of his eyes. He received the skin from Sam gratefully and took several swallows of water.
"Are you comfortable, master?" Sam offered, "Let me prop your head up, and I'll go out to find some more water to clean you with, since you've been sick and all."
"No Sam," Frodo interrupted quietly, "Please don't trouble yourself. I'll be fine… it was just nerves that made me ill, and I didn't soil my clothes." He said, "I do wish I had something for my leg," he whimpered as the throbbing made itself known again, "I am grateful that the bone is…" he shuddered, unable to finish the sentence.
Sam nodded, carefully pushing Frodo's bangs out of his eyes, "I know, sir. An' we'll stay 'ere until you feel up to travelin' further."
Frodo shook his head, "No. We must move on, today if possible. Too much time, we have spent, in this cruel maze of rocks and debris. Is it noon yet?"
Sam stepped to the entrance of their hiding place and looked to the sky, "It's about noon right now, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo nodded, "Well, have a bit to eat Sam, and we'll be on our way. But, I'm afraid you'll have to help me. I cannot bear to put weight on my leg."
"Of course not!" Sam burst out, "An' I'd never expect you to, in your condition, sir."
Frodo smiled to himself at this; he really couldn't ask for a better traveling companion. He knew he was in good hands with Sam looking after him.
Smeagol, who had been largely quiet for a while, spoke up then. "Nassty yellow face, precious!" he hissed, "It burns uss, burns us like the rope! Nassty Elves!" he rambled.
"Smeagol, if you're to be our guide, then you must guide us." Frodo put in.
"Smeagol travels in the dark. Yes, precious, Smeagol knows ways through the dark." The creature answered, "We musstn't leave until the yellow face has left! Spiess will see us, precious, if we leave while the yellow face is in the sky." He added for good measure.
This disheartened Frodo. It would make for more difficult travel in the long run for both hobbits. Frodo and Sam couldn't travel nearly as fast after dark through the rocky terrain, not to mention that Frodo would be minus a leg, and Sam having to support him. But it couldn't be helped: Smeagol alone knew the quickest way to leave the Emyn Muil behind; and Frodo had to have assistance in walking.
"We've got no other choice then," Frodo replied to Smeagol's statement.
"I say we tie him up and leave him here for the Orcs, Mr. Frodo!" Sam argued, his feathers having been ruffled by Gollum's apparent inconsiderate nature.
Frodo winced at the tone of Sam's voice; his head was beginning to ache nearly as abominably as his leg. The last thing he wanted to listen to was Sam's irrational argument. "Sam…" Frodo began, "We have no other choice. He is to be our guide henceforward, and if he refuses to travel by day then we must travel by night." Said Frodo, "Now please, Sam, allow me to rest while I may. I suggest you do the same." He suggested.
Sam, though not pleased to leave the argument as it was, relented and settled himself down for a rest on the ground beside Frodo.
Gollum was left to his own devices as the two hobbits attempted to take a bit of rest before night fell. He passed the time quietly: too afraid to approach where the hobbits were sleeping, for fear of waking Sam and incurring his wrath.
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"Master," Sam gently shook Frodo's shoulder, "Master, the sun's set. Gollum says it's time we start for the evening."
Frodo groaned as he woke reluctantly, the pain in his leg worse than ever. "What time is it, Sam?" he asked.
"I don't rightly know, Mr. Frodo. But the sun set nigh on an hour ago." Said Sam.
Frodo nodded, "Alright. I suppose it's time I get up then." He said, attempting to rise to his feet. "Sam… could you, please… please help me. I can't…" he tried not to let frustration get the better of him. He couldn't rise without the use of both of his feet; or Sam's help, so he obligatorily choose the latter.
"Of course, master," said Sam as he stood and took Frodo's outstretched hands in his own, pulling his master carefully to his feet—or foot, rather.
Frodo gasped as his right foot touched the ground, sending a jolt of pain up the broken limb. "Oh…" he whimpered, falling against Sam for support, wrapping one arm tightly around the gardener's neck. "I don't know how far I can go, Sam." He spoke into Sam's ear, his weak voice shaking slightly. Already it appeared as though this would be more difficult for both than either of the hobbits had originally thought. The jolt of every step would likely send Frodo reeling from the pain in his leg.
"We'll take it one step at a time, as me Gaffer would say, Mr. Frodo." he tried to sound encouraging, though he felt his courage wan as Frodo shakily leaned nearly all of his weight onto Sam. "Don't worry, sir."
"Yes," Frodo said breathlessly, as though the mere action of standing had nearly exhausted him, "We'll take this slow, then…tell Smeagol not to get too far ahead."
Sam nodded, and shouted a warning to their guide, "My masters still injured badly, Gollum, and don't you go jumpin' around on those rocks like a wild coney and make us hasten our way to keep you in our sights!" the gardener warned, "Or else I'll tie that rope back on your neck to keep you in check!"
"Nice Smeagol!" said Gollum, already making his way outside of the alcove, "Nice hobbitses! Follow Smeagol, hurry now," he said, almost as though he were intentionally testing Sam. Smeagol felt safe with Frodo around, he knew the injured hobbit would only allow so much cruelty to be dealt out by the stout one.
Sam's prediction proved true as soon as the two hobbits began to walk. Frodo's grip tightened around Sam's neck, and he leaned just a bit more of his weight onto the gardener's sturdy frame.
Sam held Frodo close as they began their journey, shushing him gently as each step brought tears closer to his master's eyes, and sometimes educed a short gasp or cry of pain. His leg jolted with every step, and the effort of holding it above the ground was almost too much for Frodo.
Tears begun to well in Frodo's eyes as he realized how painful this was going to be for him, every step a painful reminder of his broken leg, every stumble by Sam would be an agonizing mistake felt by Frodo. The night was going to be dark and long indeed, as would every night for some time.
Despite the fact that he had rested rather well during the day, Frodo soon found himself bowing his head in weariness. The added weight of the Ring didn't help, as it drained his strength like nothing else could.
"Could we take a brief rest, Smeagol?" Frodo called ahead to their guide.
"Yess… hobbitses aren't used to traveling at night so much as Smeagol iss!" he answered.
"Thank you," Frodo breathed a sigh of relief as Sam eased his trembling body to the ground, and propped his head up with his pack.
"Let me tend your leg, Mr. Frodo," Sam offered.
"No, Sam. It's painful enough as it is." Frodo answered
"Please, master! It'll grow infected if you don't watch, then where'll we be?" said Sam.
Frodo sighed regretfully, knowing Sam was right. "Be gentle with it Sam." He warned.
Sam nodded, "Yes, sir." He said, and began rummaging though his pack for a scrap of clean fabric. "An' I think we ought to bandage it while traveling, so as to keep the dirt out!" he said.
"Yes, I suppose you're right again, Sam." Frodo admitted, resting his aching head in his hands as he sought relief.
Sam smiled gratefully. He might not be as book-learned as his master, but he had enough common hobbit-sense for the entire shire.
Frodo clenched the earth in his hands and bit his lip as Sam began to clean his leg, picking at the raw, bruised flesh until he considered it clean. He then carefully wrapped a strip of cloth around the most damaged portion of the leg in an attempt to keep the wound as clean as possible.
Sam didn't say anything to Frodo, but he fully intended on getting part of a Lembas wafer and some water into Frodo before they set off again. "Here, Mr. Frodo," he said, handing his master a piece of a wafer, "Let's eat now so we won't have to stop again later," he disguised his attempt with a package of reasoning that Frodo would likely accept. He fully intended on stopping later to allow Frodo a rest, and perhaps something more to eat as well.
"Oh Sam," Frodo complained, "I'm so tired of these…" but he took the bread gingerly and nibbled at it. That alone was enough to please Sam. He took the other portion of wafer for himself, and quickly ate all of it.
Frodo sat thoughtfully while the rest lasted, grateful for a break. Though his thoughts were not untroubled, it had now been a day and a half since his fall and already the leg was overly warm to the touch—he had elected to hide this from Sam for the time being, the younger hobbit already bore too much of a burden. It was swollen as well, which he felt was normal, yet the one thing he needed was impossible: he needed to be resting somewhere with his leg elevated, and drinking teas that took down swelling.
"Let us be on our way," Frodo announced with great regret, "With any luck we'll get a few more miles behind us before sunrise."