A/N: I believe this fic is going to be just a bit longer than 7 chapters after all! Thank you all again for the reviews! :)
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Chapter 6:
Sam was relieved that Frodo had finally drifted off to sleep. They had stopped for the day four hours earlier, just before the Sun's yellow face had begun peeping over the eastern hills. They could perhaps have gone on for another hour, but Frodo had collapsed then with exhaustion and Sam thought it best to seek shelter as soon as possible, for his master's sake.
It had taken the better part of those four hours before Frodo had fallen asleep. His leg had begun leaking fresh blood, and even after that had been dealt with the ring-bearer experienced chills that wracked his small body violently enough to ward off any hope of sleep. Finally, Sam convinced Gollum to search out dry bits of brush and small gnarled pieces of wood from long deceased trees that used to inhabit the lands they were traveling in. With those materials Sam had managed to get a small fire going for a brief amount of time. It was a risky venture, yet he felt that if Frodo were to be allowed any rest then something to ease his chills was in order. The fire had, indeed, helped some, yet Frodo's body still shook with chills, until his weariness finally won the battle and sleep took him at last. That had been only a short while earlier.
Sam rose from his seat next to the dying embers of their small fire. The younger hobbit went to Frodo's side where he lay on a bed fashioned from his Lorien cloak, beneath a small outcropping of rock. Unfortunately they had not been lucky enough to find a niche in the rock as well-protected as the last, yet there was an overhang that had thus far effectively provided shelter from the elements and prying eyes as well.
The gardener touched the back of his callused hand to Frodo's damp brow. It seemed that his master had a bit of a fever, yet it was nothing worth worrying too much about as of yet.
Frodo stirred at Sam's touch, his blue eyes opening slightly to look into Sam's face. He grimaced immediately and put a hand to his head, "My head... it aches awfully, Sam." He commented, "Have you any tea for it?" he asked hopefully.
"Now, Mr. Frodo, you know I ain't got nothin' of that sort out here." Sam replied, his voice heavy with pity and regret. If only he could do something for his master!
Frodo groaned, dismayed at the response. He shuddered beneath the cloak Sam had covered him with, "Cold." He whimpered, his teeth chattering.
He looked down sympathetically on his master. The previous night's journey had nearly done him in from what Sam could gather. "I know, master. An' you've a bit of a fever as well I'm afraid." Said Sam, "Would you like a bit of Lembas? Maybe somethin' to drink?"
Frodo shook his head slightly, wincing as the ache in it intensified, "No thank you." He said, "I'm not hungry at all."
"Alright, I won't press you to take somethin' you don't want," said Sam, "Is there anythin' else I can do then?"
Frodo thought for a moment, his blue eyes focusing unsteadily on Samwise, "Ease the pain in my leg, maybe."
Sam shook his head, "I only wish I could, Mr. Frodo."
"It aches more right now than it did yesterday." He confessed, "I think it may be from all the walking. Yet it can't be helped." He said, trying to raise himself into a sitting position.
"No, Mr. Frodo," Sam intervened, gently pushing his master back to the ground, "Don't you be goin' nowhere. If you need somethin' your Sam will get it."
"I only wanted to sit up, Sam." Frodo said indignantly, "I'm not a child."
"I'm fully aware o' that, sir." Sam replied gently, "But you need to be restin' more than you need to be sittin' up worryin' about somethin' you can't control. Try to sleep more, night will come quickly and we'll be off again. Take some rest while you may."
Frodo nodded, "I know, Sam. I can't sleep though..." he trailed off.
"Please try, Mr. Frodo. You must take some rest." Sam chided.
Frodo sighed wearily, the act of sitting up had made him realize once more how tired he really was, "Wake me when you wish to sleep, Sam." He said, his voice dying down to a murmur as he sank back to the ground. He curled onto his side, leaving his injured leg outstretched, and discreetly took the ring into his hand and gripped it tightly, as if somehow deriving comfort or relief therein.
For his part, Sam had no intention of rousing his master before it was time to set off. Gollum had disappeared among the rocks just before dawn, and Samwise had seen naught of him since. "That Slinker's out stirrin' up more trouble, no doubt." He said aloud.
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To Frodo it seemed like he had hardly drifted into sleep when Sam was by his side once more, gently rousing his master.
"Time to go, Mr. Frodo, night's come again. Gollum's waitin' on us." Sam called gently, smoothing back Frodo's damp curls. He was dismayed to feel that Frodo's fever had risen considerably since earlier that day.
Frodo's first thought upon waking was of Sam, "Why didn't you wake me earlier?" he asked, "You've gotten no rest today, and you must do most of the walking for both of us!" he cried.
"Don't you be worryin' yourself about me, Mr. Frodo." Sam promised, "I've taken as much rest as I'll be needin'. You need the extra rest, seein' as how you're carrying the Ring, sir, and you're hurt pretty bad too."
Frodo was anything but pleased with this, but he had not the strength to argue, and even if he had, arguing would change nothing. He motioned for Sam to help him to his feet.
Gently, Sam lifted his master from his resting place and draped one of Frodo's arms around his own shoulders.
Frodo cried out in spite of himself. His leg was terribly sore from the exertions of the previous night. He shivered as the chilly night air invaded his cloak; he pulled the garment closer about himself and tried to still his trembling limbs. He felt like he was about to collapse, and his stomach was churning even as he stood.
Once in the moonlight, Sam could clearly see the pallor of Frodo's face, and the thin sheen of sweat coating it, mirroring the glow of the moon. "Mr. Frodo?" he asked tentatively.
"I'll be all right, Sam," Frodo whispered quietly, his head bowed slightly.
"Come hobbits! We must travel far yet before the yellow face returns. Many miles we have left to go, yes precious!" Smeagol called encouragingly. Even he could see that Frodo was genuinely hurt: Sam's concern for his master was ever growing, and Frodo's strength was ever waning.
Sam shot Gollum a look of accusation, "Slow up, Stinker! Can't you see he's barely makin' it as it is?"
The accused had barely the chance to respond before a cry from Frodo captured the attention of both Sam and Smeagol.
"Sam!" Frodo whimpered as he began to sag to the ground. His breathing was labored, and his face twisted in a grimace of pain. He groaned as both hands quickly found their way to a place above the break in his leg.
"What's wrong, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, his voice full of concern. "What's happened?" he sank to the ground beside Frodo, tilting the ring-bearer's face up to his own.
Frodo's eyes were wide with fear and pain as they quickly filled with tears, his lips parted, ready to give an explanation, or rather, to ask a question. He was about to answer Sam just as another cramp ravaged the broken limb. He bent his head over the leg, and groped helplessly at his knee as he sought relief from the pain.
Sam immediately knew what was wrong, and he carefully pried Frodo's hands away and begun to massage the calf-muscle, attempting to rub the cramp out of it.
Frodo leaned back on his hands, grateful for Sam's intuition. The brisk rubbing was painful, especially since it was just around the area of his injury, but not as painful as the cramping had been. "Thank you," he breathed with relief as the pain subsided. "I don't know what happened… I think it must have been brought on by all of this activity." He admitted. He felt like weeping, "If I could but rest, Sam!" he cried, "I don't know how much longer I can go on like this."
"There, there, Mr. Frodo," Sam soothed, "Now just you wait 'till we get past these hateful mountains! The goin' will get a bit easier once we've a more flat surface to walk upon." He reasoned.
Frodo nodded. The thought was a small comfort, but it was all he had at the time. He was weary with fever and pain, yet the night was young and not to be wasted on account of his discomfort. They journeyed on until sunrise without further incident.
TBC...