CHAPTER EIGHT - RESCUE

Aragorn was running full pelt up the hundreds of stairs in Isengard to the balcony. He would be to late he knew, he couldn't save Frodo, as he couldn't save him before. It was if a ray of light came in through the window and he heard Arwen's voice in his head.

"There is still hope." She said and Aragorn speeded up.

*** Merry and Pippin watched in horror as Frodo leaped from the balcony to almost certain death. They'd heard ghost stories as children about hangings, ones told in the firelight to scare young hobbits. They'd never thought they'd actually see one, especially Frodo's.

"FRODO!" Pippin cried out in a heart wrenching wail.

***

Legolas stared up at the small hobbit. He had seen Saruman put the rope around Frodo's neck and yet he had said nothing. He could have reached Frodo, he had years of elven training and heightened reflexes behind him, yet he had stood stone still whilst the young hobbit jumped to his death. He had done nothing to help Frodo when he had been captured, nothing to help Mithrandir and now nothing for Frodo again.

A tear slipped down his cheek. He was pathetic, but finally now he understood why Lord Elrond's wife had fled Middle Earth. He understood now how fully an elf could feel grief and pain. All the emotions that he had experienced came back to him threefold.

***

Aragorn reached the balcony and began pulling on the rope to bring Frodo back. He pulled the small hobbit over the edge and knelt over him, gasping for breath. He listened at his chest.if he was still alive at least, then everything would be alright. He heard a heartbeat, weak and slow, but it was still there. Aragorn almost danced in relief. So his neck hadn't broken on impact, which was a good start and he was still breathing.

He began a quick examination of the hobbit and what he found shocked him to the core. The small hobbit's once pale creamy skin was now almost completely covered in whip marks, lacerations and burns, some drawn in patterns and words in the black speech he guessed. He didn't even look at the area surrounding his neck.

He gathered the small hobbit into his arms and started down the stairs, meeting Legolas half way down.

"Does he live?"

"Yes, but barely nin mellon."

Legolas smiled. "As long as he breathes still, he has a chance." If there could be no hope for him, he would at least give hope for Aragorn.

***

Gandalf sat on a fallen boulder and smoked his pipe; the warm smoke felt good as it caressed it's way down his throat and reminded him of happier times. He had done everything he could for Frodo last night and now all he could do was wait and hope that Frodo had the will to pull through. He mourned that times had come to this, that the innocent were punished unmercifully, whilst the guilty escaped unharmed. Saruman was truly evil.

Aragorn approached with a pipe of his own and sat beside Gandalf. The friends said nothing, simply enjoying each other's presence.

"Arwen spoke to me last night as I was running up the stairs. She told me there was still hope."

Aragorn searched Gandalf's eyes, looking for that glimmer of hope that had not been there of late. He found it.

"Then indeed my friend, there is. Perhaps all it needs is a little encouragement. Go and find Merry and Pippin and bring them to Frodo."

Aragorn was completely confused.

***

Gandalf sat beside Frodo's bed and smoothed the young hobbit's hair from his eyes. They had laid him in one of the rooms in the gate house of Isengard on a bed of rushes to try and keep away the cold. Gandalf beckoned to Aragorn, who stood in the doorway and he ushered Merry and Pippin inside. The four sat around Frodo's bed in silence.

"He is fading." Gandalf said finally, voicing what everyone else was thinking.

Frodo was incredibly thin, by hobbit standards skeletal. His skin was almost white from the lack of light and his hair fell in matted bloody tangles around his face. The area surrounding his neck was torn and lacerated from rope burns, ugly purple bruises beginning to appear. Aragorn and Gandalf had also discovered curses burned into the young hobbit's chest and back written in the black speech, as well as numerous spiked whip marks. They had covered up these areas for the entry of the hobbits, not wanting to distress them more than finding out their cousin they buried nearly two months ago was actually alive.

"I have heard that before and it did not happen then. It shall not happen now." Aragorn reached forward and stroked the side of Frodo's face. "Frodo. Frodo, can you hear me? We are all here waiting for you."

Merry and Pippin followed Aragorn's lead and started talking to Frodo, telling him of all the adventures they had had since that fateful night.

***

Frodo stirred in his nightmare. The Nazgul were after him and he had to keep running, always running. He thought he heard Pippin's voice and twisted around. He spied a small camp, horses tied around the edge with several small lean-tos constructed near trees. There was a huge bonfire in the centre. Intrigued, Frodo moved towards the light of the fire and as he did so the nightmarish sounds of the Nazgul grew less in his mind. He listened for Pippin's voice again and heard it, combined with Merry's and Strider's. A deep voice joined in; it was Gandalf. He moved towards a huge stone tower and slipped inside.

All his friends were gathered around a small bed, whispering and talking to the figure lying there. Frodo wondered who it was and moved for a closer look. A feeling of recognition swam through his body and briefly he felt solid again, just for a moment. Gandalf carried on talking to the body, calling it Frodo. Why, he asked himself, he was Frodo and he was not on that bed.

Frodo looked closer at the hobbit on the bed. The figure looked remarkably similar to him really; it was extremely strange.

"We need you Frodo, we need you to come back to us. Don't leave us." Gandalf said.

But he was here and he didn't want to leave, Frodo yelled at the top of his lungs, but nobody seemed to hear. The figure on the bed convulsed and Frodo felt the convulsions as well. He crept onto the bed and moved until he was almost on top of the figure. Realisation came to Frodo like a blow to the head. The figure on the bed was Frodo and at the moment he was deserting his friends when they needed. He would not do it.

Frodo concentrated on his friends and the solid world, feeling his fear of the Nazgul slip away from him. He could feel his fingers he realised, he could feel.the pain of his bruises and torture hit him full in the face, but shocked him enough to make him take a deep breath and open his eyes. When he did, he was lying on the bed, looking up at his friends.

Merry and Pippin were all over him instantly, hugging him and kissing him with relief. Aragorn ruffled his hair and pulled them off him.

"How do you feel, Frodo?" Aragorn asked.

Frodo didn't know what to say. Where was the master? Frodo wasn't allowed to speak, the master had said that if he did, he would destroy the shire. Frodo said nothing.

Aragorn looked at Frodo, puzzled. Was it that he couldn't or wouldn't speak? He had treated as many of the hobbits injuries as he could last night, but had found none preventing speech. Could it be magic of some kind? He looked to Gandalf, but the old man shrugged his shoulders.

"Frodo, Saruman is gone. He can no longer harm you. Your are safe here, with us. We are your friends, we will not let anything happen to you." But they had, Aragorn thought, they had, he said with guilt in his eyes.

*** Frodo was confused. If the master had gone, then surely he was free, free in the way he had dreamed of for many meals. But the master had power and he would know if Frodo spoke and destroy the shire. He shook his head violently at Aragorn. The master was not gone, and he could still hurt him.

Aragorn decided to try a different tactic.

"Will you not speak because of something Saruman has done or will do?"

Frodo nodded.

"Has he said he will kill you if you speak?"

Frodo shook his head.

"Has he said he will kill somebody else if you speak?"

Frodo nodded hopefully.

Aragorn turned to Gandalf. "We made a deal for safe passage for Saruman on the condition that Frodo would live. He almost didn't keep up his end of the bargain, why should we keep ours."

Gandalf turned stern. "We shall keep ours because if all promises are broken between men, then there shall be no honour left in the world. We swore not to kill him and we shall not. However, if you decide to send a scout to track Saruman and ensure he does no harm, I shall not object."

Aragorn smiled, Gandalf was still as crafty as ever. He turned back to Frodo.

"Did you hear that Frodo? We will send someone after Saruman so that he cannot harm anyone. Does that make you feel better?"

Frodo nodded. Perhaps if the master could be made not to kill anyone, perhaps he could speak. Aragorn left the tent, followed by Gandalf, leaving the hobbits alone. For several minutes they just sat in silence, but Pippin being the hobbit he was, could not resist thinking about food.

"Are you hungry Frodo?" He asked gently.

Frodo wasn't sure what to say, but when Aragorn re-entered the tent with a bowl of steaming stew, his stomach decided for him. When Aragorn gave him the bowl, Frodo looked cautiously around then talk a small sip. It seemed wonderful compared to the bare rations he'd had previously and finished the bowl even before Pippin could finish his.

Feeling rather drowsy, Frodo began to drift off to sleep.

****** There you are, as always I bow to the wishes of my reviewers. I have performed the impossible and Frodo is now amoung the living again - for now. Rest assured, I will try my hardest to kill him again, so beware!!!!