Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews - they mean a great deal,
and I'm delighted that so many of you are enjoying this piece! :) The
chapters continue in alternating viewpoint; this is one of my shorter
pieces, but one of my favourites. Thank you for following it. :D -FBoBE
Title: Cold (2/5)
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd)
E-mail: frodoatbagend@yahoo.com
Characters: Frodo, Sam, Faramir, others
Rating: PG (A bit dark, no profanity, no sex, non-slash)
SPOILERS ALERT: if you wish to avoid them, save this story till *after* you've seen the film.
Summary: Frodo's encounter with one of the Nine in Osgiliath proves ill for him, and Sam and Faramir find themselves working together in spite of themselves.
Feedback: Welcomed. Constructive only, please. . .no flaming.
Story Notes: Movieverse-based , though this then turns and deviates from the movie. Yes, I prefer book canon over the movie, but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the movie or the plot bunnies. ;)
Dedicated to Baranduin and Claudia.
DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom.
COLD
Chapter Two: Frodo
Iced-water.
I felt as if I had been flung into a pool of it and left, pulled out only seconds before freezing.
And the comfort. . .the exquisite, ever-increasing warmth. . .it had gone when Sam shoved me to the stones, knocking the breath from my body for half a moment.
Someone, though. . .someone. . .warm hands. . . .
But I needed to get back to the balcony.
If I put It on, I would feel better. That was it. Just for a few minutes. . .just long enough to get warm, to feel better. . .
No.
No, it was a trap.
But so were the warm hands. They had to be; they were too big and too smooth to be Sam's.
Captain Faramir. Or one of his men, perhaps.
At once I struggled, elbowing the big chest sharply in the centre, afraid to kick in case I succeeded in this first effort and suddenly found myself dropped by the arms which carried me: I would need both feet to land, after all. There was a catch in breathing, and a short groan, but no freedom. . .in fact, the big arms clutched me more tightly, effectively immobilising my arms. . .and, unfortunately, my legs.
"My, but you can be spirited, can't you?"
The tone sounded faintly amused, which thoroughly irritated me. I felt soaked through and chilled to the marrow, and my entire body ached from too much contact with the stones, and too long of forced marching in blindfolds, for our guides - if guides they could be called - merely kept us in the proper direction. . .they did not warn us of stones or uneven ground that, while not necessarily dangerous, could be painful at times, particularly when a hobbit foot, tough sole and all, landed firmly upon it. I was in no mood for teasing, and at once I opened my eyes.
To my astonishment, I was. . .in some sort of cave, but not the rough one we had been taken to at first: this seemed to be still in Osgiliath, for I could hear the clamour above, and the stone walls looked to be of the same make as above. Smeagol was in a far corner, closely guarded by three men. Sam was nowhere in sight, but I could hear his voice, and he did not seem to be in imminent danger, though from his conversation I gathered it could well have gone otherwise.
"Now this'll take just a moment. . .what I wouldn't give for some o'that stuff Strider set such store by, though I don't think it works right for nobody but him and Lord Elrond. . . ."
And I. . .
Where *was* I?
Not far from Sam's muttering, but. . .Faramir had me, carrying me with firm grasp. Yet, surprisingly, he suddenly knelt, easing me down. . .and I felt something soft beneath my back and limbs.
A bed.
It was a bed. . .low, but not uncomfortable, and beyond all praise to me at the moment. To my amazement, Faramir put a pillow beneath my head and pulled blankets over me, calling to his men for heated stones, which he set around me as they were brought, each smooth rock wrapped in a blanket or knitted cloth.
"You are ill. I cannot allow you to leave my keeping in such condition. If you will allow me, I can try to help, though I am no healer, and no doubt less comforting than your original companions. . .but I would try, at least."
He tucked yet another warming-stone in beside me, tucking the covers up to my chin. . .not tightly enough to immobilise my limbs or impair breathing, much as Aragorn had.
"It will, however, help considerably if you do not try to escape, or to strike me."
Leaning forward, he lowered his voice.
"I will see to it, if you lie quietly and allow me to give what care I can, and allow your servant to tend you as he will, that the two of you. . .and your "guide". . .are returned to the wild to continue your journey. If you insist upon trying to escape, exposing yourself and this hideaway to danger, I shall have no choice apart from binding your hands and feet."
I contemplated this for a moment. I did not like it at all. . .but I had little strength to waste in either arguing or attempting to stand, much less finding a way out.
And the bed really *was* growing warm enough that I could sense it, despite the continued chill.
He waited.
"I will do my best. I believe you."
A hint of. . .a smile?. . .brought up the corners of his lips, though the expression was fleeting, and he looked sadly away for a moment, watching Sam prepare something in one of our mugs.
"We have little provision for properly feeding and nursing the seriously ill, but we will help you as we can."
I nodded. . .and could say no more, feeling the chill fold in around me again if to suffocate me. Dark wings seemed to close over me as I fell back into ice and the sharp, jagged edges of pain.
~to be continued~
Title: Cold (2/5)
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd)
E-mail: frodoatbagend@yahoo.com
Characters: Frodo, Sam, Faramir, others
Rating: PG (A bit dark, no profanity, no sex, non-slash)
SPOILERS ALERT: if you wish to avoid them, save this story till *after* you've seen the film.
Summary: Frodo's encounter with one of the Nine in Osgiliath proves ill for him, and Sam and Faramir find themselves working together in spite of themselves.
Feedback: Welcomed. Constructive only, please. . .no flaming.
Story Notes: Movieverse-based , though this then turns and deviates from the movie. Yes, I prefer book canon over the movie, but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the movie or the plot bunnies. ;)
Dedicated to Baranduin and Claudia.
DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom.
COLD
Chapter Two: Frodo
Iced-water.
I felt as if I had been flung into a pool of it and left, pulled out only seconds before freezing.
And the comfort. . .the exquisite, ever-increasing warmth. . .it had gone when Sam shoved me to the stones, knocking the breath from my body for half a moment.
Someone, though. . .someone. . .warm hands. . . .
But I needed to get back to the balcony.
If I put It on, I would feel better. That was it. Just for a few minutes. . .just long enough to get warm, to feel better. . .
No.
No, it was a trap.
But so were the warm hands. They had to be; they were too big and too smooth to be Sam's.
Captain Faramir. Or one of his men, perhaps.
At once I struggled, elbowing the big chest sharply in the centre, afraid to kick in case I succeeded in this first effort and suddenly found myself dropped by the arms which carried me: I would need both feet to land, after all. There was a catch in breathing, and a short groan, but no freedom. . .in fact, the big arms clutched me more tightly, effectively immobilising my arms. . .and, unfortunately, my legs.
"My, but you can be spirited, can't you?"
The tone sounded faintly amused, which thoroughly irritated me. I felt soaked through and chilled to the marrow, and my entire body ached from too much contact with the stones, and too long of forced marching in blindfolds, for our guides - if guides they could be called - merely kept us in the proper direction. . .they did not warn us of stones or uneven ground that, while not necessarily dangerous, could be painful at times, particularly when a hobbit foot, tough sole and all, landed firmly upon it. I was in no mood for teasing, and at once I opened my eyes.
To my astonishment, I was. . .in some sort of cave, but not the rough one we had been taken to at first: this seemed to be still in Osgiliath, for I could hear the clamour above, and the stone walls looked to be of the same make as above. Smeagol was in a far corner, closely guarded by three men. Sam was nowhere in sight, but I could hear his voice, and he did not seem to be in imminent danger, though from his conversation I gathered it could well have gone otherwise.
"Now this'll take just a moment. . .what I wouldn't give for some o'that stuff Strider set such store by, though I don't think it works right for nobody but him and Lord Elrond. . . ."
And I. . .
Where *was* I?
Not far from Sam's muttering, but. . .Faramir had me, carrying me with firm grasp. Yet, surprisingly, he suddenly knelt, easing me down. . .and I felt something soft beneath my back and limbs.
A bed.
It was a bed. . .low, but not uncomfortable, and beyond all praise to me at the moment. To my amazement, Faramir put a pillow beneath my head and pulled blankets over me, calling to his men for heated stones, which he set around me as they were brought, each smooth rock wrapped in a blanket or knitted cloth.
"You are ill. I cannot allow you to leave my keeping in such condition. If you will allow me, I can try to help, though I am no healer, and no doubt less comforting than your original companions. . .but I would try, at least."
He tucked yet another warming-stone in beside me, tucking the covers up to my chin. . .not tightly enough to immobilise my limbs or impair breathing, much as Aragorn had.
"It will, however, help considerably if you do not try to escape, or to strike me."
Leaning forward, he lowered his voice.
"I will see to it, if you lie quietly and allow me to give what care I can, and allow your servant to tend you as he will, that the two of you. . .and your "guide". . .are returned to the wild to continue your journey. If you insist upon trying to escape, exposing yourself and this hideaway to danger, I shall have no choice apart from binding your hands and feet."
I contemplated this for a moment. I did not like it at all. . .but I had little strength to waste in either arguing or attempting to stand, much less finding a way out.
And the bed really *was* growing warm enough that I could sense it, despite the continued chill.
He waited.
"I will do my best. I believe you."
A hint of. . .a smile?. . .brought up the corners of his lips, though the expression was fleeting, and he looked sadly away for a moment, watching Sam prepare something in one of our mugs.
"We have little provision for properly feeding and nursing the seriously ill, but we will help you as we can."
I nodded. . .and could say no more, feeling the chill fold in around me again if to suffocate me. Dark wings seemed to close over me as I fell back into ice and the sharp, jagged edges of pain.
~to be continued~