CHAPTER 2

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw Frodo pitch forward, a sharp cry forced from him as he hit the granite floor. Seeing his master in pain spurred Sam to action faster than any wizard's instruction. He reached down, intending to help Frodo up but his friend was not there. In alarm he looked about and, to his horror, saw his master being dragged backwards on his belly towards the gates. Frodo was desperately scrabbling at the floor, trying to find some purchase to slow or prevent his movement but his actions only succeeded in leaving tracks in the dust that lay thickly upon the still smooth floor. In the faint glimmer of moonlight slipping through the door Sam could just make out the shape of a pale hand wrapped about Frodo's ankle, attached to a long, pale green and luminous tentacle that snaked out of the noisome mere.

"I'm coming, Frodo!" yelled Sam, as he drew his sword and ran towards his master, who had crossed the threshold and was being dragged, inexorably, towards the now turbulent water.

"Sam. Help me!"

Running with a speed he did not know he possessed, Sam reached his friend's side and began to stab and hack at the vile, slimy tentacle that clutched the slender ankle so tightly.

It was Sam's cry that galvanised the rest of the party. Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn quickly caught up with the two struggling hobbits. With a mighty swing, Aragorn brought his sword down, inches from Frodo's heel, slicing cleanly through the fleshy cord that bound him. Sam dragged a gasping and trembling Frodo to his feet. The party was about to turn and flee when the water before them erupted like a giant geyser and dozens more tentacles shot forward, slapping all but Frodo to the ground. The Ringbearer had not even time to draw breath for a scream before a thick cord whipped about his chest and squeezed hard, hoisting him high into the air above the seething cauldron of black waves.

Elven reflexes brought Legolas to his senses first. Even before he was upright he had drawn and nocked his bow, letting fly an arrow as soon as he had his feet under him. It buried itself deep into the tentacle that held Frodo aloft and a loud howl erupted from somewhere in the darkness. Frodo felt himself falling but before he reached the water another tentacle snatched his leg and he screamed in agony as his entire body weight swung suddenly from one slim ankle. Then he was yanked aloft once more and further out towards the centre of the lake . . . away from his companions.

Boromir and Aragorn waded into the slimy water, hacking at the limb that held their companion. It was finally sliced through and Frodo felt himself falling again, this time splashing hard into the murky water. He sank beneath its stinking surface, the shock of entry making him gasp in a large lungful of the vile liquid. His body coiled reflexively about the piercing agony in his chest and he was unaware of Boromir's large hand grasping his cloak and hauling him out of the slime, lifting the hobbit effortlessly in strong arms and wading swiftly to the shore.

Aragorn and Gimli were still slicing and hacking at tentacles, which had now switched their attack to the son of the Steward. Just on the edge of mortal sight, Aragorn could see a large mound beginning to surface, far out in the lake.

"Legolas. There." He pointed swiftly then spun to hew at a particularly determined coil and hoped that the elf had seen the direction of his wave. Legolas' had indeed caught the direction of his gesture and his keen clear gaze marked more than the mortal. The bulk rising from the waters had two huge crimson eyes. He took aim and let fly. The arrow disappeared into one red orb and the valley resounded to the creature's agonised howl.

Boromir reached the shore and continued on into Moria, trusting the others to watch his back, Frodo's limp and silent form held tightly against his chest. Aragorn followed, scooping up a breathless Sam; elf and dwarf brought up the rear, herding the terrified Merry and Pippin before them. Gandalf called them deeper inside, just in time.

In a last fit of pain and frustration, the creature in the lake threw forth all its remaining limbs, its coils grasping at the stone lintel above the huge doors. With a mighty heave it wrested it loose and several tons of rock crashed down, pulling the doors down with them and blocking out the moonlight. When the last stone rolled to a stop the only sounds to be heard were the choking coughs and heaving breaths of the Fellowship. With no moonlight coming through the doors, the blackness was a solid thing that wrapped them round like some cloyingly tight blanket.

Suddenly there was the sound of wood tapping stone and several gasps of alarm as an incandescent blue light flared. Gandalf stood in the centre of the group, the tip of his staff glowing brightly and pushing back the dark. Merry let out his breath in a sigh of relief. They still could not see far through the settling dust, but he felt better within the circle of light provided by the wizard.

Sam's keening voice was the first to break the breathy silence.

"Oh no. Mr Frodo…"

The Ringbearer lay draped like some child's rag doll over Boromir's solid arms and no movement stirred the sodden clothes that clung to his small chest. Beneath the layer of slimy water his skin was grey. Gandalf's hastily outstretched hand detected no feather of warm air issuing from between the blue tinged lips.

"Aragorn?" The wizard deferred to Elrond's foster son, who sheathed his sword swiftly and stepped to Boromir's side. Merry slipped an arm about Pippin's shoulder as the younger hobbit began to sob quietly. Touching fingers to Frodo's neck, Aragorn stilled himself to feel any pulse, however faint; a light flutter beneath his fingertips making him release a breath held too long.

"Set him on his stomach on the floor. Quickly!"

Boromir's warrior reflexes brought him to his knees instantly, flipping his tiny charge over and settling him carefully on the dust coated stone before him. Aragorn caught Frodo's head before it could come in contact with the hard granite and turned the hobbit's face to one side, tilting it back and slipping a finger into the mouth. He grimaced as he hooked out a small wad of slime covered weed and flung it away to land with a faint wet slap in the darkness beyond them.

Drawing Frodo's arms up and folding his hands beneath the cooling cheek, Aragorn knelt beyond his patient's head. Careful not to press too hard on the child sized form, the Ranger ran his hands down either side of Frodo's back, pressing lightly at his waist, then back up, grasping the hobbit's upper arms and stretching them gently towards his knees. On the third repeat of this motion Aragorn was rewarded by the sound of a soft sigh from Frodo. He had taken a first breath. One more and the Ringbearer erupted into a fit of deep coughing, a small puddle of dark liquid spilling from his mouth as his lungs fought to replace the foul lake water with life giving air.

Aragorn rubbed Frodo's back in light circles and waited for the cough to subside. "Sam, find me a dry blanket, please."

The gardener rushed to comply, his fingers fumbling at the ties on his pack in his haste. He finally managed to free his blanket and thrust it at Strider, who draped it over Boromir's outstretched arms and then lifted Frodo into it, wrapping him closely in the confining warmth. They would need to remove the hobbit's sodden clothing soon, but for the moment he settled for the extra layer of warmth from the blanket. Boromir cradled the tiny cocooned form against the warmth of his body, careful to allow room for the rise and fall of the labouring chest. He had seen enough battle injuries to know that the greatest enemy now was cold, which sapped the body's strength to heal itself. At least in Boromir's arms Frodo would be away from the cold stone that would sap further warmth from his body.

Pippin still sobbed within the protective circle of his cousin's arm and hot tears flowed silently down Merry's face too. Neither spared the time to take their eyes from the gasping form of their relative long enough to find a hanky. Gimli brought a comforting hand down upon Merry's shoulder.

"Where there is breath there is hope. Gandalf tells me he endured greater hardship than this on the way to Rivendell. Do not give up on him," offered the dwarf gruffly.

Pippin sniffed and drew himself up and Merry ran his sleeve across his face. "You're right, Gimli. And this is no time to give in. Frodo needs us."

At the edge of the group Legolas stood facing silently into the darkness. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be straining to listen. Gandalf stepped to his side, the light from his staff causing shadows to dance dizzyingly upon the walls.

"What do you sense?" the wizard enquired.

Legolas shook his head and turned worried green eyes to his companion. "I sense nothing and that worries me."

"How so? Surely sensing no evil is a good thing."

"It is not an absence of something that I feel . . . but rather a dampening of my senses. It is as though I am pressed upon by walls on all sides and am unable to see beyond them. Something waits here that does not wish to be heard."

The wizard nodded. "Orcs, perhaps. Sauron has given them many abilities over the years. Mayhap this is a new one. If we tread carefully we may still cross to the other side without being detected. We must at least try."

A little exclamation from Sam cut off any reply Legolas was about to make, and the two turned to rejoin the party gathered around the Ringbearer.

It was the sight of Frodo cracking open blue eyes that had made Sam cry out in relief. Blinking the world back into focus took a few moments, but Frodo eventually found himself staring up into Boromir's concerned features and a faint note of alarm nagged at the corner of his mind. A light touch at his neck made him turn his head however, and there he found Aragorn and the rest of his companions. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a croak; furthermore the action set off a violent cough, sending lancing pain through his chest. Frodo wrapped his arms about his body and tried to curl up within Boromir's embrace. Someone placed a cloth over his mouth and Frodo spat out the vile tasting fluid that came up from his lungs.

Gandalf drew Gimli to one side. "We need to find somewhere to rest for a while. Preferably somewhere easy to defend and with fresh water. We could also do with a fire to warm Frodo." He sighed in resignation. "But I fear that would announce our presence to any enemies about."

The dwarf nodded, glancing back at the bundle of blanket in Boromir's arms, Frodo's shivering visible even from this distance. "It is usual to have a guard room near the gates. That would have all the attributes you seek and may even be able to furnish a fireplace with a chimney venting to the outside wall. Of course, whether you will find anything to make a fire is another matter."

Gandalf clapped him on the shoulder. "If you would but find us the room and water, that will suffice."

Gimli looked about them. "Somewhere by the gates I saw some torches set in the wall. If they have not been buried in the rubble I could fetch one and go exploring, leaving you to provide light for our friends." He struck off into the gloom letting his dwarven sense of direction underground guide him. Sure enough a few moments later the Fellowship were surprised to see a warm yellow flame kindle, and Gimli returned, bearing a torch.

"The guard post would probably be off to our right. I shall return shortly." Without waiting for comment, Gimli strode off into the darkness, the glow from his torch suddenly disappearing as he turned a corner.

Frodo uncurled a little as he managed to bring the coughing under control. He was beginning to feel very cold and could not suppress a deeper shudder at a chill draft blowing in from the maw of a nearby doorway. Aragorn and Boromir noticed it at once.

"We must get him out of these wet clothes as soon as possible," the Steward's son stated, almost challengingly, to Aragorn. He had argued against this frail creature carrying the Ring from the first and now he felt his fears justified. As if in negation, Frodo tried to pull the blanket closer. He was shivering with cold and his chest felt as though it had been scoured from the inside, each breath an agony of fiery pain. He couldn't seem to get rid of the feeling of dizziness, and his limbs felt so heavy.

The thought of being asked to undress offered only the prospect of using more energy than he felt he could summon, not to mention the revelation of what he wore beneath his shirt. Desperately seeking more warmth he curled tighter and leaned in a little closer to the heat of Boromir's chest, faintly aware of the sound of the big man's heartbeat. Leaden eyelids slid shut and the voices drifted away.

Sam was crouched at Boromir's side, not at all happy at the idea of this man so close to his master and the Ring.

"Won't he be colder without them? We've had to leave all the spare clothes behind, although I think he may have a clean shirt at the bottom of his pack." He began to pick at the fastenings on Frodo's small pack, but Strider hunkered down and stopped him.

"We can wrap him in blankets for the moment. The water has chilled him so deeply that his body cannot dry the clothes he is wearing; they are only cooling him further. We must get him out of them as soon as possible and try to warm him." He touched Sam's arm in comfort. "Collect the blankets from everyone's packs and bring them to me. In the meantime, Boromir and I will undress him."

Sam rose, casting one last look at his master. He would much rather he had familiar hands undressing him but Aragorn at least he trusted and Sam had to acknowledge that he had not the strength to hold Frodo clear of the cold stone as Boromir did now. "He looks so pale. Will he be alright?"

Aragorn looked across at the little hobbit's face, their eyes level for once. "I will not lie to you, Sam. He is in grave danger. Most people fight off an incident like this quite well but, if I remember correctly, Bilbo said that he had a rather bad illness when he was younger and that may have weakened his lungs." He glanced down at the pale face. "And that water did not look too healthy. He has a strong spirit, though. He proved that on the road to Rivendell."

"Thank you, Strider…for being honest." The little hobbit turned towards Merry's pack and began to unfasten the blanket rolled atop it. Pushing aside the feeling that he had just passed some sort of test, the Ranger turned back to his charge.

"Frodo? Frodo? Don't go to sleep. You must not go to sleep yet." Aragorn's voice, surprisingly soft, was accompanied by a gentle shaking of his shoulder. Frodo pushed open reluctant eyelids and found he was still cradled in Boromir's arms, lying in his lap as the warrior sat, cross-legged, on the cold floor.

"We must get you out of those wet clothes. I have dry blankets for you. Then you can rest a little." As he spoke, Boromir helped the Ranger unwrap the tiny hobbit. Frodo's shivering increased as the blanket was removed and fingers began pulling at the fastenings of his cloak and jacket. He had not the energy to help or resist (even when they found the mail shirt) and simply allowed them to peel off his sodden clothing. For their part, his helpers did not ask for his assistance, simply working efficiently together to divest him of his cold and soggy outfit as quickly as possible.

When they reached the mithril-shirt, both men paused. Polished silver rings glimmered like a thousand fish scales in the glow of Gandalf's staff, the jewels at its collar scattering the light into a shower of delicate rainbows. There was not time to study it too closely, however, for Frodo was now shaking violently and within moments Aragorn was stuffing it into Frodo's pack, pushing it down to the bottom, out of sight. Finally the hobbit lay, naked but for the ring that hung on its chain above his bruised chest. Boromir sat, transfixed by the soft golden glow of the circlet. Just as his hand was about to reach out, Aragorn pushed the chain aside and laid his own hands on Frodo's ribs.

Although there was plenty of bruising he found no broken bones. One ankle was badly swollen and red, but gentle manipulation and pressure revealed no breaks there, either. Aragorn bent his head to Frodo's small chest and listened. With each quick shallow breath there was an unnatural gurgle, announcing clearly that not all the viscous lake fluid had been expelled from the hobbit's lungs. It was this that worried him most as he looked up, Legolas handing him a dry blanket. Sam set the rest of the Fellowships blankets in a small heap before him.

Aragorn vigorously rubbed Frodo dry, eliciting a few small cries of protest from his charge, then he and Boromir wrapped him in almost every covering the Fellowship possessed. By the time they had finished, only the Ringbearer's eyes were still visible, a fold of blanket even brought up to cover his damp hair. Had he not still been shivering violently, Frodo would have slept at once for he felt quite exhausted, but every time he closed his eyes and felt himself drifting a shudder would wrack his frame and he would start awake once more.

Setting his staff in the crook of his arm the Wizard reached out. "Give him to me." Gandalf's gruff and friendly voice penetrated Frodo's misery and he felt himself being raised and then settled in new arms. There was a comforting smell of pipe weed and the soft scratch of wool against his forehead as his head lolled helplessly against a new body. The Ringbearer opened his eyes and was greeted with a vast field of grey wool that was the wizard's chest. A large hand rested lightly on his brow and a wave of warmth spread outward from it, washing through his body. Tightly clenched muscles relaxed and Frodo melted into Gandalf's comforting embrace with a soft sigh, closing his eyes once more and letting the world drift past him.

Merry looked up from wringing out Frodo's clothes as a glimmer of torchlight announced Gimli's return. The dwarf was smiling broadly as he approached Gandalf, but his face fell when he saw the bundle held tenderly in the wizard's arms. The little of Frodo's face that was visible was deathly pale, and each rapid and broken inhalation could be clearly heard.

"I have found the guard post. The passageway goes off to the left, and then there is a short stair and a narrow hallway, which opens up into a wide room. In the centre of the floor is a well and a fireplace has been built on the outer wall. There are even some pieces of broken furniture that we can burn to make a fire." He lowered his voice so that only Gandalf could hear. "There is also another exit, which leads to a large hall with several other doorways, so we have an escape route if we are attacked."

Gandalf wasted no time. "Come along, everybody. This way. Gimli has found us a place to rest, for a little while." Shifting Frodo into the crook of one arm, he took his staff in the other hand and led the way from the exposed hall.

Legolas turned from his uneasy inspection of the darkness and Aragorn followed close on Gandalf's heels. The hobbits collected Frodo's clothes and pack and Boromir brought up the rear, turning occasionally to check behind them. Gimli took up position in the middle of the group, his torch held high. The flickering light threw into relief what would once have been beautiful and delicate carvings on the walls and doorpost, but years of vandalism had left very little intact.

Legolas paused occasionally to let his long slender fingers trace the outline of a flower or leaf and Boromir noted the taut mask of his face and hesitant step. His captain's mind assessed what he saw. Would they be able to rely on the elf if there was a need to fight? The Steward's son had little experience of elves, his brief sojourn at Rivendell his first real contact.

This one looked younger than most . . . and yet he had been told that Legolas had lived thousands of years. Would his present obvious discomfort hamper him, or would his warrior training overcome when put to the test? Boromir decided to keep one eye open for any cracks in the brittle facade; yet another thing for him to worry about . . . and wondered whether Isildur's heir had yet noticed this potential problem.

TBC