Learning to Stand Again
Rating: PG
Summary: While recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, post-quest.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.
Warnings: This chapter and future chapters may contain references to wee hobbit sickness, injury, treatment of said sickness and injury, as well as references to wee hobbit bodily functions. I will be sure to up the rating if I include anything seriously graphic, but, for the most part, it shouldn't be of an extremely graphic nature.
A/N: Thanks goes out to Febobe for giving me a great idea of how to make Frodo suffer. Love ya, dear!
Chapter 2:
When consciousness crept slowly back into Frodo's mind, he was pleased to take note of how comfortable he felt. The pillows around his head were fluffed and soft. The quilts around him were thick and warm. The bed seemed to cradle his body. Taking a deep breath, he reveled in the morning air he could feel drifting in through a nearby window. He felt so calm, so relaxed. There was no pain, no headaches, and no aches of any kind. He felt.practically nothing.
Frodo felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured onto the bed. He came back to reality suddenly and sat upright, or he would have set upright if not for the terrible pain in his back and the lack of response from his legs. He couldn't hold back a whimper.
"Just lie still, Frodo, or you'll only make your injuries worse," Aragorn's face swam into view above him, looking tired and grief-stricken.
"Aragorn? What happened? I remember falling down the stairs, and Faramir was there."
"Faramir brought you here to the Healing House and sent word to me of your accident. Frodo, I'm sorry that I insisted that you be present yesterday. If you hadn't, this would never have happened. I see now that I've been wearing you out, when you haven't yet recovered from the wounds and memories of your journey. Please forgive me," Aragorn knelt by his bedside, taking Frodo's mangled right hand into his own. Frodo could see Aragorn's eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
He swallowed back tears of his own before speaking, "It is all right, Aragorn. It's not your fault. I should have asked for help, but my pride prevented me from coming to you or anyone else because I wanted you to stop fussing over me. I'm sorry for being such a burden to you." "Oh Frodo, you're not a burden to me at all," Aragorn smiled, the tears now running freely down his face. Frodo looked up at him and suddenly his vision changed.
Instead of Strider, the rugged and mysterious man he had met in Bree, he saw Aragorn as the King of Gondor. His robes seemed to glow with an ethereal light, not like the Elves, but something else. The tears that streamed down his face caught the sunlight gleaming through the window and glittered like diamonds. In his eyes, Frodo saw a love and compassion that was undying and unconditional.
It was as though Strider, like Gandalf the Gray, had died, and here he was resurrected as Aragorn, the King of Gondor as Gandalf had been sent back as Gandalf the White. Aragorn reached up to wipe tears from Frodo's cheeks, tears he hadn't been aware of, sliding down his face as he marveled at Aragorn's transformation from a man into a king.
And then the moment was over. Frodo leaned back into the pillows, sniffling quietly while he tried to assess the damage done when he had fallen down the stairs. Aragorn stood up and looked at him for a moment before crossing the room and going through with some jars on the far table.
Frodo experimentally tried moving one of his numb legs. It seemed to twitch, but didn't move. The fact that his legs now felt numb instead of feeling nothing at all was an improvement from when he had first awoken.
Aragorn returned to the bedside, "Here, I have a tonic for you to drink, Frodo. This will help with the pain in your back. I need you to drink it, and then I'm going to have another look at you."
Frodo complied wearily, allowing Aragorn to tip the contents of the cup into his mouth. It had a bitter-sweet taste, not as bad as most of the medicines Aragorn fixed for him. Within moments he seemed to feel more relaxed; it was almost as though he were floating on a cloud. He felt so detached from his body that he was barely aware of Aragorn's fingers running through his hair as he spoke, "Alright, Frodo. Now I'm going to have to roll you over so I can have a look at your back. How are you feeling? Faramir said you were unwell after the party."
Aragorn pulled the covers back and gently slipped an arm under Frodo to brace his back. Frodo then became aware that a bandage and cloth were wrapped very tightly around his abdomen. There was a bit of pain in his back as Aragorn turned him over to lie on his stomach, but Frodo was feeling so blissfully high that he didn't really care.
"I'm feeling alright now," Frodo replied, his voice seeming to come from another person in the room rather than from his own mouth. It felt like Aragorn was dragging a cloth back and forth across his back. A moment later, Aragorn pulled the bandage away, and Frodo noticed that Aragorn's arm was underneath him, supporting his body.
"I'm not feeling much to tell you the truth."
"You mean you're not feeling any pain?" Aragorn crossed the room and retrieved a small bottle containing some kind of salve.
"I don't feel anything really." Frodo's voice faltered. He felt as though he were in a dream. Yes, that must be it. That would explain why his body wasn't responding to his commands. When he woke up, everything would work just fine.
Now Aragorn was rubbing something on his back. It was cold at first, but gradually warmed up under his fingers. Frodo tried to stay quiet as a sharp pain throbbed in his back every time Aragorn ran his fingers over one spot. The salve felt good, but a prickling sensation remained. Had he hurt his back when he fell? Aragorn was speaking again.
".and it looks like it might be fractured; it's bruised and swollen right here," Aragorn punctuated this statement by lightly brushing a point on Frodo's back.
The affects of the medicine Aragorn had administered to him were starting to wear off. The dreamlike state was diminishing, and Frodo realized that he could move most of his body after all. His legs were mostly unresponsive, but he could feel them twitch slightly.
"My legs.I can't really move them," Frodo craned his neck to look up at Aragorn who was starting to redress the wound on his back.
Aragorn looked up sharply.
"You can't move them at all?" he asked anxiously.
"Mm, there is some feeling in them. Just a little, but they don't want to move," Frodo tried to wiggle them, but the effort was a bit tiring, so he stopped.
Aragorn stroked Frodo's hair gently, "If you have some feeling in them, you should be alright, but we'll have to be careful just the same. You won't be able to get out of this bed or sit up until I am completely satisfied that you're healed. You really should restrain your movement. We don't want you doing any further damage. Are you still feeling alright? You feel a bit feverish."
Frodo sighed, "I'm tired. I wish to rest now."
Aragorn kissed the top of his head gently, "Let me finish putting this bandage on and you can."
Moments later, Frodo felt himself slipping off into a troubled sleep in which he was continuously dragging himself up a mountain face, his legs refusing to move. Above him, the Nazgul cried.
TBC
Rating: PG
Summary: While recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, post-quest.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.
Warnings: This chapter and future chapters may contain references to wee hobbit sickness, injury, treatment of said sickness and injury, as well as references to wee hobbit bodily functions. I will be sure to up the rating if I include anything seriously graphic, but, for the most part, it shouldn't be of an extremely graphic nature.
A/N: Thanks goes out to Febobe for giving me a great idea of how to make Frodo suffer. Love ya, dear!
Chapter 2:
When consciousness crept slowly back into Frodo's mind, he was pleased to take note of how comfortable he felt. The pillows around his head were fluffed and soft. The quilts around him were thick and warm. The bed seemed to cradle his body. Taking a deep breath, he reveled in the morning air he could feel drifting in through a nearby window. He felt so calm, so relaxed. There was no pain, no headaches, and no aches of any kind. He felt.practically nothing.
Frodo felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured onto the bed. He came back to reality suddenly and sat upright, or he would have set upright if not for the terrible pain in his back and the lack of response from his legs. He couldn't hold back a whimper.
"Just lie still, Frodo, or you'll only make your injuries worse," Aragorn's face swam into view above him, looking tired and grief-stricken.
"Aragorn? What happened? I remember falling down the stairs, and Faramir was there."
"Faramir brought you here to the Healing House and sent word to me of your accident. Frodo, I'm sorry that I insisted that you be present yesterday. If you hadn't, this would never have happened. I see now that I've been wearing you out, when you haven't yet recovered from the wounds and memories of your journey. Please forgive me," Aragorn knelt by his bedside, taking Frodo's mangled right hand into his own. Frodo could see Aragorn's eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
He swallowed back tears of his own before speaking, "It is all right, Aragorn. It's not your fault. I should have asked for help, but my pride prevented me from coming to you or anyone else because I wanted you to stop fussing over me. I'm sorry for being such a burden to you." "Oh Frodo, you're not a burden to me at all," Aragorn smiled, the tears now running freely down his face. Frodo looked up at him and suddenly his vision changed.
Instead of Strider, the rugged and mysterious man he had met in Bree, he saw Aragorn as the King of Gondor. His robes seemed to glow with an ethereal light, not like the Elves, but something else. The tears that streamed down his face caught the sunlight gleaming through the window and glittered like diamonds. In his eyes, Frodo saw a love and compassion that was undying and unconditional.
It was as though Strider, like Gandalf the Gray, had died, and here he was resurrected as Aragorn, the King of Gondor as Gandalf had been sent back as Gandalf the White. Aragorn reached up to wipe tears from Frodo's cheeks, tears he hadn't been aware of, sliding down his face as he marveled at Aragorn's transformation from a man into a king.
And then the moment was over. Frodo leaned back into the pillows, sniffling quietly while he tried to assess the damage done when he had fallen down the stairs. Aragorn stood up and looked at him for a moment before crossing the room and going through with some jars on the far table.
Frodo experimentally tried moving one of his numb legs. It seemed to twitch, but didn't move. The fact that his legs now felt numb instead of feeling nothing at all was an improvement from when he had first awoken.
Aragorn returned to the bedside, "Here, I have a tonic for you to drink, Frodo. This will help with the pain in your back. I need you to drink it, and then I'm going to have another look at you."
Frodo complied wearily, allowing Aragorn to tip the contents of the cup into his mouth. It had a bitter-sweet taste, not as bad as most of the medicines Aragorn fixed for him. Within moments he seemed to feel more relaxed; it was almost as though he were floating on a cloud. He felt so detached from his body that he was barely aware of Aragorn's fingers running through his hair as he spoke, "Alright, Frodo. Now I'm going to have to roll you over so I can have a look at your back. How are you feeling? Faramir said you were unwell after the party."
Aragorn pulled the covers back and gently slipped an arm under Frodo to brace his back. Frodo then became aware that a bandage and cloth were wrapped very tightly around his abdomen. There was a bit of pain in his back as Aragorn turned him over to lie on his stomach, but Frodo was feeling so blissfully high that he didn't really care.
"I'm feeling alright now," Frodo replied, his voice seeming to come from another person in the room rather than from his own mouth. It felt like Aragorn was dragging a cloth back and forth across his back. A moment later, Aragorn pulled the bandage away, and Frodo noticed that Aragorn's arm was underneath him, supporting his body.
"I'm not feeling much to tell you the truth."
"You mean you're not feeling any pain?" Aragorn crossed the room and retrieved a small bottle containing some kind of salve.
"I don't feel anything really." Frodo's voice faltered. He felt as though he were in a dream. Yes, that must be it. That would explain why his body wasn't responding to his commands. When he woke up, everything would work just fine.
Now Aragorn was rubbing something on his back. It was cold at first, but gradually warmed up under his fingers. Frodo tried to stay quiet as a sharp pain throbbed in his back every time Aragorn ran his fingers over one spot. The salve felt good, but a prickling sensation remained. Had he hurt his back when he fell? Aragorn was speaking again.
".and it looks like it might be fractured; it's bruised and swollen right here," Aragorn punctuated this statement by lightly brushing a point on Frodo's back.
The affects of the medicine Aragorn had administered to him were starting to wear off. The dreamlike state was diminishing, and Frodo realized that he could move most of his body after all. His legs were mostly unresponsive, but he could feel them twitch slightly.
"My legs.I can't really move them," Frodo craned his neck to look up at Aragorn who was starting to redress the wound on his back.
Aragorn looked up sharply.
"You can't move them at all?" he asked anxiously.
"Mm, there is some feeling in them. Just a little, but they don't want to move," Frodo tried to wiggle them, but the effort was a bit tiring, so he stopped.
Aragorn stroked Frodo's hair gently, "If you have some feeling in them, you should be alright, but we'll have to be careful just the same. You won't be able to get out of this bed or sit up until I am completely satisfied that you're healed. You really should restrain your movement. We don't want you doing any further damage. Are you still feeling alright? You feel a bit feverish."
Frodo sighed, "I'm tired. I wish to rest now."
Aragorn kissed the top of his head gently, "Let me finish putting this bandage on and you can."
Moments later, Frodo felt himself slipping off into a troubled sleep in which he was continuously dragging himself up a mountain face, his legs refusing to move. Above him, the Nazgul cried.
TBC