Author's Note: I apologize for not updating for so long. I've been
working on a research paper in school, and it's been taking up an
unreasonable amount of my time. Sorry!
MoroTheWolfGod: Legolas is coming, he's coming! Chapter four has him in it, never fear!
Lil*bee: Well, you got some of it correct. Hehe. Don't worry, I'm a pervy hobbit fancier as well! Particularly Merry.tee hee.
Lady Jaina: My goodness! I have a repeat reviewer! This is amazing! Just for that, I'll give you an ice cream sundae! *hands Lady Jaina the ice cream* Thank you! *grins*
Chapter Three: Sam
It took Sam a moment to realize that the noise had stopped; the caves had become silent once more, devoid of the sound of falling rocks. He opened his eyes, frowned, then tried to open them again. After several repetitions, he realized that his eyes were open-it was just too dark to see anything.
"Lovely," he murmured quietly. Well, he was alive and conscious. That, at least, was worth something. Now, what exactly had happened? The rocks had started falling, he remembered that. And he seemed to recall pushing someone to the ground. Who had that been? Oh, of course, Frodo. But what had happened then? If only he didn't have such a pounding headache.
Frustrated, Sam sat up. Immediately his headache grew from a pounding to a painful throb, and a jolt of pain shot up his leg. He gasped and grabbed at his leg, but his headache grew so unbearable with the sudden movement that he had to lie back down, drawing his breath in ragged gasps.
Something moved next to him. "Sam? Is that you?"
Relief course through his body - Frodo was alive. "Yes, Mr. Frodo, I'm right over here." His headache was beginning to die down, thankfully.
He heard shuffling noises off to his right, where Frodo's voice had come from. "Where are you? I can't see a thing, it's so dark." After several moments of scuffing noises, Sam felt Frodo grab his hand. "Oh, good. At least we're not alone," he heard his master say. A dull thump told him that Frodo had sat down next to him.
Sam smiled, not daring to sit up. "Do you have any idea where we are, Mr. Frodo? I can't remember anything after I knocked you to the ground."
Frodo was silent for a moment, and Sam wondered if he had heard him. "The ground gave way beneath us, Sam, don't you remember? We fell a few feet, perhaps seven or eight at the most." There was another moment of silence, and Sam thought he felt air move against his face. "Sam, are you hurt? Why are you lying down?"
"Oh, no, I'm not hurt," he said hurriedly, realizing that the air he had felt was Frodo passing his hand through the air above his head to see where he was. "I just have a headache of sorts. It will likely pass."
"All right, if you're sure," Frodo said, sounding doubtful. Still, there was little anyone could do in the dark anyway.
Suddenly, everything around the two hobbits came into view, lit by what looked like dull candlelight. Both of them jerked in surprise. The light grew brighter, little by little, until a lantern appeared around a rock wall. The lantern was followed by a hand, which was followed by-
"Merry!" Frodo cried joyfully. "You're all right! Why didn't you call out to us?" Merry walked closer, grinning nervously. His face and hands were covered in scratches of all sizes, though none of them seemed grave. "I wanted to see if I could get this lantern lit first. I had it in my pack, in case of emergencies. Do you have any idea how hard it is to light something when it's pitch black? It took me long enough just to find the - My goodness! Sam! What happened to you?"
Sam looked at him in surprise, as did Frodo. After frowning at his cousin, Frodo looked down at Sam. "Sam!" he cried, scrambling to his knees. "You said you weren't hurt!"
Sam frowned up at him. "But I'm not, Mr. Frodo," he said, starting to push himself into a sitting position. "I just have this head-"
Frodo quickly pushed out his hands, and Merry rushed forward to do likewise. "Don't move," Frodo said firmly, his dark blue eyes full of worry. "Merry, do you have a cloth or something of the sort that I might use to stop the bleeding?"
"Bleeding?" Sam said faintly. He tentatively reached his hand up and touched his forehead with one finger. The simple action of his finger coming in contact with his skin caused a sensation like a raging fire to shoot across his forehead. He gasped in pain. "That hurt!" Bringing his hand down into his line of vision, he saw that the tip of it was covered in blood. He swallowed hard.
"For goodness sake, Sam!" Merry cried. "How can you not know you're hurt with a gash in your head that size?" He stopped talking as Frodo shot him a stern look.
"Now, Merry, it's not that bad. As soon as we stop the bleeding, Sam should be good as new." He raised his eyebrows at his cousin. Merry got the hint and set about searching though his pack.
A few seconds later, he triumphantly cried, "Here we go!" as he reached into his pack and produced a torn shirt. "Pippin's," he said, shrugging, as he handed it to Frodo. "I had been meaning to help him mend it, but I never got around to it."
Frodo shook his head ruefully at Merry, then turned back to Sam and pressed the cloth gently against his forehead. The soft cotton might as well have been rusty chain mail, the way it scraped at his wound. Instinctively, Sam reached up and grabbed Frodo's wrist. The two locked eyes and smiled wryly.
Frodo withdrew his hand, gently removing Sam's fingers from his forearm. "I know it hurts, but we have to stop the bleeding somehow." Sam glanced at the cloth Frodo held, and saw that it now sported a red splotch where it had been pressed against his head. Sighing, he nodded.
Frodo held the cloth up. "Now, don't grab me suddenly again, or it will hurt more," he said firmly.
A few minutes later, Sam's wound had been cleaned to the best of Frodo's ability, and he and Merry had managed to make a makeshift bandage out of Pippin's shirt. They helped Sam to sit up and lean against the wall as well. As he moved, he felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and remembered how it had pained him earlier. He chose to ignore it, gritting his teeth, feeling that he had already caused enough trouble already.
Finally, the three hobbits sat in a tight circle, passing around a bit of bread and cheese. Merry glanced around them nervously. "Do you think the others are alright, Frodo?" he asked, eyeing the rock ceiling with suspicion.
Frodo sighed and swallowed his bread. "We'll just have to assume that they are, won't we?"
Sam's gaze moved to the wall of rocks, hoping above all things that his friends were on the other side of it, rather than under it. Until they knew for sure, the three of them could do nothing except sit and wait.
MoroTheWolfGod: Legolas is coming, he's coming! Chapter four has him in it, never fear!
Lil*bee: Well, you got some of it correct. Hehe. Don't worry, I'm a pervy hobbit fancier as well! Particularly Merry.tee hee.
Lady Jaina: My goodness! I have a repeat reviewer! This is amazing! Just for that, I'll give you an ice cream sundae! *hands Lady Jaina the ice cream* Thank you! *grins*
Chapter Three: Sam
It took Sam a moment to realize that the noise had stopped; the caves had become silent once more, devoid of the sound of falling rocks. He opened his eyes, frowned, then tried to open them again. After several repetitions, he realized that his eyes were open-it was just too dark to see anything.
"Lovely," he murmured quietly. Well, he was alive and conscious. That, at least, was worth something. Now, what exactly had happened? The rocks had started falling, he remembered that. And he seemed to recall pushing someone to the ground. Who had that been? Oh, of course, Frodo. But what had happened then? If only he didn't have such a pounding headache.
Frustrated, Sam sat up. Immediately his headache grew from a pounding to a painful throb, and a jolt of pain shot up his leg. He gasped and grabbed at his leg, but his headache grew so unbearable with the sudden movement that he had to lie back down, drawing his breath in ragged gasps.
Something moved next to him. "Sam? Is that you?"
Relief course through his body - Frodo was alive. "Yes, Mr. Frodo, I'm right over here." His headache was beginning to die down, thankfully.
He heard shuffling noises off to his right, where Frodo's voice had come from. "Where are you? I can't see a thing, it's so dark." After several moments of scuffing noises, Sam felt Frodo grab his hand. "Oh, good. At least we're not alone," he heard his master say. A dull thump told him that Frodo had sat down next to him.
Sam smiled, not daring to sit up. "Do you have any idea where we are, Mr. Frodo? I can't remember anything after I knocked you to the ground."
Frodo was silent for a moment, and Sam wondered if he had heard him. "The ground gave way beneath us, Sam, don't you remember? We fell a few feet, perhaps seven or eight at the most." There was another moment of silence, and Sam thought he felt air move against his face. "Sam, are you hurt? Why are you lying down?"
"Oh, no, I'm not hurt," he said hurriedly, realizing that the air he had felt was Frodo passing his hand through the air above his head to see where he was. "I just have a headache of sorts. It will likely pass."
"All right, if you're sure," Frodo said, sounding doubtful. Still, there was little anyone could do in the dark anyway.
Suddenly, everything around the two hobbits came into view, lit by what looked like dull candlelight. Both of them jerked in surprise. The light grew brighter, little by little, until a lantern appeared around a rock wall. The lantern was followed by a hand, which was followed by-
"Merry!" Frodo cried joyfully. "You're all right! Why didn't you call out to us?" Merry walked closer, grinning nervously. His face and hands were covered in scratches of all sizes, though none of them seemed grave. "I wanted to see if I could get this lantern lit first. I had it in my pack, in case of emergencies. Do you have any idea how hard it is to light something when it's pitch black? It took me long enough just to find the - My goodness! Sam! What happened to you?"
Sam looked at him in surprise, as did Frodo. After frowning at his cousin, Frodo looked down at Sam. "Sam!" he cried, scrambling to his knees. "You said you weren't hurt!"
Sam frowned up at him. "But I'm not, Mr. Frodo," he said, starting to push himself into a sitting position. "I just have this head-"
Frodo quickly pushed out his hands, and Merry rushed forward to do likewise. "Don't move," Frodo said firmly, his dark blue eyes full of worry. "Merry, do you have a cloth or something of the sort that I might use to stop the bleeding?"
"Bleeding?" Sam said faintly. He tentatively reached his hand up and touched his forehead with one finger. The simple action of his finger coming in contact with his skin caused a sensation like a raging fire to shoot across his forehead. He gasped in pain. "That hurt!" Bringing his hand down into his line of vision, he saw that the tip of it was covered in blood. He swallowed hard.
"For goodness sake, Sam!" Merry cried. "How can you not know you're hurt with a gash in your head that size?" He stopped talking as Frodo shot him a stern look.
"Now, Merry, it's not that bad. As soon as we stop the bleeding, Sam should be good as new." He raised his eyebrows at his cousin. Merry got the hint and set about searching though his pack.
A few seconds later, he triumphantly cried, "Here we go!" as he reached into his pack and produced a torn shirt. "Pippin's," he said, shrugging, as he handed it to Frodo. "I had been meaning to help him mend it, but I never got around to it."
Frodo shook his head ruefully at Merry, then turned back to Sam and pressed the cloth gently against his forehead. The soft cotton might as well have been rusty chain mail, the way it scraped at his wound. Instinctively, Sam reached up and grabbed Frodo's wrist. The two locked eyes and smiled wryly.
Frodo withdrew his hand, gently removing Sam's fingers from his forearm. "I know it hurts, but we have to stop the bleeding somehow." Sam glanced at the cloth Frodo held, and saw that it now sported a red splotch where it had been pressed against his head. Sighing, he nodded.
Frodo held the cloth up. "Now, don't grab me suddenly again, or it will hurt more," he said firmly.
A few minutes later, Sam's wound had been cleaned to the best of Frodo's ability, and he and Merry had managed to make a makeshift bandage out of Pippin's shirt. They helped Sam to sit up and lean against the wall as well. As he moved, he felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and remembered how it had pained him earlier. He chose to ignore it, gritting his teeth, feeling that he had already caused enough trouble already.
Finally, the three hobbits sat in a tight circle, passing around a bit of bread and cheese. Merry glanced around them nervously. "Do you think the others are alright, Frodo?" he asked, eyeing the rock ceiling with suspicion.
Frodo sighed and swallowed his bread. "We'll just have to assume that they are, won't we?"
Sam's gaze moved to the wall of rocks, hoping above all things that his friends were on the other side of it, rather than under it. Until they knew for sure, the three of them could do nothing except sit and wait.