Title: Unlucky
Author: rabidsamfan
Chapter two: Lothlorien
Summary: AU diversion – what if the cut Sam got in the Mines of Moria had been poisoned, after all? Version 2 (minor corrections)
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, but rather to J.R.R. Tolkien -- and several lines are quoted directly out of the chapter "Lothlorien." The best ones, of course.
******
Frodo's bruises troubled him little, once Aragorn had tended them, and he was able to go at a fair pace down the mountain, once Merry and Pippin between them had taken the heaviest things from his pack. But Sam's head was still tender, and he was borne by Aragorn and Boromir and Legolas in turn. He found that even to be carried so was tiring, and his protests faded into soft murmurs within the first hour. They had not gone far before the sun sank behind the western heights and great shadows came down the mountain-sides. Frodo hadn't considered this aspect of mountains before and he looked out onto the light which lingered on the dim lands of plain and wood to the east and wondered when true sunset would come.
Too soon it fell, and the short dusk of winter after it, and still Aragorn pressed them forward. Just once he let them rest, while he brewed the last leaf of athelas and bathed Sam's head once more. Then on they went into the night, with the Silverlode tumbling always on their left. Frodo unsheathed Sting, but the blade was dark, and the only light on it was starlight. And yet Frodo felt that they were followed, and paused often to look back over his shoulder. Once he thought he saw the gleam of two distant eyes, but he could not be certain, for they slipped aside and vanished.
"What is it?" Gimli asked, falling back to walk beside Frodo.
"I don't know," answered Frodo. "I thought I heard something, and I thought I saw a light – like eyes. I have often thought so, since we first entered Moria."
Gimli halted and stooped to the ground. "I hear nothing but the speech of plant and stone," he said. "Come, let us hurry, the others have got too far ahead."
Frodo hastened his footsteps, glad to have Gimli's night eyes there with him. "I'm sorry about your cousin," he said, once they'd reached the corner of the road and could see the others like shadows on the road ahead once more. "Did you manage not to lose the book? The one that Gandalf –" his voice faltered, but he went on. "The one that Gandalf read to us?"
"I did," Gimli answered gruffly, and then as if he thought better of the short answer, went on to say. "I would not toss aside knowledge that was gained at such a cost, and Dain will have it someday, as Gandalf wished, if I live to bring it to him."
Frodo looked down at the small shadows that were his cousins, and the shape that was Sam, draped across Aragorn's shoulder. "I begin to doubt that any of us will live to see the end of this, Gimli," he said. "Not if even Gandalf could not stand against the Shadow."
*****
It was full night when they came to the eaves of the wood, and the stars that glittered above them in a cold sky had gone more than half their nightly course. No moon was there yet, for he was waning fast, and would not rise above the eastern lands till just before the dawn; but even the starlight was enough to show a hint of gold in the leaves above straight trunks of silver-grey. Legolas stopped to take Sam from Aragorn. The hobbit had fallen into a fitful sleep, and he didn't fully waken, but only huddled deeper into the shelter of the bundle of blankets. But Legolas breathed deeply of the chill wind that came up the valley and set the golden leaves to rustling like the susurrus of a poplar grove. "Lothlorien, Lothlorien," he sighed. "Alas that it is winter."
"Lothlorien!" said Aragorn, easing his back. "Glad I am to hear again the wind in the trees! But we are still a little more than five leagues from the Gates, and we can go but a little further. Let us hope that the virtue of the Elves will keep us tonight from the peril that comes behind."
"If Elves indeed still dwell here in the darkening world," said Gimli.
"It is long indeed since any of my own folk journeyed hither back to the land whence we wandered in ages long ago," said Legolas, "but in Rivendell they say that Lorien is not yet deserted, for there is a secret power here that hold evil from the land. Nevertheless its folk are seldom seen, and maybe they dwell now deep in the woods and far from the northern border."
"Indeed deep in the woods they dwell," said Aragorn, and sighed as if some memory stirred in him. "We must fend for ourselves tonight. Go on a little way, Legolas, until the trees are deep enough to hide the sight of the mountains, and then we will turn aside from the path and seek a place to rest in."
So Legolas led them along the path by the river, a little more than a mile, until they came to another stream tumbling swiftly down from the west. Its splashing told them of a fall in the shadows on their right, before they came to the dark hurrying waters that ran across their road and joined the Silverlode in a swirl of dim pools among the roots of trees.
"Here is Nimrodel!" said Legolas, halting by the bank. "Wake up, Sam, for of this stream my people still sing songs, and its waters are said to bring healing to the weary."
"What kind of songs?" asked Sam, dragging himself from his dozing as Legolas set him on his feet. He swayed and Frodo and Merry came up to steady him as they watched Legolas climb down the deep-cloven bank.
"Songs of the rainbow by the falls," said Legolas, reaching back for Sam and lifting him down until the cool water ran soft over his toes, and then laving his hot face with a handful at a time. "And of the golden flowers that floated in the foam. There was a bridge once, but it is gone. Still, it is no matter. The water is not deep. Even Pippin can wade across."
And each of the company, as they waded out into the cold stream felt the clean touch of it wash away the stain of weariness and travel, and they reached the southern shore refreshed. And there they thought to stop a little, and eat a bite where they could listen to the music of the falls. For music it was, as if a voice were mingled with the sound of the water.
"Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel, the maiden who lived by this stream long ago?" Legolas asked, after even Pippin had fallen silent in order to listen more closely.
"I think…" Frodo began, but Sam, who had fallen into a doze, chose that moment to snore, and the company found themselves laughing, as they would not have guessed they could laugh again so soon. But Aragorn reached over to touch Sam's face, and found it too warm for his liking. "Sing to us of Nimrodel when we have found shelter for the night, my friend," he told Legolas. "We should not linger here."
"But where will we find shelter?" Merry asked. "Are there houses here in the woods, like Elrond's house?"
"Nay, the Galadhrim dwell in Lorien," said Legolas, getting to his feet once more. "They do not delve, nor build in stone. The Tree People, they are, and of old it was their custom to live high in the great trees that grow deep in the forest."
"And even in these later days dwelling in the trees might be safer than sitting on the ground," said Gimli, looking thoughtfully up at the branches overhead.
Pippin shuddered. "I can't imagine sleeping in a tree," he said. "What if you fell out?"
"Then you shall dig a hole, Master hobbit, if you think the orcs will let you sleep in it," Gimli said. "But whither shall we go?"
"Come," said Legolas, "we will follow Nimrodel and see what shelter we can find beside her, above or below."
And so they set upwards along the mountain stream, and Frodo stayed by Aragorn who had taken Sam in his arms. "How are you feeling, Frodo?" Aragorn asked, and Frodo considered before he answered.
"I could go a little farther tonight, if I must," he said. "The water helped that much. But I hope not to. How is Sam? Is he supposed to sleep this much?"
"He heals as he sleeps," said Aragorn. "But the athelas leaves I had were old, and without their full virtue; we will have to be careful of him and watch the night. His fever is returning."
"Are you certain?" Frodo asked, surprised at finding himself a little frightened at the prospect. Never in all his life had he seen Sam taken sick, except over a surfeit of ale and that but once.
"I am," said Aragorn. "But do not give up hope! We are but a day's walk from Caras Galadhon, and there there are many wise healers, and beds of good herbs growing. And Sam is young and strong; it will take a sour wound far more than a day to fell him."
"Daro!" said a voice out of the darkness, and Legolas, who had been ready to try to climb one of the tall trees turned to the company and said, "Stand still! Do not move or speak!"
And then the voice spoke again, and Frodo could understand little, for the language was not like the Elvish he had learned from Bilbo and in Rivendell. Still, Legolas seemed to know it well, and after a few minutes conversation he reassured the company. "They want me to climb up with Frodo; for they seem to have had some tidings of him and of our journey. The others they ask to wait a little, and to keep watch at the foot of the tree, until they decide what is to be done."
"No," said Frodo. "No, I will not leave Sam. Aragorn can go with you, since he has been here before, and they will know him."
Legolas spoke to the Elves in the tree again, and a ladder came tumbling down, and down the ladder came a tall fair elf with a bag, who asked a question. Aragorn answered him in his own tongue, and the elf came and took Sam from the Ranger. "This is Orophin," said Aragorn quickly, before Frodo could protest. "He does not speak the Common tongue, but he knows something of wounds. Let him look at Sam while I go above, but have a care for the light!"
"What's happening?" Sam cried out, still half asleep, as Orophin set him down upon a fallen log.
Frodo went quickly to him. "It's all right, Sam," he said. "We've found some Elves, and they are going to see what they can do for your head."
"Oh, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, "do they have to? It's sore enough as it is."
"I'm afraid so, Sam. Here, sit up a little." Frodo propped his servant up and felt his shivering. "Here, Merry, Pip, see if you can block the wind a little."
"He can lean on this," said Gimli, coming with the young hobbits and putting Sam's pack beside him. Orophin looked at Gimli in the dark and said a word that Frodo did not know, but Sam protested fretfully. "There's no call for bad names, now."
Orophin apologized, or at least it sounded like an apology, and his hand went to his heart and out, as Elves did when giving a courtesy. He began to work the bandage off of Sam, and Frodo set down his sword and took Sam's hot dry hand in his own that he might squeeze it against the pain. "I didn't realize you'd learned so much Elvish, Sam," he said, to distract Sam from the examination. "What did he say?"
"I don't what it means, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, wincing, "not in words, but what a cook says when an entire cake plate hits the floor and the cake on it can't be nothing as is a compliment. Ow!"
Orophin apologized again, but signaled to the companions to shield Sam as he drew out a small covered lantern. Its silver light dazzled their eyes as he aimed it briefly on Sam's injury, but they heard him draw his breath between his teeth. He shut the lantern quickly and set it aside, delving quickly into his bag and murmuring the names of herbs as he chose among them.
"That doesn't sound good," Pippin said.
"It doesn't look too good either," said Merry, who had been in a position to see the blood caked dark in Sam's hair.
"I couldn't see," said Pippin, nervously. "All I could see was the light. I'm still seeing it, when I blink, only fainter, and lower."
Merry frowned and looked down, and saw Frodo's blade outlined in blue flickers of light at his cousin's feet. "Look at Sting!"
Frodo exclaimed and caught up the sword again, "Orcs!" he cried, and repeated it in the Elvish he knew for Orophin's sake. "They're coming."