Title: Unlucky
Author: rabidsamfan
Chapter Six: Forward
Disclaimer: This isn't mine, except in notion, and some lines are taken straight from the chapters "Lothlorien" and "The Mirror of Galadriel".
Author Notes: Sorry about the delay. Too much fanfic, not enough Tolkien -- to the detriment of my style, unfortunately. But it's passable now, perhaps. Short, but if I don't post it, it'll get revised to death.
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Sam started to shake his head, and then caught it between both hands. "I'm not drunk," he said very carefully. "I just don't hurt. Much." But his cheeks were flushed, and the smile of reassurance he gave his master more than a little lopsided. Aragorn reached over and checked his forehead and cheeks by touch, frowning.
Orophin spoke up then, and Haldir answered him in their own tongue. Frodo saw the tension leave Aragorn's shoulders as the two Elves conversed, and leaned over to ask, "What are they saying?"
"Orophin has dosed Sam with a kind of liqueur, so he is a little drunk, but only a little, and the pain will stay at bay for a while. More importantly the drink will stay his fever for a few hours, and by then we should have reached another healer," Aragorn answered, leaning back again. "He'll be all right, Frodo."
"A liqueur? Is it like the stuff that Gandalf gave us on Caradhras?" Pippin had overheard. He was feeling better, with food and a little wine, but the prospect of staying awake was still daunting to him.
"Gandalf?" Haldir repeated, surprised. "Mithrandir was with you?"
Frodo couldn't answer. Memory had struck him like an arrow from the dark. Sam started to cry, and Pippin knelt to give him a hug, berating himself for reminding everyone.
Aragorn was the first of them to find words. "He was our guide, and our leader. But he fell."
"Fell?" Haldir exclaimed. "How? Where?"
"At the Bridge of Khazad-Dum," said Gimli, in a low voice, with the dread of the memory bright in his eyes. "Into the unmeasured depths of the abyss. The pass was closed to us, by storm and malice, so we passed through Moria. There by the Chamber of Mazarbul the Orcs came upon us, and we fought and fled, but when we reached the bridge we were overtaken. The drums of the Orcs had summoned Durin's Bane. Gandalf stood against it, broke the bridge, and cast it down, but in its spite it pulled him in after, and he was lost."
"Durin's Bane? Balrog!" Haldir was on his feet, his face bone-white in the moonlight. "You bring a Balrog on your heels?"
"Had it followed we would already know," Aragorn reassured him. "Nay, nay, Gandalf prevented that at least. Neither Legolas nor I would have risked the Golden Wood did we think that worse than orcs pursued us."
"We will not stay to find out," Haldir said grimly. "We go. Now. And pray that the protection of the Lady is strong enough."
"But Merry, and Legolas, and your friend," Pippin protested. "They haven't eaten anything yet!"
"Then they shall go hungry!" Haldir said so fiercely that Pippin stepped back, tears starting in his eyes.
Aragorn rose to his feet, "Do not let your fear govern you!" he commanded, his mien high and grim, and his hand on the pommel of Anduril. "Already this day I have fallen into that error, and I shall not do so again. We have wounded we must tend before we go, yourself among them. Haste will not serve us so well as the strength to go on. Pippin, Boromir, relieve the watch and send them here to eat or take the food to them. We will join you as soon as we may."
Pippin scrambled to obey, but Boromir stood by Aragorn and waited, braced for battle. Haldir looked long into Aragorn's eyes, and the silence grew, brittle and dangerous. Frodo felt a pang of pity for Orophin, who could have understood but one word and that the worst, when he saw the wounded Elf's eyes flicker uncertainly from his brother to the Ranger. "We bring danger with us whatever Aragorn says," he thought, "even if it is only the Shadow, making us a threat to any who might be our allies in a better time." He tried to think of a way to break the stalemate, of words that might yet allow them all to reach a better refuge, if only for a day and a night. He was so tired!
And then Sam spoke up, chanting words he had heard but twice before.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire has woken,
A light from the shadows we bring;
Renewed is the blade that was broken;
The crownless again shall be king.
Haldir glared at Sam, but Sam smiled back and waved, well pleased with himself for remembering Bilbo's poem. And the Marchwarden's fear-born anger, meeting no resistance, washed away as suddenly as it had flowed and he gave a small smile to the hobbit before turning again to the Dunedan with a reluctant nod. "Very well, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. We shall take the time to prepare. But we must not tarry long."
"Nor shall we," Aragorn promised, much relieved. "Gimli, please gather together such supplies as Haldir thinks we may require. Frodo, will you help me tend the wounded?" He glanced at Boromir, who met his eyes with a nod of acknowledgement before taking himself off down the ladder after Pippin.
In spite of their haste, and Haldir's misgivings, it took some time to prepare to depart. Legolas, Merry and Rumil all had a chance to eat a little breakfast. Sam might have been able to manage the ladder, if someone steadied him, but Orophin could not, even after Aragorn had tended him, and Haldir's own wound was painful for climbing. He sent Rumil to the flet in the next tree, to retrieve a contrivance of pulley wheels so that they could use a rope to lower packs and injured, for all were tired, and even Gimli's dwarven strength was not without limits.
In their turns, the two Elves and Aragorn rode down with a foot in a loop of the rope. Sam they lowered in one of the large supply baskets, and Frodo with him; to keep the basket steadier, and because Sam was nearly asleep. He roused a little when they reached the ground, though, and Merry brought the kettle filled with water from the stream.
"Here, Sam," he said. "Let's clean your face and you'll feel better. Frodo, go and wash up by the waterfall." Merry's own face and hands and feet showed the signs of his ablutions, and in spite of the orc-blood spattered on his weskit, he seemed to have recovered his spirits. "Really, it helps. I'll stay with Sam." So Frodo went toward the music of the waterfall, and found there a small pool all aglow, as if the moon were caught beneath its waters. Above the waterfall the spray hung in the air, and a rainbow was there gleaming like jewels against the night sky. Nothing in Frodo's memory matched the beauty of it and he stood for a moment, breathing the sweet clean mist, before climbing down the steep bank to put his feet in the water.
Aragorn was already there, stripping water out of his hair with both hands. "Thank Nimrodel for strength returned!" the Dunedan sighed. "I can go a little longer, now."
"But how far do we have to go?" Frodo wondered, cupping a handful of water and moonlight in his hand and letting it fall in bright chains between his fingers. The very shadows on his heart were driven back somehow, and yet he knew that he would have to sleep and soon, to truly find his strength again.
"It depends on how Haldir takes us," Aragorn said. "If we follow the road, we have fifteen miles to go, until we reach the crossing of the Celebrant at the Gates. But since we go with the Galadhrim, we may find a place to cross sooner. Once across the river I think we will find a place to rest before too long." He waited while Frodo waded into the edge of the pool to wash hands and face, watching the opposite side of the stream. But no orc disturbed them, and Frodo only remembered the need for haste when Gimli and Boromir came in their turn.
Sam was sitting up when they got back to the tree, and fractious with the discovery that the orcs had kicked open his pack and strewn the contents in the leaves. "Look at these poor taters!" he exclaimed, displaying the smashed ruins. "And I was saving them and all for a treat when we got out of the dark. The salt pork's ground into mud, and what they've done to my herbs..."
"Well at least you won't have to carry so much," Pippin said cheerfully, bringing an armful of retrieved goods to be restored to the pack. "How many handkerchiefs did you bring, anyway?"
"Enough to make up for the ones you didn't," Merry retorted. "Here, Sam. I've found your hat. That will cushion your head a little, once I've turned these straps out of it. What are they for? Oh." He fell silent as the shape of the pony halter untangled into familiarity.
Aragorn gently took hat and halter from Merry and knelt by Sam. Sam reached out and touched the supple leather with one hand. "I didn't want to leave it to be found," he said. "Not where it might lead something as was following us. But I don't suppose as I need it now."
"It can go with us a little farther," Aragorn said, putting the halter into the pack with the other things, passing the whole thing to Merry and Pippin and indicating that they should finish finding what they could. He smiled down at Sam. "I haven't thanked you yet, for coming to my defense above."
Sam was confused for a moment by the change of subject, but then he remembered and blushed. "I'm not sure I got the words right," he admitted.
"You did well enough, Sam," Frodo reassured him, willing to aid Aragorn in distracting Sam from old griefs. "Bilbo would be proud of you."
"I miss him," Sam said, simply. "I miss his singing. I miss his songs."
Frodo put an arm around Sam's shoulders for a careful hug. A good washing had brought Sam to wakefulness, but his eyes were still clouded with the liqueur and deferred pain. Melancholy and music were each a half step aside, Frodo thought, and hugged Sam a little harder. "How can you miss Bilbo's songs when you've got them all in your head?" he teased, smiling at the memory of Sam teaching Pippin-lad a kitchen song over and over as they shelled peas on the steps of Bag End.
Sam brightened. "I do haven't I?" he said, as if he'd never thought of it before. "Or a good many at least." He grimaced as Aragorn eased the soft felt hat over his bandages. "Too bad as he doesn't have any songs about having a sore head."
"I'm surprised," Aragorn said dryly. "He certainly has a few about how to get one."
Sam snickered, and Frodo surprised himself by laughing. "What about the pancake song, Sam? Isn't that for sore heads?"
"Well it is and it isn't," Sam said. "Seeing as how the one singing it isn't the one as wants to sleep a bit more. But I didn't learn that from Mr. Bilbo. My Gaffer taught it to us after a hard night at the Green Dragon."
"I'd like to hear it," Aragorn said, surveying their companions. Merry and Pippin were tying closed Sam's much depleted pack, Boromir and Gimli were back from the stream, Legolas and Rumil had finished securing the ladder in the branches and were coiling the rope that they'd used instead, Haldir had Orophin upright, leaning against one of the trees, and was tense with impatience. "Come, Sam," he said. "You can sing it to me on the way."
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A/N. Yes, Sam got it wrong. The poem is quoted in full at the Council of Elrond if you're curious about how I changed it.
Danny Barefoot: I hope you've got that review by now. Gimli was the most problematic of the Walkers when they reached Lothlorien no matter when they arrived, but I hope he feels better treated in this version.
Elliekin: Yeah, I hate it when everyone comes through without a scratch too – although I'm afraid I'm succumbing to Lone Ranger syndrome. (Every hurt is where it can be easily bandaged without messing up the costume…) Oh, well, I don't want to have anyone *too* disabled!
FrodoBaggins: Well, I think I got the pause right. Not sure about the angst or drama…
Bramblerose: Thank you!
Shirebound: Thank you, too! I really fight with the words sometimes, and other times they just flow.
Eiluj: Thanks for pointing out the goofs. Makes my life much easier.
Eykar: I meant to get Sam to a healer quick, but the Elf Marchwarden panicked on me, and then the story wouldn't go to the lovely bit of dialogue I'd thought up for Frodo and Sam no matter how much I beat on it. Hence the delay…