A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting this! I meant to do it earlier, but life happened, so I was thwarted. :p But here you go! Enjoy, and thank you to those who have been reviewing! Though I don't always have time to individually acknowledge you, rest assured I read and save every review I receive. :)



__A Little Walk 6/?__



Pippin returned soon after Aragorn departed, whining about all of his duties and complaining of being dead tired before divesting himself of the bare minimum of his clothing and rolling into his space on the bed. Upward of five minutes passed before he moved or even spoke. "Merry?" came his muffled voice from deep within his pillow.

"What?" Merry asked, feigning annoyance, but rather pleased that he'd won the bet with Sam, who had thought Master Peregrin was really asleep and would remain so for some time. Merry knew better, and already had a suspicion what Pippin was going to say.

"I'm hungry."

Just what Merry had suspected. But he was ready. "Pip, don't they feed you right after you're relieved of duty?"

A moment of silence followed before a reluctant reply came from the pile of bedding and curly hair that was Peregrin Took. "Well, yes . . ."

Sam snickered, as Merry responded, "Then why are you hungry?"

Pippin sounded insulted. "They don't give us much, and I'm a growing hobbit, you know!" But underneath his voice was teasing. This was a morning ritual, not always said the same way each day but with the same topic nonetheless.

Today was different though, for Pippin's usual complaint reminded Merry and Sam that they had not yet had even first breakfast. Their stomachs growled loudly, and Pippin bounded up with glee. "Let's go get some food, Merry!"

Normally Merry would protest, arguing that he didn't want to bother the already busy palace cooks, but today he put up no argument. With brief instructions from Sam to get something suitable for Frodo, he and Pippin joyfully dashed out the door, headed for their absolute favorite place in the city: the kitchens.

Sam shook his head in amusement as he turned away from the door; he knew full well it would be a while before those truants would return victorious, with arms and trays mysteriously lighter than they'd been upon leaving the cooks' sight. He was more than a bit surprised to see Frodo awake, blinking slowly as if concentrating on something entirely different than what he was staring at. Frodo noticed Sam's movement and turned his head slightly towards him. "Hullo, Sam," he said hoarsely. "What's happened? I seem to have misplaced several hours. And," he grimaced as he shifted slightly. "I am rather sore..."

For a moment, Sam wasn't sure what to reveal and what to keep from his master, so he decided to disclose the bare minimum. "You've been bad sick, Mr. Frodo," he stated simply. "Would you like something to drink?"

Frodo considered him for a moment. "You're avoiding the question. But that's all right, I suppose . . . Where are Merry and Pippin?"

"Now who's avoiding the question?" Sam teased. "They're raiding the kitchens, as usual. Now here," he continued, picking up a mug of water and holding it up to Frodo's dry lips, "drink."

Frodo sipped it obediently, too tired -and yes, even thirsty- to argue with Sam. It took him a while, but he managed to finish it all, much to Sam's delight. By then he could barely keep his eyes open, and Sam urged him, "Just go ahead and sleep, Mr. Frodo. I'll be right here." Frodo needed no encouragement, and was soon asleep once again.

Sam sat back and looked at Frodo appraisingly. His master was still too pale, his fever seemed to be climbing -his face was flushed and had a sheen of sweat- and his breathing still sounded congested and labored. But he was not nearly so bad off as earlier that morning.



Merry and Pippin returned more quickly than Sam had expected, bearing heavy-laden food trays with a wide assortment of goods filched and begged from the stern cooks. They set the food down on two short tables positioned by the window for that purpose. In this instance, they really would have preferred to sit on the bed to eat, but there was no way to get the trays up onto the bed without spilling everything all over. Sam slid down off the bed and came over to survey the spread. There were warm rolls, plates of sliced meats and cheeses, several stacks of steaming pancakes with a miniature jug of syrup on the side, a bowl of scrambled eggs, a platter of juicy sausages, and a couple of covered dishes whose contents weren't immediately discernible.

Merry pointed to one of the covered bowls. "That's some chicken broth for Frodo, and the head cook also made me take a pitcher of 'her special tea', she called it. It smells like mint and chamomile."

Curious, Sam picked up the pitcher and sniffed. "Aye. Chamomile and... peppermint, if I don't miss my guess."

Merry nodded. "So, there it is. How is he?" he asked quietly as the three sat down in small chairs made for them and began attacking the food in true hobbit style.

Sam had to swallow a bite of roll before answering. "He woke up just a bit ago, asking what happened and such. I made him drink some water, and then he went back to sleep."

"So he's all right?" asked Pippin, having consumed a stack of pancakes and several large spoonfuls of eggs, enough to curb his raging appetite so he could safely turn his attention to the conversation without being in danger of immediately starving.

Sam shot him a disbelieving look and retorted, "Does he look all right to you? No, he's not better yet, though he's improved a good deal from earlier."

"Oh." Pippin returned to concentrating on his food.

There was silence as the hobbits finished eating, Merry and Pippin ensuring there was nary a crumb left behind. Sam glanced toward the bed every so often, checking on Frodo, and trying to decide when would be the best time to feed him. The same thought was on Merry's mind as Pippin stacked the empty plates and bowls. "Should we wake him to eat, or just feed him like we did earlier?"

Sam contemplated the choice. He answered slowly, "Well, he needs his sleep . . . but it's a sight easier to feed him when he's awake . . ."

The debate was cut short by the sound of coughing from the bed. Sam was up in a flash, with Merry close behind. Merry boosted Sam up onto the bed, then climbed up himself. Sam sat close to Frodo, helping him sit up and lean forward a bit, as Merry reached over him for the 'cough cloth' for Frodo to spit into, if necessary. Frodo coughed harshly, each intake of breath spurring new spasms. Sam gingerly rubbed Frodo's back, trying carefully not to put too much pressure on the bruised flesh. After several moments that seemed to drag on into eternity, the fit ended, leaving Frodo winded and gasping, his face red from exertion. As Sam helped him lay back against his pillows, Pippin -or at least his curly head- appeared at the side of the bed. "I've brought the soup and that tea, cousin," he offered helpfully, holding up the dishes for Merry to take.

"Thanks, Pip. Why don't you come on up and go to sleep?"

Pippin's reply wasn't audible, but his head went bobbing around the bed and soon he appeared in his usual spot. Merry handed the soup bowl to Sam, while he poured some tea and offered it to his cousin. Frodo didn't say a word; he simply laid there with his eyes closed, breathing in little gasps. He drank some of the tea, and swallowed some soup, all without even looking at them. After finishing a cup of tea and about half of the broth, he closed his mouth and shook his head when Sam urged him to have more. "All right, then," Sam sighed as he pulled up the covers and securely tucked Frodo in.

"Sleep well, cousin." Merry said softly, leaving a kiss on Frodo's brow before sliding off the bed to dispose of the dirty dishes.

~~~~~~

When Gandalf stealthily opened the door and peered inside about an hour past midday, the room was peaceful; two lumps lay sleeping on the bed, and the other two hobbits sat at the table by the window and conversed quietly. He could see Frodo lying on the far end of the bed, the dark hair against the pillow being a dead give-away. A closer glance identified Meriadoc and Samwise as being seated at the table, Samwise of course positioned just right so he could keep Frodo in his sight. Which left the other form hidden in blankets to be Peregrin. Perhaps the food would last longer than he'd thought.

Neither of the hobbits on the far side of the room had noticed his presence, so he opened the door wider and cleared his throat as he entered. "I see you've managed to keep yourselves out of any further mischief," Gandalf commented with a smile as the two hobbits jumped in surprise.

"Gandalf!" Merry said, standing hurriedly. Sam followed suit, and both watched as two servants entered behind the wizard, carrying loaded food trays. "Ah, just in time for luncheon," Merry observed with a sage nod.

As if having a sixth sense for that sort of thing, Pippin sat up and pulled a blanket off his head. "Why, Gandalf, how thoughtful of you!" he said with an impish grin, quickly disentangling himself from the quilts and blankets and hurrying over to the table now laden with foodstuffs.

Gandalf gave a mock groan and threw his hands in the air. "There goes any chance of a quiet lunch!" He chuckled and winked at Pippin. Turning to the bed, he sobered and asked, "How is he doing?"

Sam followed Gandalf to the bedside and watched as Gandalf laid a hand on Frodo's forehead, then grasped one of the limp hands lying on the coverlet. "He's been sleeping, and he's even eaten and drunk some. Early this mornin' it was real bad, but he pulled through..."

Gandalf closed his eyes as if thinking, then after a moment or two, opened them again and nodded. "Good. You make sure he cooperates, understand?"

"O' course, Mr. Gandalf! It's what I intend to do anyhow."

Gandalf smiled at the faithful's gardener's exuberance and patted him on the shoulder. "I know. Now come and have a bite..."

As they approached the table, Merry asked, "Why are you here, anyway? I'm sure there is more to it than bringing us starving hobbits a bite to eat."

Gandalf laughed. "You've found me out! You're too clever to be fooled by an old wizard's tricks anymore, Meriadoc. It is true, I brought the food as an excuse to check up on you rascals and make sure nothing else has gone awry. So it's a good thing you were behaving when I arrived or I might have had to do something drastic."

"Like make them skip a meal?" teased another familiar voice from the doorway.

"Hullo, Aragorn!" Merry and Pippin chorused cheerfully around bites of food.

The King casually ambled over to the table, swiped a roll, and chewed contentedly. Being polite, he waited until he swallowed before speaking. "Before you even ask, I also have a reason for coming: there is to be another banquet tonight. Merry, Eomer has asked that you attend him, and Pippin, I would like you to attend me. Sam, you also are invited of course, but everyone will understand if you do not wish to attend."

Merry and Pippin nodded in acknowledgment of their duties for the evening. Sam crossed his arms resolutely and replied, "I think you already know my answer: I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, that's what I suspected. Which reminds me, I have someone to introduce to you all." He turned and beckoned. The hobbits followed his eyes, noticing for the first time the couple standing shyly by the door. Sam and Merry recognized Esli from that morning, and both reasoned that the woman standing next to him was his wife.

She wore a modest dress of muted brown, her dark blonde hair plaited and wound round her head, as was the usual mode for the women in the city. The sorrow and grief in her eyes added a solemn gravity that seemed out of place in her youthful face, and Sam was struck by the thought that if she would but smile, she would be quite comely. She could not compare to the ethereal beauty of Lady Arwen and Lady Galadriel, nor the proud fairness of Lady Eowyn, but she had a handsomeness of her own.

"As you may remember, this is Esli," Aragorn reminded them, "and this is his wife, Jael. She is going to assist in taking care of Frodo, especially when I cannot be present. Apparently she has had some training and experience in such matters, and will be a great help."

Esli straightened in pride, hugging his wife a little closer to him with his arm around her waist, but Jael blushed deeply and avoided all their gazes. After a moment of regaining her composure, she murmured, "I am grateful to be of service," as she curtsied awkwardly.

The hobbits stood as Aragorn introduced them, each bowing slightly as his name was given. They returned to the remainder of their luncheon when Aragorn and Jael, still escorted protectively by Esli, proceeded to the bed, discussing Frodo's condition.

Merry and Pippin didn't seem to care much about this new female, but Sam was curious what she was really like. Her voice was soft and kind-sounding, but held a note of melancholy that echoed the misery in her eyes. He wondered what made her so sad, though he supposed he would find out soon enough, seeing how she would be helping to take care of Mr. Frodo and all.



TBC