A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviews, here and via email! :) Quite a few of you have voiced opinions concerning Jael, and I would like to assure you she's not gone just yet, as you'll see from this chapter. ;) I've also had some good suggestions about the gossip that could be going around about Jael and how she gained the King's favor so quickly, and I think I may be using that in the future. But no promises, since I really have no control over where this is going! To think I only intended this to be about 5 chapters...



_Chapter 14_

"Why'd you do that?" Sam demanded once he found his voice. For long moments he'd stood, stunned speechless and torn between going after Jael and staying with Frodo. Finally he decided that taking Strider to task would accomplish the most, so now he stood, arms crossed defiantly as he glared at the King.

Aragorn sighed and rubbed his forehead, listening closely for any sign Frodo was still having trouble breathing before replying. "For her sake and Frodo's, it is best if she is safely out of the way while I figure this out. Until we know for certain who did this, everyone will be looked on with suspicion. Even you would be, if I didn't know better than to think you'd ever try to harm Frodo."

He approached the bed and laid a hand on the gardener's shoulder as he crouched to look him straight in the eye. "Sam, I hope Jael did not do this. And if she did not, I think the person who did intended her to take the blame, but I need proof. Until I have that proof, it is best for her to remain safe at home. It would grieve me deeply if she did conceive this plot. Just as it would pain me greatly to see her put to death."

Sam's eyes widened, and he would have responded but for the return of Merry and Pippin, bearing two flagons of brandy.

The King stood and addressed them. "You rascals certainly took long enough!" he teased as he relieved them of the bottles.

"The wine master wasn't inclined to give these 'rascals' the brandy, until Pip pulled rank on him as a soldier of Gondor and insisted the King required it," Merry haughtily informed him.

Aragorn eyed the bottles with some amusement. "I see you sampled the goods, as well."

"Of course!" Pippin replied in an injured tone. "We had to make sure it was acceptable. And make sure it was safe for Cousin Frodo," he added.

Sam stiffened. "That's not funny," he said with a warning glance at the other two.

Merry caught the edge in his tone. "What are you saying?" he asked sharply.

It was Aragorn who answered the query. "He's saying that Frodo was poisoned, Merry. Some leaves of a particularly nasty plant were placed amongst the herbs, and a few made it into the tea he drank."

"Will he be all right?" Merry asked anxiously, glancing at his sleeping cousin on the bed.

"I believe so. It seems he's thrown up all of the tea, so all that remains is to wait until the effects wear off. Which is where the brandy comes in," he informed them, gesturing with one of the bottles.

"Brandy is one of the folk remedies for poisoning from this plant, though when I sent you for it, I merely desired it for its stimulating effect. In any case, it should prove most useful." So saying, he proceeded to the bedside, and placed the flagons on the table. He carefully removed the cooling hot water bottles from around Frodo, making sure to tuck the quilts back around him afterward and giving the bottles to the other three hobbits to be refilled.

He gently lifted Frodo partially upright, and sat behind him in support. The limp hobbit twitched and tried to move slightly, which relieved Aragorn-no movement would have worried him-though he did not have much control over his own limbs. But the change in position upset the balance he'd achieved before, and even mostly unconscious he moaned a little in warning before he retched.

Aragorn was not quite fast enough with the basin once he realized what was imminent, but the amount that came forth was not enough to make much of a mess. Frodo shuddered with the force of his heaves, though the effort didn't produce much, and to clean up Aragorn had only to fold up the top quilt and remove it, replacing it with one passed to him by Sam.

The King sat back against the headboard, settling Frodo against him again before reaching to pour a small amount of brandy into an empty mug. Corking the flagon, he took an appreciative sniff of the mug and sipped a bit of its contents. Then he turned his attention to giving Frodo small amounts and getting him to swallow it with a gentle hand rubbing his throat in encouragement.

The other three hobbits climbed onto the bed to watch apprehensively, and finally Merry asked, "So what plant was it?"

"One often used by farmers and herders to kill wolves, hence its name 'wolfsbane.' Fortunately for Frodo, the root is the most potent part, and not the leaves, though all parts of the plant are quite poisonous."

"Could he have died?" asked Pippin, wide-eyed.

Aragorn considered for a moment. "Yes, he could have."

"But you said he would be all right," Merry objected.

"He should be," Aragorn affirmed. "While this plant is very deadly, and in his current state, it should not have taken much of it to kill him, whomever planned it neglected to account for a few things. Frodo could not keep it down long, which gave it little time to work. The effect of the athelas I have been using in treating his illness cannot be discounted, and the spread of the poison was much slower than it could have been, since Frodo was not moving much."

"So being sick may have saved him?" Merry asked in disbelief.

The corners of Aragorn's mouth quirked into a small smile as he responded, "It just may have."

As if in response to their conversation about him, Frodo stirred a bit and yawned. Aragorn checked the hobbit's heartbeat: stronger than it had been, and he felt a bit closer to normal in temperature as well. Frodo tried to fight him a bit, struggling in his grasp as he tried to give him another sip of brandy.

"Shh, Frodo. You're all right. And you'll feel better if you don't try to move," Aragorn reassured him.

Frodo's brow furrowed, but he did not open his eyes. "Aragorn? But I thought..." he trailed off weakly. After a moment he finished a bit more strongly, "Never mind what I thought. Have you figured out what's wrong with me yet?"

The Man chuckled. "Yes. And we're trying to remedy it. Here, drink," he said, putting the cup to the hobbit's lips again.

His eyebrows quirked as he tasted the liquid and asked after he swallowed, "Why are you giving me brandy?!"

Aragorn laughed outright. "It will counteract your symptoms. How do you feel?"

"Still cold... but not quite as sick to my stomach," he admitted after a moment.

"Good. And your breathing?"

"Compared to before, or to normal?" he returned wryly.

"Ah, I believe compared to before would be best," Aragorn answered with mock seriousness.

"Better than before," Frodo affirmed.

In the course of the conversation, Frodo had finished the bit of brandy, so Aragorn reached over to the table for more. On a whim, he scooped a bit of the cooling athelas water from the basin placed there to ease Frodo's breathing, then added the brandy. "Here, drink some more, then we'll let you sleep again, and tuck you in with some hot water bottles," he encouraged him.

Frodo nodded tiredly. "That would be nice..." he said, allowing Aragorn to give him more of the liquid. The other three hobbits climbed down from the bed and retrieved the water bottles as the King carefully withdrew from behind Frodo and arranged the pillows comfortably behind him. Frodo was asleep again even before he finished tucking water bottles around him.

Merry and Pippin crawled back up on the bed and curled themselves next to their cousin as before, but Sam remained next to the bed, looking troubled. "Strider, if that plant is so bad, why would anyone have it?"

Aragorn settled himself into Jael's usual chair as he replied. "That is an excellent question. In small amounts, this plant can be used for pain relief and a number of other complaints. In slightly larger doses, it tends to have a pleasurable effect on those who are healthy, much like the effects of too much ale but without the hangover afterward. I suspect it was intended for illegal sale to those desiring that effect, and only later did the person think of using it for this purpose."

"Men would do that?" Sam questioned.

"Do what?"

"Buy an 'erb or whatnot without bein' sick?" he clarified.

Aragorn sighed. "Sadly, yes. And those who acquire it without need make it more scarce for those who have a legitimate reason to need it."

"That's just not right," Sam shook his head in censure.

"No, it's not. But I'm afraid many do things that aren't right, because they stand to gain."

"Will you fix it?" Sam looked hopeful.

"Pardon?"

"Will you make them stop doing that?"

Aragorn smiled slightly as he put a hand to his chest and bowed his head briefly. "I will do my best."

"Good." With a nod, Sam climbed up on to the bed as well, squeezing into the space between Frodo and the edge of the bed. "'Tain't right that such things should happen, now that there's a King an' all."

~~~~

". . . think . . . lookin' better . . . hand . . . warmer . . . enough?"

". . . regaining . . . color . . . heartbeat stronger . . ."

The voices trickled into his ears, tingling pleasantly through his mind though most went by not understood. Gradually he became aware of presences on either side of him, encouraging him every so often to take a sip of something that should probably be familiar if he weren't in such a haze. The voices died down and he began to get curious what they were up to. Silences usually led to something unpleasant, as if they were trying to spring it on him without him realizing what was happening until it was too late. He had no idea how he knew this, but accepted it without question, as he was unlikely to find proof either way with his eyes closed.

Frodo blinked blearily, overwhelmed even by the dim light of evening after the darkness of unawareness. Faces swam in his vision, crowding close with looks of mingled concern and relief, and he shut his eyes quickly, hoping the motion of the room would stop. One of the voices spoke, and he opened his eyes again cautiously to find that the faces had retreated a bit and ceased moving.

He sighed in relief, and moved a hand to rub some of the sleep from his eyes. Trouble is, he somehow completely missed his intended target and his hand landed squarely on his nose. He heard muffled snorts from both sides but dismissed them as he tried to figure out what went wrong. His eyes attempted to focus on the offending limb, still perched defiantly where he didn't want it, and this action produced outright laughter from the presences at his side.

A different hand appeared and moved his from his nose and back to his side where it had started. "How are you feeling, Frodo?" the voice attached to the hand asked.

It took him a moment to answer. "I' feelin' all righ' ..." he slurred, then hiccupped a little.

Merry and Pippin were roaring with laughter, and Sam shot Aragorn a displeased look. "I *told* you it was more'n enough. We should let you deal with 'im when he wakes up with a hangover. He's none too pleasant then, if you follow me."

He gave the King no time to answer before he was crawling closer to Frodo from his vantage point near the end of the bed. Patting his arm comfortingly as he pulled the blankets up and pushed a gasping Pippin out of the way, Sam assured him, "It's all right, Mr. Frodo. Just go back to sleep and you'll feel better for it."

The tone of this voice was soothing, so he allowed his eyes to drift closed again as the familiar lilt of the words lulled him into slumber.

~~~~

Esli cheerfully strolled home a few hours past sundown. He had a very pleasant day, seeing several friends he hadn't talked to in weeks, with the fighting and all. Once the war was over, they had gone to escort their families home, their wives and children among those evacuated before the city fell under siege. Jael would have been among them, had she not taken ill.

At the very least, he knew Jael would be pleased to learn her friends had returned, especially now that she was in better spirits. He'd intended to go tell her before returning home for the night, but the hour grew later than he'd realized while sharing a few good draughts in the tavern, learning more of the goings-on outside the walls of the city.

Esli opened the door to be greeted by a dark house, and realized anew that he keenly missed Jael's presence. As joyful as he was that she was able to assist the King, and in so doing bring her spirits back to life, a part of him wished she were home to greet him with her characteristic warmth and light.

With these thoughts of his wife at the front of his mind, he stepped into the dim house and moved to close the door behind him. The light of a lamp across the road shone in as he did so, and he realized someone was seated in the sole armchair of their humble sitting room. He shut the door as he said tentatively, "Jael?" No answer. He anxiously crossed the room to find her huddled on the chair, staring vacantly into the shadowed fireplace.

He crouched before her and cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs finding wet trails of tears and wiping them away. "What's the matter, dearest?"

"I think I've killed him," she sobbed.

"What d'you mean?"

"There... there was something bad in with the herbs and I . . . and I put some in his tea," she managed hesitatingly. "...and so I've been-been sent home until the King 'looks into the matter'."

"Jael, it's not yer fault," he soothed, holding her close as she cried. "The King won' truly think you intended to 'arm him." But she remained inconsolable for many minutes. Then he asked gently, "Why d'you think you killed him?"

"He-he got s-so sick s-so quickly and I didn't know what to do... and he's still s-so weak from before..." She swallowed hard before finishing miserably, "There's no way he could survive it."

"The hands of the King are the hands of a healer," Esli murmured thoughtfully. If Jael heard him, she gave no sign. Finally, when her tears seemed to have exhausted themselves, he said softly, "I will send word if I can find anything out on the morrow." She sniffed and nodded, and he continued encouragingly, "I think you should get some rest. The King will send for your return at any time, I'd warrant."

Jael gave him a small smile as she pulled away to rise, but the smile didn't reach her eyes, just as before, he noted with sadness.

~~~~

Frodo blinked, then squinted against the sunlight streaming into the room. "Unh," he groaned in protest as he rolled over to face away from the light. "Why does it feel like I'm hung over?" he complained to no one in particular.

"Because you are," replied a voice with more amusement than seemed necessary in Frodo's humble opinion.

"And why is that?" he questioned idly.

"Remember the brandy? You had quite a bit of it."

Frodo thought for a moment, then abandoned the attempt when he realized his brain was of no more use than a wad of cotton. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, in all fairness, you didn't. We were feeding it to you. But it was to make you feel better, I promise."

"If this is better, what was before?" Frodo grumbled half-heartedly.

"Trust me, you prefer this to the alternative."

"All right, all right," Frodo waved his arm in an attempt to get The Voice to stop. It was making his headache worse.

The Voice chuckled. "You should go back to sleep. You're cranky when you're hung over."

"I think I will..." Frodo murmured, already halfway there.

~~~~

Joram was most pleased by the gossip he overheard sweeping through the laundry room as the servants arrived and began the day's work. The stories differed, of course, depending on the teller and which portion of the tale they'd heard. Over the course of several hours, the task of information gathering complicated by his isolation in the small room off the main, he'd pieced together a rough approximation of how things went.

Two of the runts interrupted the King in negotiations yesterday, and the King left with them, was the word from one girl whose lover was soldier of the King's Guard. A steward for some of the ambassadors confided that his masters were disgruntled by the King's abandonment yesterday and his subsequent cancellation of all councils today. A cleaning maid saw 'that woman' flee the palace, seemingly in disgrace, and another reported the entire corridor to the halflings' room was heavily guarded and no one allowed past without the King's personal leave.

There was no word on a certain runt or how he fared, but Joram had to assume the King would guard that information closely, particularly if he'd succeeded. If the runt's death was known, it would likely the ambassadors into a panic, thinking an assassin was loose in the city. They would flee, abandoning all treaties and dooming the King's reign before it had really even begun.

Not only was he achieving his personal vengeance, by striking one so dear to the King, he had made a statement that could not be ignored.

~~~~

It was noon before Frodo awoke again, and that was with help. He was pulled-no, *dragged*-to consciousness by cheerful voices telling him he needed to wake and eat. He disagreed, but they were not to be ignored, so eventually he did just that, only so they would leave him alone. Merry and Pippin had done the waking, but Sam was in charge of the feeding, with Aragorn keeping a close eye on the amount consumed.

Several spoonfuls into the chicken broth, Frodo finally asked something that had been bothering him. "Where's Jael?" A silence fell over the room and Sam's grip on the spoon faltered, and it clattered into the bowl with a startling clink. He refused to meet Frodo's suspicious gaze, so Frodo turned his attention to the King. "Tell me, Aragorn," he demanded.

"I sent her home, Frodo," he admitted, meeting the hobbit's narrowed eyes levelly.

"Why?!" he asked incredulously.

"Remember how you were feeling last night?"

"Of course," he replied off-handedly.

"It was due to a very dangerous plant, given in that tea you drank. You were poisoned, Frodo. Someone tried to kill you."

"You cannot believe she is responsible!" he spluttered, taken aback by the revelation. "She would never want to hurt anyone!"

"I do not know for sure," the King admitted. "I am only being cautious until the truth can be found out. I hope you will forgive me for waiting to begin my investigation until I was convinced you would indeed recover," he finished ruefully.

"But why would you send her away?! Jael trying to kill me is as unlikely as Sam trying to kill me! I'm sure she would not have given me that tea if she knew what it contained. Oh, she must be devastated..." he trailed off with a horrified look. Then he turned to Aragorn, resolute. "Send for her. Bring her back."

"I am sorry, Frodo, but I cannot do that. She is at the moment the only possible culprit, and I cannot rule her out until suspicions fall on another. Once the matter is settled she may return." He held up a hand to halt the stream of objections sure to follow. "My decision is final."

"If you can seriously entertain the notion of Jael doing something like this to me, I have been wrong about your character all along." His voice dropped dangerously low and his eyes flashed angrily. Sam recognized the look, one of barely contained rage and fury, and he stayed safely out of the way, not certain what form his master's anger would take.

Aragorn frowned at Frodo's statement but said nothing, maintaining his calm demeanor even as the doubts multiplied in his head, along with concern for Frodo's health. He was still much too close to being seriously ill to exert himself so, but he knew the hobbit was a force to be reckoned with once he'd made up his mind on a matter.

"Fine," Frodo stated menacingly, crossing his arms defiantly in emphasis. "If you refuse to bring back the poor woman you have so wrongfully accused, you leave me no choice. Until you admit your error, I will refuse to let you tend me. I will take none of your medicines and not eat or drink anything you had a part in making," he resolved, glaring at the man as if daring him to back down.

Which he wasn't about to do. "Frodo, you are being extremely foolish," he replied, rising from the chair. "But if that is your decision, I shall respect it. My mind remains unchanged." He turned and strode from the room.

The other three hobbits stared at Frodo, astonished. Very rarely had any of them seen him become that angry, and none had anticipated this response! Demand Jael's return? Certainly. Reject Strider's care of him? Never.

They remained speechless for many minutes, afraid of bringing that wrath upon their own heads. Frodo turned his head to watch Aragorn depart, and now he turned back, closed his eyes, and sighed. Merry took that moment to look closely at his cousin and didn't like what he saw. Frodo had gone completely pale again, and his features sheened with perspiration as he tried to catch his breath from his outburst. He moved up Frodo's side to sit opposite Sam, and reached for one of the many clothes piled and shoved in any open space on the table. Patting his cousin's face dry, he ventured, "Frodo-"

"Don't," Frodo interrupted harshly. "I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it."

Merry exchanged a look with Sam, who nodded slightly. He continued in spite of Frodo's objection. "You know what I'm going to say? Then you shouldn't mind if I go ahead and say it. We agree with you about Jael. She wouldn't have done it."

Frodo opened his eyes and glanced at Merry, slightly surprised. He'd not quite expected that from him. What he'd been expecting came next.

"But Aragorn on the other hand... what were you thinking?! You need him, Frodo. You're not better yet."

Frodo sighed. "I know," he admitted. "I know... but he had no right to send her away for something she wouldn't do."

"He's trying to protect you and her," Merry argued.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Strider said whoever did this is trying to make her take the blame, so it's safer for her to be at 'ome."

"Whatever the case, I want her to know I don't blame her for what happened. Merry, Pippin, would you go find her and at least tell her that? Maybe... bring her back, to prove to Aragorn she didn't mean any harm..." he gave them a pleading look, and they reluctantly agreed to search the woman out.

~~~~

A half hour later, Aragorn peered into the room to find Sam puttering about and cleaning up, Frodo sleeping, and Merry and Pippin nowhere to be seen. "I expect Frodo is still angry with me," he commented as he entered.

"Aye. 'E's mighty irked that you could think her capable of such a thing. Sent Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin to find her, he did, to tell 'er he's all right and doesn't 'old it against her," Sam informed him as he finished emptying old kettles and pots out the window and went to pile up the linens.

"How thoughtful of him," the King murmured as he gazed thoughtfully at Frodo as he slept. He was interrupted in his examination by a startled gasp behind him; he turned to find Sam standing motionless, the linens he'd been carrying around his feet.

"You're nowt but a ninnyhammer, Sam Gamgee!" the gardener was scolding himself. "The Gaffer said it often enough. 'E's right, an' no mistake!"

"Sam?" Aragorn questioned uncertainly, not sure what he was going on about.

Sam spun around and said, "Th' barkeep! That nasty barkeep musta done it! I saw 'im drag the linens 'cross the table, messin' everythin' up. He coulda left those leaves!"

Now Aragorn understood him perfectly. "Joram..." he said thoughtfully. "It *is* certainly possible, and he is definitely the type of scoundrel to sell that plant to others... Sam, you must not tell anyone this," he instructed. "But I think you have just saved Jael." He smiled at the hobbit before turning on his heel and quickly exiting the room.



TBC