Disclaimer: I do not own anything at all affiliated with Lord of the Rings
or J.R.R Tolkien. This story is purely fanfiction, intended only to do
justice to Tokien's work and not in any way jeopardize it.
After breakfast, everyone in the camp began packing up to move on. Frodo lay by the fire, wishing he could help, but knowing that he was too weak. Strider had told him not to even try today; he was going to be needing all of his strength for the miles ahead.
Frodo closed his eyes and tried to get in a few extra minutes of sleep. It was not long, however, before Sam was tugging at his sleeve, whispering his name and telling him that everything was ready, so that they might leave.
Frodo suppressed a groan as he opened his eyes (which took far too much effort) and began to get up.
Sam supported Frodo's back as the hobbit struggled to his feet, finally making it up as Strider poured a bucket of water over the fire. Sam picked up the displaced blankets upon the ground and wrapped them about Frodo's shoulders, and helped his master over to the pony.
Frodo didn't much want to ride, feeling very guilty about his comfort (which was actually, in truth, not at all comfortable) while the rest walked. In truth, he knew that he could not walk, but that just made him feel worse still- it seemed to him that it was his own fault that he had been injured, and that now not only was he paying the price but his friends as well.
Strider cupped his hands and Frodo stepped into them to mount the pony, while Sam helped him into the saddle. When he was situated, they set off, each traveler besides Frodo carrying luggage upon their backs. Frodo ached to see young Pippin struggling with a heavy pack full of rations. He was about to ask if someone might help the poor fellow, because no one seemed to notice his difficulties, when he saw his young cousin look left, then right, and then attempt to lighten is load a bit by stealing an apple out of the pack. Frodo smiled as Pippin fell back a bit and ate the piece of fruit at record speed, throwing the core into the woods with a furtive glance at the others to see if anyone had seen him commit this felony. He laid eyes on Frodo, who sat smiling at him from his mount. Pippin looked terribly guilty.
Frodo motioned for him to come closer.
"Mighty smooth, there," he whispered. "For once, you weren't caught." He laughed. "Well, not by anyone that would tell, anyways."
Pippin smiled, then laughed.
"Thanks, Frodo," he said quietly. "I promise I won't dare eat any more. I know we need to ration our food, it's just…"
"I know Pippin. You and that hollow leg of yours! Here, that pack must be heavy. Why don't you put it up here for awhile?" He motioned towards the extra space in front of him on the saddle.
"Well, if you don't mind…"
"I don't, or I wouldn't have offered!"
Pippin grinned and swiftly swung the pack onto the saddle.
"Pippin!" called Merry. "What on Middle-Earth are you doing? Pick up your pack and come on!"
Pippin glanced up at Frodo.
"I told him he could put it here for awhile," Frodo said, but he was so weak that his voice was hardly audible, and Merry had to fall back next to the pony and lean close so that Frodo might say it again.
When he had, Merry sniffed.
"Pippin can carry his own weight," he said, and motioned for the youngest hobbit to take up his pack.
Pippin sighed and, with a "thank-you-anyways" sort of look at Frodo, hurried forward to catch up with his cousin.
Frodo was watching poor Pip struggle along again when, thankfully, he saw Sam pull him aside and, when no one was looking, switch packs with him. Sam's pack had nothing but blankets in it, and was a whole lot lighter than the rations pack. Besides that, Sam was both older and larger than Pippin, and also much more used to work, having helped the Gaffer in the gardens all his life, where he had to do work much more excruciating than carrying a pack.
Frodo was grateful for this, and smiled at Sam when the hobbit turned his head to check on his master.
Eventually, the travelers stopped for a brief lunch at about one o clock, much to the poor hobbit's disliking. They all agreed that three meals a day was just not enough, especially with the meager rations they were getting. They all got a bit more today, however, because Frodo again refused to eat, much to all the other's concern. Frodo had always been thin and pale, but now he was like a ghost all-around, and Sam wondered aloud to Merry when they went to a nearby stream for water whether his master would not waste away to nothing. Merry had indeed had no reply, but secretly thought that he might, if they did not get him help soon.
After breakfast, everyone in the camp began packing up to move on. Frodo lay by the fire, wishing he could help, but knowing that he was too weak. Strider had told him not to even try today; he was going to be needing all of his strength for the miles ahead.
Frodo closed his eyes and tried to get in a few extra minutes of sleep. It was not long, however, before Sam was tugging at his sleeve, whispering his name and telling him that everything was ready, so that they might leave.
Frodo suppressed a groan as he opened his eyes (which took far too much effort) and began to get up.
Sam supported Frodo's back as the hobbit struggled to his feet, finally making it up as Strider poured a bucket of water over the fire. Sam picked up the displaced blankets upon the ground and wrapped them about Frodo's shoulders, and helped his master over to the pony.
Frodo didn't much want to ride, feeling very guilty about his comfort (which was actually, in truth, not at all comfortable) while the rest walked. In truth, he knew that he could not walk, but that just made him feel worse still- it seemed to him that it was his own fault that he had been injured, and that now not only was he paying the price but his friends as well.
Strider cupped his hands and Frodo stepped into them to mount the pony, while Sam helped him into the saddle. When he was situated, they set off, each traveler besides Frodo carrying luggage upon their backs. Frodo ached to see young Pippin struggling with a heavy pack full of rations. He was about to ask if someone might help the poor fellow, because no one seemed to notice his difficulties, when he saw his young cousin look left, then right, and then attempt to lighten is load a bit by stealing an apple out of the pack. Frodo smiled as Pippin fell back a bit and ate the piece of fruit at record speed, throwing the core into the woods with a furtive glance at the others to see if anyone had seen him commit this felony. He laid eyes on Frodo, who sat smiling at him from his mount. Pippin looked terribly guilty.
Frodo motioned for him to come closer.
"Mighty smooth, there," he whispered. "For once, you weren't caught." He laughed. "Well, not by anyone that would tell, anyways."
Pippin smiled, then laughed.
"Thanks, Frodo," he said quietly. "I promise I won't dare eat any more. I know we need to ration our food, it's just…"
"I know Pippin. You and that hollow leg of yours! Here, that pack must be heavy. Why don't you put it up here for awhile?" He motioned towards the extra space in front of him on the saddle.
"Well, if you don't mind…"
"I don't, or I wouldn't have offered!"
Pippin grinned and swiftly swung the pack onto the saddle.
"Pippin!" called Merry. "What on Middle-Earth are you doing? Pick up your pack and come on!"
Pippin glanced up at Frodo.
"I told him he could put it here for awhile," Frodo said, but he was so weak that his voice was hardly audible, and Merry had to fall back next to the pony and lean close so that Frodo might say it again.
When he had, Merry sniffed.
"Pippin can carry his own weight," he said, and motioned for the youngest hobbit to take up his pack.
Pippin sighed and, with a "thank-you-anyways" sort of look at Frodo, hurried forward to catch up with his cousin.
Frodo was watching poor Pip struggle along again when, thankfully, he saw Sam pull him aside and, when no one was looking, switch packs with him. Sam's pack had nothing but blankets in it, and was a whole lot lighter than the rations pack. Besides that, Sam was both older and larger than Pippin, and also much more used to work, having helped the Gaffer in the gardens all his life, where he had to do work much more excruciating than carrying a pack.
Frodo was grateful for this, and smiled at Sam when the hobbit turned his head to check on his master.
Eventually, the travelers stopped for a brief lunch at about one o clock, much to the poor hobbit's disliking. They all agreed that three meals a day was just not enough, especially with the meager rations they were getting. They all got a bit more today, however, because Frodo again refused to eat, much to all the other's concern. Frodo had always been thin and pale, but now he was like a ghost all-around, and Sam wondered aloud to Merry when they went to a nearby stream for water whether his master would not waste away to nothing. Merry had indeed had no reply, but secretly thought that he might, if they did not get him help soon.