Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with Lord of the Rings.
A/N: My sincerest apologies for the appallingly long delay! I really will try to update more often from now on. I have been very busy. I know that that is no excuse, but sorry, it's true! Like I said, I hope to update more often from now on. If anyone has any questions, comments, concerns, ideas, etc. please contact me at samdro87@yahoo.com. I love getting e-mails, so don't hesitate if you have something to say! Thanks! Also, I would love to know what people most want to hear from this story, so let me know in your reviews and/or an e-mail! Thanks again to my lovely reviewers; I love you guys! And thanks for all the patience! And, now, what you really want to hear, the story! (as opposed to my babbling.) Hope you enjoy it!
***
The days continued on, and Frodo continued to become paler and paler, thinner and thinner. He refused to eat, and ran a high fever.
Sam sat with him often, and always staying near to his master when he rode the pony, hoping to assist in any way that he could.
But there was little anyone could do for Frodo. He was getting weaker every minute; every time the pony jostled him, or a swift wind blew and chilled him, or they stopped and he had to dismount, he felt just a little weaker, and just a little colder, and the effects did not slow or stop. There was nothing to be done to reverse the effects the wound and its poison was having on the hobbit; yet he showed much resilience in spite of things, and he kept on and did not complain, no matter how much pain he was in, or how cold he was.
Sam knew his master well, and could see that he was hiding his pain from the others. He therefore always did things for him even when not asked (for he never would be); he covered his master with thick, warm blankets, and tried to make him comfortable whenever possible.
It would seem as if the company would try to take more breaks the sicker Frodo got; but it was just the opposite; the more ill he became, the more Strider worried and encouraged the hobbits to press on. However, it was becoming more and more difficult for Frodo to handle the constant pace, and he often groaned involuntarily as the pony jostled him.
It was evening now, and Strider looked on anxiously as Sam tried to help Frodo down from the pony. The ill hobbit was trying his best to steady himself and get down with as little trouble as possible, but this was not really working in the least, and Sam, with his small size, was having difficulty.
Aragorn strode quietly over to where the two hobbits were struggling and, as gentle as anything, picked Frodo up in his large arms and cradled him gently.
"Come, Sam," he said softly, carrying the Ringbearer as easily as if he were a child and as gently as if that child were his own.
He proceeded to the fire, and lay the hobbit down beside it, motioning for the faithful gardener to fetch some blankets.
Frodo shivered on the ground, moaning softly. Feeling pity, Aragorn picked him up again, rocking him a bit, hoping the motion would help him to sleep. Sam returned with blankets, stopping in his tracks behind Strider's back, a little surprised to see the Ranger cradling Frodo like that. He had previously been a little afraid of Strider, though he had grown to trust him more and more, but he still considered him a bit rough. It surprised him to see the Ranger act so gentle and caring. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Samwise came up next to Aragorn and handed him the blankets.
Strider looked up and took them silently, wrapping the small hobbit in his arms with them. Then he turned to Sam.
"You are surprised?"
Sam almost jumped.
"Surprised?" he repeated.
"Yes," said Aragorn, with a hint of a smile, "surprised at me. You did not think that a Ranger could care, did you?"
Sam stared, startled that this man knew so much of his thoughts.
Strider smiled again, saying no more and wrapping the blankets a little tighter around Frodo as he shivered.
Sam knelt and put his hand at Frodo's forehead. Still hot. Frowning, he looked at Aragorn.
The Ranger looked back steadily for a moment, then turned his eyes back to his ill charge. He sighed.
"We must get him to Rivendell soon," he said quietly.
"How much longer until we reach the Elven-land?" Sam asked.
"Days," the man replied sadly. "I am actually surprised he made it this far, to tell you the truth. I don't know how much longer he can keep on. That is why we must hurry, despite his pain." He sighed again.
Sam said nothing for a moment.
"We hobbits are made of stronger stuff than most people reckon, Mr. Strider," he said after a pause. "Frodo especially; more than most, I should say. I worry about him, but I know he can make it there. He has to, and he knows it. If anyone can survive this, it's him, Mr. Strider. You may not believe me. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't; seein' as how small he is. But size doesn't have nottin' to do with it, contrary to what most people are thinkin' these days. But we hobbits; we're tough, sir, if you catch my meaning."
Sam looked at Aragorn to see his response to the hobbit's sudden speech. He was surprised to see him smiling.
"I believe it, Sam," he said. "It is just as Gandalf always told me; he always said that there was more to hobbits than met the eye!" He laughed. "Everyone says they're quiet, pusillanimous folk, and never do anything interesting, but what I've seen of hobbits so far is quite contrary to that."
Frodo moaned in his sleep just then, and the two traveler's attention turned instantly back to the ill lad. He still slept, but his cheeks were flushed and he groaned softly. Strider sighed.
"All the same…" he started, but cut himself off. Sam swallowed.
The night wore on, and Sam made a decision. From now on, he would trust Aragorn.
A/N: My sincerest apologies for the appallingly long delay! I really will try to update more often from now on. I have been very busy. I know that that is no excuse, but sorry, it's true! Like I said, I hope to update more often from now on. If anyone has any questions, comments, concerns, ideas, etc. please contact me at samdro87@yahoo.com. I love getting e-mails, so don't hesitate if you have something to say! Thanks! Also, I would love to know what people most want to hear from this story, so let me know in your reviews and/or an e-mail! Thanks again to my lovely reviewers; I love you guys! And thanks for all the patience! And, now, what you really want to hear, the story! (as opposed to my babbling.) Hope you enjoy it!
***
The days continued on, and Frodo continued to become paler and paler, thinner and thinner. He refused to eat, and ran a high fever.
Sam sat with him often, and always staying near to his master when he rode the pony, hoping to assist in any way that he could.
But there was little anyone could do for Frodo. He was getting weaker every minute; every time the pony jostled him, or a swift wind blew and chilled him, or they stopped and he had to dismount, he felt just a little weaker, and just a little colder, and the effects did not slow or stop. There was nothing to be done to reverse the effects the wound and its poison was having on the hobbit; yet he showed much resilience in spite of things, and he kept on and did not complain, no matter how much pain he was in, or how cold he was.
Sam knew his master well, and could see that he was hiding his pain from the others. He therefore always did things for him even when not asked (for he never would be); he covered his master with thick, warm blankets, and tried to make him comfortable whenever possible.
It would seem as if the company would try to take more breaks the sicker Frodo got; but it was just the opposite; the more ill he became, the more Strider worried and encouraged the hobbits to press on. However, it was becoming more and more difficult for Frodo to handle the constant pace, and he often groaned involuntarily as the pony jostled him.
It was evening now, and Strider looked on anxiously as Sam tried to help Frodo down from the pony. The ill hobbit was trying his best to steady himself and get down with as little trouble as possible, but this was not really working in the least, and Sam, with his small size, was having difficulty.
Aragorn strode quietly over to where the two hobbits were struggling and, as gentle as anything, picked Frodo up in his large arms and cradled him gently.
"Come, Sam," he said softly, carrying the Ringbearer as easily as if he were a child and as gently as if that child were his own.
He proceeded to the fire, and lay the hobbit down beside it, motioning for the faithful gardener to fetch some blankets.
Frodo shivered on the ground, moaning softly. Feeling pity, Aragorn picked him up again, rocking him a bit, hoping the motion would help him to sleep. Sam returned with blankets, stopping in his tracks behind Strider's back, a little surprised to see the Ranger cradling Frodo like that. He had previously been a little afraid of Strider, though he had grown to trust him more and more, but he still considered him a bit rough. It surprised him to see the Ranger act so gentle and caring. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Samwise came up next to Aragorn and handed him the blankets.
Strider looked up and took them silently, wrapping the small hobbit in his arms with them. Then he turned to Sam.
"You are surprised?"
Sam almost jumped.
"Surprised?" he repeated.
"Yes," said Aragorn, with a hint of a smile, "surprised at me. You did not think that a Ranger could care, did you?"
Sam stared, startled that this man knew so much of his thoughts.
Strider smiled again, saying no more and wrapping the blankets a little tighter around Frodo as he shivered.
Sam knelt and put his hand at Frodo's forehead. Still hot. Frowning, he looked at Aragorn.
The Ranger looked back steadily for a moment, then turned his eyes back to his ill charge. He sighed.
"We must get him to Rivendell soon," he said quietly.
"How much longer until we reach the Elven-land?" Sam asked.
"Days," the man replied sadly. "I am actually surprised he made it this far, to tell you the truth. I don't know how much longer he can keep on. That is why we must hurry, despite his pain." He sighed again.
Sam said nothing for a moment.
"We hobbits are made of stronger stuff than most people reckon, Mr. Strider," he said after a pause. "Frodo especially; more than most, I should say. I worry about him, but I know he can make it there. He has to, and he knows it. If anyone can survive this, it's him, Mr. Strider. You may not believe me. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't; seein' as how small he is. But size doesn't have nottin' to do with it, contrary to what most people are thinkin' these days. But we hobbits; we're tough, sir, if you catch my meaning."
Sam looked at Aragorn to see his response to the hobbit's sudden speech. He was surprised to see him smiling.
"I believe it, Sam," he said. "It is just as Gandalf always told me; he always said that there was more to hobbits than met the eye!" He laughed. "Everyone says they're quiet, pusillanimous folk, and never do anything interesting, but what I've seen of hobbits so far is quite contrary to that."
Frodo moaned in his sleep just then, and the two traveler's attention turned instantly back to the ill lad. He still slept, but his cheeks were flushed and he groaned softly. Strider sighed.
"All the same…" he started, but cut himself off. Sam swallowed.
The night wore on, and Sam made a decision. From now on, he would trust Aragorn.