All Creatures Great and Small
Chapter 4
Disclaimer: I do not own, no ever will own characters that belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Merry runs after his cousin, Frodo, discovering his concern for his cousins. On their way back to camp, curiosity gets the best of them and into trouble.
How long has it been since Merry left, Frodo thought to himself. They had not journeyed far and must have been halfway back to camp before they stopped to help that...Frodo reflected on the beauty of the creature. It was almost like an Elf, but it was not. He had hair the same color as the rain curtain in his dream. How it shimmered and reflected teh light like Mithril. Mithril? Bilbo gave him Mithril. A Mithril vest to protect him. It did not, however, protect his leg and hand. Oh, how his back ached. What he would not give just to straighted his back. Frodo looked at his injuries. The big ugly arrows protruding from his hand and thigh. Like some prize stuck pig. The intense pain had dulled, almost numb. If he just kept still he could keep the pain at bay he reminded himself. Frodo could not keep his eyes opened any longer. He felt cold, even though the sun was filtering through, warming his cloak. He let himself drift back off to sleep. It was more comfortable in the darkness.
~~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~~
" I asked you a question," the authoritative voice reverated between the two men's ears as they held onto Merry.
Larson turned his head carefully as he knew the presence of a sword poised at his jawline. The sun glinted off the metal catching him the eye as he squinted up at the man. "What's it to ya?" he stated,not too smart of choosing his words carefully.
Aragorn looked at the man. A farmer he concluded by the man's attire, noticing no weapons upon him, he still kept up his guard and answered, "He is a friend of ours. I would advise you to let him go".
"Strider!" Merry frantically gathered himself up onto his feet, making his way over to the Ranger's side pulling onto the Ranger's coat.
Bartholomew found that he was covered by an arrow aimed for his heart. He had not dared to look up until now to see that the person brandishing this weapon was no man, but an Elf. Bart slowly rose his arms in the air to let his captor know he was unarmed and not going to make trouble.
"I will not ask you again, why were you chasing my friend and take him to whom?" Aragorn demanded again, making his point clear as the blade pushed a little into the soft flesh.
"Strider!" Merry cried, trying to get Aragorn's attention, still tugging on his coat. Aragorn was ignoring him until his questioned was answered.
"We are farmers," Bartholomew volunteered. "We saw this...this," Bartholomew was lost for words gesturing towards Merry, "child? He was running away from our traps. We did not want him to spoil them".
Merry stopped tugging on Aragorn's coat when he had heard the confession. "You set them?" his voice rising, "How could you do this to another living being. YOU!" Merry held a glimmer of hatred in his eyes, unbecoming of the upbringing of being a gentlehobbit. If his cousin could see him Merry thought, Frodo would not approve, but Frodo could not see him because these men created traps to harm others. His cousin had been snared and could be dying. Merry leapt at the men. Before he could get one step further, Aragorn had grabbed Merry's coat. At the Ranger's surprise, he found himself straining muscles holding this hobbit back from doing harm to these men.
"Merry, what has happened?" Legolas asked this time. He still kept his arrow trained on the farmers, but he also had noticed that Merry was by himself. The question arose to the whereabouts of Frodo.
Somehow, Aragorn had come to the same conclusion as the Elf. Steadying Merry, he got down on knee level and peered into the hobbits face. As he peered closely, Aragorn noted blood on Merry's face. "Merry, are you hurt?" he queried the hobbit. Merry shook his head. Tears were starting to well in those green orbs.
"No. This is Frodo's blood," he cried.
"Merry, where is Frodo?" Aragorn asked as calmly as he could.
Merry sniffed and slowly raised his left arm, pointing back into the direction the men confessed of laying traps.
Aragorn's heart stopped, just briefly. He rose, sheathing his sword. He grabbed Bartholomew roughly by the arm and directed him towards the grove of trees. "Show us, now!" he commanded. Legolas gestured to Larson to follow, as he placed the arrow back into his pack and ran with his bow at his side. Merry was leading the pack as fast he could, his padded feet running across the forest floor pounding to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
~~~~~*******~~~~~~~
Merry was the first to enter through the trees, followed by the men, Aragorn then Legolas. Merry was wringing his hands as Aragorn looked at the surrounding area. The rope net that lay on the ground after Frodo had cut it. The homemade crossbows that were once hidden by leaves, now exposed, their ammunition dispensed.
Merry stopped just to the side of the fallen net, looking up, pointed his stubby finger to a cloaked figure straddling a tree branch.
"Oh, Elbereth," Legolas breathed.
Aragorn's mouth dropped open, appalled eyes taking in the sight of the small form in the tree, punctured with arrows. Anger and fear surged within Aragorn as he raced to the tree holding Frodo prisoner. Using this adrenaline to his advantage, the Ranger of the North leaped up grasping the lowest branch, gaining momentum swinging his legs over his head landing firmly on the branch. He began scaling the tree branch by branch until he reached the one Frodo was straddling.
Legolas and Merry watched with anxious eyes as Aragorn inched his way to Frodo's still form. "Merry what happened?" Legolas asked.
"The traps on the ground are aimed for the tree. He has been struck by both the arrows. The first one let go when Frodo released the net. The second," he paused, then continued, "the second was my fault. I accidently set it off, also hitting him," Merry tried to explain.
Bartholomew had tears in his eyes as he looked on. "We did not mean any harm. Our farms are constantly being raided by a band of Orcs. We would not survive the winter. One day, the leader said if we could capture one of them silver haired creatures, they would leave us and our families alone. We did not mean any harm, honest!" he repeated.
Aragorn finally closed the distance between him and Frodo. As Aragorn stroked the dirt tear streaked face, the faintest sigh escaped Frodo's dry cracked lips.
"Tithen min?" Aragorn whispered as he gently placed his fingertips just below the jawline feeling for the pulse of life. He breathed a sigh of relief as the vessel pulsed strongly under his fingers. Upon Aragorns observations, he noticed that a thin arrow was indeed piercing through the back of Frodo's hand, crusted blood around the shaft. The second arrow was slightly thicker, penetrating the hobbits thigh. He felt around the left leg and found no broken bones. A slight moan escaped from Frodo as he applied pressure to the injured leg. "Oh, Elbereth, help him," Aragorn prayed.
"He is still unconcious. I will have to break the shafts," he called down to the anxious party. With his left hand, Aragorn firmly grasped the shaft imbedded in Frodo's hand quickly, snapping it off letting it fall from his hand. Frodo stirred. The Ranger waited a moment before proceeding to the next step. He then slipped his big hand under Frodo's fingers making his way towards the palm. He then took a deep breath and forced the appendage away from its resting place on the branch slipping it off the broken shaft.
Frodo thought he had heard a voice. A familiar voice. Was it Aragorn? Maybe. Merry was supposed to be going to get help. He did not want to wake, just to stay in teh comfort of teh darkness. Then he felt a soft touch cross his cheek. Like his mothers. When he was very young she would caress his cheek when she wanted to soothe him. Now more than ever, he wanted to stay in teh darkness. It was not to last.
Frodo bolted upright, screaming out in pain, his blue eyes wide. The pain was like fire rushing up, engulfing his body, not being able to breathe. Panting hard through the pain, he brouht his injured hand to his chest protecting it under his right armpit. It did not hit him right away that his hand was no longer pinned to the tree. His eyes finally came into focus, his muddled mind coming to reality.
"Shh...Frodo. I am sorry to hurt you," the familiar voice spoke while rubbing his back.
Frodo sagged backwards, finally able to stretch his back, when he saw Aragorn's face loom over his. As his hard painting subsided to weak whimpers, he tried to speak through parched lips, "Ara...gorn? I m sor...ry," he managed. Aragorn nodded, brushing the sweat drenched curls from Frodo's forehead. Frodo's eyes furrowed and asked,"where are we?"
Aragorn thought for a minute and answered,"You are still in the tree. Or do you not remember?"
"I 'member," He slurred. "Just wanted to know if you knew where we were?"
Aragorn shook his head. It amazed him that in this situation, Frodo could find light of it and jest. He and his fellow hobbits were most amazing, and he was glad to know them. "We need to get you down. This is going to be most painful," he told Frodo as he peeled off his glove, folding it in half then putting it to Frodo's mouth. "Bite down,Frodo."
Frodo's eyes widened, but he took the glove into his mouth biting down, sweat forming on his brow anticipating the pain. A vibration reverated through his thigh as Aragorn broke the shaft to the arrow in his thigh. Frodo's hand caught up in his cloak, clutching the fabric tightly. His nares flaring, while trying to mouth breath around the glove in his mouth. He sagged again as the pain subsided, his hands releasing the fabric.
"Frodo, you need to lean forward, as I try to slide your leg off the shaft," Aragorn explained. Reluctantly, Frodo leaned forward as far as he could, and for the first time seen his cousin below him with Legolas at his side. He tried to smile, to let his cousin know that he was all right. He did not know if Merry would even see with this big glove in his mouth. After what seemed a long time for Aragorn to get in position he felt a hand on his thigh and a voice whispering in his ear, "I will be quick."
Aragorn felt bad, that he had caused more pain to the Ring-bearer. He peered one last time at Frodo's face before continuing, noticing how blanche he had become. Aragorn the healer detached himself stating that this was necessary. In one quick motion, grabbed the small leg and slid it as fast as he could off the broken shaft, rotating Frodo's hip upward. The limb hung lifeless off the branch. Frodo bit down hard, leaving teeth impressions in Aragorn's glove. The pain shot through the little body causing involuntary spasms. Frodo lost the glove from his mouth and a loud wail echoed throughout the grove towards the camp. The Ranger had manuevered Frodo to a cradling position, being careful not to jostle the limp leg. Blood flowed freely now, and he had to get him to the ground quickly to staunch the wound. Aragorn swaddled his cloak about the sobbing hobbit, applying pressure to the wound. He was amazed at the level of pain this hobbit could endure, wishing to himself that unconciousness would claim him soon. If he was awake when he staunched the wound, no telling if Frodo would be able to bear it. As he looked around for a way down, Legolas suddenly appeared.
"I can manage him. Let me take him," Legolas held out his arms awaiting the bundle. Frodo was placed in Legolas's arm, seated on his hip, head resting on Legolas's shoulder. With one hand, Legolas seemed to float down from limb to limb until he reached bottom. Gently, he placed Frodo on the forest floor, letting Merry touch him to make sure he was all there.
Aragorn soon made it to the ground and began his thorough examination. Looking for something to bind Frodo's leg, he spied Merry's sword belt. "Merry, I need your belt to stop the blood," Aragorn asked. Merry complied, taking the belt off hurriedly, handing it to Aragorn. With the belt tied tightly above the bleeding wound, Aragorn once again scooped Frodo into his arms making way to camp.
tbc
After what seemed like a long moment, Frodo felt a hand on his thigh, then Aragorn's voice in his ear whispering,"It will be quick."
Disclaimer: I do not own, no ever will own characters that belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Merry runs after his cousin, Frodo, discovering his concern for his cousins. On their way back to camp, curiosity gets the best of them and into trouble.
How long has it been since Merry left, Frodo thought to himself. They had not journeyed far and must have been halfway back to camp before they stopped to help that...Frodo reflected on the beauty of the creature. It was almost like an Elf, but it was not. He had hair the same color as the rain curtain in his dream. How it shimmered and reflected teh light like Mithril. Mithril? Bilbo gave him Mithril. A Mithril vest to protect him. It did not, however, protect his leg and hand. Oh, how his back ached. What he would not give just to straighted his back. Frodo looked at his injuries. The big ugly arrows protruding from his hand and thigh. Like some prize stuck pig. The intense pain had dulled, almost numb. If he just kept still he could keep the pain at bay he reminded himself. Frodo could not keep his eyes opened any longer. He felt cold, even though the sun was filtering through, warming his cloak. He let himself drift back off to sleep. It was more comfortable in the darkness.
~~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~~
" I asked you a question," the authoritative voice reverated between the two men's ears as they held onto Merry.
Larson turned his head carefully as he knew the presence of a sword poised at his jawline. The sun glinted off the metal catching him the eye as he squinted up at the man. "What's it to ya?" he stated,not too smart of choosing his words carefully.
Aragorn looked at the man. A farmer he concluded by the man's attire, noticing no weapons upon him, he still kept up his guard and answered, "He is a friend of ours. I would advise you to let him go".
"Strider!" Merry frantically gathered himself up onto his feet, making his way over to the Ranger's side pulling onto the Ranger's coat.
Bartholomew found that he was covered by an arrow aimed for his heart. He had not dared to look up until now to see that the person brandishing this weapon was no man, but an Elf. Bart slowly rose his arms in the air to let his captor know he was unarmed and not going to make trouble.
"I will not ask you again, why were you chasing my friend and take him to whom?" Aragorn demanded again, making his point clear as the blade pushed a little into the soft flesh.
"Strider!" Merry cried, trying to get Aragorn's attention, still tugging on his coat. Aragorn was ignoring him until his questioned was answered.
"We are farmers," Bartholomew volunteered. "We saw this...this," Bartholomew was lost for words gesturing towards Merry, "child? He was running away from our traps. We did not want him to spoil them".
Merry stopped tugging on Aragorn's coat when he had heard the confession. "You set them?" his voice rising, "How could you do this to another living being. YOU!" Merry held a glimmer of hatred in his eyes, unbecoming of the upbringing of being a gentlehobbit. If his cousin could see him Merry thought, Frodo would not approve, but Frodo could not see him because these men created traps to harm others. His cousin had been snared and could be dying. Merry leapt at the men. Before he could get one step further, Aragorn had grabbed Merry's coat. At the Ranger's surprise, he found himself straining muscles holding this hobbit back from doing harm to these men.
"Merry, what has happened?" Legolas asked this time. He still kept his arrow trained on the farmers, but he also had noticed that Merry was by himself. The question arose to the whereabouts of Frodo.
Somehow, Aragorn had come to the same conclusion as the Elf. Steadying Merry, he got down on knee level and peered into the hobbits face. As he peered closely, Aragorn noted blood on Merry's face. "Merry, are you hurt?" he queried the hobbit. Merry shook his head. Tears were starting to well in those green orbs.
"No. This is Frodo's blood," he cried.
"Merry, where is Frodo?" Aragorn asked as calmly as he could.
Merry sniffed and slowly raised his left arm, pointing back into the direction the men confessed of laying traps.
Aragorn's heart stopped, just briefly. He rose, sheathing his sword. He grabbed Bartholomew roughly by the arm and directed him towards the grove of trees. "Show us, now!" he commanded. Legolas gestured to Larson to follow, as he placed the arrow back into his pack and ran with his bow at his side. Merry was leading the pack as fast he could, his padded feet running across the forest floor pounding to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
~~~~~*******~~~~~~~
Merry was the first to enter through the trees, followed by the men, Aragorn then Legolas. Merry was wringing his hands as Aragorn looked at the surrounding area. The rope net that lay on the ground after Frodo had cut it. The homemade crossbows that were once hidden by leaves, now exposed, their ammunition dispensed.
Merry stopped just to the side of the fallen net, looking up, pointed his stubby finger to a cloaked figure straddling a tree branch.
"Oh, Elbereth," Legolas breathed.
Aragorn's mouth dropped open, appalled eyes taking in the sight of the small form in the tree, punctured with arrows. Anger and fear surged within Aragorn as he raced to the tree holding Frodo prisoner. Using this adrenaline to his advantage, the Ranger of the North leaped up grasping the lowest branch, gaining momentum swinging his legs over his head landing firmly on the branch. He began scaling the tree branch by branch until he reached the one Frodo was straddling.
Legolas and Merry watched with anxious eyes as Aragorn inched his way to Frodo's still form. "Merry what happened?" Legolas asked.
"The traps on the ground are aimed for the tree. He has been struck by both the arrows. The first one let go when Frodo released the net. The second," he paused, then continued, "the second was my fault. I accidently set it off, also hitting him," Merry tried to explain.
Bartholomew had tears in his eyes as he looked on. "We did not mean any harm. Our farms are constantly being raided by a band of Orcs. We would not survive the winter. One day, the leader said if we could capture one of them silver haired creatures, they would leave us and our families alone. We did not mean any harm, honest!" he repeated.
Aragorn finally closed the distance between him and Frodo. As Aragorn stroked the dirt tear streaked face, the faintest sigh escaped Frodo's dry cracked lips.
"Tithen min?" Aragorn whispered as he gently placed his fingertips just below the jawline feeling for the pulse of life. He breathed a sigh of relief as the vessel pulsed strongly under his fingers. Upon Aragorns observations, he noticed that a thin arrow was indeed piercing through the back of Frodo's hand, crusted blood around the shaft. The second arrow was slightly thicker, penetrating the hobbits thigh. He felt around the left leg and found no broken bones. A slight moan escaped from Frodo as he applied pressure to the injured leg. "Oh, Elbereth, help him," Aragorn prayed.
"He is still unconcious. I will have to break the shafts," he called down to the anxious party. With his left hand, Aragorn firmly grasped the shaft imbedded in Frodo's hand quickly, snapping it off letting it fall from his hand. Frodo stirred. The Ranger waited a moment before proceeding to the next step. He then slipped his big hand under Frodo's fingers making his way towards the palm. He then took a deep breath and forced the appendage away from its resting place on the branch slipping it off the broken shaft.
Frodo thought he had heard a voice. A familiar voice. Was it Aragorn? Maybe. Merry was supposed to be going to get help. He did not want to wake, just to stay in teh comfort of teh darkness. Then he felt a soft touch cross his cheek. Like his mothers. When he was very young she would caress his cheek when she wanted to soothe him. Now more than ever, he wanted to stay in teh darkness. It was not to last.
Frodo bolted upright, screaming out in pain, his blue eyes wide. The pain was like fire rushing up, engulfing his body, not being able to breathe. Panting hard through the pain, he brouht his injured hand to his chest protecting it under his right armpit. It did not hit him right away that his hand was no longer pinned to the tree. His eyes finally came into focus, his muddled mind coming to reality.
"Shh...Frodo. I am sorry to hurt you," the familiar voice spoke while rubbing his back.
Frodo sagged backwards, finally able to stretch his back, when he saw Aragorn's face loom over his. As his hard painting subsided to weak whimpers, he tried to speak through parched lips, "Ara...gorn? I m sor...ry," he managed. Aragorn nodded, brushing the sweat drenched curls from Frodo's forehead. Frodo's eyes furrowed and asked,"where are we?"
Aragorn thought for a minute and answered,"You are still in the tree. Or do you not remember?"
"I 'member," He slurred. "Just wanted to know if you knew where we were?"
Aragorn shook his head. It amazed him that in this situation, Frodo could find light of it and jest. He and his fellow hobbits were most amazing, and he was glad to know them. "We need to get you down. This is going to be most painful," he told Frodo as he peeled off his glove, folding it in half then putting it to Frodo's mouth. "Bite down,Frodo."
Frodo's eyes widened, but he took the glove into his mouth biting down, sweat forming on his brow anticipating the pain. A vibration reverated through his thigh as Aragorn broke the shaft to the arrow in his thigh. Frodo's hand caught up in his cloak, clutching the fabric tightly. His nares flaring, while trying to mouth breath around the glove in his mouth. He sagged again as the pain subsided, his hands releasing the fabric.
"Frodo, you need to lean forward, as I try to slide your leg off the shaft," Aragorn explained. Reluctantly, Frodo leaned forward as far as he could, and for the first time seen his cousin below him with Legolas at his side. He tried to smile, to let his cousin know that he was all right. He did not know if Merry would even see with this big glove in his mouth. After what seemed a long time for Aragorn to get in position he felt a hand on his thigh and a voice whispering in his ear, "I will be quick."
Aragorn felt bad, that he had caused more pain to the Ring-bearer. He peered one last time at Frodo's face before continuing, noticing how blanche he had become. Aragorn the healer detached himself stating that this was necessary. In one quick motion, grabbed the small leg and slid it as fast as he could off the broken shaft, rotating Frodo's hip upward. The limb hung lifeless off the branch. Frodo bit down hard, leaving teeth impressions in Aragorn's glove. The pain shot through the little body causing involuntary spasms. Frodo lost the glove from his mouth and a loud wail echoed throughout the grove towards the camp. The Ranger had manuevered Frodo to a cradling position, being careful not to jostle the limp leg. Blood flowed freely now, and he had to get him to the ground quickly to staunch the wound. Aragorn swaddled his cloak about the sobbing hobbit, applying pressure to the wound. He was amazed at the level of pain this hobbit could endure, wishing to himself that unconciousness would claim him soon. If he was awake when he staunched the wound, no telling if Frodo would be able to bear it. As he looked around for a way down, Legolas suddenly appeared.
"I can manage him. Let me take him," Legolas held out his arms awaiting the bundle. Frodo was placed in Legolas's arm, seated on his hip, head resting on Legolas's shoulder. With one hand, Legolas seemed to float down from limb to limb until he reached bottom. Gently, he placed Frodo on the forest floor, letting Merry touch him to make sure he was all there.
Aragorn soon made it to the ground and began his thorough examination. Looking for something to bind Frodo's leg, he spied Merry's sword belt. "Merry, I need your belt to stop the blood," Aragorn asked. Merry complied, taking the belt off hurriedly, handing it to Aragorn. With the belt tied tightly above the bleeding wound, Aragorn once again scooped Frodo into his arms making way to camp.
tbc
After what seemed like a long moment, Frodo felt a hand on his thigh, then Aragorn's voice in his ear whispering,"It will be quick."