Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.R.R.
Tolkien. I just put them in these stories.
Thank you to all who reviewed and hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Aragorn will be tending to Frodo, then we will find out in the next chapter who the "Silver" people are. Without further adieu, let us begin.
Chapter 5
When the wail resonated throughout the woods, two pairs of hobbit ears perked as they recognized the pain filled cry of one of their own. Sam quickly rose to his full height, even though it was only 3foot 6inches, determined he was going through Gimli and his lethal ax. As he started for the path, he felt a hand tug at his coat. Looking down, he found himself staring into Pippins tired red glassy eyes. He sat back down beside Frodo's cousin. "Mr. Pippin, I've got to go. You know that was Mr. Frodo," Sam said as he had recognized the same agonized scream when his master had been stabbed on Weathertop.
"I know," the youngster said then looking up with his tearing puppy eyes asking," but what about Merry? Where is he?"
Before he could answer a shadow fell over them. Sam looked up to see Gandalf standing over them.
Gandalf's old bones creaked as he lowered himself down to sit upon the same log bringing him to their eye level. "Samwise, Frodo will be found. Aragorn will return with him and Merry, " emphasizing the last name as he looked fondly at Pippin. "We cannot afford for anyone else to go missing. This Fellowship has already been delayed when we came back down the mountain," he spoke having a complacement hand on Sam's shoulder all the while.
"Gandalf, you heard that scream, you know it to be Mr. Frodo. He's in trouble!" Sam declared a little too harshly. As a rush of heat rose in his cheeks, Sam bowed his head as he soon realized he just stepped out of bounds for a servant. "Forgive me, Gandalf," he spoke sitting back down on the log.
"It is all right, Samwise. No offense taken. It is good to know that Frodo has indeed a such a dedicated friend in you," Gandalf replied.
All of a sudden, there was a rustling coming from the bushes. Gimli, who had already been standing guard, he had his ax in hand poised ready to strike down whomever the intruder was. Gandalf quickly stood up, robe folds twisting with his body, hiding Sam and Pippin behind him, staff in hand. Even though being hidden by Gandalf's robes, Sam and Pippin both drew their swords.
Boromir had taken postion crouching down behind a bush, concealing himself behind his battle shield, sword drawn, ready to spring into action.
The rustling stopped as soon as a gold haired hobbit pushed through, running into Gimli. Boromir had to reframe from pounching, releasing the tension in his thighs, breathing a sigh of relief. Gandalf also released his breath and moved himself away from Sam and Pippin.
"Oi! Watch out, Gimli!" Merry spouted as he ran into the dwarf.
"Merry!" Pippin exlcaimed and ran into his cousins arms, bowling him off his feet unto the ground. Sam followed, expecting to find Frodo to come out on his own accord, even though he knew deep in the back of his mind it was wishful thinking. The next one to appear was Aragorn carrying a small bundle with a patch of black curls protruding from one end.
Boromir was standing now as Aragorn appeared, but right behind him, two strangers appeared escorted by Legolas. Legolas nodded at Boromir conveying that they were harmless, but warning to still keep an eye open. The strangers were led to the center of camp where they sat upon the log.
Sam rushed Aragorn trying to take a peek at Frodo, grabbing onto the cloak covering him. He quickly retracted his hands as he felt something wet. The gardner brought his hand up to his face, frowning as he examined the red smear.
Aragorn carefully laid the unconsious hobbit on the ground. He had been as careful as possible not to jostle Frodo, but the pain finally became unbearable and lost conciousness.
"Mr. Frodo! Mr.Frodo!" Sam called to his master, patting his hands against Frodo's face.
Aragorn unwrapped Frodo from the cloak and the spot where Sam had felt the wetness, blood was seeping from an open wound on Frodo's thigh. Sam took off towards the campfire, grabbing a pot as he passed by Bill to start water boiling. He knew it was going to be needed. Gandalf observed the amount of blood on the cloak and Frodo's breeches. "How bad is it, Aragorn?" he asked bluntly.
Aragorn had grabbed his travel bag, looking for medicinal herbs, bandages and something he could use to cauterize the thigh wound. "He has lost a lot blood complicated by a slight fever."
"How?" Gandalf queried.
"Merry can tell you, but those farmers over there are responsible for the traps that inflicted these injuries upon Frodo," Aragorn explained while schooling his anger, bringing forth the healer. Gandalf's eyes roved over towards the new comers. Under his scrutiny,the men bowed their heads in shame.
"Here is your water, Strider," Sam sat the pan of hot water down, placing himself at Frodo's left side waiting for anything that Strider may need next. Strider looked up to Sam and nodded.
Pippin had positioned himself at Frodo's head, cradling it in his lap, combing his fingers through the sweat soaked black curls. Merry had set his self on Pippin's right side, also trying to add any comfort. "Why is there a belt on his leg, Merry?" Pippin whispered blanching at the site of blood.
"To help stop the bleeding, at least that is what Strider says," Merry answered as best he could. He was still feeling a bit shaky, knowing he was the cause his cousin was injured.
"Legolas," Aragorn called to his companion standing behind the farmers. Legolas closed the distance quietly and knelt beside Aragorn as he was crushing Athelas leaves into the hot water. "I need one of your small knives to stop the bleeding," he whispered. Legolas 's brows quirked. "To cauterize the wound with," he answered quickly.
Legolas nodded grasping a pearl embelished handled knife from it's sheath strapped to his back, placing it into Aragorn's hand.
"Sam, dip this bandage into the Athelas water and wash his hand wound. Then wrap a clean dry bandage over it. Pippin," Aragorn asked trying to deter the youngster's mind to doing something useful, "please wipe Frodo's forehead. It will make him more comfortable." Pippin nodded, his curly locks bouncing and took the cloth from Sam after the excess water had been wrung out, applying it to his cousin's forehead. Sam's mind was whirling with questions as he tended his master. What had happened to cause these injuries, he thought to himself looking at the puncture mark in the hand going straight through.
Bartholomew had been watching the man work on his friend, until the approaching grey bearded man caught his attention. He knew this man disapproved of what they had done. In fact, he was not proud of what he and his friend had done either. He needed to explain, as if that would somehow make this unfortunate situation better.
"My friend relayed to me that you were the ones who had set the traps," Gandalf reprimanded as if he was a father scolding his children about some childish pranks. The newcomers did not respond, one still hanging his head below his shoulder, and the other apprehensive about what the Ranger was doing. "I am curious to know why two farmers need to have set traps up in the trees, instead of on the ground. What kind of game were you hunting?" he questioned again. Again no reply. Just as he was about to say something else, the smaller of the two men suddenly turned blanche, doubled over and vomited between his legs. The other man had taken a rag from his pocket to give to his companion to wipe his face after he had finished. Gandalf motioned for Boromir to give him his water skin, offering it to the man to rinse his mouth. "Thank you," Larson said and tended to his friend. Gandalf wondered what the man was staring at that made him so sick. He looked in the direction and saw what it must had been. Aragorn had started to wash Frodo's thigh, removing the crusted blood from wound. The water that was used had trickled down Frodo's thigh to the ground where it had pooled turning a crimson red.
Legolas was helping Aragorn by rotating his blade in the fire, evenly heating it.
"Gimli," Aragorn called. The dwarf's metal boots created a vibration as he thudded close the the Ranger. Laying aside his ax, he bent at the waist to listen as Aragorn spoke. "I need you to hold Frodo's right leg. He has two sites I need to cauterize and..." he paused taking a quick glance at the unconcious Ring-bearer before continuing, "if he should awaken during the procedure, you will need to steady him," he explained.
"Aye," Gimli acknowledged kneeling down, effectively immobilizing Frodo's leg by placing one hand on the ankle and the other one on his upper thigh.
As the red hot knife was brought out of the fire, all eyes were upon the Ranger as he began to staunch the bleeding wound. The smell of burning flesh overwhelmed the athelas aroma that had once filled the small camp site.
Frodo's eyebrows started to furrough together, a slight moan escaping his lips. Pipping took his eyes away from what Aragorn was doing, bringing is attention back to wiping his cousin's brow. "Shh...it is all right."
Merry noticed that Frodo was trying to pull his hand out of his grip. Merry held on a bit tighter leaning close to his cousin's ear crooning something only Frodo could hear.
Frodo recognized the voice, trying to heed to it, but something was hurting him. He wanted to swat at whatever it was causing him pain. When he could not get his hand to move, he tried willing his legs to kick at the persistant thing hurting him. Realizing that his legs were not responding either, Frodo panicked. His breathing became labored, coming in short rasps, tossing his head from side to side.
Satisfied that the treatment worked, Aragorn pulled the knife back from the entrance wound. Frodo's tense muscles relaxed, his breathing becoming normal at the burning pain subsided. Sam watched Aragorn as he repositioned his masters injured leg apart making room for him to access the exiting wound on the inside of the thigh. "What are you doing?" he questioned with a high tone to his voice.
"I have to repeat the procedure on the inside of his leg, Sam. It is to stop the bleeding," he explained to the gardner.
"Why can't you sew it instead of burnin' 'im like that?"
"Because, Sam, he was injured in such a manner that his whole leg is bleeding inside. This is a better way. I do not like it anymore than you do," he tried to explain. He did not want to alarm Sam in the manner his master had obtained his injuries. Now was not a good time to explain. He would find out soon enough when he questioned the farmers himself.
The knife touched the skin, cinging the flesh. Frodo's eyes popped open. Moaning louder, breathing becoming labored again. This time he struggled harder against his kinsmen holding him down. "St...Stop!" he managed to blurt out, eyes not focused on anyone.
"Mr. Frodo," Sam called getting Frodo to focus on him,"Strider is tendin' your wounds. Do you understand?"
Frodo heard his name being called and turned his head towards the owner of the voice. "Oh, Sam. It...hurts," he cried as tears of pain rolled down his face.
"I know. It'll be over soon. Hold on," he assured his master, squeezing Frodo's arm.
Through his tears, Frodo tried to comprehend what Sam was saying. As his eyes looked toward the cause of his pain, he saw Aragorn bending over his injured leg. Aragorn had pulled the knife blade away to examine the wound, but was not satisfied with the result. The blood had not stopped completely. When he had lifted his eyes, they locked with Frodo's half lidden blue orbs. "Ah, Frodo, I am sorry. Just one more time. You are doing well," he promised.
Frodo shook his head. " I cannot bear...it," he voiced through gritted teeth.
The healer's heart went out to the Ring-bearer, but he had to stop the bleeding to save his patients leg as well as his life. He grabbed a drinking cup, poured some warmed water into it as well as adding a few herbs. Then he handed it to Sam to administer it to Frodo. "Sam, get him to drink all of this. It will help with the pain and calm him down a bit."
Sam received the cup, hoping his master would not refuse and throw it back at him. He gently raised his master's head, pushing the cup to his lips as he softly coaxed Frodo into taking the medicinal tea. Frodo was so thirsty, he did not care what the liquid tasted like as it passed his lips, draining the entire cup. Very quickly, the medication took effect. Merry felt Frodo's hand lax in his, glassy eyes staring back at him. Frodo then turned back to Sam.
Aragorn could wait no longer, once again the smell of burning flesh permeating the air.
There was barely a twinge of resistance from Frodo as the herbs held him suspended in a dream like state. Somehow he knew whatwas happening to him as the heat of the blade cinged his skin, but his senses were dulled-he felt no pain. Even though his eyes were not focusing, he could see Sam, a blurry image of Sam conversing to someone over his head. His head was too heavy for him to move it, that he just let his eyes roam wherever. That was when he caught a glimpse of something silver just beyond the bushes. He tried to squint to focus his eyes, but the attempt just made the image blurrier. He then closed his eyes and opened them again to see if that would help, but the silver thing disappeared.
"Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo? What are you looking at?" Sam asked, looking in the direction his master seemed so intent on.
"Silver glass," he mumbled.
All this time, Legolas had been preoccupied with helping Aragorn, that he almost did not hear Frodo's response. He looked up to stare at Sam. "What did he say?"
"Somethin' about silver and glass, I think. He is pretty out of it since takin' Strider's brew."
"I resent that remark, Master Gamgee," he smiled, "It was tea." Aragorn leaned over Frodo checking his patients pulse at his neck. Satisfied with the strong steady beat, he finally unfastened the makeshift tourniquet after he had bandaged the leg. Then he monitored the blood staining the bandages. When the bandages did not become soaked with blood, he handed the belt back to Merry. "Frodo, how are you feeling?"
Frodo's eyes settled on the familiar voice. Aragorn was peering at him. He pondered a few moments before answering. "No pain. Some...how I knew you would find some way to feed me one of your concoctions...again," he breathed smiling up at the Ranger.
"You have done well. Rest now, and stop fighting the herbs," Aragorn coaxed, wiping Frodo's brow.
Frodo nodded and slowly let his heavy lids close, succumbing to Aragorn's powerful tea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***tbc***
Thank you to all who reviewed and hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Aragorn will be tending to Frodo, then we will find out in the next chapter who the "Silver" people are. Without further adieu, let us begin.
Chapter 5
When the wail resonated throughout the woods, two pairs of hobbit ears perked as they recognized the pain filled cry of one of their own. Sam quickly rose to his full height, even though it was only 3foot 6inches, determined he was going through Gimli and his lethal ax. As he started for the path, he felt a hand tug at his coat. Looking down, he found himself staring into Pippins tired red glassy eyes. He sat back down beside Frodo's cousin. "Mr. Pippin, I've got to go. You know that was Mr. Frodo," Sam said as he had recognized the same agonized scream when his master had been stabbed on Weathertop.
"I know," the youngster said then looking up with his tearing puppy eyes asking," but what about Merry? Where is he?"
Before he could answer a shadow fell over them. Sam looked up to see Gandalf standing over them.
Gandalf's old bones creaked as he lowered himself down to sit upon the same log bringing him to their eye level. "Samwise, Frodo will be found. Aragorn will return with him and Merry, " emphasizing the last name as he looked fondly at Pippin. "We cannot afford for anyone else to go missing. This Fellowship has already been delayed when we came back down the mountain," he spoke having a complacement hand on Sam's shoulder all the while.
"Gandalf, you heard that scream, you know it to be Mr. Frodo. He's in trouble!" Sam declared a little too harshly. As a rush of heat rose in his cheeks, Sam bowed his head as he soon realized he just stepped out of bounds for a servant. "Forgive me, Gandalf," he spoke sitting back down on the log.
"It is all right, Samwise. No offense taken. It is good to know that Frodo has indeed a such a dedicated friend in you," Gandalf replied.
All of a sudden, there was a rustling coming from the bushes. Gimli, who had already been standing guard, he had his ax in hand poised ready to strike down whomever the intruder was. Gandalf quickly stood up, robe folds twisting with his body, hiding Sam and Pippin behind him, staff in hand. Even though being hidden by Gandalf's robes, Sam and Pippin both drew their swords.
Boromir had taken postion crouching down behind a bush, concealing himself behind his battle shield, sword drawn, ready to spring into action.
The rustling stopped as soon as a gold haired hobbit pushed through, running into Gimli. Boromir had to reframe from pounching, releasing the tension in his thighs, breathing a sigh of relief. Gandalf also released his breath and moved himself away from Sam and Pippin.
"Oi! Watch out, Gimli!" Merry spouted as he ran into the dwarf.
"Merry!" Pippin exlcaimed and ran into his cousins arms, bowling him off his feet unto the ground. Sam followed, expecting to find Frodo to come out on his own accord, even though he knew deep in the back of his mind it was wishful thinking. The next one to appear was Aragorn carrying a small bundle with a patch of black curls protruding from one end.
Boromir was standing now as Aragorn appeared, but right behind him, two strangers appeared escorted by Legolas. Legolas nodded at Boromir conveying that they were harmless, but warning to still keep an eye open. The strangers were led to the center of camp where they sat upon the log.
Sam rushed Aragorn trying to take a peek at Frodo, grabbing onto the cloak covering him. He quickly retracted his hands as he felt something wet. The gardner brought his hand up to his face, frowning as he examined the red smear.
Aragorn carefully laid the unconsious hobbit on the ground. He had been as careful as possible not to jostle Frodo, but the pain finally became unbearable and lost conciousness.
"Mr. Frodo! Mr.Frodo!" Sam called to his master, patting his hands against Frodo's face.
Aragorn unwrapped Frodo from the cloak and the spot where Sam had felt the wetness, blood was seeping from an open wound on Frodo's thigh. Sam took off towards the campfire, grabbing a pot as he passed by Bill to start water boiling. He knew it was going to be needed. Gandalf observed the amount of blood on the cloak and Frodo's breeches. "How bad is it, Aragorn?" he asked bluntly.
Aragorn had grabbed his travel bag, looking for medicinal herbs, bandages and something he could use to cauterize the thigh wound. "He has lost a lot blood complicated by a slight fever."
"How?" Gandalf queried.
"Merry can tell you, but those farmers over there are responsible for the traps that inflicted these injuries upon Frodo," Aragorn explained while schooling his anger, bringing forth the healer. Gandalf's eyes roved over towards the new comers. Under his scrutiny,the men bowed their heads in shame.
"Here is your water, Strider," Sam sat the pan of hot water down, placing himself at Frodo's left side waiting for anything that Strider may need next. Strider looked up to Sam and nodded.
Pippin had positioned himself at Frodo's head, cradling it in his lap, combing his fingers through the sweat soaked black curls. Merry had set his self on Pippin's right side, also trying to add any comfort. "Why is there a belt on his leg, Merry?" Pippin whispered blanching at the site of blood.
"To help stop the bleeding, at least that is what Strider says," Merry answered as best he could. He was still feeling a bit shaky, knowing he was the cause his cousin was injured.
"Legolas," Aragorn called to his companion standing behind the farmers. Legolas closed the distance quietly and knelt beside Aragorn as he was crushing Athelas leaves into the hot water. "I need one of your small knives to stop the bleeding," he whispered. Legolas 's brows quirked. "To cauterize the wound with," he answered quickly.
Legolas nodded grasping a pearl embelished handled knife from it's sheath strapped to his back, placing it into Aragorn's hand.
"Sam, dip this bandage into the Athelas water and wash his hand wound. Then wrap a clean dry bandage over it. Pippin," Aragorn asked trying to deter the youngster's mind to doing something useful, "please wipe Frodo's forehead. It will make him more comfortable." Pippin nodded, his curly locks bouncing and took the cloth from Sam after the excess water had been wrung out, applying it to his cousin's forehead. Sam's mind was whirling with questions as he tended his master. What had happened to cause these injuries, he thought to himself looking at the puncture mark in the hand going straight through.
Bartholomew had been watching the man work on his friend, until the approaching grey bearded man caught his attention. He knew this man disapproved of what they had done. In fact, he was not proud of what he and his friend had done either. He needed to explain, as if that would somehow make this unfortunate situation better.
"My friend relayed to me that you were the ones who had set the traps," Gandalf reprimanded as if he was a father scolding his children about some childish pranks. The newcomers did not respond, one still hanging his head below his shoulder, and the other apprehensive about what the Ranger was doing. "I am curious to know why two farmers need to have set traps up in the trees, instead of on the ground. What kind of game were you hunting?" he questioned again. Again no reply. Just as he was about to say something else, the smaller of the two men suddenly turned blanche, doubled over and vomited between his legs. The other man had taken a rag from his pocket to give to his companion to wipe his face after he had finished. Gandalf motioned for Boromir to give him his water skin, offering it to the man to rinse his mouth. "Thank you," Larson said and tended to his friend. Gandalf wondered what the man was staring at that made him so sick. He looked in the direction and saw what it must had been. Aragorn had started to wash Frodo's thigh, removing the crusted blood from wound. The water that was used had trickled down Frodo's thigh to the ground where it had pooled turning a crimson red.
Legolas was helping Aragorn by rotating his blade in the fire, evenly heating it.
"Gimli," Aragorn called. The dwarf's metal boots created a vibration as he thudded close the the Ranger. Laying aside his ax, he bent at the waist to listen as Aragorn spoke. "I need you to hold Frodo's right leg. He has two sites I need to cauterize and..." he paused taking a quick glance at the unconcious Ring-bearer before continuing, "if he should awaken during the procedure, you will need to steady him," he explained.
"Aye," Gimli acknowledged kneeling down, effectively immobilizing Frodo's leg by placing one hand on the ankle and the other one on his upper thigh.
As the red hot knife was brought out of the fire, all eyes were upon the Ranger as he began to staunch the bleeding wound. The smell of burning flesh overwhelmed the athelas aroma that had once filled the small camp site.
Frodo's eyebrows started to furrough together, a slight moan escaping his lips. Pipping took his eyes away from what Aragorn was doing, bringing is attention back to wiping his cousin's brow. "Shh...it is all right."
Merry noticed that Frodo was trying to pull his hand out of his grip. Merry held on a bit tighter leaning close to his cousin's ear crooning something only Frodo could hear.
Frodo recognized the voice, trying to heed to it, but something was hurting him. He wanted to swat at whatever it was causing him pain. When he could not get his hand to move, he tried willing his legs to kick at the persistant thing hurting him. Realizing that his legs were not responding either, Frodo panicked. His breathing became labored, coming in short rasps, tossing his head from side to side.
Satisfied that the treatment worked, Aragorn pulled the knife back from the entrance wound. Frodo's tense muscles relaxed, his breathing becoming normal at the burning pain subsided. Sam watched Aragorn as he repositioned his masters injured leg apart making room for him to access the exiting wound on the inside of the thigh. "What are you doing?" he questioned with a high tone to his voice.
"I have to repeat the procedure on the inside of his leg, Sam. It is to stop the bleeding," he explained to the gardner.
"Why can't you sew it instead of burnin' 'im like that?"
"Because, Sam, he was injured in such a manner that his whole leg is bleeding inside. This is a better way. I do not like it anymore than you do," he tried to explain. He did not want to alarm Sam in the manner his master had obtained his injuries. Now was not a good time to explain. He would find out soon enough when he questioned the farmers himself.
The knife touched the skin, cinging the flesh. Frodo's eyes popped open. Moaning louder, breathing becoming labored again. This time he struggled harder against his kinsmen holding him down. "St...Stop!" he managed to blurt out, eyes not focused on anyone.
"Mr. Frodo," Sam called getting Frodo to focus on him,"Strider is tendin' your wounds. Do you understand?"
Frodo heard his name being called and turned his head towards the owner of the voice. "Oh, Sam. It...hurts," he cried as tears of pain rolled down his face.
"I know. It'll be over soon. Hold on," he assured his master, squeezing Frodo's arm.
Through his tears, Frodo tried to comprehend what Sam was saying. As his eyes looked toward the cause of his pain, he saw Aragorn bending over his injured leg. Aragorn had pulled the knife blade away to examine the wound, but was not satisfied with the result. The blood had not stopped completely. When he had lifted his eyes, they locked with Frodo's half lidden blue orbs. "Ah, Frodo, I am sorry. Just one more time. You are doing well," he promised.
Frodo shook his head. " I cannot bear...it," he voiced through gritted teeth.
The healer's heart went out to the Ring-bearer, but he had to stop the bleeding to save his patients leg as well as his life. He grabbed a drinking cup, poured some warmed water into it as well as adding a few herbs. Then he handed it to Sam to administer it to Frodo. "Sam, get him to drink all of this. It will help with the pain and calm him down a bit."
Sam received the cup, hoping his master would not refuse and throw it back at him. He gently raised his master's head, pushing the cup to his lips as he softly coaxed Frodo into taking the medicinal tea. Frodo was so thirsty, he did not care what the liquid tasted like as it passed his lips, draining the entire cup. Very quickly, the medication took effect. Merry felt Frodo's hand lax in his, glassy eyes staring back at him. Frodo then turned back to Sam.
Aragorn could wait no longer, once again the smell of burning flesh permeating the air.
There was barely a twinge of resistance from Frodo as the herbs held him suspended in a dream like state. Somehow he knew whatwas happening to him as the heat of the blade cinged his skin, but his senses were dulled-he felt no pain. Even though his eyes were not focusing, he could see Sam, a blurry image of Sam conversing to someone over his head. His head was too heavy for him to move it, that he just let his eyes roam wherever. That was when he caught a glimpse of something silver just beyond the bushes. He tried to squint to focus his eyes, but the attempt just made the image blurrier. He then closed his eyes and opened them again to see if that would help, but the silver thing disappeared.
"Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo? What are you looking at?" Sam asked, looking in the direction his master seemed so intent on.
"Silver glass," he mumbled.
All this time, Legolas had been preoccupied with helping Aragorn, that he almost did not hear Frodo's response. He looked up to stare at Sam. "What did he say?"
"Somethin' about silver and glass, I think. He is pretty out of it since takin' Strider's brew."
"I resent that remark, Master Gamgee," he smiled, "It was tea." Aragorn leaned over Frodo checking his patients pulse at his neck. Satisfied with the strong steady beat, he finally unfastened the makeshift tourniquet after he had bandaged the leg. Then he monitored the blood staining the bandages. When the bandages did not become soaked with blood, he handed the belt back to Merry. "Frodo, how are you feeling?"
Frodo's eyes settled on the familiar voice. Aragorn was peering at him. He pondered a few moments before answering. "No pain. Some...how I knew you would find some way to feed me one of your concoctions...again," he breathed smiling up at the Ranger.
"You have done well. Rest now, and stop fighting the herbs," Aragorn coaxed, wiping Frodo's brow.
Frodo nodded and slowly let his heavy lids close, succumbing to Aragorn's powerful tea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***tbc***