Disclaimer: I do not own any characters; they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not make any money or profit from these stories. They are purely entertainment.
All Creatures Great and Small
Chapter 7
The trap door had been concealed for many years before it was discovered. It was just an accident really. The inhabitant's children had unknowingly found it when one of their own kin had gotten lost during a festival. Bright lights lit up the valley as onlookers ahhed and ooohed at the many different patterns of color in the sky: Red, Blue, Yellow…all breathtaking in their own way. On one of these occasions the children took advantage of their parents attention to the sky instead of on them. Few had heard of the strange tale of beings coming out of the mountains. Some say that there was a bewitching woman, beauty like no other and few observed a fiery mountain. Legend told that these beings came from another world and if viewed upon would never be seen again losing their silver color, becoming pale and having to use their mouths to talk.
The children would always play dare, a game in which the one who had been dared prove their courage by going to the area where these beings had been seen and sit there the whole night. A boy had taken the dare this night, not afraid of the tales. His grandmother had told him that it was all nonsense. That she had once spent the night on the lonely mountain and nothing ever happened to her, but when she had awakened the next morning, she held a curiously large leaf in hands. She had never seen it before for there did not exist a tree in the forest that this leaf would have come from. His grandmother saved the leaf until the day she had died, leaving it to her grandson. When he retold the story his friends at the festival, they shunned him telling him that his grandmother was an old fool. To prove his friends wrong, the child started to climb up the hill, the leaves made it hard for him to maintain footing and found himself slipping at times. Once he made it to the top of the hill, he sat down to catch his breath, signaling to his friends below that he had made it. The boy felt a rumble beneath him, calling frantically to his friends what was happening. Before he knew what was going on, the ground gave way and in he fell. The fabled trap door was real. And it had closed on him. The frightened child stayed where he was, thanking his maker that he was not hurt. He peered around him to see where he was. He noticed he was in some type of cave, realizing that he was not alone. There was a being lying on the ground his face turned up towards the boy. When the boy had fallen through the trap door, dust and small rocks had rolled down on top the being causing some injuries. As scared as this boy was, a great calling of courage enveloped him and he found himself drawing closer to the injured being. As the boy lowered himself down to the next level he noticed a silvery substance along the walls
The boy noticed that beneath the bushy red eyebrows, the man's eyes were closed. There was blood coming from the forehead where he had been hit when the rock slide occurred. Timidly, the boy put out his hand and held it to the man's forehead. Slowly, a light came forth from the child's hand, burning brightly and warmly. Soon the blood flow stopped, then disappeared altogether. The child seemed to be worn out. His breathing erratic, sweat beading upon his brow.
Upon opening his eyes, the stranger that the boy saved looked dumbfounded at the child above his head. He slowly got up, feeling for the blood that should have been there a moment ago. Looking at the boy the stranger said, "What? How?"
The child smiled kindly at him and touched the man's red beard. Before anything else happened, there was a great light and some older men approaching the boy. The boy looked up and smiled. He leapt into their arms and was carried away. Before the strangers left, the man on the ground heard a voice inside his head. Thank you. Then the light disappeared. The man sitting on the ground, stunned by what just happened was brought to his senses when someone called out his name, "Balin! Cousin Balin!" the young dwarf ran up to his cousin panting. He had seen the rock fall from a short distance not ever noticing the silver creature that blended in with the rocks, coming to his cousin's rescue as quick as he could. "Are you all right?" the young dwarf asked.
With a great grunt, Balin got to his feet, shook off the small pebbles of rock and nodded. "Yes, Gimli, I am fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me. Now, where's my ax? This Mithril will not get mined on its own," he bellowed and took his cousin by his shoulder and led him from the site where the young boy and his family had disappeared, never to return to that spot again.
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The gentle swaying of the litter had finally rocked Frodo to sleep. When Legolas had explained to Aragorn the approaching rain storm, the hobbits quickly found two branches that were small enough to wrap a bedroll around, but thick enough to support the weight of the Ringbearer. Aragorn offered another one of his potions to make the trip a little easier on him, but Frodo refused the medicinal tea. As the Ranger carried the Ringbearer from his bedroll to the awaiting stretcher, he felt a hand tighten around his neck, fingernails digging into his skin. He looked down to see the same painful look cross Frodo's face after he was stabbed at Weathertop.
"Ah, I am sorry Frodo," he said wincing, ignoring his own pain as Frodo's nails penetrated deeper, sweat beading on his forehead. Aragorn placed Frodo on the litter, while Sam held tightly onto Frodo's hand until the muscle spasm subsided. Positioning the injured leg, the Ranger checked for any further bleeding, satisfied that the bandages were holding. He then pushed a cup of medicinal tea to Frodo's lips as Sam helped him to sit up, which he drank without putting up a fuss. Before Aragorn got to his feet, he felt a hand tug at his wrist. It was Frodo's.
"Do you trust them?" he asked, his injured hand trembling upon Aragorn's wrist. He did not have a good feeling about the pair, especially the larger man. Frodo had realized that the farmer changed his mind awfully fast and wondered why Gandalf did not question the sudden change of heart.
"We need shelter. I promise no further harm will come to you. I told you I would protect you and I will. Now," he continued brushing a sweaty curl away from Frodo's eyes, " we will be leaving in a moment and I want you to relax. You keep fighting my herbs or have you just gotten used to them by now?" Aragorn smiled wryly.
Lying back, a small sigh escaping his lips, Frodo replied, "never."
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The small encampment came into view as the darkened storm clouds threatened to let loose their watery substance. Lightning filling the sky, as the rumble roared warning the inhabitants that it was only a few miles away. A small robust woman maybe of forty years appeared in the doorway wearing an apron, wiping her hands on it as the two farmers approached, quickening their pace towards the one building that smoke was billowing from, to inform their people that they had guests and one of them was injured. Larson was speaking to her as the Fellowship, led by Gandalf, greeted them with judgmental eyes.
"Good day my good lady," Gandalf spoke bowing his head before continuing. "We are hoping that your community would be so kind as to make some accommodations for one of our injured?" he stated gesturing towards Gimli and the three hobbits holding the litter carrying Frodo.
Sam, Merry, and Pippin, still holding the stretcher, cast eyes upon the woman as they listened to Bartholomew retell the story once more. It seemed the more of the story was told, the bigger her eyes became looking from the Fellowship to Larson back to Bartholomew again. She was obviously upset with Larson when Bartholomew explained about the traps and ending up injuring one of the little people. "Well, bring them in you credent! Don't leave them out there when rain be comin'. What do you want to do, kill 'im off?" the woman reprimanded, shaking her finger in Larson's face. Then she turned around and immediately spoke to Gandalf, "I am sorry, sire, for my son's behavior. He just had our safety in his best interest. Protectin' us and all," she apologized, "he could be a big oaf sometimes." The woman's calloused left hand came up to her face as she haphazardly tried tucking her flyaway golden gray flecked hair behind her ears. Smudges of soot mingled with sweat decorated her wrinkled face under one eye crossing her cheek. She looked like she had been in a fight with flue powder and it won. Noticing Gandalf gazing at her disheveled look, she offered, "Please dant mind me, been fighten with the cooking pot and not been able to clean meself up yet. Not time for supper yet mind you. Didn expect company neither."
"No, my dear lady. I expect not. But thank you for your kindness," Gandalf replied and stepped aside as Gimli and the hobbits continued forward stepping over the threshold entering the warm building. Boromir and Legolas had stepped inside the doorway as well and decided to wait there. Looks were deceiving as the little building seemed bigger once inside. The hearth was built in the center of the building, radiating warmth throughout. It was set high, bricks built up from the floor creating an open pit. A rod with a hook on it protruded from one of the bricks holding an iron pot in the center of the fire. Sam's expert nose caught a whiff of roasting chicken. If I could just add my herbs to that! he said to himself reminiscing the last time he had actually had any, his stomach grumbling. There were two long tables along each side of the walls illuminated by candles that were standing on in as their wax held them in place. Sconces also lit the walls, providing light even in the darkened corners. Merry and Pippin, at the head of the litter, continued to follow the woman to a drapery where she pulled back an edge to reveal a small alcove. She held it aside for them to enter and they stopped once everyone was inside. The woman then came around from behind, clearing off a cot signaling them to lay Frodo onto it. Aragorn had led up the rear, coming along side the litter to transfer Frodo to the awaiting cot. The Ringbearer remained asleep as Aragorn carefully lifted him, then laying him gently down supporting his injured leg.
"Oh, he is so small, like a child?" the woman cried, as she took in the full height and condition of Frodo once he was lain down. "How could…" she trailed off as she left the room and quickly returned with a small bowl of cool water. "I am Be'than," she introduced herself, wringing out a cloth then wiping Frodo's brow. "And his name?" she inquired of the person she was tending.
Merry spoke up, "he is our cousin, Frodo. I am Merry and this is our other cousin, Pippin," Merry pointed to Pippin who was rolling up the litter, standing it on end in a corner.
"And you are?" she asked of Sam who was trying to take over tending to his master by covering him up with one of the blankets he found at the end of the cot, moving his way to the head of the bed. "Samwise, ma'am. His gardner," he added.
Be'than nodded her head and then looked to Aragorn. Gimli had removed himself from the room making his way back to Boromir and Legolas leaving Frodo in good hands. She had noticed that an Elf and Dwarf traveled with the company. Her coat of arms was not that good, but she had figured the warrior was Gondorian. But the gentleman standing in front of her was a mystery as well as the little people. She had heard rumors from some of her folk before leaving for harvest, keeping the information to herself. Her son had enough trouble keeping the Orcs at bay and now this. "You sir?" speaking to Aragorn.
Aragorn had kneeled beside the cot at Frodo's leg, inspecting it. He had heard the woman, but ignored her question for the time being. "Sam, place your lips on Frodo's forehead and tell me if it is hot or just warm?"
Sam looked at Strider, but did as he was told. He remembered his mum doing the same when his baby sister took ill. He asked her why she was always kissing her and that she may get sick too. She had told him that was how she could tell if she still had a fever. Sam leaned down and ever so lightly pressed his lips to his master's forehead. Sam jerked back quickly like he had touched an iron.
Aragorn did not need Sam to tell him what he already knew by his reaction. He took one leaf out of his small leather pouch tied to his belt. He whispered into his hand, tearing it in half. He then did something he had never done before. He took that leaf, and with the other hand gently parted the Ringbearer's lips, placing the torn leaf under Frodo's tongue. He noticed the hobbits staring at him. They knew Aragorn to always put the Athelas in a bowl of steaming water to bathe wounds or for a fever, but never to use it directly. "It will work quickly this way, without having to wake him. His fever must come down."
"You are a healer?" Be'than voiced hoping that her question would be answered this time.
"Yes, I am a healer. My name is Aragorn," he told her, hoping that she did not recognize the name. "I also assure you that these gentlemen are not children. They may seem small, but have the bravery of the biggest men. They are called Hobbits, or halflings," Aragorn nodded to Merry, Pippin, Sam and even the unconscious Frodo.
Be'than seemed to remember tales from her childhood of far away lands settled by little people who disappeared when big folk came around, who would play tricks or knock out strangers with rocks thrown from great distances, but she decided these could not be the same creatures as told in those tales.
Merry was about to say something, but caught a cautionary eye from Gandalf, who had just appeared in the doorway.
"Glad to meet you all. Please tell me of what you need. We have some healin' herbs drying next door. Now, if would excuse me, I am sure you all are hungry. I have some stew on. This one will need all of his strength if he's to get better," she said leaving the cloth in the bowl exiting the room, now noticing Gandalf standing there.
"Merry," Gandalf whispered, "Please do not reveal yourselves or our mission to them. And Pippin?"
"I was just going to tell her what she had probably heard was never true. We had slingshots!" Pippin boasted, but yelped when he felt a foot stamp onto his.
"How is Frodo doing, Strider? He hasn't woken up since you gave him that drink. And now you slip him something under his tongue," Sam observed not liking that Frodo had been out completely for a couple of hours. It was not unusual for his master to sleep for long periods of time, but the pain he had been in, with a fever and not felt it when Strider moved him did not bode with him well.
"Sam, he will recover. I just gave him a stronger brew," Aragorn explained. "He will wake soon enough and I am sure he will be himself in no time. We just need to keep an eye on his fever and this leg. Tell me if it starts to bleed again, or if it starts swelling like before. Also," he lowered his voice further, "do not reveal It to no one. If you have to wipe his chest down, do it when there is no one in here. It knows there are those here who may be able to serve It's purpose."
The hobbits nodded understanding, especially Sam. He knew all to well the looks Frodo had been getting from one of their own.
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"I hope you know what you are doing, Larson. Those Orcs will be back on the morrow's eve. You do not have what they want. What are we going to do?" the little man asked quietly. "Your mum didn't know what you told them? What you promised them, do she?"
Larson shook his head. After the folks carried their injured into the common building, he went to one of the tents to tell what one of them carried. "The injured one is wearing a gold ring. I was thinking we could pay them with that."
Intrigued, the little man asked, "A gold ring? Tell me more. Did it have writing on it?" turning around, his black hair hanging loosely about his face framing it.
"It had no writing, but it is pretty. It looks valuable," Larson recalled fondly the first time he had seen it.
"Well," I am the healer here. Maybe I should just take a look at this injured halfling?" he sneered taking a drink of an amber liquid, tossing the empty cup onto his cot, donning a black cape. Larson lifted the tent flaps, both exiting walking towards the common building.
Tbc.
Calenor: thanks.
FrodoBaggins87: we will soon find out if the silver creature will heal him.
Heartofahobbit: Thank you and I never thought of it as Sauron as much as the Ring had its own identity. Or that it was not Frodo willing himself from the pain.
Elwen: Here is more, but you have already read it on LJ.
Budgielover: I will really try and tug at your heartstrings, truly!!!!!