Calenor: You will have to wait and see what awaits poor Frodo and the Fellowship.
Breon Briarwood: Trouble is indeed coming. Stay tuned.
Heartofahobbit and Frodobaggins87: Thanks for reviewing. Here is the next chapter. Allies? Let me see.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.
All Creatures Great and Small
Chapter 8
As dusk approached, long shadows settled over the mountains, bringing a chill to the air. The figure hid well among the shadows. Making no noise at all as he stealthily made his way from tent to tent until he reached his destination. He knew the men inside were cruel, but there was one who showed compassion. The small one was different. He sensed it the moment they made eye contact. Hope, despair, and urgency surrounded the small ones thoughts. He felt he had to be somewhere, but helping the trapped being was more important to him. Those big blue eyes held depths of sorrow and a forboding future.
He remembered falling, being free of the net, running as fast as he could. Then, he felt it, as if he was the one who had been stabbed. Blinding piercing pain was what he felt from the little one. Not regret for helping, just concern for others. The being decided at that moment he would run and get help. But who would come? Who would believe him? They would tell him it was just his imagination, that it was just a fairy tale, told to children to scare them away from the mountains. He went anyway, curiosity getting the best of him.
Then he remembered something his Gamma said. "If ever in trouble, the Others will always know. Just concentrate. Help will come. Your thoughts will guide them, even across great distances."
So, that is what he did as he followed the little one to the camp, concealed by the trees and bushes. He concentrated as best he could, pouring his thoughts out, images of what had happened. Why had he not thought of it before was beyond him. There he stayed in the shadows. For how long, he could not tell. He did not even know if his plan had worked. As he contemplated his next move, he felt a hand touch his shoulder, spinning around his eyes grew wide.
Be'than stirred the pot until she felt ready the meal was ready to eat. She had several new mouths to feed. She knew the injured one would definitely need to eat. She also knew she had to take care of her own. Her mind flew with thoughts as she figured out what she needed to do. She would just have to go down to the storage and get out the salted pork. There was more than enough to go around, even with these new strangers to feed.
Gandalf sat on the bench protruding from one of the tables in the common room, chewing on his pipe stem. Not really smoking on it. He found comfort in it as he thought hard about the creature whom Frodo happened upon. He needed to confirm his suspicions, but he had a very good idea of what it was. If only he had brought the book with him from Rivendell, he could have referred to it. Rivendell's history was kept in a journal, excerpts from Lord Elrond's personal memoirs. It would have definitely been in there, Gandalf thought to himself. So deep into his thoughts he did not hear the lady speaking to him, but felt it when she snapped a towel at his leg.
"Oh, beg me pardon, a fly," she mused finally getting the old man's attention. "Do you mind helpin' here. Not 'nough hands ta carry all these," she added referring to the bowls that had been laden with the stew.
"Yes, dear lady. You will make some very hungry hobbits very happy, and full I should hope," Gandalf replied as he loaded his arm up with two bowls, carrying his staff with the empty hand.
Be'than and Gandalf entered the room with the food hand in hand and at once the chattering that could be heard from outside the curtain stopped as soon as the smell wafted past the hobbits' noses.
"Sam, here is yours and Frodo's. Merry and Pippin, the lady has yours," Gandalf said transferring the hot bowls to Sam's hands when he reached out for them.
"You are awake enough to eat this stew, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked his master, helping Frodo sit up by placing a couple bedrolls behind his back.
"There you go, Frodo. I bet that feels better," Pippin added as he helped cushion the injured leg. Frodo forgot about his hand, and as he put some pressure on it to push himself up, he moaned loudly enough to alarm Be'than.
"Oh, are you all right, Um..." she asked unsure of how to address the little fellow.
Frodo noticed the hesitation in the woman's voice. "Please," he winced, " call me Frodo. Frodo Baggins at your service," he managed, bowing his head as best he could.
"Sir, you need not bow to me?" Be'than stated, smiling, her lips stretching over her teeth, diminshing her wrinkles.
Frodo smiled back, finally settled back onto the bedrolls. Sam placed the bowl on Frodo's lap resting its edge against the bandaged hand for support. Then putting the spoon into his master's right hand, Frodo began to feed himself, everyone else following suit Sam being the last to start. It was difficult at first, with balancing the bowl on his lap, but Frodo managed a couple of spoonfuls before he became full.
Be'than watched Frodo as he set his spoon aside, indicating to Sam that he was full and to take the bowl. "Now, sir," addressing Frodo, "you must eat if you are ta heal properly," she said taking the bowl before Sam could reach it. She filled the spoon with some of the stew and put it up to Frodo's lips. Frodo looked for help from Sam and even his cousins, but they had fixed their eyes on their bowls of stew as if it was the last meal they were going to have. Feeling too drained to attempt a power struggle, Frodo slumped his shoulders in defeat and opened his mouth to the hovering spoon.
"Thank you kindly for cooperatin', sir. You'll feel much better for it, believe me," she told Frodo as he accepted another spoonful from this overly protective mother hen. He silently decided that she was actually worse than Sam.
Sam guiltily looked at Gandalf and unexpectedly received a wink.
"Samwise, I think Frodo is in good hands now, and I must see to the others to make sure they eat as well," Gandalf spoke placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder before departing.
"Very good. I must say you did very well," Be'than commented on the empty soup bowl.
Sam turned towards his master noting that his face was rather flush, eyelids drooping, taking deep breaths. "Mr.Frodo?" Sam asked, alarm in his voice.
"Just tired, Sam," Frodo replied trying to catch his breath.
Merry jerked his head up from his bowl to notice a look of concern on their hostess' face. "Is anythin' wrong, Ma'am?"
Be'than wrung her hands in her apron apologizing,"I did not mean to wear the little fellow out."
"Do not worry, ma'am. He's been eating like a bird since we left...Oi! Merry, my soup!" Pippin exclaimed as he had started to explain before he felt a pinch in the arm by his cousin.
"Oh? Where did you leave from?" Be'than asked, feeling a little better about making her charge consume the entire bowl.
Merry scowled at Pippin. Pippin had always talked too much, he could not remember a time when his cousin was quiet except for when he was eating.
"Yes, where did you folks start off from?" a second voice asked as a dark haired man wearing a black cloak that covered him from his shoulders to his knees entered the already crowded room. The man stared intently with his beady dark eyes down his crooked nose. He did not smile as he looked over Be'than's head towards the slumped figure on the cot. Then his eyes wandered to the other three blond haired hobbits who just stared back. Larson hung back in the door frame making him a head taller than the cloaked figure.
After there was still no reply, the man strode over to Frodo, bent down reaching out with his right hand cupping Frodo's chin. Taking his other hand he felt Frodo's forehead. Frodo flinched at the touch as a surge ran through him, his tired eyes looking up into the man's face.
Sam did not like this man touching his master. Just as the thought occurred to him, a familiar voice echoed behind him.
Strider, Ranger of the North, entered the room occupied by the hobbits. What he observed was an unfamiliar man peering into the Ringbearer's face. "Samwise, is there something wrong with Frodo?" his voice soft but commanding.
Aragorn's voice startled both men, interrupting the cloaked man's concentration upon the hobbit. Rolling his eyes with a look of annoyance, the man sighed releasing Frodo's chin, slowly straightening his back to his full height. "The lad seems to have a fever," he said to the Ranger calmly. "I am sorry, I am Hawthorne. I am the healer here."
Aragorn took one look at Frodo's flushed face and knew that infection was setting in. "I thank you for checking him. I can tend to him from here."
"You are trained in healing?" Hawthorne asked.
"Oh,yes," Be'than interrupted. Gave the young sir a leaf for his pain. Stuck it right under his tongue. Nice smell, too."
"Kingsfoil-healing herb of a King," Hawthorne noted, schooling his features well.
"My father taught me," Aragorn said not wanting to reveal too much to these people.
"Well, I did not mean to intrude. I wish to offer my services as healer and any herbs that I may have that could be of help. With war brewing, healing herbs are becoming scarce. We have been blessed with good health and not have had to use much of our stores except for a minor pain of the head," Hawthorne slowly spoke, hanging onto every word.
"Thank you. I would surely like to have a look," he stated watching as Hawthorne again peered down at Frodo's bandaged hand and leg.
"He has suffered much by the hands of one of our own, but..." he said raising his head, eyes locked with Aragorn's,"but he has a strong will and very stubborn if I may add."
Aragorn never broke eye contact as he replied,"You just do not know how right you are."
In his effort to evade the strange man's touch, Frodo's face became contorted, his breathing becoming rapid, body rigid as another cramp claimed his leg.
"Mr.Frodo?" Sam asked worriedly. Aragorn pushed by Hawthorne, breaking physical contact between them, kneeling at Frodo's side. "Breathe, Frodo," Aragorn said trying to coach the Ringbearer through the pain. But Frodo was not listening. With his eyes scrunched closed, he just wanted it to be over soon. He felt a hand grab his injured one up. Then another, much larger hand mopping the sweat from his brow. Stabbing pain flared through his leg, causing him to yell out, struggling against friendly arms holding him down. With his one good hand, Frodo grabbed hold of Aragorn's hair making the Ranger yelp. The Ringbearer gasped as he felt pressure being applied by another large hand on his foot. Before he could open his eyes to protest, the pain started to subside and Frodo began to relax letting go of his breath that he had been holding as well as Aragorn's hair.
Frodo opened his eyes, Sam was the one who had his hand. Since it was bandaged, he could not feel the familiar callouses that coarsed his gardner's palms. But he wanted to know who had grabbed his foot. When he looked down his leg toward his feet, he only saw the man named Hawthorne at the foot. He quirked his eyebrows in confusion. What had happened, who grabbed his foot? He shook his head in disbelief. With his energy spent, Frodo slumped back onto the bedrolls, half lidden eyes finally closing. "Sleep, Mr. Frodo. You will feel better soon," Sam said.
"I know. The voice telling me to..." he whispered as his breathing eased into a familiar rhythm that indicated to Sam that he had fallen asleep.
Hawthorne had obviously heard the comment, but did not linger on it as he spoke, "The lad is definitely in for a rough night. Call upon me if you need assistance," then he abrubtly left the little room followed by Larson.
Be'than got up as well and collected the rest of the empty bowls,"yes, I will be back in a while. Have ta feed the rest of my flock," she said and followed on the heels of her son.
Sam had managed to reposition his master onto the cot, lying him all the way down, tucking the blanket around him. He then pulled up the side chair and took his place by his master's side.
Aragorn shook his head, feeling around to make sure he still had a scalp. Merry and Pippin snickered. Aragorn glared. Sam could not help a little giggle escape his mouth. He looked quickly down into his lap as Aragorn's head snapped around to him.
"Mr. Strider," Sam asked as he felt it safe to talk now,"what voice Mr.Frodo talkin' about? And what did that healer do to his foot?"
"I do not know, Sam. Maybe Gandalf can help with those questions. Merry, Pippin come with me. Sam, I will send Boromir in here to stay with you and Frodo. Do not let anyone else in here, except for the Fellowship," Aragorn cautioned.
When Aragorn stepped out of the room, Gimli inquired first about Frodo. "How is Master Baggins?"
"He is resting, but he has a fever. I am afraid that infection has set in. The only thing we can do now is wait for it to run its course. I am going to look through the herb stores here to see if they have anything for the infection. My supplies are very low," he said, then added "Boromir, I want you to sit with Sam and Frodo now, then we will rotate watches."
"I will take the next watch," Legolas volunteered.
Boromir slumped to the floor in front of the doorway to Frodo's room, never seeing the person walk pass him.
The hooded figure silently entered the room, blocking the only light illuminated by the common room's fire. As the figure approached the cot containing the injured hobbit, they had noticed the little one was very fevered as the light seemed to glisten off his sweating body. The sick hobbit had kicked off his cover exposing his chest. The fire highlighted a gold band hung about the hobbits neck on a finely crafted chain. As the hooded figure was admiring the Ring, the other hobbit sitting at the bedside stirred.
Sam opened his eyes, the sight of a figure looming over Frodo put him into action, but before he could get one syllable out, a sudden urge to sleep came over him. Samwise Gamgee was rendered useless as his unconcious body floundered to the floor.
Only sounds of the crackling wood on the fire was the only noise that could be heard except the harsh breathing coming from the sick hobbit. A long fingered hand slowly reached out towards the Ringbearer's sweaty brow.
Frodo stirred at the light touch. The pain in his leg resurfacing and the fever climbing, Frodo opened his sticky eyes slowly revealing a figure standing over him. The figure placed his cool hand over Frodo's brow again. Frodo's eyes closed, his breathing relaxed.
"My lady, have you seen Hawthorn?" Aragorn asked Be'than as he walked his way back from the storehouse where the herbs were kept.
"No,sir. I have been out to my son's tent speaking with him for the last hour. Maybe he is in his tent?" she suggested.
"No, I have been there. I wanted to ask him about these herbs. I have never seen them before," Aragorn said as held out a green leaf with some purple bulbs.
Be'than peered at them before speaking,"I have never seen them either. Most unusual because I help him organize them sometimes."
Legolas came running out of the door that led to the common room followed by Boromir and Sam. Aragorn stopped talking, running to them halfway.
"Frodo has been taken!" Legolas breathed out.
tbc
Breon Briarwood: Trouble is indeed coming. Stay tuned.
Heartofahobbit and Frodobaggins87: Thanks for reviewing. Here is the next chapter. Allies? Let me see.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.
All Creatures Great and Small
Chapter 8
As dusk approached, long shadows settled over the mountains, bringing a chill to the air. The figure hid well among the shadows. Making no noise at all as he stealthily made his way from tent to tent until he reached his destination. He knew the men inside were cruel, but there was one who showed compassion. The small one was different. He sensed it the moment they made eye contact. Hope, despair, and urgency surrounded the small ones thoughts. He felt he had to be somewhere, but helping the trapped being was more important to him. Those big blue eyes held depths of sorrow and a forboding future.
He remembered falling, being free of the net, running as fast as he could. Then, he felt it, as if he was the one who had been stabbed. Blinding piercing pain was what he felt from the little one. Not regret for helping, just concern for others. The being decided at that moment he would run and get help. But who would come? Who would believe him? They would tell him it was just his imagination, that it was just a fairy tale, told to children to scare them away from the mountains. He went anyway, curiosity getting the best of him.
Then he remembered something his Gamma said. "If ever in trouble, the Others will always know. Just concentrate. Help will come. Your thoughts will guide them, even across great distances."
So, that is what he did as he followed the little one to the camp, concealed by the trees and bushes. He concentrated as best he could, pouring his thoughts out, images of what had happened. Why had he not thought of it before was beyond him. There he stayed in the shadows. For how long, he could not tell. He did not even know if his plan had worked. As he contemplated his next move, he felt a hand touch his shoulder, spinning around his eyes grew wide.
Be'than stirred the pot until she felt ready the meal was ready to eat. She had several new mouths to feed. She knew the injured one would definitely need to eat. She also knew she had to take care of her own. Her mind flew with thoughts as she figured out what she needed to do. She would just have to go down to the storage and get out the salted pork. There was more than enough to go around, even with these new strangers to feed.
Gandalf sat on the bench protruding from one of the tables in the common room, chewing on his pipe stem. Not really smoking on it. He found comfort in it as he thought hard about the creature whom Frodo happened upon. He needed to confirm his suspicions, but he had a very good idea of what it was. If only he had brought the book with him from Rivendell, he could have referred to it. Rivendell's history was kept in a journal, excerpts from Lord Elrond's personal memoirs. It would have definitely been in there, Gandalf thought to himself. So deep into his thoughts he did not hear the lady speaking to him, but felt it when she snapped a towel at his leg.
"Oh, beg me pardon, a fly," she mused finally getting the old man's attention. "Do you mind helpin' here. Not 'nough hands ta carry all these," she added referring to the bowls that had been laden with the stew.
"Yes, dear lady. You will make some very hungry hobbits very happy, and full I should hope," Gandalf replied as he loaded his arm up with two bowls, carrying his staff with the empty hand.
Be'than and Gandalf entered the room with the food hand in hand and at once the chattering that could be heard from outside the curtain stopped as soon as the smell wafted past the hobbits' noses.
"Sam, here is yours and Frodo's. Merry and Pippin, the lady has yours," Gandalf said transferring the hot bowls to Sam's hands when he reached out for them.
"You are awake enough to eat this stew, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked his master, helping Frodo sit up by placing a couple bedrolls behind his back.
"There you go, Frodo. I bet that feels better," Pippin added as he helped cushion the injured leg. Frodo forgot about his hand, and as he put some pressure on it to push himself up, he moaned loudly enough to alarm Be'than.
"Oh, are you all right, Um..." she asked unsure of how to address the little fellow.
Frodo noticed the hesitation in the woman's voice. "Please," he winced, " call me Frodo. Frodo Baggins at your service," he managed, bowing his head as best he could.
"Sir, you need not bow to me?" Be'than stated, smiling, her lips stretching over her teeth, diminshing her wrinkles.
Frodo smiled back, finally settled back onto the bedrolls. Sam placed the bowl on Frodo's lap resting its edge against the bandaged hand for support. Then putting the spoon into his master's right hand, Frodo began to feed himself, everyone else following suit Sam being the last to start. It was difficult at first, with balancing the bowl on his lap, but Frodo managed a couple of spoonfuls before he became full.
Be'than watched Frodo as he set his spoon aside, indicating to Sam that he was full and to take the bowl. "Now, sir," addressing Frodo, "you must eat if you are ta heal properly," she said taking the bowl before Sam could reach it. She filled the spoon with some of the stew and put it up to Frodo's lips. Frodo looked for help from Sam and even his cousins, but they had fixed their eyes on their bowls of stew as if it was the last meal they were going to have. Feeling too drained to attempt a power struggle, Frodo slumped his shoulders in defeat and opened his mouth to the hovering spoon.
"Thank you kindly for cooperatin', sir. You'll feel much better for it, believe me," she told Frodo as he accepted another spoonful from this overly protective mother hen. He silently decided that she was actually worse than Sam.
Sam guiltily looked at Gandalf and unexpectedly received a wink.
"Samwise, I think Frodo is in good hands now, and I must see to the others to make sure they eat as well," Gandalf spoke placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder before departing.
"Very good. I must say you did very well," Be'than commented on the empty soup bowl.
Sam turned towards his master noting that his face was rather flush, eyelids drooping, taking deep breaths. "Mr.Frodo?" Sam asked, alarm in his voice.
"Just tired, Sam," Frodo replied trying to catch his breath.
Merry jerked his head up from his bowl to notice a look of concern on their hostess' face. "Is anythin' wrong, Ma'am?"
Be'than wrung her hands in her apron apologizing,"I did not mean to wear the little fellow out."
"Do not worry, ma'am. He's been eating like a bird since we left...Oi! Merry, my soup!" Pippin exclaimed as he had started to explain before he felt a pinch in the arm by his cousin.
"Oh? Where did you leave from?" Be'than asked, feeling a little better about making her charge consume the entire bowl.
Merry scowled at Pippin. Pippin had always talked too much, he could not remember a time when his cousin was quiet except for when he was eating.
"Yes, where did you folks start off from?" a second voice asked as a dark haired man wearing a black cloak that covered him from his shoulders to his knees entered the already crowded room. The man stared intently with his beady dark eyes down his crooked nose. He did not smile as he looked over Be'than's head towards the slumped figure on the cot. Then his eyes wandered to the other three blond haired hobbits who just stared back. Larson hung back in the door frame making him a head taller than the cloaked figure.
After there was still no reply, the man strode over to Frodo, bent down reaching out with his right hand cupping Frodo's chin. Taking his other hand he felt Frodo's forehead. Frodo flinched at the touch as a surge ran through him, his tired eyes looking up into the man's face.
Sam did not like this man touching his master. Just as the thought occurred to him, a familiar voice echoed behind him.
Strider, Ranger of the North, entered the room occupied by the hobbits. What he observed was an unfamiliar man peering into the Ringbearer's face. "Samwise, is there something wrong with Frodo?" his voice soft but commanding.
Aragorn's voice startled both men, interrupting the cloaked man's concentration upon the hobbit. Rolling his eyes with a look of annoyance, the man sighed releasing Frodo's chin, slowly straightening his back to his full height. "The lad seems to have a fever," he said to the Ranger calmly. "I am sorry, I am Hawthorne. I am the healer here."
Aragorn took one look at Frodo's flushed face and knew that infection was setting in. "I thank you for checking him. I can tend to him from here."
"You are trained in healing?" Hawthorne asked.
"Oh,yes," Be'than interrupted. Gave the young sir a leaf for his pain. Stuck it right under his tongue. Nice smell, too."
"Kingsfoil-healing herb of a King," Hawthorne noted, schooling his features well.
"My father taught me," Aragorn said not wanting to reveal too much to these people.
"Well, I did not mean to intrude. I wish to offer my services as healer and any herbs that I may have that could be of help. With war brewing, healing herbs are becoming scarce. We have been blessed with good health and not have had to use much of our stores except for a minor pain of the head," Hawthorne slowly spoke, hanging onto every word.
"Thank you. I would surely like to have a look," he stated watching as Hawthorne again peered down at Frodo's bandaged hand and leg.
"He has suffered much by the hands of one of our own, but..." he said raising his head, eyes locked with Aragorn's,"but he has a strong will and very stubborn if I may add."
Aragorn never broke eye contact as he replied,"You just do not know how right you are."
In his effort to evade the strange man's touch, Frodo's face became contorted, his breathing becoming rapid, body rigid as another cramp claimed his leg.
"Mr.Frodo?" Sam asked worriedly. Aragorn pushed by Hawthorne, breaking physical contact between them, kneeling at Frodo's side. "Breathe, Frodo," Aragorn said trying to coach the Ringbearer through the pain. But Frodo was not listening. With his eyes scrunched closed, he just wanted it to be over soon. He felt a hand grab his injured one up. Then another, much larger hand mopping the sweat from his brow. Stabbing pain flared through his leg, causing him to yell out, struggling against friendly arms holding him down. With his one good hand, Frodo grabbed hold of Aragorn's hair making the Ranger yelp. The Ringbearer gasped as he felt pressure being applied by another large hand on his foot. Before he could open his eyes to protest, the pain started to subside and Frodo began to relax letting go of his breath that he had been holding as well as Aragorn's hair.
Frodo opened his eyes, Sam was the one who had his hand. Since it was bandaged, he could not feel the familiar callouses that coarsed his gardner's palms. But he wanted to know who had grabbed his foot. When he looked down his leg toward his feet, he only saw the man named Hawthorne at the foot. He quirked his eyebrows in confusion. What had happened, who grabbed his foot? He shook his head in disbelief. With his energy spent, Frodo slumped back onto the bedrolls, half lidden eyes finally closing. "Sleep, Mr. Frodo. You will feel better soon," Sam said.
"I know. The voice telling me to..." he whispered as his breathing eased into a familiar rhythm that indicated to Sam that he had fallen asleep.
Hawthorne had obviously heard the comment, but did not linger on it as he spoke, "The lad is definitely in for a rough night. Call upon me if you need assistance," then he abrubtly left the little room followed by Larson.
Be'than got up as well and collected the rest of the empty bowls,"yes, I will be back in a while. Have ta feed the rest of my flock," she said and followed on the heels of her son.
Sam had managed to reposition his master onto the cot, lying him all the way down, tucking the blanket around him. He then pulled up the side chair and took his place by his master's side.
Aragorn shook his head, feeling around to make sure he still had a scalp. Merry and Pippin snickered. Aragorn glared. Sam could not help a little giggle escape his mouth. He looked quickly down into his lap as Aragorn's head snapped around to him.
"Mr. Strider," Sam asked as he felt it safe to talk now,"what voice Mr.Frodo talkin' about? And what did that healer do to his foot?"
"I do not know, Sam. Maybe Gandalf can help with those questions. Merry, Pippin come with me. Sam, I will send Boromir in here to stay with you and Frodo. Do not let anyone else in here, except for the Fellowship," Aragorn cautioned.
When Aragorn stepped out of the room, Gimli inquired first about Frodo. "How is Master Baggins?"
"He is resting, but he has a fever. I am afraid that infection has set in. The only thing we can do now is wait for it to run its course. I am going to look through the herb stores here to see if they have anything for the infection. My supplies are very low," he said, then added "Boromir, I want you to sit with Sam and Frodo now, then we will rotate watches."
"I will take the next watch," Legolas volunteered.
Boromir slumped to the floor in front of the doorway to Frodo's room, never seeing the person walk pass him.
The hooded figure silently entered the room, blocking the only light illuminated by the common room's fire. As the figure approached the cot containing the injured hobbit, they had noticed the little one was very fevered as the light seemed to glisten off his sweating body. The sick hobbit had kicked off his cover exposing his chest. The fire highlighted a gold band hung about the hobbits neck on a finely crafted chain. As the hooded figure was admiring the Ring, the other hobbit sitting at the bedside stirred.
Sam opened his eyes, the sight of a figure looming over Frodo put him into action, but before he could get one syllable out, a sudden urge to sleep came over him. Samwise Gamgee was rendered useless as his unconcious body floundered to the floor.
Only sounds of the crackling wood on the fire was the only noise that could be heard except the harsh breathing coming from the sick hobbit. A long fingered hand slowly reached out towards the Ringbearer's sweaty brow.
Frodo stirred at the light touch. The pain in his leg resurfacing and the fever climbing, Frodo opened his sticky eyes slowly revealing a figure standing over him. The figure placed his cool hand over Frodo's brow again. Frodo's eyes closed, his breathing relaxed.
"My lady, have you seen Hawthorn?" Aragorn asked Be'than as he walked his way back from the storehouse where the herbs were kept.
"No,sir. I have been out to my son's tent speaking with him for the last hour. Maybe he is in his tent?" she suggested.
"No, I have been there. I wanted to ask him about these herbs. I have never seen them before," Aragorn said as held out a green leaf with some purple bulbs.
Be'than peered at them before speaking,"I have never seen them either. Most unusual because I help him organize them sometimes."
Legolas came running out of the door that led to the common room followed by Boromir and Sam. Aragorn stopped talking, running to them halfway.
"Frodo has been taken!" Legolas breathed out.
tbc