Sam awoke to the muffled sounds of raised voices. He blinked a moment and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then sat up. He no longer had to be dragged out of Mordor, he found peace in sleep now, though often troubled by disturbing dreams. That's all they were now. Dreams. He did not have to live them. He clutched the covers and stared at his master. But Frodo did, and Sam felt his heart torn at the thought of what kind of reality Frodo had to live. Suddenly there was another shout and Sam recognized Envin's voice.

"...I've got a response! If you would just..."

"We are moving you to other patients," said a cold, stiff voice. "There are wounded soldiers that need you."

"...He needs me!!"

"Don't you start with that! You are too young to-"

"In all of my youth I have tended more patients than you!"

"You've never encountered a patient such as this! You cannot hope to-"

"Don't you tell me what I can and cannot do!"

Could that voice have truly been Envin's. It was so calm and gentle in front of Sam. He imagined as a healer he had schooled his voice to do such. But this was a frightening change. He did not know such a seemingly gentle introvert could be so fierce. The voices returned to Sam's ears as they rose over the thick confines of the tent.

"...call the guards if you have another outburst like that..."

"Call them! I shall not budge! This is my case and I'm at will whether I shall abandon it or not!"

"Just because your brother is a soldier do not think they will be leanient towards you!"

"I do not ask for any such thing and leave my family out of this."

"It is because of your father you are even here!"

"I owe to him all of my healing knowledge speak not of my father with such a tone!"

"Oh yes all of your healing knowledge!" This tone was in mock. "If you wish to be a respectable healer you should abandon all of these silly treatments any way. And if you take a knife to a patient again I'll see your own throat cut!"

"Cut it!"

"This is your problem, Envin, you think nothing out! Did not you anticipate the conciquences of such an absurd action! You cut him!"

"I knew the conciquences and I know what I am doing!"

"You do not use your head, Envin! You half-wise simpleton!"

This was enough for Sam's ears. He jumped out of the bed and burst out of the tent still in his bed dressings. Envin spun around and began walking away, not even noticing Sam underfoot when something yanked his hair an he fell back. Sam stared in wide eyed shock as Envin struggled to his knees and was served a kick to the side. He doubled over and fought to stand again, his white robes full of dust from the road. The other healer glared down at him his face stoney and cold. When Envin rose he just stared at the man and stayed his fists. "I will not hit you," he muttered. Fire raged in the other healers eyes as he served Envin a punch in the jaw. The young man fell to the dust again and Sam spun around and ran back to the camp calling for help.

~~~

Emáten was sitting in front of his tent fondling the bandage on his arm. He remembered the battle rather hazily. Just the arrow that pierced his arm and a dull blow to his head that sent him to the ground. He stared at the grass shamefully. Surely he had killed scores of the enemy but to be carried away and tended by his own younger brother was humiliation. He had always seen himself as a rather good soldier but did not see his performance good enough to be rewarded by the king himself. Indeed he had been at a ceremony for the men that showed strength and bravery in battle.

He continued to berate himself when he saw a small child running in the distance. He squinted and noticed it was Samwise, Ringbearer. He stood abruptly and the small hobbit halted panting at his feet. Emáten was so confused he fell to his knees and bowed his head. "Lord Samwise! What brings you here?"

"...Envin..." Sam gasped, "...come... come..." He turned back around and began the dash back to Frodo's tent. Emáten was at his heals.

~~~

When the pair reached the tent Envin was alone, sitting in the midst of the dusty road. Emáten shot to his side. "Brother, what happened?"

"They want me home, Emáten. They say I am not fit to tend the Ringbearer and that I should return with Father and Emarin."

"Why!" Emáten exploded, knowing that his brother was a fine healer. "Is the treatment not working?"

"That's just it. I got a response. A small one but it's a start. They just- well I shouldn't have-"

"You did everything I told you," said Sam and the two men turned to him. "I let you do it, you said it was my choice, right?"

Envin nodded.

"Then it was all my doin'. I'll tell them that. And I'll tell 'em that I will only have you tendin' my Mr. Frodo. After all I am *Lord* Samwise." Sam smiled slightly but the jest in his words could not be detected in his voice. He seemed very drained and his face was flushed. His lank curls fell limp with sweat and he leaned on a slender tree for support.

Envin rose, "Emáten help him back to bed."

Emáten glanced at Sam and blushed feeling awkward at carrying the Ringbearer. "Here we are, sir, tell me if you're not comfortable, sir."

Envin glanced over his brother's shoulders and pulled a face for the sole purpose to make Sam laugh. It worked. He truly was a healer at heart. Emáten looked confused as he carried a chuckling Sam back into the tent, trying not to stumble over his own feet. Envin paused a moment, a look of fatigue crossed his features and he slumped his shoulders. Keeping up this act to heal Sam was a terrible drain on him. When he saw the two disappear he sighed and straightened. He wiped his face clean and entered the tent.

~~~

Emáten had gone to get Lord Aragorn as Envin helped Sam clean up. He was covered in dust and sweat and he would not stop panting. His body had not been so overworked in the past couple weaks and it was taking a terrible toll. Despite his weakness Sam's spirits stayed high and even his voice began to tremble and heave. Envin tried to make him go to sleep but he insisted on waiting for Aragorn to tell him everything.

"You should get some rest, Sam, unless you want to completely reverse my hard work."

"N- now don'- don't you go makin'- m- me feel g- guilty an' such," said Sam trembling from the dry heaves.

"You sound terrible," Envin jested wiping the hobbit's face clean with a warm rag.

Sam leaned back amongst the pillows, the warm water felt good and he sighed trying to stop his hiccoughing. "Y- you l- look te- terrible," said Sam with a smirk as he opened one eye to peer at the dissheveled healer. Envin laughed. "An'- and that eye I th- throttled is changin' c- colors."

Envin laughed and wrung out the cloth. He set it back on the bowl and leaned back. Sam made to sit up but Envin pressed his hands sternly on the hobbit's shoulders. "Shh, just try and breathe right now. Don't stress yourself." He reached down and grabbed Sam's hand. He pressed his fingers at his wrist and counted to himself. "And your heart is pumping too quickly."

"T- too quickly?"

"Yes. I'm surprised you didn't pass out. Do you feel light headed at all?"

Sam seemed to think a moment then nodded. "And k- kinda dizzy."

"I'll pour you a glass of water. You don't get up." He said sternly getting up to pour the water. As he lifted the pitcher his eyes met the still figure on the chair. He looked into the pitcher and saw the water shimmer in the fire light. An idea struck him and he took Frodo's hand. He poured the water into it and let it splash onto the floor. He noticed Frodo took a shaky breath, almost a gasp and he smiled. "I have a response," he whispered.

Sam peeked open an eye. "H- hey you're n-not supposed to do th- the treatment with- without me."

Envin turned to Sam with a smile. "There's more hope than I thought."

The hobbit sighed contentedly. "Th- that's me Mr. Fr- Frodo. He don'- don't ever g- give up."

"No," whispered Envin thoughtully, "Hobbit's don't seem to do that easily."

It was then that Aragorn entered the tent gracefully followed by three shadows, one bigger than the rest. Envin laughed at his brother as he followed the anxious hobbits. "What's all this, now?" said Aragorn warmly, putting his palm to Sam's forehead. The hobbit sighed and felt the warm healing powers of the king rush through him.

"My lord," said Envin, bowing, "The healers want me to abandon Master Frodo and Master Samwise but I cannot do that."

"And why not? Certainly the other soldiers need your healing hands, Envin."

"I am dedicated to the Ringbearers, my lord."

Sam stirred trying to stay awake, "I won't have any other healer on me master," he said, his voice calmer now.

"Oh?" said Aragorn, raising an eyebrow. "I was hoping you would. Elrond will be arriving shortly."

Sam took a shaky breath, "Elrond? The elf lord? Coming to tend Mr. Frodo again?!"

"Yes, Sam, he knows how to enter Frodo's mind and find him, wherever he may be lost. He found him once he'll find him again."

Tears filled Sam's eyes, "Oh, Strider there's hope! Just like last time! We'll find him again!"

Envin smiled blearily. "I suppose my services will no longer be needed?"

"No, Envin," said Aragorn, "You may still tend Frodo until he is cured, by your hands or anothers. Elrond's healing skills go far beyond even my own. Unless you can give me a reason that makes you unfit to tend him?"

Envin bowed his head, "My treatment is-"

"It already has my approval!" cried Sam and Aragorn raised his eyebrows at Sam again.

"It took *me* a good deal longer to gain your trust, Samwise." Sam blushed furiously.

Envin continued after a short pause. "I cut him. But I cleaned and dressed the wound. I cut with a surgical knife and made the wound clean and proper."

"What did you hope to accomplish?"

"A reaction. And I got it, my lord. Please, sir, I know this is questionable but it's worked!"

Aragorn glanced from Sam to Envin then turned to Frodo. He approached the hobbit and gazed into his dazed expression. He reached for the hobbit's arm and unfastenned the bandages. He examined the cut and nodded. "It's clean. But you must be sure he does not lose a lot of blood."

"I was, my lord."

"He does not seem changed."

"His pulse quickened and when I poured water into that hand he gasped before."

"He what!?" cried Pippin as he ran to his cousin. "He spoke- that is to say he- well he- he reacted?" Tears filled the young hobbit's eyes as he held his limp cousin tightly. "Oh Frodo you can make it! Please!" The hobbit in his arms did not blink, just fell into the embrace limply, arms dangling as that of a rag doll. His curly head fell to Pippin's shoulder and lay to rest as his eyes stared dreamily into the abyss. Merry put a hand on Pippin's shoulder and helped prop Frodo back up. Frodo's mouth had fallen partly open as if he were caught in that gasp, the moment water touched his hand. His hand was still wet and upturned as if cupping a trickling stream. He seemed so utterly shocked at something that happened quite a long time ago, his face caught in a dreamy yet startled expression. It was no longer blank and emotionless. Soon his face would fall and his hand would relax as all muscles must do, his expression would turn back to it's witless dreamy state and the existance of expression would no longer exist. Pippin was just overjoyed to see it. Merry let tears fall unchecked.

"Do you think Elrond can bring him back?" whispered Pippin to no one in particular.

"Keep hope, cousin Took, keep hope," answered Merry.