Disclaimer I don't own them, just wish that I did… sigh. They belong to the wonderful professor named J.R.R Tolkien…
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Chapter 3
Not being able to get loose and escape, the ranger tried to rest as much as he could. He would need his strength if they were going to escape.
It was but all too soon that the sun was once showing herself. Frodo had lain in a fitful sleep all throughout the night. If you can call it sleep when in fact he is unconscious. The ranger could see the flush in the otherwise pale face and the Hobbit's curls were damp with sweat. If they didn't get away soon, it would be too late for this young one.
He just hoped that his plan would work. Those fools! Why did they think that the Hobbits had treasures hidden away? The only story that came close was the treasure of Bilbo after his great adventure many years ago. But the Big People didn't believe that story; outside of Bree, many didn't even believe that Hobbits were real!
The ranger was alerted to a noise. Looking up he saw the leader approaching. The man looked at Frodo with a look of madness in his eyes. The ranger had seen that look before in men; it was the look of gold-fever, nothing would keep him from finding the (non-existing in this case) treasure.
To divert the man's attention away from Frodo, the ranger spoke. "I believe we'll be going soon?"
The man tore his gaze away from Frodo and looked at the man in front of him. "We're going right now, little ranger." He looked over his shoulder and shouted. "Yo Smarty! Come here!"
When Smarty was near he spoke to him again. "Free him of the ropes. Adjust the ones round his ankles so that our dear little ranger can walk, but so that he won't be able to run away and escape." Now the leader removed a knife from his belt and bent low to Frodo, holding the blade against his neck as Smarty set out to do what he had been told. "Try anything and you'll regret it!"
The ranger didn't move. The worry he was feeling for the little Hobbit was growing every minute. He still hadn't regained consciousness and the wheezing seemed to get worse.
When at last Smarty was finished, the leader removed his knife from Frodo's neck and drew instead a sword. "Pick him up, ranger!" He sneered, showing his sword so that his captive knew that he would not hesitate to use it on either one of them.
"Let me check on the Halfling first. His condition troubles me greatly." The leader looked as if he would have none of it, but the ranger said. "Come on! What am I going to do? Six against one and a sick Halfling! It's not possible for me to escape!"
The leader looked suspiciously at his captive. He didn't trust him, but what would it hurt? The Halfing couldn't die before he had his treasure! Eventually he nodded.
The ranger knelt beside Frodo and felt his forehead. Burning up! He then carefully loosened Frodo's shirt. Both sides were black and blue and on one side he thought he could see the imprint of a boot. When I get my hands on that bastard he'll regret this! With a feather light touch he probed the Hobbit's ribs.
The ranger frowned; he could feel broken ribs and some were definitely cracked. He put his ear to Frodo's chest and listened. There was congestion in his lungs, but not the sound that would be present when one of his lungs would be pierced. He sighed, thank goodness, if that had been the case, it would be a very bad prospect for the little Hobbit.
Just then Frodo's eyes fluttered open. He struggled briefly against the ropes still binding him, giving up almost instantly as it seemed too much of an effort to even move the smallest bit. His eyes focussed on the strange man in front of him. He coughed weakly, confusion clear in his eyes.
"Wh-what?" he whispered, gasping for breath as soon as the word left his mouth.
The ranger placed his finger on Frodo's lips and placed his mouth close to Frodo's ear, pretending to be examining him still so he had the chance to talk to him.
"Shh, little one. I'm examining your wounds. Don't try to talk and lie still. I'm sure you're hurting a lot, Frodo."
Frodo looked at the man in front of him. Recognition filled his eyes as memory flooded back and he spared a fleeting glance at his surroundings, seeing the other men. Then he looked the ranger in the eyes upon hearing his own name. "How?" he mouthed.
A wry smile came over the ranger's lips. "I'm a friend of Bilbo and Gandalf, you've probably heard of me one time or another." Upon seeing the questioning look, he said. "Call me Strider. I know you haven't heard that name before… It's one of the many that I have."
Frodo coughed again. Only this time, more violently. The ranger gently rolled him on his side and rubbed his back, waiting for the fit to pass. When it had, Frodo lay limp on the ground, having passed out. Strider gently rolled the young Hobbit on his back, concerned when he saw that the little one had coughed up blood.
"We're going NOW, so get a move on!" Yelled the leader.
"Won't you release him from his bonds? He is not in any state to run away. He can hardly move as it is!" Strider pleaded to their captor.
"The answer is 'no' and now do as I say!" the leader snapped.
Strider sighed and wiped the Hobbit's mouth clean of the blood. He buttoned up Frodo's shirt and drew his own cloak around the small form, hoping to keep out the chill. Then he carefully picked up the unconscious Halfling. The ranger looked at the man, a question in his eyes. The leader, reading the gaze correctly, pointed his sword at him. "You lead us to the treasure, go on now! We'll follow."
Strider set out in one direction. The survival of Frodo and himself lay now in the hands of one man, if only the timing was right…
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TBC
