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 4
They had been walking for some time now and Strider worried about the small Halfling; he hadn't regained consciousness since before they started and the bonds were cutting off the circulation to his hands and feet. Strider had tried to persuade the men to release Frodo from his bonds – he was unconscious, he would not run – but the men were cruel and denied him every time.
"Please, we must stop for some time. The Halfling is getting worse, I need to cool him down," Strider one more time dared to ask the one in charge.
The leader looked at Frodo. Though unconscious, he was shivering, but even from a small distance he could feel the heat emanating from the small form. Damned pest is gonna die on us soon, he thought grimly. "You have five minutes," he told Strider, handing him a canteen filled with water, "I suggest you use them well."
Strider gently put Frodo down on the ground. He felt Frodo's body, checking to see if his ribs had grown worse. The colouring was worse than before and the imprint of a boot was now clearly visible. Strider bit his lip and tore a strip of his own shirt, wetting it with some cool water and sponging the Hobbit.
Frodo stirred under his ministrations and his eyes fluttered open. Strider noticed that they were glazed over. A sure sign of delirium, what with the fever and all. "It's going to be all right, little one. Just hang on a little longer."
Frodo didn't seem to hear him. He blinked slowly, not seeing his surroundings. "B… Bil… bo?" he croaked, confused.
Strider gently stroked Frodo's hair in a soothing manner. "You'll see him soon, little one. Soon…" Strider hoped he wasn't lying to the Hobbit.
Frodo tried to move – he felt very uncomfortable and he couldn't feel his hands and feet – but even that slight movement sent pain shooting up his body. His eyes fluttered closed against his will and his breathing evened out, leaving him into merciful darkness. A sound was heard with every breath he took – the congestion was getting worse.
Please be there soon. Strider prayed. He had led the band of thugs to a well trodden road, well… at least well trodden by a certain Wizard he knew. And that Wizard had plans to visit his favourite Hobbit – Bilbo Baggins.
"Time's up!" the leader of the band of thugs said, "We're moving on, so pick up that Halfling and lead on! I can see treasure in my future."
Strider sighed as he carefully picked Frodo up again and he started walking. If Gandalf didn't show up, it would have disastrous consequences; the thugs would realize he had fooled them and they would kill Frodo. Him too, but that hardly mattered to him – he would fight will all his might should anything happen to his young saviour – he wouldn't have anything to lose then but his own foolish self.
Smarty walked up close to the ranger. "You know what I wanna do with that troublesome Hobbit when we're done?" he sneered suggestively in a tone Strider didn't like.
"Yo, Smarty! Stop babbling and start watching the surroundings! Ranger! Are we almost there yet?" the leader shouted.
"Almost, perhaps a few more hours until we reach the place where the treasure is hidden."
The thug was not happy to hear that it was still a couple of hours until he had gained his riches, but he said nothing further. Instead the man tried to convince himself that he could wait – that he was a patient, soon to be rich man…
Strider walked with Frodo, getting increasingly worried by the minute, when he heard something. He looked up and searched his surroundings, making sure the thugs didn't notice his movements. The ranger could have sworn he heard something!
The thugs hadn't heard anything, but that wasn't surprising. Strider had lived his entire life amongst the elves and his hearing, though not as keen as theirs, was far superior to that of another mortal.
All of a sudden, Draco, who had been walking far to their right, shouted to the others. "Hey! Looks what I found here!"
They all stopped and Strider was forced to walk to where Draco stood. Not such a big distance away, in a clearing, an old man was sitting next to a cart which lay on its side. The man wore a pointy blue hat and was dressed in grey. A staff was in one hand. He seemed distressed and looked as if he was pondering how to solve a problem, running a hand along his grey beard.
The old man looked up from his ponderings and spotted the men. He looked at each man until his eyes fleetingly met those of Strider holding Frodo. Strider held in a small smile.
Then the old man's eyes returned to what he thought to be the leader of the group. He rose unsteadily, leaning heavily on his staff and said: "And why, if I may ask, have you captured a man and a Halfling?"
The leader raised his eyebrow, "That's none of your business, old man. And you'd better get lost soon, or else –"
But before he could finish the sentence, the old man interrupted him. "You'll what?"
The leader held his sword high and tried to intimidate the old man. The old man simply raised one bushy eyebrow. "If your plot is to frighten me, young man, you are not succeeding. I have seen much worse to be scared of a wet behind the ears thug."
The leader looked at his fellow thugs. "Wet behind the ears thug? Mates - kill him," he ordered. "And then take that stone he has in his staff, it looks as if it can be sold for a fair price." The thugs ran to the old man, preparing to strike him with their swords, when the old man raised his staff and spoke some words under his breath.
There was an enormous flash of light, blinding Strider momentarily. When he could see again, he saw six snails crawling on the forest floor. A small smile was on the old man's face, who was shaking his head. "They really should have known better than to anger a Wizard," he mumbled.
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TBC