A/N: Hey howdy hey! (Lame saying)

Sorry it's been awhile, I got busy, but now I'm better for the moment. I'm working on the 8th chapter now, so it should beup in a few weeks. So... yeah..

Disclaimer: I don't anything... but I AM working on my evil plan to take over the world and turn everyone into hobbits! MWAH! THEN I will own everything!

Mary: Thankies:D

Anna: Thank you! I'm glad you like.

Piratica: Howdy! Heh, sorry about the typos. I looked, and I didn't see anything... Hmm... It might be my Word doc. doesn't work with your computer, maybe? I hope no one else sees it like that. Hopefully this one is better. :D

lathalian: Thank you! And no, this is NOT going to be a 10th (11th, heh) Walker story. You're right, there are WAY too many of those. I hope I didn't wait too long to update! Again, sorry it's been awhile. :(

DeRaNgEd TeEn: Thank ya for the review. Thanks for the (meep! um... you gave me... suggestions! I dunno what to call it... I wouldn't exzactly call it constructive critism... AG! Now I'm confused! Oh well) Anyway.. thanks.. I really didn't even think of the Ring tempting Lilka at the moment. Yes, she probably DID read about it when she was reading the book, and I'll record her thoughts about that in the next chapter. But I think at the moment, she hasn't SEEN the ring (because Frodo keeps it in his pocket, and she was freaking out when he put it on at the RingWraith's attack) so she's really not too tempted by it. Plus, her only thing is, she just wants to go home, not have power to the masses. :P. But now that just gave me an idea... Thankies! Must... go... write... down!

Okay, on to the 7th chapter!


Chapter 7

Merry's POV:

I can feel my breathing grow shallow as I slowly take off Frodo's shirt to reveal his wound.

I have never seen a wound before. Never. It is bloody and the cut is deep.

How are you suppose to "bath a wound"? Do you just soak it in water?

"Pip, help me out." I say gently.

Pippin stops staring at Frodo's wound and looks at me blankly.

"What am I suppose to do?" He says unsteadily.

"Get his mind off his wound. I don't want him to feel much pain."

"Right."

"I am awake you silly gooses, don't pretend that I'm asleep!" Frodo teases, trying to hide the pain that he is in.

He can't cover it this time; he's as pale as I've ever seen, not to mention his face is twisted in pain and fear.

Pippin smiles and touches his face gently. "It's okay, Frodo. It won't hurt a bit…"

I glare at Pippin. It WILL hurt.

"What!"

I shake my head, "Never mind, keep talking."

"Just think of the Shire, and the Green Dragon, and…" He thinks for a moment. "And about Bilbo, and Bag End."

While Pippin is talking, I proceed to tear the bottom of my shirt into a couple of strips and dip them in the water. It has cooled down, so it's not quite as hot.

"Steady now, Frodo…" I say quietly as I place the strip on his wound.

"Ah!" Frodo winces and cries out a bit as the hot strips touch the bare wound.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Strider said to do this. Now just a couple more minuets…"

I continue to bath the wound, while Pippin tries to tell about the time when we got into the cupboard full of the eggs, flour, and sugar and attempted to make cookies. Which was unsuccessful, I might add.

That story quickly made Frodo forget some his pain, and even chuckle a couple of times; but only for a few minuets.

"Pip, we must let Frodo rest now," I say after he finishes his story.

Pippin nods, and grabs another blanket, and covers Frodo.

"Please get better, Frodo." He whispers before he goes to Sam to see what Strider had said.

I see Frodo's eyelids droop, and finally close, and his breath grow in the long, deep breaths of sleep.

"Do get well, Frodo. I cannot stand to see you like this…" I say softly as I try and calm my fears.

He won't die, will he?


Pippin's POV:

"So he's gone again…" I sigh sullenly as we sit by the fire, every once and awhile feeling Frodo's brow and bathing his wound.

"Yes, he said he was looking for something in the woods that would help Frodo. I'm not sure what it is though…" Sam says.

I glance at Lilka, still sitting the same way she was, hours ago.

"What are we suppose to do with Lilka?" I say, lowering my voice.

"I'm not sure, do you think we should have her help us bathe Frodo's wound?" Sam asks

"No…" Merry says suddenly. "Look at her staring at it, she's scared stiff. I don't think she'll want to do that, it'll scare her even more."

"You're right…" I agree, "What shall we do to help her though?"

"I don't know… Maybe we should wait until Strider gets back…" Sam says.

"Sam, I thought you didn't trust Strider!" Merry says in surprise.

"I didn't…" Sam says, "But… He said something to me that you couldn't help but trust him after he said it. His mask he's been hidin' behind just fell away, and I could see him for real. I… I trust him now."

"Well… That's good!" I exclaim.

Frodo stirs and moan in his sleep, and instantly we huddle around him, seeing if he needs something; anything that can lessen the pain.

He drifts back off into a light sleep again, and we sigh in relief and sit back.

This is going to be a long night.


"The sun's finally rising!" Sam sighs in relief as adds another piece of wood to the fire.

"You hear that, Frodo? The sun's finally rising! The Black Riders won't be coming back now!" I exclaim in relief.

Everyone (except Frodo) glares at me.

I grimace.

I said the wrong thing again. Why am I constantly saying or doing the wrong thing?

"Sorry." I whisper.

I glance down the hill and see Strider coming quickly up to us.

How can he STILL not be worn out? He was up and about all night.

"Look!" He cries, stooping down to the ground and bringing up a large piece of black cloth.

"It's one of their cloaks!" Merry gasps.

"Yes," Strider says, "And look at this," He showed the lower part of the cloak to us; a slash. "This was from Frodo's sword. This is the only hurt it did to the enemy, I fear. But more deadly to him was the name of Elbereth."

I wonder who Elbereth is, but Strider is already saying something else.

"And more deadly to Frodo was this!" He holds out a long, thin knife.

I shiver slightly. It looks…. Evil. I never knew a knife could look evil, but this one does.

Strider raises up the knife, and I see that the end is notched; a part of it is cut off.

Could that part of the knifebe in Frodo?

Realization dawns on me: Frodo really can die. My beloved cousin, one of my best friends: dead.

"We have to help him!" I cry out.

As I say this, the sun slowly beams its rays on our tired bodies, and on the evil-looking knife. As soon as the light touches the knife, the blade becomes like smoke; and vanishes.

I look at it in amazement. It disappeared. Strider seems concerned, but doesn't look surprised, as if he were expecting it all along.

I glance down at Frodo, almost jumping at the whiteness on his face. He IS that wounded. I try and resist the tears that are coming to my eyes again.

"Can you help him, Strider?" Sam asks worriedly.

"I'm no elven healer, Sam, but I'll do what I can." Strider says reassuringly, as he kneels down beside Frodo.

He takes the leftover hilt of the knife and starts singing slowly; in a strange language I've never heard before.

He puts it down on the ground and uncovers Frodo's blanket to look at the wound.

He shakes his head slightly, and brings out a small pouch from his belt, and takes out some long leaves from a plant.

I stare at them; Leaves! How can leaves help?

"These leaves," Strider says as he starts crushing one of the leaves with his fingers, "I have walked far to find; for this plant doesn't grow in the bare hills, but in the thickets and woods off by the road.

What's that smell? It smells so…. sweet. I realize that it's coming from the leaves. I can feel myself relaxing: something I haven't done all night. Also I felt calmed, and not so afraid.

Strider starts to batheFrodo's wound with the sweet-scented leaves. I hope it will help him: I hope it's not too late.


Strider's POV:

Frodo is in poorer health than before; I can see that his pain is worse, and we had a hard time getting him on the pony, for he was weak and exhausted.

We have started off again, Frodo riding on Bill (as Sam calls him) and the rest of us carrying the packs and supplies. I can tell the others are tired, scared, and confused; but we must press on.

I can see no signs of the Ringwraiths, but I fear that they will come, and attack fiercer than ever.

My only hope is Rivendell, but even that hope grows slimmer as the day wanes. There is hardly any way that we can make it in time. No one survives long when stabbed by a Morgul Blade.

Of course, there is always hope. Frodo may be able to make it; without any more attacks from the Nazguls.


A/N: Meepness! I hope that this isn't too short! Sorry if it is, like I said, I hope to get the 8th chapter up really soon... first I have to finish it. :P

-Pip