A/N: None of the medical procedures in this chapter or any other should be tried at home. They are from my active imagination.

Chapter Two: Hold On

The fellowship had been searching for Frodo unsuccessfully all night. As the sun rose, they came full circle and Legolas, Strider, and an almost hysterical Sam approached the cliff's edge. The ranger noted the long way down and cringed. It was the one place they hadn't ventured. He doubted Frodo would survive he had fallen that distance, and he prayed the hobbit wasn't down there. Hoping desperately that he wouldn't hear a reply, and that Frodo wasn't below to give one, Aragorn loudly called the hobbit's name.

Frodo struggled to push himself up, knowing he couldn't be heard while lying face down, but he it was if his arms weren't connected to the rest of his body. He couldn't move and struggling made each breath more painful than the last. Despite this, he tried desperately to yell a reply. His efforts made him lapse into a fit of coughing, though coughing wasn't an accurate description. It was more like choking, gagging. His eyes widened at the pain, and at the blood he suddenly tasted in his mouth.

"Aragorn! My ears hear something," Legolas shouted excitedly as he scanned the ground below with his keen eyes. Then he paled. The change in his complexion did not go unnoticed by Sam or Estel. The elf swiftly pulled the ranger aside and whispered softly what he had seen.

Aragorn looked sick, but announced, "We're going down. All of us. Frodo will be easier with Sam near him."

With Sam holding tightly to the elf's shoulders, the three started cautiously down the cliff face, being careful to find secure footing. When the hobbit saw his master, he cried out and ran the rest of the distance to Frodo's side, trying to lift him off the stake-like stump that had impaled him. Blood had stained the ground, and a steady stream was flowing from the wound. Sam cried between sobs, "Oh, Mr. Frodo, I'm so sorry. Please..."

"No! Sam, don't try to move him yet. The obstacle may be slowing the bleeding," Aragorn told him urgently as he quickly approached. His voice sounded calm to his own ears, though inside he was shaken. He'd seen men of renown perish with lesser wounds.

Legolas said a hand on his friend's shoulder, even as he drew Sam away, "His wound is grave, Estel. How is he still alive?"

Aragorn shook his head, then found with surprise that the hobbit was still very much awake. He knelt even closer to Frodo's face. The hobbit's blue eyes had lost their spark, and the hobbit gazed at him dully, but he was indeed conscious.

"Frodo, don't try to move anymore. I want you to blink if you understand me."

Slowly, the ring bearer's eyes closed and opened, and he mouthed, "Strider."

Aragorn smiled down at his friend, "That's right. Frodo. Now, I know you are in pain."

At last, Frodo found his voice, "It hurts…breathe…chest." He lapsed into a fit of coughing again, and Strider held his head carefully, frowning when he noticed the amount of blood the hobbit was coughing up. When the ranger brought his hands away, they were covered in blood.

Using the edge of his cloak to clean of the ring bearer's mouth, the ranger asked, "Frodo, can you still hear me?"

The hobbit blinked tiredly. Both Legolas and Aragorn could see that his consciousness was fading quickly. "We must act quickly, Estel."

Aragon nodded, also sensing the urgency. Before he proceeded, he wanted to explain to Frodo what was going on, to give some order to his disoriented world. "Legolas and I are going to get you back up this hill, then we are all going to take you back to Rivendell. The quest will merely be delayed for a while."

Frodo's heart screamed against this, knowing that time was of the utmost importance, but he was too exhausted to protest.

"Now Frodo, the first thing we are going to do is get you free. I cannot remove the stake yet, so we are going to separate the stake from the ground. We will try to spare you as much pain as possible, but don't try to stay conscious and ride out the pain. Legolas, I want you to hold this stake as still as you can. I'm going to slice it near to the ground so we can move Frodo. Sam, I want you to talk to him, and do your best to distract him."

Even the elf's firm hold on the stake, and Sam's soothing failed to spare the hobbit the excruciating pain he felt as the stake vibrated with each blow Aragorn delivered to it. The ranger almost sobbed when he saw the small body spasm with the pain he had caused, but he smoothed his face and continued his even strokes until the stake began to give way.

"Quick, catch him! If he falls forward the stake will damage his chest further!"

Legolas responded to his friend's warning before he finished speaking it. Sam, Aragorn, and Legolas worked together to carefully sit Frodo upright. Strider's eyes didn't have to be strained to see how the hobbit trembled, and he wished the stake wasn't impeding him from laying Frodo flat on his back. He reached for Frodo's wrist and paled in alarm at the racing pulse he found. The ring bearer's breathing had become even more shallow and ragged. Sam's eyes widened in panic when he saw this, but he knew he would hinder Strider if he stepped closer. He could only watch in horror.

Aragorn realized his helplessness, like he'd realized it that horrible night at the Watchtower of Amon Sul. "I need a blanket, and I really need my pack." Sam was off before he could ask, scrambling back up the edge of the cliff, where the rest of the fellowship had gathered, watching anxiously.

Legolas hastily undid the fastenings on his cloak and draped it over the trembling hobbit's shoulders, then laid a hand near the injury. This seemed to calm the hobbit, whose breathing evened ever so slightly.

Aragorn gently lowered the hobbit's head onto his own lap and called loudly, "Frodo! Frodo! Wake up! Listen to my voice, focus on it. Now follow it. That's it, open your eyes."

Dazed blue eyes gazed up at him, laced with pain and confusion. "Good, now take some good, deep breaths."

Frodo did as he was told and Legolas smiled as the hobbit's breathing returned to normal and his pulse slowed. Yet Aragorn knew that the worst was far from over. They had to get Frodo back up the cliff without injuring him further. Too much jostling, and he could die, Aragorn knew this only too well. His mind drifted briefly to distant memories as he watched Sam scramble back down the cliff with his pack.