A/N: Due to hobbit pain and some future medical treatments, I am upgrading the rating to PG-13 just to be safe. There is still no slash, sex, or profanity. Disclaimer is at the beginning of the story. Here is the official "do not try this at home statement": Medical treatments and procedures used in this story are from my imagination. I have little medical knowledge, so do not try what you read.

Chapter Three-Up the Cliff

Aragorn continued to look over Frodo. He didn't want any surprises on the way back up the cliff. He was relieved to observe that Frodo didn't have a torn artery. The blood flow would most likely have been easily stopped by his skill, but for the stake through Frodo's chest. It was very near the hobbit's heart and had most certainly damaged his right lung. The ranger was at a loss as to why Frodo was not experiencing more difficulty breathing, but he was grateful. In any other time or place, he wouldn't have moved the halfing, but in this case, it was necessity.

"Legolas, I want you to carry Frodo back up. Your feet are the swiftest, and the surest. I fear that I would jostle him too severely in his weakened condition."

The elf's voice was hushed, "But mellon nin, should we not attempt to treat him first?"

The ranger replied in equally hushed elvish, deliberately leaving Sam out of the conversation, "If I remove the stake now, he may begin bleeding quite profusely. We do not know the full extent of his injuries and I cannot risk worsening them while he must yet be moved. If he goes into further shock, getting him back up the cliff will prove much more perilous for Frodo."

The elf nodded with understanding, even as Sam glared at the two friends suspiciously. Aragorn ignored him and turned back to Frodo, "Can you move your legs for me?"

The hobbit moved his foot almost imperceptibly. The movement brought a deep grimace to his face.

"Excellent, Frodo. That means the injury is confined to your chest." The ranger was relieved that Frodo had no spinal injuries that would prevent moving him. He continued slowly, almost as if apologizing, "In just a moment, Legolas if going to lift you and bear you back up the cliff. We're going to be moving you quite quickly. You will probably feel sick and dizzy. Sam will go with me."

Sam nodded tearfully that he understood and almost sobbed when Frodo patted his hand to reassure him.

Legolas immediately sensed Frodo's life force deteriorating as he positioned the tiny hobbit carefully in his arms and allowed Aragorn to swiftly knot bandages around the stake so it wouldn't shift during the climb as Sam looked on with approval. How Frodo managed to hang on as they climbed up the cliff face, Legolas did not know. He noticed that even Sam had difficulty hanging on as the path steepened. The elf moved carefully and methodically, knowing that each jar caused the hobbit agony. It pained him every time he heard Frodo whimper as he tried to keep from crying out in pain.

The fellowship had mercifully made camp near to the cliff's edge, and Legolas was much relieved. Frodo's fragile body was trembling violently with pain and shock when he was at last leaned ackwardly against a tree. Legolas placed a calming hand on Frodo's brow, peering with concern at the eyes that were rolling wildly back into the hobbit's head. He sensed the entire fellowship crowding around them. After the longest few minutes of the elf's life, Aragorn emerged over the edge of the cliff. Not even stopping to regain his breath, the ranger found his footing and dashed over to join the small crowd. He didn't set Sam on the ground until he had reached Frodo's side.

Ever so gently, the ranger shook Frodo's shoulders. He needed to check that the move hadn't exacerbated any of the hobbit's injuries, "Stay with me, Frodo. I need you to tell me everywhere you feel pain."

The hobbit barely managed to croak out, "Head hurts a little…dizzy…chest…what 'appened, Strider?"

Aragorn placed a concerned hand on the halfing's shoulder, "You don't remember?"

Frodo shook his head slightly, "I fell…on something…hard to breathe."

"I know," the ranger soothed, "I'll have you patched up and back on the mend soon enough." He tried to sound optimistic for the sake of the hobbits, but he was far from it.

While motioning for Sam to come closer, the ranger asked softly, "Did you hit your head?"

The ring bearer shook his head once more, relaxing a bit when he felt Sam sit down beside him. He barely noticed Strider get up and riffle though his pack, not finding what he was looking for. Gandalf handed him something.

A few moments later, the ranger returned to Frodo's side and held a cup of foul smelling liquid to his lips, "Drink this. I will ease your pain." Frodo obeyed, and soon felt a bit like he was floating. He closed his eyes at the relief of having some of the dizziness subside.

"Why did you not put him to sleep?" Boromir asked softly, healing being well out of the realm of his extensive expertise.

"I want him alert for now, until I know sedating him will not suppress his breathing. When is asleep, I will remove the stake. It will not be long now. The bleeding cannot be stopped unless it is removed."

"It has slowed," Legolas reported in their shared tongue, "perhaps we could leave it in until we reach Rivendell?"

"Nay, my friend, that would be unwise. He could be bleeding internally, in which case a wait could kill him. I don't know how much blood a hobbit can lose, but Frodo has lost more than enough. That is why he is dizzy. He also needs to lie flat on his back, which he cannot do as long as the stake remains in his chest."

When at last the ring bearer began to drift off into a fitful slumber, Sam asked fearfully, "How bad is it? And don't you sugarcoat it. I know it's bad, but I'm not a child, Mr. Strider!"

Aragorn often had to remind himself of that very fact. Of the hobbits, he conceded that only Pippin seemed to be a child. With a sigh, he replied, "He has lost a great deal of blood. If my guess is correct, he punctured a lung and has displaced some ribs as well. The stake missed his spine, which seems to be the only bright spot in this mess. He's got an uphill battle in front of him. He is going to have great difficulty breathing when I remove the stake."

"Why can you not leave it in then?" Sam asked rather frightfully.

The ranger sighed, he would not tell Sam what he had just told his elven companion, but he would not lie either, "It could become infected and it continues to bleed even now. With every jar it causes him pain. He will rest easier with it removed."

Pippin and Merry had not said a word since their cousin had been found at the bottom of the cliff. This was not lost on Boromir, or on Gimli, who both decided that the best way to be of service would be to distract the two younger hobbits from what could become a rather gruesome sight.

Gandalf approached them from the fire, carrying another foul-smelling cupful. "When are you going to remove it?"

"As soon as his breathing evens out and he sleeps soundly." Aragorn replied, "He will wake when I remove it." Fearfully, Strider looked up into the wizard's eyes, "I fear the pain will overcome him. He might not survive it, but it must be done."

Gandalf nodded, his sadness transparent. He had known the hobbit since Bilbo had adopted him and he didn't know if the old hobbit could go on if his beloved nephew died. Why was it always Frodo who had to overcome such grievous wounds. He'd have gladly taken them all upon himself.

After only a few more minutes, Aragorn nodded to Legolas and Gandalf. It was time. Boromir saw this and began to weave a lively story of Gondor to distract the worried young hobbits. Even Gimli would add his own comments, carefully disguising his worry with gruff jokes. Aragorn wrenched his gaze away from the fireside, where the four sat in thinly disguised misery, and turned to his companion. "This will be quite complex."

"How can we assist you, Estel?" Legolas offered.

"Gandalf, you brace him from behind, and you Legolas, brace him from the front. He will thrash, but you must hold him completely still so I don't injure him further," Aragorn instructed as he readied a pile of bandages he'd torn from one of his clean linen shirts. "Sam, you can let him know you're here and you can help me also. If I should run out of bandages, I will need you to fetch me more, and to follow any other instructions I give you."

Sam nodded and grasped Frodo's hand as if it were a lifeline as Legolas and Gandalf moved into position to hold Frodo down.