A/N: This is very painful chapter in Frodo's fan fiction life. If you are squeamish, you might want to prepare yourself. It's not too graphic as those kinds of fanfics go, just rather detailed. Think of this chapter as a Lord of the Rings homage to ER. Once again, nothing you read is a true medical procedure, so don't try it at home or in an emergency.

Chapter Four-Agony and Other Problems

Realizing there was no way to remove the stake gently or painlessly, Aragorn elected to do it quickly. He knew that no matter what happened, the bleeding must be tended to first. The procedure, he also knew, would not only cause more bleeding, but could greatly aggravate Frodo's injuries. The ranger sighed, greatly aggravate was an understatement. Gripping the stake with both hands, he gave a mighty jerk and a scream pierced the night. It was Frodo's scream.

Boromir's story halted and everyone trained frightened eyes on the body of Frodo, who was writhing in pain against the gentle hands that held him in place. Pippin couldn't make himself look away, but clung to his cousin Merry in fear. Even the optimistic Sam's cheeks were streaked with tears, and he was white with the fear that he might lose his master.

All this, and the stake hadn't budged, but the hobbit's bleeding had increased. This, Strider knew, did not bode well. He realized with fear that even if Lord Elrond were present, they could still lose the ring bearer. He knew now that if he left the stake as it was, Frodo would bleed to death, perhaps in minutes. He wished now that he hadn't delayed, all that precious blood that had spilled slowly while they waited for the right moment would have been a great help to his friend. Ignoring Frodo's expression of agony as best he could, he once again gripped the stake and gave a mighty tug. To his relief, it gave a little. The hobbit bucked and cried out once again at the excruciating pain. Sam tightened his grip on his master's hand.

Frightened by the amount of pain he was causing Frodo, Aragorn wished ardently that he could quit. Gandalf gave him a reassuring nod, "It's best to hurry and get it over with."

The ranger nodded and once more pulled on the stake, throwing all his weight into it. The halfling cried out, calling hysterically for Bilbo, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as the wizard and the elf stained to hold him still. The blue orbs of the hobbit pleaded with him to make it all go away.

"Once more, Frodo, then no more, I promise, just hold on."

Aragon's words had no effect. The hobbit didn't even acknowledge his presence. He only stared blankly. The pain was too great. At that point, the ring-bearer wished they would let him die. Never had he felt such pain.

Trembling and nauseous, Aragorn once again tightened his grip on the stake. He jerked as hard as he could and Frodo shrieked in agony, but then his shriek died down to a whimper. As Legolas tightened his gentle yet firm hold, the hobbit began to thrash.

Blood began to pour from the wound and Legolas quickly laid Frodo against Gandalf and moved out of Aragon's way. The ranger was already pressing as hard as he dared on the gaping holes in Frodo's chest and back. Even more alarming, however, were the heaves Frodo made as he tried to suck air into his lungs. Legolas' eyes widened and he grabbed the hobbits wrist. "Aragorn, is there nothing we can do? His pulse races so."

"Gandalf, I'm going to move my hand from his back. I want you to resume pressure as I let up."

The wizard gazed down at Frodo's form. "He is in shock. The trauma to his chest has been aggravated." There was no emotion behind the words, but Aragorn looked into the wizard's eyes and saw that they were glistening with emotion.

Aragorn gritted his teeth as he continued trying to stop the blood flow, "There is nothing I can do until the bleeding is slowed. Legolas, see if you can get his attention."

The elf nodded in determination as his friend began to pack bandages into the large wound, "Frodo, Frodo! Listen to me! I want you to take a deep breath and look at me. I know you hear me, just follow my voice." The hobbit didn't respond. At this, Sam buried his head in his hands and began to sob. A horrified Pippin saw this and hid his face in Boromir's cloak. Even Merry, always the firm, yet humorous one, turned away to hide his tears.

At long last, the bleeding slowed, then tapered off, allowing Aragorn to secure the bandages as tightly as he dared, criss-crossing them around Frodo's chest in a desperate attempt to keep air and blood from escaping. Taking Frodo's head into his lap, he forced the hobbit's eyes open to find that they had rolled back into his head. Almost panicking, the ranger knew what was coming.

The small halfling began to convulse as his body shut down. "Hold him still!" Aragorn ordered, hoping this wouldn't aggravate the hobbit's injuries any further. Frodo did not have any blood to spare. Locking eyes with Legolas, Strider told him urgently, "We have to get him to my father. I can only do so much to help him here."

Finally, the thrashing ceased and Aragorn turned and located Legolas' spare cloak and wrapped it snuggly around the shivering hobbit, then he did the same with his own as well. Gandalf took the hobbit into his arms as if Frodo were only a wee hobbit child. "Aragorn," he said with a concerned, though soft, voice, "He is burning with fever."

The ranger sighed and shook his head, "That is the least of our worries right now. The orcs are still out there somewhere, Rivendell is several days away, and-" he lowered his voice, "Frodo barely clings to life. His wounds need to be sealed, and I fear he can't stand to lose anymore blood. He needs bed rest and his injuries cannot be jarred further."

With the immediate crisis over, Aragorn stood shakily, the stumbled. His head was swimming. He knew what was about to happen, and he felt ashamed that the others should see it. The bile rose in his throat and he staggered to the side and retched. He had seen grave injuries in his time, but to be the cause of such pain to a friend. His stomach rebelled completely. He could only hope that the four at the fire took no notice.

"Could we not give him some blood? My people do that often when one has a serious injury," Legolas suggested when he returned, politely ignoring his friend's moment of weakness.

Strider sighed, "I don't have the supplies or knowledge of that procedure. If we were to make even one error, then it could mean death for Frodo."

Legolas was thoughtful for a moment, "He can yet survive without the procedure, so let us gather the supplies we may need and perform it only if we have no other choice."

"Let us hope that it is not needed."

Suddenly there was a sharp cry. All eyes turned to Frodo, but it was not Frodo who had cried out.

Aragorn's worried eyes drifted to Pippin, then to Merry's still form. Boromir was leaning over the hobbit in concern. A dead snake lay at his feet. The man paled as he examined Merry's foot. There were two tiny holes near the top.

"Calm down, Merry," Boromir soothed as Aragorn crossed the distance between them, "It may not be that bad."

"B-but it's a soft mouth!" (1)

"The venom may not have been injected," Boromir explained, trying to keep the hobbit from panicking, but Aragorn knew it probably had. The foot was already swollen, and a small amount of blood trickled from the puncture wounds. The ranger flashed a look at Boromir that warned him to keep the hobbit distracted. Borrowing one of Legolas' hunting knives, he made a neat incision over the two small holes.

(1)-Very dangerous venomous snake in Middle Earth, not unlike a cottonmouth.