The Strength of One Small
Chapter Eight-A Glimmer of Hope
Sam couldn't ever remember such weariness. It was even worse than he remembered when Strider and Glorfindel had urged them on toward Rivendell. Above all, Sam wished that this hadn't happened to all of them. He wished he had been injured instead of Frodo. If his master was going to die, he wished that he could have been killed instantly to start with instead of being forced to endure such pain before the end. Thoroughly exhausted, Sam stumbled several times and moments later felt strong arms lifting him up as he dimly heard Aragorn's rough voice. "Rest a while Samwise, you have done well today." So the gardener slept, reluctantly giving in to the beckoning blackness.
There was no moon that night and a cold wind cut through even the thickest cloaks. Their pace had slowed to a crawl once again, and even Legolas was slowly becoming weary. Only half alert, he didn't see the light in front of them until they were very close to it. He sensed eyes watching them and came abruptly to a halt. A melodic voice called out viciously and full of malice, cautioning them, "One more step and you die."
Legolas felt, rather than saw, Aragorn set Sam on the ground and come up beside him. He tried to warn him to go no further, but the ranger pushed by him calling confidently, "Elladan, Elrohir! I don't know why you are this far from Imladris, but you are a welcome sight to our eyes."
"Estel! What are you doing here?" Two identical figures emerged from the trees, the outlines of their faces energetic and excited as they embraced their brother roughly. Then they looked at each member of the fellowship in turn, quickly becoming concerned when they saw the injured hobbits and the overall weariness of the entire fellowship.
It was Elrohir who spoke first after the long silence, "What has befallen you and your companions, my brother?"
Aragorn sighed and ran his fingers through his hair and gestured to Frodo's limp form. "We were pursued by orcs, and he was running and somehow plunged down a cliff. I don't know how it happened exactly, but he landed on stake of some sort. It went all the way through his chest. I'm afraid even more damage was caused when we removed it, but we had no other choice. Poor Merry was bitten by a soft mouth, nothing we have done has been able to slow the poison that now flows through his veins."
"Estel," Elladan gasped, at last seeing the wound in Frodo's chest, "How is he still alive? You said this happened several days ago?"
"Yes, it happened about two days ago, and we've almost lost him several times. And Merry, well, the poison is quickly taking hold. He cannot fight it much longer. We must get them to Ada," the ranger replied. Though he spoke in the tongue of men out of respect for his comrades, he found himself unable to keep himself from using the long familiar elvish term.
"Do you have horses?" Boromir asked, coming up beside them with a limp Pippin in his arms. He looked relieved beyond words to see the elves, though his voice sounded gruff and demanding. Worry and weariness sharpened his tongue.
Elrohir nodded, "Yes, we have three. Ada sent us on a rather large hunting expedition because we will have guests arriving from Mirkwood in less than a fortnight."
"Mirkwood!" Legolas exclaimed eagerly, his tiredness washing away at news of his homeland. "Do you know who? Surely not my father?"
Elladan shook his head, "I am not certain of the guests. There is to be a counsel and discussion of the old alliances, so it is possible he might attend."
Gruffly, Gimli interrupted, "Enough jawing-these hobbits need to get to Lord Elrond. We must keep moving."
The twins glared, but surprisingly, it was Legolas who quickly intervened, "No, Master Gimli is quite right. I will see everything for myself soon enough. Time is precious, none can be spared for idle speech. You are both fresh, you should take them on ahead."
The ring bearer groaned as he was gently transferred to Elladan's waiting arms. The elf cradled the halfling as though he was holding a baby and soothed him in his soft, elven tongue. The other twin gingerly took Merry from Gimli, who very grudgingly released the hobbit into the elf's care, forcing himself to bite his tongue to avoid warning the elf to exercise special care and gentleness with the hobbit. It would be a long time before Gimli learned to trust as his four hobbit friends did.
Elrohir was amazed that Merry still lived and frowned when he at last got a good look at the blackened foot.
Once mounted, the twins straightened in the saddle, and Elladan turned to Aragorn, assuring him, "We will get them to father. There is hope yet."
They started to leave when a weary Sam struggled forward and ran in front of their horse, begging pitifully, "Please, you have another horse, can I not go with you?"
Elladan smiled down at him, "Very well, but someone will have to ride with you. Aragorn, perhaps you should come as well so you can tell father about their injuries. You can ride with Samwise, but if you lag behind, we will not slow." The elf was clearly wasting no words as he became aware of the graveness of the situation.
The ranger nodded and helped Sam onto the spare horse, "I wouldn't expect you to slow. Go now, we will follow." When they were out of sight, Aragorn turned to the others, "Legolas, you know what to do for minor injuries. Keep Pippin warm. Good luck." The elf placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We will be fine. Speed to you, you will be needed. Namarie!"
Poor Pippin was too tired to lift his head from Boromir's shoulder and protest that he wished to go as well, so he was left behind. He felt cold and terribly lonely in this strange forest with none of his kin. They trudged on for a while until Gandalf decided it was time to stop. "We must rest. Going on without sleep will only do harm to ourselves now."
Gimli and Legolas protested in unison, surprised that they actually agreed on something. Gimli managed a tired smile at this development, and the prince shrugged briefly. The Steward's son and the tired tween barely lifted their heads. They were too weary to protest, though they wished to go on, as they felt like a hindrance to the others.
"Gimli, you need rest. We all need rest. And Legolas, you may be elfkind, but you have stumbled thrice, and your eyelids are heavy. Even an elf cannot go without rest. Please, lay down for a little while. I will keep watch while you sleep."
The elf sighed and sank down to the ground under the refuge of an ancient tree. His eyes didn't close, but soon filled with a faraway look. He barely noticed Gimli's loud snoring, which had resounded through the woods the moment the dwarf had stretched out on the forest floor.
Pippin, frightfully pale and exhausted, curled up into a ball next to Boromir's sleeping form. Gandalf started a small fire to keep them warm and gazed into the black wood watchfully.
When the sun rose, Elladan at last slowed and motioned for Elrohir to pull up next to him, saying softly, "Look, the halfling is bleeding again. The jarring from riding has aggravated his wound. I fear he will lose much more blood by the time we reach the borders of Rivendell. How does Meriadoc fare?"
"Not well," the normally playful twin answered grimly, "His fever still climbs and delirium has taken hold. He is in great pain and has cried out several times for Peregrin and some other name I do not recognize-perhaps a young hobbit girl he left behind. I wish Estel were here. How strange that we have lived so much longer than he, yet he knows more about the healing of the ill and injured than we do."
"We'll have to manage on our own this time." While Elrohir waited, his brother dismounted and laid Frodo on the forest floor and began the time-consuming task of slowly and tightly changing the bandages on his chest.
The hobbit trembled, then moaned. Barely detectable, a word escaped his lips, "Sam…" The twins looked at each other, trying to discern whether the word was spoken in delirium or if the hobbit was returning to painful consciousness.
Gently, Elladan shook the hobbit's wrist, taking extra caution not to jar him, "Frodo, Sam will be here soon. This is Elladan, do you remember? Lord Elrond's son."
He did not expect a reply, so it came as a shock when the halfling croaked, "…'dan…'member…Riv…dell." The sentences were chopped and barely audible even to Elladan, but the words brought a smile to the elf's face.
"Okay Frodo, I want you to be completely honest with me. Do you thirst? What about the pain?"
There was a cough and sputter that might have been a sarcastic laugh, but the hobbit replied, "Nothing…you…do…"
Elladan sighed heavily when the hobbit went limp again, but supposed that it was for the best. If they were to reach Rivendell in time, they would be forced to ride hard, and that would cause Frodo great pain if he were conscious.
Mounting again as he gently cradled the injured hobbit in his arms, the elf let his brother take the lead as they continued toward their father's house.
A/N: I have taken some liberties with this chapter in assuming that the hobbits have been well acquainted with everyone in Rivendell as a result of their previous stay.