Chapter 13—Reflections and Improvements

Merry's shivers returned almost immediately and Aragorn spent many long hours gently soothing him, calling him back if he strayed too far from life. When at last it was clear he could wait no longer, he began the slow process of warming the hobbit. First warm blankets, then warm compresses. The hobbit's shivers only grew more violent as his body slowly warmed. As morning neared, the ranger stroked the fire in the hearth and moved the hobbit as close to it as he dared. As the first rays of sunlight began to shine into the room, the blue tinge began to fade from the hobbit's face. Aragorn quickly checked the location of the snake bite and saw with satisfaction that it was pink. The poison was gone, and Aragorn was exhausted.

Meriadoc woke to his caretaker sleeping. Indeed, Aragorn was snoring loudly on the small bed. Turning his head, Merry saw that he had been bundled up in blankets and shoved near the hearth. It was sweltering now, and he felt like he'd been fairly swaddled. Last night, even in his dreams he had felt cold, but he didn't remember anything, only being lost in a dead forest that wound deeper and deeper into shadow. A gentle light had occasionally broken through the thick canopy and pointed the way home, and then he'd only gotten lost again. With a sigh, he shook the haunting dream from his mind and tried to sit up, only to find that he didn't have the energy to pull himself upright. Great. Now Pip would never let him hear the end of it. He was determined to at least appear on the mend by the time Pip reached Rivendell, then he frowned again. Supposing he'd already reached Rivendell, already seen him like this…

The arrival of Frodo caused a commotion late that morning, waking Aragorn from his nap. The poor ranger had been a bit disoriented to find Merry propped up in his usual spot on the window sill eating a hearty breakfast, while he himself was strewn out over the bed. Banging his shins while struggling to right himself on the too-small bed, Aragorn crossed the room to where Merry was peering anxiously out the window, his breakfast forgotten.

"Strider—I can't see anything. What's going on?" He looked around when no reply was given. "Strider?"

Aragorn, meanwhile, had caught up to his returning family and began to follow them down the hall as they whisked the hobbit into the guest quarters closest to Lord Elrond's study. He was relieved to see that, though he remained unconscious, Frodo's features were no longer the bluish-gray color Strider had observed since the hobbit's accident. However, the bruising had extended up to the hobbit's neck and now peaked out in a rainbow of black, purple, blue, and green from the massive bandages wound tightly around his small chest. Judging from Sam's brightened expression of relief and the fact that the bandages remained for the most part unstained, Frodo's situation was indeed improving. Bilbo trailed behind. Someone must have at last informed him of the events that had transpired. The ranger felt a stab of guilt at failing to do so himself. Arwen slowed to fill him in on the events that had transpired as the twins and her father settled Frodo in bed.

Aragorn hung back outside of Frodo's crowded room until only Bilbo remained, dozing after a second lunch that had remained mostly uneaten, and Sam had gone to check on Merry. He lowered himself to Frodo's bed, a medicinal tea ready in one hand. He had already debated over his course of action. To wake Frodo would cause the hobbit pain, but he needed to ascertain the hobbit's condition for himself. Gently, he shook Frodo's leg to wake him. It took some gentle effort, but finally the hobbit began to stir. Sam would likely draw Sting on the ranger if he knew what he was doing.

Frodo groaned and looked up at him, "Aragorn."

"Yes Frodo, you're in Rivendell. How is your pain?"

"Believe it or not, I feel better than I did after Lord Elrond removed the shard from my shoulder…but still terrible." His pain increased quickly, especially as he noticed his injury clearly for the first time and panic set in. As the pain increased, so did his difficulty breathing.

Aragorn held the tea up to the hobbit's lips, "Drink this, it will help you sleep so your body can recover."

Frodo feebly pushed it away, "Give me a minute. I want to know…about…Merry."

The man smiled, glad to deliver some good news, "I believe he is on the mend."

Frodo relaxed then and allowed Aragorn to bring the cup back to his lips. He was asleep again in seconds. The ranger was impressed at the hobbit's lucidity, though the flushed cheeks concerned him.

Aragorn was lost in his dark thoughts when his brothers found him staring pensively at a mural of the great kings of old marching to battle. Images sprang to his mind, unbidden. The ambush. The spears that had flown from above at surprising speed. The memories wouldn't stop coming. Aragorn had dragged his companion away from the battle and had tried to staunch the flow of blood. It had spewed everywhere with every beat of the elf's heart. His friend had gasped for breath, screaming with agony. The agony had continued without abating until his friend had breathed his last. He had continued to fight until they'd almost reached safety. The orc pursuit and constant movement had hastened his painful death. It was the first time he'd ever witnessed someone die, and he'd dreamed about it for months afterward. It haunted him.

"You forget, brother—we were there, too" Elladan surprised him, speaking quietly from the shadows.

Lord Elrond was waiting for his son as he neared the guest rooms.

"The hobbit regains his strength."

"Aye, Ada. I am much impressed by Arwen's skill. I expected the worst when you arrived, to have to call him back from death, or be forced to bury him, but it seems the last day has brought healing to Frodo."

The elf lord nodded grimly, "Frodo has at last gained a small advantage, but the next days are crucial. Arwen repaired what she could so he could survive the journey, but now we must look to the even more delicate work—splinters that must be removed, bones that must be set, and skin that must be regrown. I fear his heart is too taxed to endure much further strain."

Aragorn struggled to remain objective, "The options are more plentiful than when we were alone in the woods, but to wait risks a grave infection and to proceed now risks his life."

"Of this I am aware. Rest tonight. Tomorrow will be quite arduous for you. You look exhausted, my son."

Their soft conference was interrupted by a soft thud around the corner, followed by Sam's soft voice, "Mr. Merry, what are you doing out of bed?"

Estel and his father turned the corner to find a very pale hobbit leaning against the wall and struggling to catch his breath. Spent, Merry gasped between breaths, "I wished to see my cousin."

Aragorn smiled. The stubborn hobbit really was on the mend, "Frodo is resting. I've only just given him something to help him sleep without pain." He was going to let his father order the hobbit back to bed, but then thought better of it. His optimism had wavered. If tomorrow went badly, Merry would be haunted by what happened the same way he was haunted by his friend's death. Merry needed to see his cousin before he worsened.

To be continued…more angst to come…(and we'll catch up with the rest of the fellowship)

xXSparky CadeXx-Wow! Such high praise...I feel a bit undeserving!