Title: Set backs and Bonds Forged
Chapter: 1/10
Author: Coriandra
Beta reader: Phoenixqueen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the story plot and am receiving no payment for the story, other than the feedback of its readers. The symptoms and treatments described are strictly for entertainment purposes and should not be considered medical information or advice.

A/N: The first chapter is rather short, but they vary in length. I would like to offer a huge thank you to my beta reader for her proofreading, editing and general input. The story wouldn’t have been nearly as good without it.
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“SAM!” Frodo’s cry echoed off the mountainside and continued to hang in the cold, dry air as Sam lay on the frozen ground coughing uncontrollably. Frodo was at his side in a heartbeat, holding him close and trying to shelter him from the icy wind. If there was any question in Sam’s mind about the appropriateness of this, it vanished faster than the mist each time he exhaled. His throat burned, his sides felt like they were being torn apart and the rest of his body felt completely drained of energy.

The Fellowship, with the exception of Aragorn who was absent, turned instantly and began to gather around the two hobbits, almost as alarmed as Frodo. They had, ironically been debating what effect Caradhas was going to have on the Hobbits when they got to the top, but now they had a more immediate concern. Boromir was the first to reach Sam and Frodo. Gandalf joined him by their side a minute later.

“What happened here?” Boromir asked, sounding more abrupt than he meant to.

“Sam and I were making lunch,” Frodo explained, his expressive blue eyes dancing frantically, “then he started shaking, and naturally I thought he was cold so I turned to get him a warm cape from one of our packs. Then he started to cough so hard that he collapsed.”

Sam tried to speak, but again coughed violently when he took a breath. His energy level had been getting lower ever since they had started up Caradhas and it was becoming increasingly hard for him to eat and sleep. He had said nothing about it up until then, not wanting to slow down the rest of the Fellowship and thinking he could get over it using his own strength, being accustomed to hard work. Now, however, he was genuinely sick and could no longer deny it.

“Breath through this,” Gandalf advised, tucking a scarf lightly around Sam’s mouth and nose. “The warmer air should make your breathing a bit easier.”

“Where is…” Boromir snapped his head up to look at the Fellowship.

“Aragorn was scouting up ahead,” Gimli replied knowing, of course that was Boromir’s question. “Legolas has already gone to get him.”

“Good.” Boromir exhaled with relief.

Speaking calmly to Sam, Gandalf continued, “ How have you been feeling up until now?”

Sam paused for a minute, gathering up his strength to answer. “Very tired, can’t sleep at night…” Sam pause for minute, saving what little strength he had. “And my throat…” he gasped finally, raising his hand to his neck.

“Hurts?” Boromir asked quietly. Sam nodded with a great deal of effort.

“I have a headache too,” he managed to gasp before as he body was racked by another violent coughing spasm. Boromir and Frodo both supported him until it passed and he fell back into Frodo’s arms, barely conscious. Boromir removed his glove and slipped his hand inside Sam’s shirt to more accurately check his temperature. Again looking relieved, he spoke briefly to Gandalf who then stood and gave some instructions to the rest of the Fellowship. Understandably, neither Frodo nor Sam took much noticed of what was being said. Sam’s hazel eyes were watering miserably and Frodo had closed his own, praying silently as he held his friend close, for that was what he considered Sam, his friend, not just his gardener. As the rest of the Fellowship gathered their packs and began to make their way back down the path, Boromir gently brushed Sam’s tears away with his ungloved hand and smiled encouragingly at both Hobbits.

“What’s wrong with Sam?” Frodo asked with a quiver in his voice. “Does he have a lung infection?”

“Possibly,” Gandalf replied. Seeing Frodo’s devastated expression he added quickly, “but more likely it was just the cold air and higher altitude that caused this. Do try not to worry.” Although Gandalf was never extensively knowledgeable about healing, he had learned enough over the centuries, largely from his friendship with Elrond to be fairly confident about Sam’s diagnosis.

“Sam, we’re going to take you back to the cave where we slept last night,” Boromir told him gently. “Not the best place to be when you’re sick, but at least it’s dry and sheltered. Then we’re going to boil water to make it steamy. That should be a bit easier on your lungs. Aragorn will decide what else to do for you when he gets there.”

Boiling water of course, would mean lighting a fire and going back to the cave would mean backtracking over five hundred feet. Sam started to protest that it was too great a risk and they would lose progress in the quest, but was thrown into yet another coughing spasm and last of his strength failed him. It was almost with relief that he slipped into unconsciousness.

Title: Set Backs and Bonds Forged
Chapter: 2/10
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The next thing Sam remembered was lying on his side covered with a blanket. A hand gently stroked his arm, a hobbit’s hand no doubt. It was too small to be anything else. It was hard to tell how long he had been asleep, but it must have been for some time, he reasoned because the air was already filled with steam. He could hear the sound of firewood crackling and water boiling. Less distinctly, he could hear Aragorn’s voice. The first voice he heard clearly was that of Merry Brandybuck. Knowing he had failed to make lunch as expected, Sam decided to keep his eyes closed for as long possible.

“Frodo, is he all right?” Merry wanted to know. Strangely, was no irritation in Merry’s voice, only concern. That was unusual. Pippin said nothing, which was even more unusual. Merry was not a patient hobbit when it came to meals, and Pippin was even less so. Sam shivered slightly and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a cough.

“Oh, good! He seems to be waking up now. How are you feeling, Sam?” asked Merry. Pippin, who was sitting next to Merry, still said nothing. He just looked at Sam with his expression one of both anxiety and sadness.

“I’m all right now….I guess,” Sam replied, at a loss as to what to think of this. Legolas, who had been tending the fire and Gimli, who was splitting kindling, both stopped what they were doing as soon as he spoke and looked over at him with concern. Aragorn, who been talking to Boromir and Gandalf near the cave’s entrance, removed his gloves and came over to the fire, giving Sam a smile as he warmed his hands. Not used to being to centre of attention in anything but a negative way, the shy Hobbit blushed and instinctively moved closer to Frodo who sitting next him. Frodo, noticing this also smiled at him and held out his hand.

“I…I’m sorry everyone,” Sam said, looking down at the cave floor. “I’m late making lunch and we got set back on the quest 'cause of this.”

“Oh Sam!” Frodo laughed gently and put his arm around Sam’s shoulder. “You were sick, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No Sam, it was mine,” the Ranger told him. “As a healer I should have been watching for this, knowing that hobbits don’t do well at higher altitudes.”

“Well, I forgive you,” Sam replied trying to sound cheerful and mask his anxiety, “and as I told Mr. Merry, I’m feeling all right now, so I think I’ll finish making lunch. Then we can be on our way again.” Immediately, Frodo’s arm went from a comforting hold to a restraining one and he and Merry gave a Sam a reproachful look.

“He does seem to be better,” Frodo told Aragorn, “and Gandalf seems to think the problem was caused by the change in the altitude and the cold, not a serious illness.” Sam nodded his head in agreement, which he regretted immediately. As soon he did, his head started to ache again.

“Well, let’s find out if Gandalf was correct, shall we?” Aragorn suggested, smiling again as he went over to the Hobbits. Sam’s eyes widened noticeably and he would have pulled away if he could.

“Mr. Frodo…?” he began, but immediately let his voice break off, afraid that continuing would trigger another painful coughing spasm and knowing that nothing he could say would make a difference anyway.

“Mr. Frodo is staying right here with you,” Aragorn promised gently. “It would hardly be possible to separate you two, as Lord Elrond so rightly pointed out.”

“Well said, Aragorn!” Gandalf exclaimed. “Now the rest of us should wait outside and give Master Samwise some privacy.” Legolas, Gimli and Boromir left with no other direction. Merry got up slowly, but Pippin stayed were he was, still unnaturally quiet.

“Come Pip,” Merry said, gently lifting Pippin to his feet. “Don’t worry, Sam is going to be just fine.”

“Really, Merry?” Pippin asked, his voice barely audible.

“Of course he is. Strider will look after him,” Merry assured his cousin but Pippin still hesitated. “And you know Frodo will take good care of him too. He would never leave Sam alone feeling like this,” Merry pointed out. That seemed to satisfy Pippin. His eyes lit up noticeably and his voice became cheerful again.

“Good bye Sam,” he called over his shoulder as he happily followed Merry outside. “Get well soon, all right? We need you!”

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Responses to Reviewers:

Barbara Kennedy and boromir: Thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

Shirebound: Yes, I thought it might be fun to write something other then my usual sick Frodo stories.

Yellowrose and lovethosehobbits: There’s be plenty more Sam angst and H/C coming.

And last but certainly not least Phoenixqueen: God bless you, sister. I couldn’t have done it without you!

“Oh Sam!” Frodo soothed acutely sensing his anxiety, “Just relax; Strider is a good healer. Don’t you remember how well he took care of me at…” Sam cringed and inhaled sharply. “…Weathertop?” Frodo gulped realizing his mistake but knowing it was too late to correct it.

Aragorn, who had just looked in Sam’s ears and throat and was listening to his heart and breathing, stopped what he was doing and looked up. “That was very traumatic for you wasn’t it, Sam?” he asked quietly.

Sam blushed and began squirm. “Traumatic, sir? Well not really,” he said, referring to the examination. “I don’t much like it of course, but I understand it’s something that needs to be done.”

“You know what I mean, Sam, I was talking about Weathertop,” Aragorn said, more firmly. “I wasn’t particularly supportive of you during that time and I’ve been wondering since then if you got the emotional support you needed anywhere else.”

“That wasn’t a real issue was it, sir?” replied Sam, who had been trying not to think about that terrible incident. “And anyway, you had to take of Mr. Frodo, that was the important thing.”

“You’re important too, Sam,” Frodo told him. “I couldn’t have survived without you.” Sam looked up him confused. “It was Strider that saved me from those Nazguls, and treated my wound with Athelas, but you gave me strength to hold on until we got to Rivendell. All those small things you did for me and that song that you sang about the Troll helped me think about something besides the pain I was feeling. There was no way I could have endured it otherwise.”

“Exactly, Sam,” Aragorn confirmed. “I noticed it was you, more than anyone that kept his spirits up. It may not have seem like much to you, but it was as important as anything I could have done.” Sam considered this with amazement. From time to time he had doubts about his place in the Fellowship and even whether he should be there, but now it was clear to him. He had done the right in coming even if it initially been for the wrong reason.

“Now I have some good news,” the Ranger announced. “Gandalf was right, Sam. You have Acute Mountain Sickness, AMS for short. It’s not serious, in fact it should be gone by tomorrow. You just need to rest and give your body time to adjust to this new environment. I’ll treat your symptoms in the meantime to make you more comfortable.”

The rest of Fellowship meanwhile, was waiting anxiously for Aragorn to come out. When he finally did and was smiling, everyone except Pippin relaxed a bit.

“Did you find out what was wrong with him, Strider?” Pippin demanded, wide-eyed as he jumped to his feet. Aragorn nodded, smiling reassuring at the anxious young Hobbit.

“Nothing to worry, Pippin,” Aragorn assured him. “He just has a mild case of Acute Mountain Sickness brought on by the altitude and the cold, just as Gandalf said.”

“So, is he going to all right?” Pippin asked, still not ready to get his hopes up.

“He’s going to be just fine after resting for a day,” Aragorn promised. “He won’t even be too uncomfortable. I already have some medicine prepared for his symptoms.”

“Good!” Pippin replied, happy again. “Oh, did I ever tell you about the time I fell into a lake and got a really bad cold? I don’t know of course, but I think the way I felt was the same way Sam feels now. And I recovered just fine too, as you can see.” Aragorn listened patiently as Pippin chattered non-stop about that incident.

***************

Back in the cave, Frodo tended to Sam following the Ranger’s instructions. He put more wood on the fire and refilled the pot that was getting low on water. When he was finished Sam, who had been sleeping lightly opened his eyes and coughed again.

“Oh you’re awake!” Frodo exclaimed, sounding cheerful but a bit nervous as he quickly returned to his friend’s side. “Good. I’m going to help you sit up a bit, if I may. Semi sitting is the best position to be in while you’re awake, according to Strider mind you. I don’t understand why exactly. Are you comfortable?” he asked when he had finished. Sam nodded. “Good,” Frodo said looking relieved. Because he never taken care of anyone who was sick before, he wanted to be sure he was doing everything right. “Now I have to give you some of this medicine Strider made.” He held up a small jar filled with thick, dark paste.

“Ah…all right, Mr. Frodo, but what’s in it?” Sam asked as he looked at it apprehensively, knowing medicine very seldom tasted pleasant.

“It has quite a number of things in it,” Frodo replied, “let me think for a minute. Oh yes. It has willow, rosemary and licorice for your sore throat and your headache, thyme, slippery elm and wild cherry bark and mullein for your coughing, valerian to help you relax…” Sam looked dismayed for second. Frodo smiled sympathetically. “Yes I know how you feel about that, I don’t like just sitting around either. But you need your rest to get better and I need you with me, just as Strider said. Now, what else is in this? Oh yes, echinacea.”

Sam looked confused. “I never heard of that,” he said. “What is it?”

“Those purple coneflowers back in the Shire,” Frodo explained. “The leaves and roots are apparently very useful for treating infections and for preventing them. Strider wants you to have that as precaution. And the herbs are all mixed in honey, so it shouldn’t taste too bad.” Sam didn’t look convinced, but when Frodo handed him the tablespoon of medicine he swallowed it bravely.

“So, how often do I have to take this?” he asked, after taking a few gulps of water to wash it down.

“Not for another four hours,” Frodo said reassuringly.

“And for how long?” he asked doubtfully.

“Sam, all these questions!” Frodo teased gently. “You used to be such a sensible young hobbit, now you’re getting to be like me!”

“Really? How wonderful!” Sam laughed.

“Your family might think otherwise,” Frodo reminded him with a smile tugging at corner of his lips. Sam didn’t care, that statement had made his day. It made Frodo’s day too, to see him feeling better. Everything was all right now, and it would get better soon. “As to your question, it will just be until you get over this, so you’ll probably only need one more dose or two.”

Things were going equally smoothly outside the cave where Gandalf and Aragorn had just assigned the others their work duties. Boromir was keeping watch, Merry and Pippin were making supper and Legolas and Gimli fetched water and unpacked the equipment. Aragorn and Gandalf would share the watch duty that night so that Aragorn could check on Sam frequently.

“So it was just a mild case of AMS?” Gandalf asked Aragorn as they helped gather up the cooking utensils that were no longer being used.

“Oh yes, I’ve seen cases that were very much worse,” Aragorn replied. The rest of the Fellowship had finally gotten over their shock and were about to enjoy the meal. It was quite different from the way Sam prepared it, but no one complained. Pippin and Merry seemed to have done a good job.

“And do you have enough left of everything, or should we try to gather more herbs after dinner?” Gandalf continued.

“We should be all right for now, but let me check just to make sure,” Aragorn replied. He emptied the healing kit and began to take an inventory of what he had. As he did, a small black box fell at his feet. He looked at it quizzically for a second, then opened it and found two clearly marked bottles inside.

I don’t remember bringing this, he thought. Elrond must have put it in, just in case. He shrugged and put it aside. When he had finished his inventory, he made a few mental notes on what was lacking, then gathered some food to take to Frodo and Sam.

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“Sam, are you all right?” Frodo asked, noticing that Sam seemed uncomfortable.

“I’m all right, Mr. Frodo,” he replied. “I just got a little itchy all of a sudden.”

“Itchy?” Frodo looked at him with surprise and bewilderment.

“I don’t why, it just came on suddenly. And I feel kind of stuffed up too.”

“Really?” Frodo laid his hand on Sam’s brow, becoming concerned. “I’m not a healer, but your temperature seems to be normal. Let me loosen your clothes, that might help bit. Then we’ll have Strider look at you again.”

Sam was about to object to the last statement when Aragorn entered, carrying two large bowls of vegetables and dry meat. “Is there a problem?” he asked, setting the bowls aside and picking up the lantern.

“Well….I…” Sam began. “It’s really nothing I’m sure, but I….” He looked nervously at Frodo, who smiled encouragingly but said nothing. Clearly he was going to have to explain this himself. Aragorn looked at him attentively, so he took as deep a breath as he could and tried again.

“I was feeling all right for a while, but then I starting to get kind of itchy and it got harder to breath. It’s like, I caught a cold all of sudden.”

“You probably did, Sam,” Aragorn told him. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but let me make sure.” Frodo took Sam’s hand reassuringly, feeling it tighten as Aragorn again checked Sam’s vital signs and listened to his chest.

“You do seem to have a bit of a cold,” he announced when he had finished. “So what I would suggest is a cup of echinacea tea to keep it from getting worse. It might quicken your recovery, too.” He scooped some boiling water in a cup and went to get some of the herb. “Let that steep for about ten minutes,” he instructed when he returned with it and placed it in the cup. “Drink it all just as soon as it gets cool enough and let me know when you finished it.”

The Hobbits ate their meal while they waited, then Sam dutifully drank the tea as fast as he could, not much liking the taste of it but expecting to feel better afterwards. Instead, to his surprised, the cave began to spin and he desperately wished he hadn’t eaten that large meal.

“Sam, are you all right?” Frodo asked, noticing immediately that something was wrong.

“Mr. Frodo….I…I..think I’m going to be sick,” he gasped.

“You think…? Oh dear!” Frodo got up quickly and grabbed the nearest pot he could find. “Here Sam, do what you have to.” He turned Sam on his side and rubbed his back soothingly as he wretched violently.

“All right now?” he asked as he gently wiped Sam’s mouth, sympathetic to his obvious embarrassment when it was over. Sam didn’t answer. “Sam?” Frodo asked, becoming more concerned. Still there was no response. Greatly alarmed now, Frodo quickly rolled him onto his back. “Sam?” he almost screamed.

Sam was turning bright red and his eyes were bulging. “I…can’t breathe!” he gasped.

“Aragorn!” Frodo shouted, trying not to panic. Aragorn and Gandalf entered the cave without a second’s hesitation, followed closely by Boromir and the rest of the Fellowship. Frodo was shaking badly, but somehow able to keep his composure as Sam lay in his arms, gasping for air. Gandalf gently pulled Frodo aside and tried to comfort him. Aragorn carefully laid Sam on his back while Legolas brightened the lantern and held it in the position that gave the most light to the area. Gimli noticed Pippin crying hysterically in a dark corner. Merry was trying to calm him, but Pippin would have none of that, so the Dwarf went over to see what he could do.

“I… feel… Sam gasped. “ a…a…rope tightening around my neck and my chest... pulled sharply every time I breath!”

“What happened here, Frodo?” Aragorn asked, trying to take Sam’s vital signs but encountering great resistance from the panic strickened Hobbit even as Boromir tried to restrain and calm him.

“I don’t know,” Frodo answered speaking calmly, but with great difficulty. “Sam was starting to feel better, he even slept for a short time. Then I gave him the medicine and the problems started about fifteen minutes after that.”

“Problems? You mean the cold symptoms?” Aragorn asked, still trying to figure out what had happened. It made no sense for this to happen to a healthy, strong young hobbit, even one with AMS. Of course, Sam’s condition may have been more serious than he was willing to admit, but Aragorn had seen no evidence of that.

“The itching too; in fact that was the first thing I noticed,” Frodo added. Aragorn looked at Sam, who confirmed this with a nod, even though his breathing was even more shallow and laboured than it had been. Itching! Of course, that explained it! The Ranger cursed himself in both Elvish and Dwarvish for not thinking of that. Frodo, understanding some Elvish, looked up in disbelief. Gimli and Legolas looked shocked for minute but then would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so critical.

“Aragorn, the Hobbits,” Gandalf admonished.

“They don’t understand,” Aragorn pointed out, not seeing Frodo’s reaction. “Excuse the language, Legolas and Gimli, but I feel very upset with myself at this time.” Sam was barely conscious anymore. His face was beginning to turn blue.

“Open his shirt!” Aragorn ordered, grabbing the black box. When Boromir complied, Aragorn took a deep breath and firmly rubbed some thick liquid from the smaller bottle into Sam’s chest. A cool, slightly bitter scent filled the air as Boromir and Aragorn moved back slightly avoid been overcome by the vapours.

Sam’s eyes became almost impossibly wide. He gasped painfully and began to cough even more violently than he had in the freezing wind. As Frodo buried his face in Gandalf’s robe, trying not to break down, Aragorn turned Sam on his side and placed another empty pot next to his mouth, looking strangely relieved. Within minutes, the pot was filled with mucus, along with the rest of Sam’s stomach contents.

There was collective sigh of relief as the coughing finally subsided. Sam began to breathe more easily and his colouring returned to normal. As Legolas removed both pots, seemingly unfazed, Aragorn carefully laid Sam on his back, speaking gently to him as he trembled, trying to comprehend what had just happened to him. Frodo, of course wanted to rush to his side, but Gandalf continued to hold to him, giving Frodo time to recover somewhat from his own shock. Boromir lifted Sam’s feet and slipped one of the packs under them. Aragorn wrapped Sam up warmly after he had assessed his condition and was satisfied that it was stable. Then he nodded for Frodo to come.

“Hello, Sam,” Frodo whispered, as if he thought speaking out loud might shatter Sam’s fragile recovery. Sam, while still too weak to move, managed to smile when Frodo came into his line of vision. Frodo lifted Sam’s head gently and laid it on his lap. “Thank you, Aragorn and Boromir for saving his life,” Frodo said, his voice about to break again, “thank you all for everything.”

“You’re very welcome, Frodo,” Aragorn replied, warmly touching Frodo’s shoulder. Sam weakly nodded his thanks too and began to relax. The rest of Fellowship began relax as well. Over in the corner, Merry collapsed with relief. Gimli managed to catch him just before he hit the ground. Everything seemed under control now.

“Well, that was really something, wasn’t Pip?” Merry said with a laugh. Pippin gave no response however. “Pippin?” Still no answer came. Puzzled, Merry moved closer and reach out to him. This time he did get a response. For the first time in his life, Pippin deliberately knocked Merry’s hand off his shoulder and turned away angrily.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, stomping from the cave without a backward glance as the rest of the Fellowship stared after him in shock.

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A/N: For those of you wondering what Aragorn used on Sam, it was the essential oils of two plants: lobelia (ironically enough), a bronchial dilator sometimes used as an alternative treatment for asthma and ephedra, a plant source of epinephrine, the present day treatment for this type of reaction. The larger bottle contains a tincture of the same liquid to be taken internally.

“Pip!” Merry dashed out after Pippin, hurt and confused. “Pippin, why are you acting this?”

Pippin spun around and glared at his cousin. “You lied to me Merry,” he declare hotly.

“Lied to you?” Merry gasped, feeling every emotional imaginable rising up inside him. “Pippin I can’t believe what I’m hearing! I never lied to you in my life!”

“Until earlier today when you said Sam was going to be all right!” Pippin replied bitterly. “I believed you, Merry. I’ve always trusted you and now this!”

“How was I to know?” Merry shot back, deeply hurt by Pippin’s behaviour, but at the feeling entitled to some anger of his own. “I never saw anything like this in my life and I don’t understand what happened even now. Strider said….” Merry stopped speaking suddenly and put his hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to blame Strider, but he realized too late that was the way it came out.

“Pip, Strider didn’t know either. I don’t think anybody could have known….” Merry stopped talking at that point and just looked confused. Known what, he wondered. “Pippin, do you want to alone now?” Merry asked quietly, thinking it might be best for both of them.

“Don’t go too far,” Pippin replied hesitantly, “because..well..it might not be safe for us out here alone.” Merry smiled with relief and sat on a log about four feet from where Pippin was standing.

*********************

Aragorn monitored Sam’s condition closely for the next five hours and gave him a half dropper full of tincture at regular intervals from the smaller black bottle. Sam felt itchy, had cold symptoms and become violently sick after taking his medicine. That obviously meant an allergic reaction. So the question was, what caused the reaction? Frodo was lying by his side, exhausted from the incident. As much as Aragorn hated to disturb Frodo, he had to get some answers soon, it might prevent Sam having another attack. Gandalf had gone out to keep watch after giving as Aragorn as much information as he could about hobbit health in general. Now Aragorn would have to get some information from Frodo, since he knew he knew Sam best. He would let Sam sleep for now to recover his strength.

“Frodo?” he whispered, rubbing his arm gently. “Don’t be frightened, but I have to talk to you.” Frodo sprang up, his blue eyes widened with alarm.

“Is Sam still all right?” he tried to keep his voice down, but it was clearly difficult.

“At this time yes,” Aragorn assured him. Frodo forced himself to stay calm by remembering that getting upset wouldn’t help Sam. “I hope I can prevent this from happening again. Has Sam ever had a reaction like this, to your knowledge?” Aragorn wanted to know.

“No never,” Frodo replied. He knew Sam was never the type to admit he was sick, but surely something like this couldn’t be concealed.

“Has it ever happened to his parents, or any of his brothers or sisters, that you know of?” Aragorn continued.

“I don’t think so,” Frodo told him, “His mother got pneumonia and I think she had some of the symptoms, but nothing sudden like this.”

“Is there anything you could tell me about Sam’s health? It could be important even if it seems irrelevant.”

“I never saw him get really sick,” Frodo said considering this, “But sometimes he works too hard and pulls a muscle, or he stays in the sun too long and gets a headache. Whenever I notice that, I insist that he come inside, and I make him some willow, rosemary and licorice tea.”

“Are you sure it was that exactly combination?” Aragorn asked, feeling he was getting somewhere now.

“Yes, Strider, that’s the standard treatment for pain in the Shire and as far as I know, it never hurts anyone, certainly not Sam.”

Aragorn considered this. Willow, rosemary and licorice could be safely ruled out, it seemed. “What about slippery elm or wild cherry bark or muellin?” he continued.

“They gave that to his mother when she had pneumonia. It seemed to help her, and it certainly didn’t do her any harm.”

That was good to know. There was a very good chance Sam would have inherited his mother’s allergy, if there was one. “Has Sam himself ever been given any of those treatments?” Aragorn continued.

“I don’t know,” Frodo replied. At that moment, Sam began to wake up.

“Hello, Sam. How are you feeling?” Frodo asked gently, as Aragorn propped Sam’s feet up again. Sam smiled, not sure how to answer that.

“Well, I feel a bit better now. I don’t much like sleeping on my side, even though I know I have to for now. And I can still breathe pretty easy, which is wonderful.”

“We were just discussing what might have caused your reaction,” Aragorn explained. “Have you have taken wild cherry, slippery elm bark or meullin?”

“Sometimes when I have a really nasty cold and I’m coughing. I take it to keep from disturb my family at night.”

“And has it ever affected you adversely?” Aragorn continued. Sam looked confused. “Has it ever made you sick or done anything to do you that it wasn't meant to?” Sam shook his head.

“And what about valerian? Have you ever had that?”

“Yes, valerian and skullcap tincture when I was really small. They gave it for a few days to help me sleep when something really bad happened, like a death in the family. And they used sometimes to calm me down when I was sick and I wouldn’t let the healer tend to me. You’ve probably noticed I don’t much like being tended by a healer.” Frodo smiled sympathetically. “Although I got a bit better about that over time,” Sam added quickly.

Aragorn clenched his teeth and groaned inside. All the other herbs had been ruled out as the cause of the reaction. That could only mean one thing. “What about echinacea?” he asked, needing to be completely certain.

“Those purple flowers, sir?” Sam asked. Aragorn nodded. “I take care of them in Mr. Frodo’s garden, but I didn’t know they were used to make medicine.”

Aragorn cursed himself again and let his head fall against the cave wall none too gently. The Hobbits would have rushed to his side, but Sam’s head was on Frodo’s lap and Sam himself didn’t have the strength to get up quickly. “This was my fault completely,” Aragorn told them cryptically. “I don’t know what to say, Frodo and Sam, except that I’m sorry.” Both Hobbits looked at him, feeling shocked and confused.

Merry, who knew Pippin better than anyone could tell that his cousin was softening a bit towards him. That was good, but he hadn’t apologized which still a cause for concern. Pippin had never behaved like this before, especially not towards Merry. On the other hand, they had never quite been faced with a situation like this before. Someone they cared about had almost died right in front of them unexpectedly. Weathertop had been similar, but even then they knew, right after Frodo’s stabbing that there was a good chance they could lose him. Sam, however, had come down with a seemingly mild illness and was expected to make a complete recovery very soon. There had been nothing had prepare them for what happened and Pippin apparently felt betrayed after being told Sam would be all right.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him that, Merry thought. But I was sure of it too. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Oh, but what is this? It makes absolutely no sense.

Merry looked up hopefully to see Pippin get up from the tree stump he was sitting on, obviously looking for some comfort. He had gotten his hopes up too soon, however. Pippin darted over the cave entrance without giving him a glance.

“Oh Boromir!” Pippin cried, throwing himself into the Man’s arms. Boromir, who had been watching for some time to make sure the Hobbits came to no harm, was caught off guard for a minute, but quickly returned Pippin’s embrace. “It was so awful!” Pippin sobbed, “I still can’t believe what happened!”

“Yes I know,” Boromir said gently. “I was quite shaken by that myself. I can just imagine what it must have been like for you.”

“Boromir, is Sam going be all right now?” Pippin asked, looking pleadingly into his eyes. Boromir, not used to being at a loss for words, agonized over this. He wanted with all his heart to say yes, Sam would be all right, but he knew there was still a chance he might not be. He was relieved to see Merry approach slowly. Maybe he would be spared the ordeal of having to speak, at least for a while. No such luck, however.

“Boromir, what happened to Sam?” Merry asked quietly, giving Boromir a trusting look that almost broke his heart. Boromir groaned inside; here was another question he had no answer for!

What had happened to Sam? Boromir had a general idea, but not being a healer he didn’t feel qualified to explain, especially after seeing the disastrous result of incorrect information the first time. No, Aragorn would have to take care of that when he came out. But when was that going to be?

Boromir knelt down in front of the two Hobbits and looked at them seriously, but compassionately. "Pippin and Merry, I am going to be honest with you. I don't know what happened, and I don't know if Sam will be all right." As the two Hobbits' faces fell, he continued hastily. "I don't want to you to lose hope, but I don't want to lie to you either. We need to wait for Aragorn to tell us, because he is the healer, I am not."

“But Boromir, you helped treat him. You must know something!” Merry protested.

“Listen to Boromir; he speaks wisely,” Legolas told the Hobbits firmly as he and Gimli returned from gathering whatever medicinal herbs they could find before the expected snow fall that evening.

“Indeed,” said Gimli with equal resolve. “We all have gifts that are unique to us, which is why the Fellowship was formed and is so important.” Boromir looked up at them gratefully for a minute. As he went back to giving the Hobbits what comfort he could, the Elf and the Dwarf looked at each with amazement. Finally there was something they agreed on!

**************************

Frodo and Sam were confused. How could what happened to Sam be Aragorn’s fault? And what exactly did happen, anyway? Both Hobbits had been expecting bad news and were preparing themselves for it, but Aragorn’s reaction was something they were definitely not prepared for.

Aragorn, quickly noticing this, took a breath and considered for a minute how he was going to explain. “I believe you had an allergic reaction, Sam,” he said at last. “Do you know what that means?” Both Hobbits nodded, their eyes widened with shock.

“My cousin had one of those about fifty years ago,” Sam explained. “Her brother, who lived by the sea had come home for a visit and he brought shellfish for the family as a special treat. Just after it was served and she started eating it…” Sam cringed and looked down.

“She had reaction just like Sam’s and she died,” Frodo finished. “No one in the Shire knew why until the next time Gandalf visited, then he explained everything. Of course, I was too young to remember anything about it, but Bilbo said it caused such a stir in the Shire that no one has had shellfish since. Not that they saw very much of it before that.”

“Mr. Strider, what’s this got to do with me?” Sam wanted to know, “I never ate shellfish before.”

“Allergic reactions can caused by any number of things, Sam,” Aragorn explained. “In your case, I’m sure it was the echinacea I had you take. Twice.” Aragorn cringed when he said this.

Frodo almost panicked when he realized the significance of this. “Sam isn’t going to die, is he?” he asked in horror.

“I don’t think so,” Aragorn replied cautiously. “Fortunately, extreme reactions like the one you described don’t happen very often. Sam’s reaction was only moderate and it isn’t showing signs of happening again, although we still need to watch carefully for that.”

“Sam, if this is true I don’t ever want you tending echinacea flowers again!” Frodo exclaimed.

“They never gave me any real problems before, Mr. Frodo,” Sam told him. “I just got some itching whenever I touched their leaves, and it always went away right after I washed my hands.” Aragorn cringed again when he heard this.

“Are you all right, Strider?” Frodo asked. He and Sam both looked at him with concern now they had recovered from their own shock and noticed how upset he was.

“Oh yes. I just feel awful about what I did,” Aragorn replied, keeping his voice low to avoid upsetting the Hobbits too.

“What you did?” Sam looked confused, and then understanding quickly he said, “It wasn’t your fault, sir. In fact it wasn’t anybody’s fault. Nobody could have known I was allergic to echinacea.”

“I should have asked if anything of thing in the medicine had ever affected you, Sam,” Aragorn replied. “Had I known that you itched whenever you touched echinacea leaves, then I would have known right away you were allergic to them and this would all have been avoided. And besides that, your symptoms came on too quickly to be caused by an ordinary cold. I should have realized that too.”

“We all make mistakes, sir,” Sam told him compassionately.

“Yes, Strider, don’t blame yourself,” Frodo said gently, giving Aragorn’s hand a squeeze. “The important thing is that he’s all right now.”

“Thanks to you,” Sam added. Aragorn smiled, having no words to say. They had forgiven him completely; now if he could just forgive himself.

Aragorn checked Sam’s condition again and, being satisfied that it was stable, he asked the Hobbits if they would be all right while he stepped out to talk to the others. “Of course we will, Strider,” Frodo assured Aragorn, bringing Sam a cup of ginger tea and covering him warmly with more blankets. “And if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

“After us of course,” Sam added sleepily after drinking the tea. Frodo rolled up another blanket and placed under Sam’s shoulder to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. Aragorn smiled and wrapped a blanket around Frodo too. Then he stepped out as the sun was setting, totally unprepared for the hostile reaction he would encounter.

“All right, Aragorn, what happened?” Pippin demanded, glaring up at him as the rest of the Fellowship gasped. “Nothing to worry about?” he continued icily when Aragorn didn’t answer right away. “Sam will be all right by tomorrow, will he?”

“Pippin! Calm down!” Boromir gasped, barely able to contain his shock. He never would have imagined this from the good-natured little Hobbit.

“How can I calm down?” Pippin demanded stamping his foot, “I may be young, but I am not ignorant,” he continued turning to Aragorn again. “Sam almost died, didn’t he? After you said his condition wasn’t serious and I believed you.” Merry looked disapprovingly at his cousin but said nothing.

If Pippin is angry now, just wait until he finds out what happened! Aragorn thought miserably, as he tried to think how on Middle Earth he was going to explain that. Well, someone had to do it and of course, that someone was him. Now, how should I go about it? he wondered.

“Are you going to answer me?” Pippin demanded, his voice rising at least three decibels. “You better, because if you don’t I’m going to….” What was he going to do? He stood speechless as he probed mentally for a suitable course of action.

“Pippin, you seem very upset,” Aragorn said gently, getting down on his knees beside the young Hobbit.

“Really, Strider? What gave you that idea?” Pippin asked sarcastically, although his hostility lessened slightly now that Aragorn was at his level.

“Master Peregrin, this behaviour is totally unacceptable!” warned Gandalf, as he came down from the hill where he had kept a look out. He and Pippin were surprised, however, when Aragorn held up his hand

“Let him talk, Gandalf,” Aragorn requested, his voice resigned. “I don’t blame you, or anyone else for being upset, Pippin,” he continued. “The fact of the matter is, this was my making and I feel very upset with myself for that.”

Things were silent for the next minute. The rest of the Fellowship looked confused until finally Gandalf spoke. “Yes, you mentioned that you should have watched for signs of AMS. I should have too, Aragorn. The fault was as much mine as yours, knowing as much about hobbits as I do.”

“AMS was only part of the problem,” Aragorn replied, “and a relatively small part at that. I gave Sam a healing herb that he was allergic to, not once but twice.”

There was a collective gasp from the Fellowship when they heard that. Legolas, Gimli and Boromir looked stunned and alarmed, Pippin and Merry just looked confused. Gandalf closed his eyes leaned on his staff for support. “Just like Ivy Goodchild,” he said, almost to himself.

“Who?” Pippin asked. He had heard that name before, but never quite understood the significance of it.

“Sam’s cousin,” Merry told him. “She was the one that ate shellfish and died. I remember hearing about that a few times.”

“So, was the shellfish poison?” Pippin asked, trying to make some sense of all this.

“It was to her, Pippin. She was allergic to it,” Aragorn explained but Pippin, and to a lesser extent, Merry still looked confused. “Having an allergy, or being allergic to something means that a person gets sick in some way from a substance that would be harmless to most people. Allergic reactions come in varying degrees of seriousness. Thankfully, Sam’s reaction was only moderate and I had the means to treat it. His cousin apparently wasn’t so fortunate.”

“I doubt anything could saved her,” Gandalf added. “From what Bilbo told me, her reaction was extremely serious.”

“Did you give Sam shellfish?” Merry wanted to know. It made no sense but then, he had seen a lot of things that made no sense.

“No, Merry, shellfish is only one possible cause of reactions,” Aragorn forced himself to keep his head up, although it was becoming increasingly difficult under the circumstances. “In Sam’s case it was echinacea.”

“Echinacea? Isn’t that a type of flower?” Merry asked. When Aragorn nodded, Merry quickly became as confused as Pippin had been.

“A gardener shouldn’t be allergic to a flower,” Pippin pointed out. His hostility was quickly being replaced by curiosity, but Aragorn had felt more comfortable with the former. At least that way he knew what to expect next. What was the reaction going to be when he finally told them everything? Or should he tell them everything? How much did they want to know exactly? Well, he should probably satisfy Pippin’s curiosity, if nothing else.

“Tending flowers in the garden is quite different from actually swallowing them, Pippin,” he explained, “but Sam did mentioned afterwards that the leaves made his hands itch.”

“So are the healers in the Shire going to have to stop using it?” Merry said. “Probably; it doesn’t seem to be a safe healing herb.”

“Not necessary, echinacea is usually a safe herb, Merry. It can be very effective as well, but a healer should consider the possibly of an allergy before giving any type of medicine and watch for a reaction afterwards. I failed to do this, and unfortunately, everyone has seen the result of that.”

“What was it supposed to do, Strider?” Pippin asked. He had noticed that Aragorn was upset and now felt rather badly about that, but his curiosity was too strong to resist asking more questions.

“It was supposed to prevent Sam from getting something worse than AMS and help him recover from it. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. I caused it by not taking a proper health history and I made it worse by not recognizing what was happening when I should have.” Aragorn bowed his head and took a deep breath, trying to contain his emotions.

“Oh Strider!” Pippin gently placed his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. His hostility was gone completely and he now felt only concern. “Don’t feel bad any more. You were trying to help Sam, not hurt him.”

“Exactly, no one is blaming you,” Merry confirmed, temporarily forgetting about his own problem.

Aragorn pulled both Hobbits to him and hugged them tightly, touched beyond words by their compassion and forgiveness. The rest of the Fellowship looked on, equally moved by what they saw. Boromir, however, noticed that Pippin’s coolness toward Merry was still unchanged.

Gimli looked inside the cave and was surprised to see Frodo and Sam apparently asleep. Stepping inside, he walked over to them as quietly as possible to make sure both Hobbits still breathed. Being satisfied on that account, he began to move some boulders over to the cave entrance to stack them at night, as was the routine. The boulders would provide some shelter from the wind and make their presence there a bit less conspicuous if the enemies’ spies were patrolling the area. Once he had moved all the boulders he could find, he stepped out again to find some small stones to fill in the cracks as much as possible.

Sam meanwhile, woke up and looked around restlessly. He was under strict instructions to rest as much as possible, but that was completely unnatural for him and it was becoming stressful. Finally, he felt he could take it no longer. He pressed his back against the wall for support and got up slowly to walk around the cave. The fact that he was overly optimistic quickly became apparent, however. He took a few tentative steps, but fell to his knees before he got much more than a few feet. Gimli appeared in the doorway at that very moment. Sam blushed scarlet and wondered how to defend himself as the Dwarf eyed him critically.

“Did Aragorn not tell you to rest?” Gimli asked at last. “How are you going to recover if you over exert yourself?”

The Hobbit stammered for a few seconds and pointed out that Gimli had apparently been moving heavy boulders. “At least I wasn’t doing that!” he countered. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Gimli, but you seemed to have been exerting yourself more than I was.”

“You were told to rest, I was not,” Gimli reminded him flatly. Sam knew this was true, of course. His argument failed to carry much weight, he realized. He slammed the wall with his fist, having nothing else to say and feeling only frustration and despair at that moment. Gimli’s expression softened. He had never been a particularly caring person. As a Dwarf, he was not brought up that way. In this case, however, he felt Sam’s pain acutely. Enforced rest would seem like torture to him, he realized. Enduring it would take all the inner strength he had.

“I understand your feelings, Master Samwise,” he said quietly, kneeling by the Hobbit’s side. “I absolutely despise feeling idle, but this is the only way for you to regain your strength and we need you and Frodo needs you. You make such a difference to him, what would he do if he lost you?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open at the mention of Frodo’s name, then he looked down silently for a minute. “You’re right, of course,” he said at last. “It’s just that, I never had to keep still for any length of time, unless I wanted to. My family wouldn’t approve, I’m sure. All my life I’ve been taught the value of hard work and endurance. It's just not natural for me.”

“I understand that,” Gimli told him, “but let me share something with you that might help. I believe that everything happens for a reason, even if that reason is beyond our comprehension. Perhaps this is a test for you, or a chance to learn of a different kind of hard work. If I were in your situation, I would consider it the ultimate test of courage and endurance.”

“Oh, I never that of it way,” Sam replied thoughtfully. “I think my family could accept that, when they understood that I couldn’t help Mr. Frodo if I didn’t get well myself.”

“I believe they would, Sam. But the important thing is, do you understand and have you accepted it?”

Sam considered this for a minute. It wasn’t his way to think solely of himself, or even by himself. He had always consulted his family when he was even slightly unsure of something, but things were different here. He was completely on his own for the first time and had to make independent decisions. He found it frightening, but liberating at the same time.

“Yes,” he said at last. “My responsibility to Mr. Frodo is to take care of myself, so I’ll rest for as long I’m told to, even though it’s going to be difficult. Would help me get back to back to my bedroll, Mr. Gimli?”

As Gimli helped Sam to his feet wondering how well he could hold up in a situation like that and hoping he would never have to find out, Frodo, who had been listening silently to this conversation rolled over and smiled to himself.

“Thank you, Merry and Pippin for your forgiveness,” Aragorn told them as the sky darkened. “Please understand I didn’t deceive you. I was sure Sam was going to recover quickly and he would have recovered if I hadn’t given him an allergic reaction.”

“We all understand that, Aragorn,” Gandalf reminded him, now becoming concerned himself. “We should get inside now. With the sun going down, the temperature is going to drop very quickly.

Aragorn nodded. “You should go ahead in,” he told them. “I would prefer some to have some time alone, if I may.” He walked off to the left side, being careful not to go too far from the entrance, just in case they needed him quickly. Gandalf followed him discreetly so Aragorn was surprised to look up suddenly and find the wizard standing next to him. Aragorn smiled briefly, and then looked down guiltily.

“I see you know why I am here,” the wizard told him a little sternly.

“What have I done, Gandalf?” Aragorn asked, unable to look up. “How could I let this happen? Elrond would never have done that.”

“What have you done, Aragorn?” Gandalf asked. “You treated your patient to best of your ability. You made him something to ease suffering and unfortunately he had a bad reaction to it, as could happen with any kind of medicine.”

“I was negligent, Gandalf!” Aragorn exclaimed. “It could all have been prevented had I taken a proper medical history, which is the first thing they teach healers in training. Such a simple thing, would Elrond have failed to do that? I think not!”

“Aragorn, Elrond has been a healer longer than you have been alive!” Gandalf exclaimed, “Do you doubt for a minute that he made his share of mistakes over the centuries? Make a mental note of this and consider it a good learning experience. That may sound insensitive, and if it does I apologize, but it does no good to keep condemning yourself. Try to think instead of many of your patients are going to benefit in the future for what happened here. ”

Aragorn considered this for a minute. “That makes sense when I think about it as a healer,” he admitted reluctantly, “but Sam is my friend and I could have killed him. And, for good measure, I managed to terrify every member of the Fellowship. Can you imagine what it must have been like for Frodo to see Sam like that?”

“Aragorn, who has more right to cast blame than anyone?” asked a clear, musical voice. Aragorn looked up, startled to see Legolas on a hill just above them.

“Who has more right?” Aragon repeated when he got over his surprise. “Sam, of course. He was the one I did it to. And Frodo as well; he and Sam are devoted to each other, more like two best friends than a master and servant.”

“And are Frodo and Sam still condemning you for your mistake?” Legolas continued.

“They never did,” the Ranger admitted. “In fact, they were very understanding and forgiving about the whole incident. So was the rest of the Fellowship, as a matter of fact.”

“Then who are you to hold this over your head?” Legolas asked, looking the Ranger straight in the eyes. Aragon gasped, but could find no words to say.

***************************

Boromir and Merry were gazing up at the sky as it darkened. Boromir’s hand was on Merry’s shoulder as they discussed the positions of the stars. Pippin was standing on the side listening, not wanting to get to close; despite the pleading glances Merry was giving him. Merry looked at Boromir who smiled sympathetically, but said nothing. Merry smiled at Pippin and tried to draw him into the conversation, but all he got was a cold stare. He even offered to take Pippin’s place on watch duty that night.

“Don’t bother,” Pippin replied, moving farther away. His voice was complete devoid of emotion. Finally, Merry’s composure snapped.

“Boromir, why is he acting like this?” Merry cried, just about to despair. “He never acted like before, never!”

Boromir thought for a minute. He had considered intervening on Merry’s behalf, but thought it best to let them work things out themselves. He suspected conflict resolution skills would be valuable asset during the quest and in the future if they made it back home. “I think you better ask Pippin yourself,” he told Merry.

“All right, Pippin, what’s going on here?” Merry asked, a little angrily as he marched over to where Pippin was standing. Pippin looked up at him, startled for a minute but then stubbornly tried to return to his distant mood.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told Merry, but he failed to keep note of anxiety out of his voice. Merry took that as a good sign.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he replied, now more assertive than angry. “You’ve been acting like a cold stone to me all day and you wrongly accused me of deceiving you earlier today and I think it’s very unfair.”

To Merry’s great satistifaction, Pippin gasped and just looked at him in shock. “Merry…ah…you never talked to me like this before,” he stammered.

“You never deserved it before,” Merry countered smugly, seeing Pippin’s composure beginning to crack.

At this point, Boromir found himself becoming a bit concerned about the way the discussion was going and decided to step in. “Pippin, I believe Merry has a point,” he said calmly. “Is it fair to be angry with him for something he had no control over?”

“I’m not angry,” Pippin said, looking down dejectedly, “just disappointed.”

“Is it because of what happened to Sam?” Boromir continued. “Or could it be something else?”

“I…I..don’t know,” Pippin stammered, looking like he felt trapped.

“Yes, I think you do,” Boromir pressed him gently. “Are you upset about what Merry told you?”

Pippin nodded, trying not to break down. Finally he took a deep breath and began to explain. “ Whenever I had a problem I went to Merry…”

“Tell him directly,” Boromir instructed Pippin, gently turning him in Merry’s direction.

“Whenever I had a problem or I was upset about something, I went to you, Merry,” he said, after gathering all courage he could find. “And you always know what to do. You could make me laugh or help me get the right perspective and things were all right after that. I didn’t think there was anything you didn’t know, or couldn’t do if you tried. Up until now that is.”

“I told you Sam was going to get well quickly, and it didn’t quite work out that way.” Merry spoke slowly, beginning to understand at last.

“No Merry, it didn’t. I never expected you to be so wrong.” Pippin looked down again, seeming depressed.

“No one expected this to happen, Pippin,” Boromir pointed out. “In fact, no one expected anything that has happened so far. When I left Minas Tirith, I never expected to end up here. I have no doubt the others feel the same way when they left their homes, and when Frodo inherited the Ring, being required to travel across Middle Earth to destroy it must have been the last thing he ever imagined. My point is, life can be extremely uncertain. You can’t blame Merry, or anyone for that.”

“You’re right,” Pippin whispered, shaking and almost in tears as he turned to his cousin. “I’m sorry, Merry. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I'm sorry too, Pippin,” Merry told him, feeling humbled. He had never before realized the depth of Pippin’s trust and respect for him. “I’m sorry I can’t make everything all right for you.”

Pippin tried to tell Merry that he understood and that he still loved him, but somehow he couldn’t get the words out. He just reached over and hugged him. For the next few minutes, the two cousins held each like nothing else mattered.

“It might surprise you to know,” Merry said authoritatively, as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “that this isn’t the first mistake I’ve made in my day.”

“Is that so, Master Brandybuck?” Boromir asked jokingly, relieved to see their eyes twinkling again.

“I was about ten,” Merry began, “It was an unusually warm evening and I was thirsty. So I went into the pantry and poured myself what I thought was a glass of apple cider. It tasted kind of strange to me, but I still liked it so I drank a whole glass. What I didn’t know was it was actually apple wine, with an alcohol level of over 10%.”

“I don’t think that was very good for you,” Boromir commented with a chuckle.

“Let me you, it wasn’t!” Merry laughed. “I couldn’t understand why I felt so strange. Anyway, Pippin’s family was over at our home for dinner that evening and they were all sitting at the table while my mother was making some final preparation in the kitchen. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t feeling right because I wasn’t supposed to have anything before dinner and I sneaked that drink.”

“So what happened next?” asked his squirming, but delighted cousin.

“I came staggering into the kitchen and my mother looked up and saw me learning against the wall and she asked me to take a large bowl of gravy over to the dining room table. That was quite a challenge. It took all my concentration to walk in a straight line. I would have made it though, but a bird landed on the dining room window sill and our cat suddenly jumped out in front of me to try and catch it.”

“Oh no!” Pippin squealed, barely able to contain his laughter.

“Oh no is right!” Merry laughed now almost beside himself. “The gravy went flying all the table, and everyone got splashed with it, even you. I was horribly embarrassed and what was worse, I had a headache for the rest of the night and I had to go to school the next day without one wink of sleep.” By the time he finished his story, they were all laughing uncontrollably.

“That’s one to tell the others,” Boromir said, when they had finally regained their composure. “Shall we go in now?”

“Good idea!” Pippin exclaimed, racing Merry to the cave entrance. “Everybody, you have to hear this!”

The Fellowship moved back into the cave and prepared for the evening meal as Aragorn examined Sam again. Sam rolled his eyes and laid his head on Frodo’s shoulder, but they both smiled at Aragorn to show that Sam’s apprehension was simply routine by now. His biggest concern was about the questions he expected Aragorn to ask him.

“How are feeling, Sam?” Aragorn wanted to know, seeming satisfied with his physical condition, but a bit reserved.

“I feel pretty good, thank you,” Sam replied, glancing nervously at Gimli as he anticipated the next question.

“I’m glad to hear that. Did you get any sleep?” the Ranger continued. To Sam’s relief, the Drawf shook his head slightly to let Sam know he wasn’t going to say anything about what happened earlier.

“I slept for about an hour but for the most part I just rested,” Sam told him. “I don’t want to over exert myself.” Gimli winked at him as he said those last words.

“Sam was a good hobbit overall,” Frodo reported, “with the exception of a little walk he tried to take while most of you were out.”

“You know about that?” Sam cried incredulously, trying to imagine how.

“Of course,” Frodo said, smiling brightly. “Remember, I told you before we left Crickhollow that I’d never again believe you were sleeping?”

“You were spying on me, you weasel!” Sam laughed, rolling up his blanket and throwing it at Frodo. The rest of the Fellowship gasped, never expecting this from Sam. Pippin and Merry squealed with horrified delight. Sam froze solid. What had he just done? He would never have considered doing that in the Shire. Frodo started for a minute in disbelief.

“Sam, you… you.. called me a weasel,” he stammered when he finally found his voice again. “And you threw the blanket at me, just like you used to do with your brothers!” He slowly moved over beside Sam, who cringed slightly, wondering what Frodo was going to do next. “That’s wonderful!” Frodo laughed, giving Sam a hug. “I was hoping you’d develop some boldness during the quest.”

“You liked it? Really, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked, trying to process this information that sounded so surprising.

“I love it, Sam!” Frodo assured him, still laughing. “And I don’t hear anyone else complaining, do you?” He gestured around the cave. The rest of the Fellowship was still looking on, visibly impressed by what they had seen. The light-heart atmosphere still remained when they returned to their previous activities.

Sam reflected on everything that had happened that day. He had become sick and slowed down the quest. The others should have been annoyed with him for that, he thought. Instead, however, they showed only concern for him and it was during that time he discovered what difference he had made to Frodo. Then he had experienced what could have been a fatal reaction to a healing herb. That would have a lasting effect on anyone. It gave him this opportunity, however, to step out of character for a minute and find he was still loved and accepted, maybe even more than he had been before. He showed a side of his personality he never would have outside his home, or very seldom even outside his room that he shared with his brothers. His family would have disapproved strongly, but as Gimli had pointed out he was on his own now. His responsibilities were now to the Fellowship and to himself. The culture’s expectations were not withstanding anymore.

“Dinner time!” Pippin announced, his cheerful voice cutting into Sam’s reflections. The Hobbits eagerly grabbed their bowls and rushed over to the fire where Pippin was cooking. One thing hadn’t changed, and that was the Hobbits’ love for their meals. This meal tasted strange, however. Everyone grabbed at the water pitcher immediately after taking their first bites.

“Pippin, what did you put in this stew?” Aragorn asked, trying to sound causal when he noticed Pippin hadn’t tasted it yet.

“The usual things,” Pippin replied, becoming concerned when he noticed everyone’s reaction. “Dry meat, vegetables and this bag of mixed herbs.” As he held the bag he looked at label for the first time. “Oh no!” he gasped, turning as red as the residual powder that clung to the sides. “Oh my goodness no! This is cayenne powder! I got so distracted for a minute that I grabbed the wrong bag!”

“I see,” said Aragorn. “That would account for the…unusual taste.”

“I’m really sorry, everyone,” Pippin said, deeply embarrassed, “but the bags are identical in size and well….I didn’t expect the cayenne power to be in with the food supplies. I thought you just used it for making medicine, Strider.”

“Don’t ever assume,” the Ranger admonished, searching through the packs for a suitable alternative meal.

“Is it really that bad?” Pippin asked, trying to be a little hopeful. “Could everyone maybe just eat a little bit?”

“Pippin, I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Frodo said gently, “but this stew is…” He finished his sentence in Elvish.

“What word did you use?” Aragorn cried in disbelief, spinning around to face the Hobbit.

“Well, at least I didn’t say….” Frodo repeated the words Aragorn had used when treating Sam’s allergic reaction.

“You speak Elvish, Master Frodo?” Legolas asked, seeming both impressed and amused by this revelation.

“Of course,” Frodo replied as if it should have been obvious from the beginning. “Bilbo speaks it well and I lived with him for a good part of my life, so naturally he taught it to me.”

Now it was Aragorn’s turn to be deeply embarrassed. “I let those kind words slip out when things go very wrong, and sometimes even when they go very right,” he said apologetically. “I would never use them ordinarily, especially around you Hobbits, but never it occurred to me that you understood, Frodo.”

“Don’t ever assume,” Pippin told him, with a twinkle in his eye as the rest of the Fellowship snickered good-naturedly.

***************

Aragorn’s sleep was heavier than usual for the next two nights due the emotional tension he had been under. He would have, of course have woken instantly if there had been some kind of disturbance, but all ordinary sounds had been shut out. He awoke while it was still dark one morning and found to his surprise that he was alone. Legolas had been on watch duty that night, which accounted for his absence, but as Aragorn didn’t see the rest of Fellowship. Even Sam had gotten up, it seemed.

He shouldn’t have done that, Aragorn thought reproachfully. He seems to have recovered enough to move on, but still, I’ll have to talk to everyone about that. Now, where is everyone? Aragorn listened for a minute to see if he could their voices. He heard nothing, however and when he looked around the cave, he saw that all the equipment remained.

So what could have happened, he wondered, slightly concerned now.

Legolas’s voice rang out at that minute. “ORCS!” he cried, his shout echoing over the mountain.

Orcs? There were Orcs on the mountain? And had the others been taken? Without thinking for another second, Aragorn grabbed his sword and dashed outside only to have a pail full of snow dumped his head by Merry and Pippin who had been hiding on the top of the hill. The two young Hobbits shrieked with laughter. Sam, Frodo and Gimli jumped out from behind a boulder and they were laughing too. Then Aragorn saw Boromir and Gandalf pressed against the side of the cave, obviously in on the joke as well. His attention was focus one person, however.

“Legolas,” he hissed, uncertain whether to be angry or amused. “I am going to strangle you for this!”

“No, no, no!” the Elf cried in mock terror as Aragorn moved towards him. “It was those Hobbits, they made me do it!”

“Did they now?” the Ranger asked, as he turned and looked up at Pippin and Merry.

“Oh no, Strider! It was Frodo and Sam!” Merry protested pointing in their direction.

“And what do you have to say for yourselves?” the Ranger asked, pretending to be accusatory as he turned to Frodo and Sam.

“It was Mr. Frodo’s idea!” Sam said quickly, trying not to laugh. “He said we had get even with you for giving me the wrong kind of healing herb.”

“Oh right! Blame me that’s a good thing!” Frodo laughed.

“He’s right, Frodo, it was your idea,” Merry pointed out.

“I didn’t hear any objections from the rest you,” Frodo reminded them.

“Would I do that, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked, pretending to be shocked. “Oh no, sir, that’s not place.”

“And what’s your excuse?” Frodo wanted to know, looking up at his cousins.

“We were brought up to respect our elders,” Pippin told him.

“Exactly,” Merry confirmed, sounding very serious. “We wouldn’t think of questioning or arguing with you, Frodo.”

“Oh go away!” Frodo laughed, throwing a snowball at them. Pippin and Merry, of course threw one back at him, then Sam got into the act. As Aragorn jumped back to avoid being caught in the crossfire, he began to laugh. The rest of the Fellowship laughed too as they watched the Hobbits square off, but Aragorn more than any of them. As he did, began to feel unburden and at peace with himself. All was indeed forgiven, he realized that without a doubt now and he forgave himself. Then he felt a snowball hit him.

Who could have done that, he wondered looking around. Legolas of course! It has to be him; he’s looking at me so innocently!

Aragorn threw the snowball back at Legolas when he wasn’t looking, and in less than a minute the whole Fellowship was drawn into the “fight.” Gandalf watched from a safe distance, amused by what he saw and pleased about the bonding that had taken place during this short time. But the sun was up and it was time to move on. “All right, everyone,” he called. No one heard him, however. They were all having too much fun. “People, we have to get breakfast and move on,” Gandalf called louder, but again no one seemed to notice, except Frodo and Pippin.

“Get Gandalf!” Pippin cried excitedly, throwing a snowball in Gandalf’s direction. The wizard easily stepped out the way and raised his staff. There was a flash of light, and the next second the snowball changed from white to blue. The rest of the Fellowship gasped when they noticed that the snowballs they were throwing had all changed to every colour in the spectrum.

“As I was saying,” Gandalf continued, now that he finally had everyone’s attention. “We to have go soon. We have a lot of ground to cover today.” Everyone nodded silently but no one moved.

“Gandalf, I haven’t seen you do anything like that since Bilbo’s last birthday party in the Shire,” Frodo gasped. “You used to change smoke rings different colours.”

“That was quite a party, wasn’t it Frodo?” Gandalf commented with a twinkle in his eye.

“Tell us all about it,” Aragorn invited, as the others gathered around eagerly.

“After we get moving again,” Frodo said firmly. The rest of the Fellowship scrambled to get everything done so they hear the story. Frodo winked at Gandalf. “I thought that would do the trick for you,” he whispered.