Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Phantasm  by lovethosehobbits

Disclaimer: All characters and places depicted are the sole property of the JRR Tolkien Estate; my only claim to fame is this small piece of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

Medical Disclaimer: While extensive research has been done, none of the cures or procedures depicted in this story should be used without first consulting a medical professional. Also there may be graphic medical details and wee hobbit behinds in this chapter, so if that makes you squeamish, you'd better pass.

Once again, I must apologize for the lateness of this entry. I can only promise one thing to you, loyal reader, and that is that this story will be completed. I do not believe in unfinished tales, no matter how long it may take me to write them. I, however, cannot promise you that delays won't happen. It takes time to write the chapter and I seem to have a very busy schedule these last few months. All I can do, it would seem, is to offer my apologies and assurances and do the best that I possibly can. Thanks for sticking with me and now let's get to the story....

Chapter 11

Fever Pitch

"Gandalf," Frodo sobbed weakly, and found his body, heedless of injury, engulfed within the welcome embrace of his oldest friend.

"My dear, dear boy," the wizard whispered into his ear as Frodo continued to sob uncontrollably.

"Gandalf. Oh, Gandalf, please forgive me, I beg you," Frodo gasped.

Gandalf tenderly laid the hobbit down onto his blankets and studied the flushed face. "There is nothing to forgive, Frodo. You have journeyed far from us but now are returned, thank Eru. Can you tell us now what has very nearly taken you from us?" The Istari's voice shook with emotion.

Frodo nodded weakly. "I am frightened, Gandalf. The battle only just begins and I am in dire need," he whispered.

"We, all of us, will fight with you, Frodo. We have the power of good on our side and therefore, you do as well."

Hearing Frodo's voice, mail and weapons were discarded with a clang as all converged on the prone figure of their friend and kin. Everyone began to talk to Frodo at once, asking how he felt, was he in pain, was he hungry, cold or did he have need of anything. Frodo squeezed his eyes shut trying to weed through the cacophony. He began to breathe in sharp pants, needing to speak to them before the fogginess returned, something Frodo had learned was a precursor of a loss of consciousness, took him. His eyes lit on each face of his Fellowship friends.

"I have treated you all so badly," he croaked. "How can I ever gain your forgiveness?" he whispered fervently. A chorus of murmured responses filled the cavern, encompassing and overwhelming his senses. He closed his eyes again; his breathes becoming more and more labored. His vision began to dim, the voices seeming to come from far away. He fought the impending faint. 'I must be allowed to finish. I must warn them,' he screamed inside.

"No, no..." he cried weakly, but they were all so involved in reassuring him that they did not hear him. "No, you must hear me, please," he begged. Aragorn pulled him closer, raising his hand to silence the well-meaning throng; his concern mounting at Frodo’s struggle to draw air. One by one they silenced and peered uncertainly at the hobbit.

"No...The dream..."

"Was just a dream, Frodo," Aragorn crooned as he tried to calm the increasingly agitated hobbit.

"No...A vision. You...are...in ...danger. Must leave. Must leave. Don't want to hurt anyone," Frodo gasped. He pushed anxiously against Aragorn trying to speak, trying to warn them. He clutched, convulsively, at the Ranger's sleeve.

"Naught to worry about, Master. Nothin' will hurt you while Samwise Gamgee is at your side," soothed his loyal friend, completely misunderstanding Frodo's words.

"No...Sam, please. Must...warn," rasped the ringbearer. His eyes closed and the desperate grip on Aragorn's arm relaxed. His body went limp and the ranger quickly felt for a pulse. He found it beating far too rapidly, frequently missing a beat. He put his ear to Frodo's chest, hearing only the gurgling in Frodo's lungs as they made one last, desperate attempt to draw breath.

His eyes flew open in alarm as he checked for the rise and fall of the narrow chest, and finding it absolutely still, began to bark hurried orders. "Sam, my bag," he yelled. Instantly cries of dismay and questions began to fly. "Please, move away. I need room to work," Aragorn said, his voice frantic.

The remaining members of the Fellowship stepped back. Boromir crouched down and pulled a frightened Merry and Pippin into a comforting embrace. Their gaze never left the lax form of their cousin as silent tears slowly ran down their worried faces. Sam quickly reappeared at Aragorn's side, bag in his hands.

"What's wrong with 'em, Strider," he cried. "Why ain't he movin'?"

"He has stopped breathing, Sam. His lungs have filled with liquid." He looked up at the gardener's terrified face. "Frodo is literally drowning in his own fluids. We have to try and alleviate the situation or he will die," the ranger whispered fervently. "We have little time. Quickly, in my bag there is a silk wrapping. Within are several very slender glass tubes, made for me by the elves. Choose the larger of the three." He handed his smaller blade he carried on his belt to Gandalf. "Hold this in the fire, then return it to me with all due haste," he said.

Gandalf left and, after only a few moments, returned, the blade glowing orange. Sam held out the tube, gaping in wonder at the finely tooled instrument and wondering at how such a thing could have been created. Aragorn brutally cut the bindings that surrounded Frodo's chest, flinging the mustard plaster aside. He hurriedly flooded the unmoving chest with the cool athelas water. As soon as he had that done he laid his flexed hand on the rib cage, his little finger resting on the collarbone and his thumb positioned mid-range. He walked his fingers down, counting the ribs as he went. He stopped at the last two ribs, bent over and pushed the narrow blade deep into the recess between them.

Sam cried out in surprise and lurched forward to protect his master but sturdy arms laced around him and he was pulled back with a sob. Aside from a slight jerk, there was no sign that Frodo had felt the blade as it sank into his chest, which only compounded Aragorn's worry. All watched in total silence as Aragorn worked feverishly, to insert the fragile glass tube into the hole he had made. Legolas moved silently to Frodo and placed the ringbearer's head in his lap. He rested his fingers on Frodo's neck, feeling for the life beat. Worry etched his normally stoic features as he murmured in a low voice to Aragorn, "He is fading. His heartbeat is very weak."

Aragorn gave him a curt nod to show that he had heard but did not cease his ministrations. When the tube, at last, slipped home a thick, bloody exudate squirted over Frodo's pale abdomen. As Aragorn moved to the other side of Frodo's pale torso the flow slowed to a steady dribble, running down the side of his body and pooling near his arm. The procedure was repeated on the left side with much the same results; a shot of viscous fluid that quickly quieted to a steady stream. A single weak cough was heard, so quiet that if Aragorn and Legolas had not been bent over the hobbit it would have gone unnoticed. Aragorn, hands covered in blood and ickor, moved to Frodo's head and bent it back, placing his mouth firmly over the dusky lips.

Legolas stopped him with a tap on the shoulder. "Estel, I am not bound by the illnesses that plague mankind as you are, please allow me to breathe for Frodo," he said, eyeing his friend in concern. With a considering look, followed by a nod, Aragorn moved out of the way and watched as Legolas again tilted Frodo's head back and delivered a slow, shallow breath into the oxygen deprived hobbit. As the air filled Frodo's lungs it displaced more of the fluid and the liquid flowed faster with each of the elf's exhalations. Aragorn placed two fingers on the narrow neck, feeling for a pulse, as he watched the hobbit's chest rise and fall with Legolas's exertions. A small cough, followed by an almost imperceptible whisper of a moan preceded a ragged first breath, as Frodo began to come back to them.

The group gave a collective sigh as a second deeper and stronger breath followed the first. Aragorn closed his eyes in relief and noticed, for the first time, that his hands were shaking. He washed the pus and blood from them and then carefully washed Frodo's chest, taking care not to disturb the tubes. He began to wind gauze tightly around the hobbit's ribcage, securing the delicate instruments in place.

"Are you going to leave those in?" Pippin asked, timidly.

Aragorn looked up at the smallest member of their troupe with a wan smile. Pippin studied his friend in concern, seeing signs of deep fatigue on the ranger’s face, and impulsively reached out, placing his small hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Are you all right, Strider?" he asked worriedly.

Aragorn's smile widened as he perceived the genuine worry that shown from the bright green eyes. "Aye, Pippin, I am all right...now. Yes, we will need to leave these small tubes in place until the fluid is drained off. Frodo's lungs were so full of the infection that there was no room for air. He should feel much improved once the liquid is drained away," he smiled reassuringly at the Took. He turned back to Frodo. "His fever is raging. Even when he stopped breathing, and I had thought we had lost him, it was like standing next to an open flame," he mused.

"Mayhap a cool bath?" Sam asked timidly.

"Normally, I would agree with you Sam, however I believe we will need to take more drastic measures. While fever is not always a bad thing, being merely the body's way of fighting what ails it, too high of one can be deadly." His eyes drifted towards the cave opening. "Boromir, would you mind if we used your shield as an ice bath for Frodo?" he asked, looking up at the Gondorian.

Boromir smiled. "Of course, why did I not think of that? We could place Frodo within it and surround his body with the snow to bring down his fever," he smiled again as he looked at Aragorn and, with a nod, he, Gimli and Gandalf made for the mouth of the cave with the shield in tow. When they returned, Frodo had been turned onto his side to allow the tubes to drain more easily. The snow was piled onto a blanket as Frodo was wrapped and placed inside the shield. Then the snow was packed around and over his body until all that shown was his pale face. The sight caused made the hairs on Sam's neck prickle. His master was almost as white as his surroundings and, if Sam hadn't known better, he would have thought he had already expired. Frodo's brow smoothed as the cold began to wash away the heat that burned within him.

Sam hurried to the fire and put a pot of water on to boil for the tea. Then he stirred more water into the leftover stew, adding more garlic, onions and carrots. He frowned when he saw that there was no more meat. As if reading his thoughts, Legolas donned his cloak and grabbed his bow. He smiled at Sam as he hurried out into the blizzard. Sam stared after him, a quizzical expression on his face. He didn't know if he liked the idea of traveling with someone who could read minds. It made him feel like he was stripped bare and standing in the center of Hobbiton, he thought to himself.

After some time, Frodo began to shiver and Aragorn removed him from the shield, wrapped him in dry blankets and placed him on a heavily padded pallet by the fire. Merry and Pippin had scrounged all of the remaining blankets and soft clothing to make a small nest in which Frodo could lay. The wet blankets were quickly hung near the fire to dry. Aragorn could see that the glass tubes continued to drain, and the ranger was heartened to hear good, strong breath sounds for the first time in many days from the ringbearer. A gentle tap at his shoulder brought him from his reverie. Gandalf stood gazing down at him. He held, in his hand, a large, steaming mug of freshly made tea.

"Echinachea and rue," the wizard said with a twinkle in his eye.

Aragorn's eyes widened as he took the mug. "You've been holding out on me, my friend. I was not aware that you had any healing skills." He sipped slowly at the liquid, grimacing at the bitter taste, and making a mental note to sweeten Frodo's portion more heavily when it came time to dose him. Sam joined them and casually dropped two pieces of candied ginger into the cup. Aragorn smiled broadly up at the grinning gardener by way of thanks.

"'Tis the least I can do what with all you've done for me master," he said shyly.

Gandalf smiled and chuckled at the sour look on Aragorn's face. "Not so easy to take your own medicine, Estel?"

"It's horrible. However does Frodo take it?"

"He 'takes it' because you *wish* it of him," Gandalf said. "He trusts your judgment and, although he fights you at every turn, he will almost always give into what you wish because he knows that you do it for his own good." He chuckled happily, tousling Sam's curls, much to the annoyance of the gardener, before leaving the two of them to stare after him, and joined the others who were crowded around their ill friend. Aragorn checked Frodo's pulse and breathing again, finding both strong and regular as Sam hovered near by. The ranger placed a hand on the pale forehead. The fever was little reduced by the snow bath but he thought that the hobbit had endured enough for one day and decided to take a wait and see attitude.

Frodo's eyes fluttered weakly open. He moaned in pain and licked at his cracked lips. Sam was at the ready with a cup of the cooled medicinal tea, which Frodo drank thirstily despite the bitter aftertaste.

"How do you feel, my friend?" Aragorn asked, his face softening in concern.

"Hurt …" was Frodo's only reply.

"I am sorry, little one, but we had to take rather drastic measures or you would have been lost to us," the ranger explained quietly. He smoothed an errant curl away from the fevered forehead. "Aside from the pain from the surgery, how does your chest feel? Can you take a deep breath for me?"

Frodo slowly inhaled and found that he *could* almost fully inflate his lungs, which had not previously been possible. "Yes. Yes it is much better, thank you," Frodo rasped. "Aragorn, I must warn you and the others about..." Frodo began. A paralyzing pain suddenly ripped through his frame and he cried out in anguished surprise, his eyes widening.

"What is it Frodo? Where does it hurt?" Aragorn asked in alarm. Up until that moment, Frodo had complained little about his other injuries, so the ranger was startled at the sudden severity of the hobbit's pain.

"Aragorn," Frodo panted, "you and the others are in grave danger..." the hobbit screamed in agony as his body received yet another intense spasm.

Aragorn began feeling up and down the broken arm and inspecting the formerly displaced hip, which had healed remarkably well, but all looked in order and his brow furled in confusion.

Frodo's eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he tried, desperately, to speak. "Sam, Pippin, Merry, all of you will be..." he screamed long and hard, arching his back up off of the padding and feebly flailing his arms and legs. Sam sat hands extended outwards, a look of frustrated impotence on his face, confounded as to how to best alleviate his master's pain. The rest of the Fellowship had gathered, in a tight group, around the ringbearer. The pain finally became too much for the hobbit to bear and he sank back, losing consciousness.

Aragorn looked up at Gandalf in concern. "What could have caused such torment?" he asked.

Gandalf leaned on his staff as he gazed worriedly down at their comrade. "I am uncertain, but I mean to find out," he murmured thoughtfully.

tbc

Thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself last chapter and said something about no one reading the story...well, thanks to all of you for calling me on that. I needed a good kick in the....well, you know, and I appreciate all of the response that I got by my whining.





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List