Chapter 3 -

"Master!  No!" Sam cried and pulled Frodo's dangling body to the chimney's rim.  Legolas was down in a twinkling, helping Sam settle Frodo on more secure ground beside the chase.  He brushed elegant fingers over the bloody cut on the hobbit's brow and Sam was almost overcome with relief to see his master wince and groan. 

"Oh, glory!" he whispered, his throat tightening in a sob.  Legolas' smile glowed down on both of them. 

"Hobbits are quite amazing, and durable, as I have seen.  I think your master is more dazed than seriously hurt.  Do you see, Sam?  He is rousing now.  Help me lift him and I will guide you both out of danger.  Come." 

Sam almost opened his mouth to ask if he could carry Frodo, so great was his worry, but good sense checked him.  Legolas could move lightly over the top of a deep drift of snow; the Wood Elf was a far safer transport for his master over the rubble than Sam would have been.  He nodded and wiped his tears away.

"Very well," he said instead, and helped Frodo to a sitting position.

"Well," gasped the hobbit groggily, "that was an adventure."  He touched his forehead and winced again.  Looking at his fingers, he noted the blood on them and sighed, then began looking about in seeming confusion.  "It appears I am rescued," he said after a moment and looked up at Sam with a pained smile.  "Thank you."

"If you will allow me to bear you, Frodo," Legolas offered.  "This is an awkward place to walk even for those with no hurt.  Come.  We shall see to Merry and make certain you haven't any other complaint."

At Frodo's halting nod, the Elf lifted him and strode confidently down to the little square where the blankets Sam had gathered had been partnered with several that Aragorn's party had brought.  Sam followed, picking his way down more slowly.

Aragorn had laid Merry on a soft layer of blankets and had covered all but his leg and shoulders with another.  More were rolled up and had been placed under Merry's feet, raising them several inches off the ground.  The patient was still pale, especially in the noonday sunlight, and his lips had an ashen hue that drew Sam up sharply again.  Frodo seemed to come to himself when he saw his cousin, and he looked over anxiously as Legolas placed him on a nearby pallet.  Sam settled between the Bucklander and his master, feeling anxiety for both. 

Aragorn was expertly examining Merry while another man pressed a large cloth firmly against the injured leg.  Several other men that Sam had not seen earlier were standing ready by the unconscious hobbit's head, one with a large satchel and another with an earthenware jug and several clay pans of varying size.  Another man was kneeling opposite Aragorn and seemed to be listening intently to what he said.

"This bump is likely painful, but it has not broken the skin.  The bleeding from his leg is what has laid him low.  If we can staunch it, we can move him to the Houses of Healing, but not before.  Once he wakes I can determine if he has any other ills." 

Frodo was settled under a blanket of his own and, growing more alert every moment, craned his neck the better to see his cousin. 

"Strider?" he asked softly, and the King, his eyes fierce and focused, looked up.  To Sam, it appeared as if the wild ranger from Bree had returned once more, but a moment later the intense look softened and Aragorn smiled down at the concern in their faces. 

"You did very well getting him out so quickly, Frodo, Sam.  The cut was deep and ragged and bled badly, but we have nearly stopped it.  With rest and drink, if we can rouse him to take it, he should be none the worse for wear.  He was truly very lucky.  Now," Aragorn stood and motioned the man with the earthenware jug to attend him.  "What say you allow me to tend your hurts?"

Frodo winced, as if pained by the reminder of his injuries, but nodded. 

Legolas, conversing with Gimli, came to stand behind them as Aragorn knelt at Frodo's side.  The hobbit looked up at them and winced again as Aragorn probed the cut on his forehead, but didn't draw back. 

"I've not had chance to ask," said the King, "but could you two tell me what really happened?  The message I received was cryptic, but quite alarming.  I had no idea what I would find, though I greatly feared it would be dead hobbits under a fall of rock.  What ever were you doing down here?"  Aragorn reached towards the attendant with the satchel and the man gave him a jar and a pad of clean cloth.  The other attendant poured steaming water into a small basin and placed it within his King’s reach. 

"Begging your pardon, Sirs, but it wasn't Belegond's doing that got us lost this time," Sam offered quickly.  "We wanted to come and see the work Mr. Gimli was doing on the city and he took us the way he thought was safest, but that he found there'd been a fall in the night and we couldn't go no further that way."  He looked about for the young soldier who'd led them and been helping to remove the rubble, but he was nowhere to be seen.  "He'd have gone back, but we could hear Mr. Gimli calling to his builders and knew we were near to him.  We'd just found a way that was clear, seemingly, when, well that's when that tower started to fall!  I'd never seen such a sight in my life!  Mr. Merry heard it first, and him and Mr. Frodo were right under where it was like to hit.  I saw him give Mr. Frodo a shove the other way, towards the houses, and then I couldn't see no more." 

Sam paused and took note of the look of ease which seemed to have enveloped Frodo as he'd talked, despite Aragorn's ministrations.  It was the same look his master would wear while listening to him recounting some tale of the doings around Hobbiton, or the latest adventures of the garden cats.  Mr. Frodo always said Sam’s plain talk made him laugh.  Suddenly Sam felt very proud and glad he had so simple a way to bring a bit of comfort and peace to his master. 

Frodo took up the tale from there, telling of how they had chosen the fireplace as sanctuary and how Merry had seemed to hesitate before getting into it - a hesitation that nearly cost him all.  Then he recounted the exploration of the firebox, the discovery of Merry's wound and subsequent lethargy, and the state of the chimney flue.

"And after we'd got Mr. Merry out, my master gives out a shout and there’s a great crash of stone and, well, I thought we'd lost you then, sir!"

"You nearly did, but not quite," smiled Frodo as Aragorn bound his cut.  "These old bones are still quick enough it seems, to respond at need.  I was standing just below the big stone when I heard a creak and knew my time was up.  As it gave way, I pushed myself hard to the other side of the flue, right into the boards you'd sent down!  I must have dropped the other blockage down on top of me, for in the next instant I was out in the sunlight and you and Legolas were helping me to sit."

"And from there I think I can take up the tale," said Legolas.  "For Gimli has just made the observation that news travels swift among the ranks of soldiers.  Master Peregrin will have heard of your adventures and will be anxious if he hears the version of them that Aragorn and I did.  It would be best if I found him first to give a more accurate account."  The Elf bowed gracefully and took his leave.

"You are very lucky, Frodo!" murmured Aragorn.  "How do you feel, otherwise?"

"Bruised," the hobbit replied with a wry grin.  "I feel as if the Five Armies had trampled me, but nothing's broken and though no doubt I will be stiff and sore tomorrow, my chief worry now is for Merry." 

The King nodded and spared a glace for the Bucklander.  Seeing the look, his attendant eased the pressure on the bandage and watched it closely.  After a moment he nodded and smiled.  Aragorn acknowledged him and motioned that he should continue the pressure, then turned and smiled at Frodo. 

"I am encouraged," he said.  "The bleeding is nearly stopped and we should be able to move him very soon, but how about you?  Will you let me see what the Five Armies have done? 

"But what about Merry?" the hobbit persisted.  "I couldn't wake him, Aragorn.  And he was growing so cold."  Frodo had started on the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, but now that the danger was past, his fingers were beginning to shake. 

"He lost a great deal of blood from that wound, Frodo," Aragorn explained as Sam helped Frodo with his garments.  "From your tale, there was little you could have done to prevent it, but your decisive action afterwards probably saved his life."  He nodded.  "He still may have some complaints from a sore head, but the bleeding was what laid him low so quickly.  It was my chief concern."  Aragorn quickly examined Frodo's back and shoulders.  They were greatly bruised, mottled red in places and starting to purple in others.  Frodo was also beginning to stiffen and could barely reach across his body to re-clothe himself.  Again Sam had to assist him. 

When Aragorn ordered bearers and a litter for Merry, he called for one for Frodo as well.

"I feel well enough to walk, Aragorn," said the hobbit.  "Please let me.  I'd rather not cause more talk among the people and, to tell the truth," he added with a grimace.  "I'd not enjoy lying on this back just now."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at his friend, but chuckling, had to concede.  "You have a valid point, Frodo.  Perhaps we can compromise and have you ride?  I'll lead you on my own horse."

Frodo winced again.  "I suppose, if you won't let me walk, that would be acceptable.  I can bear it if I must." 

"Master!" Sam chided.  "Take the ride if you'll not manage a litter, at least!  You were out cold when we lifted you up out of that chimney not a half hour past!  You'll need rest and tending now, not an uphill walk!  It’ll cause me no end of worry if you don't!"

Frodo laid a hand on Sam's arm and leaned towards him conspiratorially.  "Ease your worries, Sam.  I will let myself be borne if I must be, though I fear even that gentle ride will be a trial."  He shifted with discomfort and gave his faithful companion a wry grin.  "What Aragorn failed to note, no doubt in an effort to spare my dignity, was that my backside is in much the same condition as my back!"

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He couldn't seem to get himself awake.  There was movement, sudden sunlight and then an easy swaying motion that reminded him of a boat on the water.  He wondered if he had fallen asleep while fishing on the Brandywine.  It seemed he was being muffled under heavy cloths and he was so warm and comfortable that the minute he stopped struggling against it, sleep crept back to claim him.  But he couldn't allow himself to sleep!  He would float down the Brandywine and end up out of the Shire in some strange land far from home!  Panicking, he kicked his feet at the coverings and felt a sharp pain in one calf.  That halted him and brought forth a queer memory of stone flowing like water.  What had happened?

Other memories teased at him, offering glimpses of battles and perilous rides, pain and loss, and the fear of losing someone dear, and suddenly he understood that he was not in Buckland.  He was far from home in a strange land.  A great and perilous adventure was afoot and he was right in the thick of it. 

The sunlight was gone, but it was not dark.  He was inside some great house and the swaying movement had stopped.  Beneath his cheek was soft cloth and hands reached for him.  Gently, they began to remove his clothes, taking off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt.  He relaxed into the unexpected luxury, for the hands were soft, feminine and loving.  It wasn't until they began to remove his trousers that he started to feel uncomfortable.

"Easy there, love," he slurred.  "Not so eager.  Let me wake first…"

The sound of ladies' laughter mingling with the bellowing guffaw of at least one male voice brought him up short and this time he managed to raise an eyelid.  Though blurry, the scene around him was one he knew.  The white, vaulted ceiling, the large bright windows and the kerchiefed waiting women; he was in the Houses of Healing.  Again.  He closed the eyelid and groaned. 

"I doubt you are in condition to meet these ladies just yet, Master perian," said the male voice.  "Rest easy and we shall have you washed and dressed, your hurts mended and some drink in you in good time.  You have lost blood and must take as much broth and water as you can to replace it.  Please.  Let the ladies finish their task unhindered." 

Merry sighed and removed the hand that he had latched onto his breeches.  "Too good to be true anyway," he murmured as genial laughter accompanied him back into dreaming.

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Pippin had not returned by the time Merry was washed and his injured leg treated.  His duty had been to attend, in the King's stead, the pardoned troops and injured of Harad making ready to depart for their homelands.  Even Legolas could not have ridden over the Pelennor and back in that time.  The herb master, who had, by now, set in a good store of the herb 'kingsfoil', prepared for the King a bath of its infusion, and Aragorn himself washed the two hobbits' bruises with it.  Frodo breathed in the steam and felt the ache and growing stiffness lessen.  The contusions had deepened to purple across both their backs, but the King's hands soothed and many of the lesser marks faded to yellow under his touch.

"I count myself fortunate to have such a friend," said Frodo to the King, "I dare say I can barely feel any pain now."

"I would do the same for any man in my care," Aragorn answered kindly, "but it is my pleasure and honour to aid those who have done so much for Middle-earth.  And as for pain, I would suggest you hold your praise till the morrow, for I doubt you will escape all the stiffness this will have caused.  But now, you must rest.  There will be a room made ready for you here and I will have one set near at hand for Sam, so that he may continue to tend you."  The King's eyes twinkled.  "I think you've frightened him again, Frodo.  The poor lad looks like a mother hen with a sole chick to be tended.  You must consider keeping yourself in better care for his sake, if not for your own."

Frodo pulled his shirt back on and looked up at Aragorn from under the white dressing on his forehead.  His eyes were thoughtful and a bit sad.

"Sam has worried entirely too much over me," he said with a serious tone.  "I would not have intentionally given him more reason to do so." 

"I understand," nodded Aragorn.  "You are free to come and go as you please, but the city is not safe yet and I would not have advised this outing had I known of it.  Belegond was correct when he urged you to return to your house."

"A good man," Frodo agreed sighing.  "I hope he was not punished for leading us there.  It was the folly of our curiosity.  We have such works of stone near the Shire, but no knowledge of how they were built.  Allow me to accept the blame for this incident and I will endeavour to cause neither you nor my dear Sam any more strife."  He sat up straight, though gingerly still.  "I will see Merry now and assure him before I take my leave.  The healers of this house can better care for him with one less underfoot, as Pippin will most assuredly wish to stay with his cousin.

"I would then like to return to my house.  Gandalf will be there should I need anything, as will Sam, and I would not rest so well here where I would feel myself a burden."  He gazed evenly at the King and the denial Aragorn seemed ready to voice died on his lips.  The man shook his head.

"You are your own master, Frodo, and I can see no need for care now save rest.  You are right when you say that one lies easiest in one's own bed.  I will trust you to your own care and to Sam's.  Gandalf, after seeing that you were both out of danger, went back to your house, but I can send word for him to have a meal and bed made ready against your return.  It is in my mind that he expected you would not stay here anyway."

"He knows me too well," said Frodo.  He pulled on his brushed waistcoat and buttoned it to the top.  "Though I think I will walk this time.  It is not far and any stiffness I am due will be lessened for the exercise."

"Agreed." 

Frodo stood and took his leave, pausing at the doorway of the treatment room to look back at his friend.  "I would not have you worry over me either," he said.

"I do not worry, unduly, Frodo," replied the King, gazing thoughtfully back at him.  "As liege, it is my part to take the concerns of all my people to heart.  You and yours are already so deeply established there I could not but care for yours as well."

Frodo considered the words and nodded, then, with a smile and only the slightest of winces, he bowed and went to find Sam.

TBC