UNLIKELY COMFORT

Chapter 6 -- A Secret Kept

An hour passed during which Frodo rested, everyone took some food, and Aragorn and Legolas scoured the land around them for signs of any more Orcs. They found nothing.

Merry walked over to where Boromir was standing, scanning the valley below. “Boromir, could you please take that arrow out of your shield?”

Boromir looked down at Merry, amused. “Of course, Merry. Do you want it?” He went over to where his shield lay next to his pack, pulled the black arrow out with some effort, and held it out out.

Merry grew a bit pale and stepped back. “No, no. I just didn’t want to see it…sticking out like that.”

The warrior tossed the arrow aside and knelt down in front of the hobbit, puzzled. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Merry looked at him with troubled eyes. “I’m sorry Frodo got hurt, but if he hadn’t been standing there…” He bit his lip. “Well, Pippin was right behind him. Pippin would have been…”

“Oh.” Boromir nodded. He sat down and Merry sat beside him. Boromir realized that Merry had been picturing Pippin with an arrow sticking out of him. “I’m sorry, Merry, I wasn’t thinking.” They sat in silence for awhile. “You know,” Boromir continued, “I have a younger brother back home. I know how it feels to be looking out for someone, trying to keep someone you care about out of trouble. But Merry…”

Merry looked up as Boromir started chuckling.

“I think it would take more than an arrow to kill that one, my friend.” They both smiled at the sight of Pippin, practically upside down, pulling things out of one of the packs. “If Aragorn doesn’t toss him to the Orcs himself, he might just make it through all this just fine.” He felt better when Merry started to laugh a little. And then a lot.

*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn came over to Frodo and sat down. “Those two Orcs seem to have been alone, Frodo, but I don’t think any of us want to spend much more time near them. Wild animals may be drawn to them, or worse. Do you think you can walk, slowly, for a few hours until we can find a better place to camp?”

“Yes,” Frodo said, firmly. “Or at least, I think so. Help me up and I’ll see if I can manage it.” He held his hand up, and Aragorn helped him rise slowly to his feet.

“It’s not…too bad,” said Frodo, experimenting with walking around a bit. “The athelas has helped a lot. I’m not sure I can manage a pack, though.”

Aragorn looked at him closely. Frodo seemed a bit pale, but otherwise all right. “Very well,” he said. “I think by the time we stop, though, you may be ready for another dose of that herb drink. At least I can promise you a night’s sleep without pain.”

“Herb drink,” Frodo looked puzzled. “What…oh.” He suddenly had a vague memory of drinking something fairly vile the night before. He looked at Aragorn so mournfully that the Ranger burst out laughing.

Aragorn insisted on carrying Frodo back down the hill, then they set off again at a gentler pace. Gimli, invigorated by his encounter with the Orcs and Frodo’s recovery, had insisted on carrying Frodo’s pack. The Company walked more warily now, and a little closer together. Aragorn and Boromir stayed out in front followed by Gimli, Pippin and Frodo, with Sam, Merry and Legolas in the rear. After awhile they began to pass occasional trees and tiny, sparkling streams.

Sam couldn’t relax, casting worried glances all around. “The sooner we get to that Lórien Aragorn is talking about, the better I’ll like it. I hope it’s like Rivendell,” he said to Merry.

Legolas heard them and came up to join the pair. “Lothlórien is unlike Rivendell, Sam, but I think you’ll feel just as safe there. My people speak of a power there unmatched anywhere else in Middle-earth. I, too, long to reach the Golden Wood.” Legolas was quiet for awhile, thinking of all he had heard about the realm of the Lord and Lady of the Wood.

To distract himself, Sam amused himself by listening to Gimli patiently trying to answer Pippin’s endless questions about mithril. Frodo occasionally added something Bilbo had told him. Sam suddenly realized that Frodo had stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence. He hurried up to him.

“Mr. Frodo? Are you all right?”

Frodo stopped walking and grasped Sam’s shoulder, trying to steady himself. “Sam…I think…I’m going to…faint…” He seemed to be having trouble breathing. Sam could feel Frodo’s hand shaking.

Legolas and Merry rushed up, and with one look at Frodo’s pale face the Elf guided him down to a sitting position, drew the hobbit’s knees up, and pushed Frodo’s head between them. “Breathe, Frodo. Breathe as deeply as you can. I know it hurts. Breathe.” He looked up. “Pippin, run and tell Aragorn we need him. No shouting, though.” Pippin nodded, and raced ahead as fast as he could.

Frodo concentrated on taking one breath after another, trying to ignore the soreness in his chest. He still felt lightheaded, but not as badly as before. Legolas was rubbing the back of his neck, which seemed to be helping as well.

“Frodo?” Aragorn knelt down beside him.

“I’m sorry, Aragorn,” Frodo said. “Just…couldn’t catch my breath for a minute. I feel much better now.” He took a another deep breath, feeling the shakiness start to subside.

“Hmm. I think the bindings may be too tight about your chest, I apologize. We should…”

“Aragorn, no,” Frodo sighed. “I can’t be the cause of us stopping every few hours. We’ll never get anywhere.”

The Ranger smiled at him, giving the hobbit more time to just breathe and relax a little. “Your tenacity is admirable, but there certainly isn’t any point in us ‘getting anywhere’ at all, if you’re not with us. Elrond gave you companions for a reason, my friend.” He looked up as Merry pointed to where Boromir, some distance ahead, was waving to the group from a tree- shadowed glade. He waved back.

“I asked Boromir to find a sheltered spot to rest. Come, it’s not far. I’ll be able to loosen the bindings a bit and Pippin can have a snack. I don’t want him fainting too.” Aragorn was relieved to see Frodo manage a small smile.

Pippin, now that he knew Frodo was all right, clearly found the thought of a snack a marvelous idea. He ran ahead with Merry while Aragorn helped Frodo to his feet.

As they walked slowly to the glade, Frodo looked up at Aragorn. “Pippin’s grown a lot, Aragorn. He’s truly been so courageous. Hobbits, especially hobbits Pippin’s age, are used to so much more. More comfort, more rest, more food…”

“I know,” Aragorn smiled at him. “And he’s good for you, Frodo, I know that.”

Aragorn’s smile faded as his thoughts returned to their close call with the Orcs, and the time it was taking him to get the Company safely to Lórien. He meant for the group to put more distance between themselves and Moria before sunset.

Frodo needed more than a brief rest, he knew, but not because of the reason he had told him. Aragorn knew the bandages were not tight enough to restrict breathing; he suspected that Frodo’s system was reacting to having had a second shock in as many days. Not to mention the burden of the Ring. Lórien was a place of peace and healing, as he well knew. He just had to get them there.

His own shock and grief at Gandalf’s death he kept to himself; the full burden of leadership also weighed heavily on him. But Frodo needed him now. They all needed him. Everything else must wait.

** TBC **