UNLIKELY COMFORT

Chapter 8 -- Shadows

The Precious was so close. We were right next to them and they never knew, no they didn’t. The Man, we remember him. And the nasty Elf with bright eyes who prisoned us, we remember him too. Baggins travels with them. Why, we wonders? Baggins is asleep, the Man gave him something to make him sleepy. Foolish. The Precious is awake, where are they taking it? So close. We hate Baggins. The Precious is awake. Precioussss.

*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn lay quietly, tired but still alert. Time passed and he was thinking about his youth, and Gandalf, when an almost imperceptible, muffled sound caught his attention. He opened his eyes and saw a movement, something dark and low to the ground near the hobbits. It didn’t move like a wolf, or an Orc, more like… a brief glimpse of glowing eyes, then darkness again. He grabbed the knife hidden in his boot. Suddenly he realized the faint sound he had heard was not from the shadowy form; it was from Frodo.

He leaped up with a shout, flinging himself forward and missing the dark shadow by inches. There was a loud hiss as it seemed to melt back into the trees and disappear. Merry sat upright, his eyes wide at the sight of Aragorn lying on the ground next to him holding his knife.

“What---?” Merry looked around wildly. “Strider, is it Orcs?”

Hearing the shout, Legolas and Sam had burst into the clearing from opposite sides of the camp, Legolas with an arrow fitted to his bow, Sam running to where Frodo lay. Boromir and Gimli were on their feet in an instant.

Sam suddenly pulled the blanket off Frodo. “Strider, I don’t think he’s breathing!” he gasped. “What’s happened?”

“Merry, make sure Pippin is unharmed,” Aragorn said. He knelt next to Frodo and saw that Sam was right, he wasn’t breathing. The Ranger was relieved to find a weak pulse, and he quickly tilted Frodo’s head back and blew three slow, even breaths into his mouth. He waited, then did it again. Sam and Merry had practically stopped breathing themselves, and Legolas was searching the surrounding area for any sign of whatever Aragorn had chased away.

Suddenly Frodo took a breath, then another, and Aragorn sighed in relief as the Frodo’s breathing became regular and even. Aragorn shook him a bit and called his name, and was reassured when Frodo came awake just enough to murmur something and move a bit before sinking back into the drugged sleep. Aragorn checked for injuries and found none, and he felt gently to make sure the Ring still lay safely beneath Frodo’s shirt. He then looked around, realizing everyone was still sitting or standing in a state of shock and confusion. Legolas had returned after finding nothing. Aragorn checked Frodo’s pulse once more then stood up. He was angry.

“It was Gollum. I think he pressed the blanket over Frodo’s face and tried to smother him so he could search him for the Ring without him resisting. He senses Frodo carries it, but he doesn’t know where.”

Sam could hardly speak. “That, that murderous…we didn’t hear a thing, Strider, I promise,” he said, close to tears. He turned to Legolas, wide eyed. Merry looked equally stricken.

“I know, it wasn’t your fault,” Aragorn assured them. “I didn’t hear him either. That blasted creature is like a serpent in the grass. Frodo must have been able to struggle a bit even in such a deep sleep. If I had been asleep…if I hadn’t heard him…” He looked off into the trees, getting angry again. “Somehow that creature followed us straight through Moria and every mile since. He knew Frodo wouldn’t wake too easily, he must have been watching us.” Aragorn made up his mind. “We must reach Lórien tomorrow, whatever it takes. I don’t think Frodo will have any difficulties, but if he does, we’ll have to carry him. We need more protection. The borders are well patrolled, and the Elves will not let anything through.”

Gimli looked at him, giving voice to something that had been concerning him. “They may not let me through, Aragorn.”

“Gimli son of Glóin, if you are denied admittance to Lothlórien I will not enter the Golden Wood either.” Gimli stared, open-mouthed, as Legolas continued. “We are a Fellowship and we stand together.”

“Strider,” Merry asked, pointing to Pippin and Frodo, “should we tell them about Gollum? When they wake up, I mean.”

“Yes, Merry, we’ll tell them. Legolas is right. We are a Fellowship and we stand together.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We were very lucky.” Aragorn looked down at the two sleeping forms and shook his head in amazement. “How Pippin slept through this I will never know.”

“Well,” Merry said hesitantly, “He might have had a sip out of that mug Frodo left out. He didn’t drink much, though, since he said it tasted like---”

“I understand,” Aragorn said with a weary smile. “I never thought of knocking him unconscious before,” he mused. “I wonder why?”

“Aragorn,” said Boromir, “You have had no rest. Gimli and I can start our watch early and wake you later, if you wish.” Gimli nodded, already fingering his axe.

“Wake me as well,” said Merry. “Assuming I’m asleep, which I doubt.”

“All right,” said Aragorn. “Stay closer to camp. A lot closer. I doubt that Gollum will return tonight though, or anytime soon, now that we’ve been alerted.” Merry and Sam returned to their bedrolls, and Aragorn brought his closer to them. Sam sat on his blanket, one hand resting protectively on Frodo’s chest. He stared into the forest, reassured by his friend’s deep, even breaths. Merry pulled his bedroll closer to Pippin and lay down.

Boromir had been looking thoughtful, and he took Legolas aside. “It’s possible that Orc did not miss you after all. Perhaps he hit exactly what he was aiming at.”

Legolas stared at him. “Are you suggesting that arrow was actually meant for Frodo?” He thought about it. “You could be right, it was too low to have killed me. That would mean…that creature Gollum was directing them. There would be no other reason to aim at one of the hobbits.” The Elf looked grim. “Aragorn is right. We must reach the Golden Wood without delay.”

** TBC **