“I thought it was just so much foolishness. As though the likes of us wavin’ flamin’ sticks about would really scare off Black Riders. ‘Specially with them all together as they were.”

“You’ve the truth of it there, Sam.” Merry looked down at Frodo with worried eyes. “Are you sure we ought to be talking about all this just now, Gandalf? I mean, might Frodo hear this and . . . well, it could be troubling to him.”

The wizard laid a hand upon Frodo’s brow. All was silent for a few moments until Gandalf opened his eyes as he tucked his hand back up the opposing arm’s sleeve. “He is far from us yet, Meriadoc, I’m sorry to say.” He saw the worry lines deepen on the younger hobbit’s brow, so hastened to add, “Though not nearly as far as he was, Meriadoc. He is healing and sleeping deeply. What is said shan’t disturb him I’m sure.”

“Well,” continued Merry, “I’m sure it wasn’t really us that panicked the Riders and their horses. More likely it was Glorfindel and Strider they were none too glad to see.”

“I don’t know about that, Merry,” Pippin said while moving his right arm about as though he were waving his flaming brand in the air. “Glorfindel said they wouldn’t like fire coming at them. I’m certain we helped somewhat or they, Strider and Glorfindel that is, wouldn’t have bothered taking the time to start the fire and all.”

“He did say that, Mr. Pippin.” Sam nodded at the youngest cousin. “But, whether or no, that flood put a quick end to them. I’m thinkin’ Lord Glorfindel knew that would happen, knew the river would rise right up like that when them filthy wraiths set their horses into the water. It was a right good thing that Elf horse got to the top of the bank with Mr. Frodo.”

There was a pause in the telling of their journey and Gandalf looked carefully at each hobbit standing around Frodo’s bed. They all still showed signs of their exhaustion despite their relief that Frodo was finally free of the shard of Morgul blade that had been burrowing into his body. They were all feeling the healing effects of the House of Elrond; Pippin in particular had been light of heart and under foot. But as they had gathered around Frodo’s bed this evening they had begun to speak of their journey and the wizard had made no effort to discourage them.

“Don’t know quite where my head was at,” Sam said softly. “I didn’t even see him . . .” He paused, swallowing at the lump in his throat. “He fell off that great horse and I didn’t see it. Great lot of good I was. Sorry, Gandalf. I didn’t watch out for him as I should’ve.”

Merry spoke instead of the wizard. “As though any of us saw it happen, Sam. We were too busy being scared nearly out of our wits at the thought of rushing at the Riders, then being scared because we were actually doing it. I could scarcely believe my eyes when everything calmed down a bit and I looked across the river and saw the horse standing there without a rider. I nearly fainted away at that point thinking Frodo had got washed away in that torrent.” Merry rested his right hand on Frodo’s shoulder, as though he still needed reassurance that his dear cousin was actually there. He spoke as if to himself. “I barely remember getting across the river.”

“Strider carried you and me, Merry,” Pippin said. “And Glorfindel carried Sam. I had wondered how we would cross as the water was up to Frodo’s feet while he crossed on the horse, and that was before the flooding.”

Merry looked at Pippin as though the lad hadn’t a brain in his head, though it was more irritation with himself that Pippin had noticed that detail while he had not. But then again he had been paying attention to Glorfindel and Strider telling the hobbits what to do. Pippin had obviously been looking around instead. “I know that, Pip,” Merry snapped. “It just . . . I just . . . sorry, Pippin.” He patted his cousin as he calmed down. “I remember that now, but at the time I really didn’t notice or care. Then when we got to the top of the bank and they set us down . . .”

“Set us by the horse with it all wild-eyed and . . .” Sam swallowed hard once again. He had been much too consumed with Frodo’s condition and Lord Elrond’s treatment and care of him to have thought much about what had happened before now. “I think that beast wouldn’t ‘ave let none of us near Mr. Frodo if his master hadn’t been there. Then, when Glorfindel moved the horse aside there was Frodo, lying there on his face . . . just . . . laying in the mud and grass . . .”

All was still for many moments.

“Looking dead.”

Merry and Sam looked at Pippin with slightly shocked expressions on their faces. They had all thought it, at the time. They had all thought it on the long slow walk from the river to Rivendell. They had all thought it, and hated themselves for thinking it, as Frodo was tended that first night by the Elf Lord. They had all thought it until the moment the bit of cursed steel had been removed and assurance given that Frodo Baggins would live. They had all felt like traitors for thinking such hopeless thoughts. But they hadn’t been so lacking in concern for Frodo, or each other, that they had spoken the thought aloud.

“Pippin!” Merry exclaimed in a terse whisper.

“He did. He did and we all thought it . . . well, I thought it and I thought you both thought it. But . . . I didn’t say anything. We none of us said a thing. I . . . we couldn’t, wouldn’t . . . we had had all that energy when we chased the Riders with those burning sticks, and I think if we could have waded the river we would have run up the bank. I could feel it, I think we would have tried to fight our way past the horse if we’d had to until . . .” Pippin gasped in a breath at last, shuddering as he did so. “Do you remember the walk the rest of the way here? Do you, Merry? Sam?” He looked from one to the other.

Gandalf watched them all. They had grown pale. Tears that had come in small spurts before, quickly dried and hidden behind hopeful words to their unconscious friend and kinsman, now ran freely. Merry and Sam shook their heads.

“I don’t either. There was no energy left. There was . . . nothing left because we thought he was dead, or too near to . . .” Pippin stopped, a look of horror in his eyes.

“Joinin’ them wraiths.”

This time Pippin and Merry looked at Sam.

“We none o’ us said naught of that either, but it was like the other. We were all thinkin’ on it and dreadin’ it.”

One by one, without noticing they were doing it, they had each reached out to rest a hand on Frodo while looking at his now peaceful face. Each one was quietly asking Frodo’s forgiveness while hoping he would sense the joy they felt knowing he would live.

“Do you think Bilbo felt the same?” Pippin finally broke the silence. “He looks so much older now. I was afraid for him as well. That is, after we’d had some food and that little bit of rest and I had wits about me enough to notice him looking older and so very worried. I wasn’t at all sure he’d make it if the worst had happened to Frodo.”

“He has aged.” Merry gave Frodo’s shoulder a squeeze then turned to hug Pippin. “I think he’s all right, Pip. I somehow felt he knew more about all of this than we did, having . . . had the Ring himself,” he finished in a low whisper. “I think he’s been blaming himself for everything.”

“I think you are right, Meriadoc,” Gandalf finally spoke. “But I think Bilbo’s understanding of Frodo’s struggle and the love all of you have for Frodo, did much to save Frodo. I think it gave him strength to hold on to this world. And now I think it is time for the three of you to do more recovering yourselves by getting another good meal and some sleep.” The wizard quickly held up a quieting hand, anticipating a protest from Sam. “Ah, ah, ah! You too, Samwise Gamgee. I will stay here with Frodo. You are all to eat well and then sleep. I will have you all sent for in four hours time. Now off with you all before I make it six hours.”

The hobbits grumbled a bit but Gandalf heard their pleasant voices, lifted in jest and laughter, fading into the distance as they went to follow his orders.