Title: Frodo's Bane and Pippin's Stomach

Disclaimer: See the previous five chapters! I'm not in the mood for repeating myself right now!

Chapter Six: The Blame Game

Setting: Amon Súl, October 6, 1418. (Yes, we're still there)

        Pippin forced his feet to drag themselves back up the pathway, with no other choice. No more than thirty seconds ago, he had been confident that he could face Sam's wrath. Now, as Sam's huddled form came slowly into view, he found that he suddenly couldn't. He couldn't move, he couldn't bear to see his cousin in such pain, nor the thought of Sam's strong arm breaking his own. He planted his feet firmly to the ground, only to have Merry bump into him.

        "Go on, Pip. I'm right behind you," Merry said, hoping to be of some encouragement, but Pippin hardly seemed to be listening. Merry gave him a little nudge and propelled him foreword, till he stumbled into Sam's view.

        "Hi, Sam," Pippin said, trying to control his shaking voice. He bent down to place the firewood on the ground by Merry's feet. "We brought the firewood."

        The only response he got was an unintelligible sound and a barely perceptible nod, for which Pippin was grateful. At least he would be able to relax before he was slaughtered. In the mean time, he looked down at Frodo's still form. There wasn't any evidence of lingering pain that he could see, and he wasn't sure whether he liked that or not. "How's he doing?"

        "Sleepin'." Sam answered softly, his eyes still locked protectively on his wounded master. Pippin noticed then that Sam's right arm wasn't staying still, it was moving up and down Frodo's left one, as if he were massaging it.

        "What're you doing?"

        "Rubbin' it. Tryin' ta warm it up, Mr. Pippin."

        'Mr. Pippin', Pippin reflected thoughtfully. 'He'll no doubt drop any and all forms for respect when he finds out .' "He's cold?" Pippin prompted, out of both curiosity and a desire to take his mind off of its current course.

        "Aye. I don't know what happened, but he just started goin' cold."

        "Don't worry about that, Sam, it's a cold night. We're all cold."

        Sam nodded, but didn't stop. He couldn't shake the thought that something else was wrong with his master, but decided not to mention his fears to Mr. Frodo's cousins. No need to worry them over what would surely turn out to be nothin' of consequence. It certainly would not be considered out of the ordinary for Mr. Frodo to be cold, but somethin' about the way the cold had encompassed primarily the wounded area so quickly made him uneasy.

        "Have you got that fire ready, Mr. Merry?" Sam knew he should not have left such drudgework for a gentlehobbit, but at the moment, he couldn't find the will-power to move away from his master. Both he and Pippin turned around to find Merry with the stone and match, mumbling curses at the stubborn equipment.

        "Almost," Merry answered through gritted teeth. "Stupid rock," he mumbled as he broke yet another match. Wordlessly, Sam reached over and grabbed the rock and match-box from him. The matches were far too precious to be broken down into unusable pieces. Maybe when they got to Rivendell he would teach them a few survival skills, which would include a few lessons about how to build a successful fire.

        In a matter of seconds, Sam had the perfect fire going, and positioned his master's unresponsive body in such a way that the left shoulder was closest to the fire. Too close, perhaps, for the flames at times seemed to come dangerously close to synging his master's clothing.

        For a good half-hour, the three guard-hobbits formed a protective fire around the circle, sticks at the ready. If any wraith dared approach they would be ready. They would also be praying to the Valar that their "torches" didn't burn away before there was the chance to use them. In the meantime, they sat in uneasy silence - afraid to talk about the only thing that was on their minds. Pippin in particular was shaking, though thankfully it wasn't noticed for Pippin sat on the opposite side of Sam, who rarely took his eyes off of his master. Pippin also noticed, with great concern, that Sam kept touching the skin around the wound, and on the pulse-point of his right wrist.

        During the duration of that time, Pippin found himself considering that perhaps Sam didn't see his blame, or perhaps he was waiting to bring up the issue when his master was better and he had nothing else to worry about. As these thoughts were running frantically through Pippin's head, he vaguely heard Sam trying to suppress his tears. "I'm sorry, Master Frodo! Oh but I am a ninny-hammer. This is all my fault!"

        At those words, Pippin felt his eyes bulge. *What was Sam talking about? How could it possibly be his fault? He had been the only one of the three of them to even do anything. Had he not defiantly shouted "Back, you devils" and when they did not obey, had he not attacked them with as much strength as he could muster? If anyone he held the least blame for the horrid events of that night. "Sam, what are you talking about?" he asked, his astonishment completely unveiled, as he got up and took a seat next to Sam, and rested a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. "You aren't to blame for this at all. You were the only one who challenged those wraiths. You did everything you could!"

        But these words provided no comfort for the gardener/bodyguard. "No I didn't," he sobbed miserably. "I shouldn't've let those things throw me aside! I should have gotten right back up and run back to my master! But I didn't. I laid there like the ninnyhammer I am and watched it happen!"

        "Sam," Merry spoke up from the other side of the fire, "there was nothing you could have done! Frodo put on the Ring! He was invisible. What do you mean 'you watched it'?"

        "I mean that I watched it!" Sam shot back angrily. "I watched those things close in on him! I watched him put on the Ring! And I didn - " As the reality of his own words sunk into his thick skull, Sam held his head in his hands and cried - for his master, and for his own selfishness. When his master was on the brink of being slaughtered all he had done was to lie against the stone wall, swooning from the mild headache that was already gone. At this confession, Pippin found himself staring at Sam, with a his eyes bulged and his jaw dropped: *Frodo put on the Ring! What possessed him to do that! If that be the case, then perhaps it was all Frodo's fault. But no, he obviously had thought to escape them when he was invisible - and who could blame him in that regard. It had always made him invisible before, and yet somehow the wraiths had still found him? Ah well, that still didn't change the fact that if Pippin hadn't drawn the wraiths towards them with the cooking-fire then Frodo would never have had the need to put the Ring on in the first place.* Having come back to the same conclusion that he had started with, he put his head in his hands, and looked at the grieving Sam one again and sighed.

        To Pippin, this scene was becoming far too familiar. It also meant that Sam had been too preoccupied with his own thoughts to hear the discussion that he had had with Merry regarding this same issue. And by blaming himself, it also occurred to Pippin that Sam didn't hold any of it against Pippin. This, of course, meant two things: he could either sit quietly and let Sam drown himself in guilty tears, or he could lie the blame where it truly belonged - on himself. After a mere second of contemplation, Pippin decided that he had done so many things out-of character that night that surely one more wouldn't make a difference. He had never before pointed the blame to himself, when others gladly took it off of his shoulders - whether they did it knowingly or not. But this was no crime of stealing cookies and pies from the pantry. This was far too serious to let stand. "Sam, it's not your fault! You can't jump back up after such an impact, it's just not possible. Nor can you possibly defend an invisible Hobbit. Even if you had jumped back up, you would not have arrived in time to help him, nor would you have gone unnoticed, the wraiths would have just tossed you aside again. Besides, I'm really the one you should be blaming!" *Here it comes!*

        "What do you mean, Mr. Pippin?"

        *Could he really not see the truth? Was his devotion to caring for his master so great that it had blinded him from the truth of how he had become so mortally wounded?* "The cooking-fire," Pippin explained softly, hardly believing his own words, "if I hadn't insisted on that fire then the wraiths never would have found us in the first place. You wouldn't even have had the opportunity to make your 'mistake'."

        Sam remained silent for several moments contemplating the issue. Meanwhile, Pippin and Merry both held their breaths almost to the point of suffocation. "I suppose you're right, Mr. Pippin," Sam agreed, though Pippin couldn't quite figure out how he had maintained the title 'Mr.' if Sam did indeed believe that he was too blame. "But you didn't mean anything by it. We all thought that the Wraiths were several days away, and that they wouldn't be able to climb the watchtower. If we had been correct then it would have been safe, but we weren't and now - " He looked down at the sleeping Frodo - who was hopefully having pleasant dreams, but somehow they all doubted it - and decided that it would be best not to elaborate on the obvious details. Pippin had just let out an enormous sigh of relief, but soon realized that it was a bit pre-mature. "BUT," he began again. This time the tone of his voice was not one of grief, but one of stern warning, though this one topped all of the ones he had received from his parents in both voice and body-stance. His voice was low, the kind that made you wish your parents would yell rather than force themselves into a state of serenity, and the glare in his eyes and the angry set of his jaw said that his word was not to be doubted. "But if he dies, I'll not hesitate to make you wish you were dead too!" After this threat, Sam noticed the Tween's shaking body and returned to his normal voice and composure. Right now though, he's not dead, and as long as he lives I'll not hurt you!"

        At the end of that short and simple, yet terrifying speech, Pippin oddly enough found himself relaxing. *Well at least I won't die tonight!* "Now where's that Strider gotten himself into anyhow?"

        Just as he said that, a shadow descended upon the fire and Sam immediately jumped in front of his master's body, sword drawn while Merry and Pippin stuck their "torches" in the fire, ready to do combat. But there was no need, for as the towering figure drew closer, they could see with unmistakable clarity that it was Strider, not some Wraith as they had feared.

        "I am not a Black Rider, Sam," nor in league with them. "I have been trying to discover something of their movements; but I have found nothing. I cannot think why they have gone and do not attack again. But there is no feeling of their presence anywhere near at hand."

        He now found his attention turned to Frodo and, despite Sam's protest, nudged him awake. "Frodo, how do you feel?"

        "Cold," Frodo answered drowsily, as though the only thing wrong with him were sleepiness. "But it feels weird, just isolated by the shoulder. I know it's a cold night, but my shoulder - I don't know, it just feels far more cold than it ought to."

            Strider nodded in apparent understanding. "Sam, may I speak with you alone for a second?"

            Sam nodded hesitantly, and just as hesitantly, left the young Hobbits in charge of his master's care. In the meantime, Merry and Pippin tried to figure out what Frodo meant by his shoulder being more cold than the rest of him. As they were contemplating this puzzling matter, they over-heard Strider give a peculiar confession to Sam. "I do not blame you for being angry with me, Sam," he said so softly that the Hobbits barely heard him. It was the next line that caught their attention, "For I can imagine that you find fault with me for this incident, since I - knowing that danger was still present - left you unguarded and without advice on how to conduct yourselves in my absence. Since this be the case you are right in lying the blame upon me. But I assure I will do all that I can to see your master safely to Rivendell." After this they heard nothing besides Gandalf's high opinion of Frodo (no surprise there) and once again the caution to keep him warm.

            Once the conversation with Sam had ended, he turned to Merry and Pippin and ordered them to empty their water bottles, fill the kettles and set them over the fire. "He must be kept warm, bathe his shoulder with the water, but do not use all of it. I realize now the extent of this situation and known not how to treat it, but how to lessen the pain. There is an herb, called athelas that I need, I will go looking for it now, but do not use all of the water, for when I return I will need to use it in conjunction with the herb... It is effective by itself, though far less so. Guard him well while I am away."

            After Strider had left them, once again, Merry and Pippin dropped their torches (which were now burning dangerously low to their hands) and tossed them back into the fire. They did as they were told and soon had a kettle of boiling water going. They dipped their handkerchiefs in it, and reluctantly began bathing Frodo's wounded shoulder. None of the wanted to perform this duty, for it seemed that boiling water would only burn his skin, and thus cause more pain. But this was not the case. They found that Frodo actually relaxed and invited the hot, burning liquid, asking for more, and insisting that it was quite "warm". While they were doing this, Frodo seemed to regains some of his lost strength and voice. "I heard that," he mumbled.

            "Heard what, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, hoping that he sounded clueless.

            "You all blaming yourselves," he answered. "You really shouldn't have. After all, it is my fault, on one else's."

            "Frodo what are you talking about? How can you be blamed you were defenseless! We were your defenses and we failed you, we're the ones to blame!" Pippin argued, almost vehemently.

            But Frodo just shook his head. "No, you all DID make mistakes, but it wouldn't have counted for anything if I had not been stupid enough to put on the Ring! I showed them where I was, until that moment I had a moment to escape. They could feel the presence of the Ring, but not the exact location. I could have made a run for it! But I didn't, I allowed myself to be cornered, and then fell to my knees and attacked his feet when I should have stood my own ground."

            "YOU ATTACKED HIM!!!!!?????" all three of his companions shouted in awe and amazement.

            Frodo nodded.  “Then they kicked me back in the stomach. I saw them approaching and was so terrified that I put the Ring on. Then they saw me and stabbed me." His companions could all see the tears gathering in his eyes and guessed that he kept the tears and bay so he would not be forced to move his shoulder. "I didn't realize it at the time, but that's what the wanted me to do! They kept telling me in my head that I had to put it on, as if daring me to run away! Saying that it was my only escape. I took the 'dare' if you will and put it on. And that's just what they wanted me to do! It all worked to their advantage! I should have seen it coming, should have known, after all Gandalf warned me repeatedly not to put it on, but I did. I obeyed not his advice, but that of the Enemy! How could I have been so stupid!?"

            Having no answer that he would listen to, and knowing that it would be a wasted effort to reason with Frodo Baggins in his current, stubborn state, they said nothing. They allowed him to doze off back to sleep and in the meantime continued bathing his wound in an eerie silence, which was eventually broken by Merry. "Well," he said, "apparently I'm the only one not lying the blame upon himself!" At first their was nothing to follow but obstinate silence, but soon they found the jest behind the words and began laughing in spite of themselves. Even Frodo seemed to smile in his sleep at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

            In fact, unbeknown to them, Frodo had not yet fallen asleep, and had recalled a portion of the conversation that he wished very much to address to them while he remembered it. "Sam," he croaked, refusing to open his eyes, knowing that the fire was there and would likely blind him if he did.

            "Yes, Master."

            "I also heard something about killing Pippin. I wasn't mistaken was I?"

            Pippin's blood chilled at the sounds of those words, despite the blazing fire only inches from his face.

        "No, Master Frodo, you weren't. Mr. Pippin said it was his fault, and I said 'Well if that be the case, then if Mr. Frodo dies, well then, I'll make sure you'll wish you were dead too'." Pippin noticed that Sam's face blushed several shades with embarrassment at having been over-heard saying such things about his master's little cousin.

        "I am assuming that that was said in jest, am I right?"

        "Yes, Master. Of course I wouldn't hurt Mr. Pippin. I might want to, but I wouldn't"

        "That's good," came Frodo's drowsy response as he fell asleep.

        At that Pippin sighed and gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar. Good old Sam would never go against his master's wishes. He was safe from Sam's wrath as he could possibly be. Sam was so loyal to his master that Pippin realized that Sam would honor a promise made to his master, even if his master was not alive to hold him accountable. But then again - Sam hadn't exactly PROMISED anything. Pippin held his head in his hands, shaking his head in silent misery *Oh shoot! Here we go again!*

~TBC~

        A/N: Last time I up-date, a matter of what, three days ago, I said an update would be a ways away. But I wrote this in one sitting and I want to get it up. Though, I must say that I want to get it up so that I can post an author note and request.

        Tonight, my Opa (that's German for Grandpa) called up and said that according to an MRI, my Oma (Grandma) has a growth on her brain. Nothing is known for certain about it, tests will be done tomorrow. But for those of you reading this believe in the power of prayer, I would ask you to pray that this is something of a relatively small magnitude (for something of its nature) and that it can be taken care of. But I have a sense of peace because my Oma is a Christian and I know that, should the worst happen, she will go to the Lord Jesus in Heaven. My Opa, however, is not, so please pray that he comes to a saving faith through this, if nothing else, and ask the good Lord to help him through such a difficult time.

        I was nearly done with this chapter when we received the call. But now that it has arrived I won't be able to work on my stories for a while. So if it seems like I have abandoned them in taking a long time to up-date, please know that that is not the case for either of my stories. I will soon finish the Party chapter for "His Little Evenstar" - I need something light-hearted to work on, not dying, painful stories of guilt like this one, right now - and I will be posting a similar message at the end of chapter five of that story.

        Thank you all and God bless!

        And if any of you would like up-dates on her condition please leave an e-mail and I WILL get back to you. I would also like to ask that you take this request to your church and prayer groups! Please, it can do nothing but help! 

     I have a continual up-date on her condition going on.  You can find it by going to my Links, one of which is my new Lord of the Rings Homepage, then go to the section entitled "Oma Update Info". If you want to know how she's doing you can just read it there and drop me an e-mail if you want to, which I would encourage.  

        Oh, and one more thing! I PROMISE to get them off of Weathertop next chapter. *smiles* I think I might just be enjoying torturing you people with suspense! Not that it's too much suspence since you all probably know the books backwards and forwards by now anyways.