Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like writing about them.

Man of Quality

Dusk settled into night as the hobbit made his way from the celebration into the cool night air where he could have a little peace. He knew his servant and most loyal friend was acting on his behalf, but he was not in a partying mood. The lights, laughter, and music were all becoming unbearable. His head pounded to the beat of the music. He also noticed when speaking with Eowyn, the candlelights seemed to reflect off her lovely white gown, making it sparkle causing his eyes to ache. He must have seemed rude as he blinked several times as she all of a sudden excused herself in mid sentence. He made a mental note to apologize to her later, after he rid himself of his confounded headache. When Frodo observed Sam walking towards the farthest side of the hall, that was when he had made his escape.

Unbeknownst to the hobbit, one of the guests were watching him. Not as a favor to the King, but as a promise to himself. The former Steward of Gondor's son had taken upon himself to thank the Ringbearer personally for saving Middle-Earth and the hopes that he would forgive him of his mistrust in Ithilien. Even though they had parted ways on good terms, Faramir had hoped to meet Frodo again to apologize. When Faramir observed Frodo slipping out of the hall onto the balcony, the time seemed to be as good as any to approach the Ringbearer.

After successfully escaping, Frodo approached the balcony. A gentle breeze caught his curls blowing them softly, refreshing his senses as he inhaled. Rain was in the air. It had not yet begun, but Frodo knew it was not far off. Probably just past the mountain range. Inhaling deeply had relieved some of the stress he was feeling, but the pounding in his head was persistent. So intense was the pain, Frodo did not hear the approaching footsteps nor the constant repitition of his name being called.

"Frodo?", Faramir called. When he received no reply he tried again as he touched the Ringbearer's shoulder,"Frodo?"

The hobbit quickly turned his body at the touch, backing up against the stone wall. When his eyes focused on the big person he spoke, "Captain Faramir...I mean Steward. I was not expecting anyone else to be out here."

"Forgive me," Faramir said waving his hand, "I did not meant to startle you." He then stepped back a couple of feet realizing at their last encounter he forcefully backed Frodo against a cave wall trying to take the Ring. "This time I mean you no harm. I noticed you gave your bodyguard the slip. Is everything all right?"

Frodo's brows quirked as he tried to recall the incident. Understanding the irony of the situation he let his body relax. "Sam has been at my side since..." he trailed off, not looking at Faramir. "Well, just since, and I thought he would enjoy an evening by himself. Besides, I just wanted a breath of fresh air and glimpse the wonderful city lights that Boromir had spoken so fondly of," he said hoping that would take care of Faramir's curosity and be off.

Faramir was not leaving just yet. This hobbit thought he could brush him off that easily. Did he still harbor ill will against him? He needed to clear the air between them. "I noticed you were speaking to Lady Eowyn..." he did not finish as he was interrupted.

"So, you are here to save Lady Eowyn's honor? Please tell my lady that I am sorry to have winked at her. I think she took it the wrong way. I had something in my eye," he lied sounding annoyed. "If you would like to settle this the hobbit way, I am sure we can procure some ale, but not tonight," he continued slowly as the floor began to spin, "for I am not in the best of physical condition to sword fight, especially you. Now, if you would leave me to my vices, I will find my bed soon enough. Good night." Frodo turned to leave holding tightly onto the bannister. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he had already begun his descent down the stairway. Missing the first step, the hobbit plummeted to the bottom landing with a thud. He had not realize that a certain Captain had tried to stop his fall by grabbing onto his cloak.

Faramir raced down the stairwell stopping at the bottom quickly falling to his knees at Frodo's fallen form. "Frodo? Can you hear me?" Faramir asked as he checked the little body for any broken bones. The only thing he found was a bump forming on the back of Frodo's head as well as a warm swollen area at the nape of his neck. Concerned for the former Ringbearer, Faramir signaled a guard to watch over the hobbit as he ran to fetch the King.

Faramir found Aragorn in the middle of raising his glass as to yet another toast made to the saving of Minas Tirith and to the reign of their new King. "My liege," he interrupted after bowing, then grabbing hold of Aragorn's arm leading him away, "there is a problem that you must tend to."

Aragorn cast a look of disgust towards Faramir's actions and quickly pulled his arm out of the Captain's grip expecting an explanation before continuing. "I hope that this life threatening to pull me..." he stopped as he saw an exasperated Sam running towards him.

All but stopping in front of Aragorn to bow or not to bow, it was Sam's turn to pull on the King's arm. "Strider, King, Aragorn..." he breathed, "Frodo. He's hurtin' pretty bad."

"What? Where?" Aragorn asked confusedly as he was led out to the balcony, where only moments before Frodo had escaped to and was now at the bottom of the staircase. The was a guard there as well, just standing over the hobbit's inert body. A crowd started to gather as Aragorn, Sam, and Faramir descended the stairs crouching at Frodo's side.

"Sam, what happened?" Aragorn asked as he started to go over Frodo's body feeling for any broken bones. When it came to examining the head he had found the bump that Faramir had also felt, but this time when Aragorn pulled back his hand there was a small amount of blood coating his fingers.

"I don't know. I didn't see Mr. Frodo leave, so when I did not see him at the party I started looking for 'im," Sam stated then looked at Faramir before continuing his story. "I found 'im on the balcony talkin' to Cap'n Faramir here. It was their talk, so I just waited until they were through before I would come out. Then, Mr. Frodo here was talkin about some sort of duel and honor of Lady Eowyn, and he got louder. I turned my back for just one minute, then I'd seenMr. Frodo fall down the stairs with Cap'n Faramir in front of him. I think he pushed him down the stairs!" Sam exclaimed, tears flowing freely.

Now, Faramir was nodding, agreeing to everything that Samwise had said that took place, except him pushing Frodo down the stairs. He blanched, eyes wide at the comment just made. He looked into the eyes of the King and shook his head. "That is not how it happened at all," he stammered. "Just ask the guard."

Aragorn looked up at the guard and said, "Well, did you see what happened?"

The guard looked up at the sky and thought for a moment before replying, "Cap'n Faramir did call me over to guard the Ringbearer..."

"See?" Faramir concluded.

"But," the guard continued, "I did hear the Cap'n here and the Ringbearer arguing before him falling," the guard stated pointing to Frodo.

Aragorn could not believe that Faramir would do such a thing. True, he had heard that he treated Sam and Frodo sorely when they tried to make their way through Itilien. Pippin spoke so honorably of the Captain as he tried to gain his father's love by riding back to Osgilith, an apparent suicide mission. He was glad that Lady Eowyn had finally found someone to love. Lady Eowyn was madly in love with Faramir, and him her. A relief off of his mind since he was betrothed to Arwen.

"Captain Faramir, can you explain?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir just wanted to apologize to Frodo. How would he know it would end up in such a mess. He began to open his mouth when a small groan came from the form lying on the ground.

" Mr.Frodo, open your eyes," Sam asked his master as he cradled him in his arms.

Images of fireworks exploded in front of his eyes. They slowly faded as his eyes focused on a bearded man calling his name. Dizziness assailed him again as he felt someone lifting his shoulders. Fingers clutched onto fabric as he held on for dear life.

" Mr.Frodo?" Sam called again.

Frodo realized the fabric he was holding onto belonged to his friend, Sam. He looked up, not answering with his mouth, but with his furroughed eyes. He looked up at Sam for a moment, then his eyes drifted towards his left and seen a bearded man leaning very close to him. It was Captain Faramir. He was going to take the Ring. He shook his head, eyes gleaming with fear in his voice shouted out,"NO! Stay away!"

Sam felt Frodo's body stiffened as he buried his face in his servant's tunic. Sam quickly closed his gaping mouth, having no words to utter for the actions of his master. His eyes turned upward to the King in the hopes that he could help.

Aragorn had seen the exchange take place and he had no choice but to imprison Faramir until this situation was resolved. "Captain Faramir, I am relieving you of your duties. You will remain prisoner in your quarters under guard until further notice. Guards!"

Faramir's face paled and offered no resistance as he was taken away.

As King, Aragorn had no other choice, and he knew he would soon feel the wrath of Lady Eowyn when she receives word of his actions. Voices could be heard whispering in the shadows as his orders were carried out. The former Ranger solemnly looked down to two little hobbits, one clutching to the other for dear life. Aragorn knelt beside Sam and gently took the Ringbearer into his arms, carrying him back to his chambers, deciding that the little one had had enough of healing houses and sick beds.

tbc.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story; they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Man Of Quality

Chapter 2

The fury of a woman scorned was no match to Lady Eowyn’s anger when she had burst into the King’s chambers. Aragorn was expecting her, and her fury. Her cheeks were crimson read, obviously running from whatever corridor she was in when she had been informed that her fiance had been unjustly confined to his quarters. Aragorn had sent a guard to find her and to escort her back to his chambers. Obviously, she had come alone leaving the guard behind.

“I demand to know why Faramir is kept under guard, my Lord,” she used loosely. Her upbringing commanded her to respect elders as well as men of title, but it was going to end here. She had stood her ground wielding her sword; fighting as a man defending her lands, people, and their way of life. She surely was not going to back down now. She had her arms crossed, still breathing heavily, adorned in the same dress from the evening’s celebration. It’s beautiful white fabric illuminated by the lit candelabras. Her hair had been braided and neatly pulled into a bun, set off by a silver crown.

The King just looked at the beauty radiating from her. A light just as bright as his beloved’s. Arwen had excused herself earlier to tend to the Ringbearer so that he could talk to Eowyn alone. Aragorn had carried Frodo to the spare room down the hall from his main bedroom chambers. He knew that Frodo hated the healing houses and maybe by recovering in a familiar bed, the Ringbearer would fair better.

The rumors had spread quickly about the cause of Faramir’s imprisonment, that Arwen had suggested to her husband that he speak to Lady Eowyn in private. That maybe she could shed some light on the cause of the argument.

“I am waiting for an answer,” she replied, a little more calmly.

“Lady Eowyn,” Aragorn began, “I do not know how to say this … but I have to ask you a personal question?”

Now Eowyn came here to discuss Faramir, not her personal life. Why in the world would the King, who had no feeling for here than that of a sister, want to know anything about herself? “You may, my lord,” she answered, curiosity getting the best of her.

Looking at the ground to gather his courage, he then raised his eyes to Lady Eowyn’s and sounded as serious as he could, “Did Frodo make any gestures towards you this evening that would cause Faramir to defend your honor?” there he said it. As odd as it sounded, hoping he knew Frodo well enough that he would not disgrace himself by committing such act.

Eowyn was taken aback. First, she wanted to know how the King obtained this knowledge and secondly she had decided to disregard the matter all together. The hobbits were a gentle lot, as she found out by riding with the Ringbearer’s cousin, Merry. He had risked his life by slaying the Witch King when she was in his deadly grasp. She shuddered at the memory. Merry had also been the one to introduce the Lady Eowyn to Captain Faramir when they were in the healing houses.

She had recalled that Frodo had not looked at all himself this past evening. That maybe he was coming down with something. She had excused herself quite unexpectedly as the hobbit kept winking at her, trying not to offend him or herself. After careful consideration she answered as truthfully as she could without embarrassing herself or the Ringbearer, “No.”

Aragorn paced in front of Lady Eowyn for a moment or two before giving his explanation. “As you may have heard, there was an altercation out on the terrace outside of the banquet hall. Frodo fell down the stairs,” Aragorn explained.

Eowyn looked at the King in confusion and asked the obvious, “I hope he is all right, but I do not see how that imprisons Faramir?” Then it dawned on her. “Unless Faramir did the pushing?”

Aragorn had poured himself a cordial and her one as well. He approached with the glass offering her it to her. She was going to need it. Eowyn gracefully accepted the beverage and took a sip. “I know this all sounds so incredulous, but I do not have all the facts as of yet. I only have a guard's testimony and one servant's opinion,” he explained taking a sip of his cordial then setting the decorative stem back on the serving tray. He thought on the last statement. He valued Sam as a friend and also as a loyal servant to Frodo. He would do everything in his power to protect him. That dedication showed through as Aragorn heard tale that Sam had fought Orcs, carried Frodo up Mt. Doom, and saving his masters life; dangling over the same cliff that Gollum had gone over palming the Ring. How could he ever doubt his word? He heard a frightened Frodo answering his question. Was Frodo in is right mind when he told Faramir to stay away from him? The King’s concentration was broken when a familiar perfume permeated the air. He looked up following the lovely creature that was his wife drift into the room soundlessly. The fragrance gave her away. Arwen’s lovely raven-black hair hung down freely covering her shoulders. Of the many gowns that she wore, this one flattered her figure. It was a soft heavy fabric that seemed darker when brushed one way and lighter when brushed in the opposite direction. The color was lavender as the flower itself. Her waist was accentuated with a hand made trim as was the collar. The only thing that never changed since her coming from Rivendell to Minas Tirith was that she remained barefoot. Aragorn found it attractive and the only time he requested her to use footwear was if she was riding her horse.

“How is Frodo?” Aragorn asked also handing his beloved a cordial. Lady Eowyn bowed as the Queen passed her to sit down on the settee.

After taking a quick sip she replied, “He is not fully awake. Sam is at his side, as always. His cousins are there as well. I dismissed Pippin from duty at this time, and of course Eomer did the same for Merry. I am concerned. The bump on his neck, did that come from the fall?” she asked.

“I have not a clue. Did you not ask Sam? Frodo had many injuries upon his return. There were too many to count,” Aragorn remembered as the Eagles brought the two hobbits down from the exploding Mt. Doom. They were covered from head to toe with soot, scratches and opened wounds. Frodo bore a mark around his neck that the chain made digging into his skin. Then there was the old wound on his shoulder from the Morgul blade. It was red and swollen. Then there was another wound, in the same vicinity as the Queen was describing, but it was so small that he thought it was just another scratch. The major one he had concentrated on was the finger on his left hand. It had been bitten off, bleeding profusely. It was a good thing that Sam had thought to wrap it up.

“I did not ask Sam. He was too distraught at the time. I gave him a sleeping cordial. I wanted you to come and look over the Ringbearer. He does not bode well to me, Estel.”

Aragorn knew something bothered Arwen if she called him Estel. She only used his Elvish name when she was angry or concerned.

Eowyn overheard the conversation and had asked to accompany the King to see the Ringbearer. She was concerned about Faramir and knew in her own heart that he would not injure Frodo.  Eowyn was not told what had transpired between Sam and Frodo in Ithilien when they were captured by Faramir and his men; how they were mistreated then, at the end, was released to continue their journey. But not without a price. A price Gondor would have paid dearly if Frodo had not been taken down by his servant while trying to put on the Ring. Almost a moment too late did Faramir launch an arrow that pierced the winged fell beast carrying the Nazgul. “My Lord, where is the Ringbearer? May I see him?”

“He is resting in a room next to this one. It is one chamber down on the left. But I would like to examine him first,” Aragorn said then added, “You may visit with Faramir. Do not, however, ask him anything about what happened. I will confer with him after I speak to Frodo.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Eowyn spoke. She then bowed to the Queen and left the chambers, walking swiftly down the hall to Faramir’s quarters.

As Aragorn and Arwen watched Eowyn depart their room, Arwen spoke, “she will not hold this over you. She does not understand what happened between Frodo and Faramir in Ithilien. No one believed there was still any ill will between them. Not even Sam.”

Aragorn sighed deeply, nodding in agreement. He went behind the partition and changed into leggings and a looser tunic. He wanted himself to be comfortable and to get out of those “Kingly clothes”. He was still not used to dressing up in formal attire and felt more comfortable wearing his Ranger clothing. He opted to compromise from both worlds.

When he finished, he opened the door and looked at his Queen. “You go, darling. I shall wait here. If you need me to summon my father, just let me know and I will send a rider. He is not that far away.” Aragorn nodded and walked out the door, opposite the direction Lady Eowyn had taken earlier.

Tbc.

Man of Quality: Chapter 3

Lady Eowyn neared the chambers that her fiance, Faramir, currently occupied. A Gondorian guard was posted just outside the doorway. “I have permission to see the prisoner,” she told him. When the guard just looked at her she added, “By the King”. The guard then placed his hand on the door handle and opened it for Lady Eowyn to gain entry.

“Eowyn!” Faramir called out to his bride to be, rising from the settee by the fire. He had been thinking about the events that had taken place to lead him being imprisoned in his own home. In the meantime, he had managed to take his formal attire off, now wearing a simple tunic of dark purple with gray leggings and black boots. Standing in place, not knowing what to do he stared at Eowyn’s stunning beauty not knowing why she had chosen him for her husband. “Please forgive me, Eowyn, for I have disgraced you.”

Bewildered by his statement, she walked closer to him, putting out her hand for him to take hold. “Faramir, I…I am not disgraced. I am merely worried for your well being. I do not believe the rumors that you could hurt anyone, be it man or hobbit,” she waited with bated breath.

Faramir looked into Eowyn’s eyes and wondered if she really believed that he had done such a horrible thing. Of course she does not believe it, he mused to himself. But why is she really here? Did Frodo dishonor her. Is that why Frodo was so quick to end the conversation? Again mulling over in his mind the events that played out frame by frame.

Silence speaking louder than words, Eowyn interrupted Faramir’s thoughts. “Can you tell me what happened out on the terrace? Why were you out there?” she asked.

Faramir sighed, poured himself another cordial, and parked himself back on the settee. Eowyn sat down beside him, still holding his hand. Taking a sip, he began to answer her questions. “I never told you what happened in Ithilien…between Frodo, Sam, and I” he started to explain.

~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~

The King walked to the door just a ways down from his when he met up with Gandalf. Aragorn still could not get over the change in his wizard friend, bright white hair, with robes that lit up a darkened hall. No wonder he kept it covered while traveling through Rohan. His mere presence would have alerted the enemy to their whereabouts. With staff in hand, and his infamous one hand on his hip, the wizard approached the new heir of Gondor to see if he had time to question the former Ring-bearer about what had transpired.

“Ah, Aragorn, were you able to get any information?” Gandalf questioned his friend.

“I was about to. I have been speaking with Eowyn. She has gone to see Faramir,” Aragorn replied. “Are you coming in?”

“Yes…” Gandalf said and opened the door to the room containing the hobbits.

The scene unfolded before their eyes. A rotund hobbit sleeping, with his head on his chest in the chair at the bedside. His feet propped up, a hand loosely holding onto his masters. They did not dare to wake Sam. He had hardly gotten any rest since they both woke in Ithilien. Sam had been there to the very end, guiding his master towards their doom, but Middle-Earth’s salvation. Even upon waking, he first inquired to Frodo’s health. Tip toeing around the sleeping Samwise, the wizard and man approached the big bed. They both observed Frodo’s eyes wide open, a blank stare, perspiration glistening, plastering his curly dark hair to his forehead. No movement could be seen except his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for air.

“Frodo? Frodo, my dear lad. Can you hear me?” the wizard asked placing a wrinkled hand upon the hobbits brow looking deeply into his eyes. Frodo responded to the voice as his gaze wondered to the face of the old man staring back at him. His brows furrowed, lips moving, mumbling something inaudible.

Aragorn retrieved some warmed water from the hearth, pouring its contents into a glazed pottery bowl, adding some crushed athelas leaves. Sam awoke at once as the essence of the leaves permeated the air, looking towards the bed at Frodo’s flushed face.

“What has happened?” he asked Aragorn, watching as the King slowly smoothed the compress over every inch of his master’s face, neck and chest.

“Sam, please fetch me the cup from the stand and fill it with some cool water,” Aragorn asked.

Getting up quickly, Sam gladly retrieved the drink, handing it to Aragorn, as he helped Frodo to sit up to take a sip.

Frodo felt the rim of the cold cup hit his lips and instinctively opened his mouth to receive any fluid that would quench his parched throat. Frodo’s tearing fevered eyes looked into Aragorn’s, grateful as he emptied the cup. “That’s it, Frodo,” Aragorn spoke soothingly as he gently laid the former Ring-bearer back onto the pillows, as Sam started to cover him with the warm coverlet tucking it under his chin. Aragorn stayed Sam’s hand. “I need to look him over, Sam. He is feverish,” the former Ranger explained, not wanting to alarm him, both knowing that Frodo was indeed ill.

Just then, the door opened letting in Merry and Pippin. Since they had been released from duty that night, it was hard for them to escape the never ending questions about Faramir and Frodo. Like Did the Captain really duel with Frodo for the Lady’s hand. Or comments going along the line of I heard that the Captain tortured the Ringbearer during the war. But of course, that was before he knew he was the Ringbearer.

Merry and Pippin still had their formal attire on. Each wearing the insignia of Rohan and Gondor respectively. Merry had managed to go to the kitchens before the washers had cleared all the dishes, bringing back meats, cheeses, bread, and some fruit. Pippin, on the other hand, brought a couple bottles of brew. He thought all his cousin needed was a nightcap to forget all about the events that took place a few hours before.

“If you two are going to be in here,” Gandalf started, “you will need to be quiet. And no drinking Peregrin Took. Your cousin does not feel up to being entertained this evening,” he finished saying as Aragorn gently took Frodo’s lolling head into his hands, feeling around the skull for any depressions.

“Pip, I told you Frodo was not feeling well this morning. I am sure Faramir did not really push him down the stairs. He told me his head started to hurt and his neck was sore,” Merry told Pippin as he placed his edibles upon one of the sidebars, stepping off the stool back onto the floor.

“What was that, Merry?” Aragorn asked only hearing part of the conversation.

“Frodo, he said he had a headache when he woke this morning,” Merry replied.

“What else did he say?” Aragorn prodded him.

“Um…He said his neck was sore like he had been stung. He asked me to look to see if there was maybe a stinger. I looked, but it was just red where he had been rubbin’ it,” Merry again answered the King’s question.

Aragorn turned Frodo onto his right side, looking at his neck. Sam caught up Frodo’s hand, all this time wondering why Frodo had not moved much or even cried out. He could tell Frodo was in pain as his face grimaced every time he had been moved.

“Strider, why in’t he talkin’? Or even trying to push you away? You know he hates being fussed over,” Sam observed looking down at Frodo as Aragorn felt around the soft tissue at the base of his neck.

Aragorn’s fingertips glided over a small lump at the base of Frodo’s neck. “Merry, is this where Frodo was talking about feeling a stinger?” he asked pointing at the spot where he found the lump.

Merry climbed up onto the bed, peering closely to where Aragorn’s finger pointed to. His blond curls shook as he acknowledged the spot he looked at that morning. “Yep. But it was smaller,” he added.

Sam felt something wet on his hand and peered into Frodo’s face, noticing small rivulets of tears sliding out of the corners of his eyes and down his cheek where they had splashed unto Sam’s hand. Sam himself started tearing as he saw the anguish look on his master’s pained face. “Strider, he’s hurtin’! Look, he’s crying. Please help him,” Sam begged, not knowing what was wrong with Frodo since he was not talking.

This time Gandalf looked into Frodo’s eyes, trying to get a mental picture of what was wrong with him. Long and hard he looked into his thoughts for answers. After a few minutes had passed, Gandalf righted himself from bending over, taking it slow as his back had become stiff. “Aragorn, are there two holes, bite marks, where that lump has formed?” Gandalf asked.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Shelob…” Sam breathed.

“Yes, Sam, Shelob,” Gandalf confirmed.

“Who is Shelob?” Aragorn asked, confusion written on his face. He had repositioned Frodo onto his back again, now noticing the reddened eyes. He also seen how flaccid his body was, like a rag doll.

“A giant spider,” Sam responded automatically. He had told this story so many times, but could not remember if he had told Strider.

“A spider? Giant? How giant could this spider be to hobbits?” Aragorn asked, knowing anything to hobbits, size of men were referred to as giants. He just could not fathom a spider as big as himself. It would have killed Frodo and Sam.

“Yes, sir!” Sam declared. “She was as big as this Treebeard Merry and Pippin keep talkin’ about. Maybe even bigger.”

Aragorn turned looking to Gandalf who nodded in agreement with Sam’s interpretation. “Shelob resided in the mountains above Cirith Morgul. There were rumors of a terrible creature. Anyone who went in, most likely were never heard from again. Only Orcs went in and out of there.”

“And Stinker…I mean Gollum,” Sam said his name as if it were a hot spice coating his tongue and needed water to rinse his mouth, “he done Mr. Frodo wrong. Mr. Frodo was nuttin’ but nice to him. He…” Sam took a breath tears welling in his eyes, “He put Mr. Frodo against me. Mr. Frodo told me to go home. Gollum led Mr. Frodo to that cave and left him there to die,” Sam stated looking towards his master, who seemed to hear every word, tears in his eyes. Aragorn sat on the side of the bed, Merry and Pippin had gathered into each other’s arms. They had not heard Sam tell this part of the story. They were all spellbound. Sam continued, “I found the Lembas on my way down those long dark stairs. I made up my mind to go back. To finally throttle that Gollum for making my master go against me. So, I found the cave. I heard the screams, the fighting. The stench was awful. I made my way through. There were skeletons everywhere. Cocoons hanging from the ceiling of the cave. I found the Lady’s Light that she had given Mr. Frodo. I knew he would not drop it on purpose, he had to be in trouble. I followed a tunnel that led to a big cobweb where I found Sting hanging in the middle of it.” Sam sighed.

At the pause, Merry asked, “But where did you finally find Frodo? What happened to him?”

Sam looked fondly at his master who seemed to be listening intently at the tale, his breathing becoming labored as he too remembered how Gollum punished him for his betrayal in Ithilien. “Shh…it will be okay. I won’t tell them the rest if you don’t want me too,” Sam whispered. Frodo slowly closed his eyes, then opened them back up feverishly gazing back at Sam. “I found him wrapped in a cocoon, with that spider, Shelob, standing over him, like he was a prize! I fought her off, stabbing her in the belly and she crawled away.”

“What happened then?” Pippin, wide eyed, now sitting on Merry’s lap.

Sam took another deep breath. This time he could not continue. Gandalf finished for him. “He thought Frodo was dead, Peregrin.”

“Oh, that is terrible,” Pippin murmured. “But, how did you all escape?”

“That is enough for now. I think we know why Frodo is not responding to us. That lump on the back of his neck may still contain some spider venom,” Gandalf concluded.

“But that doesn’t tell us why Faramir pushed him!” Sam exclaimed.

“I do not know everything, Sam, but we will get to the bottom of it. Just as soon as
Frodo…” Aragorn gazed towards Frodo, noticing him shaking violently. “Frodo? Frodo are you in pain?” Aragorn asked hurriedly, concern etched on his face.

Frodo had heard everything from the moment Aragorn and Gandalf walked into the room. He felt numb all over, not being able to lift any part of his body. The last time he had felt like this was when Shelob stung him. Starting at his toes, he could feel the warmth of the fluid being pumped into body. Each limb slowly losing sensation, then he’d seen the world spin by as she wrapped him in her sticky substance. He felt closed in, scared. He could not breathe. Breathe! he yelled at himself. Let Sam know you are ALIVE! he screamed. No one heard his silent cries and Sam left. Voices, Orcs. NO!

Then Gandalf came into view. Look at him, Frodo! Look. He will know you are here! he willed himself. Gandalf did look, he had heard Frodo’s cries. Aragorn was there, too. Giving him water. He was so thirsty, so hot. Where am I? How did I get here? The Ring! Where is it? Sam’s face came into view. He was safe again.

All of a sudden, he felt sick, his head throbbing, shaking violently. He could not control his body.

“Hold him up!” Aragorn ordered just in time as his stomach contents were expelled from his body. His head hanging limply over the King’s arm, Frodo fell into darkness as warm compresses patted his sweaty brow, cheeks and neck.

~~~~~~~~~************~~~~~~~~~~***********

“The Ringbearer is not well. It is rumored that the former Steward of Gondor's second born was the one who injured him,” the black cloaked guest said, swallowing the last of his brew.

“Is that so?” the bartender said.

“Might make things a lot easier.”

“We shall see.”

tbc

 Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.

Man of Quality: Chapter 4

        After Frodo had vomited, he received a bath complimentary of Aragorn and Sam. Since Frodo had not regained any of his mobility, he was not able to bat away hands as he was being disrobed then carried away to the steaming water. Sam had seen Frodo's eyebrows quirking together as his eyes pleaded with Sam to not leave him. Strong hands cradled him as he was lowered into the water. Closing his eyes, he relaxed immediately breathing in the familiar aroma of lavendar as he felt Sam's deft fingers massaging his scalp. Aragorn smiled, listening to the slow rhythmic breathing sounds realizing Frodo had fallen asleep. Gently lifting his charge out of the water, Aragorn supported Frodo as Sam wrapped his master in warmed fluffy towels. Frodo did not stir once as he was redressed in a soft nightshirt and tucked in under a couple layers of blankets.

        "He has had a busy night," Gandalf said gazing down at Frodo, sleeping peacefully. Probably for the first time in a long while he suspected. "There is nothing we can do right now to draw out the poison. It will have to run its course," placing his wrinkled hand upon the former Ring-bearer's brow, "I think I shall go to my chambers and I will have my roommates accompany me," Gandalf said looking at Merry and Pippin. He knew there was no forcing Sam to leave Frodo's side. "Merry, Pippin, come along lads. Frodo will need all the rest he can get. Call if you should need anything," Gandalf said lastly addressing Aragorn.

        Aragorn nodded escorting Gandalf to the door. "I hope that you will talk to Faramir soon. I am sure this is all a misunderstanding. I have known Faramir all his life. Unlike Boromir who tried to take the Ring, Faramir did not," Gandalf hung onto the last words to make sure they hit home. Aragorn had not told anyone what Boromir confessed as he lay dying in his arms. He wanted him to die with dignity. "Yes, I know, as well as Faramir. Sam had used this information to try and persuade Faramir from taking Frodo to the Steward."

        "This information is new to me. What made him change his mind?" Aragorn asked before opening the door.

        "You should ask him yourself," he answered as he exited the room followed by Merry and Pippin.

        The room had gone quiet as Faramir had finished spinning his tale to Eowyn. She took in every word as he described what happened from the moment he met Frodo and Sam to the breathtaking event that led him to the decision to let them go.

        "I am sure if you explain to the King, that he himself could not come to the conclusion that you had anything to do with harming Frodo," Eowyn speculated looking her fiance in the eyes.

        At that moment in time, Faramir could not have guessed how lucky he was to wed this lovely creature sitting beside him. In one swift movement, Faramir gently cupped Eowyn's chin on either side, bringing her to him, kissing her ever so lightly and lovingly.

        Eowyn could not breathe as heat radiated between her and Faramir. All too soon the sensous kiss was over leaving Eowyn trembling. Faramir observed his bride shivering and held her for just a moment before they were interrupted by the guard clearing his throat. Reluctantly breaking away from their embrace, Faramir stood looking at the guard to tell him the reason for the intrusion.

        "Sorry to disturb you my Lord. I have the information that you requested," the guard of the citadel said, bowing before Faramir and Lady Eowyn.

        Taking the hint, Faramir had asked Eowyn to excuse him for a moment. She nodded. Faramir and the guard left the room, entering a side door off to the right. After a few moments, Faramir returned thanking the guard as he left the room.

        "What was that all about?" Eowyn asked, curiosity rising.

        "I have been working on a project. Nothing to concern yourself with," he added as he reached for her hand, raising her to her feet. "I will ask you take leave from me now. I am sure the King will be in here when he finishes with Frodo. I want to be ready when he interrogates me."

        "I will go check on Frodo and ask King Aragorn if he has found out anything," she offered finding it offensive that he asked her to leave at all. But she understood. If she had found herself in his place, she would have done the same.

        "Good night, Eowyn," Faramir blessed his future wife, kissing her hand before letting her out his chamber.

        When Eowyn exited the Faramir's chamber, she found the guard gone and the hall sconces unlit, which she did not think of any importance at the time until it was too late. She found herself down two corridors, almost to the Ring-bearer's room before she had been taken by surprise. A black gloved hand covered her mouth, dragging her into a darkened room as her wrists had been bound behind her. As the hand uncovered her mouth, not a scream could escape before she had been gagged. She could not see her attackers as their faces were covered with chain mail. Only their eyes were revealed. Forced to sit on her backside, the leader of the attackers was whispering to one of his colleagues.

        "What are we to do now?" he hissed not making eye contact with Eowyn, but looking passed her.

        "This will be better. He will definitely do as we command if he knows we have the upper hand," responded the colleague.

        Eowyn did not show fear. She faced greater evils than this. She had had a hand in destroying the Witch-King. She had wielded her sword with the best of them, but, she had to admit not with her hands bound. She kept an eye on all four men. They were in front of her. She moved her hands around on the stone floor hoping to find some kind of shard to release her from her bonds. As her hands roamed, she felt something soft and stringy. It was getting bulkier. She scooted ever so slightly to get a better grip on the material she had found. In a moment, she had a handful and gave a quick jerk. What she had heard, was not what she expected. In fact she did expect whatever she had just pulled on make a sound. With her eyes adjusting to the low light, Eowyn looked down on her right. Her eyes grew big as she recognized the person that the hair belonged to she had just pulled upon. There laying in a small pool of blood was King Aragorn's wife, Arwen Undomiel Evenstar.

tbc.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about what could have been.

Man of Quality

Chapter 5

        King Aragorn took Gandalf's advice to finally speak with Faramir, leaving Sam to tend to Frodo as he slept. Aragorn had always wondered if he made the right decision to let Faramir keep his appointment as Steward of Gondor. As he brought the young brother of Boromir back from the brink of death, he perceived his soul as caring. Now, this incident with Frodo. There had to be some misunderstanding. The King never pushed the issue as to what took place in Ithilien, as to what led Faramir to bring the Ringbearer so close to Minas Tirith, then letting Sam and Frodo go. It was what Gandalf said that disturbed him the most. The Wizard knew of Boromir's failure, but also knew that Aragorn let him die with dignity. He never spoke of it, not even to Legolas.

        Of course Strider knew himself the very danger that Frodo would be in if left on his own with Boromir. That is why he took it upon himself to keep Frodo and Sam at his side especially after Gandalf fell in Moria, never losing sight of either one.

        He came upon Faramir's room, but the absence of the guard put him on edge. Even though Faramir was on house arrest, there should have been a guard at the door. He also noticed that certain sconces were not lit. Particularly, the ones down this hallway, making useless if shadows were to creep upon him.

        Taking a deep breath, Strider placed his right hand on Anduril's hilt, quietly sliding it out of it's sheath while his left slowly turned the handle to Faramir's room. As soon as he heard the telltale click that the latch had disengaged, Aragorn through open the door, storming into the room ready for a battle as a beam of light glinted off an opponents sword, metals clashing.

        After an excellent parry his swordsmaster would have been proud of, the attacker had managed to rid his opponent of his sword, knocking it out of loose hands, the sound of metal sliding across the stone floor, finally coming to a rest by the fireplace.

        "Now, who are..." Faramir asked, his sword at the intruder's throat, raising it's head to look into the intruder's eyes before killing him. Faramir looked into those steel gray's peering back at him and quickly laid his sword down bowing on one knee the moment he had realized it was the King's face. 'Oh, this does not bode well' he said to himself keeping his head down.

        Aragorn rose to his feet praying quietly to Elbereth that it was a friend not foe that had just disarmed him. He had to admit that Faramir was good. Just as good as his brother as memories came flooding back when he fought by Aragorn's side in Moria and when Boromir died giving his life to save "the little ones".

        Taking a deep breath, not letting Faramir see how shaken he actually was, he placed a hand on Faramir's shoulder and spoke,"Please, rise. You did not offend me. You did well to protect yourself."

        Faramir looked up into his King's face, pondering the praise, then shook it off as he rose to meet him at eye level. "Why were you armed, if I may ask?"

        "The guard is not at his post, and it is very dark down this passageway. I thought that there might have been trouble in here," Aragorn explained crossing over to the fireplace to retrieve Anduril from the floor. After carefully inspecting the blade for any imperfections and found none, the King resheathed his sword.

        "I have heard no sound at my door, My Lord. As for the guard, I sent him on to get dinner. He had missed it," Faramir lied as he knew the said guard was the same that had delivered him a message just before Eowyn left.

        "'I' did not give him permission to leave his post. Do you truly wish to be in the dungeons, Captain Faramir?" Aragorn schooled his anger, his eyes conveying to the young Captain that he wanted to believe him, but his actions were speaking louder than words.

        "Sorry, my Lord," Faramir apologized,"but he had not eaten yet. I am not about to leave my own home. I will do nothing to make you throw me into the dungeons. You have my word," he added as he walked to the divan and sat by the fire. His own sword had also be re-sheathed and now hung loosely about his side.

        Silence hung thick between the two men as the minute that ticked by seemed an age. They were both at a loss for words. Since his arrival, Lord Aragorn had barely spoken more than a couple of paragraphs to the former Steward. His time had been occupied to the well being of the hobbits, as well as seeing the mighty stone city rebuilt. Only by word of mouth that the King was relieved that Eowyn had found her true love with Faramir. She had been spending most of her free time with him. Lord Aragorn found himself sitting on the divan opposite of Faramir, just moments before that Eowyn had occupied.

        "How is Frodo faring?" Faramir asked, wanting to be the first to break the ice. Frodo was common ground. The men's paths had crossed Frodo's and his servant, Sam. It was under different circumstances that the Ring had become known to them.

        With hesitantcy in his voice he answered with his own question,"That is why I have come this eve. I wanted your account as to what happened on that balcony between you two. May I warn you, Frodo is very dear to my heart. Sam has not told me what had transpired in Ithilien. He respects Frodo's wishes to not speak of it. Ever. So," Aragorn continued his eyes capturing Faramir's gaze,"I am asking you."

        Faramir knew it was inevitable to keep his near treachery a secret no longer. He had come clean with Eowyn, but now, he had to relive his near fatal lapse of control to his King. He had to remember that this was not his father. That Lord Aragorn would surely have not already formed an opinion of him. Unlike his father that loathed the ground he walked upon.

        Clearing his throat he began to weave his tale from his encounter with the Hobbits to the ultimate end when he had made his decision to let Frodo and Sam go. "When the Nazgul was hovering above Frodo, him not realizing what he was doing, my mind went back to the cave where I had envisioned the Ringbearer becoming a hideous creature like Gollum. What a terrible hold it must have had on Gollum for him to pursue the Ring itself for the last sixty years after having it for so long, but what an incredible creature like Frodo to resist such power. I did not want for the Ringbearer to endure that. His kind a gentle soul would not survive. It was then that I realize our only hope was this Hobbit from the Shire. I fired my weapon at the Nazgul as Sam leapt, bringing Frodo down.

        The King sat listening intently to every incredible word. 'So, the Ringbearer was starting to falter and the roles reversed as Sam became a steady rock for Frodo' Aragorn thought to himself. The Ring was taking hold of Boromir, true, but it had no other choice but to whisper falsehoods to the Ringbearer when there was no one else around to listen. It was a miracle that Frodo resisted as long as he did. He remembered all to well the time when the Ring tried to call out to him. Before he had let Frodo go off by himself to continue the journey, and second when Sauron himself tried to will him to the Dark Lord's side.

        "I believe you, Captain, but what about the balcony. What happened then? I had noticed Frodo avoiding you since his awakening in Ithilien. And the day of my coronation," he pressed.

        "I just wanted to apologize to the...Frodo that I was wrong. We had little conversation before I showed him the secret passage out of Osgilith. When he was determined to go to Cirith Ungol, unbeknownst to what danger awaited him, all I could do was for him to be wary of Gollum. That he was up to no good," Faramir explained then chuckled covering his mouth with his hand.

        "What is so funny?" Aragorn said finding no humor of Frodo's impending demise.

        "No, sorry, my Lord. It is just that Frodo thought I wanted to dual with him over Eowyn. Eowyn explained to me that the Ringbearer kept winking at her, and oh, he thought I was defending her honor. Believe me, I am not the jealous type. When he had turned around on the stone step, he lost his footing. I tried grabbing his cloak to prevent him falling. That must have been when Master Gamgee had seen me and presumed I had pushed his master," Faramir declared recalling the events that led to the tragic fall. "I had asked him if he needed an escort to his room. He did not look well. He kept flinching as if he had a headache. He denied that anything was wrong," Faramir said, then lifted his head as he heard a snickering coming from the divan that held the King.

        Now Aragorn had to explain,"He never says anything is wrong, even when he was buried under six feet of snow, or when the creature from the lake shook him like a ragdoll, or even when the Troll stabbed him. Of course he was wearing his Mithril shirt, but..." the former Ranger said as he reminisced. "He will drive poor Sam into an early grave."

        They both laughed, knowing that the stubborn streak that runs in the Baggins line had run the poor Gardner ragged since their journey started.

        Something had dawned on Faramir as to why the late visit by his King. "Did Lady Eowyn visit with Frodo this eve, before you came here?" he asked.

        "No. Something that Gandalf said made me come down here instead of on the morrow. I have not seen the Lady Eowyn. I had sent her off to see you before I tended the Ringbearer," Aragorn said, worry creeping into his very soul.

        "I did speak with her, but she was most adament about seeing Frodo and you, if I may add. When she puts her mind to it, there is no stopping her," the former Steward confirmed as he wiped sweaty palms against his leggings. He too was becoming anxious about his bride to be not being where she said she would.

        Before the conversation could continue, there was a rapping at the door, then a thunderous pounding, as if something had been thrown against it.

        With reflexes as quick as fox, Aragorn and Faramir stood side by side with swords drawn, ready to face any enemies should they enter. Aragorn quietly stepped to his left, approaching the door, as Faramir stepped off to his right, following his King's lead.

        Sweat beaded off the Captain's brow, letting it sting his left eye for if he was to let down his guard now, it would be the moment an enemy needed to disarm his opponent as it was distracted. Looking towards Aragorn, Faramir could see a line of perspiration gleaming off his cheeks. Aragorn was dousing candles as he walked passed them, making it difficult for an intruder to spot its target. Faramir did the same with the candleabras that were along his side of the room.

        Finally standing at one side of the doorjam, the King signaled to the Captain that he was going to open the door. Faramir nodded.

        In one fell swoop, Aragorn grabbed the latch that released the door, swinging it fully opened. What the King beheld in his sight made Aragorn's stomach lurch. There, pinned to the door by his sword through the chest, was the missing guard who was supposed to be going to fetch his dinner. The poor guard of the Citadel had been gagged, with his chainmail hung about his face used as a blindfold. 'At least he did not see it coming' Aragorn said to himself, checking for any signs of life, knowing it was useless. As his hand traveled down the guard's front to the sword that held him in place, a parchment had been attached to his chest before the sword skewered its flesh. Ripping the parchment off, all that he could think of why would anyone need to kill more. Did not anyone learn from the battle that life was precious. What was the reason for such an action?

        The King read the parchment, his hands trembling at what was written. Faramir witnessed the King's hands turning white gripping onto the parchment with force. The King seemed frozen. Faramir approached the still figure, gently unprying clenched fingers from the parchment. At last, the King's hands were separated from the paper as his eyes stared off into space. Faramir took it upon himself to read what had upset his Lord so.

        The King will release our warriors from the

        South. --If you would like to see your Queen again and the Steward's Lady,

        then you will follow our demands. If not, the blood that will be shed

        will be theirs.

        After reading, Faramir too clenched the parchment and heard a voice speak to him from behind. It was Aragorn. He had come out of his tranch.

        "They will regret the day they crossed my path," the King swore as he headed out into the main hallway.

        "My Lord," Faramir called out, but getting no response. Then he tried something else, "Strider!" That got his attention as he witnessed Aragorn turn on his heel heading back to Faramir.

        "Please, let me help. Do not forget, they have Eowyn!"

        "And Frodo," a small voice said laying in the darkness.

        Aragorn and Faramir spun around to witness a curly headed halfling, dressed in the Gondor livery, crawling from the darkness along the stone floor. He was holding his arm across his shoulder as blood seeped between his fingers.

tbc...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.

Man of Quality: Chapter 6

        "Pippin!" Faramir cried as he dropped to his knees holding the halfling to his breast. Aragorn immediately followed crouched on the other side of the small Guard of the Citadel, checking where the blood was coming from.

        "Leave it. It is just a scratch, Strider," Pippin breathed heavily, looking into his Lord's eyes. "Worry about Frodo. Men barged into your chambers expecting to find you there. I...I was hiding in the shadows," Frodo's youngest cousin conitnued, clutching at Strider's tunic with his good arm, "Someone heard me, but did not see me. They sliced through the air with their sword. They have Arwen and...and Eowyn!"

        "We know," Faramir said as he schooled his anger in front of one of the Perinnath, brushing back blond curls from Pippin's forehead.

        "Be still, Pippin," Aragorn said as he tore through the already separated material to get at the wound. Aragorn then ripped the hobbit's shirttail needing something to wipe the oozing blood from around the wounded arm. Pippin flinched at the slight pressure.

        "Do not look, Pippin," Faramir advised to his friend, holding the hobbits head, keeping his eyes focused on him. He spotted a tear falling down the small cheek, and wiped it gently away with his thumb.

        "Pippin," Aragorn spoke softly as he spied Faramir's tender caress. How could he ever doubt that this man, brother to Boromir, could ever bring harm to Frodo? "Gandalf would be very proud of you," the King continued, splitting another strip of cloth from Pippin's shirt,"You definitely have a flesh wound, more than a scratch. I am going to bind the wound until we can get you to the healing houses to have it tended to."

        Pippin twisted in Faramir's arms,"No! I will not go. My duty is to stand beside you. Those men were after you. They have already taken prisoner's! I will not stand by...I just will not...I...," he paused as Aragorn lifted a finger to lips, hushing him.

        Faramir looked into Aragorn's face. Even in this dire situation, he could tell that those steel blues were dancing as the King looked upon his friend. "Such devotion," Faramir said aloud, smiling to himself. Were it not for this certain Shireling, Faramir would not have come to know such an innocent, but brave, race of people.

        "Yes. Especially this little one," Strider answered the Captain. "Now," Strider's attention on the little one,"you want to help?" he questioned with a nod from his charge as he still had his fingers to Pippin's lips. "Then tell me how many there were and who..." he sighed, "who were their prisoners?"

        Inhaling slowly, Pippin began to tell what he had witnessed.

        Continuing his vigil at Frodo's side, Sam leapt up from his cushioned chair when he heard commotion coming from Strider's room. Quietly as a hobbit from the Shire could, Sam padded across the stone in-laid floor, traversing soft splashes of color every couple of feet until he found himself pressed against the wall listening to the sounds on the other side.

        "Where is HE!" the muffled voice yelled as his efforts to locate the King was proving ill.

        "No one is in here. The room is totally empty!" one of the other masked men answered his leader.

        The leader's eyes narrowed as he looked around the lit chambers. He walked outside the room and immediately returned dragging in a bound and gagged woman, shielding his body with hers, a long blade pressing at her throat.

        "I have got your lovely wife, King Elessar. I will kill her if you do not show yourself!" the masked man warned.

        In the next room, Sam's mouth fell open, suppressing a gasp as he backed away from the wall. His eyes darted about the room Frodo and he occupied for anything to use as a weapon. Turning to make his way back to his master, Sam tripped on one of the many rugs that decorated the chamber, landing sideways unable to stop the breaking of the vase as it hit the stone floor.

        Sam picked himself up off the floor, racing towards Frodo not caring to be quiet. His hobbit sense told him that the people in the next room heard that crash, and he had no time to waste before someone had discovered them.

        "Mr. Frodo?" Sam spoke, as he brushed his calloused hand across his master's forehead. Getting no response, the gardener spoke again,"Mr..." Sam was interrupted as the door was knocked opened and strong arms encircled his waist, flinging the stout hobbit to one side. It was like slow motion with the last word coming out of his mouth,"FRODO!"

        "Toulouse! I found one of them halflings!" the masked man yelled through his mask, peering out the door.

        Sam peered at the guard wearily as he got on all fours, cupping one of the vase shards that had splintered into a million pieces into his hand before climbing to his feet. He ran towards his master, again running into interference as a sword stopped him short of his goal.

        A moment later, a tall man clad in black, emerged from the hallway into the occupied chamber, peering down at the hobbit held at bay with his associates sword. As he approached further into the room, that was when he beheld the sight of another hobbit in the bed.

        "Leave him alone," Sam warned, his cupped hand fondling the shard.

        "What is his problem, halfling?" Toulouse demanded, finding no apparent reason this other hobbit was abed.

        "He has a fever. He can't be moved. By order of the..." Sam was cut off.

        "King. King Elessar. Our salvation?" sarcasm dripping in every word. "Or was it by this Perinnath?" Toulouse questioned, peeling the coverlet from the inert form, Frodo's arms slapping heavily as they hit the mattress.

        Frodo moaned as the sensation of pins and needles vibrated through every muscle in his arms. Sensing someone above him, the gentle hobbit furrowed his eyebrows together.

        Toulouse, noticing the halfling grimace, found the newly bandaged hand and squeezed it hard, a tinge of red staining the wrapping.

        Frodo's eyes flew open to the new sensation of pain, spying the man standing over him. The missing finger was healing nicely, he remembered Aragorn saying the previous day. Now, he feared, it would need tending to again. He actually did not feel pain, but pressure.

        "So, this is our mighty saviour," Toulouse scowled bending close to the Ring-bearer peering at the mal-nourished body beholding his sight. "An invalid?"

        Frodo's breathing became rapid, not with fear for himself, but fear of what may have happended to Sam. He could not see his friend, not having control over his limbs to be able to turn his head. Then, as if Sam heard his silent plea, a familiar voice filled the air.

        "I told ye, he is sick. Cover 'im back up," the gardener told the intruder.

        The man glared back at Sam. "Alphus!" he called, throwing the quilt at the stout hobbit.

        "Yes sir!" the man with the sword at Sam's abdomen answered.

        "Have this one carry the savior to the next room and put them with the others. No food, no water. And if he fails, kill the invalid. He won't make it without water anyway," he commanded watching the halfling's face change from anger to concern as the intruder exited the room.

        "Well," the one called Alphus said,"you heard him, carry the invalid," smirking to himself as he doubted the stout hobbit could do such a task.

        Sam quickly pocketed the shard he had been holding onto, rushing to Frodo's side. Confusion was written all over his master's face as the gardener prepared the gentle hobbit to be carried. "Now, I know you may not remember it, Mr. Frodo, but I tarried up that mountain with you on my back. I think I can make it to the next room. Hold on," he said cupping Frodo's face with his hands, a gesture of comfort. He knew that Frodo had heard the last statement from the terrorist. The Shireling then hefted the lightweight gentle hobbit into a sitting position, then in one quick movement, had Frodo draped across his shoulders. Getting his balance, he walked out the door being followed by the man with it's sword at his back. That was when he heard a whisper coming from the dark. It was Master Peregrin. He recognize that voice or whisper anywhere. Being on the journey honed Sam's hearing to be able to pick up the different pitches in his comrades voices. Even at a whisper, which they had to do a lot of.

        "What was that?" another masked man asked as he vacated the King's chambers with one of the Citadel Guards blindfolded, held prisoner.

        "I don't hear anything," Alphus said, slashing at the dark. "Where are you going with him?" he inquired.

        "Toulouse wants us to leave a personalized message with the Captain," the other man said before Sam was ushered into the room, once again at the encouragement of a sword at his back.

        Pippin had told Aragorn and Faramir everything that had transpired as he sat crouched in the dark for over an hour. He then followed the men, keeping to the shadows. "I am sorry, Aragorn, for the guard. I had never met him before," Pippin said sadly, his head bent down hiding the tears springing forth from his eyes.

        "I am sorry. I, too, did not know his name. He will have an honorable burial," Aragorn said solemnly.

        "I knew him. He was my confidant," Faramir stated. "He was also working with me to obtain information about these renegades," the Captain revealed.

        The King looked at the Captain accusingly,"You knew this was going to happen?"

        "My Lord, I was imprisoned in my own chambers. You would not listen to me after just what happened. The guard was relaying messages to me since my arrest. We had no idea that they were to hit tonight. After what had happened this evening, they probably decided to take advantage of the situation," Faramir defended himself.

        The Ranger clenched his hands so tightly, that his knuckles were turning white. Pippin saw this from his viewpoint. He quickly chimed in,"Strider...My Lord. Faramir would not hurt Frodo. You know this. I, for one, cannot believe you would even think it. Merry agrees with me. It was all a misunderstanding. Now, we cannot undo what has happened. Frodo will recover, but the Queen will not. She was not standing on her own accord. She had to be carried. Now," he continued, shakily getting to his feet,"we need an army to get in there and rescue her and..."

        "Lady Eowyn," a new voice echoed, finishing his sentence. Another blond curly haired hobbit emerged from the shadow, followed by Legolas and a very angry looking dwarf.

        "Merry!" Pippin cried, collapsing into his cousin's arms as the honoray Rohirrim reached his injured kinsman.

        "I came looking for you when you did not come back. I know your continous talking would have put Sam on edge and sent you packing, but..." Merry was distracted by the bandage on his cousin's arm. "What is this? Strider, what have you done to him? Will he be all right?" the hobbit kept questioning, not letting Aragorn get a word in edgewise.

        "It is nothing, Merry. Aragorn bandaged my arm temporarily, until we rescue our friends."

        "Temporarily? Pip, you're bleeding. You need tended to now. What in the world do you mean treating your guards this way?"

        King Elessar knew that Merry was only concerned for his cousin's well being, but he went a little too far, accusing him of not advising Pippin to get proper medical attention. Pippin took care of that.

        "Merry, I told him to bandage it until we rescued our friends. Please, understand?" he questioned, laying his good hand on his kinsman shoulder.

        "Together again?" the blond haired Elf said as he approached the group, waiting until the bickering subsided.

        "It seems so," Estel said, then turning to Faramir he said,"Well, Captain, we need men. Are you prepared to follow my lead?"

        "Already ahead of you, my lord," Faramir said as he disappeared into his chambers, a flickering of light dancing on his walls. Within moments he was back.

        "Well?" King Elessar asked. He did not wait for an answer. A squadron of thirty men dressed in armor could be heard clanking as they ran to the Captain's chambers. Once there, they stopped remaining at attention.

        "Signal?" the King asked, smiling at the Captain of the Guard.

        "Signal," he replied flatly. "Reporting for duty, my lord?"

        With a nod, the King reinstated Faramir to duty and explained to the men what had taken place up until the guards had arrived. "Remember, the renegades have several prisoner's, including the Queen, Lady Eowyn and the Ring-bearer. They believe they have the upper hand, a bargaining chip. I will not succumb to threats."

tbc

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Man of Quality

Chapter 7

"Get in there and sit down!" Alphus said pushing Sam hard in the back, Frodo still upon his shoulders.

Sam regained his balance, pausing to get a better grip on his master's arms, but another push upon his backside sent him flying across the room, directly into a wall, landing in Lady Eowyn's lap.

Frodo's body rolled off of Sam's back landing in a heap. The pins and needles feeling came back, much more intense this time. He winced, his face against the cold flooring. He still did not have control of his muscles, only his eyes as they opened wide, staring into the pale face of Arwen Undomiel. She laid with eyes closed, dark lashes upon her face. He noticed that there was a line of dried blood across her forehead. Trailing it with his eyes, he determined it had started at her temple, but was unsure since he could not see the opposite side of the Queen's head. The Ring-bearer felt a pit in his stomach at the thought of someone hurting this lovely gentle being. He knew that when Aragorn found them, he would deal with the perpetrator. Frodo would not judge Aragorn unjustly if he sentenced death upon the individual that had done this to his wife. Tears sprang forth to his eyes as he could do nothing to help the Elf as she had once helped him. Something on the edge of his vision caught his attention. It was a flicker of light. Looking in the direction of the light, Frodo glimpsed a pendant hanging from Arwen's neck, from which a pulsating radiance could be seen. He studied this for a moment to be sure, but he had an idea that this pendant was tied with her fea. Her life force. He figured as long as it continued to palpitate, Lord Elrond's daughter was still alive.

"Get up halfling!" Alphus yelled at the figure lying on the floor. When there was no response the terrorist yelled again. "I said...GET UP!" kicking the immobile figure in the back, pushing him over onto his stomach.

Eowyn's eyes widened, a gasp muffled behind the cloth gagging her. If it was not for the weight still in her lap she would have been on her feet in seconds, bonds or nor bonds.

"Oomph," pins, needles, and slight pain. That sound. Did I make that sound? Frodo asked himself. Hope surged through him as the thought of being able to feel again, or just to even talk. Kick me again. I need to know, Frodo non verbally pleaded as he heard the thunderous voice above him again.

Sam was still a bit dazed after his soft landing. He knew he had hit the Lady, but there was no time to control his fall. He felt awkward about where to place his hands to push himself up, all he saw was various folds of skirt crumpled on the floor. The minute his sensitive ears caught the slight sound of Frodo's pained cry, he forgot all manners and hoped his aim was true hitting ground and not that of Lady Eowyn.

"Are you deaf? Or just stupid!" Alphus taunted. He brought back his foot again, ready for another strike.

"No!," the stout hobbit yelled out, putting himself in front of the foot aiming for Frodo, bracing for impact.

Alphus stopped his foot in mid air, barely inches from the servant's back.

"I told ya he's ill. I'll take care of him. Your boss said so," Sam interrupted, turning his master's body over, tears threatening to spill over onto dry cheeks. "Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered gently cradling his master's head in his lap.

"URR," the terrorist growled bringing his foot back to solid ground, an angry stare directed at Sam,'s back, "see that you do!" he said and walked off toward the front of the chambers, gathering with the other three men.

Sam did not look at the Man the whole time. He did not want to give him the satisfaction to see that he had brought the gardener to tears. Before opening his eyes, there was a slight pressure to the hand that was holding his master's. Surprised, Sam looked into Frodo's face whispering,"did you do that?"

Frodo held his gardener's gaze, then lowered his in the direction of his hand, Sam's eyes following. His face tight with concentration, the Ring-bearer tried to command his muscles to obey him. If you were not looking for it, then those who were not expecting it would not have seen the slightest twitch of long fingers within the hand that held them. Frodo quickly looked back up at his friend, sweat already breaking out on his brow from the effort.

Sam was overjoyed that his master's strength was returning, only if it was as weak as a baby's grasp. It was still a start. He smiled at Frodo, gathering the limp body in his arms, carrying him to sit between Lady Eowyn and Queen Arwen. He had managed to hang onto the blanket that the Ruffian had tossed to him earlier, and used that to cover Frodo's nightshirt clad body.

After being settled between Sam's legs, Frodo's arm accidentally fell to his side, his hand touching Arwen's head. A sudden jolt traveled up the Ring-bearer's arm, through his body. A memory was brought forward as he remembered this feeling not so long ago when his life hung in the balance of the white light and the dark world of the Nazgul. He had felt Lord Elrond's daughter's life force, enveloping him. That selfless act gave the Ring-bearer the much time needed until the Lord of Imladris could retrieve the sliver of the broken Morgul blade inching its way toward Frodo's heart. The gentle hobbit's head lolled to one side, his eyes on the pendant around the creamy white neck as its radiant light brightened. He realized then that their lives were forever intertwined and his accidental touch was transferring the light within him to her. A warmth filled his heart knowing that he was repaying her act of selflessness in her time of need. King Elessar's wife would live. Gazing at the brilliant stone, Frodo's eyes became heavy, sleep claiming him.

Sam felt overly warm, thinking Frodo was fevered again as the heat seemed to be coming from the sleeping form in his lap. He placed a callused hand to the Ring-bearer's forehead, the skin cool to his touch. When he was about to shift his master's body, he saw a light illuminate Frodo's face. This time, however, it seemed much brighter, almost blinding to his eyes. Trailing the length of his master's arm resting upon Arwen's head, he saw the pendant hanging about the Elf's neck glowing. He always believed Elves were magic, and remembering Frodo's genealogical line, his hobbit sense told him not to break the connection between these two races of people.

Crawling into position, just beyond a full view of the doors to the Kings' chambers, Aragorn stopped, feeling about his neck for the pendant Arwen had given him back in Rivendell. She had declared her mortality then, binding her life to his, gifting him with the Evenstar.

"What is wrong, my friend?" Legolas asked feeling the uneasiness rising from the King.

"It is Arwen. I do not know how to explain it," he said fingering the pendant. "I have grown used to it, the humming or song it weaves. This morning, it had gone quiet. I am ashamed to admit that when I had heard those men took her prisoner, I did not notice until then. Now, it is singing with more voice than I have ever noticed before. As if someone else's voice combined with hers," he whispered, covering it with his hand as if trying to muffle its volume.

Legolas, huddled with Aragorn on the floor, closed his eyes to listen to the song emanating from the Ranger's neck. Cocking his head to one side, listening intently, he heard two strong feas, but found a third smaller voice humming. He recognized the first two, but the third seemed to be hiding behind Arwen. He smiled with his eyes still closed, "Frodo's light has combined with hers," he said, keeping the third to himself. The Queen would let her husband know soon enough that she was with child. To tell him now would jeopardize their mission.

Stunned at his inept perception he asked, "How do you know it is Frodo?"

"Have not your eyes seen the light that surrounds the Ring-bearer? He had it before the quest when I had first met him. It was there, but not bright. Since his return, it has grown ever strong," Legolas answered appalled that the King of Kings, the hands of a healer had not stopped to listen to Frodo's song.

Shaking his head he could not come up with one excuse. There were no excuses when it came to the well being of his friends or family. He had simply not had the time. "I have been so busy, meeting with Ambassadors. Trying to put Minas Tirith back together. I did not even know that these Renegades existed, but Captain Faramir did," he said, bowing his head in shame. When he finally looked into the Elf's eyes, his steel gray's were hazed over with wetness. "I shall not forgive myself if anything should happen to them."

"I would guess you would fear being drowned at the Ford by Lord Elrond, while Gandalf turned you into a frog before tossing you into the raging waters," Legolas smiled jokingly.

Aragorn could not suppress a smile. "Now, that would be a sight. Green is not my best color."

At that moment, a curly golden head popped around a corner, crawling toward the Elf and Man. "What is so funny?" Pippin said as he came in at the end of the conversation.

"Gandalf and frogs," Legolas said.

"Oh. Who's in trouble now?" Frodo's youngest cousin said, sitting on his bottom rubbing his wounded arm.

"Never mind that, Pippin, is everything set?" King Elessar asked.

"Yes, Captain Faramir is up on the next level proceeding with the plan," he informed Aragorn.

Noticing how the honorary Guard cradled his arm, he slid over Legolas to sit beside Pippin. "How is the arm? Any pain?"

Wincing at having the arm moved, he fibbed to the King,"Not overly much," a forced grin on his pained face.

"Merry will skin me alive and Frodo, too, if they find out I did not properly take care of you. You are just as stubborn as..."

"Shh, someone's opening the door!" one the Citadel Guards came up, whispering to the King. The four individuals flattened themselves against the wall, hiding in the shadows.

Legolas readied his bow, string taught as his arrow aimed for the slightest of targets. Aragorn pulled his throwing knife. His sword stayed in its sheath for the time being.

The large wooden door opened a crack, a voice whispered as the Elf caught the words,"I thought I heard some voices, Alphus," one of the dark clad men said, peering out into the hallway. "Do you think the King had gotten the message about now? I wonder what his face looks like, knowing we have his Lady in here," the man sneered.

"I don't care what it looks like, just as long we get the ransom and our leader back," Alphus barked out, opening the door just a little bit wider, exposing the prisoner's lined against the wall.

Pippin had been peering over Legolas' shoulder. When the prisoner's came in view, he gasped, "Frodo!" he exclaimed then gasped as his eyes roved down to the figure lying on the ground,"Queen Arwen, she's hurt!"

King Elessar, his emotions taking over for a second, jumped at the honorary Guard's observation, bumping into Pippin. The halfling hissed, his body knocking into the Elf, unable to stop the domino effect. The arrow flew prematurely, whisking toward the intended target.

Swoosh. The man fell backward into Alphus' arms, clutching at his throat, blood pouring from the deadly wound. Rage filled the masked eyes as the door slammed. "The King will pay for this!" Alphus declared, his words loud enough to penetrate the barrier between the Renegades and the four crouched figures in the hall.

Strider's eyes fell, realizing he may have just caused the untimely death of one of his friends, or worse his wife.

Legolas, eying the King's distress, caught hold of the Guard crouched with them. "Go tell Captain Faramir what happened. To be ready! Hurry" he whispered sternly. The guard left without questioning the order from an Elf. Legolas placed a firm hand on the King's shoulder, as Pippin sat against the wall stunned. "It was not your fault, little one."

"Calm down," Toulouse said to the distraught Alphus, looking upon the figure in his arms, dead from the Elf's arrow.

"He will pay for killing my brother," the anger high in Alphus voice as he pulled the mask from the fallen man's face exposing wide eyes. Taking steady hands, he closed the brown eyes staring up at him. The face relaxed like he was sleeping, no lines or wrinkles marred the young looks. "He had not fought in the war. He wanted to come, to do something important. For our cause. Now, he will sit with the followers of Sauron, somewhere where the fiery mountain crashed, waiting to be rekindled one day," dark eyes teared, the black mask soaking in the wetness. Carrying the lifeless body to the fireplace, he laid his brother with ease. He then got up to look for something to cover the body. To give it respect.

Sam watched with wide eyes at what had happened, hoping beyond hope that the rescue would ensue soon. He nudged Lady Eowyn awake,who had fallen asleep, her body slumped. After a few moments when he did not see Aragorn rush through the doors with his mighty Anduril raised to run through the Ruffians, his heart sank. Where were they?

When Alphus got up, he spied the stout hobbit looking anxiously toward the wooden door. This angered him more for Sam to think anyone was coming to get them. He approached the Saviour's hobbit friend in a rush, snatching up the blanket from the bottom that was covering the Ring-bearer. "NO COMFORTS!" the ruffian yelled out, taking the prize back to his dead brother, covering the top part of the body.

"Oi!" Sam replied, catching up his master's heavy limbs, to prevent them from being bruised if they had hit the stone floor.

"There will be retaliation! The King thinks we are playing games!" Alphus bellowed, brandishing his sword approaching the prisoners. "Who's life does he value more? His lovely wife?" he questioned standing over the unconscious Queen. Then he moved to Frodo, "or his precious Savior?" eyes glazing with tears of frustration. Taking his left hand, he pulled off his mask.

Sam and Lady Eowyn gasped at the healing scar. It started from his right ear, across his cheek, trailing into his lips, finally stopping just below his chin. The puffy red skin suggested infection as yellowish pus oozed from skin hastily pulled together with black "X's" dotting the scar line.

"Maybe you, halfling?" sarcasm dripping from his mouth, the sword's point on Sam's throat. Sam did not dare swallow as he beheld the Ruffian's gaze for fear of his Adams' apple getting cut. That was how much pressure Alphus was applying. "Or perhaps this Lady of Rohan?" he said, slipping the sword's blade under the gag, cutting the cloth as if it were going through butter, blue eyes frozen upon the blood tinged blade.

Alphus turned around, bumping into Toulouse. "Do you not agree with me?" he asked his leader.

"I am sure he can hear you ranting now. Your voice does carry, but that is all you are doing," Toulouse egged his comrade on, knowing which buttons to push. He was his best swordsman, the one he could depend on to take his back. He was also known as the executioner. He could make the individual die a quick a death, or make it slow and painful.

"You are right. He pays!" Alphus said as he turned on his heel, slicing through a belly, blood starting to seep.

Gasps and widened eyes came from all four prisoners, full of shock and one of pain.

Aragorn listened as Elf's ears relayed every loud syllable from behind the wooden door. He did not, however, need interpretation as he felt the Evenstar's singing ebb. A gloved hand clasped protectively around it, hoping to hold onto the life force.

Legolas, sensing this, remained calm and closed his eyes. A few moments passed as the Elf let slide one tear down his cheek. One tear for the sudden silence of the little one's voice.

tbc.

Disclaimer: these characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I make no money off of this. I just like to write about them.

Man of Quality

Chapter 8

The feeling was sweet and serene. Warm and gentle. He had been here before. A long time ago, being cradled in the light as he struggled against the dark foes of Mordor. After he had been stabbed by the Witch-King at Weathertop, he had witnessed the Elf maiden in her true light, calling for him to come back home. It was now his turn to guide Arwen back to the light that he had once encountered and followed.

The singing was a comfort, familiar with the soft vocals that could carry your very soul off into a world of oceans, sand and pastures forever green. Legolas had carried many a tune on their journey before they had parted in Ammon Hun. Even Aragorn had a positive effect on him as his body lay in rest, recovering after his rescue from Mount Doom.

Without warning, the ethereal connection had been broken. A throbbing pain in his head as he was jerked out of the quiet warm place, multiple cries heard above him. His body felt warm, then chilled as if running a fever, sweat breaking out on his brow. Small fingers probing beneath his night shirt, a stinging sensation across his abdomen. Opening his eyes, he saw Sam's face, tears caressing the pudgy cheeks not yet comprehending words watching his gardener's mouth move. Then Sam's hands were cupping his own sunken cheeks, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam peered into his master's eyes, chaffing the cold cheek with his callused hands, tears of frustration rushing over filled rims. The stout hobbit, anger in his eyes, glared at the man holding the blood tinged blade just inches away from his target, still dripping with Frodo's blood. His master on the floor, Sam jumped up toward the Ruffian. His actions were not well thought out, as the blade was still suspended in mid air, ready to strike. He tripped landing with palms down.

"Sam, NO!" Lady Eowyn yelled out as she managed to raise a skirt covered leg into the air, tripping the halfling, hoping to deflect any kind of recourse on his behalf. One of her friends down was quite enough. She did not feel like telling the King that two dear to his heart were gone.

Alphus glared at the woman daring to intervene with his revenge. He wanted them all dead, but a hand stayed his, lowering the sword from its striking position.

"That will do, Alphus. We do not want all the prisoners dead," Toulouse said sneering as he looked into the eyes of the devoted servant to the Captain's fiancé, "Not yet anyway. We would not have any kind of leverage then, now would we?" he finished, grasping the Ring-bearer up by his shoulders none too gently. Blood trailed from the inflicted wound as the semi-conscious halfling was dragged away. "Let us see how he fares knowing he was the one responsible for this halfling's slow tortured death," he yelled out onto the balcony. Ripping a tie cord from one of the many draperies, the leader tied Frodo securely to the balcony's cold stone ledge, exposing the sliced abdomen to all the flying vermin to see. "Do you hear me King Elessar! Your precious Saviour will remain out here for the crows to nibble on until I receive confirmation that my men have gone free!"

"Aragorn, Aragorn!" Legolas shook the King's shoulders, calling him back to reality.

Aragorn's eyes glistened, then his face hardened as he looked into his friends face. "They will not leave Minas Tirith alive."

Legolas knew that the Ranger did not have to ask whether he would follow. It was an understanding between them that had grown over the many years they traveled together.

Pippin sat against the wall, shocked. He was at a loss for words for the first time ever, Strider thought to himself. It was his turn to shake the halfling, giving consolation. "Pippin! Frodo will be all right. You trust me?"

Slowly, Pippin recovered, the words of "crows nibbling" still echoing in his head. When he felt a large hand shake his shoulders, he was looking into steele gray eyes. "Trust? Um...Yes, my Liege. I trust that you will rescue them all," he said managing to by-pass the lump that had formed in his throat.

"This is what we are going to do and I need you to run interference to Faramir," Aragorn said. Pippin still seemed to be in a far away place. Strider shook him harder this time, the little ones head snapping back on his neck, "Peregrin Took! Do you understand your Lord?" he said sternly to get the future Thain's undivided attention.

"Yes, My Lord," Pippin replied taking a deep breath, pulling himself together. "I am ready."

Faramir was just above the King's chambers when he heard the Ruffian yell out his demands, securing the hobbit to the balcony's ledge. He heard moaning from below, his heart going out to Frodo. He could have taken the terrorist, but he did not know where the other man was, and he did not want to endanger the other captives. He had already received the message from the guard that one of the terrorists had been killed, quite by accident, but they were unsure how many were still occupying the room. The experienced Captain did not want to take the chance and expose his position too early, but he wanted to ease the Ring-bearer's mind that he was not alone.

Sam sat worriedly against the wall, dried tears streaked his cheeks. His stomach was tied in knots not being able to see his wounded master, or for that matter what exactly the Ruffians did to him. He was furious at the Lady for tripping him, but deep down glad that she had. He figured he would have been dead and that would not have been the best way to help Frodo. He mentally told himself he had to keep his anger and fear in check.

"I am sorry Samwise," Lady Eowyn apologized. "There will be an opportunity to help Frodo, and that was not it. You can pick your battles, but that one you would not have won," she whispered down to him.

"Yes,my Lady," he whispered back, looking up into her sapphire eyes. He reached for something in his pocket while the Ruffians had their backs turned, shoving it quickly into her bound hand,"Here, for later."

Eowyn felt a porous sharp edged fragment placed into her palm, closing around it fast. She nodded to Sam, keeping her eyes totally on their captors.

A small moan captured Sam's attention, thinking it was Frodo. Concentrating on listening for his master, the moan continued, but seemed closer. Sam glanced at a movement out of the corner of his eye, spying a moving finger belonging to the Elf. The moan turned into a sigh as more movements came from Arwen. "My Lady," Sam whispered touching the Elf on her forehead as her long lashed eyelids fluttered opened.

Eowyn had thought Sam talking to her and turned when he spoke, but realized that the Queen was finally awakening. He heart leaped with relief because Arwen had been out for quite a long time, thinking that King Aragorn's wife may never recover her senses.

Arwen had taken her time coming to awareness after she felt Frodo's life force being torn from her. She smiled inwardly, aware of the faint flutter within her belly knowing the little one she carried survived through the trauma. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes staring into green gold concerned eyes. Licking her dry lips, she felt the bump to the back of her head with long fingers, whispering "Samwise."

"Shh, do not talk. We are bein' held prisoners," the Ring-bearer's gardener warned.

"Frodo?" she asked concerned for his master's welfare.

At the mention of Frodo's name, tears welled up again and this time he could not keep them from coming. "They hurt 'im," he cried quietly, placing the Elf's head in his lap. He did not know if he should have, but it seemed to him that the Queen was most uncomfortable with her head resting on such a hard surface.

Arwen's eyes expressed understanding and her gaze left Sam's finding them looking into the Lady of Rohan's.

"How are you feeling?" Eowyn asked the Queen, bowing her head.

"I will be fine. How are you?" her voice cracking, realizing that Eowyn's hands were tied and hers were not.

"No talking!" Alphus bellowed coming around the corner from the foyer. His eyes roamed over the prisoners realizing that the Queen had awoken. "Well, I thought we had knocked you out never to return," he taunted stroking Arwen's face with his gloved hand,"I say, you did put up quite a fight."

"Leave her alone. Haven't you done enough?" Sam cried out, smacking the hand away from the delicate Elf's face.

"Well, aren't you brave," Alphus sneered looking at the unaffected hand, he continued to provoke the gardener, "If you do not want to end up beside the other hobbit, squirming in pain as his blood slowly seeps from his exposed wound attracting all sorts of vermin, I suggest you shut your trap."

Arwen's eyes bulged at the mention of Frodo's demise. She was about to get up herself when dizziness assailed her. She did not know what she would have done, but the thought of Frodo being tortured made her stomach roll.

"Stir something up, did I? Well, you just keep your pretty face down, or your King will find your head posted beside his Saviour," Alphus teased, one last stroke with his finger down her cheek before he got up laughing, leaving the prisoners feeling more helpless.

Relieved that his sensations were getting stronger, Frodo wished that he had stayed numb for a while longer. Horrible stinging pain assailed his belly, feeling rivulets of sticky ooze slide down his abdomen. It was becoming hard to breathe as the rope had been tied tightly around his bruised ribs, his breath coming in gasps. He was hot and cold at the same time and the stone did nothing for the waking ache in his back. Tears of despair fell hot on his face making him feel vulnerable, deciding this was worse than the Ring whispering falsehoods to him.

Even though it was nightfall, a shadow fell over him. His tear filled eyes looked toward the darkened area, recognizing the face of the Ruffian who had kicked him earlier.

"Hurts does it?" Alphus asked without remorse, prying none to gently the sticky skin apart, satisfied that the Ring-bearer flinched in pain.

Frodo noticed the man had a flask in his hand, uncorking it. His eyes closed as the foul breath Ruffian leaned in close, blocking the view from the rest of his aching body.

"Hmm, that must have hurt, but not enough. You see, I gave your friends the idea that you are in great pain as you were literally being picked to death. Now, let's have a scream," he hissed as the flask was tipped above Frodo's middle, emptying its cold contents onto the opened wound.

The blood curdling scream was wrenched from deep within Frodo, raising the hairs on everyone's neck that was withing hearing range.

tbc...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.

Man of Quality

Chapter 9

Summary: Frodo, Sam, Eowyn, and Arwen held captive by Renegades who want their fellow comrades freed. They torture the captives, especially the Ring-bearer.

The birdsong was barely heard above Frodo's scream, but the creatures communicated without even losing a single note as the Ring-bearer's voice faded to the background.

"Ah, I knew you had it in you," Alphus scoffed, tracing a finger along side of Frodo's hairline, ending at his jaw.

Frodo broke out in a sweat as he struggled against his bonds, turning his face away from his tormentor. Gasping for breath, he did not know how long it would be before he passed out, wishing that it was sooner than later.

Frustrated that the Ring-bearer refused to acknowledge him, Alphus grabbed both sides of the small jaw, leaving impressions from his thumb and fingers, forcing the hobbit's eyes to look at him. "Now, that I have your attention, I will give you another lesson. I was not pleased with your prior performance. I do not believe your King heard you," the Ruffian smiled, raising the still half full flask above the wound again.

Fear flashed in the blue eyes as they widened in absolute horror, struggling harder against his bonds, the rope biting into his already bloody wrists. "No...more," Frodo whispered his plea, looking at the flask.

"What was that?" Alphus paused the tipping of the flask, "I do not believe I heard you."

Another bird chirped, then a thump was heard. "What the...?" Alphus turned around just as a dark cloaked figure came up behind him an arm wrapped around his throat.

"He asked you to stop," the harsh voice breathed into the Ruffian's ear as the arm cinched tighter, cutting off Alphus's air.

The terrorist, still holding the flask, flung the liquid into the cloaked figures face. The cloaked figure released his hold upon the Ruffian, rubbing his eyes at the stinging liquid, rendering him blind. In that same instant, Alphus pushed the cloaked figure, making him stumble to the floor. He reached for his sword, swinging it high. He heard that same retched bird song again, realizing too late that it was a signal.

Whoosh, Thump!

Frodo turned his head as best he could, squeezing his eyes into focus. The Ruffian lay on the ground with an arrow in his forehead. The cloaked figure in the corner slowly got up, walking toward Frodo, wiping its eyes. A mask covered the man's face, but Frodo was not afraid of him, as he had run into his kind before in Ithilien. The masked was removed, revealing a kind faced Captain. "Faramir.." Frodo breathed, his heart thumping wildly against his chest before he lost consciousness.

Eowyn had managed to cut through her bonds with the piece of broken pottery Sam had given her earlier. Her heart fell when the Ring-bearer screamed, but that gave her the opportunity to finish the cutting quickly as the other two terrorists had turned their attention to what was going on out on the balcony. The prisoners had been watched carefully up until then and when the rope finally fell from her wrists, she nudged the gardener.

"I am free. Where is there a sword?" the Lady of Rohan asked quickly while the wiry figure had his body turned.

"Sam," the Queen whispered, a tear falling from her eyes, "My Elven sword, over there," she signaled with her eyes at the wall a couple of feet from where they sat. Since moving in, Arwen had no time to place her things where they ought to have been. One of the many items was the Elven sword she used in defense against the Ringwraiths at the Ford. A fine fabric of white silk, embellished with filigree gold, stood against a planter. It was made from the same fabric the Lothlorien Elves cloaks were made from, hiding its wearer from unfriendly eyes.

Sam steadied himself, watching for his chance. Quick as a hobbit could, the gardener stealthily made his way the short distance, his hands grabbing the cloth covered sword. From where he was he could see the men taunt his bound master, as he could peer between their bodies, little hands struggling against restraints with blood dripping to the floor. A tear fell as his stomach lurched. Silently quelling his stomach, Sam made his feet move away from their spot, carefully placing the sword behind Eowyn, hiding it from the terrorists just in time as the wiry fellow came back to his position followed by the leader.

"Alphus does have a way to make them scream, does he not?" Toulouse questioned, looking at the group sitting on the floor.

A birdsong came in from the balcony. "What kind of bird sings at night?" the wiry fellow questioned. Then he heard a thump.

Toulouse heard it too. "Stay on them," he warned, making his way to the balcony. Another birdsong made his way to his ears. Drawing his sword, the terrorist picked up his pace to the balcony. That was when he saw his partner being taken out by a Ranger's arrow. "The prisoner's! Get the prisoner's now!" Toulouse yelled out to his partner, running back into foyer.

The wiry fellow took his eyes off the prisoners as he heard instructions being laid out. That was the moment Eowyn needed as she found the handle of the sword, grasping it securely as she rose to defend her friends. The wiry man turned around too late as he saw the female prisoner's blue eyes up close feeling the coldness of a blade run him through.

The doors were thrust open, men of Gondor spilling into the foyer being led by King Elessar. Steele grey eyes searching for the one who kidnapped his friends, torturing them.

"Strider! He's on the balcony with Frodo!" Samwise yelled out as familiar friends surrounded the Queen, scouting the area for any other Ruffians.

The Ranger's instincts kicking in, Strider spotted a shadow behind a curtain, the outside moonlight illuminating it. The figure had its sword above its head, ready to strike down anyone that passed him.

Without a flinch, Anduril punctured the curtain, its blade slicing through flesh. Aragorn waited for a sound, but there was none as he retracted his blade, the body falling to the floor.

"Looking for me?" the Ruffian said, his sword against the King's throat. "Now, should I run you through just like you were going to do to me? Or should I behead you right where you sit?"

tbc...

Man of Quality

Chapter 10

Summary: Aragorn faces certain death, the healing process begins for all. 

Please be advised that this AU and some OC and based on Movie Version.

Toulouse's sword was quite sharp as it's blade sat firmly against King Elessar's throat, a thin red impression growing as the pressure continued. "I asked you if I should just run you through? Kill you unmercifully as your "ghost soldiers" had done to us," the servant of the Black Lord spat.

Aragorn sat on his haunches, using Anduril's pommel as a support and was about to grip it when it was suddenly kicked from beneathe his hand, clattering to the ground.

"Answer me!" the Ruffian yelled out. "Then I shall just kill your Saviour!" he declared removing his blade from the King's neck when he did not get a response, running to the balcony's ledge where the halfling had been tied to.

A feeling of helplessness erupted from the bottom of his soul shouting out, "No!" Aragorn got to his feet, closing the distance between himself and Anduril. Before he even gripped the Elf forged sword from its resting place, he heard the swoosh of an arrow being released.

Keeping his head low to determine where the weapon had been discharged, the arrow had already struck its intended target, the terrorist's body crumpling to the floor along with his sword. His steele grey eyes searched to thank Legolas, but found that the Elf was no where in sight. Aragorn's hearing picked up the shifting of a boot on loose stones behind him. Quickly gaining his feet, the former Ranger turned facing a presence in the darkness. "Come out or bear my wrath!" Aragorn commanded, Anduril's blade gleaming as it reflected moonlight.

Aragorn stood his ground as a cloaked figure, armed with a bow emerged from the shadows. Familiar blue eyes peered from behind a black mask and the Ranger knew he was facing friend instead of foe. "Captain Faramir," the King breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes reverted back to the stilled body on the ground, the arrow imbedded in its forehead. "I owe you my life, as well as..." bile rose to his throat as his eyes searched for the Ringbearer. King Elessar's heart beat fervently, "Where is Frodo?"

"I had to hide him, my Lord. He is still on the railing. I did not have time enough to free him from his bonds before the Ruffian re-entered from the foyer," Faramir explained, stepping toward the railing.

The King still did not see the halfling anywhere, but when the Captain found what he had been searching for along the rail, a cloth was lifted revealing the restrained Ring-bearer.

"Pippin lent me his Lothlorian cloak after telling me the story of how Frodo and Sam escaped enemy eyes," Faramir relayed as he started to cut the cords used to secure the hobbit to the stone surface.

Taking a few steps to close the gap between Frodo and himself, King Elessar espied the shivering form in the moonlight. Frodo's nightshirt was plastered to his torso with dried blood. Beads of perspiration coated the hobbit's forehead as the Ranger's hand brushed back soaked curls. "Oh, Frodo," he sighed.

A small moan escaped thin lips as Frodo's head turned, trying to evade the touch. "N...no," his voice weak, trying to breathe deeply; his abdominal muscles contracting at the effort. He cried out louder as the pain increased, shaking his head.

"Steady, my friend," Faramir whispered into the hobbit's ear, gently laying a hand on the small shoulder. "He is feverish?" the Captain asked his Lord.

Nodding his head, Aragorn knew from experience that infection was setting in and with the hobbit's compromised health he needed to treat Frodo soon. "Hang on, Frodo, we will have you feeling better in no time," he promised, gathering the feather light form into his arms, being careful not to jostle the abdominal wound.

Light headedness assailed Frodo as he felt his body being lifted into the air. He knew those hands all too well, and welcomed the comfort. "Ara...gorn?" he whispered, slowly opening heavy lids.

Surprised at the little one's fast recovery from the paralyzing venom, tears streaked the King's bearded face realizing that Frodo suffered as senses were coming back to life, "Shh...do not talk, Tithen Min."

No one noticed the woman being escorted by Legolas, leaning heavily against her kin. "Let me help him, my love," Arwen breathed, her hands holding on tightly to Legolas's arm, her head on his shoulder.

Aragorn looked up, appalled at the site before him. In one swift move, he transferred his charge into Faramir's arms, running up to Arwen, clutching her to his chest. Stroking her silky hair for just a moment, then cupping her chin forcing her to look up into his eyes. He bestowed a loving kiss to her lips, breaking off reluctantly when he ran out of air. "You are bleeding, my love. Arwen?"

The Queens eyes never left her husband as she was assaulted with questions, but her emotions were high after encountering the halfling's lifeforce, not fully recovered from their premature separation. Her face suddenly flush with heat, her stomach began to churn and had all but collapsed into Aragorn's arms.

"Arwen!" Aragorn and Legolas both cried out, the King brunting most of the Elf's weight when she fell into his arms.

"My love. I am not feeling very well. I am sorry...I" she stammered over her words, her fingers digging into the Man's wrists.

"Legolas, help her to the bed. I will be in. I...I" now Aragorn was at a lost; for two people he truly cared for were injured, each needing his attention. He watched with trepidation as Legolas picked up his wife with ease, treading lightly across the stone floor to their bed chambers.

"I have to see 'im. Let me go, my Lady!" a small but determined voice entered the foyer, traveling to rescuer's ears.

"Sam," Faramir and Aragorn sighed in unison.

Smiling, but keeping his attention on the trembling hobbit, Aragorn spoke, "We need to attend this wound. I dare not take this shirt off without soaking it. Go to the next room..." Aragorn spoke, a squeak in his manly voice.

"My Lord, go check on the Queen, please," Faramir took a deep breath himself and continued, "I know that Eowyn is fine if she holding back a feisty hobbit such as Frodo's gardener. Please, go. I will take care of this little one. We do have other healers we can send for," the Captain reassured the King.

"I will be in shortly, then. Take Frodo and make him comfortable," the Ranger complied, walking back to the bedroom to see to his wife.

Faramir started to follow, cradling Frodo when he suddenly stopped. His eyes first met with his future wife, trying desperately to hold onto Sam. A smile creeped across his face, a tear glistening at the corner of his eye. His body had been running on pure adrenaline, and now that he was finally able to slightly relax, feelings of relief coursed through his entire system when Eowyn graced his sight once more. "Eowyn," he choked.

"Faramir," she mouthed, letting Sam loose.

"Is he...Captain Faramir!" the gardener groped at his master's hand, trying to peek into the still pale face.

"He will be fine, Samwise. I promise," Faramir spoke, not taking his eyes of his bride.

Eowyn blushed, then took the bow from occupied hands, her fingers lingering a little longer than needed, once again finding the comfort she drew from him, realizing she was trembling. "The houses of healing?" she questioned, changing the subject quickly, feeling the Ring-bearer's forehead. "He is burning with fever."

"I know, Aragorn wants Frodo tended to in the next room. We will need a healer. I advised the King to look after his wife; that Frodo will be in capable hands until he made himself available," the former Steward's son nodded to Eowyn, then looked into the face of the pale hobbit he carried, exiting the once hostile environment.

A soft cool compress was brought to the injury, a gasp from the patient as dark eyes rested upon the healer. "You had quite a spell. How are you feeling, my love?" Aragorn spoke quietly to Arwen.

After a moment, the Queen was able to clear some of the cobwebs from her aching mind answering in her softest singing voice, "My head will be fine. My heart would not have survived if something had happened to you, dearest."

"Nor mine," the whispered voice of the former Ranger merely inches above his wife as soft lips brushed hers. He got up to mix some of his herbs into a waiting cup of tea, bringing it back to her lips. "It is to help you sleep, and for the nausea."

"How is Frodo?" she asked taking a sip from the concoction, wrinkling her nose. "Tithen min is right, your potions are awful," Arwen teased, a smile crossing her delicate features.

"I resent that, wife," he teased back, tracing her pointed ear with his fingertip as he replaced the old compress with a fresh one. Seriousness crept back into his face, his eyes faraway, "Frodo has a fever and what I can tell, a stab wound. I do not think deep enough to have damaged anything internally, for the blood was already thickened. It is just enough to worry me," he confessed.

Finishing her cup, she pushed it into her husband's hands, bringing him back from where he was. She took a deep breath, "I have something to tell you, Elessar."

His grey eyes flickered back to her deep wells of trust and love, "Yes?"

"Frodo's fea bonded with mine, unknowingly. I took strength from him to help us," her eyes never leaving his.

"I know. The pendant sang loudly once more. That was how I knew you were all right," he said, stroking her hair, watching her eyes glaze over as the potion started to take effect.

"Oh," she yawned big, "your potions are strong, my love. I took so much from Frodo. We will be fine now," Arwen's head was muddled, talking nonsense to Aragorn's ears.

"We? Us? Arwen, who are you talking about?" the King wanted to know, as he did not understand the whole context of what had transpired between the halfling and her, not believing she had any of her Elf qualities since becoming mortal.

She yawned again, her eyes fluttering to a close, "Frodo...saved...our son," she whispered before falling into the induced sleep.

tbc...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to put them in dire situations.

Man of Quality

Chapter 11

"Still...out," the voices floated above him as his mind fought to regain consciousness. Fingertips lightly scratching at a surface, the feeling of pins and needles had all but disappeared, but the pain in his abdomen was increasing tenfold.

"I will be gone momentarily, I have sent the gardener out on an errand, Master Mallos. I needed to let Master Baggins' kin know that he has been rescued," the Captain told the healer.

"Master Peregrin is in the care of his cousin at the Houses of Healing. Master Meriadoc brought him in just after the King announced that all was clear."

"How does the Periannath fare?" Faramir's concern heard in his voice.

"The shoulder will heal nicely. He will be there for the night. I have given him a sleeping drought," the healer said and continued, "Is this the only wound Master Baggins has?"

Looking upon the blood crusted nightshirt that had dried to the Ring-bearer's skin, Faramir nodded. "It is. Like I said, I shall return shortly. Lord Aragorn will be here as well. He wanted to see to Frodo's care personally, but is currently taking care of the Queen," the Captain said exiting the bed chambers, but before he did, placed a cool hand upon the hobbit's fevered brow. Frodo moaned, trying to escape the darkness that surrounded him.

Master Mallos nodded keeping his full attention upon the halfling's wound. Bound and determined to cleanse it before the King arrived, hands rifled through a pouch he had brought with him extracting a slim glass container filled with a colorless liquid.

Another soft moan as Frodo finally regained his senses. The healer heard the halfling and began to talk to him as he proceeded to soak the cloth. "Master Baggins, I am going to put this special water on your wound, all right?" the healer voiced, not actually looking into Frodo's face.

The Ring-bearer's eyes were half lidded, whimpering, as his fevered mind wearily focused on a man with a clear fluid filled bottle, hovering over his stomach. At that point, Frodo's eyes grew wide; the thought of being set on fire again terrorized the hobbit . "No!" he screamed. "Please, no more," the second more of a plea.

Mallos looked up from what he was doing, gazing into glazed depths of blue. "It is all right, Master Baggins. I..." he continued to speak calmly to the overwrought halfling, brushing damp curls from the sweaty forehead, but his effort was thwarted as Frodo tried to evade the touch, turning his head.

The room was only lit with sconces, but Frodo could tell he was on some kind of table as he tried to bury his heels into the covered surface trying to propel himself backward, out of reach of the stinging substance. Wide eyes darting about the room his breath caught at the sidewards shape of someone walking toward him.

"What is going on in here?" Faramir voiced in fury, rushing toward the flailing Ring-bearer, grasping Frodo's hands into his.

"Fara...mir. Help...me" the hobbit whispered in fear, deep blue eyes opened wide recognizing the Captain, clutching at the man's tunic.

Ignoring the harsh tone, the healer's main concern was the well being of his patient, "Hold him down, sir. The wound needs to be cleansed before it becomes infected," the middle aged man ordered.

"He is delirious with fever, why cannot we wait for King Elessar? Frodo trusts him," Faramir tried to reason with Mallos, brushing the hobbit's silky dark ringlets as the frail shivering body still clung to him.

"I am sure our Lord would agree with me, knowing how important it is to have a wound clean if a healer does nothing else at all." Taking a deep breath, Mallos continued above the whimpering sounds emanating from Frodo, "I also care for this Periannath and will do what I can for him."

Faramir thought on the words, knowing that Mallos was right. Even though he knew nothing of wounds, common sense told him as much. Frodo's fever was rising; his hot calloused hands stroking the over heated forehead. Nodding in agreement, he carefully entwined his fingers into the halfling's small ones, prying them from his tunic, speaking softly to the Ring-bearer as he pressed the tormented soul back onto the padded wooden press. "Frodo, he will not hurt you, I will be right here," the Captain cooed.

Realizing that Faramir was not taking him away from the mad man, but pinning him back down, the hobbit struggled against the weight holding his wrists above his head. "N...no! Let...go! Faramir...No!" Frodo cried, tears staining his cheeks.

Mallos schooled his features, not wanting to frighten the delusional hobbit further, he again held the bottle inches away from its intended target blocking Frodo's view with his body. The clear liquid pooled onto the abdominal wound, the halfling's body tensed at the new sensation. It did not take long for the liquid to penetrate the crusted blood, loosening the fabrics grip upon the delicate skin as remnants trickled down the sides of retracted muscles.

Anticipating the worse, Frodo held his breath; watery eyes still pleading to Faramir to let him go, familiar that this situation had presented itself before. Frodo squeezed his fingers tightly around the Captain's long ones as a shower of coolness danced on his belly instead of the stinging substance, rivulets of water running down his side.

The Captain did the best he could to assure Frodo that all would be all right, brushing the fever drenched curls from the sweating brow with his free hand. Small whimpers escaped pursed lips when the water was first poured onto the sensitive belly, slowly turning into gasps of relief. The treatment continued for a few more minutes before Faramir felt the little fingers relax within his grasp, observing the halfling's eyelids growing heavy, the hobbit's strength spent.

Fascinated by the waterfall, the hobbit laid on the riverbank lulled to sleep by the continuous barrage of churning water. The mist covered the little one's body, slightly cooling it as he breathed in the aroma of grass, culminating with soft tilled earth. A safe haven. Then the sound of the water changed pitch to a low grumbling. The ground beneath the hobbit's body shaking, smoke filling his lungs as fire erupted from the mountain. The lava flowed without interruption, and the rock protruding that he found refuge on was in its path. Scrambling to the topmost part, he soon realized he was trapped, the fiery hot liquid crashing against the jut, splashing onto the hobbit's clothes, burning through until it singed delicate skin.

Just as the Captain was about to let the relaxed hands go, Frodo's eyes popped back open, a small cry followed as the head lolled from left to right. "B...burn. S...stop!"

Tightening his hold, the Captain glanced back at what the healer was doing. He observed the middle aged man looking intently at the nightshirt still clinging to Frodo's abdomen.

Mallos had finished the soaking process and was beginning to lift the saturated fabric. As he did this, he met resistance, causing fresh blood mixed with a yellow discharge to ooze from the inflicted wound as he tried to gently pull it from its resting place. Quickly taking the liquid filled bottle, he poured more onto the wound until the glue like substance that was once blood let its prize go, leaving most of the skin intact for proper suturing later. Wiping the sweat from his own brow with the sleeve of his tunic, the healer corked his bottle and sighed. "It is done...for now," he added folding the fabric in itself to inspect the discharge in better light.

Faramir nodded, turning his attention back to the injured halfling. Frodo's eyes were closed, his breathing slowed. "Frodo?" asked the Captain, letting loose the little wrists. "Frodo?"

"He's out, Captain. A good thing, too. This wound will have to be stitched," Mallos said peering from the halfling back to the Captain. "I will step aside and apprise the King of the hobbit's situation. I will just dress the wound for now. The Periannath needs his rest."

"Aye."

He sat there like a bump on a log, trying to make sense of what Arwen had just told him. A son? Frodo? Bonding with his Fae. Then back to the original question, he smiled, sighing, "Son."

Legolas had sat in the shadows, being on hand if his friend needed him. He could only suppress the occasional smile as he watched the King of Gondor and Ardor contemplate his next move, Fatherhood.

Aragorn turned around and saw the Prince of Mirkwood smirking. "You knew?"

Unfolding his arms, he pushed himself from the pillar he was leaning on, silently making his way toward the dumbfounded King. "I sensed it," he voiced looking from Lord Elrond's daughter back to the grey steel eyes boring a hole in his head. "Remember we were in the hallway and your pendant Sang?"

A nod, then realization crossed those concentrated features as the King recalled the song being so loud, that he had covered the pendant trying to muffle the sound. He did not know at that time, that the melody was for his ears only. "You knew then?"

"How could I not? There were three. Arwen's, Frodo's, and the unborn child," he softly spoke, gently laying a hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

"Why...why did you not tell me, my friend?" Elessar's voice turned sour.

Taken aback by the tone, Legolas explained, "You could not go in there as the hot headed Ranger, Strider. You were already past the point of making a rational decision when it came to Frodo's well being, much less if you knew the Queen was with child. Your child," the Elf debated.

Reigning in his feelings of betrayal, now worry for his wife, he accepted the logical explanation. Aragorn had been rendered helpless when he heard the scream, frozen in place and time. He had known it was Frodo that was injured and had been stayed not to bust in on the scene. If Legolas had told him then that Arwen was pregnant, he would have jeopardized the other lives as well. "I wonder why your father never had you on committee?"

"I gave him the illusion that I did not pay attention. I like being out in the trees too much to be cooped up inside doing who knows what. My brother is better suited to be at his side than I am," Legolas smiled.

"If I can ask one more favor, to stay with Arwen. I am going to see to Frodo's injuries," Elessar asked, stroking his sleeping's wife hair before laying a kiss upon her brow.

"I thought the Captain was to fetch a healer?" the question came out before Legolas thought, then hurriedly replied, "of course I will. I meant no offense."

"None taken. Yes, Faramir did say a healer would be called in during my absence, but you know me, I have a special place in my heart for that little one. Even more so now as that stubborn Baggins unknowns saved the future heir of Gondor," a half smile crept across bearded face, dimples slightly showing as he thought of a son running around terrorizing the palace.

A knock beckoned at the door and Aragorn got up from the side of the bed. "Enter," he spoke in a normal tone, crossing the room so as not to wake Arwen.

The door swung open, letting in the slightest breeze that wafted the sweet scent of midnight dew as well as the foul stench of infection. Aragorn's heart dropped, knowing only too well that the man entering his abode brought ill news.

tbc...

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to J.R.R.Tolkien.

Man of Quality: Chapter 12

The fabric was placed into the King's hands from Master Mallos, a small frown outlining his face. With a healer's knowledge, Aragorn's eye caught the yellow tinge that outlined the bloodied nightshirt as he turned it over to expose the drainage. "How is he?"

"He's resting now, my liege. The blood stuck the shirt to the cut, making it difficult to remove. He tolerated it well enough, but the wound will have to be stitched and I thought that ye may want to do that ye self," the old healer said, his gnarled but able hands pointing at the stained fabric.

Sighing, Aragorn nodded his weary head, "Yes. I shall be there when he wakes. Do you have herbs to make a brew to dull his pain as well as thread for the stitching?"

"Yes, my Lord," Mallos said, fingering his pouch pocket. After a few moments of rummaging through it, a small cloth bag filled with herbs was cinched with a string. Then he produced four long black hairs with a silver curved needle which he bound into a piece of fine linen holding the items out for the King to take.

"Thank you, Master Mallos. May I call upon you for further services throughout the night?" he asked.

Taking a bow, "My Lord, I would be honored to watch over the Ring-bearer. First I must ask for assistance to carry the bodies back to the House for proper burial," he asked. The old man was a healer, but also part of the advising committee for the King which included religious commune.

"Master Gimli would be glad to help. How is Pippin doing? Did he arrive at the Houses of Healing as I asked him?" Aragorn continued to inquire of his friends.

"Very much so. He was escorted by his cousin, Meriadoc," the healer sighed. "Master Peregrin has his own agenda, I think. He wanted to have his arm re-wrapped and let go. Well, the shoulder has been re-wrapped, but Meriadoc slipped him a sedative so that he could rest," Mallos chuckled.

"I agree," Legolas chimed in, coming forth from the shadows startling the healer, "he is very protective over his kin. You know he is to be Thain someday," the Elf smiled, remembering the very long lineage the youngster has and recited it every chance he got on the long journey.

Aragorn had to suppress his laugh, but a slight smile emerged crossing his lips. "I am inclined to agree. Thank you. I shall see Frodo soon. I trust that Sam is with him?"

"Captain Faramir is keeping him company," the healer answered noticing the King's demeanor changing slightly. "Is that all right, my Lord? The halfling found comfort in the Captain as I was cleansing the wound," he explained.

"Oh?" eyebrows raising, disappearing beneath long bangs. "No, that was just fine. Please excuse me, it has been a trying day," Aragorn paused hoping Master Mallos would not question him further. Of course he had already believed that Faramir did not intentionally injure Frodo, but if the hobbit trusted Faramir enough during a treatment, then all must be well indeed.

"I have ta see 'im! Strider!" Sam's voice carried over from the foyer into the King's bed chambers.

Rushing out to see what the problem was, and only Aragorn knew that it had only to be something wrong with Frodo for Sam to be in such a rush, the long legged man stepped into the hall and stopped in mid tracks, the healer bumping him forward. Grey eyes took in the sight of two guards of the Citadel restraining the stout hobbit by each arm. The Ranger had noticed the all too familiar pose of attack from the halfling as he was raising an over sized furry foot to impact with a certain male anatomy. "Sam, wait!" Aragorn ordered, halting the gardener from kicking the oblivious guard that certainly would have requested time off for recuperation.

Stunned, Sam lowered his foot at the commanding voice, staring the man in the eye. "Strider! You have ta come...it's..."

"Slow down, Samwise. What is wrong?" the King asked kneeling before the distraught hobbit finally noticing wet eyes along with a reddened face that extended down to the gardener's neck. Strider had not looked everyone over as he was too pressed to see to his wife and now seen that a wound had also been inflicted upon this very soul. The cut was small, but stood out as the angry red marking seemed blistered. He looked at it casually, noting he would inquire about it just as soon as he finished with Frodo.

"Captain Faramir..."

"What? What about the Captain?" Aragorn's face started to harden, but schooled his features as he placed comforting hands on the small shuddering shoulders.

"He told me ta fetch ya. Frodo's hurtin' bad!"

Between each gasp of breath he took, the hobbit cried out trying to put out the fire that crossed his belly. Small hands were held in the Captain's to keep them away from the opened wound, his thrashing legs wrapped together with a bed cloth to prevent them from injuring Faramir further.

"Frodo, Frodo, try to calm down. Help is coming. Do you hear me?" Faramir cooed into the pointed ear as the Captain peered into blue wells.

"Please," Frodo whispered, "it b...burns," tears streaking the sallow cheeks as he looked into the Ranger's face.

"I know, but I do not know what to do. Sam has gone to fetch the King," Boromir's younger brother sympathized as the halfling's grip tightened within his grasp, bound legs bucking.

Frodo nodded his head, closing his eyes against the pain as he swallowed an over flow of saliva that had been building to quell his nausea.

Frodo's face turned very white, his eyes widened as his attempt failed to suppress the bile. All at once he turned his face away from the Captain, vomiting yellow fluid. Faramir let the hands go, lifting Frodo's head so that he would not choke on the expelling liquid. The hobbit turned his whole body to the side, shivering as his stomach stopped rolling, wincing when it contracted. Then he felt a cold cloth pressed to his forehead, slowly working its way down to his mouth wiping off the excess. "Sor...ry," he whispered again after catching his breath.

"Do not be sorry, Frodo," he replied, noticing that the halfling's eyes were screwed tight, his face becoming flush. The Captain grabbed onto snaking hands, keeping them away from the wound. "Frodo, is it still burning?" he asked, the hobbit nodding his head frantically.

"Make it...stop, please?" he begged between clenched teeth. He could see the fiery mountain again. He was at its edge, fighting with Gollum. He fell over the side, but caught the ledge with his good hand. The temperature was rising, the lava bubbling up lapping at the soles of his feet. Not sure whether he could hold out any longer, a small voice came from above, "Hang on. Do not let go," it said and he looked back down at the fire.

"Frodo! You hear me, let go!" the voice yelled out again and he snapped open his eyes. The King was standing above him now, trying to pry his little fingers from Faramir's tunic. Frodo released his grip, looking embarrassed as he reasoned he must have drifted off, reliving his nightmare.

"Ara...Aragorn?" Frodo squeaked.

Aragorn grabbed up one of Frodo's hands, gaging the hobbit's temperature with the other. Frodo leaned into the coolness, sweat soaking his already dark ringlets. The King was appalled that the Ring-bearer was not hot, more concerned what was causing his friend's pain. He moved his hand down to the belly, but ran into interference as the hobbit curled into a tight ball. Finally noticing that the legs were wrapped, he looked toward Faramir for an explanation and spotted a nice purplish blue discoloration along his right jaw. He needed no further information than that, knowing all too well how powerful those legs and feet were especially if this hobbit was injured.

Suddenly, the halfling's breathing became labored, flinching against Aragorn's searching fingers. "It b...burns!" Frodo yelled out, slapping at unseen hands, his face ashen.

"I must see your wound, Tithen Min. I know you have suffered a great deal, please trust me. I have some nice tea that will help with the pain that Sam is brewing," he coaxed as those large hands rubbed small circles on the small of the halfling's back. He used this soothing technique as a way to calm the Ring-bearer, ever since the stabbing at Weathertop. Hobbits, he learned, found comfort in just a simple loving touch as memories came flooding back of when he rocked the little one during his most painful nights.

"Strider?" a quiet voice spoke, a small hand pulling at his hemline. Looking down he spotted a head of blond curls. It was Sam holding a mug full of the brewed tea, steam billowing from the beverage.

"Thank you, Sam," the King said taking the cup from Frodo's gardener, lifting the pale hobbit, pouring the cup's contents between trembling lips. "Come, Frodo, drink this for me. It will help."

The Captain looked on with adoration at the injured hobbit being comforted by the King, recalling the many stories Pippin had told him of Boromir's fondness for the little ones until the unfortunate day the Gondorian tried to take the Ring as well as Frodo's life. He wondered if that act combined with his own inhumane treatment toward the Ring-bearer and his gardener forever sealed his fate to prevent them from becoming friends.

"Faramir?" Aragorn had asked for the third time, wondering where the Captain's thoughts had taken him. Frodo had finished the brew, relaxed enough that his legs were manageable, but the hands had to be kept away and he needed help while examining the stubborn Baggins.

The blond headed Gondorian turned his attention back to the situation at hand when he heard the King speak his name. He did not know how many times his name had been called, but the tone in Aragorn's voice told that it had been more than once. "Sorry, my Lord," he apologized bowing his head.

"It is all right," he nodded in acceptance. "Please, hold his hands...and Sam just talk to him. The herbal tea will make him a little disoriented."

"Aye, that it will. His eyes are already lookin' far off," Samwise observed, scratching at his neck before taking his hand to stroke his master's brow.

Aragorn noticed the irritated neck, but kept focused on his current patient. He would look at the gardener after Frodo, for only Samwise would have it that way. Gently, man sized hands grasped Frodo's covered legs, straightening them as he lowered them to the makeshift examining table. The hobbit had not a shirt on since the healer had removed it earlier, seeing for the first time himself the real damage done. Knowing that all eyes were upon him, he schooled his features as the trained healer. He glanced back at Sam who was keeping Frodo's interest about Merry helping Pippin, small hands comfortably entwining within Faramir's. Aragorn lowered his Grey eyes to fully inspect the sword wound. The blood had stopped signifying that indeed it was shallow, but the skin around it was puckered, red and blistered. Eyebrows drew together to the center of his forehead, a small "hmm" escaping his lips that had been overheard by Sam's keen hearing.

"What is it, Strider?" the stout hobbit asked, taking his hand away from Frodo's brow, scratching his neck again before dropping it at his side.

Neither answering Sam, nor ignoring him, the former Ranger delicately touched a finger to the raised fluid filled bubbles that surrounded the opened wound. A moan escaped Frodo's lips when pressure was applied, the fluid seeping from one of the blisters irritating the surrounding tissue.

Faramir had been gazing at the halfling's wound when the moan brought his eyes back to Frodo's face. It had become reddened as if with fever, but then he peered closer noticing the same blisters that were plaguing the small belly were now appearing on his forehead and lips. "My Lord, you need to have a look at the little one's face."

Aragorn raised his head at the distress in Faramir's voice, glancing to where the Captain indicated. In one swift move, the King was standing up at Frodo's head, cradling the small face between his big hands, gently brushing away stray curls, exposing reddened blistered skin. His man sized thumbs traced down the sides of the face ending at raw lips. Whimpering noises emanated from the Ring-bearer, the small hands tightening its hold within the Captain's grips as Aragorn touched the sensitive skin. "These were not here moments ago. Where did they come from?" King Elessar asked more to himself, but out loud.

Sam had been overlooked until he bumped against the Ranger's legs, trying to be more involved with his master's care. The stubby hand scratched at his neck, irritating the skin further before the gardener snaked his way up to Frodo's head, smoothing back his dark ringlets.

"Sam," Aragorn questioned, "the scratch you have on your neck, how did you obtain it?"

Sam's eyes narrowed in anger as he remembered exactly how he had tried to defend his master and failed. "The Ruffian that hurt Frodo, held his sword to my neck," he spatted.

"I see. How long has the cut been bothering you?" he asked releasing Frodo, examining Sam's wound further.

"I...I can't recall. Just itchin' really. Now, Strider, you needn't be lookin' at me, Mr. Frodo needs ya," the gardener said, trying to squirm out of the King's grasp that angled his neck to more light.

"Samwise," Aragorn's voice scolded and the stout hobbit stopped moving, "you have the same blisters as Frodo does," he declared.

tbc...

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.

Man of Quality

Chapter 13

The burning pain started to subside as the tea consumed was achieving its desired effect. The little one's energy had been spent earlier as wave after wave of pain washed through his entire body caused by bursting blisters, releasing their poisonous fluid. Aragorn and Sam comforted Frodo through the last spasm, placing Athelas cloths over tired sore eyes, whispering words of encouragement. The hobbit's body relaxed as a small sigh escaped puffy lips, his breathing deep and even. Putting his finger to his lips, Aragorn signaled the gardener to be quiet waving his hand to follow him across the room. Taking one more look over his subdued master, Sam stepped off his stool, slowly closing the distance between him and the King. He was beside himself, waiting to be told how he had infected his master and that he could not help him anymore.

Master Mallos and Gimli helped with recovering the Ruffian's bodies to prepare them for burial. They had used a wheeled cart to transport the corpses and their weapons from the King's bedroom, traversing the cobbled streets down to the houses of healing. A back door had been strategically placed when the city was first built; the healers did not want to parade the deceased in front of recovering patients. The cart was wheeled inside a large foyer with an oversized wooden door that led to a cool cellar where blocks of ice were kept to keep fevered patients comfortable, but also doubled as a temporary underground tomb to keep the decaying bodies from spreading germs and smells. Once the door had been opened, the deep cellar had been cleared of any overstock, making room for the four terrorists.

"Be glad to get this over with so that I can check on those two rascals you have stayin' here," Gimli declared, his boots clinking loudly as he treaded on the stone floor; weighted down with his burden.

Master Mallos had to agree with the Dwarf. The sooner the task was completed, the sooner he could help with the Ring-bearer's treatment. "I hope the King did not take you away from anything important, Master Gimli," the healer huffed as he and Gimli finished unloading the cart, arranging the Ruffians on the cool dirt floor.

"Not today. The men have a break as we wait for more stone to be delivered by the river. I am surprised on how well the city walls held up during the attack of those monstrous trolls. The boulders, however, did more structural damage to the roofs of lower level buildings," Gimli declared quite pleased with his progress since Aragorn asked him to oversee the restoration of Minas Tirith.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with a small square cloth, Mallos and Gimli started exiting the room when Captain Faramir almost tripped over the sturdy dwarf. "Whoa there, laddie, where is the fire?" Boromir's companion asked, holding out a hand to steady the hurried Gondorian.

"The King needs the weapons the Ruffians carried, especially the swords," Faramir gasped, catching his breath.

"What in the name of Valar for?" Mallos asked, confused about the odd request.

"He believes that the sword used to inflict Frodo's wound was purposely laced with sap from a poisonous plant," the Captain's racing heart fluttered at the mention of the Ring-bearer's name associated with a poison. What else would the hobbit have to endure before he could be left in peace? "The King needs to identify which one it is so that he might be able to create a counteractant."

"What are his symptoms?" the healer inquired of Faramir.

"Blisters mainly. They are covering his abdomen, lips, forehead. Aragorn believes that Samwise may have been infected as well, accidently transferring the poison from his own opened wound to Frodo's skin when he touched him," a look of apprehension, no lack of concern expressed.

"Yes, they are in here," Gimli pointed down to the cellar, "the swords and knives were collected and each wrapped in cloth within their own sheaths. Let us go and fetch them," the dwarf said, initiating the walk back down to the cool darkened room.

"Stop scratching, Samwise," Aragorn ordered the stout hobbit as he fidgeted while the King administered an ointment to the shallow cut on the gardener's throat caused by one of the Ruffian's swords.

"I can't help it. It itches. What is this stuff you puttin on me? It smells awful," Sam complained, but noticed immediately that the urge to scratch endlessly had lessened.

"A compound of bark and tannis leaves. It may smell, but it has been known to work wonders on skin burns," the former Ranger explained, liberally applying the compound. "I want to try this on you first, since your wound is not as severe as Frodo's," he said. After a few moments of the hobbit switching feet impatiently, the King was able to cover the wound efficiently enough, "Now, do not touch anything else and go wash your hands thoroughly. When you do that, then you may help with tending to Frodo. Understand?" he ordered sternly.

"I hope he will not be too upset with me for the blisters on his face. I really did not mean to cause him anymore discomfort," Samwise begged, wrangling his hands together in frustration, his eyes downcast as he spoke.

"I am sure Frodo is not upset with you. He will quite recover. This is just a minor setback," Aragorn quietly conveyed, placing his hands on the stout hobbit's shoulder. When Sam's face still showed worried frowns, he added smiling, "Trust me, he will pull through. Now, go wash your hands, but do not wash the ointment off."

Aragorn rose to his full height watching the gardener depart slowly toward the room where a wash basin stood waiting to be used. Sighing to himself he turned, walking over to the makeshift examining table to once again look over the injured halfling when he noticed the cloth had fallen off, blue orbs staring back at him. "Are you hurting, Frodo?" he asked, mindful of the blisters already formed on the small forehead.

Frodo shook his head, which made him feel more detached, taking a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. "Sam?"

"He will be just fine," Aragorn admitted, then he delicately asked the question that had started this whole situation with Captain Faramir. "Frodo, do you remember talking with the Captain, before you fell?"

The brows furrowed, a pain assailed him as one of the blisters popped, fluid draining toward his eye. Aragorn soaked up the poison before it could cause further skin irritation to the little one. "I do not remember much, except...my head...it was hurting, then I woke up and I could not move. It was foolish of me to threaten to engage Faramir in a duel," the Ring-bearer admitted.

Aragorn could not help but snicker at Frodo's expense, but it was a funny image indeed.

Frodo opened his eyes, staring into gleaming gray eyes. "My Lord, I do not see what is so humorous. The Captain thought I had offended Lady Eowyn's honor, how else would I defend myself if he wanted to pursue the issue?" he blabbed, the pain no longer a distraction as the medicine Strider had given him had finally taken.

"Well," the King said clearing his throat, looking down at his charge, "I am sure you would have given him quite a workout. He is very good, Frodo."

"I told you it was foolish," he said smiling a little.

"I am glad that you seem to feel a little better, but you know what must be done now?" Aragorn said with all seriousness.

"How bad is it, Aragorn?" the master of Bag End asked getting past a lump knowing that the relief from the burning skin was just temporary and the pain would soon return.

"I cannot stitch the skin together because of the blisters. I do not want to open anymore unnecessarily to cause further damage. I am assuming the Ruffians used some kind of plant's poison on their sword's, Tithen Min, and I have asked Faramir to retrieve them for me," the King of Gondor spoke, smoothing back the dark ringlets.

Frodo nodded, his eyes closing at the simple touch, relaxing him further. Then he popped his eyes open in alarm as he remembered something, "The one...the one that...did this to...me," he finally got out, as a new set of emotions rose within him, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, "he said..."

Aragorn could see how much duress the hobbit was under and for Frodo to describe his own torture was unbearable for him to hear as he was witnessed to the blood curdling screams. With a steady hand and voice, he quietly encouraged the halfling to continue,"take your time, Tithen Min."

Looking into friendly eyes gave him the strength to endure remembering when all he wanted to do was forget. Lowering his eyelids to dispell a tear, his blue expressive orbs rose to gaze into gray as he continued, "he said he knew how to make the pain and suffering last until I begged him to kill me, but I still could not feel anything, Strider. Just a little as if someone sticking me with dull needles. Then he...he poured something on my stomach that burned!"

"Oh, Mr. Frodo. I tried to keep them away from ya. I told 'em that you were sick. I told 'em," Sam burst out as he had quietly padded in from the hallway, not meaning to overhear the conversation between his master and Strider. He walked quickly to the makeshift table, stepping up on the chair that had been placed just for his use earlier. Grabbing up one of his master's long fingered hands, his stubbly one stroked the back, smoothing the skin.

"Sam, I know. I know," Frodo sighed, closing his eyes against another wave of nausea, swallowing hard.

Sam felt the hand tighten around his, looking into his master's blanched face, "Strider!" the gardener called out.

"I see, Sam," the former Ranger said, gently turning Frodo onto his side, grabbing for a small basin. "Frodo?" he asked, rubbing circles in the small of the halfling's back for measured comfort.

Taking deep breaths did not quell the queasiness and he dry heaved as his stomach was empty. Spent from the lack of oxygen, and the pain in his chest from the volitile coughing, his body shook uncontrollably.

Turning the little body over, Aragorn observed reddened eyes, sweat mixed with the poison beading Frodo's face. He quickly applied another Athelas soaked cloth, leaving off to inspect the abdominal wound. The King's face frowned with concern, his assumptions correct that the blisters burst on their own when Frodo contracted his stomach muscles. The wound was seeping a watery bloody fluid, the healing tissue separating due to the force. The Ring-bearer was infecting himself; the cycle never ceasing. The Ruffian had a very effective way of torturing his prisoners.

"Cold.So, cold," Frodo whispered, shiver bumps erupting all over the pale alabaster skin. Sam was off the stool and back so quick with a coverlet, that Aragorn did not have time to register in his mind that he had ever left. Hefting the large coverlet was proving a chore for Sam, so the King intervened, placing it snugly around the gardener's master.

"There, that seems a might better, sir?" Samwise voiced quietly in Frodo's right ear, brushing the stubborn ringlets around it keeping it tethered there for just a moment.

Frodo nodded, trying to curl up onto his right side. The attempt proved futile, but then he felt cooler air on his left side as large hands untucked the coverlet before being placed under his neck and knees gently rolling him from his back to his desired fetal position. A pillow was then placed under his head as the familiar Athelas soaked cloth found its place once again on his brow, covering sensitive eyes. He was warm and comforted for just a moment, his mind thought before the darkness enveloped him.

His heart aching at the touching scene, Captain Faramir entered with the requested artifacts, hoping that the healing hands of the King would be able to find the right antidote to the suspected poisons lacing the Ruffian's swords. "My Lord," he announced his arrival in the room hoping that he was not intruding.

"Captain," Aragorn acknowledged noticing the cloth covered bundle, "thank you for fetching them so quickly. Are these all of them?"

"Yes, but I do not know which one belonged to whom. Master Gimli and Master Mallos had left them in their sheaths covering them with this cloth. They had laid them in a pile," Faramir relayed.

"I know which one it is, Strider, sir," Sam voiced at the King's side, looking down at his feet his face flush when those Man's eyes stared back at him. "I...I may not have looked good at him in the face because of his mask, but when someone's got a sharp blade at your neck," Sam looked up this time at the Captain remembering the day in Ithilien when his men forcibly captured him and his master, "every inch of metal and handle seems to burn in a picture in your mind that you never forget."

Aragorn agreed with the gardener as he too would not forget the Ruffian that had him at a disadvantage, nodding his head when he noticed something odd in Sam's demeanor; it had changed from servant to protector in a flash. He knew then that this little hobbit still held a grudge against the Captain, and it would have to be dealt with after Frodo recovered. "Good. Faramir, let us examine these weapons more closely over here," Aragorn pointed to the shortened wooden table that had been made for the hobbits use at meal times.

Farmair, too, noticed that there was still some ill will toward him, but chose in his mind to talk with Sam at a later time. Right now was too delicate for the both of them as a friend they held dear to their hearts needed help. Kneeling on the floor to accomodate his size, the Captain unrolled the darkened burlap, revealing four sheathed swords, one that belonged to each of the Ruffians. The Captain then took each blade out of its protected environment exposing the excellent craftmanship of the smithy. There was nothing to indicate that the swords had never been neglected in its care as the candle's light danced over the concave of the blades as they were being inspected. The handles were all constructed differently suspected for the comfort of the hand that held it. Markings of the 'One Eye' were carved in all of them, but certain markings stood out and two of them were the same. The Captain suspected that they were of the same house, relatives. "These two were brothers," he announced after making his conclusions. "The animal markings are the same on these, but are different on the others," he pointed out to the other two pair of eyes looking on.

"This one belonged to the leader," Aragorn said without debate, fingering the animal shape of a large ferocious Warg that took up most of the handle's length. He picked it up, resheathing it before putting it aside leaving three to choose from. The King noticed that Sam had fixed his gaze upon one of the 'brother' swords. He gave him a little time to speak, but after a few more moments he gently prodded the gardener, "Sam?"

Bringing his sleeved arm up to swipe at moist eyes, Sam finally spoke as he pointed to the sword that inflicted his and Frodo's wound, "This one."

"Are you sure?" the former Ranger asked.

Looking up into gray eyes, a tear fell from defiant green eyes, "He didn't completely clean it; I can still see Mr. Frodo's blood, Strider."

He hugged the hobbit closer to him for reassurance before his hands carefully picked up the appointed sword, closely examining the blade. The diffused light barely depicted the place where some sort of clear substance, now hardened, had been purposely placed, a reddish colored residue smeared over it.

"I also brought this up," Faramir interjected pulling a metallic flask from a burlap sack. "When Frodo had gotten so upset earlier when Master Mallos tried cleansing his wound, I figured this flask must have been the cause. He confessed later that the Ruffian poured something on his flesh that burned."

Aragorn gazed at the silvery flask recalling the same conversations not just moments ago. "Yes, he confided in me as well. Let me see it, please," he asked holding out his hand to accept the requested item. Placing the sword back onto the wooden table, nimble fingers uncorked the flask as his nose took a whiff of the liquid inside. The former Ranger's head snapped back from the potent slap he recieved, wrinkling up his nose, blinking his misting eyes several times.

"What is it, My Lord?" Faramir asked rescuing the flask from limp hands, settling the King down onto the floor. Sam was there with an Athelas soaked cloth, holding it to the Man sized forehead.

Regaining his senses as he took several deep breaths to clear his muddled mind, he pulled the Athelas cloth over his mouth to breathe in the healing aroma to soothe cinged lungs. "Thank you, Samwise, I will be fine now," he said, his voice raspy. Taking another deep breath, he added, "That is cleaning fluid. Never diluted. No wonder it burned Frodo, especially when poured over his opened wound," his said with teeth clenched together as echoes of the Ring-bearer's tortured screams reverated in his head. "I believe that," he said pointing to the flask, "com..." a cough, "combined with the poisonous sap are the culprits causing the blisters and burned skin, but the sap alone will cause the vomiting and blistered skin on its own. The cleaning fluid was just for sport. Frodo's temporary paralysis did not give the Ruffians the satisfaction he wanted, but I suspect when he noticed the Ring-bearer's sensitivity returning he added fuel to his burning desire to torture," Aragorn finished, letting the information sink in. He got to his feet, swaying just a bit before he picked up the sword in one hand, carrying the flask in the other glancing at Sam's neck, "I am going to the healing house for some herbs,it seems the tannis leaves are working on Sam's wound. I will return shortly. Captain, will you stay with Frodo and Sam?"

"Yes, it would be my pleasure," Faramir replied in astonishment. "Is there anything special that Frodo needs?"

"Just rest and comfort in knowing that he has friends surrounding him," the King spoke softly before he exited the room with his burdens.

It was only a few moments after Aragorn had departed the room when the injured halfling coughed, inhaling deeply before the familiar gagging sound erupted from Frodo's throat. Faramir and Sam reached him at the same time, the Captain holding the small head over the basin the gardener was holding. Shivering uncontrollably, small moans escaped still swollen lips as the contracted muscles ached. "Sam, do we have anymore ginger tea?" Faramir asked as memories of his mother was brought to the foreground, reminding him of what she did whenever he was sick to his stomach. The stout hobbit nodded and trudged off toward a warming kettle. The Captain wiped the fevered forehead as well as the drool from the little one's mouth before lifting the light bundle, cover and all, carrying him over to his mother's old rocking chair where he sat with Frodo in his lap. Immediately he began rocking as his mother would have done when he was ill, brushing stray curls out of tired eyes. It did not seem right to be cuddling this creature as he was considered an adult in his own world, but here and now, Frodo seemed a child. Sam walked in carrying the warmed ginger tea offering it to the Captain to give to his master. The hobbit drank greedily for his mouth was dry, his stomach empty.

After finishing the cup, Frodo let his body relax against the Man's shoulder, snuggling closer into the coverlet. "Faramir?" he said.

"Yes, Frodo?" the Captain answered, slowing his rocking.

"Thank you," he breathed before heavy lids closed permanently welcoming sleep.

Stunned for just a moment, Faramir was brought back to his senses as he felt a small hand tighten around his arm cradling the hobbit's head. He looked up into smiling green eyes as Sam mouthed a simple 'Thank you' before walking off with the emptied cup. The Captain's heart warmed as he was finally accepted by the two he had done wrong during the war. Smiling, he resumed his rocking watching over the sleeping Ring-bearer.

tbc...

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Man of Quality

Chapter 14

Aragorn had spent all night and into the early morning pounding and grinding herbs to make into pastes to be applied liberally over the hobbit's body. Bringing the supplies with him from the Houses of Healing, he happened upon Faramir whom still sat in the rocker cradling a sleeping Ring-bearer. Looking about the darkened room, he found that Sam had curled up in one of the overstuffed, oversized chairs with eyes closed and breathing even. Quietly, he tapped the former Steward's son on the shoulder.

Faramir startled at the touch, his eyes wide as he looked up into the eyes of his King. Taking a deep breath, he rocked forward a bit, bowing his head, "My Lord."

Aragorn raised his hand in protest at the bow, "He is sleeping, I see. Please assist me with applying the ointment?"

"Yes, of course," Faramir whispered, slowly rising from the chair, gently resituating his arms beneathe the light bundle as he traversed the short distance to the makeshift table.

"No, I think the bed. He will be more comfortable," the King decided at the last minute, taking a bowl of warmed water with him that he had poured from the heated Kettle.

Looking into a relaxed face, the Captain hoped Frodo's stomach would not roll while he was asleep being jarred by all the motion. One more reshifting of weight within his arms, strong legs carried Frodo to the awaiting bed. The down comforter had been pulled back, a double layer of towels layed on top of fine linen. With ease as if laying down a babe for slumber, he relinquished his hold upon the Ring-bearer, the covers falling off revealing goose bumped blistered skin. When he saw Frodo's lower lip trembling, he quickly covered the small body with the down comforter, waiting for Aragorn's next instructions.

"We can keep Frodo covered at all times here while we administer the ointment," Aragorn told the wearied Captain, bringing a medicinal pedastal and morton, something that looked like linen cloth, but had ripped edges, and lastly the water bowl. He set these items on the side table, then sat on the side of the bed.

Faramir did not know what to do, so he stayed a step behind. Aragorn quickly noticed this, "Please, sit in the chair, Captain. It will easier for you to assist me that way."

Did as he was told, Faramir took the seat beside the table, folding his hands, settling them in his lap, just like his mother taught him. His mother, he was glad she was not alive to mourn the loss of her son, Boromir, or their father. She would not have taken the loss well and would have protected Faramir by telling her husband not to send their only son back out on a suicide mission. Even though he did it to impress and get the love he so desperately needed, only in the end, did Denethor express any remorse for Faramir. Just as Mithrandir said. He should have known the Wizard was right, but emotion overruled him thinking logically.

"Faramir?" Aragorn spoke, noticing the Captain was off somewhere else. He had completely disrobed the halfling when he needed the warmed water to cleanse the wounds, feeling the little one tremble with cold. "Faramir! Please hand me the water."

"Oh, sorry, my Lord," he apologized, handing the water to the King.

"What has you in thought? Eowyn?" Aragorn said trying to engage the distanced Captain in conversation.

"My mother," he sighed. "Looking at Frodo, so little, so helpless...I just cannot help to treat him as a child. My mother would have done the same, I think. Rock him, give him tea for an upset stomach. Things she did for me when I was that small," he quietly spoke, bleeding his heart out for the halfling.

Pouring the warmed water over Frodo's abdominal area, letting it trickle down to the cover he had been wrapped in, the former Ranger smiled, bringing his own feelings into the conversation, "I, too, have to confess these little ones, especially this one can have you wrapped around their fingers, but during our journey, they can amaze you of how resilient they actually are. Their size does not matter as it is their hearts that are bigger."

Nodding, Faramir took interest into the skill of the King as a healer, promptly covering up the small body before it chilled, meticulously cleansing irritated skin, avoiding overfilled blisters. He also noticed that Frodo barely stirred under the experienced hands. "He trusts you. You must have tended him before?"

"He almost died on our way to Rivendell," Aragorn said matter of factly, but the memory of almost losing the hobbit to the Ringwraiths made him shiver. Shaking his head to clear it he then asked for the ointment.

Faramir handed the mortor to the King, his green eyes glimpsing a couple of odd scars; the livid one on the left shoulder seemed frightenly familiar. Pointing to the translucent area, he dared to ask, "What happened to him?"

As knowledgable hands spread the paste over reddened inflamed areas of the halfling's body, Aragorn spun the tale of Frodo's encounter with the Witch-King of Angmar. The Captain listened intently, realizing the strength and resilience that lied within the Ring-bearer was more than his brother, Boromir, must have had. He had heard Sam's retort of how Boromir betrayed the Ring-bearer, madness overtaking him, his lust for the Ring winning out. He had never asked anyone about how Boromir died, only what Pippin's account of what happened before he and his cousin were taken prisoner. If anyone might have known, maybe it would have been the Ranger. Taking a chance, not knowing if he was ready for an answer, he asked Boromir's travelling companion for an explanation. "My Lord Aragorn, were you with my brother before he died?" his voice a whisper as his throat seized.

Not expecting their talk to go in that direction, Aragorn was not ready to discuss what was between him and Boromir before he died. The Gondorian confessed to trying to take the Ring from Frodo. He suspected as much when he found the disheveled halfling sitting on the grassy knoll, pleading that the Ring had taken Boromir. They never got into what exactly took place as the halfling retreated from himself as protector, fearing that It would serenade the future heir of Gondor into murder. Knowing that Faramir needed closure, he answered as best he could, "I was. He had been pierced with Orc arrows trying to save Pippin and Merry. He did not want me to remove them. He fought bravely, Faramir, and was a great warrior and friend to us all."

A tear glistened in the Captain's eye, "Did he...," the next question a squeek, cleared his throat and again tried his voice, "Did he try to hurt Frodo?"

Sighing, Aragorn stopped applying the paste, covering the hobbit up before turning around, looking into green eyes. "You have to understand, It would have taken us all, in time. I believe Frodo knew, and tried to leave the company before the Ring could do harm. I just did not heed the warning signs," he said letting the enormity of the Ring's power sink in. "Boromir did confess to me that he tried to take the Ring from Frodo, but had not succeeded. Frodo got away and tried to warn me. That was where the company had been forcibly separated by Saruman's Uri-Kai. They were on a hunt for the halflings, and were ordered to kill the rest of us."

The room became silent for the longest moments, nothing stirred, then Faramir sighed deeply, coming to terms on his own, satisfied that Boromir had not died without honor. He had confessed his sins at the end, to the one he accepted as his King. "You set him in that boat, then?"

Aragorn just nodded, not trusting to voice his reply.

"Thank you for being with him at the end," Faramir gratiously thanked.

"I have it from here, Faramir, why don't you go get some sleep. You need it after staying with this rascal," the King joked.

"I will take you up on that offer, sir. Good night," he bowed his head and turned on his heel to leave when stopped by his Lord once more.

"Thank you for your quick thinking tonight. We all may have lost our loved ones if not for your attentiveness to the activities of the city," Aragorn declared, looking eye level with his fallen comrade's brother.

Nodding again, Faramir exited the room to go find solace in his own bed that night.

The King set back to finishing his task at hand. After coating the little one's body, he applied the warmed fine linen cloth to Frodo's abdomen to keep the paste from rubbing off onto the covers. He gently lifted the weightless figure, removing soaked towels from beneath him, leaving him unclad except for the linen and the comforter he tucked about the small figure. He then sat in the chair, not realizing how tired he actually was, dozing off immediately.

The next morning looked promising as Frodo's facial wounds were responding to the King's ointment, but it was the abdominal wound that had the King worried. Aragorn gently lifted the cooled linen from Frodo's abdominal area, where most of the damage had been done. The redness had spread from the edges to most of the little one's stomach, the exposed second layer of tissue was turning black with some oozing of a reddish fluid. Checking the sleeping hobbit's pulse point, the King blew a sigh of relief as no irregularities were found, but the skin beneath his touch still felt a little warm, fearing fever. He retucked covers, but not before he had glimpsed the translucent scar left by the Witch-King that was not quite healed. And he knew it never would. He just did not know if Frodo realized it yet or not. "You have amazed us all once again, my friend. Especially when you unknowingly saved my unborn child's life. I owe you much, Tithen Min and I do not know how to repay you," Aragorn sniffled, a tear sliding down his cheek knowing all too well that even though he had hands for healing, he could not heal the one person that needed it the most.

"Darling," a soft voice floated over to him from the entryway, "how fares Frodo?" Arwen asked.

Aragorn turned easily, acknowledging her presence. He could hear it now, the pendant quietly humming in his ear, a combination of her and their unborn child's feys. "He sleeps, as should you be. You are in no condition to be wandering about, especially without an escort. By the way, where is Legolas?"

Shyly, Arwen bowed her head and when she lifted it back up, her face was flushed. "I told him that I wanted some of that delicious chocolate ice that could only be found in the lower levels."

"You lied to him?"

"No, I...created a diversion, so that I could find you," she answered truthfully, a slight smile on thin lips.

The King smiled, waving a calloused hand for his wife to come closer. Arwen carefully trapsed the small distant between her and her husband as she still felt a little lightheaded. Huge arms embraced her, encircling her with warmth and security as he planted kisses on top of her raven black hair. She would have fallen apart there, but schooled her emotions. She had been through worse, carrying Frodo across the Ford with nine Ringwraiths trailing behind, but this was different. She had an unborn child to protect, her motherly instincts taking over. She stood on the edge, sorry that Frodo was made to suffer and self preservation winning out. She did not understand, and maybe this was what mortality brought, a new kind of fear that life was precious. A tear slid down her cheek, unnoticed by the one that held her.

They stood there like that until a small hysterical voice interrupted the silence, "No...no...the Eye...NO!" Frodo shouted out, sitting up gasping for air, eyes wide staring into space, a flailing arm shielding his face.

Aragorn was immediately at the bedside, placing hands upon bared shoulders, gently pushing the hobbit back down onto the mattress speakly softly, "Frodo, you are safe, here in Minas Tirith."

Frodo did not hear the familiar voice, just fighting hands that sought to restrain him. He pushed back, but with little advantage as his strength had already been spent. "Sam?" he whimpered when he thought to finally succumb, "so, sorry, SAM!"

As if on cue, the stout servant appeared at the doorjam, padding as quickly as his feet could carry him to his master's bed. With speed on his side, he bounded onto the bed without the assist of the step, immediately taking Frodo's hand into his own, cooing quielty into pointed ears as he brushed back dampened curls with deft fingers.

"I'm here Mr. Frodo. No one to hurt you anymore, no one. Go to sleep," he whispered.

Frodo arched his back, nestling his cheek into the palm of Sam's hand, his body relaxing under familiar touch and voice. "Sam?" he whispered, "I...I do not feel very well. It seems as if I had gotten into Bilbo's old Winyards. Tell him I do not want elevenses. He will understand from you," Sam's master said, his eyes fixated on his servant only.

Playing the scene out as if they were back at Bag End, Sam forced a smile speaking calmly, "You go right ahead and sleep. I'll tell Mr. Bilbo, so don't ya worry," the stout hobbit kept smiling for Frodo's benefit until the blue eyes were hidden behind long dark lashed lids.

"What would I do...without you, Sam?" the new master of Bag End whispered, falling back into a fevered sleep.

"Strider, what's wrong with 'im? Last night he wasn't talkin' out of his head!" Sam voiced angrily, swiping tears from his face with the backs of calloused hands.

Arwen had stepped to the side where Sam was crouching beside his master, placing comforting hands upon his sturdy, but trembling shoulders.

"His wound is not healing like it should. I had hoped that the cleansing the Healer Mallos had done and myself would have warded off any infections," Aragorn apologized because the next thing he had to do was going to be harder on the hobbit than himself. "I just hope he will be strong enough to bear a more aggressive cleansing, or we might still lose him even after all he has been through."

tbc...

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Man of Quality

Chapter 15

His chamber was still lit when he entered, slowly walking toward the first cushioned divan where he settled down onto it, fatigue finally catching up with him. Captain Faramir sighed, letting the words he needed to hear, wanted to hear sink in. His brother died with his honor and that he was not alone. A lonely tear escaped from Faramir's eye as it slowly descended, caressing his cheek, grateful that Lord Elessar had told him everything that he wanted to know. He knew it must have been hard on the King, to tell a relation that their brother betrayed the Fellowship for his own endeavors, admitting his guilt before he died. Aragorn simply stated that there was nothing to forgive. The power of the Ring was beyond them all, except at that moment, the one who carried it. Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts continue to wander, slowly drifting off to the world between wake and sleep. His eyes popped opened to a soft knock at the door. Regaining his bearings he wiped his face, wincing as he had forgotten the bruise that Frodo had inflicted upon him, he answered"Enter"

Long locks of wavy blond hair cleared the door jam followed by the lovely face that belonged to them. "Eowyn" Faramir inquired"what are you doing here, it is late and you should be asleep."

Pausing before continuing to enter the foyer, she let her hands dangle in front of her. The bandages that covered her wrists caused by rope burns sorely stuck out from under her dressing gown. "I could not sleep. I heard footsteps, hoping that it was you that had returned" she managed to say before her voice cracked. She really could not sleep, but it was because she had been playing out the ordeal in her head, each scene taking a turn for the worse. Not helping but noticing a bluish mark upon the fair face she asked"How is Frodo? Did you two quarrel again" she chided changing the subject quickly pointing to the lovely bruise.

Sensing that Eowyn did not want to talk about what was really bothering her, Faramir answered her inquiry as he placed a hand on the divan, signaling her to sit next to him. "Have to watch out for those powerful feet, they are his asset"the Captain teased then on a more somber note"He slept most of the night, until Lord Elessar took over his care. He applied some sort of salve to the injuries, but was still concerned with the laceration upon the little one's stomach. I guess I was falling asleep on the job so to speak, so he relieved me, ordering me to get some rest."

Slipping one of her injured hands into his, she caressed the fingers with her own, smiling into his blue eyes. "You have been crying, my Lord. Tell me, what is wrong" she asked concerndly.

Turning his head away in embarressment, because his father never approved any of his sons showing emotion, he quickly wiped at his face, wincing at the touch, replied sternly"Nothing."

Eowyn was not taken aback, this just made her more determined to push her betrothed. They had shared so much already; both being in the Houses of Healing from wounds inflicted by the Witch-King. It was there that they had fallen in love with each other and found a new perspective to go on living. A life that would not be possible without the determination and a heart so pure, that one little hobbit was willing to forfeit his to save the rest of humanity. "You cannot hide from me my Lord Faramir, for I am beginning to understand your heart. Please, tell me, what is bothering you so"

Faramir turned back towards the lovely Lady of Rohan, embracing her with all his love as he cried upon her shoulders.

Master Mallos saw to it that plenty of herbs were delivered to the Ring-bearer's chambers, followed by extra kettles to warm the water for bathing. Frodo's fever had risen considerably throughout the morning and into early evening, bringing on nightmares so intense that even the King had a sore time trying to hold the hobbit down afraid of injuring him further. After the last bout, and almost getting a shiner that would have paled by comparison to Captain Faramir's, he had decided to give Frodo a bed bath to help bring the fever down.

"Leave...me...alone" the sick hobbit pleaded, his large eyes sweeping over the room at the men standing above him. Then his teary blue's landed on a familiar friend that was with him to the very end. The very end to where he thought he would sleep forever and never wake up. "Sam" he whispered. Then his attention fell to the cloth coming very close to his hips as he felt the covers being lifted from his lower body. "Stop! Do not touch...me" Frodo yelled, trying to strike out as man-sized hands sponged him off just as rapidly as the water became hot from the overheated body.

"Pardon me, Strider, but let me try. You're just making him more mad with what your're doin'" Sam interrupted through the tugs and grunts. Frodo had grabbed hold of the man's bicep, not letting go, as the healer had the hobbit's legs effectively immobilizing them as he did not want to become another victim of those powerul furry feet.

"My Lord, we need to cleanse that wound immediately, before it is too late. If the fever rises, then he will die just from the heat itself" the healer pleaded. "I have herbs that will help calm him."

"And how do you..." the King grunted as the hobbit squeezed tighter upon his arm"propose we get it into him" he asked sarcastically. "Sam, do what you can, for his sake."

Sam manuevered himself upon the bed at his master's side, took up the cloth and began to sponge off Frodo's sweaty brow. "Now, now, Mr. Frodo. No one to get you here. Just Strider, the healer and me self. No use puttin' on such a fuss. Strider's just here to help ya" the gardener cooed into the small ear. As Frodo concentrated on the words being spoken to him, Aragorn, still holding onto the hobbit, or rather the other way around, had slid his body beneath the little one's shoulders, crossing the small arms securing the hands within his.

"Sam" Frodo breathed out rasply"My eyes hurt. They feel sticky and hot. My whole body is on fire. Are we still on the mountain" he managed to ask before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his body starting to shake uncontrollably.

"We're too late" the healer gasped releasing the hobbit's legs.

Aragorn grabbed the damp cloth from Sam's limp hand, folding it in half before forcing it between Frodo's clenched teeth. "Hold on, Tithen Min. Fight it" Aragorn said aloud, turning the thrashing body over onto its side just in case there was anything left in the little stomach that wanted to come up.

As soon as it had began, the seizure was over. as a warm tingly sensation flowed beneath the Ranger's fingers, a soft uplifting voice humming in his ear. He recognized the melody, the pendant he wore sang it to him often enough now. Looking up, his steele grey eyes focused on the black haired raven beauty standing alongside the unconcious form he held in his arms as her delicate long fingers rested upon trembling flesh.

"Arwen" Aragorn asked"what are you doing"

Without opening her eyes, she explained"Please, Estel, he selflessly supported our child's lifeforce, now it is time for me to return the favor."

"Rest Frodo, be at rest. Soon you will feel the sun on your face again, the grass beneath your feet" Arwen's thoughts reaching out to the hobbit's fey. She felt the pain, the fear and took it away from the little one, tossing it to one side as if it were merely some bug she set free. Frodo sat huddled in a dark corner, her presence lighting the way to his freedom.

"My...Lady" he spoke, his voice quavering.

"Yes, Frodo. I have something to return to you. Do you remember" she asked spreading the fabric of her skirt wide, hiding something within the folds.

The master of Bag End squinted, thinking hard on the Queen's question. "I...I touched you and the pendant you are wearing now, started to glow and...and sing."

"Yes. The singing you heard was the spirit of Estel's and my unborn child that your selfless shining spirit helped save" she said, letting her dress fall to her side revealing a boy of five years of age. Frodo stared into the child's grey eyes, the face a mirror image of the King, with hair as dark as Arwen's. The voice of the Queen broke off his eye contact, then the child was gone. "I have come to return what you had given me, Tithen Min" she said walking toward the hobbit with an outstretched hand, touching his forehead.

Aragorn noticed that Frodo's body became lax in his arms, his labored breathing finally settling into an even rhythm. Then a melodic tune rang throughout the room. "I have him, Estel. He will be all right while you tend him" she advised. Nodding his head, the King released his hold upon the Ring-bearer laying him out proper to treat the abdominal wound.

"What are you doing" Sam asked.

"Treating Frodo's wound. Arwen assured me he is fine" he non chalantly relayed to the stout hobbit.

"You think it wise, my Lord, in his condition" the healer asked.

Annoyed by the delay, Aragorn replied"You heard Arwen. She is holding Frodo."

"Um, beg your pardon, Strider, but Lady Arwen has not said one word since she touched me master" Sam stated matter of factly. "In fact she seems asleep herself, not even flinched one muscle."

"What? But I heard...She said..." the King said exasparated. "Oh, never mind. Master Mallos, quickly now, you have the powdered myhr" he questioned the healer.

"Yes, My Lord. It has been infusing" Mallos answered quickly, because the once chaotic feeling of the room had now become urgent as time was not on their side. The healer had no idea what the King meant when he said that the Queen "had" the Ring-bearer. Whatever it meant though, it was obvious that she did not have long to hold him.

"Sam, fetch some more cloths and soak them, and towels so that we can have a dry barrier between him and the bedding. I am afraid it has been soiled during his seizure. I do not want to break the bond between him and Arwen, so we are going to have to work around them" Aragorn said spouting off orders.

The White Wizard roamed the halls leading to the King's chambers when he was brought up short by two individuals half his height. Curly heads buried themselves into Gandalf's robes, bouncing freely as muffled voices praised his return.

"Oh, Gandalf, where have you been? Captain Faramir had been arrested and Frodo was hurt and..." Pippin blurted out without so much of thinking of what he said.

"Slow down Peregrin Took. You are not making any sense" Gandalf said as he unknowingly grabbed hold of the hobbit's injured shoulder pulling him from his cloak.

"Oi" Pippin exclaimed wrenching from the Wizard's grasp.

Gandalf had not seen the bandaged shoulder until then, his astonished look more noticeable under the bushy brows and white beard. "Please forgive me, Peregrin. What has happened here? How did you get injured"

Merry stepped forward this time as his cousin leaned in on him. "There has been an attack against the King for the release of some of Sauron's minions. The Ruffians had several people held hostage inside King Elessar's state room. They had threatened torture if Aragorn would not comply. Negotiations did not go well and Frodo was made an example of" Merry whispered, trying to clear his throat.

"Where is Frodo? Where is King Elessar" The Wizard demanded of the hobbits.

"We were just about to go there, to Sam and Frodo's room, if you want to follow. Aragorn has been in Frodo's room all morning. No word has been sent about his condition, I have been with Pippin until today. One of the Ruffian's swords nicked him in the dark. Just a flesh wound, but he is complaining it has been itching. The healer has not been back to check on Pippin's bandages this morning. So, I figure we would go see him" Merry finished telling his tale as he stood back and watched his younger cousin scratch away at the material covered shoulder.

"Very well, lead the way" Gandalf told the two hobbits as his worry over Frodo started to crease his brow.

The door had been knocked upon several times before being opened by Sam. Standing in a huff was Master Pippin and Master Merry with the most worn for wear Wizard he had seen in many months. "Oh, sirs, I was jes about to come and fetch you both. Welcome back, Gandalf, sir" Sam said wearily, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

"Gandalf" a small voice questioned from the middle of the large bed, Aragorn's body hiding the owner of it from plain view.

The White Wizard would recognize that voice at any level, and found himself relieved when he heard it. Hastily shoving past the Ring-bearer's cousins, he crossed the room finding himself staring down at the most littlest form he had ever seen. It seemed to him that his dear friend's cousin had shrunk since last seeing him not a fortnight ago. It was not his body, but the hobbit's voice that sounded like a child who had taken ill. Once rounded red cheeks were sunken in, dark circles underlined blue ocean depths, ribs protruding against thin skin and the scars were more emaciated than ever before. Frodo looked worse now than when he was rescued from Mt. Doom and he vowed to find out what happened. Schooling his anger he addressed the one lying helpless in the bed"My dear Frodo, I just returned to hear you have been up to your old tricks again. What have you gotten yourself into, my lad" Gandalf spoke softly, cupping the warm pale face within his hand, staring into the small one's eyes.

Concentrating on the old face, Frodo smiled lopsidedly"Have you seen Aragorn's son" he whispered.

Gandalf's eyes bulged at the question, his eyes seeking Aragorn, but found the Queen instead, sleeping soundly on a divan next to the Ring-bearer's bed. He could see the light glowing within her. Indeed the Elf was with child. The King's child. The fourth age of Man had begun and he would be leaving for the shores of Valinor soon. He hoped he would not be going alone. "No, I have not, my boy, but I am sure I will. Do not worry" the Wizard said softly, stroking Frodo's cheek.

"Aragorn says I have to go to sleep now. You...you will be here when I wake up" the little one asked, his heavy lids closing over blue eyes, a long sigh resounding as his head relaxed into the down pillow.

"Yes, I will be. I will sit right here until you do, my boy" Gandalf said, waiting until Frodo's breathing became even and deep signalling that he was asleep before turning his attention to the King. "What happened, Aragorn"

"It is a long story, my friend, one that I think can wait until I have had something to eat and have taken my wife back to her bed" Aragorn said. "Master Mallos, thank you for your assistance, I believe Frodo will recover without any recourse."

"Good" Merry said, listening in on the prior conversations. "Mallos, Pippin's been itcing something awful. It is driving me crazy. Can you please take a look at him" the Honary Knight of Rohan asked.

"Yes, please let me have a look Master Peregrin" the healer asked, sitting the young Knight of Gondor upon a stool, unwrapping the guaze from the upper arm. As he unwound it, the old man asked for Aragorn's opinion"My Lord"

Noticing from that distance, the same blisters had formed around the cut, but not as severe as Frodo's but suspected just as irritating even though the skin had been covered, Pippin's constant scratching had irritated the skin. "This ointment should help with the itching and burning Pippin. You have encountered the same irritation as Frodo and Sam" the King said, applying the homemade ointment onto the burning skin.

Pippin jumped at first contact, but once the ointment soaked in, the burning and itching seemed to have magically disappeared. His face slackened as he let out a long sigh.

"That better" Merry asked.

"Much. Thanks, Strider. I owe you...well, I am too tired to think of something now, but I will" the future Thain said, much gratitude in his voice.

"No need, Pippin. Just leave this on, Master Mallos will rewrap your arm. See him again in the morning for another application" Aragorn smiled, placing a hand on the opposite shoulder. "I am very grateful for all your help. I had heard you gave Faramir some pointers on the many uses of the Elven cloak. Without it, Frodo would be...well, let us not think on what could have been. You were very brave Pippin to stay put until it was safe to come and tell us what you had heard."

Speechless, Merry took the opportunity to usher his cousin out of the room and head him in the direction of their quarters with Gandalf"Thanks, Strider and I will be sure he follows your orders."

"Now" the King announced, gently lifting his sleeping wife into his arms"I think it wise to let Frodo sleep as well as Arwen recover her strength. Gandalf, would you mind staying with our dear Ring-bearer until I return, then I will tell all since you have been away."

"Yes, yes, of course. Just bring back a spot of tea and I shall sit right here anticipating your tale, for this little one has had enough pain and strife, I think, to last a lifetime" Gandalf retorted, feeling quite agitated at whom else would do harm to the shireling.

Aragorn did not take to heart the harsh sounding words. He just merely nodded before heading out the door with Arwen resting her head against his broad shoulders.

After a hurried meal, the King returned to Frodo's chambers where he found the White Wizard sitting at the bedside smoking his pipe, curls of smoke drifting throughout the room. Sam also sat in one of the chairs, but had fallen asleep probably from total exhaustion. The stout servant helped keep an eye on his master, just in case Arwen had to "release" him early. Observing that the ill hobbit still slept, Aragorn pulled up another chair and took the opportunity to tell Gandalf everything from Frodo's fall, false accusations toward Faramir, and the Ruffians who terrorized their hostages before a plan was put into motion.

Gandalf sat there, taking it all in, his eyes flickering toward Frodo whenever there was the slightest rustle of fabric, leaving noticeable teeth marks on his pipe when described the agonized scream coming from Bilbo's nephew. The old Wizard cleared his throat"You did what you thought best, my Lord. Do not blame yourself for what happened as I am sure no one else here does" Gandalf said meaning the one lying prone in the bed.

"He will not wake up for a while yet, would you perhaps like to wash up and get a bite to eat" Aragorn suggested, taking his own pipe from his pocket, lighting its contents.

"No, I am fine. I told Frodo I would be here when he awoke and here is where I'll be" Gandalf said, stubbornly kicking his feet up onto an ottoman, blowing smoke into the already cloudy room.

"Now you are getting to be just as stubborn as Sam" Aragorn smiled kicking his feet up as well, settling down into what would be a long night.

tbc...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Man of Quality Chapter 16

It was dawn, and a new day was beginning. Birds chirped and the aroma of the many kitchens cooking breakfast filled the air.

Aragorn woke with a start as he heard shuffling within the bed he was sitting next to. Frodo had slept through most of the night without complaint of pain. Shifting in his seat, dropping his feet from the bed to the floor, the King of Gondor leaned forward to peer at his patient. “Well, hullo Frodo,” Aragorn spoke softly, feeling the hobbit’s forehead and along his cheeks before pulling his hand away. “How do you feel this morning?”

Those enormous blue eyes blinked a couple of times, looking around before turning them back to his friend after a slight yawn, then “I think hungry,” Frodo said hoarsely. “And thirsty,” he again replied as he tried to clear his sticky, dry throat.

The King smiled. He marveled at how well physically the hobbits recovered, but he knew mentally this incident had set Frodo back. It was just a couple months since the Ring had been destroyed, and the beginning of Frodo’s and Sam’s period of recovery. Aragorn retrieved a cup from the dresser after pouring water from a pitcher. “Here, let me help you sit up,” the King said, as he slipped a large hand beneath Frodo’s head and shoulders, then guided the cup to the little parched mouth.

Frodo drained the cup without a second thought, but winced when he was settled back onto his pillows, his hands instinctively guarding his abdomen. The hobbit closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Aragorn was in his line of sight. The King’s face had a solemn look, almost guilty. Frodo set him straight. “It was not your fault. You did what you had to do to save your kingdom from the enemy.”

“But at what cost? To find my wife prisoner and with child. Eowyn, Sam, Pippin and yourself hurt in the process? I cannot forgive myself. Not this time.”

“You forget, I am the one who needs not to forgive myself, not the King,” Frodo tried to jest, but found that Aragorn was not going to give in easily this time. He was berating himself without just cause and it was Frodo’s turn to get through to him. “Well then, I blame you for felling me down the stairs, as well as torturing me out on the veranda. Not to mention the excruciating pain you put me through while you cleanse my wounds and having to take your awful tasting medicines. I am sick of it, and quite frankly your attitude toward the whole situation,” Frodo continued all the while as the King’s face had gone from self absorption to outright red with either embarrassment or anger. Frodo was going to continue and quieted when Aragorn placed a hand upon the hobbit’s lips.

“Are you done? Or will I have to place you under a sleeping spell?” Aragorn demanded. Frodo smiled beneath the fingers, nodding his head in response to the first question. The hobbit’s smile was contagious and the King also found himself smiling. “You are a worthy opponent, Frodo Baggins.”

“Is he up? Frodo!” a smiling, bouncing blond haired hobbit known as Pippin came into the healer’s room, finding himself right beside his prone cousin. His arm was in a sling, his overcoat slung over his shoulders for warmth.

“Pippin, I told you stay with me,” Meriadoc Brandybuck clucked like a mother hen. “You need not overtax yourself so soon. Frodo needs his rest too,” he finished, also finding himself at Frodo’s sickbed.

Tentatively, Pippin touched his elder cousin’s shoulder, “Frodo…”

“It is all over now, Pippin,” Frodo comforted, seeing his youngest cousin on the brink of tears. “I heard how brave you were as well as foolish, my young cousin,” he said with a serious tone. “If and when we see Uncle Paladin, I will have a lot to answer for and that includes any bodily marks found upon you.”

“Well, you know the legend of the Tooks, and that includes our foolishness. If Da tries to come down on you, I will just remind him of his own foolish mistakes,” he choked.

Frodo raised his arm bringing it around Pippin’s neck, hugging him fiercely. Pippin climbed onto the bed mindful of his cousin’s abdominal wound. The young Took was finally able to let out all his pent up emotions.

It was this burst of emotions from Pippin that seemed to signal to everyone that the last 48 hours were finally over. There was not a dry eye in the room.

A week later brought a banquet and a celebration to honor those who risked their lives in the rescue of the hostages, especially the newly pregnant Queen of Gondor.

The King waltzed into the banquet hall with his Queen hanging onto his left arm. Both were dressed in royal blue, silver coronets balanced on each dark head. They were led to the head of the main banquet table, where they stood next to Faramir and Eowyn to the Queen’s left and on the King’s right sat Pippin, Frodo, Merry and Sam followed by Legolas and Gimli. Gandalf sat next to Eomer. When Aragorn and Arwen sat, the guests followed suit.

Paiges were filling the guests cups with proper ale and spirits. After all had been filled, Aragorn stood and raised his glass. The hall became quiet as those grey eyes roamed familiar faces. He cleared his throat and began to speak, “Welcome honored guests and friends of Gondor. We are gathered tonight to pay respect and honor those who were injured and those who lost their lives in the recent attack against your King and your city. Those that have departed us into the hereafter will sorely be missed. Let us bow our heads in a moment of silence,” Aragorn said. After a brief prayer in Sindarin, he raised his head and resumed his speech. “To those that were injured trying to rescue our hostages,” Aragorn looked particularly fondly at Pippin after this remark, “We owe many thanks and quick healing,” he continued as he smiled and drank from his cup.

“Here, here!” the gathered audience replied and also drank from their goblets with their King.

There would not be a day from that moment on that Faramir was ever treated differently and was an honored member of the “Fellowship”. He had definitely showed his quality as a man and his fealty to the new King remained as loyal as it had always been.

As for Frodo, Faramir and he grew closer as friends, mending a friendship that had a rocky start.