~ Down the Old Road ~

“Merry!”

Pippin’s fading cry far behind him caught Merry’s attention and stopped him from running. He turned around and started to follow the sound. Merry’s surprise at the shout and the total silence following it changed to panic as he spotted his younger cousin’s body sprawling on the ground. Merry could not see Pippin’s face as it was buried in the dirt. He knew at once that Pippin was unconscious.

“Pip!” Breathed Merry with great difficulty, being out of breath himself. “Hang on! I’m coming!” And he dropped on his knees beside his dear cousin, carefully turning him over. Pippin’s face was dirt-stained, as expected, but the dampness on his cheeks aroused Merry’s suspicion that the wretched lad had been crying. Oh, thought Merry miserably. Pippin must have pushed himself over his own limit to catch up with the rest of them. And it was not just the roots that had to be blamed for Pippin’s falling over. He must have been too weary to manage his steps as he ran.

Merry brushed Pippin’s locks away from his face, his fingers gently rubbing the dirt away. He patted the hobbit’s cheek gently to bring Pippin back to consciousness. Pippin did stir but he did not awaken immediately. His eyes moved behind his lids in he moaned softly. Suddenly his face contorted as if in pain.

“Aaahh!” He whimpered softly, hands reaching down to his feet.

“Pippin?” Merry frowned in puzzlement. His gaze traveled down to Pippin’s rapidly swelling ankle. “Oh, Pip! You’re hurt!” Merry gave Pippin another gentle slap but the hobbit did not seem aware of it all. Merry looked up in despair and called out, “Strider!”

Sam had known there was something strange happening when he no longer felt Merry’s presence behind him and he was about to turn back when he heard the scream. Merry’s voice sounded petrified and Sam echoed his calling to the ranger who had been many paces ahead.

“Strider! Wait!”

Sam ran to the direction of Merry’s voice once he was sure Strider had heard him.

“It’s Pippin,” Merry gasped as Sam and Strider reached his side. “He twisted his ankle and fell, and now he won’t wake up.”

Strider pulled Merry up and knelt in his place. He took out his flask of water and poured a little of the contents into his hand, sprinkling it on Pippin’s pain-stricken face. The hobbit inhaled sharply and his eyes snapped open.

“What happened?” His voice was weak and indistinct partly because of the water going into his mouth and nose. “Please wait for me.” He was babbling, but then the pain in his leg brought him back to full awareness.

“Ouch, my foot!”

“Yes,” responded Strider gravely. “Your ankle doesn’t look good. We need to do something about it.” The ranger got up and motioned Sam to come to him. The gardener approached him with a questioning and worried look.

“Do you know of athelas?” Asked Strider.

“Athelas sir?”

“Kingsfoil.”

“Kingsfoil! It’s a kind of weed. What do want it for?”

“It’s a healing herb. I’ll be able to make Pippin feel better if I wrap some of it around his injury. Go find it, Sam.”

Sam nodded readily though his heart regretted what had happened. The longer they were held here, the more threatened his master’s life would be. He just hoped Pippin’s injury wasn’t serious.

“Aye sir,” Sam replied and started to head toward the nearby bushes. Kingsfoil was an ordinary weed. He was sure he could find a few clumps of it about the area.

The gardener was right. He successfully gathered enough bunches of athelas and handed them to the ranger, who in the mean time had finished tearing strips off a blanket to be made into bandages.

“Well met, Sam. Thank you very much.” He received the leaves without looking up, and after squeezing them a little until a sap – like substance began to drip from them, placed the weed on Pippin’s swollen ankle. Pippin gasped a little in surprise but calmed down as the coldness the weed soothed the pain. He remained quiet as Strider wrapped the cloth around the ankle and tied it securely.

“There,” Strider stood up while Sam and Merry helped Pippin sit up. The younger hobbit leaned against Merry’s shoulder as dizziness struck him. “We should get going,” continued the ranger. “But seeing you like this, I think it’s better if I carry you along the way.”

Pippin sighed in relief. He could not imagine having to walk again, or even to move.

“Thank you Strider,” he whispered and tightened his arms around the man’s neck as the latter gently lifted him up and cradled Pippin on his chest. The hobbit sighed, his heart lightening at the sight of the slight smile on the ranger’s face.

“Let’s go. We can’t keep Frodo waiting longer.”

And the others could not agree more.

* * *

~ At the Clearing of the Forest ~

The mist faded bit by bit and Gandalf became clearer to Frodo, even with his eyes close. Frodo felt peaceful but he also wanted to cry. For the first time after the day this nightmare began he felt safe. Now he had someone who could protect him and probably even help him out of this trial.

Trial? Frodo almost choked at his own choice of word. This was no laughing matter and he might not survive this at all. His mind went to his other half and wondered why he had not yet felt any pains he had got so used to he felt strange with the absence of them. Sauron might have got tired of Frodo, perchance, and started to ignore him.

Warmth brushed over his cheek and he, still in his dreaming world, opened his eyes. Gandalf. The wizard was still with him. It was not a dream. Frodo’s struggle against crying broke down and tears streamed down freely.

“Gandalf,” Frodo breezed. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, my child,” replied him with a tender voice. “Are you still in pain?”

Frodo shook his head dreamily. He indeed did not feel the pain at all. His life might be in peril but he was beyond pain. Gandalf knew Frodo was not lying.

“I will bring you now to Rivendell, Frodo lad. Lord Elrond will be able to bring you back.”

“Bring me back?”

“Yes, Frodo. Bring you back from the shadow world. That is why you are incognizant of your own feeling. You are fading, Frodo.”

“Fading?”

“The Ringwraith stabbed you and he used a deadly knife to do that. Now either we head as fast as possible to Rivendell or you slowly turn into them.”

Fading.

Frodo fell silent. Was that the explanation why Sauron had not done anything yet to his half? Here he was fading and the same thing happened to his spirit in Mordor.

Gandalf was worried with Frodo’s silence and pushing a little harder, his mind sent another question to the hobbit.

“The Ring. Is it safe with you?”

The wizard took a deep breath in relief when Frodo gave his reply, but not when he heard it.

“No. It’s with Sam.”

“Sam? Why?” The answer made Gandalf feel uneasy. What had really happened? But Frodo answered it lightly.

“It’s Strider who took It from me and gave It to him. It’s understandable. I was about to surrender It to the wraiths.”

What? Contrary to Frodo, Gandalf did not think it light at all. Frodo wanted to give the Ring to the Nazguls? Had Gandalf misjudged the hobbit’s attitude? That was not possible, thought Gandalf. He knew Frodo very well and he was sure something terrible must have happened to think that the hobbit thought to surrender It to the enemies.

Then Gandalf remembered the vision he had when he was still captive in Isengard. He saw Frodo was captured by Sauron, yet he was facing the hobbit right here and now.

“I have to submit the Ring to Sauron, Gandalf.” Frodo’s voice sounded lost, tired, and defeated. “Otherwise he will torture my spirit he keeps in Barad-dur.”

Now Gandalf felt defeated, too. Frodo’s explanation only caused Gandalf to lose more in a fog, but Gandalf knew whatever Sauron had done was possible to happen.

Gandalf took Frodo and carried him in his arms. The limp form of Frodo’s unconscious body deepened Gandalf’s sorrow. He hoped the mind conversation they were having did not tire the hobbit a lot.

“That makes it more urgent to bring you to Rivendell,” Gandalf added. “We have to heal you so we can safe your captured spirit.”

But Frodo’s instantaneous answer started him so.

“No! Don’t!” And this time Frodo was not only speaking in his mind. The reply thundered out of his small lips and both his hands grabbed tightly at Gandalf’s upper arms. The wizard was surprised, though, to see that Frodo’s eyes were still clenched shut.

Frodo’s explanation to his shocking exclamation sent Gandalf to a difficult situation.

“If you cure me, the part that is in Sauron’s clutches will be visible and that will make it possible to torment me again. I can’t take it anymore, Gandalf. I’d rather die. I’d rather… become a wraith. Let me be. The Ring is safe. I know Sam can manage.”

Gandalf’s heart sank at the heartrending plea.

TBC