AVALANCHE

Chapter 11 --- Little One

Frodo drifted through a hazy twilight, dimly aware of pain, arms around him, Sam's voice... Everything slid away for awhile, then he felt himself being lifted, slowly brought to a sitting position. He was rested up against someone and a strong arm held him. He waited for the swirling darkness to swallow him up again, but instead, the haze thinned and grew brighter. He felt heat on his face, but he was cold, so cold. Someone was touching his cheek, calling his name. Bright, hot. Why was it so bright?

"Frodo," Aragorn urged. "Frodo, I need you to wake up." With his left arm securely around the hobbit, he patted Frodo's cheek with his right hand and bent close. "Wake now, Frodo. Come, little one, wake up."

Frodo groaned and opened his eyes to... he wasn't sure. Although he had thought he was waking, what he saw convinced him that he had not. Pippin stood before him, wreathed in brilliant light, holding Gandalf's staff. That would never happen. It was snowing, but the sun seemed to be shining. That was rather odd, as well. Such a strange, vivid dream... The light burned into his aching head.

"Too bright..."

"Pippin, move a bit so the light isn't right in Frodo's eyes."

Even wrapped in blankets, Frodo was shivering. "C. . Cold..." He felt a mug pressed to his lips, and smelled something... soup...

"You need to drink this, Frodo, it will help warm you. Nice and slow."

Frodo swallowed the warm, thick broth. It tasted wonderful. He tried to bring his right hand up out of the blankets, to hold the mug himself, but he couldn't move. His limbs felt heavy. To one side he saw Legolas adjusting a blanket that was draped around Gimli, who was sound asleep. He now knew without a doubt that he was dreaming. Snow and sun... and Pippin with a wizard's staff... He finished the broth, only half aware he was doing so.

"Strange dream," he murmured.

"Are you sure he's awake?" asked Sam, concerned.

"Yes, Sam, although I suspect he's not sure." Aragorn chuckled, realizing how unusual the scene before Frodo's eyes must look. "If you woke up to see Pippin holding Gandalf's staff, you might think you were dreaming as well!" He held out the empty mug and Sam took it. "Would you make more of this? Lots of the broth mixture, more than usual, and the warmest water you can find."

Aragorn found that his small charge had closed his eyes again and was starting to sag limply against him, still shivering.

"Frodo, stay awake," he urged. The hobbit slowly opened his eyes again.

"Dizzy..."

"I know you want to sleep, Frodo, but you're not warm enough yet. You must stay awake a little longer." Aragorn took the mug Sam was holding out to him and held it to Frodo's lips. "Drink more, that's it."

Frodo slowly drank the thick soup, this second mugful almost hot. It felt so good to have something warm inside him. The heat radiating from the staff and the warm broth finally began to lessen the deep, shuddering chills shaking his body. Aragorn kept urging him to drink until the second mug was empty as well.

"Now some water," the Ranger said, bringing a water bottle up to replace the mug. Frodo obediently took a few swallows of the warmed water, just barely awake and wondering what would happen next. He watched dream-Pippin hand the staff back to dream-Gandalf. Frodo was a bit disappointed that the wizard didn't turn Pippin into a toad (or something even more interesting) for taking his staff, but it didn't matter. There seemed to be no danger lurking in this dream, just lovely warm light and images that made little sense.

"Frodo, do you want to use the cup again? Like before?"

Frodo thought about it. "All right." He didn't feel any embarrassment this time, not in front of dream-companions who would soon dissolve into nothingness. Aragorn settled him down on his lap into a half-lying position and Frodo heard soft voices. Being moved had made everything spin, and by the time the whirling settled down somewhat, Aragorn had unwrapped him from all but one blanket. This time it was Legolas who reached under the blanket and gently pushed down his breeches, and maneuvered the cup into position. Aragorn once again supported his bottom, his fingers warm and gentle, and Frodo relaxed and relieved himself.

Aragorn chuckled. "That was easy. Now I know he thinks this is all a dream." Legolas pulled the small breeches back up and assisted Aragorn in re-wrapping Frodo in the layers of blankets.

"Is he all right now, Strider? He's stopped shaking."

"He's much warmer, Sam." Aragorn wasn't sure if Frodo felt warm because of the heat and layers of blankets, or if his fever was rising, but at least the chills had subsided. "He can sleep soon, but I'd like to keep him awake a few more minutes. Perhaps we can keep him talking, or---"

"I will talk with him," said Legolas. He sat close to Frodo, still lying in Aragorn's lap, and stroked his face gently. "Are you with us, tithen min?"

"Little one," Frodo repeated sleepily.

"Do you wish me to stop calling you that?"

Frodo looked up at dream-Legolas. "I...I asked Aragorn once if he wanted Merry, Pippin, and Sam to stop calling him 'Strider'," he murmured. Sam and Merry exchanged looks; this was news to them. Pippin, leaning against Boromir, strained to hear.

Frodo continued in a soft, sleepy voice, not at all concerned about what he was saying or which of these dream people was listening. "Aragorn said that in his life he had been called more noble names... with less affection and respect... and that he did not mind. I do not mind either, Legolas. I know you don't... I know you don't mean any..." He winced as the throbbing in his head started to grow worse. He was tired and dizzy, and didn't want to talk anymore. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Legolas looked up. "I do not believe he can stay awake any longer, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded. "We've done what we can. There should be less danger in letting him sleep now." Aragorn smiled at Sam. "Perhaps less danger, as well, of him saying something else he'd probably rather not." Sam blushed, and Merry suddenly found it very important to re-arrange the position of some of the water bottles.

The Elf bent over Frodo. He could see that the hobbit was exhausted and in pain, and he wished he could take it all away from him. "Little one..." Frodo smiled, hearing the phrase, and Legolas smiled back. "You can sleep now, little one. You did very well. Sleep now." Frodo sighed and closed his eyes, letting the strange dream fade and dissolve.

Aragorn pressed his fingers lightly to Frodo's throat and noted his deep, even breathing. When he was certain Frodo was asleep, he eased the hobbit down off his lap and folded the blankets away from the hurt left arm.

"This is a good time to see to his wrist," said Aragorn, easing Frodo's bandaged wrist out of the sling. He carefully unwrapped the cloths and removed the splints. The tiny wrist was discolored and swollen, but Aragorn seemed satisfied.

"There is not as much swelling," he said to Sam, "and there is no heat or redness in the arm." He replaced the splints and began to re-wrap the cloths. Suddenly Merry was at his side.

"Do you truly not mind when we call you Strider?" Merry asked, concerned. "I never thought about---"

Aragorn looked at him sternly. "You may call me 'Aragorn' when you are very, very angry with me," he said. He smiled suddenly. "Is that clear, Meriadoc?"

Merry grinned, then laughed. "It certainly is... Strider."

Aragorn chuckled, continuing to bind up Frodo's wrist. "I'm glad that's settled." He finished and sat up, looking around. The storm gave no sign of ending anytime soon.

"Strider," said Sam urgently. Aragorn looked at him. "How is he?"

Aragorn hesitated for a moment, which made Sam wonder what he was about to hear. Everyone was listening.

"His wrist just needs time to heal, Sam," Aragorn began. "It's a clean break with no complications. Time is also the best medicine for any head injury. He needs rest, and we need to keep him warm and well tended." He smiled. "By tomorrow I suspect he will be much improved, and insist he is well enough to travel, but we should only resume our journey tomorrow if we are hard-pressed to do so." He sighed. "Even if we are able to give Frodo another full day of rest, it will be barely enough time for him to recover enough to travel. But we dare not delay any longer than that."

Sam was watching Aragorn closely, and he wasn't satisfied. "There's something else, isn't there?"

"Yes, Sam. It's this storm... the cold." Aragorn looked around, and realized it was time to share his thoughts with everyone. "Frodo has a slight fever, and he must not get chilled again. Since he can't move around, or eat too much yet, he doesn't have the energy to stay warm and fight off the cold; we will have to do that for him. All of his energy must go toward healing, and regaining his strength. But even when we can travel again, whether it is tomorrow or the day after, there is a good chance of more storms higher up on the mountain. And it will be even colder. I'm beginning to think..."

"What?"

Aragorn glanced at Gandalf, and then back at Sam. "I think we need to get Frodo off this mountain."

** TBC **