AVALANCHE

Chapter 13 --- Mad Baggins

"Just put me up on there, and let's see if it bears my weight."

"All right, but be careful." Near the rim of their sheltered ledge, where a trail had once been visible, Aragorn lifted Merry as high as he could, and set the hobbit down on top of the ice-covered snow. In the early morning light it could be seen that the trail had disappeared under drifted mounds of newly-fallen snow, crusted over by the freezing night. Wondering anew how the hobbits could stand on snow and ice without freezing the bottoms of their feet, Aragorn very slowly let go of Merry, who took a few tentative steps.

"See? Maybe you Big Folk can wade through it somehow, and the rest of us can just---"

Merry's words were cut off as with a crack, the thin layer of ice beneath his feet suddenly gave way, sending him plummeting down into the soft snow beneath. He disappeared from sight.

"Help!"

Aragorn and Gandalf pushed through the drift of snow until they located the sputtering, squirming hobbit and pulled him to safety.

"There's our answer," said Aragorn, brushing off the snow-covered Merry. "We will have to break a trail through this."

Boromir had been peering thoughtfully up the mountain, then back down. "It should at least be somewhat easier making our way back down rather than fighting through this all the way to the top," he said. "Perhaps you and I can---"

"Let me UP, Samwise Gamgee!"

Aragorn turned calmly to Boromir. "Remember what you were saying last night, about how Frodo seems to be a frail one?"

"Yes."

The Ranger chuckled. "It's a new day, Boromir." He turned and visibly braced himself for battle before walking back to where Frodo was struggling to sit up and Sam was holding him down with, it seemed, just two fingers. Aragorn sat down next to Frodo, who lay glaring at Sam.

"Aragorn, I cannot lay here another second. We've been here for two days, as far as I can remember, and we have to get out of here!" Frodo made another futile effort to sit up; this time Sam only needed one finger to push him back down.

"I agree, Frodo, and we're working on it," Aragorn said. He turned to Sam. "Well done, Sam. Now why don't you bring Frodo all the food you can carry. It's time this hobbit started eating again." Sam got to his feet with a grin and walked off a few feet to where the packs were piled up.

Frodo frowned up at Aragorn. "What do you mean, 'we're working on it'?"

"It's the storm. We have to clear away a lot of snow from the trail before we can leave."

"What storm?"

Aragorn smiled at him. "You more or less slept right through it, I think. All right, if you're so eager to sit up, we might as well try. Easy does it."

Before Frodo could ask what 'more or less' meant, Aragorn was folding back the blankets and raising him very slowly into a sitting position. It wasn't slow enough, as Frodo felt everything start to tilt and spin once again. He closed his eyes and leaned weakly against Aragorn's chest.

"Oh."

"Frodo---"

"Just... just give me a second," Frodo murmured. It was closer to a minute before he felt he could safely open his eyes and look up at the Ranger. "I think you're right, I definitely need to eat something."

"That'll help," agreed Aragorn. He touched Frodo's brow and was relieved to find the fever nearly gone. "How's the headache?"

"It's still there," Frodo sighed. "The pain isn't as bad, it's more like a throbbing. And this is a bit better." He touched his broken wrist. "Maybe I can..." He tried wiggling his fingers a little and gasped at the sharp pain the small movements caused.

"Maybe you shouldn't try that again for a few days," said Aragorn. "I'll see if I can make you something to take for the pain that isn't strong enough to put you to sleep." Sam plopped down beside them, his arms laden with cheese and bread and dried meats. "That's fine, Sam. Make sure he--- "

"I want to stand up."

"Frodo---"

"Just for a moment, Aragorn, please. I need to know I can do it."

Aragorn sighed, knowing that if he were in Frodo's place he would be asking the same thing. "All right. I'm going to do this very slowly, and let me do all the work." He got to his knees, then pulled Frodo upright with almost infinite slowness, keeping a firm hold on him. Frodo had to keep his eyes closed as the dizziness and headache intensified, but it felt wonderful to be standing again, if just briefly.

"That's enough for now." Aragorn eased him back down to a sitting position. Frodo was wearing neither jacket nor cloak, and the Ranger wrapped him back up in the blankets before he became chilled.

"I'll need at least one hand if you expect me to eat!"

Aragorn chuckled and helped Frodo wriggle his right arm free of the blankets, then motioned Gimli over. "Gimli, would you be so kind as to sit with Frodo for awhile while I prepare something for him? He still needs a bit of assistance."

"Of course, of course!" Gimli sat down and Frodo relaxed against him, a bit worried that he couldn't stand up on his own yet. He had also just realized that he didn't have on the same pair of breeches he remembered wearing when all this started, but decided he'd rather not know all the details of the past two days. Not yet, anyway.

"Master Baggins, you seem much better this morning."

"Thank you, Gimli." Frodo found that if he didn't move too suddenly, the dizziness was manageable. He began to apply himself to the food with enthusiasm, Sam assisting him in his one-handed attempts. "I'm sorry everyone had to stay here so long."

"This was certainly not your fault," said Gimli. "Besides, it has been extremely... interesting."

"Has it?"

When Gimli seemed unwilling to elaborate, Frodo turned to Sam. "How's Bill?" he asked, his mouth full of cheese.

"He's fine. He seems uncommonly fond of those bushes over there; I doubt there'll be any left when we leave!"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Sam," said Frodo contritely.

"Don't be, Mr. Frodo," said Sam with a grin. "I'd much rather have you awake and squawkin' than lyin' so pale and still!"

After awhile Merry came over carrying a mug, Pippin trailing behind him.

"Strider said you should drink this," said Merry. Frodo took the mug in his right hand and Merry helped him hold it. "He said it would help with the pain."

"Why do you have snow in your hair?"

"There's an awful lot of it out out there." Merry brushed more snow off and noticed the nearly empty plates and crumb-covered cloths scattered about. He grinned. "You're still dreadfully pale, Frodo, but it looks like you don't need to be forced to eat anymore!"

"You're right," said Frodo. "I was starving, Mer." He smiled at Pippin, who had settled down close beside him.

Merry watched Frodo take a few sips, then he gazed mournfully at Pippin, who had discovered an uneaten piece of bread. "I can't stand this much longer, Pip. Strider's right, this is contrary to nature." He turned to Frodo with a sigh. "Do you think he'll ever talk again?"

"Of course he will, Mer, he has to. After all..." Frodo looked at Pippin thoughtfully, a strange notion taking shape in his head. Sam had filled him in on how gently they had all been treating Pippin, but Frodo wondered if it wasn't time to try something else. Pippin was a pure-blooded Took, and a bloodline like that could not be denied. Maybe pride could accomplish what nothing else had.

"After all," Frodo continued casually, "he's to be the 31st Thain of the Shire someday." He winked at Merry and waited, practically holding his breath. Silence. He took a few more sips of the strange-tasting drink.

A longer silence. Then...

"Thirty-second," said a tiny, muffled voice.

Merry gasped. Frodo could hardly keep from whooping with joy, but with an effort he kept his voice neutral. "Are you sure, Pip?" he asked. "I'm certain Bilbo said that Uncle Paladin is the 30th Thain."

Pippin had not looked up, but he was starting to shift restlessly.

Then another, barely audible response. "Bilbo was wrong."

"Well now, I suppose you would know best," said Frodo. He handed the mug back to an ecstatic Merry and placed a finger under Pippin's chin. He lifted his cousin's distressed face up to meet his. "Thirty-second it is, then."

Merry was watching Pippin carefully, Sam was staring at Frodo in rapt admiration, and Gimli was shaking with silent mirth.

As Pippin studied Frodo's smiling face, comprehension dawned. "You... you knew that..."

"Did I? Goodness, maybe I did. Sorry, Pip, but what else do you expect from a Baggins? We're all supposed to be quite mad, you know."

Pippin started breathing fast, in shallow gulps, looking as if he was about to explode. "Oh, Frodo," he gasped. "You were hurt and I wanted to help you, I really really did, but I was so frightened and I couldn't move, I couldn't..." He suddenly ran out of breath and burst into tears.

"It's all right, Pip, I know you wanted to help." Frodo pulled his young cousin close in utter relief and Pippin clung to him, shaking and sobbing, feeling as if the whole mountain had just lifted off his shoulders. Slowly he became aware of the awkward way Frodo was holding him. He shifted slightly and gently touched Frodo's bandaged wrist.

"Does it hurt a lot?" he whispered through his tears.

It sure does, Frodo thought.

"Every time I hear your voice it hurts a little less."

"Really?" Pippin's voice, muffled against Frodo's shirt, was still barely audible. "Should... should I tell you a story?"

"Would you? Wait a moment, Aragorn wanted me to drink this." Frodo took the mug back from Merry. Although he was trying to hide it, ever since he had stood up, his headache had been growing worse. He drank down the rest of the herbal brew and hoped it would be strong enough. He eased Pippin down onto the blanket, and Gimli settled him down beside him before leaving the hobbits alone, a big smile on his face. "Keep talking, Pip, so I don't fall asleep."

"I'll tell you all about... about the Tooks. I think I can name all the Thains."

"You do that, Pip, and it'll put him to sleep for sure," said Merry. As much as he wanted to grab Pippin and wrestle him into the nearest snow drift in relief and joy (and anger for scaring him so), he sensed he should leave him alone with Frodo for awhile. There still seemed something fragile about his cousin; something not quite "Pippin" yet. As Pippin began to whisper names and dates to Frodo, Merry slowly got up and backed away, stumbling into Boromir and Aragorn who stood nearby, listening to the recitation with delight. Aragorn put his arm around Merry, who leaned against him in relief.

"Frodo's pretty smart," whispered Merry.

"Yes he is," said Aragorn, also keeping his voice down. "It's a good beginning, Merry, but there are things to be dealt with yet. What's the matter, Boromir?"

Boromir looked at Aragorn, then at Merry, deeply perplexed. "What in the world is a Thain?"

** TBC **