AVALANCHE

Chapter 16 --- Recoveries and Revelations

The gear was packed. Sam had just eased Frodo's hurt wrist into his jacket sleeve and was helping him on with the jacket when Aragorn came over and sat down next to Frodo, carrying a flask in one hand and a small cup in the other. Frodo looked warily from the flask to Aragorn's face.

"Frodo---" Aragorn began.

"No."

Sam sighed and settled back. Whatever it was Strider wanted, he wasn't going to get it.

"I wasn't trying to listen, Aragorn, but I heard some of what you told Boromir," said Frodo. "I don't care how fast we have to descend; I've slept enough."

The Ranger smiled. "After all these years of living with Elves and their keen hearing, I still have not learned to speak quietly enough!" He grew more serious. "Frodo, I want you to listen to me. It's too soon for you to travel, but we have no choice. No matter who carries you, every step is going to cause you pain."

Frodo sighed and tried to joke. "How would that sound in the tales, if the Ringbearer had to be carried, sleeping, across the whole of Middle-earth?" He saw Legolas smile and turn away, and realized that he was speaking too loudly. "I feel so helpless, Aragorn," he said more quietly. "I need to stay awake, to see what's happening, to be able to defend myself."

"I hardly think you will need this mixture after today," said Aragorn, holding up the flask. "You will fare well enough once we reach level ground once more, but we must descend quickly and hope to avoid detection. There will be concealment once we reach the path we will tread to... where we are going next, but on the mountain there is none. This day will be hard on all of us, but for you..."

Frodo shook his head slightly. "The headache's not too bad. If it gets worse, or I'm slowing everyone down, then... we'll see. All right?"

"All right." Aragorn chuckled a bit. "So that is all you hobbits care about, is it? Hearing heroic tales sung about you? I should have known!" Glad to see a real smile light up Frodo's face, he draped the sling around Frodo's wrist and fastened his cloak about him. He pulled Frodo into his arms and rose to his feet, looking around. "We're ready to start."

Before Aragorn could say a word about who might carry whom, he noticed that Pippin had virtually attached himself to Boromir. Aragorn nodded to Boromir with a smile, and Boromir knelt down. In an instant, Pippin had wrapped his arms around Boromir's neck and his legs around the Man's waist. As Boromir stood up he heard a whisper in his ear. "Thank you, Boromir. Thank you for... for..."

"You are most welcome, my friend," answered Boromir quietly. "We must all look out for each other." He patted the tiny hands clasped in front of him. "I will need my hands to clear more snow, so you must hold on tight."

Legolas walked lightly to the top of the nearest snow drift, and bent to take Frodo from Aragorn. Holding Frodo gently but securely in his arms, the Elf walked on top of the snow in his usual fluid fashion. Avoiding the ups and downs of the drifts that still obscured the trail would give Frodo the smoothest possible ride.

Aragorn, carrying Sam, went first along the trail, followed by Boromir with Pippin, then Gandalf carrying Merry on his back. Hoping that the trail would be clear enough for them, Gimli followed, leading Bill. Without the bundles of wood and much of the food that had been strapped to him, the patient pony was now laden with the packs of Aragorn, Boromir, Frodo, and Gandalf.

The whole enterprise went more smoothly than any had anticipated, reaching the end of the deep drifts in less than half an hour. The three hobbits were set back down, and everyone except for Frodo shouldered their packs once again.

Sam stroked Bill's nose and leaned against the pony briefly. "Thank you Bill," he said softly. "That was a fair load to carry, wasn't it?" He looked up. "How are you doing, Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo, still in Legolas's arms, had quickly begun to realize that Aragorn had been correct; in the half hour since starting out, his headache had been growing, it seemed, with every step Legolas took. He could bear it; he had to.

"Fine, Sam," Frodo said, trying to smile. "Don't worry about me."

The Company set out on their long descent of Caradhras. Frodo closed his eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing and dizziness, but only 15 minutes after their short break, they were both increasing in intensity. He was unaware how tightly he was gripping Legolas's tunic and was only vaguely aware when the Elf stopped walking. Something was being discussed, and he felt a hand on his cheek.

"Frodo." Aragorn's soft voice penetrated the haze and Frodo opened his eyes.

"There is no need for this; you have endured enough." Aragorn pressed the small cup to Frodo's lips. Frodo tried to turn away, but Aragorn spoke quietly, urging him to drink. Frodo swallowed a bit of the liquid, recognizing the same strange drink Legolas had given him that first night after he was hurt. But this was stronger -- much stronger, and more bitter.

"More," said Aragorn. "Drink it all, little one."

Frodo finally relented and finished the cupful; he was slowing them down, and he knew it. More quickly than the first time, he felt that odd floating sensation, and his thoughts slowed and swirled. He tried to stay awake, but barely had time to notice that the pain was fading before he lost consciousness.

Aragorn watched as Frodo tried to fight the effects of the powerful draught, but in less than a minute Frodo's eyes fluttered closed. His small hand, still gripping Legolas's tunic, relaxed and fell to his side as he went limp in Legolas's arms. The Elf looked up in amazement.

"I knew not that any herb could work this quickly."

Aragorn was checking Frodo's pulse. "The herb masters of Rivendell have had thousands of years to cultivate and learn of the healing plants. They were generous with their knowledge --- and their supplies."

"So stubborn," Legolas sighed.

"A tenacious spirit makes for a troublesome patient, to be sure," Aragorn said with a chuckle, "but a formidable Ringbearer."

Gandalf came up to them, eyeing Frodo with concern. "I will take him for awhile, Legolas." He reached out and gathered the hobbit into his arms, then scanned the mountain with a keen eye. "I believe this was wise, Aragorn. We must make haste. How long will he sleep?"

The Ranger smiled ruefully. He always used the word 'sleep' when the other hobbits were close enough to hear him, and it was usually an accurate word, but he knew that this time Frodo was truly unconscious and would feel nothing for quite some time. "Many hours, but I cannot say exactly how long. I treat an injured hobbit as I would a child of similar size, but each person reacts differently. And this..." He kneeled to put the cup and flask away in his pack. "This is as strong a draught as I dare give him; stronger than he expected, I daresay." He picked up the wizard's staff and stood up, smiling. "Shall I give this to Pippin to hold for you?"

Gandalf laughed out loud. "Perhaps we risk enough on this journey without finding out what that imp might make of such an opportunity!"

*~*~*~*~*

"...know I'm right, Boromir... not your fault that we've had a longer... I'm sure Mardil was very..." Frodo slowly awoke to the sound of Pippin's voice, feeling warmer than he had in days. He felt... better. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying, wrapped in blankets, on what appeared to be a somewhat level, grassy area. The Company appeared to be well down the mountain, but not fully to the bottom, as yet. Small patches of snow dotted the ground, as well as soggy depressions where the snow was melting into a muddy slush.

Pippin and Boromir were sitting nearby, Pippin talking at a great rate and Boromir listening to him with an exasperated look on his face. Much of the Company sat nearby, talking amongst themselves or listening to Pippin. Legolas and Aragorn were standing a little apart, watching the evening stars appear and talking in low voices.

"...so if you think about all the Thains that have---" Pippin stopped talking and gasped with joy. "Frodo!" Seeing that his cousin was awake, Pippin leaped up and would have thrown himself on top of Frodo had Boromir not grabbed him and pulled him back down. "You're awake! Are you hungry? How do you feel? Let me go, Boromir!"

Frodo laughed and slowly sat up, marveling that he was able to do so on his own.

"It's all right, Boromir, you can let him go," Frodo said. The Man released his hold on the young hobbit, who fairly flew to Frodo's side and plopped down next to him.

"Who's Mardil?" Frodo asked.

"Oh no," Merry groaned. "Don't start him up again."

"He was the first Steward of Gondor," Pippin said, ignoring his cousin's impudence. "Apparently, Frodo, the Shire has had stewards longer than Gondor." He grinned triumphantly at Boromir. "Isn't that right?"

Boromir sighed. "Apparently. Frodo, your cousin has spent the last hour--- "

"Longer," moaned Merry.

"---or longer, comparing Gondorian years to Shire Reckoning years, and figuring out that he is deserving of much more respect, having descended from a longer line of Stewards than have I. It's been quite... educational."

"It was more like two or three hours," muttered Sam.

"Remember how nice and quiet Pip was?" Merry plucked a blade of dried grass and chewed on it. "Seems like only yesterday."

Frodo looked into Pippin's lively, buoyant face and couldn't help but smile. He could only think of one thing, aside from hitting him with a mallet, that could keep Pippin quiet for a few minutes.

"Pip, could you get me something to eat? Or didn't you leave me anything, you rascal?" Pippin immediately leaped up again and scurried over to the piled-up packs, where he began tearing through them.

"So much energy," chuckled Gandalf. "You're right, Merry, it was nice and quiet there for awhile, wasn't it?"

"Hmmph," muttered Pippin, returning to Frodo's side with his arms full of bags and packets. "They've been this grouchy for hours, Frodo. You were smart to stay asleep."

"So it was hours," said Sam, pulling a few packs together so Frodo could sit against them. "I knew it."

As Frodo began to eat, with Pippin alternately talking, nibbling, and talking, Legolas and Aragorn rejoined the group.

"How do you feel, Frodo?" asked Aragorn.

Frodo was tempted to scold the Ranger for giving him such a strong sleep-drink, but he felt so much better he decided not to. "You did the right thing," he admitted. "I feel a lot better. I still have a headache, but it's not nearly as bad as it was." He scratched a bit at the cloths wrapped around his left wrist. "This still hurts, but I suppose it will be mending for awhile."

"For awhile," agreed Aragorn with a smile. "But hobbits mend so fast, I wouldn't be surprised if 'awhile' comes sooner rather than later." He glanced at Legolas, then his gaze took in the rest of the group. "Legolas and I will go hunting early in the morning. There are a lot of animal tracks about." He looked sternly at Pippin. "That is, if every beast from here to Rohan hasn't been been driven off by now." Pippin blushed and hung his head, and in so doing spied a piece of uneaten cheese near Frodo's hand.

Aragorn continued, "I would prefer that we not be separated, but our supplies are running low."

"Has everything been quiet?" asked Frodo.

"It has been a long, hard day," answered Gimli, "but it would be inaccurate to say it has been 'quiet'." He, too, looked pointedly at Pippin. "Perhaps a better word is 'uneventful'." Frodo noticed that the Dwarf was also trying to look stern, but his twinkling eyes betrayed him.

"I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow," Frodo said to Aragorn. "I won't have to be carried, I don't think."

"Why don't you use a walking stick?" asked Pippin. "Maybe Gandalf would loan you his staff, Frodo. After all, you're the only one who didn't get a turn."

"A turn at what, Pip?"

Sam and Merry both tried to motion Pippin to stop talking, but he didn't notice.

"A turn holding his staff," continued Pippin. "We all got to hold it except for you, so maybe tomorrow you can---"

"Are you telling me that really happened?" Frodo's thoughts flew back to his odd, vivid dream. "You were holding Gandalf's staff, and there was all this light, and I... and it wasn't..." Frodo stared at Pippin, who was nodding vigorously, then at everyone else, a look of horror on his face. He tried desperately to remember everything. "That wasn't a dream?"

"No," said Pippin. "Why?" He suddenly frowned. "You look pale, Frodo. Do you need more to eat? Here, look, you didn't finish all your cheese. Let me help you with---"

Aragorn put his hand on Pippin's shoulder. "That's all right, Pippin, I think Frodo can manage." He sighed. "You've helped enough."

** TBC **