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.