Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien

True Friends

Part 2

Summary: After being rude to Aragorn, Frodo decides to set things right, but meets up with a bow he just cannot get up from.

this is a frodo hurt/comfort, and Aragorn gets to take care of his friend, what he was meant to do as having hands of a healer.

After the magnificent breakfast Sam had obtained from the kitchens, Frodo bathed and dressed to the best of his ability. His back was aching abdominably, making it difficult bending over and then trying to straighten back up. The gentle hobbit went to his knees, crawling like a babe to reach a piece of furniture to lever himself from the floor grunting all the way. He was glad for the fact he had sent Sam along on an errand, so that he would not see him in such an undignified manner.

The Ring-bearer was really sorry for the things that he had said to Aragorn. The King held a special place in his heart, looking after his kin for him when he thought he would never come back from the dark lands of Mordor. Being there as he recovered from his hurts, then happy for the Ranger of the North fulfilling his destiny as the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor.

A door closed silently, but not quiet enough for hobbit ears alerting Frodo that Sam had returned. The gardener came walking into the furthest room of the chambers as his master turned, sighing as his left hand lacked the dexterity to fasten the brooch to his Lothlorien cloak.

Putting down the brown papered package on the side table, Sam strode to where Frodo was standing before a looking glass, taking up the place where the leaf pin had been dangling. "Here, let me help you. It would do you good to look proper before the King this morning of all mornings. I still hope he is holdin' court, you take my meaning, sir," Sam rambled on as he ignored Frodo's rolling eyes , patiently waiting until the task was done.

"Did the shop have one?" the gentle hobbit asked.

"Yes, sir. The shop keeper was mighty happy to know whom it was going to," Sam said as he unwrapped the purchase.

"You had enough coin then, no problems? Oh, Sam, this is beautiful," the blue eyes gazed at the wondrous intricate carvings of stars emblazoned with silver, holding it delicately in his hands, turning the gift over in his hands admiring it.

"It is a thing of beauty, I agree. The shop keeper did not take any coin for it," the gardener said placing the ones given to him into Frodo's hand.

"We will definitely have to patronage his establishment, then," the Ring-bearer declared as he carefully put the gift back down, re-wrapping it with the brown parchment. "And Merry, did he still have any..."

His question was answered as Sam extricated an overstuffed suede pouch from his tunic, holding it in front of his master's eyes.

"You are a marvel, Sam. What would I do without..." once bright blue eyes, suddenly turned dark as his lower back started to throb. Grabbing at an invisible foe, Frodo reached around to rub the aching muscle.

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Frodo. Let's sit down. You have been up on your feet all morning, sir, if you don't mind me saying," his most faithful friend in the world fussed over him, leading him to the divan to relax.

"I am not an invalid, Sam. Please do not treat me as such!" the Ring-bearer snapped. Frodo deeply regretted his actions as his gardener jumped back in reaction to his outburst. "Oh, Sam. I am sorry. I do not know what has come over me," he apologized reaching out, capturing Sam's hand in his maimed one.

"Don't worry, you can't get rid of me that easily. It did not work in Ithilien, the Black Gate, Morgul Vale, nor Mount Doom and it will not work here in Minas Tirith," Sam smiled, squeezing the hand in return naming every place his master had snapped unexpectedly, but the cause was the Ring. He could not figure what was plaguing Frodo now.

Frodo breathed a sigh of relief as Sam accepted his apology at the same time schooling the pain that had begun to ease. "Now, I think we should be going. King Elessar will be holding court shortly, and I want to be there to be heard."

Frodo had never been in the main hall of the court to address the King. He had always had private counsel as Aragorn insisted that he would not have his friend waiting in the wings with the residents of Minas Tirith to talk to him.

The polished floors reflected his image as he kept his eyes downcast, looking at his fur covered feet, pacing outside of the King's court. He was quite impressed that Pippin had found brushing implements that the teeth were not too close together so that the perinnath would not be screaming in pain when trying to comb the thick foot hair. He also had a chance to straighten his clothing, so that at least he was presentable even if the former Ranger denied him an audience.

His heart pounded in his chest, nervous about apologizing publicly instead of privately. Pippin's voice echoed in his mind, roles reversed as he was the one being chastised for his actions. Looking at the package he turned over in his hands, he had hoped it to be a peace offering. He knew that Strider lost his piece on the ride somewhere between Minas Tirith and the Black Gate. Merry had told him that Strider often asked for his extra one as he tended to Sam and himself the fortnight before they awoke. He smiled at the thought as Estel, heir to the Throne of Gondor, had to ask a halfling for a smoke.

The Ring-bearer's eyes dulled as pain pulsated once again across his lower back, gulping in air as he frantically looked around for a place to sit down, thinking that would relieve some of the pressure. He saw none, settling himself along a wall. Sweat broke out on his face as he tried to calm his breathing by inhaling deeply while exhaling slowly. He did a couple of these exercises before he was interrupted with the opening of a heavy door.

Sam emerged from the white barrier, spying Frodo at the end of the hall sagging against its stone surface. Striding quickly to retrieve his master, "We're next Mr. Frodo," the gardener hurriedly spoke, not taking notice at first the pained face Frodo was trying to hide as they positioned themselves in front of the doors where they would be announced.

Straightening his back, wiping the sweat from his face with the cloak covered sleeve, Frodo took one more cleansing breath as he waited for the doors to swing open.

"Mr. Frodo Baggins of the Shire, Hobbiton and Mr. Samwise Gamgee, Gardener, Hobbiton," the guard announced loudly from the doorway to be carried to the end of the hall where the court had assembled. The guard then bowed, allowing the hobbits to enter.

Frodo took one look at the people gathered. The King sat front and center dressed in plum colored velvet, his head adorned with the high profile crown of gold and silver rings. The Queen wore a red plunged neckline gown, her soft black hair caressing her shoulders, long fingers of her right hand entwined with her husbands. Gandalf, of course, was sitting to the right of King Elessar acting as adviser. Pippin, dressed in the uniform of the Guard of the Citadel, stood rigid at his post just behind and to the right of Gandalf. Frodo was so proud of his cousin taking on the responsibility he did when the Steward had questioned Mithrandir's loyalty that he should have informed him earlier to the cause of Boromir's death. That same pride exploded on cue when Pippin threw himself over the burning embers to rescue Faramir, Boromir's brother, from certain death.

Off to his right, Merry sat in the audience, dressed in his hobbit clothes, being relieved of his duties that day. Sitting beside him was Faramir and Eowyn. Oh great, almost the whole Fellowship, he thought to himself as he remembered Gimli and Legolas were out scouting for Orcs rumored to be about Osgiliath.

The walk was long and tiring to the Ring-bearer as he made the final approach to the throne. He dared to look into the aged face of King Elessar as he bowed low, keeping eye contact. Sam followed suit.

"Master Baggins, what can I do for you today?" Aragorn asked, keeping his tone smooth and cold.

Frodo flinched at the roughness he heard in the otherwise soft voice as his eyes swept from Aragorn to the Queen noticing that she had turned her head in response to the harshness from her husband.

Arwen had encountered her husband as he was walking back from the hobbit's chambers, shortly after dismissing himself. She was overwhelmed with the anger that flared from his fea. She stopped in front of him, slowing his advance taking his hands into hers. "What upsets you so, my love?"

Taking a deep breath, he looked into his wife's eyes and felt a feeling of calm taking over as her fingers stroked the back of his hands.

"Most stubborn," he muttered.

"Say no more. I completely understand. Frodo is all right though?" she inquired, knowing something was going on with the Ring-bearer.

"He actually accused me of belittling him by calling him 'Tithen Min'," he whined as if he had just lost his best friend.

It was hard for Arwen not to giggle at the obvious comparison. Rosy red highlighting her cheek bones, she regained her composure in short order to answer the distraught Ranger, "But, Estel, he is little. He must sometimes feel offended by that remark even if used as you say an 'endearment'. For the sake of the Valar, it was his little size and big heart that defeated the dark Lord," she added smiling wide, seeing his face contort in confusion.

His features finally relaxed as he realized to what she was saying, but he was still upset that Frodo would not let him help him. "He was in pain, Arwen, and he declined my help. Even Sam had no effect on him. Come to think of it, he was very rude to me."

"Husband, I feel that his kind soul will prevail, seeking you out," the Queen advised, sensing that Frodo would need his help again and soon. She resumed stroking Aragorn's hand, continuing her stride as they both traversed together to their chambers.

"I...I requested this audience, my Lord, to present you with this gift. A token of appreciation for everything you had done during the trials of the Fellowship," he said holding out the brown wrapped parcel in front of him then concluded his speech,"and my sincerest apology for my actions that occurred in my chambers this morning," his voice cracked at the last part as pain assaulted him again from his strained position.

Aragorn had not heard the pain in Frodo's voice, but the apology as his eyes softened on the creature bowing before him on one knee holding the gift out to him.

A guard, not Pippin, retrieved the parcel from the Ring-bearer's hand and delivered it to the King. Elessar accepted it, slowly revealing the contents. He discovered that the brown wrapping contained a long, dark stained pipe with silver stars, the white tree in full bloom carved into the side of the bowl. A tear fell from the King's face as he fingered the delicate carvings. Then he opened the suede pouch smelling its contents. It was undoubtedly long bottom leaf from the Shire.

"How very thoughtful of him, my liege," Gandalf said observing the gifts that had been bestowed upon him. Merry had told him earlier on that he had given a little of his stash to Frodo to go with the new pipe.

Pippin moved in when he caught the scent, staring in disbelief, "Oi, how'd you get Long Bottom Leaf? Merry?"

"Shh, Peregrin Took. You are in the presence of court still in counsel," Gandalf warned.

Pippin took a step backward toward his post, bowing his head, silently berating Merry.

Sam had noticed his master's body shaking beside him. He assumed it was nerves as he knew Frodo hated making public speeches, his voice always cracking before he finished. Something was not right as he heard Frodo sucking in air. Dark curly locks obscured Sam's sight to peer into the gentle hobbit's face. What he did notice was a tear falling from a cheek splashing onto the brown colored breeches. "Mr. Frodo?" he whispered.

Frodo stopped his breathing, hearing Sam speak his name. Frodo just shook his head, which made the pain worse. He just wanted to get up off his knees, rub his back and stretch out on his feather mattress. Yes, that would be lovely. Very lovely. 'Frodo'. Not ready to get up yet, Sam. 'Frodo'. Please, it hurts so, can I go now, Bilbo?

"Frodo, you can get up now. I would like to thank you, looking into your eyes and not the floor," Aragorn said standing before the halfling.

The hobbit stayed in his place, but Sam scooted closer to him, wrapping his arms around the slender shoulders. Taking his calloused hand, he brushed the hanging hair out of his master's face.

Concerned that there was still no answer, Aragorn knelt in front of Frodo, placing his hand under the hobbit's chin, raising it up slowly. What he saw appalled him. The halfling's eyes were squeezed shut, cheeks glistened with tears, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Tith...Frodo, answer me, what is wrong? You can get up off your knees."

A small voice, "I...can...not," hands clenching together as he tried to control the pain seizing his back.

By this time, an audience had gathered around the trio, all worried faces glancing between the Ring-bearer and Aragorn.

Estel grabbed Frodo up under his arms, attempting to pick him up. As the weight transferred from his legs, stretching his spine, the halfling let out a yowl sending chills up everyone's spine.

Gasping for breath, the Ring-bearer's reddened eyes snapped open, looking straight into steele gray. "So sorry," he mumbled. He inhaled deeply, nails digging into the velvet robe as the pain did not want to let up. "Down...Lay...down...down," requesting through clenched teeth, his voice getting weaker.

Faramir unfastened his cloak, laying it under Frodo as Sam undid his, folding it into a pillow. Aragorn cradled the stiffened form, gently lowering him to the ground.

When the halfling felt that he was being laid on his back, he yelled out, "No...s...side," clutching at the man-sized arms. As he felt he was being lain on his left side, Frodo nodded in appreciation releasing his grip upon the man.

"Sam, has he said anything to you?" Gandalf questioned the gardener for information worrying that maybe the hobbit-lad had fallen and did not want to bother anyone with something he considered insurmountable.

Thinking quickly, for the sake of his master, he went back in his mind the last couple of days. Then he remembered what had happed that mid morning. "I know he was complaining his back had been troubling him again, Gandalf, sir."

"Again? He has not mentioned it to me," King Elessar said feeling wounded that he had not been informed. He let the anger go as soon as it started to build up. It was just the way Frodo was. Not wanting to bother anyone.

The healer had been sent for and appeared immediately, rushing to the fallen Ring-bearer. "What has happened?"

Frodo heard voices above him, seeing only the outline of knees through Aragorn's plum colored robe. He fingered the material, trying to concentrate on the texture of the soft velvet and not on the excruciating back pain. Stubbly fingers brushed hair away from his face and ears, as assurances were whispered to him.

"We do not know, except that he is definitely in pain. I tried to pick him up and he hollered out," Estel told the healer, moving the knee that Frodo had been focusing on.

"Has he said anything about anymore back pain?" the healer questioned, his hands pushing Frodo's cloak out of the way, seeking the Ring-bearer's lower back.

"He came to you?" Sam asked, thinking he had known all of his master's whereabouts. Strider's eyes had also looked from the healer down to Frodo, a look of concern growing on his face.

"Yes, about a week ago. Said to me that he could not sleep, that he was having increasingly painful backaches. He did let me take a look at him, finding a slightly swollen area. I could not do anything for him at that time. Now, I think I may be able to help him," the middle aged healer explained.

The halfling tried to move from the searching hands, but as pain flared up again, all he could do was endure the examination. A hand appeared in front of his face, grabbing one of his. Somehow, Merry had managed to wiggle in between Aragorn and Sam. Frodo returned the gesture, squeezing his cousin's hand tightly.

The healer had managed to pull the shirt tail free of the breeches, his warm soft hands exploring the lower back. He monitored the Ring-bearer's face for increased pain on the areas as he applied extra pressure. The most sensitive area found was the space just above his tailbone, just at the curve of his spine.

"Oww, Stop! Please," Frodo had cried out, tensing his body at the same time crushed Merry's hand to the point that the honarary Rohirrim shed a tear himself.

Sam pried the deathgrip fingers from Merry's hand, taking it into his own. The cousin sat on his backside, cradling his bruised hand. Pippin appeared at his Merry's side, wrapping his scarf around the colorful appendage.

Aragorn felt helpless until the healer had asked for him to gently hold Frodo's body still so that he may apply some needles to the affected area.

"Needles?" Estel and Sam sang in unison, eyes popping out of their sockets.

"It will relieve his pain long enough to move him. Just listen to me carefully," the healer controlled the situation with efficiency and authority. The former Ranger nodded as if he was assisting his father once again in Rivendell. "Good, now hold him at his knees and at his shoulders, keeping him still. He will flinch when the needles go in. It is a must that he remains still."

Sam cooed the words into his master's ear, explaining to him the importance to remain still and that soon the pain will be gone. Tears clouded Frodo's sight, but a reassuring squeeze to his hand had been received.

The healer removed a couple of short silver colored sticks from his pouch, being careful not to lay them on the polished stone surface. Instead he took a flask with his other hand from the pouch, shoving it into anyone's free hand.

Faramir had been the lucky receipient of the thin flask, unsure what to do with it. His question was put into action when the healer addressed him.

"My Lord, if you would be so kind as to pour a little of the liquid, here," the healer instructed pointing with one finger at the slightly reddened area on the Ring-bearer's back. "Then pour some in my hand and on the needles here," he concluded.

Faramir placed a gentle hand along Frodo's exposed ribcage, feeling the rapid rise and fall of the distressed hobbit. "Hold on, Frodo, this will be cool."

Muscles tensed at the sudden cold being poured onto his skin, but the Ring-bearer's body had only flinched, man-sized arms restricting his movements. "Almost done, sir," Sam told him, brushing back the sweat soaked hair to the side.

Seeing the steady hands of the healer aiming for its target, Aragorn tightened his grip just a little, anticipating a struggle from the Ring-bearer. He saw the first short sharp pointed needle puncture the red tender skin, a drop of blood escaping as half its shaft hid itself in the Ring-bearer's back. Frodo's body bucked at the intrusion, but Strider remained in control of how much he moved. The second and third needles went in the same way, each time the hobbit struggled less.

"That's it, Mr. Frodo. He's done," the gardener whispered, the Ring-bearer's grip going lax in his hand. He looked up to the King worried eyes asking if that was supposed to happen.

The healer's attention, kept on Frodo the whole time caught Sam's glance and answered, "Master Gamgee, it is all right. His body is relaxing. His reaction to the treatment is to be expected. My liege, you can let go of him now. I will leave these in for a few moments. Do you mind checking his life's beat. I can already tell his breathing has slowed," the healer asked.

Only happy to oblige and feel that he was helping his friend, Aragorn placed a fore finger and thumb along the inside of the small wrist, counting to himself silently. He bent down stretching his formal clad body next to the inert form laying on the King's stone floor and spoke with him, "I am sorry, my friend, that I had not listened when you first came to me," he whispered taking over brushing the curly hair from the sweaty brow.

Half lidden eyes opened fully and stared into Aragorn's eyes. He inhaled deeply, taking his left hand, placing it on the man's wrist, "Tithen Min," he whispered through unclenched teeth.

"What?"

"I...do not mind it. It is not you, when you do not use it. I know that you...care," he sighed as his body released the tension, his mind floating.

King Elessar smiled wide, "My pleasure, Tithen Min."

A voice interrupted the intimate conversation, "I am going to pull the needles quickly causing him to lapse into a peaceful sleep, he may yet feel it. I just wanted you to know my lord," the healer warned.

The crowned man nodded and once again faced Frodo, holding onto his wrist. The hobbit's face serene, observing a slight furrowing of the brow as a hiss was heard escaping parted lips as the first needle was twisted then removed from the muscle. Small fingers gripped upon the man's wrist, then quickly loosened as whites of his blue eyes rolled back into his head, dark lashes fluttering to a close. He was already asleep before the last two were removed. "Good sleep, Tithen Min," he whispered and placed a kiss on Frodo's forehead before rising to carry the unconscious Ring-bearer back to his feather bed, not the healing house.

tbc