Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien

True Friends Chapter 3

The healer had come and tried a new technique on our burdened Ring-bearer. It worked and he was able to fall asleep with the King carrying him back to his and Sam's room for much recuperation.

The sun had disappeared behind the mountains hours before, and even though the fire had died down, the room was still bathed in an orange glow.

Soft snores were heard from the hobbit laying in the bed next to his master's. Sam had been up all day, and after what had happened in the King's chambers, he had never felt so exhausted in all his life. He had a feeling that Strider put a sedative in his tea, but he could not be sure as he struggled to keep his eyes opened.

Strider sat vigil over both hobbits, poking at the coals from time to time, keeping the room warm. Sitting with his feet upon an ottoman, he lit his new pipe that Frodo had thoughtfully given him filled with the Shire's best leaf. He felt guilty that Frodo had to go to the healer for treatment, but he did remember disregarding the hobbit's complaints of pain, dismissing it as residual effects from his arduous journey. The King of Gondor and Arnor sat despondent, muddling over in his mind about the days events until footsteps fell softly as the chamber door opened, admitting the middle-aged healer.

Closing the wooden portal softly, the healer approached the bed enveloping the Ring-bearer. With a lit candle in hand he bent closely, pulling back an eyelid exposing blue saucers. He peered into those orbs before letting the lid slowly close on its own.

Aragorn watched the healer carefully, assessing Frodo's facial features, as Mallos' hand lifted the hobbit's nightshirt probing the site of Frodo's pain. It seemed that the green cloaked figure did not seem to mind the King's presence as he continued the examination.

"He is very fortunate that he made it through his ordeal, My Lord," Mallos observed as his hand glided over the scars that marred the shireling's body. A small sigh escaped the Ring-bearer's lips as the healer's warmed fingers pushed in on the hobbit's lower back.

Aragorn tensed upon hearing Frodo come around, observing tiny hands clenching the blanket closer to him. "Did you find anything, Mallos?" he questioned laying his pipe on the side table, leaning closer toward the little one.

Not being annoyed by the former Ranger's question, the healer answered without so much as looking into the King's eyes. "The same place as before, the tissue is still swollen. I suspect that it is his body's way of telling him to take it easy. Many things can factor in to why he is having these pains, but the swelling tells me not a properly healed injury."

"He was on a continuous march. Injuries did not heal, you lived with them," Strider remembered the many crushed fingers, hurt toes, and the fall he took off a cliff during his trek. "I could only imagine what he went through after he left the protection of the Fellowship."

"I see scars on his back. They look like whip whelts. What else happened?" the puzzled healer inquired, massaging the hurts.

"I am sure you have heard the lays sung about him? Well, let me tell you personally what I have witnessed. First, he was stabbed by the Witch-King at Weathertop, a creature suspended him above a lake by his ankles, a Troll's spear was deflected by his mithril shirt, but only to end up with broken ribs. After that, you would have to ask Samwise," Aragorn surmised looking thoughtfully at both sleeping hobbits.

"The same place I learned about the needles, also told how to look for parts of the back that could have been knocked out of place. Sort of like a dislocated shoulder, a dislocated disc in the back. You see here," the healer pointed, the King standing to peer at the little one's reddened area,"the tissue is swollen and I can feel a part of the disc," again the healer demonstrated by taking Aragorn's hand, gliding it over the lump.

Amazed that the healer had the nerve to touch the King without permission, but more so that the healer showed confidence, as he felt the anomaly on Frodo's back. "What can be done to help him?"

"Push it back in. Massages. Heated towels to the affected area, and above all plenty of rest," the healer listed.

Aragorn nodded, understanding everything that the healer wanted to do to Frodo, except, "Push it in?"

"Yes, my lord. The disc must be slipped back into place, or his pain will only continue to escalate, making it difficult to walk, or worse paralyzed," Mallos said with such conviction, that it made the King shudder.

Another sigh came from the Ring-bearer, but this time, his eyes fluttered open as Mallos probed one last time at the site. "Aragorn...?" Frodo moaned quietly as his eyes adjusted to the low lit room. "Uhh, make it stop...Aragorn!" his voice a little more clear and louder that time as the little body tried to slide out of the range of the hands, almost falling out of bed.

The King quickly moved to the edge of the bed, catching Frodo about the shoulders before he could hit the floor. "Hold on there, Tithen Min," Aragorn frowned as the halfling shook in his arms, sweat starting to bead on his brow. "Mallos, I think that is enough for now. Please, let him rest," Aragorn requested, settling the halfling back onto his bed, pillows at his back.

"Sorry, my Lord. I will come back in the morning. If the master should need anything, give him a brew made of this. It will ease him back to sleep," the healer said providing the King with the medicinal herb.

"Thank you. I shall be here by his side," Aragorn nodded, watching the healer leave the room, taking his place once again in the chair beside the bed. Silently, he picked up the pipe from the bedside table and lit it, purposely blowing the smoke toward the resting Ring-bearer.

Deeply inhaling the aroma of Longbottom Leaf, Frodo opened his eyes and just for a moment, his body relaxed. "Do you like it?" the hobbit asked quietly,imagining he was smoking his own pipe.

Taking the pipe stem from his mouth, the ruler of Gondor answered with great sincerity,"It is a very thoughtful gift. Magnificiently carved. You did not have to do it, my friend."

Frodo's eyes met Aragorn's from his side lying position, tears glistening,"Yes, I did. I was very cruel to say the things that I did. It is not like me to do so. If Bilbo had been here, he...he would have boxed my ears," his voice hitched, longing to be with his beloved Bilbo and back home at Bag End.

"Nay, Frodo, if I had not dismissed your pains and aches as just a result from the journey..." the Ranger trailed off. Then something the healer said made him curious himself as to how the hobbit could have obtained such an injury. "Frodo, what did happen after you and Sam left the Fellowship?"

The hobbit was quiet for a moment. He wanted to forget everything, and up to a point he really had no idea what had happened. Sam had to fill him in on details for his book, but he knew his gardener was keeping some events from him. "I remember descending a rope and lost my hold. Thank the Valar it was but a couple of feet to the bottom. In Ithilien, Faramir's men were a little rough. I landed quite roughly on my arse when I had been tossed to the ground."

"Pardon?" Aragorn slid to the edge of his seat, listening intently, questioning why would Faramir be so unkind.

"Please, you do not understand. He thought us spies and handled us as if we were, until he was convinced that he needed to let us go," the halfling said, placing a hand upon the Ranger's knee. He continued after taking a breath, as the throbbing had built up once again. "Sam and I fought. I remember vaguely that the Black Rider was above me. The Ring sang loudly. Then, Sam tackled me, both of us falling down a flight of stone steps. That is all I can really recall."

Aragorn felt the hobbit's hand tighten upon his knee, recalling the events when Sam and he tussled. It must have been quite an ordeal to upset Frodo so, but when the pressure continued to the point of hurting him, he immediately looked into the pale pain filled face. "Frodo?"

The throbbing in the little one's back became a spasm as beads of perspiration formed on his upper lip, eyes tightly closed as if shutting out the pain. It seemed relentless until it finally subsided. Spent, Frodo released his breath and his hold upon the King's knee, slumping back against the soft cool bedding.

"Frodo?" Aragorn called again, applying a cool cloth to the sweaty brow, the hobbit responding by reveling in it's comfort.

"Now, I know why the lasses always said the back pain was worse than the birthing of their babes," Frodo smiled recalling his Aunt Esmie complaining to his uncle about the babe must be kicking her back. Turning back onto his side, a small whimper escaped his lips.

The King's heart went out to the exhausted hobbit, an idea came to him, "Here, turn onto your stomach," he said as hands helped guide the hobbit over, then placed some pillows under the small hips, pulling the covers up leaving the back exposed to the warm air.

"What are you doing?" Frodo's voice a little high, feeling it indecent to be situated in such a manner.

"Trust me, Frodo," the King said, pouring some of the lavender oil he found into his palms, vigorously rubbing them together to warm the fluid. His large hands made contact to the affected area of the back, astounded how just one of his palms covered the width of the little body. Methodically, the healing hands of the King circled Frodo's back, fanning out as they made their way up to the shoulders.

Grunts soon turned into sighs as the little ones hands unclenched the fabric beneathe him, the long fingers relaxed to either side of his head. His eyes had also closed, the panting of breath slowed to an easy rythym. The massaging went on for a few minutes before Aragorn spoke, "How does that feel?"

Too relaxed to answer, Frodo just nodded, his curls bouncing.

"Good. Arwen used this method on me as many a nights my back ached. It relaxed the muscles so much that I do not even remember..." he heard a soft sigh coming from under the curls, stopping the motion. "I guess you will not need the sleeping draught after all, my friend. Good night," Aragorn wished, setting himself into his chair thinking to himself 'I hope Arwen will give me a massage this evening' as he placed a small pillow at his lower back.

tbc...