Title: Set backs and Bonds Forged
Chapter: 1/10
Author: Coriandra
Beta reader: Phoenixqueen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the story plot and am receiving no payment for the story, other than the feedback of its readers. The symptoms and treatments described are strictly for entertainment purposes and should not be considered medical information or advice.

A/N: The first chapter is rather short, but they vary in length. I would like to offer a huge thank you to my beta reader for her proofreading, editing and general input. The story wouldn’t have been nearly as good without it.
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“SAM!” Frodo’s cry echoed off the mountainside and continued to hang in the cold, dry air as Sam lay on the frozen ground coughing uncontrollably. Frodo was at his side in a heartbeat, holding him close and trying to shelter him from the icy wind. If there was any question in Sam’s mind about the appropriateness of this, it vanished faster than the mist each time he exhaled. His throat burned, his sides felt like they were being torn apart and the rest of his body felt completely drained of energy.

The Fellowship, with the exception of Aragorn who was absent, turned instantly and began to gather around the two hobbits, almost as alarmed as Frodo. They had, ironically been debating what effect Caradhas was going to have on the Hobbits when they got to the top, but now they had a more immediate concern. Boromir was the first to reach Sam and Frodo. Gandalf joined him by their side a minute later.

“What happened here?” Boromir asked, sounding more abrupt than he meant to.

“Sam and I were making lunch,” Frodo explained, his expressive blue eyes dancing frantically, “then he started shaking, and naturally I thought he was cold so I turned to get him a warm cape from one of our packs. Then he started to cough so hard that he collapsed.”

Sam tried to speak, but again coughed violently when he took a breath. His energy level had been getting lower ever since they had started up Caradhas and it was becoming increasingly hard for him to eat and sleep. He had said nothing about it up until then, not wanting to slow down the rest of the Fellowship and thinking he could get over it using his own strength, being accustomed to hard work. Now, however, he was genuinely sick and could no longer deny it.

“Breath through this,” Gandalf advised, tucking a scarf lightly around Sam’s mouth and nose. “The warmer air should make your breathing a bit easier.”

“Where is…” Boromir snapped his head up to look at the Fellowship.

“Aragorn was scouting up ahead,” Gimli replied knowing, of course that was Boromir’s question. “Legolas has already gone to get him.”

“Good.” Boromir exhaled with relief.

Speaking calmly to Sam, Gandalf continued, “ How have you been feeling up until now?”

Sam paused for a minute, gathering up his strength to answer. “Very tired, can’t sleep at night…” Sam pause for minute, saving what little strength he had. “And my throat…” he gasped finally, raising his hand to his neck.

“Hurts?” Boromir asked quietly. Sam nodded with a great deal of effort.

“I have a headache too,” he managed to gasp before as he body was racked by another violent coughing spasm. Boromir and Frodo both supported him until it passed and he fell back into Frodo’s arms, barely conscious. Boromir removed his glove and slipped his hand inside Sam’s shirt to more accurately check his temperature. Again looking relieved, he spoke briefly to Gandalf who then stood and gave some instructions to the rest of the Fellowship. Understandably, neither Frodo nor Sam took much noticed of what was being said. Sam’s hazel eyes were watering miserably and Frodo had closed his own, praying silently as he held his friend close, for that was what he considered Sam, his friend, not just his gardener. As the rest of the Fellowship gathered their packs and began to make their way back down the path, Boromir gently brushed Sam’s tears away with his ungloved hand and smiled encouragingly at both Hobbits.

“What’s wrong with Sam?” Frodo asked with a quiver in his voice. “Does he have a lung infection?”

“Possibly,” Gandalf replied. Seeing Frodo’s devastated expression he added quickly, “but more likely it was just the cold air and higher altitude that caused this. Do try not to worry.” Although Gandalf was never extensively knowledgeable about healing, he had learned enough over the centuries, largely from his friendship with Elrond to be fairly confident about Sam’s diagnosis.

“Sam, we’re going to take you back to the cave where we slept last night,” Boromir told him gently. “Not the best place to be when you’re sick, but at least it’s dry and sheltered. Then we’re going to boil water to make it steamy. That should be a bit easier on your lungs. Aragorn will decide what else to do for you when he gets there.”

Boiling water of course, would mean lighting a fire and going back to the cave would mean backtracking over five hundred feet. Sam started to protest that it was too great a risk and they would lose progress in the quest, but was thrown into yet another coughing spasm and last of his strength failed him. It was almost with relief that he slipped into unconsciousness.