“Oh Sam!” Frodo soothed acutely sensing his anxiety, “Just relax; Strider is a good healer. Don’t you remember how well he took care of me at…” Sam cringed and inhaled sharply. “…Weathertop?” Frodo gulped realizing his mistake but knowing it was too late to correct it.

Aragorn, who had just looked in Sam’s ears and throat and was listening to his heart and breathing, stopped what he was doing and looked up. “That was very traumatic for you wasn’t it, Sam?” he asked quietly.

Sam blushed and began squirm. “Traumatic, sir? Well not really,” he said, referring to the examination. “I don’t much like it of course, but I understand it’s something that needs to be done.”

“You know what I mean, Sam, I was talking about Weathertop,” Aragorn said, more firmly. “I wasn’t particularly supportive of you during that time and I’ve been wondering since then if you got the emotional support you needed anywhere else.”

“That wasn’t a real issue was it, sir?” replied Sam, who had been trying not to think about that terrible incident. “And anyway, you had to take of Mr. Frodo, that was the important thing.”

“You’re important too, Sam,” Frodo told him. “I couldn’t have survived without you.” Sam looked up him confused. “It was Strider that saved me from those Nazguls, and treated my wound with Athelas, but you gave me strength to hold on until we got to Rivendell. All those small things you did for me and that song that you sang about the Troll helped me think about something besides the pain I was feeling. There was no way I could have endured it otherwise.”

“Exactly, Sam,” Aragorn confirmed. “I noticed it was you, more than anyone that kept his spirits up. It may not have seem like much to you, but it was as important as anything I could have done.” Sam considered this with amazement. From time to time he had doubts about his place in the Fellowship and even whether he should be there, but now it was clear to him. He had done the right in coming even if it initially been for the wrong reason.

“Now I have some good news,” the Ranger announced. “Gandalf was right, Sam. You have Acute Mountain Sickness, AMS for short. It’s not serious, in fact it should be gone by tomorrow. You just need to rest and give your body time to adjust to this new environment. I’ll treat your symptoms in the meantime to make you more comfortable.”

The rest of Fellowship meanwhile, was waiting anxiously for Aragorn to come out. When he finally did and was smiling, everyone except Pippin relaxed a bit.

“Did you find out what was wrong with him, Strider?” Pippin demanded, wide-eyed as he jumped to his feet. Aragorn nodded, smiling reassuring at the anxious young Hobbit.

“Nothing to worry, Pippin,” Aragorn assured him. “He just has a mild case of Acute Mountain Sickness brought on by the altitude and the cold, just as Gandalf said.”

“So, is he going to all right?” Pippin asked, still not ready to get his hopes up.

“He’s going to be just fine after resting for a day,” Aragorn promised. “He won’t even be too uncomfortable. I already have some medicine prepared for his symptoms.”

“Good!” Pippin replied, happy again. “Oh, did I ever tell you about the time I fell into a lake and got a really bad cold? I don’t know of course, but I think the way I felt was the same way Sam feels now. And I recovered just fine too, as you can see.” Aragorn listened patiently as Pippin chattered non-stop about that incident.

***************

Back in the cave, Frodo tended to Sam following the Ranger’s instructions. He put more wood on the fire and refilled the pot that was getting low on water. When he was finished Sam, who had been sleeping lightly opened his eyes and coughed again.

“Oh you’re awake!” Frodo exclaimed, sounding cheerful but a bit nervous as he quickly returned to his friend’s side. “Good. I’m going to help you sit up a bit, if I may. Semi sitting is the best position to be in while you’re awake, according to Strider mind you. I don’t understand why exactly. Are you comfortable?” he asked when he had finished. Sam nodded. “Good,” Frodo said looking relieved. Because he never taken care of anyone who was sick before, he wanted to be sure he was doing everything right. “Now I have to give you some of this medicine Strider made.” He held up a small jar filled with thick, dark paste.

“Ah…all right, Mr. Frodo, but what’s in it?” Sam asked as he looked at it apprehensively, knowing medicine very seldom tasted pleasant.

“It has quite a number of things in it,” Frodo replied, “let me think for a minute. Oh yes. It has willow, rosemary and licorice for your sore throat and your headache, thyme, slippery elm and wild cherry bark and mullein for your coughing, valerian to help you relax…” Sam looked dismayed for second. Frodo smiled sympathetically. “Yes I know how you feel about that, I don’t like just sitting around either. But you need your rest to get better and I need you with me, just as Strider said. Now, what else is in this? Oh yes, echinacea.”

Sam looked confused. “I never heard of that,” he said. “What is it?”

“Those purple coneflowers back in the Shire,” Frodo explained. “The leaves and roots are apparently very useful for treating infections and for preventing them. Strider wants you to have that as precaution. And the herbs are all mixed in honey, so it shouldn’t taste too bad.” Sam didn’t look convinced, but when Frodo handed him the tablespoon of medicine he swallowed it bravely.

“So, how often do I have to take this?” he asked, after taking a few gulps of water to wash it down.

“Not for another four hours,” Frodo said reassuringly.

“And for how long?” he asked doubtfully.

“Sam, all these questions!” Frodo teased gently. “You used to be such a sensible young hobbit, now you’re getting to be like me!”

“Really? How wonderful!” Sam laughed.

“Your family might think otherwise,” Frodo reminded him with a smile tugging at corner of his lips. Sam didn’t care, that statement had made his day. It made Frodo’s day too, to see him feeling better. Everything was all right now, and it would get better soon. “As to your question, it will just be until you get over this, so you’ll probably only need one more dose or two.”

Things were going equally smoothly outside the cave where Gandalf and Aragorn had just assigned the others their work duties. Boromir was keeping watch, Merry and Pippin were making supper and Legolas and Gimli fetched water and unpacked the equipment. Aragorn and Gandalf would share the watch duty that night so that Aragorn could check on Sam frequently.

“So it was just a mild case of AMS?” Gandalf asked Aragorn as they helped gather up the cooking utensils that were no longer being used.

“Oh yes, I’ve seen cases that were very much worse,” Aragorn replied. The rest of the Fellowship had finally gotten over their shock and were about to enjoy the meal. It was quite different from the way Sam prepared it, but no one complained. Pippin and Merry seemed to have done a good job.

“And do you have enough left of everything, or should we try to gather more herbs after dinner?” Gandalf continued.

“We should be all right for now, but let me check just to make sure,” Aragorn replied. He emptied the healing kit and began to take an inventory of what he had. As he did, a small black box fell at his feet. He looked at it quizzically for a second, then opened it and found two clearly marked bottles inside.

I don’t remember bringing this, he thought. Elrond must have put it in, just in case. He shrugged and put it aside. When he had finished his inventory, he made a few mental notes on what was lacking, then gathered some food to take to Frodo and Sam.

**********************

“Sam, are you all right?” Frodo asked, noticing that Sam seemed uncomfortable.

“I’m all right, Mr. Frodo,” he replied. “I just got a little itchy all of a sudden.”

“Itchy?” Frodo looked at him with surprise and bewilderment.

“I don’t why, it just came on suddenly. And I feel kind of stuffed up too.”

“Really?” Frodo laid his hand on Sam’s brow, becoming concerned. “I’m not a healer, but your temperature seems to be normal. Let me loosen your clothes, that might help bit. Then we’ll have Strider look at you again.”

Sam was about to object to the last statement when Aragorn entered, carrying two large bowls of vegetables and dry meat. “Is there a problem?” he asked, setting the bowls aside and picking up the lantern.

“Well….I…” Sam began. “It’s really nothing I’m sure, but I….” He looked nervously at Frodo, who smiled encouragingly but said nothing. Clearly he was going to have to explain this himself. Aragorn looked at him attentively, so he took as deep a breath as he could and tried again.

“I was feeling all right for a while, but then I starting to get kind of itchy and it got harder to breath. It’s like, I caught a cold all of sudden.”

“You probably did, Sam,” Aragorn told him. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but let me make sure.” Frodo took Sam’s hand reassuringly, feeling it tighten as Aragorn again checked Sam’s vital signs and listened to his chest.

“You do seem to have a bit of a cold,” he announced when he had finished. “So what I would suggest is a cup of echinacea tea to keep it from getting worse. It might quicken your recovery, too.” He scooped some boiling water in a cup and went to get some of the herb. “Let that steep for about ten minutes,” he instructed when he returned with it and placed it in the cup. “Drink it all just as soon as it gets cool enough and let me know when you finished it.”

The Hobbits ate their meal while they waited, then Sam dutifully drank the tea as fast as he could, not much liking the taste of it but expecting to feel better afterwards. Instead, to his surprised, the cave began to spin and he desperately wished he hadn’t eaten that large meal.

“Sam, are you all right?” Frodo asked, noticing immediately that something was wrong.

“Mr. Frodo….I…I..think I’m going to be sick,” he gasped.

“You think…? Oh dear!” Frodo got up quickly and grabbed the nearest pot he could find. “Here Sam, do what you have to.” He turned Sam on his side and rubbed his back soothingly as he wretched violently.

“All right now?” he asked as he gently wiped Sam’s mouth, sympathetic to his obvious embarrassment when it was over. Sam didn’t answer. “Sam?” Frodo asked, becoming more concerned. Still there was no response. Greatly alarmed now, Frodo quickly rolled him onto his back. “Sam?” he almost screamed.

Sam was turning bright red and his eyes were bulging. “I…can’t breathe!” he gasped.