“Aragorn!” Frodo shouted, trying not to panic. Aragorn and Gandalf entered the cave without a second’s hesitation, followed closely by Boromir and the rest of the Fellowship. Frodo was shaking badly, but somehow able to keep his composure as Sam lay in his arms, gasping for air. Gandalf gently pulled Frodo aside and tried to comfort him. Aragorn carefully laid Sam on his back while Legolas brightened the lantern and held it in the position that gave the most light to the area. Gimli noticed Pippin crying hysterically in a dark corner. Merry was trying to calm him, but Pippin would have none of that, so the Dwarf went over to see what he could do.

“I… feel… Sam gasped. “ a…a…rope tightening around my neck and my chest... pulled sharply every time I breath!”

“What happened here, Frodo?” Aragorn asked, trying to take Sam’s vital signs but encountering great resistance from the panic strickened Hobbit even as Boromir tried to restrain and calm him.

“I don’t know,” Frodo answered speaking calmly, but with great difficulty. “Sam was starting to feel better, he even slept for a short time. Then I gave him the medicine and the problems started about fifteen minutes after that.”

“Problems? You mean the cold symptoms?” Aragorn asked, still trying to figure out what had happened. It made no sense for this to happen to a healthy, strong young hobbit, even one with AMS. Of course, Sam’s condition may have been more serious than he was willing to admit, but Aragorn had seen no evidence of that.

“The itching too; in fact that was the first thing I noticed,” Frodo added. Aragorn looked at Sam, who confirmed this with a nod, even though his breathing was even more shallow and laboured than it had been. Itching! Of course, that explained it! The Ranger cursed himself in both Elvish and Dwarvish for not thinking of that. Frodo, understanding some Elvish, looked up in disbelief. Gimli and Legolas looked shocked for minute but then would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so critical.

“Aragorn, the Hobbits,” Gandalf admonished.

“They don’t understand,” Aragorn pointed out, not seeing Frodo’s reaction. “Excuse the language, Legolas and Gimli, but I feel very upset with myself at this time.” Sam was barely conscious anymore. His face was beginning to turn blue.

“Open his shirt!” Aragorn ordered, grabbing the black box. When Boromir complied, Aragorn took a deep breath and firmly rubbed some thick liquid from the smaller bottle into Sam’s chest. A cool, slightly bitter scent filled the air as Boromir and Aragorn moved back slightly avoid been overcome by the vapours.

Sam’s eyes became almost impossibly wide. He gasped painfully and began to cough even more violently than he had in the freezing wind. As Frodo buried his face in Gandalf’s robe, trying not to break down, Aragorn turned Sam on his side and placed another empty pot next to his mouth, looking strangely relieved. Within minutes, the pot was filled with mucus, along with the rest of Sam’s stomach contents.

There was collective sigh of relief as the coughing finally subsided. Sam began to breathe more easily and his colouring returned to normal. As Legolas removed both pots, seemingly unfazed, Aragorn carefully laid Sam on his back, speaking gently to him as he trembled, trying to comprehend what had just happened to him. Frodo, of course wanted to rush to his side, but Gandalf continued to hold to him, giving Frodo time to recover somewhat from his own shock. Boromir lifted Sam’s feet and slipped one of the packs under them. Aragorn wrapped Sam up warmly after he had assessed his condition and was satisfied that it was stable. Then he nodded for Frodo to come.

“Hello, Sam,” Frodo whispered, as if he thought speaking out loud might shatter Sam’s fragile recovery. Sam, while still too weak to move, managed to smile when Frodo came into his line of vision. Frodo lifted Sam’s head gently and laid it on his lap. “Thank you, Aragorn and Boromir for saving his life,” Frodo said, his voice about to break again, “thank you all for everything.”

“You’re very welcome, Frodo,” Aragorn replied, warmly touching Frodo’s shoulder. Sam weakly nodded his thanks too and began to relax. The rest of Fellowship began relax as well. Over in the corner, Merry collapsed with relief. Gimli managed to catch him just before he hit the ground. Everything seemed under control now.

“Well, that was really something, wasn’t Pip?” Merry said with a laugh. Pippin gave no response however. “Pippin?” Still no answer came. Puzzled, Merry moved closer and reach out to him. This time he did get a response. For the first time in his life, Pippin deliberately knocked Merry’s hand off his shoulder and turned away angrily.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, stomping from the cave without a backward glance as the rest of the Fellowship stared after him in shock.

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A/N: For those of you wondering what Aragorn used on Sam, it was the essential oils of two plants: lobelia (ironically enough), a bronchial dilator sometimes used as an alternative treatment for asthma and ephedra, a plant source of epinephrine, the present day treatment for this type of reaction. The larger bottle contains a tincture of the same liquid to be taken internally.