CHAPTER THREE
Frodo knew his mind was beginning to wander as twilight came upon them. It actually helped keep him going…at least…that’s how he justified himself. The latest fantasy had nearly caused him some physical embarrassment, however and he was glad no one was paying attention.
--Frodo fantasizing-- Aragorn had stripped down to his waist for it was far too hot a day to be walking about in heavy leather. They had made camp and Frodo had just returned from finding an armful of firewood to feast his eyes on the site. Riveted, the hobbit could only stare. Aragorn was sitting by the stream, using a rag to wet his torso with the cool water. Aragorn had noticed Frodo looking and smiled, indicating for him to come over. Frodo dropped the firewood and obliged. For some reason…they had been the only one’s present. Others were scouting or gathering firewood…or…As Frodo stood there, speechless…Aragorn handed him the towel, “Get my back, will you?”
Frodo closed his mouth for it was hanging open and he nodded quickly, beginning to rub the wet cloth over the rippling muscles of the man’s shoulders. Here and there, the Ringbearer would come across a scar or too and run his fingers along it curiously. Then he couldn’t help himself…he lowered his head and kissed one of them, gentle lips caressing the rugged skin…his tongue licking out to taste the ranger’s exposed flesh.
There was no reaction at first, this spurred the hobbit forward, and he did it once again, this time slowly and with skillfull maneuvers of his tongue. This caused the ranger to shiver, especially as the small hands trailed down Aragorn’s sides, and as they did he caught both of them, flipping Frodo around…and into his lap. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Frodo…do you really know what you’re doing to me?”
“Not entirely,” the hobbit had responded provocatively, gazing up. Aragorn was holding his hands fast so there was nothing he could do there…but he had learned a thing or two from reading…and there was something he wanted…he -was- going to get it. He let his tongue loose from his lips to trail along the thick bottom one suggestively, and slowly.
“Hm..” the Ranger pulled him close…his eyes dragging over Frodo’s body, taking in every detail. “You’re wearing too much.” he suggested. “But we shall remedy that…” In a slick motion he descended upon the hobbit’s lips, taking them with his own without mercy.
Frodo squirmed a bit, though not from being uncomfortable by the gesture…in fact…he was enraptured. He wanted more…much more…his body was on fire… Aragorn showed not a single tendency that he was going to stop anytime soon either except to take a breath, panting low and heavy. “Don’t stop…” Frodo pleaded between broken gasps.
“I think…my young hobbit…that you knew exactly what you are doing.” Aragorn’s fingers trailed down to unbutton Frodo’s shirt and delve downward…to come to rest…
--end daydrem--
And that was when he had been jostled out of his daydream. Sam had stopped him from nearly falling off a cliff. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment remembering his friend’s confused expression…that was why he was up near Aragorn now while they continued through a more dangerous section of the hills. He kept his eyes on ahead , however it didn’t help at all that he now had to keep pace with Aragorn.
The man slowed his walk a little for Frodo’s sake, but he was still faster than the hobbit, and once…that almost was his undoing…Frodo was trying to push himself over a couple of rocks when Aragorn reached down and lifted him up and over as though he was nothing more than child… and set him down again, steadying him, “You alright there, Frodo?” he asked with a smile, resting his arm around the hobbit’s shoulders.
Frodo was far from alright. He was trembling… but not from fear or…sickness…or fatigue. From being in the ranger’s arms…if just for a moment…and at how easily he had been lifted up. For a moment, he locked eyes with Aragorn, his own filled with almost desperate confusion. Finally, he swallowed and nodded, “Sorry…the rock was just a bit too big for me to push myself up on…thank-you.”
“Don’t mention it.” The ranger shrugged and continued forward.
Frodo sighed, he hadn’t noticed….unfortunately, that incident was once again causing his mind to go to places that it shouldn’t...especially in such dangerous territory. He wished he could pull himself together but the day was dragging and dragging. It was almost as though it would never end.
As the fellowship scrambled up a particularly unsteady section of rock he smiled a little…watching Aragorn move. He supposed that it was a good thing he was up in front now with the ranger…it gave him an unobstructed view of the man’s sheer power. The muscles tensed and untensed as he climbed here or there and then reached down to help Frodo up when necessary.
The hilltop the fellowship was climbing up was not quite a clifface...but high enough and steep enough to be easily treacherous. Unpleasant brush here and there made movement tricky at best and jagged rocks jutted out in precarious ways. As they made their way up higher the pathway became much narrower, that is if it could be called a pathway.
Pippin loudly complained, “If this is a pathway, my mother is a Sackville-Baggins.”
Boromir laughed at the smallest hobbit, he was bringing up the rear and ruffled his hair. “Just keep your eyes steady, little one.”
Frodo would have noticed it...had he been paying attention…but no one could have preordained that the loose rock underneath his foot just then would give way. He didn’t notice at first, but as he moved over it, it slid downwards…and sideways…forcing him off balance. He desperately looked for something to grab onto…but found nothing but another rock, and tried for that…but there was nothing he could ‘hold‘. His pack was weighting him down backwards and he scrambled precariously, trying to keep his footing. “Strider!” he cried out.
Bounding back…the Ranger was just a second too late to grab him. Sam rushed his way up when he saw Frodo in trouble slamming down on the rocky path, ignoring his own comfort, and reaching forward trying to get a limb….but his hands met only the material of Frodo’s cloak, which slipped off as the hobbit Fell backwards into the air.
“Frodo, no!” Sam cried.
They heard a terrified scream…then nothing. They moved to look over the edge, to see what had become of the Ringbearer…faces ashen. About ten feet down…he lay facedown on a ledge that jutted outwards, and upon that ledge were many bushes. It was the bushes that had broken Frodo’s fall. But that was not what turned Sam’s face white…blood was seeping from the hobbit’s prone form. The gardener clutched his master’s cloak and began to cry. Frodo wasn’t moving.
It was not only Sam’s face that was white…Aragorn was staring down in horror… Everyone began talking at once…
“Wait…look…” Pippin tugged on Merry’s sleeve…
Merry peered closer. Frodo twitched a little…“Be quiet everyone!“ Merry ordered…but no one was paying attention, except for Gandalf who heard Merry and Pippin.
“Quiet!“ the wizard ordered…and that…they paid attention too…Down on the ledge…Frodo tried to move…but only a tiny groan could be heard.
“He’s alive!” Sam cried out, clutching Frodo‘s cloak. “Quick…we must get down there…”
“No.” Aragorn shook his head, “Legolas…do you see what I see?” He ran his fingers through his hair shaking sweat from his brow.
“Yes, Estel…” Legolas nodded soberly. “I see what he’s landed on…none of you can go to get him…”
“What is it? What do you mean?” Sam rose shakily.
“That is a particular plant that grows around here…to elves…it matters little…for we do not suffer the way that the first-born do. I’m afraid your master just fell on a ‘Lasse-Agenor’ plant. Or…in the common tongue…a fellfire leaf bush…”
Sam -knew- what that was. “In the shire we call it Poison Ivy. Oh dear….poor Mr. Frodo…” he gazed down at the site and then up at Aragorn who was working a way out to get down there…even if it meant exposing himself to the leaf.
“You’re not thinking of going down, are you?” Gandalf spoke quietly, “Do be sensible, Aragorn…and let Legolas go. He is the only one of us who will not be affected.”
“He needs me.” Aragorn argued grimly.
“He is going to need you yes….but he is going to need your strength now. So let Legolas go, and we’ll prepare the rope.” Gandalf laid a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder kindly. The ranger stiffened, gazing down at the hobbit, his heart in his mouth. He must be in terrible pain…had I only been a moment sooner…had I been paying attention rather than…forcing myself not to look at him….its my fault…if he dies…
Aragorn shook himself and took the rope that Boromir brought up, they wrapped it around nearby rock and lowered it. Legolas tested the strength of the rope and they held it tight as the elf shimmed down to the ledge with more ease than any of them would.
Down on the ledge Frodo stirred…and tried to turn around. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him and was finding it difficult to breathe. He had been so stupid! So careless…what would Strider think of him…hot tears began to roll down his cheeks as he struggled to compose himself. His head hurt terribly and he couldn’t lift himself up. Several agonizing minutes passed and he thought he could hear the others up above…their dull voices whispering.
Someone touched his shoulder and he grimaced, “Strider…” he smiled, “Strider…I’m sorry…”
“Don’t talk Little one, Let me assess the damage.” Legolas…but where was Aragorn…The elf turned Frodo over and pulled him off of the bush into his arms. He gasped, cursing in the elven tongue. That was where the blood was from. There was an open gash in Frodo’s head…it would require stitching. And he’d definitely been exposed to the ivy,
Frodo looked up at the elf and he closed his eyes, not wanting to believe it was anyone but Aragorn. “It hurts…I can’t move…” he whimpered softly. “Help me…Strider…I’m sorry…”
“Sorry for what, Frodo? You lost your footing…it happens, Little One….Shhh now.” the elf crooned, taking a bit of cloth out from his pocket and tightening it around Frodo’s head, binding the wound as best he could. “Come on now…” Legolas was pretty sure that nothing else was broken…upon quick examination. He tied the pack to the rope so the others could haul it up. After that, he lifted the hobbit up into his arms, “Wrap your legs around me, and hold tightly Frodo, tightly as you can. I need you to do that…I’m taking you back up.”
“Yes…” Frodo whispered. He leaned forward and kissed the elf’s neck as he settled his head down painfully, he was feeling strange…giddy… “Alright Strider…I’ll try…I….it hurts…and I feel dizzy….Please…”
Legolas started at the kiss. Well…well…He would be amused if the situation was not quite so serious. “it’s alright Frodo.” he reassured the hobbit gently and held him as best he could with one arm as he began to make the precarious climb up.
“Strider…?” Frodo whispered in Legolas’ ear.
The elf grunted. Trying his best to keep his concentration on the task at hand. The last thing he needed was a delirious, emotional hobbit. “Hush now, Frodo. Just relax…and don’t look down.”
“Alright.” Frodo clung…but every part of his body ached and his head was swimming. Just before he passed out, the hobbit smiled tenderly and nestled himself just above the elf’s hips…atop a certain…sensitive area. The elf went red and nearly lost his grip on the rope. Elbereth…Aragorn had some explaining to do. He glared at the human as he finally made it up the rope and deposited the hobbit into the Ranger’s waiting arms. No one had any idea what had put the elf in a huff as Legolas stalked off to get some water..
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