Chapter 8
Aragorn stood at the curtain for several moments, unsure of whether or not to enter, he held his hand on the side and listened but all he heard was a whimper here and there…and Sam offering words of comfort. Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer, he walked in. “Frodo?” he looked over at the makeshift bed and sighed as the hobbit turned his face away and hid against Sam. “Gandalf said you only ate a little of what was put out for you…you need your strength.”
Frodo didn’t answer. He clutched Sam who looked over his shoulder. Sam was holding Frodo with both arms, one hand rubbing his hair carefully. “He’s …. “ Sam’s eyes were stern as he regarded the ranger, “He’ll finish it later, just give him some time…he‘s in awful pain. And pardon me for saying so, Mr. Strider…but I don’t think you should be in here.”
Aragorn was no fool, and his gaze was sharp. The blanket was low off of Frodo’s back for only a moment…and that was when he saw them…beginning to form around Frodo’s right shoulder blade, little bumps…of varying sizes. A patch of them about two in diameter surrounding a particular red section of irritated skin.
Frodo whimpered again and squirmed in Sam’s arms, he desperately wanted to scratch his back again…but Aragorn was here…and he didn’t want him to know and didn’t want his help. Sam was all he wanted right now. But he finally gave in and reached around to scratch at the spot Aragorn was staring at. The ranger was quick, however and stopped Frodo’s hand.
“What are you doing?” Sam glared at him. “Can’t you just leave him alone? Haven’t you done enough?” The Hobbit’s gaze was piercing and normally would have caused the ranger to leave Frodo in peace, but not with what he’d seen. He picked up the hobbit, and turned him around so he lay face down on the bed. He didn’t ask…nor did he allow Sam to prevent him from doing it. He pulled the blanket down and had a look at what he feared he might see.
Frodo tried to protest, wriggling and trying to push himself up “How dare you!” he choked out. Between Sam struggling with him, and keeping Frodo down on the bed, Aragorn had a hard time of it, but the Ranger was not going to be beaten. It was as he thought. He quickly looked down and up to see that more patches were forming. Then he drew off the blanket entirely. “N-no…don’t….” Frodo pleaded. Sam finally stopped struggling to prevent the ranger from what he was doing when he saw what Aragorn saw.
The patches were beginning to form everywhere. Underneath the edge of his left buttocks was a particular bad case. Aragorn turned Frodo around, much to the hobbits embarrassment and checked out the front half of his body...there too. Right in the inside of his leg running up and down just under the dark hairs between his legs. Aragorn looked up at Frodo's head, trying to see if it had spread to his face yet. He lifted up the hobbit's thick curls, sighing when he saw some behind the hobbits ear...trailing down his neck. "What is it?" Sam asked breathlessly, pulling the blanket back over his flustered master while Frodo kept his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t want to look at Aragorn...he didn’t want to see the pity...he couldn’t bear it. Frodo sniffled.
“I’m not sure.” Aragorn said at last, he ran his fingers up and down a patch on Frodo’s belly, causing the hobbit to shiver. “Its not the ivy…” he frowned. “Its something else…poison ivy bumps don’t get this large…and are usually just patches of red irritated skin.”
“Its nothing.” Frodo whispered at last. “Just…let me rest. Please…” he didn’t open his eyes though, reaching over to clutch at Sam’s hand.
“Do they itch, Frodo?” Aragorn’s voice was crisp and clinical. He reached down and stroked the side of Frodo’s head gently, though the hobbit flinched at first…then gave in and accepted the touch.
He was too miserable not to feel relieved at the warmth of the rangers fingers against his head. He squirmed just a little bit as his back was flaming...if he said yes...Aragorn would stay...and...was that what he wanted? Did it really matter whether or not Aragorn was pledged to another? If all that Frodo was ever going to get was a few moments alone and...a touch here and there...could he handle it? He didn't need. anything else. He’d lived without it for fifty years...he'd accepted long ago that he'd live life alone in the end. If all that Aragorn could give was comfort in times such as these...then he’d take what he could get. He’d push his feelings deep down...and keep his desires in control. He'd no longer think about what it would be like to be loved...it wasn’t his destiny. Frodo opened his eyes and looked up at Aragorn...and what he saw there made him catch his breath. All his resolve was peeling away and he felt...almost as though he was drowning. He swallowed and nodded briefly, "Yes...terribly." he said in a small voice.
Aragorn smiled when Frodo responded to him, he looked over at Sam who was watching him suspiciously. “I need Gandalf…he’ll know what is going on. He has much experience in this kind of thing when dealing with the firstborn. He should be outside with the others. Can you bring him?”
Sam frowned, he didn’t want to leave Frodo alone with Aragorn. He shook his head and held his ground, face stern and unyielding. “I think its better if you go. I’ll stay here with Mr. Frodo.”
“Its alright Sam.” Frodo said softly, “Its alright now. I’m safe with Aragorn…” he took a deep breath. “Find Gandalf…please?”
“If you’re sure, Mr. Frodo” Sam knew his master’s heart and was not about to let the ranger break it again. Frodo nodded slowly and Sam looked over at the ranger, “You be careful with him…he’s not himself.” With that, the gardner turned on his heel and strode out.
At last alone, Aragorn tucked the blanket up about Frodo, and tried to get him to drink some of the tea that Legolas had made. Frodo took a little sip and kept his eyes on the ranger, trying hard to avoid itching….but the temptation was strong…especially in most inconvenient places. “I’m sorry about earlier, Frodo.” he said softly, whisps of thick black hair curled in his fingers as he stroked the side of the Ringbearer’s head. “That’s something we should talk about…I have to explain…about Arwen..”
“N-no…” the hobbit shook his head, Frodo buried the pain away and reached up to lace his fingers with Aragorn’s. “No, its alright. You don’t have to say anything…I…I understand. I’m sorry to have … been so odd…It won’t happen again…”
Aragorn sighed a little, Frodo plainly -didn’t- understand…but he was in too much pain to really do so and he decided to bide his time. Frodo then began to whimper and squirm. “What is it?”
“My b-back…” he said at last…”Hurts…like fire…” he tried to use his free hand to reach around by he couldn’t quite do so in the position he was in.
“You shouldn’t scratch Frodo…” Aragorn warned gently.
“It hurts…I can’t help it…Aragorn please…let me…” The small hobbit begged, his eyes gazing up at the man earnestly.
The ranger sighed...and never could resist those eyes before, what difference did this time make? Deftly he turned the hobbit over, wishing for a moment that he was in the bed…it would make this easier. Frodo could then lie across his legs…and…he shook himself mentally. "Where does it itch?”
“Everywhere…” Frodo complained…”But mostly….mostly lower…Please…” he tried to indicate with his hand, reaching across. Aragorn moved his hand over a few of the places where the patches were forming, scratching lightly but clearly…though this was nice for the hobbit…they weren’t the areas that was making him the most uncomfortable.
Aragorn nodded and moved to the small of his back where a particularly red bit was, but Frodo shook his head, "N-no"...the hobbit grunted a little and held Argorn's wrist...pushing it down...to his inner thigh. Frodo tried very hard not to feel a shiver of pleasure ripple through his body. Though the pain made up for it and he cried softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. Whatever he could get..
“Here?” Aragorn smiled a little, indeed, this patch was particularly large and the rangers long fingers began to work.