The Misty Marshes Chapter VI : "Found..."
Frodo gazed up at the mist above him, shivering. It had been hours since the last drink
that he’d had…the Canteen was empty and he had not been able to drag himself
anywhere to refill it. His lips were parched and he could barely swallow. He drifted in
and out of consciousness every time wishing that the darkness would just consume him
finally.
And yet…somewhere…he heard voices…
And he could almost feel Arwen’s smile…Arwen’s presence…willing him to
live. Aragorn’s determination…why? They weren’t here. They were in Gondor
and not even thinking about him, probably…
But…
Then something happened.
He felt something against his cheek…he didn’t open his eyes, afraid it would
just be another mirage…dream…
His head was lifted up and settled into a soft lap…and a cold cloth….damp with
water was being pressed against his skin while hands worked to undo his shirt. He had no
strength left to resist…whatever it was that they wanted. Water…against his
lips…from smooth fingers. A little at first, trickling drops …he drank eagerly,
suckling the fingers that fed him the sweet liquid.
His eyes hurt to much to open them again and he nestled into the lap…smelling softly
of primroses. There were only two people in the world who smelt that way…his
mother…and…Arwen…she had adopted a perfume that he had liked in Rivendell
while he was healing…did he dare to believe?
Muffled voices…he could only hear disjointed words for his ears felt like they were
stuffed with cotton. Speaking in elvish…
“He is weak…” Aragorn’s voice…but how could Strider be here?
Strider was in Gondor….
“Dying. I can feel him fading…” Arwen…she was here. Strider and Arwen
together…they had come for him? But…he was confused. What would they be doing
out here? It had to be his imagination…
“Frodo…Frodo can you hear me?” Aragorn said gently, the man had unbuttoned
his shirt and was cleaning his damp and clammy chest. It was so difficult to
breathe…he would have replied…if he could have formed a coherent word.
Instead…he simply mumbled.
But the presence of the two people he loved best in the world was calming him…Frodo
let them work, not moving a muscle except to drink the liquid that he had been without so
long. His shirt was off now, and the ranger was working on removing his grasstained, dirty
pants. He must look horrible…They slid off along with his underwear…and he felt
himself being shifted…cradled in Arwen’s arms, nestling his head against her
chest.
They cleaned him still, everywhere. He felt cool water and cloths washing away the built
up sweat and grime…then he was wrapped in two blankets…though he felt terribly
hot…he didn’t want anything on…and he fussed…kicking a the layering of
wool. “No Frodo…” Arwen’s voice.
Aragorn was making something now…he could tell from the smell…
Arwen continued to hold him despite his efforts at throwing the blankets off. Finally he
lost the strength to even do that and simply lay there. Too exhausted to fight and simply
too weary to drink any more than he had. He shook his head when more was pressed to his
lips.
“You must drink, Frodo.” Aragorn chided gently.
“Why…?” he finally was able to gasp out through a hoarse voice sounding
barely like a whisper to him.
“So you can get well.” Arwen said with some surprise….yet she was not
entirely surprised given Frodo’s condition when they had found him only a few hours
before.
“Tired…” he snuggled against her chest, laying his head between her
breasts, and clutching her. “dreaming anyway..”
“This is not a dream, Frodo.” Aragorn found one of his hands and brought it to
his lips, kissing softly. He weakly stroked the man’s cheek, feeling the rough
stubble.
“Strider?” he moaned in pain as his body began to shiver again.
“C…cold…now…Sooo cold…Icicles…. freezing…
help…”
Aragorn immediately came to the other side of his queen and they nestled the hobbit
between them, pulling another blanket over him and using their own body heat to warm him.
Yet still he shivered… crying out in pain.
The fire was now going and there was nothing more they could do but wait for their recent
attentions to take some effect. Arwen continued to press water to Frodo’s lips
despite his protestations…and Aragorn rubbed his hands up and down the hobbit’s
arms…generating heat in the chilled body.
Finally…he calmed a little…and after Arwen cleaned his eyes with the small cloth
he opened one…and the other…blinking through tears. They were with him…
“How?…” he gasped, choking a little on his own word. Clearly talking
wasn’t an option yet.
“Shhh…” Arwen said gently, “Don’t try and talk. Love, you left
Bag End…we came to find you. Sam said you were sick. You’re safe now.
You…didn’t get my letter…Don’t worry now…my little one.
Shhh…”
Frodo looked over at Aragorn, he was caressing the man’s cheek…trying to make
sure that he was there. “Strider…”
“Yes, Frodo. We’re here now.” he assured the small hobbit softly.
“I’m sorry…sorry to be so much trouble…You
shouldn’t…be…here…kingdom…” Frodo whimpered.
“Hush.” Aragorn said gently, tucking his hand back under the blanket. “The
Kingdom will have to wait. Nothing matters right now but you.”
Yet he couldn’t believe it…they had found him. He had been so lost. Then he felt
something around his neck…he ventured up…it wasn’t lost! He looked up at
Arwen, tears in his eyes. “I … I thought…”
“Shhhh now.” she encouraged him again. “Don’t talk anymore, it hurts
your throat.” Arwen brushed a curl out of his eyes and gave him one of her special
smiles…the kind that made you feel like you were her entire world…and the sun
shone down upon you at that very moment.
He closed his eyes and gave a sigh, finally settling enough for them to do what they
needed. He wouldn’t fuss any more…they were here….
At least…
He hoped they were…what if he woke and it was all a dream? Just his imagination…
As he drifted to sleep once again he heard the following spoken over him as the ranger and
his queen attempted to help the hobbit to survive his ordeal.
“He’s delirious…” Aragorn told Arwen softly.
“We must get him somewhere warm, to Bree?”
“We can’t move him yet…we will in a few hours.”
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