S.R. 1391, September 26
Aragorn kept his hands above the water as long as he could, but as he tired, his arms dropped and his hands sank back down, slowly succumbing again to the numbing cold. He tried desperately to will himself elsewhere, to think of Arwen, or the Hall of Fire, but he was starting to shiver so hard, he could scarcely think at all. Someone was shouting…
“Estel!” Frodo yelled from the top of the bank, alarmed that his friend didn’t seem to be aware of him. “Aragorn!” The Ranger suddenly looked up at him, and nodded that he had heard, but didn’t answer.
“Hang on!”
Frantic with worry, Frodo was about to run back up the trail to hurry everyone up, when Sam, Arthad, and then Bilbo came into view. Bilbo dropped the rope and came to stand next to Frodo, quickly assessing the situation. Aragorn stood chest-deep in the frigid pond, about twenty feet below them and a dozen feet out into the water. Without a word, Bilbo knelt and worked the end of the rope into a large, loose, slipknot.
“Bilbo,” said Frodo urgently, “let me take it to him.”
Bilbo stood up, the loop of rope in his hands. He looked at Frodo gravely. “Let’s give this one try first.” With all his strength, Bilbo threw the rope out into the water. The loop landed directly in front of Aragorn.
“Aragorn, grab the rope!” Frodo screamed. “Aragorn!” He watched, panic-stricken, as the Ranger reached for the rope, but was unable to grasp it in his numbed hands. He tried again, but by then it had drifted out of his reach.
“All right,” muttered Bilbo. He turned to Frodo and grabbed the boy’s shoulders. “Go on, Frodo. Just get the loop over his shoulders and pull it tight, then get back here.” He gave the boy a quick hug. “Whatever you do, don’t let your feet touch the bottom of that pond, Frodo-lad.”
Frodo nodded, wide-eyed, and grabbed the rope. With Bilbo and Sam holding onto the coil to anchor it, Frodo let himself down over the edge of the bank, and quickly dropped, hand over hand, to the edge of the pond. He yelped as his feet touched the frigid water, and his breath caught for a moment. He couldn’t wait, there was no time… with a yell, Frodo flung himself into the water and swam out to join Aragorn.
“He’s shivering hard, Bilbo,” Frodo cried out, “and he’s awfully pale!”
“Hurry, Frodo,” Bilbo yelled back.
“It’s all right, Aragorn, we’ll get you out,” Frodo gasped, frightened by the Ranger’s silence. The water was so cold he could scarcely breathe --- how had Aragorn stood it this long? Treading water, he threw the loop over Aragorn’s head, then desperately pulled and pushed at the rope until the knot tightened around the Ranger’s chest, leaving his arms free.
Frodo waved an arm at Bilbo. “Pull!”
“Frodo, swim clear! Get back here!”
With one last anxious look at Aragorn, Frodo quickly splashed his way back to the bottom of the slope, then made his way up, grabbing fistfuls of the long grass to help himself scramble to the top.
Sam turned Arthad around and started him walking back up the trail until the rope dangling from the saddle grew taut. Aragorn felt the rope tighten about his chest until he could hardly breathe, then heard a tremendous sucking sound as the thick mud released his legs. Suddenly free, he found himself being pulled quickly through the water and up the slope, reaching the top at the same time as Frodo.
As Arthad pulled Aragorn over the top of the bank, Sam halted the horse. The Ranger slumped to his knees, shaking so hard he couldn’t speak, and Frodo raced to his side. The boy had his arms wrapped around himself, already shivering as the wind hit his wet skin.
Bilbo grabbed Frodo’s cloak from where it lay on the ground, and draped it around him. “Frodo, run back to camp and get out of those wet clothes,” he said urgently. “Wrap up in every blanket you can find, and stay by the fire.”
“But---”
“GO!” As Frodo ran off, Bilbo turned to Sam. “Samwise, help him. Then throw every stick on the fire; when you run out, gather more. But first, get this horse moving.”
Sam gave a few tugs on the reins to get Arthad walking forward again. When he let go of the reins and took a few steps backwards, Arthad followed him.
“He’s comin’, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam cried. “Ollie knows what to do.”
“Excellent, Sam. Now run, lad!” Sam dashed away, and Bilbo now focused all of his attention on Aragorn, still on his knees, silent and shivering.
“Get up, Aragorn. Get UP!” The rope about Aragorn’s waist caught and tightened as Arthad moved steadily forward, and the Ranger somehow made it to his feet.
“Move, Aragorn. Keep moving, that’s it.” Bilbo kept up a steady stream of encouragement as the Ranger staggered desperately forward, letting the rope pull him as he willed one foot in front of the other. He was soaked and freezing, his numbed, trembling hands curled at his sides.
We’re almost there, Bilbo thought, and at least he can still walk… if we can just get him warmed up… this wind… The sun was getting low in the sky, and he knew the air was about to get even chillier.
Arthad pulled Aragorn, stumbling on half-frozen feet, all the way to the campsite, only stopping when his master had fallen to his knees on a blanket in front of the fire before collapsing. Aragorn lay, shivering violently, as Bilbo swiftly loosened the knot and pulled the rope off him.
Bilbo took a quick look around. Frodo was sitting by the now-blazing fire, wrapped in several blankets with only his face showing. His wet clothes were strewn about nearby. Sam was running back and forth, dragging to the fire the biggest branches he could manage.
“Are you all right, Frodo-lad?” Bilbo cried.
“F..fine, Bilbo. I’m g..getting warmer.” Frodo looked anxiously at Aragorn. “Is he---”
“I’ll take care of him. You just stay bundled up.” Bilbo’s nimble fingers were quickly unlacing Aragorn’s muddy boots, and he eased them off the Ranger’s feet. “Samwise, look through his pack and see if he has any extra clothes.”
Sam pushed one more branch into the fire and raced over to Aragorn’s pack. In record time, he was at Bilbo’s side, breathing hard.
“Here, sir.” Sam dropped a pile of clothes next to Bilbo.
“That’s fine.” Bilbo started stripping off Aragorn’s sodden tunic, grateful that the wind was starting to diminish. “I know you’re tired, Sam, but if you can find more wood…” The boy raced off again.
Bilbo undid Aragorn’s lacings and clasps as fast as he could. Aragorn tried, feebly, to help him, but couldn’t get his fingers to obey him. He still hadn't said a word.
“It’s all right,” said Bilbo gently, “I can do it.” He eased the shivering Ranger out of his wet things and pulled dry clothing onto him. He then helped Aragorn to sit up, and draped him in the Ranger’s own large blanket, then several smaller, hobbit-sized ones, taking care to wrap his feet and cover his head. Aragorn sat huddled and shaking, his feet and hands starting to tingle and burn.
Slowly, as the heat from the blazing fire started to warm him, Aragorn began to feel drowsy. “N..need to lie down for a f..few m..minutes,” he murmured, through chattering teeth.
“No you don’t,” said Bilbo firmly. “You can lie down soon, but not yet. I need to get something warm inside you. Luckily, Sam and I were cooking dinner when Frodo came to get us.” He looked closely into the Ranger’s eyes, and felt his still-cold face. “Estel, are you injured?”
“N..no,” whispered Aragorn. “J..just c..cold still… my back aches a b..bit… and my legs…” He started breathing more deeply as his shivering started to lessen. “Tired…”
“You should be much warmer soon,” Bilbo assured him, “and then you can rest. How are your hands and feet?”
“B..burning… they hurt…”
“That’s good,” said Bilbo reassuringly. “You’re getting some feeling back in them. Now sit still, and I’ll be right back.”
“Bilbo… th..thank… you.”
Bilbo got to his feet. He was muddy and damp, and wouldn’t mind lying down for awhile himself, but he couldn’t rest, yet. He saw with approval that Sam had finished the cooking, and was ladling mounds of steaming meat and vegetables into bowls. Bilbo spread Aragorn’s wet clothes and boots out on the grass near the fire, then finally was able to sit down next to Frodo and pull his boy, blankets and all, into his arms.
“You’re safe,” murmured Bilbo. “You’re safe, Frodo-lad.”
“Oh, Bilbo, I know you were worried about me, but there wasn’t any other way to get him out.”
“I know,” Bilbo replied. He cupped Frodo’s face in his hands, relieved to feel the boy’s skin warming up.
“Please don’t be angry,” Frodo whispered.
“I’m not.” Bilbo kissed Frodo’s forehead and smiled at him. “I’m very proud of you.”
Frodo smiled happily at his uncle. “I’m feeling better now. Let me help with---”
“No,” said Bilbo. “You’re still shivering. Stay here by the fire and get some hot food inside you. Thank you, Sam.” He took the bowl Sam held out to him, and helped Frodo wriggle an arm free of the blankets so he could eat.
Bilbo then stood up and gave a Sam a hug.
“You’re a marvel, Samwise. Just sit down and have some dinner, now.” As Sam plopped down tiredly next to Frodo, Bilbo took another bowl of hot food, and a mug of tea, over to Aragorn. The Ranger looked up wearily as Bilbo felt his face again.
“You’re a little less frozen, I think,” said Bilbo. He was relieved to see that the Man was not shaking nearly as hard as he had been.
“Something about all this seems strangely familiar,” chuckled Aragorn as Bilbo began to feed him. He looked over at Frodo’s blanket-wrapped form. “How is Frodo?”
“He’ll be fine,” said Bilbo. “Here, now, this should help.” He helped Aragorn drink some of the sweet, hot tea, then fed him more dinner. “Stay with me, now. Stay awake a little longer.”
“I’m trying.” Aragorn took deep breaths to keep himself focused. “I’m sorry, Bilbo,” he said quietly. “I would never deliberately cause Frodo distress or harm.”
“I know,” Bilbo sighed. “Estel, if that boy had to endure the drowning of someone else he loves…” The old hobbit smiled tiredly. “…I would have been very angry with you.”
“Someone he… loves?” Aragorn stared into Bilbo’s piercing blue eyes.
“Of course. You’ve become more than a friend,” Bilbo said. “Frodo has come to think of you as a member of his family.” He smiled at the Ranger’s startled expression. “Have you a large family?”
“No. Hardly anyone.”
“You do now. I hope being an honorary, disreputable Baggins doesn’t displease you overmuch.”
“On the contrary,” replied Aragorn. “I am honored.” He surprised himself by yawning.
“It’s all right,” said Bilbo softly. “You can lie down now.” He eased Aragorn down, then covered him with several more blankets before turning his attention back to Frodo.
“Let’s get you taken care of, my boy.” Bilbo retrieved Frodo’s spare set of clothes from the cart, and helped him climb into dry shirt and breeches. Bilbo could see that Frodo was getting sleepy as well, and he let him lay down by the fire, well covered in blankets.
As hungry as he was, Sam had been too tired to eat much. After Frodo was settled down, Bilbo called out to Sam, who was putting covers over the pots of food. He held out his arms, and Sam stumbled over to him, exhausted from dragging so many heavy pieces of wood in such a short time. His face was dirty, and his hands were scraped. Bilbo gently washed the boy’s face and hands with some warmed water and soap, then sat down with Sam in his lap and held him close.
“I’m so proud of you, Sam-lad,” Bilbo said, rocking him slowly, “so very proud; I don’t know what I would have done without you. I know you’re very tired.”
“I… I’m all right,” Sam protested, “I can---”
“Shhh,” murmured Bilbo. “That’s enough for one day. Just rest.”
“Aren’t you tired, too, Mr. Bilbo?”
“A bit,” admitted Bilbo. More than a bit, he thought to himself.
“Who’s Aragorn?”
Bilbo smiled. “Estel has many names, Sam. That one is just for emergencies.”
“Oh.” Sam looked up at him. “It’s really been an amazin’ day, Mr. Bilbo.”
Bilbo chuckled quietly. “It really has.”
Just then, an owl hooted loudly nearby, and Sam looked about frantically in the early-evening twilight.
“Was that a goblin?”
“It’s just an owl --- it’s a large bird, but it won’t harm you.” Bilbo smiled at him. “I know it’s early yet, but do you think you can sleep?”
“Maybe I can sleep next to Mr. Estel,” said Sam. “I can help him be warmer.”
“Maybe you can, at that,” said Bilbo. They walked over to where Aragorn lay, drowsy but fighting sleep. Aragorn started to sit up.
“Bilbo, Frodo was so brave… I need… to tell him…”
“You can tell him yourself,” Bilbo said softly, “in the morning.” He knelt and guided Aragorn back down, and slipped a pillow underneath the Ranger’s head. “You can sleep, now. Sam will help keep you warm, and you can help him feel safer.”
“I can do that,” murmured Aragorn.
“Snuggle in there with him, Sam, and I’ll cover you up.”
Aragorn felt a small, warm body burrowing into his blankets as Sam curled into a contented, sleepy ball, and then heard a soft voice close to his ear.
“Ollie was awful worried about you, sir. But I told him you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Aragorn whispered, finally letting his eyelids slide shut.
Tired and dirty, Bilbo wrestled a log into the fire so it would burn steadily for many hours. He then dropped to his knees next to Frodo, taking some deep breaths and finally letting himself relax. Reaching for a bowl, he swallowed a few mouthfuls of food. He had done everything he could.
“Bilbo…” murmured Frodo. “I know it’s not bedtime yet, but I’m so… sleepy…”
“Being so cold is making you drowsy,” Bilbo said. “You don’t have to fight it, Frodo-lad. Close your eyes, now.” He lay down, and Frodo curled up against him.
“Is Estel all right?”
“Yes, and he’s worried about you, as well,” Bilbo assured him. “He’s even sleepier than you are, so you two will have to talk in the morning.”
“No one could be sleepier… than I am…” Frodo sighed, falling asleep almost instantly. Bilbo closed his eyes wearily, and thankfully held his brave lad, safe and sound, in his arms.
~*~
It was very late and quiet, and the stars were glittering overhead, when Aragorn awoke to the sound of a familiar voice.
“So, my friend, once again I find you wrapped in Bilbo’s blankets and being cared for by hobbits. What am I to do with you?”
The Ranger opened his eyes and lay blinking in the firelight, startled to find Gandalf kneeling next to him.
“Gandalf…” Aragorn could barely keep his eyes open. “What… are you doing here?”
“Just in the neighborhood, you might say.” The wizard felt the Ranger’s brow with a gentle hand. “I like to keep my eye on things.”
“You turn up… at the strangest times.” Just then, the tiny hobbit curled up in Aragorn’s blankets stirred briefly in his sleep, then was still. “I’m being well looked after,” Aragorn whispered with a smile.
“You are correct,” the wizard chuckled. “Wait until you hear what Bilbo was up to when I arrived.”
“Frodo…”
“He’s wrapped up snugly and fast asleep.” Gandalf pulled back enough of the blankets to see Sam’s golden curls and his peaceful little face. “And who is this?”
“Samwise Gamgee.”
“Ah, so this is Samwise.” Gandalf nodded to himself, then smiled at Aragorn. “Go back to sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning. I’ll keep the fire tended.”
“Arthad needs---”
“He’s fine,” Gandalf assured him, “bedded down as comfortably as you are.”
Aragorn nodded and closed his eyes, and felt Gandalf adjusting the blankets around him and Sam. The last thing he remembered, before falling back into oblivion, was the sweet scent of pipeweed.
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