After the Fall, PG
Title: After the Fall 1/1
Author: Claudia
Rating: PG
Summary: Frodo recovers from a fall.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money
from them.
Frodo squinted against the bright sunlight that streamed in
the window. He pulled his covers to his chin. In bed in the
House of Healing again. Something had happened, though he
could not remember much at all. The last memory he had was
of enjoying a walk in the fine spring weather of Minas
Tirith. He had seen Prince Faramir, and he had waved, eager
to talk to the Man, but after that he could not remember
anything. Something was wrapped around his foot and he saw
that his foot was propped on a pillow, elevated above the
other. Suddenly another memory assailed him, of Aragorn
forcing him to swallow some hot but vile-tasting liquid down
his throat when his head and foot throbbed with fierce
agony. He had been furious at the new king of Gondor for
adding to his misery. Frodo's hand crept up to the bandage
that he felt around his brow. Touching the wound caused it
to flare with pain, and he quickly withdrew his hand.
He remembered now.
He could not believe his evil luck. He had been enjoying a
fine walk, feeling better than he had since the end of the
quest, and eager for a familiar face, he was glad when he
saw Faramir at the bottom of a spiral of stone steps. He
called out to Faramir in greeting, and Faramir grinned and
beckoned for him to join him. Before Frodo knew what was
happening, he was tumbling out of control down the steps.
Something wrenched his ankle, but he blacked out before he
could feel more pain.
Aragorn stepped into the room. "I'm glad to see you're
awake, dear Frodo, though I had hoped to be here when you
did so as to make certain you do not move that ankle."
"Is it broken?" Frodo did not dare move at all, for fear of
causing the ankle to throb. For the moment, it did not hurt
at all, and he did not want anything to change that.
"You twisted it in your fall, but thankfully, it is not
broken. We were more concerned with the knock on your head.
You should have seen how pale and anxious Faramir was when
he brought you here - he thought you had survived your quest
only to die at the bottom of a flight of steps."
Frodo smiled in contentment, snuggling in his blanket. "I
do not feel much pain right now. I've got a bit of a
headache."
"That will fade soon. I am sorry, but I must give you more
of the tea that you fought so hard against last night."
"Oh, dear." Frodo looked at Aragorn. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, unless you want that ankle to start hurting again
soon."
"I suppose I must then," Frodo said with a sigh. He tried
to scoot his body without moving his foot so that he was
sitting up, propped against the pillows. A wild dizziness
overtook him, and he froze, clutching his blanket with a
grimace of pain. Aragorn gripped him by his shoulders and
eased him back into a lying position.
"Frodo, you cannot move yet. Just stay still."
Frodo did not answer as the room spun out of control. He
clutched at Aragorn's hands, desperate for any anchor
against the wild spinning. He tried to close his eyes, but
that only made it worse. Finally, it slowed and stabilized,
and he dared to open his eyes again. "There now," he said
with a nervous laugh. "That's better. I'm sorry, Aragorn."
Aragorn shook his head. "You do not need to be sorry. I
just do not want you to move much at all for another day.
By tomorrow your head should be in much better shape. Now
swallow this." Aragorn tilted Frodo's chin so that the
hobbit could swallow the vile tea. Frodo tried not to smell
it. He tried to pretend it was the cinnamon tea Bilbo used
to fix for him long ago in Bag End. He gagged on the first
swallow, but Aragorn rubbed his back soothingly and waited
for him to be ready to swallow more. He gulped the rest
down before he could taste anything.
"Good, good," Aragorn said, adjusting the blankets on
Frodo's bed. "Much better than last night."
"All right, that is done," Frodo said and grimaced at the
memory of the vile tea. He took in a deep breath and asked,
"Where is Sam?"
"He hardly left your side last night, so I sent him to
sleep."
"Bless him," Frodo murmured, closing his eyes. "Even now he
cannot leave my side."
Aragorn smiled and put his hand on Frodo's brow. "Sleep
now."
Frodo did not answer. He had already slipped into a content
sleep.
END
Author: Claudia
Rating: PG
Summary: Frodo recovers from a fall.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money
from them.
Frodo squinted against the bright sunlight that streamed in
the window. He pulled his covers to his chin. In bed in the
House of Healing again. Something had happened, though he
could not remember much at all. The last memory he had was
of enjoying a walk in the fine spring weather of Minas
Tirith. He had seen Prince Faramir, and he had waved, eager
to talk to the Man, but after that he could not remember
anything. Something was wrapped around his foot and he saw
that his foot was propped on a pillow, elevated above the
other. Suddenly another memory assailed him, of Aragorn
forcing him to swallow some hot but vile-tasting liquid down
his throat when his head and foot throbbed with fierce
agony. He had been furious at the new king of Gondor for
adding to his misery. Frodo's hand crept up to the bandage
that he felt around his brow. Touching the wound caused it
to flare with pain, and he quickly withdrew his hand.
He remembered now.
He could not believe his evil luck. He had been enjoying a
fine walk, feeling better than he had since the end of the
quest, and eager for a familiar face, he was glad when he
saw Faramir at the bottom of a spiral of stone steps. He
called out to Faramir in greeting, and Faramir grinned and
beckoned for him to join him. Before Frodo knew what was
happening, he was tumbling out of control down the steps.
Something wrenched his ankle, but he blacked out before he
could feel more pain.
Aragorn stepped into the room. "I'm glad to see you're
awake, dear Frodo, though I had hoped to be here when you
did so as to make certain you do not move that ankle."
"Is it broken?" Frodo did not dare move at all, for fear of
causing the ankle to throb. For the moment, it did not hurt
at all, and he did not want anything to change that.
"You twisted it in your fall, but thankfully, it is not
broken. We were more concerned with the knock on your head.
You should have seen how pale and anxious Faramir was when
he brought you here - he thought you had survived your quest
only to die at the bottom of a flight of steps."
Frodo smiled in contentment, snuggling in his blanket. "I
do not feel much pain right now. I've got a bit of a
headache."
"That will fade soon. I am sorry, but I must give you more
of the tea that you fought so hard against last night."
"Oh, dear." Frodo looked at Aragorn. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, unless you want that ankle to start hurting again
soon."
"I suppose I must then," Frodo said with a sigh. He tried
to scoot his body without moving his foot so that he was
sitting up, propped against the pillows. A wild dizziness
overtook him, and he froze, clutching his blanket with a
grimace of pain. Aragorn gripped him by his shoulders and
eased him back into a lying position.
"Frodo, you cannot move yet. Just stay still."
Frodo did not answer as the room spun out of control. He
clutched at Aragorn's hands, desperate for any anchor
against the wild spinning. He tried to close his eyes, but
that only made it worse. Finally, it slowed and stabilized,
and he dared to open his eyes again. "There now," he said
with a nervous laugh. "That's better. I'm sorry, Aragorn."
Aragorn shook his head. "You do not need to be sorry. I
just do not want you to move much at all for another day.
By tomorrow your head should be in much better shape. Now
swallow this." Aragorn tilted Frodo's chin so that the
hobbit could swallow the vile tea. Frodo tried not to smell
it. He tried to pretend it was the cinnamon tea Bilbo used
to fix for him long ago in Bag End. He gagged on the first
swallow, but Aragorn rubbed his back soothingly and waited
for him to be ready to swallow more. He gulped the rest
down before he could taste anything.
"Good, good," Aragorn said, adjusting the blankets on
Frodo's bed. "Much better than last night."
"All right, that is done," Frodo said and grimaced at the
memory of the vile tea. He took in a deep breath and asked,
"Where is Sam?"
"He hardly left your side last night, so I sent him to
sleep."
"Bless him," Frodo murmured, closing his eyes. "Even now he
cannot leave my side."
Aragorn smiled and put his hand on Frodo's brow. "Sleep
now."
Frodo did not answer. He had already slipped into a content
sleep.
END