Clear Shot 2
Oct. 28th, 2002 07:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Title: The Clear Shot 2/?
Author: Claudia
Rating: PG13
Summary: Faramir and Boromir are on a hunting trip just inside the Shire. Boromir accidentally shoots a hobbit…
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and mhnake no money from them.
Story Notes: Yikes! Another young!injured!Frodo! What’s wrong with me? :-)
And for purpose of story, Frodo and Faramir and Boromir are about the same age, in their early twenties…
Yes. I have absolutely NO other fics that I should be working on…right? Right? (stupid muses dictating what I do…)
The Clear Shot 2
Boromir threw more kindling onto the newly started fire, barely looking at Faramir and Frodo. Faramir knew his brother well, knew he suffered from horrendous guilt. He had never been good at expressing feelings of vulnerability, and Faramir could almost hear the whir of thoughts in his mind, justifying what had happened as an inevitable accident that could have been prevented if the halfling had never left his house.
Frodo had lost consciousness during the short trek to the camp site. Faramir had set the halfling on his back, careful not to disturb the arrow. He tried to remember everything he knew about arrow wounds. He did not want to pull it out, fearing to do fatal damage, but they were still two days from Bree. If he left it in Frodo’s body, he feared infection and shock.
Faramir lay a folded blanket under Frodo’s feet to raise his feet above the ground. A second blanket he put over Frodo’s legs. He could not cover the arrow, but at least he could keep the halfling’s lower body warm. He felt along the soft skin of Frodo’s neck for a pulse and he was rewarded by a faint, rapid flutter. If something was not done soon to ease his shock, Frodo was going to die.
“Boromir!” Faramir called. “I need your help.”
“I’m making certain the fire is—“
Now was not the time for self-indulgence. “I need your help now!”
Boromir threw the last twigs on the fire and kneeled beside his brother. “How is the halfling?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“We need to get the arrow out, but I fear to do worse damage.”
Boromir shook his head. “You cannot pull it out. You will kill him for certain.”
“Why do you say this?”
“If the arrow is embedded deep enough, it may tear something inside and he will bleed to death. I’ve seen it happen with battle wounds. We cannot take it out.”
“What do you suggest then? We cannot leave it inside him. He will get blood poisoning.”
Boromir swallowed. He looked down at the pale halfling, watched his chest move up and down in shallow breaths. “The best thing would be to get him to Bree. Though.” He shut his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh. “The people of Bree know nothing about battle wounds, and the treatment will be rustic at best. Still, it is better than what we can do for him in the wild.” He looked at Faramir. “We must make certain we save him. Father…I can only imagine what Father will have to say about this.” He shook his head. “So irresponsible. So careless.”
Faramir’s rage nearly bubbled over. Frodo’s life hung by a delicate thread, he was far from his home, probably terrified out of his mind by being taken by two armed men, and all Boromir seemed to care about was whether Father would be displeased. Sometimes he believed his brother had spent too much time training with hardened soldiers. How Boromir could not look upon this halfling and feel anything but horrified pity, Faramir could not understand.
“I care not what Father thinks,” Faramir said in a barely controlled voice. “What matters is that we are able to right this wrong and make certain that Frodo gets the treatment he needs. Now if we cannot take the arrow out, what do we do?” He shook his head and spoke more quietly, more to himself than to Boromir. “With the small amount of training I have in healing, I still feel helpless.”
Boromir at least had the decency to look abashed by Faramir’s strong words, and his voice was surprisingly humble. “We will need something to stabilize the arrow so it does not do more damage.”
“Then quickly cut for me some pieces of cloth from our bedrolls,” Faramir said. “But before you do that, get some water boiling on the fire. We need clean water to cleanse the area around the wound and stop the bleeding.”
Boromir did as he was told as Faramir continued to sit beside Frodo. The halfling’s skin was smooth and fair, and though his eyes were now closed, Faramir remembered their vivid color, like a sky unblemished by clouds. The hobbit looked more as Faramir imagined the elves than as Mithrandir had described the halflings.
Frodo opened his eyes and immediately winced in pain. He looked up at the darkening sky, breathing sharply in pain. His face twisted and a tear ran down his cheeks. His breaths grew more rapid as he focused on Faramir.
“It is all right,” Faramir said in a soothing voice. “We are going to help you.”
“You…you shot me?” Frodo asked in a whisper. “Did…did I do… something wrong…or trespass?”
Faramir shook his head, moved to sickening pity by the innocence of the question. “No, no. It was a terrible accident. My brother thought you were a deer.”
“A deer…” Frodo looked puzzled as he spoke in a halting, barely audible voice. “Why…why would you…shoot a deer? They do…not harm anyone.”
Faramir was about to agree, pleased to have found someone who was of the same opinion about the shooting of beasts, when Frodo’s face contorted in new pain. He grabbed the ground, clenching the dirt and grass, and cried out. New blood – thick and dark -- bubbled up around the embedded arrow.
“Frodo,” Faramir whispered. He placed his hands on Frodo’s cheeks and held him steady. “Boromir!” he shouted. “Quickly!”
Boromir ran to them with the strips of cloth.
“I wish I had something for his pain,” Faramir said through clenched teeth. “This is difficult to watch.”
“You must divert his attention,” Boromir said. “In battle there are never enough herbs to ease the pain. You must make the person forget about it.”
Boromir wrapped a thick cloth around the arrow until it was stable. The cloth was immediately soaked by blood. “How old are you, little one?”
Faramir shook his head. Boromir acted as though he were dealing with a child.
“Twenty…twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five?” Boromir chuckled a bit in disbelief. “I think I need to speak to your father. That would make you older than us. Come now, what is your father’s name so I can speak to him?”
Frodo did not smile, and in fact his eyes seemed to cloud over with more pain. “Drogo Baggins, but…he died…thirteen years ago.”
Boromir’s smile faded and he flushed. He secured more cloth over the blood soaked cloth. “There, Frodo. That will have to do for now. We’ll get you to Bree.” He patted the halfling’s shoulder. “There now. What is your favorite thing to do?”
Frodo took several shallow breaths. His hand weakly sought out the arrow, but Faramir held his hand back. “Do not touch it.”
“I like to read. Uncle Bilbo…taught…he taught me…I like to look at nature…” Frodo suddenly threw his head back and his face contorted in pain again. Sweat broke out on Frodo’s face as he clutched Faramir’s hand. Faramir winced at the surprising strength in the hobbit’s grip. Frodo had kicked the blanket off in his struggle. Faramir tucked it over his legs again.
“Why is he in so much pain?” Faramir asked in confusion. “It seems excessive for such a wound.”
Boromir did not answer right away. He seemed lost in a horrifying thought.
“Boromir!” Faramir said. “You have more experience in battle wounds --”
“I must check something.”
Boromir got up abruptly, his face grim.
“Perhaps we should try to get to Bree right away,” Faramir said, watching Frodo’s shallow breathing. “He needs immediate treatment. We cannot linger here.”
Boromir did not answer. He pulled out his arrows and examined them. He sighed in distress, and Faramir looked at him in concern.
“What is it?”
Boromir’s face was naked with guilt and fear.
“There is poison on my arrows.”
TBC
Go on to next part
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AHHH!
Date: 2002-10-28 06:37 am (UTC)That was cruel.
(tapping foot expectantly)
WELL?! What next?!!!
no subject
Date: 2002-10-28 10:38 am (UTC)Noooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2002-10-28 12:44 pm (UTC)The innocense of Frodo here really gets to me---I feel like Faramir! And again, I can see Boromir dancing between guilt and blame--hope he does the right thing by Frodo and helps him out.
Wow, I'm adoring this story, Claudia... another one of my faves by you (aren't they all, though? :) )
Yikes!
Date: 2002-10-28 02:46 pm (UTC)But seriously, whoa.
no subject
Date: 2002-10-28 06:13 pm (UTC)"Frodo, darling."
"Mmmmm?" From where he lay, Frodo turned his head, twisting to look back over his shoulder at Claudia.
"Will you ever forgive me for writing that story about you being shot with a poisoned arrow?"
"Mmmmm." A little smirk pulled the corner of Frodo's mouth. "I might. I might...if...you make it up to me."
The little smirk grew into a big, wicked grin.
Claudia grinned back and set about seeing what she could do to make it up to Frodo.
no subject
Date: 2002-10-28 07:30 pm (UTC)Oh, hell yes!
no subject
Date: 2002-10-28 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-10-28 07:56 pm (UTC)I may seem cruel...
Date: 2002-10-29 06:27 am (UTC)Re: I may seem cruel...
Date: 2002-10-29 05:34 pm (UTC)