Clear Shot 8

[claudia603]

Title: The Clear Shot
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 make 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…

I sometimes refer to Bilbo as Frodo’s uncle. I realize they were cousins.




Clear Shot 8


Bilbo opened blurry eyes as they passed through the gate to the village of Bree. He had been dozing again, his body weary from the hours of useless weeping. Gandalf’s arm was firmly around him.

“Have we reached…?” he asked dully. He had no strength, could not imagine how he would get off the horse and…do what he had to do.

“Yes.”

“Do you know…” Bilbo said. “Do you know where his…” He simply could not bear to refer to Frodo as a body. “…where he would…be?” Just the question left him breathless.

What he was about to face -- Frodo, his dark curls surrounding his still and pale face, his merry blue eyes closed forever -- brought fresh tears to Bilbo’s eyes. He had thought he was utterly spent of tears, that there could surely be none left. His chest ached from weeping.

Gandalf spoke in a low, soothing voice. “We will go to the healer, a good Man by the name of Mr. Rushlight and I am certain he will help us.”

In front of the healer’s cottage, Gandalf climbed off his horse and helped Bilbo down. Bilbo’s legs nearly gave out, and he clutched Gandalf’s arm for support. He straightened up, forcing himself to stand. He had to be strong now. For too many days, Frodo had been cold and lonely with nobody to hold his hand or tell him stories.

Once inside the cottage, Gandalf beckoned to a gruff man who was resting on a stool, head held in his hands.

“Gandalf!” The man jumped up. “What brings you to Bree?”

“It’s you I came to see,” Gandalf said.

“Me?” the healer asked, looking somewhat nervous. “Whatever can I help you with? I’m a little short of herbs, don’t have many to spare --”

“I’ve a hobbit here from the Shire by the name of Bilbo Baggins—“

The healer gasped, his eyes widening in delight. “Bilbo Baggins!…My, this is good news! Frodo’s been waiting for you! My, that message must have come to you fast! I’ll prepare him.”

Gandalf’s mouth parted slightly.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Bilbo said, his eyes widening with rage. “Show some respect at the very least. To you, Frodo might be nothing more than a little hobbit barely worth your attention, but he was everything to me.”

The healer looked at Bilbo, puzzled. “Good sir…I didn’t mean —“

Gandalf stepped to the healer, a stern look on his face. “Do you have the…is Frodo here?”

“Of course he is,” the healer said, his voice trembling, clearly shaken by the behavior of the wizard and elderly hobbit. “He’s still bedridden, but he’ll be on his feet in no time. He’s an otherwise healthy young hobbit—“

Bilbo reeled, clutching his chest. What the healer was saying…bedridden…On his feet soon…healthy? “What…what? How can--” Everything was turning fuzzy gray.

“I can see you can’t wait,” the healer said. “Follow me. He’s been so eager for you, Bilbo. Speaks constantly of you.”

“He’s not…?” Bilbo said in a gasp. The gray haze darkened his vision until he could barely breathe. Gandalf stared at the healer in shock.

“We were informed Frodo was dead,” he said quietly.

“Dead? Oh…oh, dear, no!” The healer covered his forehead with his hand. “What a shame that you received that message! Those men that brought him must have sent word to you…what a mess this has been. We’ve had a terrible misunderstanding. No wonder you spoke so to me.”

“Frodo was not slain by an arrow?” Gandalf persisted.

“No, no,” the healer said. “This is all my fault…That night I was exhausted beyond belief…there had been a terrible brawl in the street, many injured and a few killed, and we had just lost Sam Appledore, bless him, and…I mixed up the hobbits in my mind and told the men who brought your Frodo to us that he was dead. Then I could not find them afterwards.”

“Oh, my.” Gandalf said. His eyes were bright, and his lips twitched with joy.

“Frodo,” Bilbo gasped, holding his chest. “…alive?”

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said. “Sit down.” The wizard helped Bilbo to sit on a stool, gently pushing the hobbit’s head between his knees. Bilbo willed himself not to faint, taking in deep breaths over and over. He couldn’t lose consciousness, not when he had just heard the best news of his life. How many people were lucky enough to be told horrible news and then find out later it had been a mistake?

He had been blessed. So blessed.

“I must see him,” Bilbo gasped, springing to his feet. “I am all right, Gandalf. I must see him!”

“Follow me,” the healer said with a broad smile. “I am so happy to have this cleared up for you. Frodo will be overjoyed. I can’t tell you how fond I’ve become of him.”

Bilbo followed the healer down the corridor in a drugged daze, unable to believe that he was about to look upon an alive Frodo.

The healer opened the door. “Shh,” he said, lifting his finger to his mouth. “He is sleeping.”

Bilbo muffled his longing to cry out in strangled joy when he saw Frodo.

“Frodo, Frodo my lad.” Bilbo sank onto a stool beside the bed and clutched Frodo’s hand. He turned to the healer, tears in his eyes, and whispered. “Tell me…is he in any pain?”

“He’s much better than when they first brought him in. He’s in some pain, but it’s much improved. My lad Sammy’s been keeping him company. He’s never had many friends, my Sammy, but he just adores Frodo…he’ll be awfully sad to see him go. Your Frodo’s a very lucky hobbit, Mr. Baggins. He shouldn’t have survived such an arrow wound to his belly.”

“Oh, Frodo,” Bilbo said, rubbing warmth into his nephew’s hand. He didn’t care how close it had been because he already knew how it felt to lose Frodo. But now he was back, and nothing else mattered.

Frodo’s eyes fluttered open. He looked confused, but after a moment of first looking upon Gandalf and then Bilbo, a big smile brightened his pale face.

“Bilbo!” he cried. Bilbo hugged him tightly, sobbing into Frodo’s nightshirt, careful not to bump his wound.

“I’m so sorry,” Frodo said. “I wandered too far…”

“Not your fault,” Bilbo said. “Never. I’m only so glad you’re alive…”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Frodo said, choking back a sob. “Oh, Bilbo, you came. You really came!”

Bilbo pulled back, still holding Frodo’s shoulders. “How do you feel, Frodo? Are you in pain?”

“I’m much, much better,” Frodo said. “It hurt when it first happened, but -–“

“Confound those men!” Bilbo said, curling his hands into fists. “If I ever get a chance to have words with them…”

“Oh, no, Uncle, they were kind to me. It was truly an accident.”

Sammy burst in the room. “I just heard your folks came, Frodo! You’re not going home now, are you?”

“No,” the healer said. “You don’t need to interrupt like that. You know Frodo cannot travel just yet. Bilbo, there is an inn right near—“

“I know -- the Prancing Pony. We will be reserving rooms there.” Bilbo’s heart felt light, and he knew he would sleep well that night.

“Frodo should not travel for at least two weeks.”

***

“Please may I walk outside a bit today?” Frodo asked, turning his shining eyes toward the healer. Sammy was helping his father to stack towels in the corner of the room. “Bilbo’s going to buy things in the village to take back to the Shire, and --“

“That’s too much for you,” the healer said.

“Yes, I know,” Frodo said. “I was thinking more that perhaps Sammy might show me around the village.”

Sammy nodded eagerly. “I’d love to.”

“Oh, you could certainly manage that, I should think,” the healer said. “That is, if you don’t go too far.”

Frodo had walked around the cottage earlier that morning and had felt no pain. His stomach felt stiff and bruised, but the ripping, burning pain from the arrow’s intrusion was gone. The healer had felt his brow and there had been no fever.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Sammy said, clapping his hands. “I can’t wait to show you my favorite places! Oh, Frodo, I wish you lived in Bree.”

Frodo changed into his clothes, and he realized that he was not so steady on his feet yet. He refused to say anything about that to the healer. The weather was beautiful, and the last thing he wanted was to be directed back to bed. If during the walk he started to feel ill, he would simply tell Sammy.

“Ready?” Sammy said eagerly, and Frodo nodded.

“You come back immediately if you feel any pain,” the healer said. “Sammy, you hear that?”

“Yes, yes.”

Once outside, Frodo tilted his face to the sun, relishing the gentle warmth. Sammy looked down, smiling widely. “I hope you’re not offended, but I never realized how small you really are, Frodo. Are you truly as tall as you’re going to get?”

“I imagine so,” Frodo said, smiling back. “I’m not offended. And you? Are you as tall as you’re going to get?”

“Maybe,” Sammy said, rubbing his chin. “But my father’s pretty tall. I might still have some height left to go.”

They walked for quite a long time, and Sammy kept up a steady chatter.

“…and these are the stone houses of the Big Folk, as I know you hobbits like to call us…The gate to our village is closed at nightfall. That gatekeeper can be kind of rude and crotchety, but his bark’s worse than his bite. He made me cry when I was a small lad, but not anymore…and see where the inn is?…Right near that is the Greenway, the North Road, but nobody uses it much these days…”

Frodo was beginning to feel so weary that he was not sure how much longer he could walk without assistance. A wave of dizziness made him stagger on his feet, but Sammy did not seem to notice. Frodo was about to speak up and suggest that they go back to the healer’s cottage when Sammy whispered, “Oh, no, it’s Tommy Goatleaf.”

“Are you not friendly with him?” Frodo asked.

“You could say that,” Sammy groaned. “Just let’s walk by. Try not to look directly at him.”

“We should probably just go back, Sammy,” Frodo said, but Sammy did not hear him, so intent he was on ignoring Tommy and his friend who were sitting on the broad steps in front of the Prancing Pony. Frodo looked longingly to the inn’s front door. Perhaps he should go in and ask if he could rest in Bilbo’s room instead of trying to make it back to the healer’s cottage.

Tommy and his friend stood when Sammy and Frodo approached. Frodo recognized the predatory look on their faces, as Frodo had often faced bullying by Lotho and his friends in the Shire.

“It’s Sammy the frog!” Tommy called out. Frodo wondered how Sammy had come to gain that nickname, but he also knew bullies were often desperate to come up with anything to bait their victims.

“Hush your mouth!” Sammy said. Tommy and his friend surrounded Sammy. Frodo stepped back, starting to feel a little worried about the situation. Perhaps he should try to go inside the inn and call for help.

“I see you have a new friend,” Tommy said, suddenly noticing Frodo. “I guess a hobbit’s the only thing that’ll ever befriend you. Right, ratling?”

Frodo gazed into Tommy’s small mean eyes, and his cheeks heated. Ratling? Nobody had ever spoken to him in such a cruel tone.

He took a breath and spoke, despite feeling dizzy and frightened. “Sammy is as kind a friend as I could ask for.”

Tommy’s friend looked down at Frodo’s feet and laughed maliciously. “You are a little rat, aren’t ya? -- living in a hole like a rodent with those big, disgusting hairy feet. My dad says you little rats breed out of control and you ought to be caught in traps and fed to orcs.”

Sammy shoved him. “Don’t talk to Frodo like that! You don’t know anything!”

The boy shoved Sammy back, knocking him to the ground.

“No!” Frodo yelled. He was not sure what to do. He felt too sick to run or to come to Sammy’s assistance.

Both boys fell on top of Sammy, pummeling him with all their might, and Sammy fought back to the best of his abilities.

“Go, Frodo!” he managed to call out. “Run!”

“No!” Frodo scrambled to the fighting mass and managed to coil his arm around Tommy’s thick neck.

“Let go, you little rat, or you’ll get hurt!”

Vicious teeth bit into Frodo’s arm, forcing him to let go. Tommy flipped over and slammed his fist into Frodo’s cheek, knocking the hobbit on his back.

“Frodo!” Sammy cried. “Hey, Tommy, don’t hurt him! You can beat me but don’t hurt him; he’s not recovered—“

Tommy laughed and slapped Frodo’s face. Frodo lifted his arm to shield himself, his heart thudding. He didn’t know what else to do. He felt helpless and sick, with not even the strength to struggle now. His wound ached fiercely, and the sun, which had seemed so bright and cheerful just a few moments earlier now seemed dim and cold.

“Don’t!” Sammy yelled, pushing Tommy’s friend off of him in a fury. “He can’t fight you back!”

“Hey!” A man stomped out of the inn, glaring down at the fighting boys. “All of you -- get out of here or I’ll beat you within an inch of your lives!”

Tommy and his friend jumped to their feet, poised to flee.

“Let the frog and rat alone!” Tommy mocked. A heavy foot slammed into Frodo’s stomach before the boys ran off down the street. Frodo was paralyzed with the new agony that ripped through his belly, leaving him breathless. He curled into a ball, clutching his stomach, unable to do anything but gasp and whimper.

“Are you all right?” Sammy asked, his voice cracking. “Frodo! Speak to me!”

Frodo could not answer. A black mist gathered in front of his vision and he clenched his hands into fists, trying to stay conscious. He didn’t want Sammy to have to carry him.

“Frodo, I’m so sorry, so sorry, should never have brought you here! Oh, no!” Sammy sounded as though he were sobbing, and through hazy vision, Frodo saw that the boy was bleeding from his nose heavily.

Frodo wanted to tell him that he was all right, but he couldn’t speak. The pain crashed over every part of his body like a flooding river, consuming everything, and he knew all that came out of his mouth were pained gagging and whimpers. His stomach contracted, and he threw up.

“I’ll carry you,” Sammy said, and surprisingly strong arms lifted him.

“Please help us!” Sammy cried to the man who yelled at them. “Please, sir! Those boys waylaid us…my hobbit friend’s badly hurt. Will you take us to the healer? He’s my father.”

Frodo felt a new set of arms lift him before he fell into darkness.


TBC

Go on to next part

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

I wonder who these arms belong to. I love this story, I really love it.

Kith

[claudia603.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Kith! Glad you're enjoying! :-)

[baranduin.livejournal.com]

Oh, Claudia ... how could you torture poor Bilbo so much? Not that I'm saying stop ... as I can see by the further events of the story. Now who owns those arms? Ack ... this is a great story. Thanks for updating!

Re:

[claudia603.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Lora! Well, I have to say the arms don't hold as much significance as would seem...but never fear, Faramir will soon be there (in the next chapter)!

Good Chapter - but poor Frodo!

[floriatosca.livejournal.com]

Whose arms? I would guess Aragorn if it isn't Yelling Man. He has to rescue poor, adorable Frodo from nasty circumstances all the time. I love this series!

Re: Good Chapter - but poor Frodo!

[claudia603.livejournal.com]

Heh. Thanks, floriatosca! Hmmm....I hadn't thought about bringing Aragorn into this one, but you're right...Aragorn is often the hero in Bree, LOL.

[alchemie.livejournal.com]

Ahhhh. Poor weakened!Frodo (who's also being stubborn by going out when he *knows* he should be in bed recovering) being kicked in the stomach. (*I* actually felt pain from that kick.) And whose arms?????? ?????? ?????? Yikes!

Re:

[claudia603.livejournal.com]

Yikes indeed! Yes, well, you knew I couldn't have his recovery be that smooth, right? Thanks, Alchemilla!

[lilybaggins.livejournal.com]

Oh, who's got him? I know I said it before, but I'm so enjoying this story! Is it Boromir and Faramir come back to find out the hobbit is alive?

Re:

[claudia603.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Lily, for all your reviews on this story! (I feel loovvved... :-) ). Um...Boromir and Faramir are indeed coming in the next chapter, which I almost have finished.