Title: Fourteen Days

Chapter one: Before the Black Gate

Author: rabidsamfan

Summary: Fragments of the time between Mt. Doom and the Fields of Cormallen. Book-oriented.

Chapter summary: Aragorn and the others cannot wait for Gandalf's return with their hands folded.

Disclaimer: The characters are Tolkien's, but much gratitude is given to the movie-folks for putting images in my head and inciting me. ***Once Sam wakes up, I've used many many lines and bits of description from Tolkien, particularly in dialogue. And if you haven't already read the books and don't know which lines are his and which are not then shoo! Get thee hence to a library!

Medical disclaimer (since I've seen so many of them!) : I'm not even trying to be accurate, darlings, but if Viggo Mortensen wants to come and sprinkle some athelas water around me I'm sure I'll perk up nicely too.

And when Gandalf had clambered to the back of the Great Eagle and gone, Aragorn sent to Eomer and Imrahil to come to him for quick conference while the lesser Captains dealt with what was before their eyes. "I did not foresee a victory on the field," he confessed quickly, "and did not plan for prisoners or wounded, and yet we have them both, as well as confused beasts and the Easterlings who still stand and fight."

"The Rohirrim press the Easterlings," Eomer said, "and my swiftest riders I will send, to seek aid from the White City."

"The sons of Lebennin have long dealt with crafty sea-raiders, and know how to prevent trickery," Imrahil offered. "Turn them to the prisoners, and we will spare you every man we have with any skill at leechcraft."

"I cannot leave the fight so quickly," Aragorn protested.

"To leave one battle for another is no shame," Imrahil said, "I saw your skill in the Houses of Healing, and I for one would be glad to know that as many as possible of we who rode out in despair might return to live in hope." Eomer nodded agreement, his eyes bright.

And Aragorn smiled, for his heart wished most of all to turn to the healing of the many hurts around him. "I will do what I can," he said, "and the sons of Elrond with me, for they learned the art at their father's knee. But send for me if things go ill."

"Our great Enemy is destroyed, and his allies know the despair they fed us all these long days," Eomer declared, turning his horse back towards his men, "naught shall go ill."

"Ill enough if a wayward mumak steps on you as it flees!" Aragorn called after him, but laughter was in his voice, and he turned at once to the disposition of the wounded, setting the Dunedain as a guard at the edges of the hill to turn aside the creatures who wandered confused, bereft of direction from Sauron.

Even as they set the wounded in rows and began to bind the wounds his laughter left him, for the nearest water was rank, and full of dead orcs, and the herbs which the sons of Elrond had brought with them from the north had been sadly depleted after the battle of Pelennor Fields. He had a fire made to boil what water there was, and set the last crumbling leaf of athelas in it, near the center of his charges, and the scent of new-turned earth for a while overwhelmed the smell of other things.

Gimli came with Pippin in his arms, and Beregond of the Guard stumbled behind him, purblind from a heavy blow to the head. Aragon finished what he was doing and hurried over, for the hobbit was unconscious and covered in black blood.

"I found him under a troll!" Gimli's tears ran into his beard.

"Here, give him to me," Aragorn said, taking Pippin and easing him down onto a clear patch of ground. He felt along the hobbit's bones, grimacing when ribs moved wrongly under his touch. There was a bad bruise above Pippin's left ear as well, and Aragorn was still seeking out other injuries when he heard Beregond exclaim with dismay. "Bergil!"

Aragorn glanced up. A boy on a horse was picking his way carefully up the hill. His father swayed uncertainly, still too dazed to go and meet him. "Why have you come here? You are meant to be running errands for the Healers!"

"Please, sir," the child answered nervously. "I am running an errand for the Healers. Ioreth sent me with Damrod, to see if it truly was there and then his wounds overcame him and I had to go on alone, but the horse wouldn't go and I couldn't make it go, and then it would and here I am, and I would have come faster but there were things running away and I had to go around them."

"But why should she send you out of the city?" Beregond said, pale at the thought of all that might have befallen his young son.

"To bring it to Lord Aragorn, in case he needed it, except it was Damrod who was meant to come the rest of the way, and I was only to make sure that it was right, first, because Ioreth is too old to come and has too much to do."

"To bring what?" Aragorn asked, hearing his name, and sparing more of his attention for the boy because of it.

"This, my lord," Bergil said, beginning to tug at the knot which held the brown pillow he had tied behind the saddle. "The athelas." I would have brought more, but this was all that would fit."

"Athelas!" Aragorn's eyes lit with gladness. "Bring it, quickly, and tell me where you found it. There's more you say?"

Bergil was rather startled to find himself and his bundle parted from the horse by Legolas and Gimli, and more startled to be standing next to the king, looking down at Pippin's blood-covered face, but his time in the House of Healing had hardened him to worse sights and he remembered his voice and the question he'd been asked.

"We found it in a dell, near a birchwood by the Fields of Cormallen. I didn't bring a tithe of what we saw, and the dell turns and follows the water, and there was athelas growing all that way; much more than in the woods where Ioreth and I looked for it. Damrod's still there, waiting for me."

Aragorn was listening, but his hands were busy, and he plucked a leaf from the sack and crushed it under Pippin's nose. "Sleep, Pippin," he commanded. "Sleep and heal until I can come to you again." The scent of warm brown ale rose around them, and Pippin smiled a little, relaxing into a healing slumber. Aragorn leaned back on his heels and smiled at the boy who had come so far. "I've much to do, and thanks to you, the herb I know best to do it with. Sit here and wait by Pippin and your father until I can spare a rider to take you back to Damrod."

"And it please you, sir, I'd rather stand," Bergil said, and blushed, shifting his feet uncomfortably. "I didn't dare get off the horse, because I couldn't get back on again, and that was yesterday, and I can wait a long time before I have to ride again."

Gimli gave a great shout of laughter, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "You and me both, lad! Horses are meant for the tall! But take heart. I've still some liniment in my bag that will ease your pains, gifted me by the White Maiden of Rohan when first we came to Edoras."

At that Legolas laughed as well, and Aragorn too, even as he turned to the next wounded man. With athelas in hand, and even a little fresh water to brew it in, his strength would go much farther, and he hoarded it less, sending away pain and calling sleep, while Elladan and Elrohir went ahead, setting bones and washing and binding wounds. And yet as he worked he was careful not to press himself too hard – and his eyes went often up and to the southwest, but Mt. Doom was throwing out great bouts of flame and smoke, and he could not make out any details.

More than an hour had passed before Legolas straightened from his labors and tensed as his gaze went toward the distant flame of the mountain. "They're coming," he said, "Aragorn!"

"Did they find them?" Aragorn asked, "Can you tell?"

"Gandalf rides on Gwaihir; but he rides alone, and Gwaihir's talons are empty. Behind him comes Meneldor," Legolas shielded his eyes, "His foot is curled around a burden, and he flies carefully. And there is Landroval, laden like his brother."

"Didn't Lord Faramir say that Gollum went with Frodo and Sam?" Gimli asked softly, coming to stand by Aragorn. "Which two has Gandalf found of the three, I wonder?"

"Are they moving?" Aragorn called to Legolas. "Can you tell?"

"Nay," Legolas shook his head. "They are hidden from my sight. But if they were well they would ride astride like Gandalf, and not be carried."

"Make a space at the top of the hill!" Aragorn commanded. "Prepare two places there! Gimli, Legolas, call me when I must come!" Ten minutes at least he guessed he had before the Eagles would arrive, and there was still much to do. But only three more men did he send to slumber before Legolas summoned him. Checking to be sure that the bag of athelas was still secure at his belt before he ran, Aragon made his way full hastily to the crest of the battle hill.

He got there as the first of the Eagles swooped down, to hover over Legolas and uncurl his talon, gently dropping a small bloody figure into the elf's waiting arms. Aragorn turned and braced as Legolas knelt to the waiting pallets, and raised his arms as the second wanderer was delivered to him.

Light as a child, filthy as a sweep, and stinking; the orc-garb felt strange under Aragorn's hand, but even under the dirt he recognized the Ringbearer. "Frodo!" he called, as he too knelt, nearer to weeping than he had been in hours. Frodo was still, and his lips were cracked and blue under black soot.

"Sam," Legolas cried, shaking his own burden gently. "Breathe, Sam!"

"Are they dead?" someone asked among the watchers who had gathered palefaced near the hilltop.

"Dead hobbits don't bleed," Gimli said gruffly, taking Sam from Legolas and laying him on the ground with his head tilted back. "Like this, Aragorn. You've got to get the bad air out and good air in!" He took a deep breath and puffed it straight into Sam's mouth, pinching the hobbit's nose shut. Then he pressed gently down on Sam's chest to push out the air before he gave him another breath.

Aragorn quickly followed Gimli's example, and it seemed to him that Frodo warmed a little with each breath, but it was only the slow blood brightening on the hobbit's hand that told him his work was doing any good.

"I'll breathe for Frodo," Legolas said, shifting position to come alongside Aragorn. "You call them back, Elessar. Yours is a voice they might hear."

So Aragorn knelt between the pallets and broke two leaves of athelas, wondering suddenly how they could smell the good sweet scent of it with Gimli and Legolas pinching their noses shut.

"Chew it, and then breathe for them," Gandalf suggested, kneeling opposite Aragorn. "And I will call."

First a breath for Frodo, fresh cut grass and garden flowers, and then another leaf for Sam: strawberries, fried potatoes and beer, so warm and homely that Aragorn had to swallow before he could blow the scent into the waiting hobbit. Sam began to cough, and Gimli beamed, turning him on his side so that he wouldn't choke on the black spittle that came out of him.

Aragorn turned again, but Frodo was breathing on his own, however shallowly, and the blue was fading from his face.

"Call them," Gandalf said. "But do not tell them to rest yet. Frodo would seek a deeper sleep than he would waken from, and to lose him is to lose Sam. They have gone deep into the Shadow, and though it is fled, the stain is upon them still." He gathered his staff and rose, as Aragorn moved forward to put his hands on the hobbit's foreheads. "There are beasts Sauron had bespelled wandering in Mordor - not least of them the mounts of the Black Riders - that the Eagles and I must deal with ere they breed, but I will return as soon as I can."

Aragorn nodded, bending his head to his charges before Gandalf even called for Shadowfax. Long hours passed, and still each moment was a battle. He could not fully concentrate on either Sam or Frodo, for when he tried the other would slip softly into deeper darkness.

Vaguely he was aware of Gimli and Legolas, stripping off Frodo's orc leathers, and Sam's tattered clothing, washing away blood and binding wounds. Frodo's hand, where a finger had been torn out by the root, told a story that Aragorn dare not dwell on, but he allowed a corner of himself to wonder about the way their hands and knees bespoke of distances crawled, and where Frodo got the half healed scar on his neck, or Sam the deep gash on his head, and how had Sam managed to tear the backs of his hands and not only the palms? How close had the fire come to them, to leave them both with skin red and taut, and the scent of burning in their hair? They both were thinner than ever he had thought hobbits could be – almost Gollum thin - and that too was a thought he set aside where it could not be seen.

There was no strength left in either of them, that was the trouble, and no food or water either. Aragorn roused himself from his trance enough to tell Legolas that, but when Gimli tried to pour a little water into Sam it came back up again, black with filth and choking. They tried more carefully with Frodo, wetting a cloth and pressing it to his lips, and so getting a little in at a time. Sam was drier, or had swallowed more dirt, and nothing would stay in him until Elrohir came with a flask of the miruvor of Imladris and gave him a mouthful drop by drop.

Elrohir turned his attention then to Frodo, and confirmed Aragorn's words to Legolas and Gimli. "The Ringbearer, especially, has the look of one who has gone far on lembas alone, but its virtue does not last for much more than a day, and I would think that Samwise has had none to eat for at least three. And then there is the matter of water." He took a fold of Frodo's skin, and raised it; it stayed up, slumping back too slowly. "If you would have my advice, I would say that you must get water into them before you can try to give them food."

"How much miruvor is there?" Gimli asked.

"Seven mouthfuls, no more." Elrohir said. "But were there barrels near at hand they would not solve the problem. Its virtue is not the virtue of food. It gives strength of limb and heart for a time but is barely more than water for the healing of wounds." He dripped a bit more into Frodo's mouth, and sat back. "Still, I think it will give you time to get better things into them."

"Water and battle bread are all we have," Legolas said. "And not much of either, for I am loth to use the waters of the swamp, even to wash the stink of Mordor from them."

"Aye," Gimli agreed. "Better water ten days in the cask than waters befouled by orcs and trolls," he said, settling again to the task of getting the water he had into Samwise.

Of all these words, Aragorn heard but little. He was seeing with an inner eye, and it seemed to him that Sam had found some strength, and so had set himself to protect Frodo against all comers, as he had on Weathertop long ago. He was slow to recognize Elessar as Strider, but the memory of that earlier time gave the King a way to reach the gardener's heart. "I brought him healing before, Sam. And I will again if you will let me," Aragorn promised, and Sam in his weariness and fear for Frodo consented, lingering nearby and watchful for treachery.

In Frodo Aragorn found the heat of the cordial still bright, and for the first time a glimmering of more in Frodo's mind than the longing for rest. Aragorn crushed more athelas and tried to find the key to keeping Frodo alive. Aragorn's heart warned him against assuring Frodo that his tasks were complete. Even in sleep the Ringbearer sought a deeper rest. Why should he stay? "Sam's here too." Aragorn said at last. "You must stay, if he's to see the Shire again." And that woke a homesickness that Aragorn could taste and see, so strong that he could build a new hope where all hope had fled. "Sleep and heal, and you shall see the Shire again," he promised. And Frodo sighed, and slept, and the pain left him for a little.

And still Sam would not rest, the cordial having given him strength to fight. He resisted Aragorn's blandishments and commands, holding stubbornly to his pain and his determination to guard Frodo until Legolas thought to put Frodo's unhurt hand in Sam's. Then did Sam sleep too, and Aragorn at last could relax and open his eyes to find the day long fled and torches burning around them.

Gandalf was in conference with Gimli, but he turned to smile at Aragorn. "Well done, Elessar. I will keep watch on them while you eat and rest. Legolas and Gimli know all that I have discovered." He settled by the two sleeping hobbits, resting a hand on each small head, and closed his eyes, and Aragorn knew that the Wizard was seeing more and more clearly than he could himself.

"Well?" Gimli asked. "How are they?"

"We may have to bury them yet," Aragorn confessed. "They are very tired, and it will be long before I am sure of them. But for now they are sleeping." He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his spine, easing the stiffness of too many hours in one position. "Thank you, Gimli, for your lore – I did not know that you were a healer."

"If you delve deep in the earth you needs must learn to deal with bad air," Gimli said blushing, "but it is not often a skill you need upon a battlefield. Your elvish arts serve better."

"I marvel that they survived to come to us with that poison in them" Aragorn admitted.

"Time did not pass for them, from the time they were found until they were delivered to us," Legolas said. "Gandalf said the Eagles held it at bay." He tucked the elven cloak he had taken from his shoulders more carefully over the sleeping hobbits.

"Ah," said Aragorn, and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his body sway with weariness.

"Come, Aragorn," Legolas said, rising and offering a hand. "Food and rest, Gandalf said, and while you eat much to think on."

"Yes," Gimli agreed, coming to support the Man when he stumbled on feet gone numb. "And a stop to see how Pippin fares, if you don't mind. Our poor Hobbits have none of them come through this safely."

Pippin was awake, and trying not to look too miserable for the sake of Bergil, who lay beside him on his stomach, sleepily rehearsing the lines of a Gondorrian song Pippin had asked to learn. The boy struggled upright when he realized Aragorn had come, yielding his place with a hasty bow.

"Strider?" Pippin's brow was creased with worry. "They said you were taking care of Frodo and Sam. Are they badly hurt?"

"Gandalf is with them while I rest," Aragorn told Pippin. "They are sleeping, as you should be."

"I hurt too much to sleep," Pippin fretted. "I think I must've broken something when the troll fell on me. Were there really eagles?"

"Yes, there were Eagles," Aragorn reached into the bag at his waist and discovered that he'd gone through a healthy portion of the athelas already. But there was still a good bit left, and he cracked a leaf under Pippin's nose, where it filled the night with the soft scent of pipeweed. "Sleep a little more, Pippin; there will be time to hear all the stories later."

"But I'm thirsty," Pippin protested around a yawn, closing his eyes and falling under the spell.

"As are many," Aragorn realized, looking around with a Captain's eye. It fell on Bergil, and an idea came to him. "Legolas, can you and Arod make a ride tonight?"

"Of course," said Legolas, "to Minas Tirith?"

"No; to find Damrod and return Bergil to him, but also to see if there is a place suitable nearer the dell of athelas for us to set up a camp. We cannot keep the wounded or the prisoners in these stricken lands, and if it is not too far, we shall have the prisoners carry the wounded, ours and theirs, to a safer place, come dawn; but I need a camp where I can send out men at need if Rohan or Dol Amroth require, and still have water and wood."