"Good luck, we will be right here until you return," Gandalf said as he looked into the Ranger's eyes one last time. He then put one wrinkled hand upon the back of the sleeping head laying upon the man's shoulder like a babe before covering him with its hood. Frodo would have to be all right. The whole of middle earth depended on it.

Sam patted his master's limp hand before tucking it into the folds of his cloak. Merry and Pippin made sure the rest of their cousin's body was well protected from the elements. They did not want him to get any sicker than he already was.

Aragorn smiled at the loving attention, then his eyes roamed until they met with old world blue. Legolas. He would be trailing them from a distance to make sure they got into the village safely. "Are you ready?" he asked the Elf.

"Do not fear, they will not see me," Legolas said as he also said his goodbyes, one skinny hand upon Frodo's brow. The heat was intense, and could feel it even if he had not directly touched him. "He is burning up, how can he stand it?" the Elf asked in his native tongue.

"We must be going, my friend," Aragorn stated flatly so as not to alarm all ears upon their conversation. With that, the ranger gathered his charge more securely in his one arm, and started to walk toward the smoke billowing into the air that lay at least a two hours walk in front of them. He hoped Frodo had the strength to hang on that long.