Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien

Wax and Wane

It was the sixth time he had vomited in less than two hours. Everytime he thought the nauseated feeling was dissapating, he would relax just to be caught unawares as another bout of vomiting reared its head.

His stomach hurt so much, not from being upset, but from the sheer force of expelling contents that did not seem to be there anymore. Dry heaves and nothing else, but the contractions of his stomach muscles wrenched pain throughout his body, unable to come out of his fetal position.

Trying to drift off to sleep was impossible. The pain was that unbearable, and moving overmuch, caused it to flare, so the Ring-bearer found himself doubled over trying to be stoic. A sound must have escaped his lips as he soon found strong hands prying his stiff arms away that guarded his abdomen.

Another moan escaped his lips as he was forced to straighten out, but there was comfort as a familiar voice floated above him smoothing back sweat drenched curls,"Shh...Frodo. It will be all right. Let Mr. Strider help you," Sam pleaded as his face finally drifted into Frodo's sight.

Furrowing his brows, Frodo tried to recoil back into himself. Strong hands held his above his head as two smaller pairs held his legs. Feeling his shirt being lifted, the Ring-bearer began to thrash, but in his weakened state, and secured in place made it virtually impossible.

Aragorn peered into the sick hobbit's eyes,"I will not hurt you. Please, be still, Frodo," the King of Gondor asked as he beckoned someone out of Frodo's view to come closer. Aragorn placed his hands upon a warming stone, then those warmed hands were delicately palpating the Ring-bearer's spastic abdominal muscles, his rapid breathing becoming audible.

"Yes, that is the problem," the healer said as he removed his hands, picking up some green leaves from the tray that the attendant was holding.

"What is it, sir?" Sam asked worriedly. His grip upon his master tightening as he struggled to get back into position.

"His muscles have not had time to recover after being sick to the stomach. The pain is not letting Frodo relax enough for him to recuperate. I will give him an athelas leaf under the tongue. It will let him sleep," Aragorn said as he approached Frodo with care in his eyes.

"Frodo, trust me to open your mouth. This will help you relax and sleep," he explained and with little effort, the small mouth opened and the King was able to place the shredded leaf under the tongue to dissolve quickly. He then placed a finger at the throat pulse point. The fast thready beat soon slowed into a normal rhythm as Frodo's rapid breathing eased. Those bright wide blue orbs were soon lidden as the pain receded, all of the Ring-bearer's muscles becoming flaccid as exhaustion soon waned into sleep.

Only then did Sam release his grip, easily laying his master down, covering up the slumbering form with warmed quilts, then watching over him from his chair as a mother would a newborn babe.