Umm... Sorry?

Chapter One

“Now, Frodo, dearest, do be careful with that axe. I keep my tools very sharp, and you are swinging it close to something I hold near and dear.”

Frodo looked over his shoulder at the speaker from where he was straddling the felled tree. He’d been loping off the smaller limbs so it could be hauled easily through the woods. Ariel smiled at him brightly and batted her eyelashes.

“I have done this before you know”, he responded dryly. “And I am being quite careful. I’m rather attached to them myself.” Elenya, holding the pony, giggled and Mel looked up from the rocks she’d been examining and rolled her eyes.

“Just looking out for my ‘interests’,” Ariel added with a toothy, falsely innocent grin. Frodo shook his head with mock exasperation and continued loping.

“You know, if you’d been looking out for your interests better, you wouldn’t be limping right now,” he countered. “You don’t need to do this forestry work all by yourself. It’s dangerous. If you’d had someone else here when you hurt yourself, you wouldn’t have had to come limping back to the smial.”

Ariel pursed her lips, but her eyes were not on Frodo’s face when she replied. “But sweetheart! If I had not gotten hurt, I would have forgone the pleasure of seeing you working.” She sighed. “And it’s such a nice view too.”

Frodo did not dignify her comment with a response. He was almost done, and Elenya was hooking the pony’s harness to the log so that they would be able to drag it to the landing. It was a small patch of woods, but with Ariel’s careful management, it was more than able to supply Bag End West with fuelwood. She picked her trees most carefully; cutting only those that had injury or poor form. The forest that was emerging from her ministrations was tidy and breathtakingly majestic. She did a good job, Frodo had to admit, but she was jealous of the little plot as if it were her own private sanctuary, and rarely asked anyone to join her there. He hoped that the ‘invasion’ of her privacy, necessitated by her own carelessness, irked her enough to think twice about attempting to harvest such a big tree by herself again.

The log was hickory; a tough wood, and green as it was, very springy. The axe, though sharp, often glanced off the side and several times Frodo had nearly buried it into his thigh. He fluffed the curls out of his eyes and hacked at a stubborn branch that refused to cut. Maybe if he hit it a little harder.

Mel was watching him when the axe finally passed through the branch, but the extra force Frodo had put into the blow made the tool glance sharply off the bark. Its edge cut deeply into Frodo’s inner thigh and she shrieked. Frodo gasped and pulled it back but too late. The axe had made a neat cut, just paralleling the seam and not just through the fabric. Frodo winced as he felt the fiery bite of pain that indicated he had done just exactly what Ariel had just finished warning him against. There would be no living with her now.

“Frodo, you’re bleeding!” Elenya exclaimed running to him and reaching for the wound. Frodo grabbed his own thigh before she could and his heart sank as he felt the telltale weep of blood flowing from the wound. “Quick, apply pressure and elevate it!” She grabbed his leg, almost knocking him off his feet.

“It’s all right, just a scratch,” he replied protesting as he tried to push her hand aside. “This wood just wanted me to pay for its felling, that’s all.” He turned to look at Ariel with a look that dared her to say ‘I told you so’ and she shut her mouth, just opening to say that very thing, with a snap.

“Let’s get you back, now,” Mel said, taking his arm. “We’ll put you on Strider. Just lie back and take it easy. The log can stay where it is for the time being.” She took his arm and he lifted his leg over the log. It hurt,… a lot. Perhaps the wound was deeper than he had anticipated.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It might be best to have this cared for, before continuing. We don’t need more invalids in the smial.”

The ladies guided him carefully over the downed underbrush to where Strider, the pony, stood. Elenya let go of her death grip on his leg, much to Frodo’s relief, and unhooked the harness, draping it over her shoulder while Mel helped Frodo up onto the pony’s back. The minute he let go of the wound to climb up, Frodo’s leg began to really bleed and blood dripped off the bottom of his foot. Mel looked grim as she noted how pale he was beginning to get and motioned her sisters to hurry. Ariel stumbled up beside Strider and leaned heavily on her cane.

“You know, Frodo, you don’t look very well at all. How deep was that cut?” Elenya asked, her tone coloring with real concern as she reached up to reapply pressure to the wound. Frodo shook his head to assure her that he was going to be all right, but the motion made him instantly dizzy. He heard the blood rushing in his ears and found it suddenly impossible to remain upright. To the dismay of his ladies, he sagged and slipped off of Strider’s side, leaving a bright stain of blood on the pony’s white coat and falling into Ariel’s surprised arms. She dropped her cane and carried him to the ground. Frodo looked up at the concerned faces that stared down at him. They all looked terrified, but Ariel, closest to him also appeared flushed and excited. With a last effort, he scoffed at her in disgust.

“You love this, don’t you?” he asked, and her vigorous nod of ascension was the last thing he saw before darkness claimed him.

To Be Continued...

 Go to Chapter Two