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As Frodo lay in the quiet of Rivendell, the early morning light crept softly through the finely embroidered curtains, bathing the room in a gentle, golden glow. The warmth barely reached him, though, for he lay propped against a thick pile of pillows, his face pale and his eyes tired. He blinked as the light brushed over his closed lids, and a small smile tugged at his mouth as he saw who sat at his bedside.
Strider.
No—Aragorn.
The ranger had taken his usual place in the chair by the bed, leaning forward, hands clasped as though he'd fallen asleep mid-guard. Frodo watched him for a moment, taking in the quiet strength of the man before him. He was still in his traveling clothes, and his cloak lay folded neatly on the bedside table, though Frodo was sure it would be dusted with more than a few miles of wear.
“_ Good morning, Strider…”; Frodo’s voice was soft, weary, yet touched with affection.
Aragorn stirred at the sound and lifted his head, blinking away the remnants of sleep. A gentle smile broke across his face, and he leaned closer, his hand coming to rest atop Frodo’s.
“_ You’re awake.”; He murmured, voice as tender as it was relieved. “ How are you feeling?”
Frodo’s gaze shifted to the window. The pain had lessened somewhat since the healers had tended to him the night before, though the ache still echoed in his shoulder. Yet now, with Aragorn near, there was a calmness, a steady warmth that made the hurt seem distant.
“_ Tired.”; Frodo admitted, his fingers curling lightly beneath Aragorn’s. He paused. “ But…safe. Somehow.”
His lips quirked in a small smile, but his eyes, those sharp, sea-blue eyes, searched Aragorn’s face intently, as if seeking the answer to some question he couldn’t voice.
Aragorn gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over Frodo's knuckles.
“_ Then rest.”; He said, his voice a low murmur. His words were firm but laced with tenderness. “ You need only focus on healing now, Frodo. Leave the rest to us.”
A small frown touched Frodo's brow.
“_ I don’t know if I can.”; He said, his voice wavering. “ What if—”
Aragorn leaned in closer, shushing him with a quiet.
“_ Shhh, Frodo…”; He met the hobbit's worried gaze with such earnestness, such profound kindness that Frodo’s breath hitched. The ranger's own eyes, deep and wise, were warm with understanding. “ You have come farther than you ever thought possible. And yet, this journey is not yours to bear alone.”
It was then that Frodo noticed the lines of strain etched along Aragorn’s face, subtle but unmistakable. It tugged at him, this realization that Aragorn too carried his own share of burdens.
“_ Strider…you shouldn’t have to look after me like this…”; He murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “ You're needed elsewhere.”
Aragorn chuckled, a low, warm sound that seemed to melt away the air between them.
“_ I think I am exactly where I am needed. And as for the rest…”; He replied, his thumb still tracing small, comforting circles along Frodo's hand. He tilted his head with a wry smile. “ It will wait.”
The words settled over Frodo like a gentle rain, and for a moment, he felt his guard falter. The worry that clung to him like a shadow softened, and he found himself leaning a little further into the warmth that Aragorn’s presence offered.
“_ Thank you...Aragorn.”; He murmured, letting the name roll from his lips, a rare slip that carried a weight of its own. It was the name he reserved for these moments, moments where the barriers softened and fell away, leaving only honesty between them.
Aragorn’s eyes softened as he heard his true name on Frodo’s lips, a tenderness spreading across his face. Gently, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of Frodo’s hair back from his brow, the touch lingering, soft as a whisper.
“_ You’re welcome, Frodo.”; He replied, his voice so quiet it was barely a breath. For a moment, he hesitated, then allowed his hand to come to rest on Frodo’s shoulder, his palm warm and steady over the spot where the pain had taken hold so fiercely. “ And know that I am here, for as long as you need me.”
Frodo closed his eyes, allowing himself to surrender to that warmth, that promise, even if only for a few precious moments. He could feel Aragorn’s steady presence beside him, a gentle anchor against the storms that raged just beyond the walls of Rivendell.
“_ Then stay…”; Frodo whispered, so faint it was almost lost. “ Just a little longer.”
And, without hesitation, Aragorn answered.
“_ As long as you wish, Frodo. As long as you wish.”
A soft knock at the door pulled Frodo from the quiet calm he had found in Aragorn’s presence. He turned, and there stood Samwise Gamgee, balancing a tray laden with food. The gentle hobbit’s eyes shone with determination, though there was a soft, worried line etched across his brow.
“_ Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo-”; Sam said, stepping carefully into the room. “ But I’ve brought you some breakfast. Cook says you’ll be needing to eat something if you’re to keep your strength up.”
His tone was firm, yet caring, as he set the tray down on the table beside the bed. Frodo gave him a weak but grateful smile, glancing from the food to Sam’s earnest face.
“_ Thank you, Sam.”; He said softly, though there was a hesitation in his voice. He turned to the tray, taking in the fresh bread, the ripe fruit, the warm bowl of porridge with just a hint of cream and honey, all of which looked delicious but somehow didn’t stir his appetite. “ I appreciate it, really, but…I don’t think I’m very hungry.”
Sam’s gaze hardened slightly, the kindness in his eyes underpinned by his quiet resolve.
“_ Well, you don’t have to be hungry, sir, to eat something.”; He replied, hands on his hips. “ You’ve hardly touched a crumb in days. I’ve been noticing.”
Before Frodo could argue, Aragorn gave a knowing chuckle, his hand still resting on Frodo’s shoulder as he exchanged a glance with Sam.
“_ You won’t win this one, Frodo.”; Aragorn said, a slight smile softening his face. “ Sam has a point. If you are to recover, you’ll need to eat.”
Frodo cast them both a rueful look, his gaze shifting between his determined friend and Aragorn, who was leaning forward with that same unyielding warmth. He knew well enough that they weren’t going to let him out of this. With a reluctant sigh, he picked up a piece of bread, tearing off a small piece before popping it into his mouth.
“_ There now, that’s a start.”; Sam said, visibly relaxing as he watched his master eat. “ See? It’s not so bad, is it?”
Frodo chewed and swallowed, trying to hide the faint grimace that came more from exhaustion than taste.
“_ No, it’s not.”; He admitted quietly, though he could feel himself tiring. Still, the warmth of the bread and the sweetness of the fruit that followed gave him a small, much-needed lift.
Seeing his friend’s fatigue, Aragorn leaned over and took the bowl of porridge, holding it out with a gentle, but insistent look.
“_ Just a little more.”; He coaxed, his voice low, almost soothing. “ Enough to keep your strength, Frodo.”
Frodo met his gaze, the look in Aragorn’s eyes both tender and unyielding. He couldn’t quite find the strength to refuse him, especially with Sam standing nearby, watching like a mother hawk, ready to make sure every last bite was taken.
“_ All right, all right.”; Frodo muttered, feeling the tiniest of smiles pull at the corners of his lips as he took the bowl from Aragorn’s hands, though he didn’t miss the way Aragorn’s hand lingered as it passed to him.
“_ Good lad.”; Aragorn murmured approvingly, sitting back with an encouraging nod, a small glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “ That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
Sam folded his arms, beaming proudly as Frodo continued to eat.
“_ Now, that’s more like it, Mr. Frodo.”; He said, his voice both proud and relieved. “ There’ll be no getting better without proper meals, now, will there?”
Frodo rolled his eyes, but a small warmth flickered in his chest as he felt the love and care radiating from both his friends. He swallowed another mouthful, savoring the sweetness of the honey in the porridge and the gentle reminder of home it brought.
It wasn’t long before the bowl was nearly empty, a few lingering bites remaining.
He paused, casting them both a half-playful, half-weary glance.
“_ There.”; He murmured, feigning an exaggerated sigh of defeat. “ Are you both satisfied?”
Aragorn chuckled again, nodding with that same steady warmth.
“_ Very much so, Frodo.”; He replied, a slight teasing edge to his voice. “ We just might let you rest now, as you so deserve.”
Sam gave an approving nod, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
“_ Couldn’t have done better myself.”; He said proudly, gathering the tray and beaming down at Frodo with that ever-faithful loyalty and care that Frodo knew he could always count on. “ And don’t you worry, sir—I’ll be back come supper time. We’ll keep you fed, whether you like it or not.”
“_ Very well, Sam.”; Frodo replied, unable to help the fond smile that crossed his face. “ I suppose I’d best accept my fate.”
Aragorn and Sam exchanged a look, both smiling, and Frodo felt a small measure of his strength return.
As the morning wore on, a golden light began to fill the room, filtering in through the windows and casting soft, warm rays over Frodo’s bed. Aragorn noticed Frodo’s gaze drifting toward the light, and with a thoughtful expression, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he watched Frodo.
“_ You know…”; Aragorn began, his voice casual but carrying a hint of purpose. “ A little sunlight would do you some good, Frodo. The healers say it works wonders for recovery.”
Frodo looked at him, a glimmer of interest sparking in his tired eyes.
The thought of fresh air and sunlight stirred something restless in him—a longing to see more than the four walls of this room.
“_ I could walk-”; He said with a touch of eagerness, already pushing the blankets aside. “ If you’d give me a moment, I could—”
But before he could finish, both Aragorn and Sam stepped forward, their faces a mix of sternness and amusement.
“_ Now, Mr. Frodo.”; Sam interjected, shaking his head as he held up a hand to stop him. “ You’re in no shape for walking just yet. Not far, at any rate. Maybe later.”
He added, softening his tone as he looked at Frodo’s crestfallen expression.
“_ But for now, let’s keep it easy, shall we?”
Aragorn’s lips quirked in agreement as he gave Frodo a measured look.
“_ Sam’s right.”; He said gently, placing a hand on Frodo’s shoulder to ease him back against the pillows. “ You’re still regaining your strength. No need to overdo it.”
Frodo sighed, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he leaned back, embarrassed by his own impatience.
“_ Well…”; He muttered, trying to brush it off. “ I suppose I’m just tired of sitting around in bed.”
A knowing smile crossed Aragorn’s face, and he straightened with a quiet resolve.
“_ Then let’s make this a little more enjoyable, shall we?”
Before Frodo could question him, Aragorn moved to the balcony door.
He opened it, and a gentle breeze flowed in, bringing with it the scent of flowers and grass and the warmth of the sun beyond. Aragorn slipped out onto the balcony and disappeared for a moment before returning with a comfortable, padded lounging chair, carefully positioning it where the morning sun bathed the spot in a soft, golden light.
“_ There we are.”; Aragorn announced with a satisfied look, gesturing toward the balcony as he met Frodo’s gaze. “ A perfect place for some fresh air, and no need to leave your room.”
Frodo’s eyes widened, a faint flush blooming on his cheeks at Aragorn’s thoughtfulness. He felt suddenly bashful under Aragorn’s earnest gaze, and he brushed at an imaginary bit of dust on his blanket, hoping to hide the flush that was spreading steadily across his face.
“_ I...I didn’t expect you to go to so much trouble…”; He murmured, his voice a little softer, his eyes avoiding Aragorn’s.
But Aragorn just chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that seemed to fill the room with ease.
“_ Trouble?”; He repeated, shaking his head slightly as he walked back over to the bed. “ If this is trouble, then I’ve forgotten what true hardship feels like.”
Sam, who had watched the whole exchange with a faint smile of his own, gave Frodo an approving nod.
“_ Come on, Mr. Frodo.”; He said encouragingly, stepping closer to help. “ Let’s get you settled out there. A bit of sun on your face will do you wonders.”
Frodo allowed himself to be helped, leaning slightly on Sam as they made their way to the chair. Sam was careful, his arm steadying Frodo as he took each step with care, Aragorn following close behind, ready to catch him should he falter. As they reached the chair, Aragorn stepped forward, a hand gently guiding Frodo down onto the soft cushions.
Once seated, Frodo exhaled softly, the warmth of the chair’s padding cradling him as the sunlight fell across his face, gentle and warm. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the quiet of Rivendell settle around him, the sounds of the gardens drifting up from below. When he opened his eyes again, Aragorn was standing nearby, watching him with a contented smile.
“_ Comfortable?”; Aragorn asked, leaning against the doorframe as he regarded Frodo with that quiet, attentive gaze.
Frodo felt the blush creeping up his face again, feeling oddly flustered under Aragorn’s steady look.
“_ Yes.”; He replied softly, clearing his throat. “ More than comfortable, really.”
Aragorn’s smile softened as he folded his arms, his gaze lingering on Frodo’s face for a moment longer.
“_ Good. The healers will be pleased to know you’re getting some sun. Especially Elrond.”; He said, his tone half-teasing, though the warmth in his eyes was genuine.
Frodo gave him a small smile in return, his heart swelling with gratitude.
“_ Thank you, Aragorn.”; He murmured, the words carrying a quiet, heartfelt weight. “ For everything. I...don’t know what I would do without you.”
Aragorn’s expression softened, his gaze growing gentle.
“_ You don’t need to thank me, Frodo.”; He replied, his voice low, steady, filled with the kind of quiet loyalty that Frodo had come to trust so deeply. “ As I’ve said before, I am exactly where I need to be.”
Sam gave an approving nod as he took a seat nearby, clearly satisfied that Frodo was settled.
“_ See, Mr. Frodo? Even Mr. Strider knows what’s best for you.”; He gave Aragorn a small, respectful nod, and Frodo couldn’t help but chuckle at their united front.
Frodo looked between them, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.
“_ Well, it seems I haven’t a say in the matter with both of you watching over me so closely.”; Aragorn chuckled softly, leaning back with a satisfied look.
“_ It’s a rare occasion when you do, Frodo. Best you learn to accept it.”
Sam grinned, glancing warmly at his friend.
“_ Aye, Mr. Frodo, the sooner you make peace with that, the better. You’re in safe hands.”
Frodo’s laughter was gentle, like a whisper of relief in the warm air. For a moment, he allowed himself to let go, basking in the rare comfort of his friends’ presence. Looking at them both, he let out a light sigh.
“_ Then I suppose I’m in very good hands.”
Aragorn’s expression softened even further, a glint of affection in his eyes.
“_ The best hands in Middle-earth, if I may say so myself.”
Sam’s chuckle was soft and proud as he patted Frodo’s shoulder with a light touch.
“_ That you are, Mr. Frodo. And you’ve earned it.”
And there, surrounded by the unwavering care of his friends, Frodo felt the warmth of Rivendell settle in his heart, filling him with a peace he hadn’t known in too long.