Deprived of Hope

by Henrika

Chapter Six

Chapter 6

“Aragorn, we really ought to start moving,” Legolas said in a serious, hushed voice. He had pulled Aragorn aside to have a private talk with the Man about the future of the Fellowship. Five days had passed since Gandalf’s assault, and the company was still at the same spot.

Aragorn sighed. What could he say? Gandalf’s condition was improving day by day, but the wizard was still far too weak to travel. They could not leave yet.

“I know,” he sighed. “We really ought to. But Gandalf can’t travel yet. We have to wait for him to recover.”

Legolas’ blue, keen Elven eyes narrowed. “We do not know how much time we have,” he said. “Every day more of Sauron’s troops are marching into the Black Land. He will soon be strong enough to launch his assault upon this world. And if Gandalf was right, Saruman is breeding another army at Isengard. The more time we lose, the stronger Sauron grows. You must realize this, Aragorn.”

Aragorn sighed in irritation. Of course he knew about their situation. How could he not know? He had eyes and ears of his own, plus a brain to think with. Besides, Legolas had been giving him subtle hints every day.

“I know this,” he replied in a low voice. “But *you* must realize that Gandalf is not yet fit for travelling. We will leave as soon as he is.”

“It might already be too late then,” Legolas countered. “I have spoken to Mithrandir. He… he thinks that we should leave without him, and he is right.”

Fury welled up inside Aragorn when he heard the Elf uttering those words. How could he?!

“Are you mad?!” the Man growled, no longer able to keep his voice down. Several heads were immediately raised at the sound of his voice, but Aragorn didn’t care. “We cannot leave without Gandalf! I would never do that! Never! What were you thinking?”

Legolas eyes became sad, and it was obvious that the thought of leaving Gandalf behind grieved him. Still, he chose to stick to his opinion. “Aragorn, please, listen,” he said. “This quest concerns all of Middle-earth. If we fail this…”

“No one is left behind, Legolas,” Aragorn interrupted him. “No one. I will not allow it. I will not take this discussion further.”

With that he left the Elf and walked the short distance back to their camp by the cave. Still upset, he went to see Gandalf, who was still seated by the fire, resting on his bedroll with a quilt draped over him. The wizard struggled into a sitting position when he heard the Man approaching and then noticed the turmoil going on inside his friend.

Gandalf winced from the pain caused by the hasty movement. He could wear regular clothes now, and sitting up was no longer as hard as it had been a few days ago, although his rectum still ached, especially if he sat up too quickly. The bruises on his face and body had turned from blue and purplish into green and yellow.

“Aragorn?” the wizard asked. “What is wrong?”

“I had an argument with Legolas. He… He thinks we should leave now, and since you are not fit to travel, he suggests we leave without you. I became angry with him.”

“I really hate to say this, Aragorn, but he is right. I spoke with him about this. Don’t blame Legolas. I made the suggestion. You cannot delay because of me.”

“Gandalf, we have been through this…”

“I mean it, Aragorn. Even if you wait a few more days, I will still not be strong enough to keep up with the rest of you, and I will slow you down. Believe me, Aragorn, I do not wish to be left behind, but it seems as if we don’t have a choice.”

Aragorn kept shaking his head. “There is a way. There must be.”

“You cannot carry me into Mordor, Aragorn. I hope you have realized that.”

“No, I know that. I cannot carry you alone. But with the help of someone, I might.”

Gandalf frowned. “What?”

Aragorn suddenly got a splendid – or at least it seemed so at the moment – idea. None of them was strong enough to carry Gandalf all the way, but what if they could create a litter for the wizard? He admitted that they would not be able to walk as fast with it as without it, but it was the best solution to the problem so far. He could carry it with Boromir or Legolas, or perhaps even Gimli. The Dwarf was short in stature, but his strength was as great as that of any Man. Aragorn just hoped that Gandalf would agree.

“Gandalf, listen… What would you say about a litter?”

Gandalf blinked. “A litter?”

“Yes, for you. That way we could carry you without being exhausted, and you could just lie down and rest. What do you say?”

Gandalf opened his mouth to object but hesitated and closed it again. The thought of being carried on a litter did not appeal to him in the least, but deep down inside, he had to confess that Aragorn’s proposal was clever. Two people would not exhaust themselves by carrying him the way one person would, and even with a litter, the Fellowship would be able to move relatively quickly.

“Well…” he said… “I suppose…”

Aragorn was relieved to hear that Gandalf did not immediately reject his proposal. “It is the best we can do,” he said. “You know this. The only thing that could be harmed is your pride, old friend.”

Gandalf glared at him, but then his gaze softened, and he even managed to smile. Aragorn was right. He saw no flaws in the proposal except the indignity of being carried.

“Who would carry it with you?” he asked Aragorn. “Have you talked to the others?”

“Not yet, but that is not a problem, believe me. We are all doing our utmost to help you. I am sure we’ll have a volunteer or two.”

“I really hate to cause such trouble…” Gandalf sighed, looking sad again.

“It is no trouble, Gandalf,” Aragorn replied. “And it is only temporary. When you are strong enough to walk on your own, we won’t have to carry you.”

“There is one more problem – we don’t have a litter.”

Aragorn laughed for the first time that day. “Oh, don’t worry! Soon we will!”

*~*~*

When Aragorn presented his idea about the litter to the rest of the company, everybody agreed with him and said it was a great idea – even Legolas, although the Elf was perhaps a bit less enthusiastic than the others.

Since everybody, including Gandalf himself, wanted to waste no more time and to get moving as soon as possible, Aragorn decided to start building the litter. It would have to be a simple, rudimentary construction, as they did not have any equipment to construct anything too intricate.

Two long poles, chopped out of birch tree, would have to serve as a framework, and since they had not brought any extra fabric with them, one of them would have to sacrifice his bedroll to use as a bottom. Aragorn was afraid of starting an argument by asking for a volunteer, so quietly he decided to use his own. Gandalf would surely object to his sacrifice, but he would not tell the wizard until they had left this place and needed to pitch camp again. Poor Gandalf already felt guilty for causing the Fellowship such trouble, and he did not need to know that Aragorn would have to sleep uncomfortably because of him.

The Hobbits – minus Sam, who was helping Boromir with the cooking – were gathering around the Man as he worked, watching with eager and attentive eyes. Aragorn had told them about his idea to make a litter for Gandalf, and they were very curious to see if it was going to work. After a while, Frodo was beginning to feel a bit sheepish. Aragorn was working very hard to tie the cloth to the poles, and he wanted to ask the Ranger if there was anything he could do to help. The Man indeed seemed to have a problem with the strips, as his hands were quite large and his fingers not all that nimble.

Frodo finally stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Strider…?”

Aragorn looked up, mildly annoyed. He did not like having the Hobbits hanging around him now, when he was doing something that demanded absolute concentration. If he did a poor job, the bottom might fall out once Gandalf settled onto it, and he couldn’t let that happen.

“I was just wondering if I could help…” Frodo said and shrank away from the Man’s annoyed countenance. Perhaps it had been a mistake asking? Aragorn might not want any help, especially from a Hobbit. “I just thought… my hands are smaller than yours. Perhaps I… could make better knots.”

To Frodo’s relief, Aragorn actually smiled now. “Really, Frodo? Do you know how to make knots, then? This must be done properly, so that it will hold Gandalf’s weight.”

“Oh, yes,” Frodo said proudly. “Bilbo taught me already when I was a boy. I am sure I could be of use.”

Aragorn backed away, letting Frodo take his place by the construction. “Be my guest, Mr. Baggins,” he said, amused. “If you can work faster than I can, I will be grateful to you.”

Frodo settled where Aragorn had knelt before and started working. His hands were nimble, and although many decades had passed since Bilbo’s lessons, he clearly remembered how to make proper knots. The bedroll needed to be tied to the poles in six different places, and Aragorn had finished two of them. It had taken him over an hour, but when another hour had passed, Frodo had just finished the final knots. The litter, such as it was, was finished.

Aragorn couldn’t help marvelling at the Hobbit’s nimble fingers. “Good work, Frodo! You worked more than twice as fast as I. I am impressed,” he said appreciatively, and Frodo gave him a sunny smile in return. He knew that Aragorn did not give compliments for nothing, and having just received one made him feel proud.

“Do you think Gandalf will like it?” he asked.

The Man chuckled. “He will have no choice. I am sure that he would prefer walking on his own, but since he cannot do that yet, this is what we have to do.”

Frodo had had some brief talks with Gandalf in the past few days, and he was sure that his friend’s condition was improving. His bruises were fading, and he could even walk short stretches when aided by someone. His limp was still very prominent, though, and it was clear that walking – and even sitting – made him hurt. No one had explicitly told Frodo that Gandalf had been raped, but that was not required for the Hobbit to understand. Frodo shuddered at the mere thought. Gandalf had to feel horrible, both physically and spiritually. He had not asked the wizard about the assault, and he doubted that he ever would.

Aragorn surveyed the rather primitive litter with a slightly critical look. It would do. Gandalf didn’t weigh all that much, and Frodo had made proper knots, or at least it seemed so.

The Man told everyone to start packing up their camp and went inside the cave the show the construction to Gandalf. He was the one who would ride on it, after all, so the wizard needed to pass judgment on it.

Gandalf said nothing when Aragorn approached him, carrying the litter. He really wasn’t looking forward to being carried, but he realized that there was no way he could back out now.

“What do you think, Gandalf?” the Ranger inquired, placing the litter on the stone floor next to the wizard, giving Gandalf an opportunity to regard and touch it.

“It looks… capable,” Gandalf admitted hesitantly, trying to conceal his true feelings from Aragorn. “But are you sure that it won’t slow us down too much?”

Aragorn shook his head. “No, Gandalf. Don’t worry about it.”

“Who will help you carrying me?”

“Boromir will do it to begin with. If he needs to rest, Legolas or Gimli will take over.” Aragorn smiled amusedly. “I am sure that the Hobbits would volunteer as well, if they were not so small.”

“And if you need to rest, Aragorn? You are only human, after all.”

“Then I will rest,” Aragorn said reassuringly, desperately wanting to do something about Gandalf’s melancholy mood. “I said you need not worry. We can handle this. Alright?”

Gandalf rubbed his temples as to clear his thoughts, and then he nodded. “Yes, of course. Forgive me, please. You all try to help me, and all I do is whine. I am not yet myself.”

“How are you feeling? You are not falling ill, I hope?”

Aragorn placed his hand over Gandalf’s forehead to check if he had a fever. His temperature seemed normal, though, so the wizard was probably just tired. So far his wounds had not drawn any infection, and Aragorn was hopeful, although he knew that there was no way to be sure until they had healed completely.

Packing up the camp went quickly. They only had their bedding and some cooking equipment, and they were all eager to get moving again. Although the cave had been an acceptable camping place, none of them actually wished to move in there.

When Aragorn had finished packing his belongings – which were few, especially now when he no longer had his bedroll – he returned to Gandalf, carrying the litter under his arm. The wizard was still sitting on a blanket near the place of their fire. He hated not being able to help the others with anything. He felt useless, which he certainly was in this state.

“Alright, old friend,” Aragorn said, attempting to get a cheerful tone into his voice. “Now it is time for you to get onto this contraption.”

Gandalf nodded with a sigh and began to rise from his seat on the ground. The pain caused by the movement made his face distort into a grimace. It was particularly strong in his nether regions and in his chest. Aragorn was immediately there, offering him a hand, and he gratefully took it and let himself be eased onto the litter by the Man’s strong arms.

The wizard was breathing heavily, and a coat of sweat now covered his face. Aragorn felt awfully sorry for him, but he chose not to comment on his friend’s condition this time. Gandalf was aware of it anyway, and words of sympathy and consolation would not make him feel better.

Boromir joined them, and together with Aragorn he lifted the litter on which Gandalf lay. The wizard wasn’t heavy at all. Aragorn also suspected that Gandalf had lost a great deal of weight in the past week, as he had almost no appetite left.

The Fellowship fell into a line, which looked slightly different than usual. Legolas with his keen, Elven eyes led the way, and shortly after him Aragorn and Boromir followed, carrying Gandalf. After them walked the Hobbits with Gimli as the rear guard.

Aragorn calculated that there were still about four hours left until sunset. They had best use those hours well.

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