Solemnity (Lotr, Aragorn)

[Prongs]

I'm back in my crushing on Aragorn era, apparently. Can you blame me?

This idea and the title came to me 3 days ago, and once I started writing, I couldn't stop. Formatting was a bitch! Don't pay close attention to when/where this takes place. Enjoy 2.7k words of sick Aragorn, a concerned friend, and me (I'm sick right now too) projecting my cold onto the former!

 

~

 

Frodo woke with a start from a light sleep, and it had nothing to do with the nightmares that had been plaguing him since he started carrying the Ring. He could vaguely identify the noise that had woken him as the snapping of twigs in the woods a short distance from camp, followed by another sound Frodo could not recognize. 
 

He remained motionless, listening for anything that would indicate danger. He blinked his eyes hard, still adjusting to the dim moonlight. When he didn't hear anything concerning, he sat up slowly, with his head on a swivel looking for the source of the noise.

To be safe, he reached a hand under his bedroll, feeling for Sting. He slid it out by the hilt only an inch to discover it was not glowing, and paused, listening for any more forest sounds.


After several moments, he slid the sword back into its place. He exhaled a silent sigh of relief, knowing that no immediate danger was upon them. Still, he felt for the chain on his neck to make sure it was still there, fingers grasping the Ring when they found it. He resisted the urge to put it on, slipping it instead back under his shirt so he could feel it against his skin.

Now too alert to go back to sleep, Frodo folded the top half of his blanket over itself and stood carefully, stretched, and observed the scene.


Sam was snoring softly on the bedroll nearest Frodo's. Merry's and Pippin's were close by, the two of them laying on their sides, facing one another as if they had been whispering back and forth before falling asleep.

 
Frodo examined the vicinity, looking for whoever it was in their party who was on the second watch. He located Gimli, Legolas, and Boromir, sleeping soundly not far from the hobbits. That left Strider, but where -

Ah, there.
 

A few feet into the woods, Frodo found the hunched form of the ranger sitting on a hollow log. He padded closer to the edge of the woods, intending to ask Strider if he had heard a noise too. As he approached, he noticed that the man seemed to be searching for something on his person. He was certain he wasn't visible to the ranger, not that he meant to be hidden from his view, but through the trees, Frodo could see the man's side profile.
 

He could now see that Aragorn was searching in his pocket for something with increased urgency. Frodo noticed the ranger's breath was becoming more shallow. After a few moments, he brandished a handkerchief, holding it open with both hands, just away from his face. His eyes squinted, then closed entirely, his forehead creasing as his brows knit together in desperation.

Oh.

Frodo knew what the older man was doing now. But as ready to sneeze as he was, his body wouldn't grant him relief just yet. He sat, poised, mouth hanging open in a grimace, waiting for the inevitable. His breath scissored helplessly in and out once, twice, and just as he was on the precipice of a sneeze, Aragorn exhaled a shaky breath through his mouth and made a soft noise of annoyance.

Aragorn lowered the handkerchief slightly, growing increasingly frustrated with his nose. Frodo watched him rub roughly at it for about a minute, and then the sensation that was plaguing the ranger either returned, or it had never left in the first place, because his breath caught dramatically, and he snapped forward, muffling two sneezes into the handkerchief.

"Eh'KSHCht! Eh...Eh'RCHshh!"

So that had been the noise he had heard, Frodo realized.

Aragorn blew his nose quietly so as not to wake his travel companions, then folded the fabric over itself to be ready for the next time he needed to use it, and tucked it away for the time being. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees, dark hair obscuring his face, but Frodo could hear him sniffle softly.

He felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Frodo didn't know how long Aragorn had been on his watch, but from this observation alone, Frodo thought the man should rather be resting.

Suddenly, a twig snapped underneath Frodo's foot - the very thing that had woken him - and he was discovered. Aragorn stood in one motion, hand already at his side, reaching for what Frodo presumed was a weapon. Frodo raised his hands in surrender just as Aragorn whipped his head in his direction.

"Frodo," the man breathed, dropping his hand, having tensed it in the threat of danger. "My apologies if I woke you."

"No, not at all. I just...the nightmares," Frodo lied.

Aragorn nodded in understanding.

"What did you see?"

Frodo cast his eyes to the side.
 

"I do not remember."
 

An awkward silence fell between them. Frodo's eyes found Aragorn's, searching for any sign of discomfort. Even in the light of the waning gibbous, the hobbit could see the shadows of exhaustion under his eyes and the pink tinge to his nostrils, and the ranger could see the poorly masked concern in the hobbit's features.

Frodo didn't know the man well, but he felt compelled to ask. Before he could stop himself, he felt the words tumble out of his mouth.

"Are you well, Strider?"

The skin around Aragorn's eyes crinkled as he smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile. The kind of smile one would expect to see from a parent had their child asked for another bedtime story when they had already had three. No, I'm sorry darling. You'll get more tomorrow.

Aragorn sighed, but the smile was still there. He was half amused and half touched at his genuine concern, and he found himself unwilling to lie to the hobbit.

"I am afraid I have come down with some ailment, but it is minor," he admitted. "Do not worry yourself."

"Allow me to take over the watch for you," Frodo offered, but Aragorn shook his head in the negative before Frodo had even finished speaking.

"No, I am alright to remain on the watch. You are carrying a far worse burden that I, Master Frodo."

At the mention of the Ring, Frodo instinctively reached for it. His fingers found the cool, smooth metal and he grabbed it, holding it in his fist.

Aragorn was right, the Ring had been starting to make Frodo feel not like himself. He felt oddly possessive at times, and quicker to become irritated. More so, he was exhausted, but it was a different kind of exhaustion. He felt like he had been carrying something incredibly heavy, despite it being so light an object. But he was able - and how, he did not know - to overcome the physical difficulties of carrying the Ring in pursuit of his undertaken quest. 

Frodo was pulled from his thoughts when Aragorn suppressed a small fit of coughing deep in his chest.

He dropped the chain in a way that he could still feel the Ring under his shirt, and thought of another way to help the man.

"At least let me make you some tea," he said, walking backward towards the smoking remnants of the fire, maintaining eye contact.
 

Aragorn took deep, measured breaths to calm his cough, not in a position to decline, but not eager to accept either.

"It is no trouble at all. I was going to make some for myself anyway," Frodo stated casually, now standing by the dying fire. He looked at the man for confirmation. It was clear he was not going to take no for an answer.
 

Still afraid to speak lest he start coughing again, Aragorn nodded his thanks, and began to make his way over to the fire.
 

Frodo started busying himself with making tea for the both of them. He located one of the leather waterskins shared among the entire party and poured some water into the iron kettle beside the fire. While he was doing this, Aragorn made a nest of kindling over the coals to reignite them. When he was finished, he wordlessly took the kettle from Frodo and hung it by its handle so that it was suspended over the glowing embers, balancing on a stick held up by two bundles of sticks that were bound together earlier.

The two sat across from one another, the fire flickering back to life between them. Neither spoke for some time, Frodo looking up at the moon, lost in thought, Aragorn watching the tiny flames dance around the kettle.

That is, until the latter began sniffling again. It was soft and barely noticeable at first, but they quickly increased in volume and frequency, for the man could not blow his nose properly now that they were in closer proximity to the group. He had grown accustomed to wiping it every so often, eventually resigning himself to holding the handkerchief under his nose to stop it from running.

Frodo drew his attention back to the ranger, who was preoccupied by the growing tickle in his nose. He had pinched it shut through the handkerchief to stave off the sneeze, but the feeling must have been deeper in his sinuses, for it had no effect on poor Aragorn. The light of the fire reflected in his eyes, now watery and squinting. Suddenly, he inhaled sharply and stifled a pair of sneezes into near-complete silence.

"Bless you," Frodo said sympathetically.

Aragorn cleared his throat twice before he could speak.

"Thandk you," Aragorn replied, low and husky.

The hobbit rose to add the tea leaves. He searched his pack and found a small opaque bottle and uncorked it with his teeth, then shook out the loose tea leaves into his hand. It was a blend of chamomile and peppermint; Bilbo gave it to him, and from his own experience, it was a nice blend to have while sick.

Frodo added the tea leaves to the kettle and noticed the ranger looked like he was going to sneeze again. Suppressing the last pair of sneezes had not rid him of the sensation, and now the steam from the pot was working against him. This time, his lips parted gently, he drew in a sharp gasp, and sneezed twice into the crook of his arm, curling in on himself as much as possible to muffle the sound.
 

"H'MPTch! H'TCHsh!"
 

"Bless you again," Frodo said kindly.
 

"Thandk you, againd," Aragorn sighed, his words rounded with congestion. He blew his nose conservatively, mindful of the others sleeping close by.
 

Now that the fire provided more light, Frodo could see the flush high on his cheeks, and that Aragorn was shivering, despite being so close to the flames.
 

"You're feverish," Frodo mumbled, more to himself than to Aragorn.


The man in question made no reply, glassy eyes blinking, dazed, and drew his cloak tighter around himself.


"Why don't you wake Legolas to finish your watch for you, when you are finished with your tea?"


"Legolas took the first watch. He is an elf, though he does not require sleep, he is resting."

 

"What about one of the others?" Frodo asked genuinely, but he was met with another sad smile from the ranger, who was not planning on ending his watch early despite his illness.

Of course, Frodo could empathize with not wanting to accept help. If any one of the party offered to carry the Ring for him, he knew he would refuse. He knew that when it came down to it, he alone was responsible for the fate of so many, he alone was to be held accountable for the success or failure of a task bigger than himself. He looked down at the ground and clutched at the Ring on its chain again, his fingers worrying over the rounded edges.

"Something else troubles you besides my being ill, Frodo. What is it?"


Frodo bit his tongue, not wanting to complain about his situation in front of a man who looked so miserable. But something in his travel companion's eyes told him that he could trust him.

"It is just...it is this Ring. It is...what it has done to Bilbo, and I want to do this right, but I do not know how. When this is all over, I want nothing to have changed, but everything will be different, and nothing will ever be the same again. I...-" the ring bearer trailed off, noticing Aragorn was struggling with another sneeze.

He waited patiently as Aragorn raised his handkerchief once more, drawing in a shaky breath.


"H'RSCHh! H'TSCH'ew!"

The two men froze. Those had been loud. Neither one of them spoke until they were certain no one had woken up. No one had - the crackling of the fire provided enough background noise to mask it.

"Excuse mbe," he mumbled, rubbing his nose with the handkerchief. Then, louder, "I was listendig. Go ond."

Frodo opened his mouth to speak and was about to do so, when Aragorn made a noise of frustration, holding up one finger to signal he was not done. His nostrils flared uncontrollably, and he clamped the handkerchief over his mouth and nose with the other hand. His breath hitched once, and he sneezed twice into the handkerchief, bending him almost double with the force.

"H'NKTSCH!...H'TCH'SHH!"

Aragorn sighed heavily through the handkerchief, straightening slowly. He risked a heartier noseblow to rid himself of the sneezy sensation for good, but he was still sniffling when he pulled away.

Frodo felt badly for the man. It seemed unfair that Strider, so stoic and enduring in Frodo's eyes, and who had saved his life twice already, was becoming undone over something as small and human as a head cold.

"Forgive me. I was not expecting those," Aragorn apologized, muffling a cough in his sleeve.


Frodo waved him off. He carefully retrieved the kettle from the fire and moved to pour the tea into two tin cups, placing the stainer over the top of each cup before he poured.
 

He handed Aragorn one cup and kept the other for himself. Aragorn thanked him for the tea and sipped it, careful not to let the steam irritate his nose again. He nodded for Frodo to continue.

"I just hope I am the right person for this task," Frodo finished, lamely. 


Aragorn set his cup down. He cleared his throat, looked Frodo directly in the eyes, as though searching for something he could say to relieve the ring bearer's deep-seated self doubt.

Finally, he replied, low, but with conviction, "You are the only person for this task, Master Frodo. Of that I am certain."

The corners of Frodo's mouth turned up slightly into a sad smile.

Together they sat in perfect solemnity around the fire, Frodo lost in thought about the Ring and life after, Aragorn's occasional coughs and sniffles punctuating the silence. Eventually, the peppermint eased some of his congestion and the chamomile helped his sore throat, and he accepted a refill when Frodo offered it.


They finished their tea and Frodo felt himself growing sleepy. He seemed resistant to go to bed and leave the sick man on his watch alone, but Strider assured him that he would wake Gimli at the end of his watch, and sooner if he began to feel worse.

Frodo said goodnight to the man and wished him well, then clambered back into his bedroll and covered himself with the blanket.

It took him a while to fall back to sleep, hyperaware of Strider's coughs and sneezes in the distance. He realized that he had been greatly restraining himself when Frodo was awake, for even from far away, Frodo could hear the desperation of each buildup and the power behind them. Eventually, though, Frodo fell asleep. In the morning, he would discover that Aragorn had finished out his watch and not told anyone of his illness, not as he hoped, but as he expected. He downplayed his symptoms when asked outright by Legolas if he was feeling alright.


The man seemed to be in better spirits, though, as was Frodo. As they set off again, Frodo remembered Strider's words and took them to heart.
 

'You are the only person for this task, Master Frodo. Of that I am certain.'

The ring bearer felt a renewed sense of determination to carry out his quest, and for that, he was grateful.

Edited February 17 by Prongs

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Aw!!! My poor baby!!! 🥹

(I am entirely certain that no one in-universe would ever even consider referring to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, as “baby”, but I DO NOT CARE!!!)

[Prongs]

18 hours ago, MyOwnPrivateSFC said:

Aw!!! My poor baby!!! 🥹

(I am entirely certain that no one in-universe would ever even consider referring to Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, as “baby”, but I DO NOT CARE!!!)

I know right!!! 🥺 I just want to give him a hug, but instead I gave him a cold. Poor baby indeed! 

[angora48]

Wonderful story! I love the dynamic of Frodo trying to help Aragorn while Aragorn also reassures Frodo about his burden of the Ring. And when Frodo goes back to bed and realizes how much Aragorn had been holding back for his sake? 🥺

On 2/17/2024 at 12:24 AM, Prongs said:

Eventually, though, Frodo fell asleep. In the morning, he would discover that Aragorn had finished out his watch and not told anyone of his illness, not as he hoped, but as he expected. He downplayed his symptoms when asked outright by Legolas if he was feeling alright.

Great line, and perfectly in character for both of them.

[Prongs]

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Edited February 19 by Prongs
replied twice accidentally

[Prongs]

On 2/18/2024 at 10:00 AM, angora48 said:

Wonderful story! I love the dynamic of Frodo trying to help Aragorn while Aragorn also reassures Frodo about his burden of the Ring. And when Frodo goes back to bed and realizes how much Aragorn had been holding back for his sake? 🥺

Great line, and perfectly in character for both of them.

I’m so glad you liked it, and that it came across as true to character! I would love to see more stories about him on here 😍

[JackHarknessTW]

Nice story!

[ellwren]

So lovely, and very true to character.

[Guessagain]

Aragorn is so true to form in this! The stoic watchful guardian always gives the warm fuzzies! Thank you for sharing!