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All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

video. voice. text.

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[ It terrifies him more than words can say that Frodo's words are true. He is not alright. Aragorn has never been sick a single day in his life. He is a healer - of illnesses he sees them only in others, for even in Caradhas amongst the cold and snow he had stood strong. They all had, but it was Aragorn's athelas and healing hands that had made sure the little ones did not suffer frostbite or been frozen in the snow.

Now he is weakened, but Frodo's worry and his hands strengthens him. Aragorn takes a deep breath and chases away the dizziness by sheer will, opening his eyes. His vision is not focused, but he fixes it upon Frodo's visage, and curls his bleeding hand by his side so the hobbit will not have to see more of his blood.

Frodo has never seen it. By the time Aragorn bleeds from his wounds, he has already taken an Elven boat to the Anduin. To Mordor. ]

I will be. [ He takes his clean hand and wraps it around Frodo's hand on his right shoulder, squeezing it. ] 'Tis but a small ailment.

[ He squeezes the hand again. ]

Please, do not worry so.

[ he steps back, but does not release his grip, his blue eyes searching his. ]

How is this a small ailment? You cannot continue like this, Aragorn. You need to be one who lies down yourself, now.
[ he purses swallows, reaching for some of the herbs. ]

Use some of these to heal yourself, please. For my sake, at least. I know you would not do it for yourself.

[ he gives him a knowing look. for the time they traveled you don't forget people and he didn't forget aragorn's unselfish nature, just as aragorn knew his own. ]

[ Frodo knows him well indeed, and he chuckles, wryness in that sound, before he nods. Then he takes a few leaves of the athelas and throws it into his mouth, chewing on them and letting the warmth spread from his mouth outwards, all the way to his fingers- that had felt not merely blue and strange, but also cold.

He ducks his head down and wipes at his face, rubbing away the spots of blood. ]

I have come to aid you, but it seems that I am the one who is helped instead. [ He lets out a breath. ]

Thank you, Frodo.

[ and he watches that, sees it start to help and it strengthens him in a way that no medicine could do for him now.

frodo simply nods, staring at him with those large, grave, tired blue eyes that are somehow steady despite all the shadows that are inside them. ]

I'll be going now, then. There's little time left to waste. If I were to stay..

[ for a minute there's nothing to be read on the hobbit's face before he simply offers him as usual, one of those tired smiles. ]

I'd hope you'd lie in here for a bit, but I know you won't.

No.

[ A quiet denial, but strong and firm nonetheless. He rocks back on his heels and stands up straight, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. ]

I wish you well on your journey, Frodo, and I do not want to see you return as a patient of mine.

[ It is, he thinks, a rather slim hope. ]

[ a quiet glance, before he nods his head. ]

Have a care for yourself instead, Aragorn, though I know you won't mind that either, but I'd still have your word.

[ he quietly squeezes the hand on his shoulder and lets go, heading towards the door. ]

[ Aragorn inclines his head, and pleads silently for his body to not make him a liar once more. ]

Aye. [ Softly. He watches as Frodo approaches the door before he follows him, closing it behind him. ]

I will wait for your safe return, Frodo.

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