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Aragorn kneels in front of Frodo, holding the heel of one of the little person’s feet in the palm of his hand and inspecting the toes. Gimli and Legolas glance curiously over from their own doings (Legolas carves a wood totem that looks like it might be a bird someday if the mood struck it; Gimli is watching with faint amusement) to try and understand quite what is going on without having to ask. Sam stands beside Aragorn, nervously, and Boromir stands behind Frodo looking down, “I don’t know about this toe, Frodo.”
“We just have to get it warm, is all.” Sam says, tugging on his own fingers. “Hobbits sometimes get purple toes in winter, they always just need to warm by fire.”
Aragorn hums and Boromir bends down further to get a closer look. “This little one is quite past purple, though.” He says.
And really, it is quite past purple; just about black where the others are a berry color, not as foreboding. Frodo doesn’t seem frightened about the fate of his smallest toe. In fact, he just looks exasperated at the thing having the audacity to become frostbitten to such a degree. “Will we have to take the thing off then?” Everyone present in the cavern turns to gape at him, and then the startled silence is overtaken by the sounds of Gandalf, Merry, and Pippin returning with four mountain hares over their shoulders (Merry and Pippin had been quite thrilled to display their very non-noblemanly skill of trapping).
“What’s wrong with Frodo’s foot?” Pip asks brightly.
“We’re cutting my toe off.” Frodo returns.
Aragorn snaps to counteract that, before the returned hobbits run away with the idea. “No, we are not!” He looks between Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam frowning and still holding Frodo’s foot gently. “We have not decided that.”
Legolas’ ears twitch, curiously, and their tail pats against the stone floor. “Haven’t we though? What else can we do about it, but cut it off.” They lean and peer closer. “Looks fairly dead to me.”
Pippin and Merry also come over with great curiosity, and Pip seems terribly ecstatic to cut off his cousin’s toe. “What do we do with it after? We can’t just throw it off into the mountains, can we?” Gandalf hums and also comes over to look.
“Perhaps I can banish it from this realm.” The old wizard says.
Pippin snaps his fingers excitedly and grins up at him, “That just might be it!” Gandalf nods sagely and puffs on his pipe casually, while Merry continues to inspect The Toe contemplatively. Gimli decides to chime in as well.
“I agree with the elf, there is nothing else we can do for it.”
“Thank you.”
Frodo sighs, and looks over at Sam. “Will you still have me, if I do not have my toe?”
Sam looks aghast in response, and frowns at him, “You will be keeping your toe, Frodo!” And then he pauses. “Besides, you know I’m not a feet-involved hobbit.”
“Oh, good.”
Aragorn had been trying to cut in until then, and failing at every turn. Finally he gathers himself and bursts, “ We are not taking off the toe! ” That is a sufficient enough interruption to earn him his turn. “It’s still not determined if we are actually cutting it off or not; Sam might be right and it might just need some time to warm up.”
“It’s on my foot though, I think I’m the one who gets a final say in what does or does not get cut off from it.”
Aragorn simply drops his head into his hands, and sighs.