Disclaimers: I do not own The Lord of the Rings and The Twilight Saga. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and Stephenie Meyer.

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This story is pretty much sparked by a dream I had a few years ago, where Frodo is bit by the Cullens and becomes a vampire. And yes, the rule of the Twilight Saga is that Frodo becomes a sparkly vampire. In my other stories, the myth falls into place. But with Twilight, that's another story. So, I'm only following that one rule about vampires being sparkly. That's it. The plot is pretty much my own. So, let's get started…

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It began on a cold, moonlit night.

Frodo Baggins had left the Green Dragon inn early. There was no need for him to be drunk, like his cousins Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took expected to be on this night. No. Instead, he would go home, back to Bag End, and recuperate. Sober, if anything.

He closed the door on his way out, just as the smell of warm blood engulfed his nostrils. It was fresh. It was coming from his neck. His hand automatically pressed against the side of his throat. He moved his hand, glimpsing at the fresh red liquid dripping on his fingertips. The pain was excruciating. His whole body collapsed on the ground, becoming numb and burning, burning, burning!

He belted out a scream. It was faint, but inside his mind, the screams were more intense. He had to move. He had to breathe. But he couldn't breathe. His lungs were on fire, an intense fire that wouldn't abate. Eventually, his whole body shut down… and then started up again with a cold liquid coursing through his veins and body. He was alive in more than one way, but he could no longer breathe. His senses were on full alert. Only his throat pierced with the burning fire, a desire to thirst… blood. Human blood and hobbit blood. He moved back against the wall, only to leave an impression on the front. How did he receive strength his powerful?

"Hey Frodo!" One hobbit man asked, approaching him. "Are you all right?"

Frodo's eyes glimpsed intensely up at him. The blood was so strong. He couldn't take it… he moved his hand against the hobbit's neck and bit… the blood was so good… wait… was his hand sparkling? He released the man fast and ran, ran with such an incredible speed that… he had to hide. But where? At Bag End? No, the hobbits would see him. Well, maybe the woods for now. Yes, that sounded like a right nice idea.

o-o-o

Ten Months Later…

Amalia Whitmore stopped at the parking lot outside the coffee shop. She was late for work and couldn't afford to be late again. She was a brunette with soft locks of wavy hair. Her eyes were deep green and her appearance mostly consisted of a brown winter jacket, a red blouse and a long flowery skirt. She hadn't forgotten the dress code for the coffee shop, nor was she one to forget it. But on this day, she informed her boss that she was going to be late.

It was hard looking after her relatives, in the hospital. So, her reasons were sound… and her red pick-up truck. Well, someone was selling it at Forks, and so she bought it. And something about sparkly vampires from Stephenie Meyer's Twilight books were real and in Forks. Of all the nerve… no wait. Someone propelled out of thin air, landing with a fist pumped onto the cement street. Given his dirty country clothes, she could only assume it was a hobbit.

Wait. It was a hobbit. He snarled. Did he need help? But then he did just smash the street and she wasn't going to risk heading out into the street to save a superhero hobbit. Wait. Now he saw her. Maybe she should run… but she couldn't move. He rushed towards her at lightning speed and grabbed her around the waist.

"Hold on," he said in a light masculine voice.

She closed her eyes. What she didn't understand was how this hobbit was her height. Were all hobbits from Tolkien's books supposed to be this tall? She opened her eyes. The spinning stopped. They were… they were… in a wood… in Forks. No. How did he – he brought the truck, too. Was this a joke? She pushed him back a little. Man, was this hobbit strong. She could hardly push him back.

"How did you do that? Who are you?" Amalia asked, concerned.

"Frodo Baggins," Frodo said in introduction.

"You're Frodo Baggins!" she gasped. Now she was hallucinating. Maybe she would wake up if she… nope. Pinching didn't help. "What do you want? How did you get here?"

"Shh!" he shushed her. He glimpsed around for a second. Amalia was confused. There was no one out in these woods. Just what did he want with her? He stopped and looked at her again. "You have to help me. You need to change me back."

"You mean into a hobbit?" Amalia asked, confused. Frodo nodded. She admitted, "But you're a hobbit already. Unless you're a vampire, too."

"A vampire?" he shook his head. He released her, moving into the sunlight and whipping out his hand. It didn't burn, it sparkled, and he wasn't happy about it one bit. "You see? It's sparkles! What vampire sparkles?"

Amalia gasped, nearly laughing. She hadn't expected this from him. "You mean you don't like being a sparkly vampire."

"This isn't a game," Frodo said, serious. He moved his hand away from the light, rushing towards her and wrapping his arm around her once more. "I need your help to change back."

"We might want to seek out the Cullens then," Amalia said, her breath heavy. "Do you mind letting go now?"

Frodo grinned. "Why don't I take you to the Cullens' house? See if they can undo this curse that's now burdening me."

"What…" Amalia was cut off. Frodo had grabbed her and sped off through the woods. He didn't stop for anything, only stopping the moment they approached a vast glass house. Great, Amalia thought as Frodo let her down, now what do we do?

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Thanks for reading. :)