Disclaimer: I own none of this. I am simply borrowing the characters mentioned, to fulfil the idea of this story within my mind.
Nightmares of Foreboding
Closing his eyes as if to seal away all pain forever, Frodo sighed. The darkness was overwhelming; it tore at him, clawing at him with invisible fingers of shadow with nails of flame. Sweat appeared on his brow, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. The pain of his shoulder deepened steadily. Biting his lip against the pain, he stifled a scream.
He was tired of such nights, tired of the loneliness, the pain, everything. He just wished that it would all end. He didn't tell Sam about nights like this, he couldn't. Such nights came often, when it was dark and he could vaguely see flashes of red across the sky towards the east where lay Mordor.
The cold, hard stone of the stairs dug into his back. Turning, he tried to find a more comfortable position, as he did each night. The darkness was overwhelming, even more so when he closed his eyes and at last succumbed to sleep; wherein his dreams he saw a great eye, lidless and wreathed in flame. Always it seemed to be searching, and then it fiery gaze would turn on him, and shadowed hands with flaming nails would grab at him.
The stairs seemed to go ever upwards, so much so that they seemed to never end. Frodo had heard Faramir's words of the dark terror. He only hoped that terror was not his dreams coming true. He was weakening, slowly but surely. Sam could see this; worrying about him constantly. He couldn't be helped. Indeed, Frodo knew that if he ever survived this Quest, the Dark Lord of the Ring would have claimed him still. The nightmares would plague him as they did each night, the shadowed hands reaching out to grab him…
He watched with half a smile as the others received their gifts from the Lady. His heart ached at leaving such a land filled with light, and happiness; for a time he had been able to forget his grief, and the thought of what lay inevitably ahead. He wasn't aware that she was in front of him, until she spoke.
"And you, Frodo Baggins, I give you the Light of Earendil, our most beloved star…"
Frodo gazed up at the Lady with glassed over eyes, she seemed to notice this, a glimmer of sorrow filled her gaze, but her words did not falter.
"…May it be a Light for you in Dark Places, when all other Lights, go out."
She seemed to know something that he didn't, or perhaps he did though he chose to push it to the back of his mind.
With a feather-kiss upon his brow that seemed as if she was trying to tell him that he needn't give up hope, Frodo Baggins bid at last farewell to the fading land of Lothlorien.
"Namarie…"
Sealing his mind against the memory, that, like all others seemed to cause him pain even if it was one of joy, Frodo sighed. He could not ignore any longer the fact that the Lady, like all others he had bid farewell to, was trying to warn him of a darkness coming that he could not escape. A darkness that would take the shape of all his nightmares.
Indeed, Frodo feared that he would have dire need of this Gift of Light before the End.