Disclaimers: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. J.R.R. Tolkien does.

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This is another fanfic inspired by my Plot Generated Summaries. Enjoy. :)

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Frodo Baggins didn't trouble himself with rumors. It wasn't in his nature to believe them. If things went differently, he would believe every truth out there – even some truths that were harder to find. So, what was with this rumor about a hobbitess named Galadriel who enchanted men? Frodo shook his head, continuing to stare at the landscape from Bag End's bench.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam brought over a golden-haired hobbitess with the most radiant hair that Frodo had ever seen. "Mr. Frodo, this is Galadriel. She's come all the way from Needlehole, just to see you!" To see him? This wasn't like Sam!

"Thank you, Sam," Galadriel said, as Sam walked away, leaving Frodo alone with the hobbitess. Frodo looked at her, quizzically. She smiled at him, eager to talk, "Can we talk alone?"

"We are alone," Frodo said, watching the hobbitess climb over the fence and join him. "Aren't you swift?" He asked in shock and awe. "What brings you here?"

"Nothing. I came to see if you needed my help," Galadriel said, smirking.

"I'm doing just fine on my own. Thank you," Frodo said, looking away. Her soft fingertips drove him to look at her again. Those blue eyes, in a brighter shade of blue than his own. Almost grey – no. He mustn't look at her again, for fear that something might come up. "I don't think this is wise."

"What's wrong, Frodo? Can't stand the sight of me?" Galadriel asked, intrigued.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He looked at her now, unable to look away. "You are beautiful. I can't… do this… right now." He hesitated as she kissed him, unsure what was going on. She was so beautiful but also deadly. No. Wait! His lips hardly moved. He winced in pain, unable to control the screams ejected from his mouth.

She bit his neck fiercely. He was losing oxygen. Too much blood was spilt. What could he do now, except hope that his death was swift. At last, the pain numbed him. He was seeing a bright light, seeing a figure in a white robe open his arms up to him, gesturing for him to come along.

It was Eru Ilúvatar, calling him home. He stood up, unaware that at that very moment, Galadriel and another hobbit, who Frodo learned was Celeborn from the name that appeared in his thoughts, swarmed at his body, sucking the blood until he was dry. None of that mattered to Frodo now. He climbed higher towards Eru, closer to his parents. He took their hands, grateful to see them once again.

He wanted to look at his drained body, but he couldn't. This was the end of the road for him. There was no turning back now.

The End.

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Thanks for reading. :)