Disclaimers: All material from The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. All original material, including the fact that Frodo is a vampire in this, belongs to me, the author.
This one-shot is inspired by my plot generator story Frodo Baggins, the Vampire, and Other Stories, which can now be found on Archive of Our Own or AO3. Well, because it's October, this idea came up again. Besides, because it's Frodo, I know he's up for anything. Also, I've had a couple of dreams involving Frodo and vampires; so, it's not new territory, other than this story.
At first, there was nothing but pain and coldness. The hobbit Frodo Baggins nearly thought he could find warmth, but there was none. Just an endless cold that wouldn't cease, filling up his body before his mind could keep up. Then there was the fiery pain in his lungs, stomach and throat, which dried him and made him feel thirsty. He did not know why, but the second he woke up, he wanted something to drink. He needed something to cure his thirst and make him whole again.
Getting out of bed, Frodo rushed into the bathroom faster than he thought. Landing hard on the sink, he stopped and checked, only to find the ceramic was cracked but not broken. His relief didn't match his hands trembling. Peering up at the mirror, he saw the same blue-eyed hobbit staring back at him. Moving a curly lock of brown hair off his neck, he stared at the teeth wound protruding on his neck. Dripping down the deep wound was blood, which stained his shirt and shoulder on the right side. He was lucky to be alive, but the burning sensation of needing to thirst was driving him nuts. He didn't feel like the same hobbit as he once was.
"I know I'm in Bag End…" His hearing was so clear. He could hear the faint whispering wind, the rays of the sun and the front green door to the hobbit hole. Staring at the mirror, Frodo told his reflection, "I need to leave, before I hurt someone."
In a great stride, Frodo reached the hallway leading to the entrance hall. Looking over his shoulder, for a moment, he watched Samwise Gamgee enter Bag End. It was obvious: Sam came to see how he was doing. He could smell the warmth on Sam's neck. Maybe just a bite… maybe… no, he needed to control himself. He moved fast, in hopes of avoiding Sam's gaze. Luckily, he made it out the door in time.
Just being outside, there was a whiff of sights, sounds and smells that Frodo never expected witnessing. Every smell mattered, as did every sound. It was all music to his ears. From the bustling market to the forest animals in the woods nearby, he could hear and smell everything. He caught the scent of hobbit not two miles away. Growling behind his teeth, he darted straight into the woods behind the Hill. He had to get away from civilization. He wasn't safe around them.
He was close to his prey now. Watching his footing, Frodo sped to a stop behind a bush. There was his prey: a full-grown rabbit, hopping close to the bush. He didn't stop the rabbit from seeking him out. He would have to be quick. Moving silently away from the bush, he pounced on the rabbit. As he grasped the rabbit with his hands, the rodent squirmed, letting out a few loud bellows in fright. Finding he needed to put the creature out of its misery, before it sent other rabbits in to attack him, he set his hand around its neck, sinking his teeth into the critter.
The taste of blood, even animal blood, was at first the most unusual meal he ever had. He couldn't stop drinking it. Even within that moment, everything seemed right to him. He wanted more blood, even as the rabbit twitched and stopped moving altogether. He stopped right as the creature was drained of blood. Taking a good look at the animal corpse, Frodo's thirst was now at its peak. A hand grasped his shoulder, causing him to jerk his head skywards. Before him was a figure robed in white.
"Frodo, what are you doing?" The figure stayed with him. Frodo was amazed he wasn't afraid of him.
"You're Eru Ilúvatar," Frodo said without question. Realizing he was with an important figure, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, leaving behind a large red stain on his now bloodied dress shirt.
"And you are making a mistake, Frodo Baggins." Eru looked down at him. Frodo felt sick. "This life, being a vampire, is not for you. You're a good hobbit, not a vampire. Killing that innocent creature and drinking its blood will only make you crave more. To make sure you find a way to break this curse I will make sure you don't drink blood ever again. The blood you have drank, you will spit out. It will return to the earth. You will not be a normal vampire, as you will not drink blood. When you break this curse, you will be you again, but no more blood. Is that understood?" Frodo hardly knew what to say. How could he be a vampire if he couldn't drink blood? He jumped when Eru asked him, "Frodo?"
"Help me break this curse, please?" Frodo gazed up at Eru, as if hoping for some resolve.
"I will, and I will ensure that you don't drink blood, but instead water. You'll find out soon what put you under this curse." Eru informed him. Frodo peered over his shoulder again, only to find that Eru had vanished.
Dizziness swarmed Frodo's vision, making him feel worse. He closed his eyes, only to find the contents inside his stomach were now on the ground. He felt queasy again, releasing more blood and vomit out of his system. Once the second attack was over, he opened his eyes. Turning his eyes upwards, he watched as the blood and vomit sunk into the ground, dissipating until the grass returned to its normal green color. Looking over his shoulder, he watched the rabbit corpse as it fell into a hole, before that hole buried itself and the ground too returned to its natural state.
He felt strange again. Yes, he wanted to drink blood, he craved it. However, his mind filled with another thought, something he had forgotten, something that needed to be told to him. Taking a seat on the ground, Frodo's mind filled with thoughts of the night of his turning into a vampire:
It was like any other moonlit night. Frodo was at his worst state of the Morgul wound. He screamed, watching the clear, vivid images of the Nazgûl sneaking towards him and the Witch-king's blade snaking into his left shoulder. He didn't want to be reminded of this, but he couldn't snap out of it.
"Mr. Frodo? Mr. Frodo!" Sam's cries were loud in his ears. But he couldn't see Sam. Frodo couldn't see anyone but the Witch-king. He wanted Sam to be there, and yet that moment stopped when Sam told him, "I'll get Rosie. I'll be right back."
Frodo could hear Sam's footfalls leave his bedroom at Bag End. He was alone again. He was alone with the nine Black Riders. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating. His body lurched, writhing here and there as if the memory was too strong. He needed to get out of this vision, if this was a vision. He needed Sam with him. Where were his friends? Why was he alone in this turbulent time? He did not know the answer, only that he needed to get out of this mess.
Everything turned to darkness in the blink of an eye. Yes, he relaxed, but he felt cold and in pain. His neck hurt at an alarming rate, the source: teeth biting down near his right shoulder. His spirit returned to his body, but the pain forced him to scream. While his eyes were still shut, he could feel warm liquid crawling down his shoulder and shirt. He couldn't stop himself screaming for the past several moments. The pain was too much to bear. Then it was over and he relaxed, but he felt changed. His teeth felt sharper, while his senses were alert, more so than they had been.
What had he become?
Frodo knew the answer, even as the recent memory shifted away, returning him to the present state. He was a vampire now, but what or who bit him certainly had a reason for being there. And yet it was Eru that changed him again, making him an unusual vampire. One thing was for certain: to find the creature and ask it to change him back into a hobbit. The road wouldn't be easy, but then he needed to find a way to keep away from civilization.
He knew then keeping away from civilization wasn't possible. Changing his tactics, Frodo knew he should clean up. He couldn't be seen with blood stains on his shirt and suspenders. Using speed and scent to his advantage, he found a river with ease. Plunging into the river, he tried to hold his breath until he couldn't anymore. To his amazement, he was still breathing underwater. How was that possible?
Eru's voice was faint in his ears, but a few words were clear: "The water will clean you up."
Frodo closed his eyes. In that moment, he felt revitalized and refreshed. What made the whole situation better was his clothes were clean, the blood evaporated. He pressed his hand to his neck, a shock of pain entering his body from that spot. The pain hadn't left, but it felt worse underwater. All he could feel was pain in his neck.
"Head to the surface," Eru told him. Frodo thanked him for his guidance, as he climbed higher up to the water's surface.
Hitting the surface at last, Frodo coughed and sputtered. Glad to be near shore, he pushed himself up and onto the grassy land. He was filled with water, but some of it came out of his mouth. He was exhausted. Rolling over on his back, he stared up at the sunlight. It was so warm and burned his skin. He would disappear before the day was done. As he watched his skin dry up and disappear into the sunlight, a robed figure stood over him. It was Eru. He could see his face, staring down at him with growing concern. He closed his eyes, as Eru covered them with his large hand.
"Sleep, Frodo. This will all be over soon." Eru's voice was melodic in his ears.
Frodo could feel the deep tendrils of sleep reach his mind. The pain was going away. He could feel pain in his neck, but it was subtle. His teeth already felt less sharp, back to their usual size. The pain in his left shoulder receded, too, allowing him to breathe better. He was returning to the darkness fast, entering deeper and deeper into it as if there was no stopping it. Images swept into his mind now: a creature with sharp teeth and fangs, smiling in a menacing manner; the creature digging its fangs into the soft part of his flesh; Pearl smiling at him; familiar faces of his Uncle Bilbo, Sam, his cousins Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and, yes, Boromir. All those faces – well, except the creature's gaze and maybe Pearl – he missed. Would he ever see them again? The darkness turned into a bright white light. Was he beyond the Circles of the World? Would he be reunited with Eru Ilúvatar?
"There," came the familiar voice of Lord Elrond Half-elven. Frodo opened his eyes slowly. In the dark-haired elf's hands was a cloth with deep dark stains. He yawned, surprising Elrond, who told him, "Frodo, you're awake."
"Finally," said a silver-haired elf woman. Frodo recognized her as Lord Elrond's wife, Lady Celebrían.
For a long moment, Frodo hardly knew where he was. Could he still be in the tortured dream? He killed a rabbit with his teeth. Then there was that creature with those fangs. A vampire. No, how could he be like that beast? Vampires were just a myth, something left behind by Sauron. There was no way he could be like one of them. What bit him exactly?
"Frodo, do you remember where you are?" Celebrían asked him. Her voice was firm and motherly to his ears, something he hadn't heard in years from his own mother.
"Tol Eressëa," Frodo answered softly, staring at her as if he was looking at Galadriel. He massaged his neck. He felt so thirsty, but what he wanted was water. He asked, his voice hoarse, "What happened to me, and my neck?"
"You were screaming," Celebrían explained, "and you punched your neck. We had to work quickly to continue healing your shoulder. I understand this is not a good day for you."
"I was a vampire," Frodo murmured, the words feeling a distant memory.
"Frodo, you are a hobbit, not a vampire. This much I know." Elrond gave his conclusion. "My conclusion: you fell asleep and dreamt a horrific dream."
"Yes." Frodo felt his head. "It was horrible. I wanted to…" He couldn't let the words out. A tear shed from his face. He let the tear fall, not bothering to wipe it off. Gazing up at Celebrían, Frodo asked, "Why would I do that?"
"Do you want a glass of water?" Celebrían asked him.
Frodo felt his throat. It was burning up. He nodded silently, the need for water being great.
"I'll get you some." Celebrían stood up and walked away from him. The last he saw of the silver-haired elf was her disappearing behind a door.
Frodo rested his head against the pillow. Feeling more alert and remembering the past, even the fateful evening in which the Witch-king stabbed him with the Morgul blade, he wondered whether he would have the chance to see Sam again. He missed his best friend. It would be nice to see the hobbit and his family. But first, he needed a clean shirt. His body shivered from the cold wind.
With Lord Elrond's help, Frodo found himself clothed in a nightgown. Relaxing in Elrond's arms, he went back to sleep. He stayed in the darkness until he woke up hours later, covered in clean sheets and lying on his back on a warm mattress. Relief washed over him: he was lying in his bedroom at the hobbit house built for him and Bilbo, given to them by the elves. He checked his shoulder and found it still hurt, but most of the pain was gone. He did not know how long that pain would last, but for now he could rest peacefully. And it was enough.
How was that? I realize this was a two-fold story: the vampires and the anniversary of Frodo's Morgul wound, something I didn't intend on happening but it did. Thanks for reading. :)