Disclaimer: I don't own the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit!

A/N: Good morning!

I give you all a chapter before I go off to work. I did my research for it and read WebMD to get the information I needed. If something isn't right, let me know! It took me quite a while to think up this idea.

Enjoy! Please review!

Medical Bay Emergencies

The next day found the four Hobbits in the cargo bay with Thorin, Dwalin, Bofur, and Aragorn. The captain of the Arkenstone had decided the Hobbits needed to know how to handle a sword, as their race was too peaceful for their own good. No amount of arguing on Sam's part had swayed Thorin's decision. Until he and Dwalin had started sparring. What started out as a lesson quickly turned into a competition between the two. They swung, dodged, parried, and turned the entire cargo bay into their battle ground. The Eagles, in particular, didn't seem to enjoy being scaled like mountains.

"Not bad," Merry said around a mouthful of jerky. Frodo glanced up in time to see Thorin flip backward off Mockingbird, Nori's ship. "They could do with a bit more style, though."

"What do you know about swords?" Sam snapped. Aragorn chuckled from his seat against the wall, an unlit pipe between his teeth. "You've never even held one."

"Looks easy enough," Merry said. "What about you, Sam? Never thought of holding one?"

"I'm not made for swords," Sam answered. "Me and the Gaffer are better made for garden shovels and hoes."

"Mm, have to agree with him," Pippin piped up. Sam glared at him. "Can't see a lick of warrior in him."

"Do you have to read my mind?" Sam demanded. Pippin's lower lip jutted out in a pout.

"I can't help it. You're the one who shouts."

"I'm not shouting!"

"Now you are."

"Sam," Frodo laughed. "Don't let them rile you up. You know Pippin likes to do that." Sam shifted on the floor, grumbling to himself. Thorin and Dwalin charged past them. Keeper, as Frodo had learned one of the axes was called, struck Orcrist hard. The metal screeched against each other as the two weapons were forced against each other by their owners.

"You don't have the guts to do it," Dwalin snarled into his captain's face. Thorin grimaced, his mouth set in a straight line, and managed to land a kick in the warrior's stomach. It sent Dwalin stumbling back. The taller Dwarf caught himself, swung both his axes backward, and threw himself at Thorin. Orcrist had just been raised to defend Thorin when Fili's voice squawked through the cargo bay.

"Thorin! You better get up here!"

"Always yelling my name," Thorin groaned, sidestepping Dwalin and lowering his sword. The warrior rolled himself out of a hard landing on his back. Pippin's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Someone's hailing us," Fili called through the intercom.

"Is it the Government?" Thorin shouted back.

"Doesn't look like it. Kili, stop pushing that button! Sorry, no it's not the Government."

"Then ignore it."

"But it's from Rivendell," Fili answered. "Kili, stop it!" Pippin snorted before slapping a hand over his mouth. "Someone named . . . Glorfindel." Aragorn bolted up from his seat on the ground, a grin plastered on his face. Thorin didn't miss the look as he sheathed his sword.

"You know him?" the captain asked.

"He is a friend of mine from Rivendell," Aragorn answered. "We have traveled together for quite some time."

"Very well," Thorin said before turning back to the intercom. "Hail Glorfindel. Invite him onto the ship."

"Aye, aye, captain! KILI, PUT THAT DOWN!" Pippin howled with laughter, falling back on the floor. Thorin sent him a fond smile. Frodo watched the Dwarf captain curiously for a moment before yawning.

"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Just tired," Frodo told his friend. "I think I'm going to go take a nap."

"All right, call us if you need anything."

"I'll be fine, Sam. We're surrounded by Dwarf warriors. What could possibly happen?"

Sam pursed his lips but didn't say anything. Clapping him on the shoulder, Frodo made his way up the stairs of the cargo bay and to the second levels. In the kitchen, Dori greeted him glumly. Nori sat in a chair before his older brother, his arms crossed. The thief wiggled his fingers in a hello before Dori returned to scolding him. Frodo shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself, and retreated to Dwalin's room in the sleep quarters. He had been assigned it by Thorin to share with the warrior during their stay.

O.o.O

Ba-ding . . . ba-ding . . . ba-ding . . . Bifur glanced up from cleaning the head of his boar spear. One of the few screens in the engine room flickered blue with a new message. Standing, the engineer strode over to investigate.

Unknown substance detected. Bifur frowned at the message. His cousin had chosen to install a purifying filter in the engine after the incidence in the Mirkwood airspace seventy-seven years ago. The filter should have done its job instead of prompting Bifur to run a scan.

Evaluate substance. Bifur typed the order into the computer. The screen flashed blue twice before proceeding to obey the order. The process took nearly twenty minutes. Bifur returned to cleaning his boar spear until the computer dinged again. A quick look made his frown deepen even more.

Quercus, Fraxinus, Acer, and Sequoiadendron. Pollen. The filter was detecting pollen. Bifur cocked his head in confusion. How had pollen gotten into their machine when they were in outer space?

O.o.O

"Who is this Glorfindel?" Thorin asked Aragorn as they waited for the cargo bay doors to open.

"He is an Elf-Lord of the house of Elrond," Aragorn explained to the captain. "He fought in the battle against Sauron. He's particular well-known for driving back the Witch-King of Angmar."

"Who's that?" Merry asked. Pippin, apparently already having heard the answer, shuddered. Aragorn spared a glance for the Hobbit over his shoulder.

"He is the leader of the Nazgûl," he explained. "The Ring-Wraiths. Sauron assigned him as his first lieutenant when the Witch-King was the first to side with him." Pippin shuddered again, earning himself a worried look from Thorin.

The tall stabilizer doors slid open at that moment, stopping all conversation. A slender ship shaped like an arrowhead lowered to the ground. Her engines cut off and the cockpit's hood hissed back, sliding against the roof of the ship.

"That's no Starlight," Dwalin growled, an impressed note in his voice.

"No, it's not," Aragorn agreed as a tall Elf swung himself out of the ship. "Elrond's sons designed a new ship. They are called Starchilds." Bofur, Thorin, and Dwalin shared knowing looks. Even Pippin seemed to know what was going on.

"Starchilds?" Sam repeated. "Why would they name a ship design something like that?"

"It's our nickname fer Bilbo," Bofur explained. "We call him our Child of the Stars. I'll tell ya the story later." Sam nodded, a suspicious look in his eyes.

"Hail, Thorin, King Under the Mountain," Glorfindel said as he strode towards the group. Merry choked on a piece of jerky, Pippin thumping him hard on the back.

"King?" Sam repeated in a soft voice.

"Hail, Glorfindel, Elf-Lord of the house of Elrond," Thorin greeted. He and the Elf bowed low to each other. Glorfindel was over twice as tall Thorin with long, golden hair. His eyes held a sort of joy in them mixed with wisdom and a fearless twinkle. He smiled at the Dwarves when they bowed in greeting and laughed at the sight of the Hobbits.

"Glorfindel," Aragorn said fondly, embracing his friend in a hug. "What brings you all the way out here?"

"Lord Elrond sent me," Glorfindel told him, drawing out of the embrace. "There are urgent matters back on Rivendell and he needs you. Arwen would have come, but her father needed her."

"We are making our way there," Thorin said with crossed arms. Glorfindel turned to face him, his young face lit up with joy. "It will only take us another day to reach the planet. Elrond can wait."

"I am afraid it is far more urgent than you understand," Glorfindel said to the Dwarf. Thorin frowned at the serious tone in the Elf's voice. "Lady Galadriel received a message from Gandalf nearly two days ago. She could not tell Lord Elrond about it until she herself understood it."

"What was the message?" Aragorn asked.

"The nine have left Minas Morgul in the Mordor System," Glorfindel said. All signs of laughter and joy fled from his face. "They have begun their hunt."

"Mother's crying find her child," Aragorn whispered, a note of horror in his voice.

"What are ya talkin' about?" Bofur asked in confusion.

"It was a prophecy of Lord Elrond," Glorfindel said before Aragorn could speak. "He spoke it nearly thirty-two years ago.

"Mother's crying find her child,

The guards are searching, all the while,

The beast is knocking at the door,

He's begun the hunt of the four."

"What does that mean?" Bofur asked, his confusion growing. Pippin frowned at the floor. His eyes flicked back and forth as though focusing on something else.

"At the time Elrond didn't know," Aragorn said. "Now it makes sense. The beast is obviously Sauron and the four . . ." His eyes trailed over to the Hobbits. "He foresaw this happening."

"I only see three Hobbits," Glorfindel commented. "Is there another?"

"Mr. Frodo went to take a nap," Sam told him. He wore the same dazed expression he had when he'd seen Tauriel. "He said he was tired."

Thorin was prepared to shrug the information off – Bilbo had been known to take a lot of naps – when he noticed Pippin's face. The tween was staring intently at the floor. His brow had furrowed and his eyes held a distant look. It was a look Thorin had started to recognize as Pippin "Reading" expression. Moving forward slowly, Thorin bent down slightly to catch Pippin's attention. The Hobbit looked up at him.

"Peregrin," he said in his deep voice. "What is it?" Pippin frowned, his lips forming a single word. "Is something wrong?"

"Frodo," Pippin whispered.

Thorin's heart pounded against his chest. Pippin had spoken in the exact same voice Bilbo had all those years ago when he'd first heard the Orc ship nearing their own. It meant trouble, someone was hurt.

"Dwalin," Thorin barked, throwing himself toward the stairs. "With me. Bofur, get to the medical bay."

"What's goin' on?" Bofur called back, even as he followed his captain. Dwalin didn't dare ask question. He just charged up the stairs after Thorin.

"Thorin?" Aragorn's call echoed up through the hall.

Thorin didn't answer either of the questions. He sped up the stairs to the second level of the ship then through the kitchen. Dori and Nori leapt out of their seats in surprise, calling after Thorin with confused words. Dwalin's boots pounded after him all the way down the sleeping quarters' hallway until Thorin skidded to a halt at Dwalin's door. It hissed open at his demand.

"Thorin, what's goin' on?" Dwalin asked, hardly panting after the short run.

Thorin ignored Dwalin, stepping into the room. He paused in the doorway for a split second, his brain processing what he saw before he could react. Frodo laid curled up on the floor, his breaths coming out in wheezing gasps. Each breath sounded like it took every ounce of strength for the Hobbit to draw. His body shuddered with them, a fist clenched against his chest.

"Asthma attack," Thorin said, hurrying to crouch beside Frodo. The Hobbit didn't respond to any of his touches or words. Dwalin knelt on the other side, checking Frodo over for himself.

"His lips've gone blue," the warrior said then swore quietly to himself. "We need to get him to the medical bay."

Thorin had already slipped his arms under Frodo. Cradling the gasping Hobbit his chest, he raced out of the bedroom. Aragorn, Glorfindel, Sam, Merry, and Pippin had gathered in the kitchen. Sam cried out at the sight of Frodo. He would have ran to Thorin if Aragorn hadn't wrapped an arm around him.

"Nori, with me," Thorin barked as he raced down the hall toward the medical bay. "Dori, the Hobbits." Nori's chair tipped backward when the thief charged after Thorin and Dwalin.

"Asthma attack?" Nori asked. The medical bay doors hissed open at their arrival. Bofur stood idly by the bed, his eyes widening when he saw Frodo. Thorin laid the wheezing Hobbit on the table.

"Aye," Dwalin answered for his captain. "We found him collapsed on the floor."

"Bofur," Thorin said. The engineer's eyes snapped up from Frodo. "What do we need?" Thorin asked seriously. He had the bare knowledge of medicine on the field, not home-based problems. He was relying entirely on the genius, praying quietly to himself Bofur had gotten bored one day and read a medical book.

"Uh . . . uh . . ." The engineer wracked his brains.

"Come on, spit it out," Dwalin growled. Frodo twitched, his wheezing growing header, and the move seemed to kick Bofur into action.

"Inhaler's no good," Bofur said with a snap of his fingers. "And we don't have a nebulizer."

"What do we have?" Thorin demanded. Bofur whirled around, ripping drawers open and digging through their contents.

"Uh, we got . . . terbutaline and ventilators," Bofur said, holding a syringe over his shoulder. Dwalin snatched it from him and slipped the protective cover off. "It'll ease the swellin' in his lungs."

"Nori, ventilator," Thorin barked. The thief snatched the face mask and oxygen tank from the cupboard Bofur had just opened. Thorin grabbed it before Nori had even finished turning around. While Dwalin injected Frodo with the terbutaline, Thorin slipped the mask over the Hobbit's face. Nori flipped the switch on the oxygen tank, releasing the air.

Several minutes passed and nothing happened. Thorin waited with baited breath. He could hear Sam shouting in the kitchen. Dori's soothing tones answered. Bofur chewed on his nails nervously.

"Come on," Dwalin muttered. "Work already." Whether by his words or the drugs kicking in, Frodo's breathing eased. The Hobbit relaxed against the table, the tensions bleeding from his body. Thorin sighed in relief. He ran a hand through his hair, whispering every prayer of thanks he could think of.

"Thank Mahal," Bofur muttered. Aragorn appeared in the doorway of the medical bay, Sam hot on his heels.

"Is he all right?" Sam asked breathlessly. Thorin waved the Hobbit forward and Sam hurried to Frodo's side.

"He'll be fine," Dwalin said, patting Sam on the shoulder. "We gave him a dose of . . ." His eyes wandered over to Bofur who muttered an answer distractedly. "Terbutaline. He's breathin' easier now."

Bifur's shout carried through the kitchen. Bofur glanced up and answered with a bark of Khuzdul. His brow furrowed at Bifur's response.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked.

"Bif says there's pollen in the air," Bofur told him. "The purifiers workin' on cleanin' it out."

"Pollen?" Sam choked. "Frodo's allergic to pollen." Thorin looked to Dwalin. He saw the same suspicion his friend's eyes as he had. Was this what had caused the attack.

"How long before the purifier cleans out the air?" Thorin asked. Bifur spoke quickly and he frowned.

"What'd he say?" Sam demanded.

"It will take the better part of the day to filter out the pollen," Thorin answered.

"The oxygen tank only has a few hours," Nori said. "And we don't have another. He wouldn't stand a chance."

"I could take him back to Rivendell." Thorin turned at Glorfindel's offer. "We would reach Imladris in that amount of time. My Lord Elrond would be able to help Frodo." Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dwalin placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We've got no other choice," the warrior growled. "This isn't just a small attack. Your friend could die here if he stays on the ship with the pollen. We need to get him out here." Shoulders drooping, Sam nodded sadly.

"Nori, help me," Thorin ordered. Once more, he scooped Frodo into his arms and lifted him to his chest. Nori grabbed the oxygen tank, following behind his captain.

"It will be all right," Thorin heard Aragorn say to Sam. "We will be there by nightfall."

Merry glanced up from his seat at the table. His eyes widened when he spotted Frodo but he didn't say anything. Thorin hurried through the kitchen, down two flights of stairs, and across the floor of the cargo bay. Glorfindel followed, passing the Dwarves with his long legs. The Elf swung himself into the pilot's seat then turned around, wiggling his fingers.

"Hand me the Hobbit," he said. "I can buckle him into the copilot's seat behind me." Nori pulled himself up onto the Starchild's wing while Thorin handed Frodo up to the Elf. The Hobbit was placed gingerly onto the seat and buckled in. Glorfindel took the oxygen tank from Nori and wedged it between Frodo's knees. Nori leapt nimbly off the wing.

"I will call you when I have reached Rivendell," Glorfindel said, seating himself in the pilot's chair.

He dragged the x-shaped seatbelt across his chest and buckled it. Thorin backed away as the ship's engine came to life. The Starchild's hood slipped forward, locking in place. Glorfindel steered the ship off the floor and into the stabilizing chamber. The ceiling-high doors slid shut with a clang. Thorin watched with a heavy heart as the doors opened once more several minutes later, the chamber void of any ships. He could only hope Frodo would be all right.

A/N: What did you think?

I realize it's not a sword to the heart, but I honestly couldn't think of any way in which the Black Riders would sneak onto a ship filled with Dwarves and not be noticed. Then I got the idea before this story for Frodo to have asthma and it all kinda clicked into place . . . I think. Anyway, I read an article on WebMD, hopefully I got my information correct.

In the book (which I follow just as much as the movie) Glorfindel was the one to find the group. He actually fought in the Battle of Fornost against the Witch-King of Angmar and was the one who foretold the prophecy: no man could kill the Witch-King. His prophecy later came true when a Hobbit and a woman killed him.

The genus names of the trees are as follows: Oak, Ash, Maple, and Sequoia. I googled to find the most productive trees when it comes to pollen and WebMD (surprise, surprise) gave me this list for allergies.

I think that's all for now. I'll see if I'm up for writing a chapter tonight.