Inspiration for Chapter 8: "The Purple Rose of Cairo" film; George Clooney's Nespresso Commercial, "The Quest".

Song for Chapter 8: "Radioactive" – Lindsey Stirling and Pentatonix – Imagine Dragons Cover;

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Sorry for the really long delay. I was working on my Origin Series, and real life took over. So, it's been difficult working on this chapter. Anyway, here it is. Enjoy! :)

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Frodo found sleep eventually, knowing his mind was restless. Seraphina kissed him! Why would she do that? And why did he have this feeling there was more going on than him losing his mind? The dreams didn't help either. But this was no ordinary dream. It was another memory.

He remembered losing his memories, the second he left the Portal Realm for the Third Age, or at least part of the Third Age. There he was, serving the role of teacher and there was Seraphina calling him "Mr. Sandy-Pants". Now, why would she do that? It was as if she wasn't already annoying. He forgave her. She was a kid. What more could she do?

The dream changed, showing Frodo remembering all that occurred to him in the past. He remembered what became of Parker Dooley and the Dragonoid Realm, which ended up zombified. He remembered Parker feeling ashamed that he lost another realm, another home. Frodo knew Parker sought out the Land of Dragons… it had been so long since he'd been there.

Frodo wondered how much Parker remembered, and also what had changed in the Land of Dragons.

Then Frodo recalled Bethany, his brunette-haired wife with blue-green eyes. She and Frodo had turned vampiric. They did all sorts of stuff that was downright villainous. Frodo had never behaved like a villain before, but this vampiric side showed a darker side to him, something that Frodo didn't understand. He remembered being a vampire. He remembered taunting a scarred lioness named Scar-ra | Qua'ra Holdo to help him turn everyone vampiric.

Had that happened? Was everyone vampires now? Frodo didn't know. He could feel a little vampire side to himself growing, but it was weak. Maybe he was a vampire. Maybe, just maybe he could plague a whole town or a city with his vampiric abilities.

The dream ended with the hobbits who resembled himself, Elijah Molvaro and Ronnie Baggins, becoming High King and King of the Land of Talking Animals. By the time Frodo woke up, he looked around in angst, checking the clock to see how long he'd slept. Four hours? Four hours? No way! It was already four o' clock in the afternoon.

He remembered Bethany. But now he needed to find her. And then there was that television set located across the room. He turned on the TV, finding it strange that the screen grew larger, or else he was being sucked into the screen and possibly landed on the other side.

The television was huge. It must have been a large television set because the box stopped growing, showing Frodo an audience watching him. And then, there was a girl in her early teens becoming engrossed in the movie that she was watching. It must be Bethany, only her younger self! How did he find her? His memories weren't fully restored. But he remembered her! Gosh, she was so young and so pretty. He had to meet her; see how she was doing. But how was he to do that, when he was stuck inside the hospital? Hmm.

He looked around, checking to make sure no one was watching. Parker was sound asleep, dreaming away of far off places. Frodo couldn't take this. He looked at his arms, surprised the IVs weren't still there. One of the nurses had to have taken out his IVs. Either way, he was prepared to see what the television had to offer.

There was Bethany, inside her home. The television set where she was watching her movies played in the background. Oh man! Bethany grew up a little. She was in her mid-teens, watching whatever movie was on. Frodo smirked, engrossed by the television and what Bethany was doing.

He had to see her! He had to see how she was doing!

He looked around, checking to make sure no one saw him, before stretching forth his hand towards the television screen. No way! His hand went right through the television screen. He pulled his hand back, surprised it was still whole. He looked around again. The nurses were busy. Seraphina was arguing with a man, who had a bad temper. Frodo sighed, returning his gaze to the television. He just needed to push through… and he'd fallen through.

He looked around, even at himself. He was still wearing his hospital gown, with its pretty blue flowers on the front and back of the gown. He checked himself over. He was still himself, but he felt different. Younger. He looked at a mirror that hung on a stand next to him. The mirror had an oval gold frame and seemed to be calling out to him. He looked at the mirror's reflection, surprised to see his own reflection showed himself as a teenage boy.

A teenager? Wait. Was he sixteen? He looked again, sure he missed something. Yes, he was younger. How could that be? Was this Aslan's doing?

He turned his gaze to the room before him. He was in a den, the basement of a house, as it were. White walls were decked with photographs of relatives past and present. Beige carpets lined the floors, while orange and blue furniture stood out most around this spot, where the large television was set up.

Frodo turned his head to the large television set. There was Seraphina looking at his empty hospital bed, searching for him. Eliza was there, too, looking for him. Eliza roused Parker Dooley, leaving the light red dragonoid feeling restless. They knew something had happened to Frodo. They knew it! Why else were they searching for him?

Frodo smirked; glad they didn't find him. He rolled his eyes. Good riddance! Now, maybe he could find Bethany and convince her they were husband and wife. Could he do that? How was he supposed to find her? She could be anywhere. Was this her den? Did he intrude on a very important weekend?

He looked up as a hobbit man entered the den. The way the hobbit stopped and looked at him frightened him. The man dropped his envelopes, too shocked to see him. Frodo smirked softly. They were probably bills that needed to be paid up. That was Frodo's guess, at least.

Frodo stared at the hobbit man as he spoke to him, "Frodo Baggins?" The hobbit beamed, leaving Frodo staring at him more. Frodo's teen self flooded through his thoughts, making him forget he was thirty-three or thirty-four years old. He already forgot how old he was when Seraphina kissed him. Had it really been that long ago, since she last did that to him?

Frodo turned his gaze towards the nearby stone fireplace. There was Aslan, the Great Lion, roaring from the orangish-yellow flames. Frodo looked at himself, surprised to see what had happened to him. His clothes changed, transforming into a white dress shirt, a velvet jacket, a velvet waistcoat, tan suspenders, and velvet breeches. He looked himself over, surprised he was wearing normal clothes.

He looked up at the man, frightened to see this older hobbit looking back at him with great compassion in his eyes. The hobbit moved towards him, pressing his hand against Frodo's shoulder. Frodo looked quizzically at him. He could hardly believe it. "Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins? Uncle?"

"You're real," Bilbo stated, shocked to see he was alive. "We thought you were dead. Your parents and I… we searched the whole of Buckland and the Shire, but we couldn't find you. Your parents are worried sick."

"How are they? My parents?" Frodo asked, cautiously. He gulped, fearing the worst. "They aren't dead, are they?"

Bilbo shook his head, relieving the boy. Frodo placed a hand over his chest, grateful to hear this. If his parents were alive, then he wondered how old they were, how much had changed since he left the Shire, since he left Buckland. They must have been worried about him. They must have! Frodo couldn't imagine them not being worried about him.

He looked at his uncle, wondering how he got here and how they were inside a different house. Wait. Was this a hobbit house?

"Uncle, tell me something," Frodo inquired.

"Of course, my lad. What is it?" Bilbo asked, kindly.

"Where exactly are we? I mean, this isn't Bag End," Frodo said, cautiously.

"It is a hobbit house. Something similar to Bag End. They have hobbit houses on this world now," Bilbo said, relieving the boy even further.

"We're inside a hobbit house?" Frodo asked, excited. Bilbo nodded, relieving him. "Where are we? We're not at Bag End or the Shire." He admitted, "It's been too long since I've seen the Shire. I wonder how much has changed there."

Bilbo nodded. "It has, but not much." He looked at the floor, telling him as he helped Frodo on his feet, "Come on. Let's get you off the floor, and get you something to eat and drink. You must be starving."

"I am!" Frodo said, looking back at the television set. He smirked, delighting in the fact that Seraphina was confused. It was the Shire, or so Frodo pictured as Seraphina searched for him. And with not every memory he had resolved, he feared he might not get to see the rest of his memories. What did that mean for him then?

"Come on, Frodo!" Bilbo said, leading Frodo away from the television set. As they walked across the den, Bilbo asked, "So, what brings you here? How did you get from the hospital to my house so fast?"

"What?" Frodo asked, confused.

Bilbo stopped, looking him over. "Frodo, when I first saw you, you were wearing a hospital gown. Now, you're dressed like any old hobbit. Not that you're old! But you get what I mean."

"Aslan changed my clothes with a single roar. He must do that. How else do I explain how I changed my clothes so fast?" Frodo said, accepting that it was just Aslan's doing, nothing more.

Bilbo huffed, shaking his head. Frodo was confused. Bilbo looked so young. It was as if something had happened to make Bilbo become young, just like it did for Frodo. How was this possible? Bilbo looked like he was in his mid-thirties.

How? How could this happen? Surely, there must be a reason.

Bilbo stopped, facing him, as he said, "Frodo, how are you here? I mean, you're sixteen years old. Surely, there must be a reason. Did you fall through a portal? A trapdoor?"

"A—A trapdoor? Bilbo…"

"Frodo, I need to know. What happened to you?" Bilbo said, serious.

Frodo sighed, finding his mind filling up with memories. Memories he had yet to discover. First, he was five years old, having the time of his life, when Aslan took him away from Buckland. He could remember being in Buckland one minute and ending up with Aslan in the next.

So, what happened next? Well, besides going on all these marvelous adventures, adventures he had yet to understand, was beyond him. There was something about salt, too, that was important. Parker Dooley didn't understand, but Frodo knew the salt would help others. Parker neither knew nor cared about the salt, just to make Frodo amnesiac, so the light red dragonoid could continue with his own mission. That was a memory that just wouldn't go away. Then there were all those other times when Frodo became amnesiac. That didn't help either!

The fact that Frodo actually needed to become amnesiac was beyond him. How was he supposed to remember all that transpired in his life, now that he'd been amnesiac? Well, that was a wild story he would need to explain to Bilbo, as soon as possible.

"Uncle, you'll think I'm mad," Frodo said, following Bilbo upstairs and into the rest of his house. "I've been on an adventure. I'd like to tell you about it."

"Then tell me. Tell me what you've discovered," Bilbo said, leading Frodo into the kitchen, where he made the lad some tea.

Frodo looked around the kitchen, seeing it was decked out in white and black tiles, along the wall. The cupboards were made from oak wood, while the sink was silver, the dishwasher was black, and the large refrigerator was silver as well, complete with its own ice and water dispenser. The floor was wood paneled, made from mahogany wood while the island had a white and black tiled countertop, with black and silver stools sitting next to the island.

Frodo sat down on one of the stools, admiring the kitchen. He sighed, taking in the appliances and the black oven that stood out against the wall. He looked back at his uncle, who was busy making the tea to notice him. Frodo paused, waiting for Bilbo to set the tea kettle on the stovetop, before looking back at him.

Frodo nodded, knowing he needed to say something.

"So, lad, what happened?" Bilbo said.

"You wouldn't believe me, if I told you," Frodo said.

Bilbo chuckled. "Frodo, we're not in the Shire. Yes, this is a hobbit house, but we're not in the Shire after all." He sat down on a stool opposite him, asking him, "Tell me what happened to you."

"It's a long story," Frodo said.

"We have time," Bilbo said.

Frodo took a deep breath, saying, "All right. Here goes." He looked up, regaling every memory that poured out. He hadn't expected to tell a long story, but this story gushed out at him like a waterfall. He was relieved to recall it to someone again, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as more memories poured out of him.

There were memories of his time with the faeries. Then his time in Evermore with the wizards and witches, Merlin, and Gabriel, too. Then, to his surprise, his time as a vampire and how that was resolved. He remembered new memories, even the fire that spread out in the First Base. An armory was destroyed, which was partially his fault and partially Bethany's fault, too. Then an upcoming Great Battle, and the time Parker had to make him and himself amnesiac on purpose, on purpose for Parker but seemingly natural to Frodo.

Ah! Frodo wished he remembered all of this sooner. Then he could understand how he got this far. He sighed, glad to have remembered it all so quickly.

He sighed, looking up at his uncle when he was done with his story. He looked at the window. It was sunrise. Had he talked throughout the night? He couldn't tell. He was too tired to think straight.

"We talked for so long?" Frodo said, yawning. He hadn't realized how tired he was. He looked up at his uncle, wondering, "Uncle, may I use the bathroom? I probably should head off and find Bethany." He sighed, wondering if the story he recalled had already been told. "Tell her what happened to the First Base."

"Yes, you probably should," Bilbo said, as Frodo stood up, nearly collapsing on the floor. Bilbo advanced towards him, grabbing him before he did just that. "Frodo, maybe you should get some sleep. I've got a guest room that you might like."

Frodo looked back at his uncle, agreeing with him. "Yes, I probably should. Thank you." He followed his uncle out of the kitchen, before he fell again. He really couldn't see straight. All he could remember was heading into a guest room, taking a seat on the bed. He looked up, resting his hand against his forehead. He blinked several times, too distraught to do much of anything else.

His eyes widened as he felt movement coming from the covers. Feet moving. He looked around, surprised to see a young teenage girl with brunette hair and blue-green eyes staring back at him. It was Bethany. What? She looked down, causing him to sneak into bed with her. It was his wife and she was sad. Didn't she know he was here?

"Uncle, what should I do?" Frodo looked up. Bilbo was gone. It was just Frodo and Bethany. Didn't she know he was here for her?

"Bethany, don't… don't be sad. Don't be sad!" Frodo said, feeling her forehead. Yes, it was her and she was distraught, too. Had she seen him, noticed him? No wonder she couldn't compose herself.

Frodo sighed, taking a look around the room. It was almost as if the rooms were connected. Oh, he had to do something and fast. He waited until she was back down under the covers before resting a hand against her arm. Sleep crept over him, allowing him to forget the world and just think about her, his wife.

He'd marry her. That much was clear! It's just… how long would he have to wait for her? Well, he'd find out. But how long would that take?

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References:

Evermore comes from the video game, "Age of Wonders II: The Wizard's Throne".