Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit.

This chapter is all filler, fluffy filler mind you. Just a brief glimpse of what happened after Frodo was brought to Rivendell. Two of the songs used were 'The Passing of the Elves' which is in the Fellowship extended edition and the other is Bilbo's walking song called 'Upon the Hearth is Red'.

Marie hand stopped moving mid way through a sentence, and she almost spoilt the page with an ink blot.

'I hope he's alright.'

It had been two months since her 'disappearance' from her party and the Shire, two months since Lord Elrond welcomed her to stay at Rivendell for as long as she pleased, and two months since she had begun her book.

A change of scenery was just what she needed to feed her writing and what better place than Rivendell. She had no unwanted distant relations looking to curry favor from her, no odd looks from her elder peers whispering 'crack pot' when they thought she couldn't hear and more importantly, no Sackville-Bagginses.

Marie had spent her days lost in the ethereal air of the elven halls as she penned her story or idly chatted with her host. But not that day, or the day before that.

The peace she had managed to find had come to a grinding halt when Elrond's daughter Lady Arwen came galloping into the Hidden Valley on her white steed like she had an entire orc army on her tail, her face flushed and clutching Frodo tightly to her chest.

Her poor, sweet Frodo, caught between life and the darkness. Marie had wept the whole night when she had learned what had happened.

Her hovering hand began to ache terribly and she was forced to place her quill down. She rubbed the tender joint until some of the pain faded. This had become more frequent. Marie sighed and the picked the quill once again, dipping in the ink pot. The dripping wax from the candles had pooled around it, binding it to the desk.

'Concentrate Marie. Frodo will be fine. He is in Elrond's hands.' She settled back into the comfort of her writing, letting the sound of the quill scratching on paper try and sooth her worried soul.

Another candle hissed as it burnt out as the voices of two elven maids drifted on the wind, flowing together to create a haunting melody that called Marie's thoughts away from her story again.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna miriel
o menel aglar elenath,
na-chaered palan diriel"

Marie gave up trying and placed the quill back down. 'No use in trying to force it out. Let it come to you.' She pulled her blue shawl tighter around herself and meditated.

"O galadhremmin ennorath
nef aear, sí aearon,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
Nef aear, sí aearon!"

She had to see Frodo at least once to calm her thoughts. The old hobbit slowly rose from her seat, faltering a little as her stiff bones realigned. "Oh dear." Her fingers curl around the desk's edge as she braced against the wood. Age had finally caught up with Marie during her stay, limiting her daily walks to short steps to and from her favourite spot in the garden. Some days were better than others, but today was a very bad day.

She cautiously walked to the base of her bed and grabbed the cane resting against it. Marie found it humiliating to be in need of such a thing, but as her body grew more decrepit her pride had to be put aside.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel

o menel palan-diriel,

le nallon sí di'nguruthos!

A tiro nin, Fanuilos!"

The last notes of the elves' hymn faded like the sunlight as night took hold of the valley. Marie followed the soft lights of the lily lamps as she left her room. Her trek was slow, and a touch painful for her legs, though the sounds of her footsteps and the tapping of the cane did create an unusually catchy rhythm, that was enough to distract her from the pain. When she finally arrived, light was still streaming through from the cracked door. Marie rapped her knuckles on the smooth surface before pushing it open.

"Yes? Oh, Mrs Baggins." Samwise Gamgee was sitting by the bed side, hovering over Frodo's sleeping frame like a hawk.

"Good evening Sam." Marie said and gave the young hobbit a tender smile. She could always expect Sam to be by Frodo's side. The source of the light was a single lamp, which illuminated the usually white room and turned it the colour of rich honey. "Have you gotten any sleep?"

"I'm not tired."

"Then what are those circles under your eyes?" Marie pointed her cane at him, "I'm old, not blind and you are in need of rest Samwise."

He looked between his friend and Marie. "But ... Mr Frodo ..."

"Is in capable hands. Lord Elrond would never allow Frodo to come to any further harm. He knows that he faces my wrath should that happen." There was a sliver of truth in her idle threat. She walked over to the bed and Sam immediately jumped to his feet to offer a hand. 'Always a gentleman.'

"Go and sleep dear boy." Marie patted his arm. "If Frodo wakes up, I promise you'll be the first to know." Sam's mouth started to twitch nervously before he gave a simple nod. He shuffled out of the room and Marie took his place in the chair. Frodo was propped up on the silk cushions with the blankets pulled up to his waist. His chest rose and fell at a healthy pace but Marie did not like the lack of colour in his face, it made him appear much older.

Marie retched across the bed and placed her hand over his. Frodo stirred and a pained sigh escaped his lips, but he remained asleep. "My poor boy," She murmured and rubbed her thumb against his cool skin, "What have I done to you." A small voice told her that Frodo came to harm because she had left him alone, that she wasn't there to protect him like she had promised. Yes, this would have never happened ... if she hadn't left him that ring.

That precious ring of hers ... perhaps if ...

'No. Stop it Marie.' She felt every muscle in her coil, 'You don't need it. You don't.' Marie closed her eyes took a deep breath to release the tension, 'You are here for Frodo. He needs you.'

Frodo gave another wheezy cough as Marie took the small cup from his hand. "That's disgusting Aunt Marie." He moaned. Marie just chuckled at the young boy, "A small price to pay to get better." Marie felt his forehead, still clammy to the touch.

"Your temperature has gone down a little." She poured more of the thick green liquid, "Now one more."

"Another?" The child reluctantly took the cup scrunched up his small face as his gulped down the medicine.

In Marie's mind it was better to be safe than sorry. Frodo coughed up a mouthful of the medicine back into the cup and hunched over in pain. "Alright, just breathe Frodo." Marie removed the cup and rubbed his back, "If it needs to come out let it."

Frodo tried to take a deep breath but ended up just coughing harder. The small fit sapped what little energy the boy had left and he fell back on his bed exhausted. "Stupid cold."

"I warned you Frodo, swimming in the middle of autumn will always result in a cold." Marie stood up and walked over to the small hearth to stoke it, "Trust me I've had more than enough experience," She quietly added on. The burning wood popped and sent tiny flecks of embers as Marie added extra timber to the hearth.

"But Merry and Pip were swimming too and they didn't get sick."Frodo said with a huff, "And it was their idea."

"It matters little now," Marie sighed. "Now, time for bed." Frodo wriggled into the sheets until he was almost parallel, his dark hair sticking out against the pillow. Marie tucked him in extra tight to help prevent the chills coming back.

"Aunt Marie, could you tell me another story? Please?"

"Not tonight my boy. You need to sleep."

"But I'm not sleepy."

Marie smiled, "Just close your eyes."Frodo did as he was told, but squeezed his eyelids together tightly. Marie brushed her fingers across his forehead over and over until the tightness eased. She leaned in a little closer and began to croon softly.

"Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed,
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still around the corner we may meet"

Frodo snuggled his head as he suppressed a small cough, but relaxed at the sound of her voice.

"A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass. Let them pass.
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by. Pass them by."

She kept singing to him, even long after he had succumbed to his on fatigue and her gentle touch.

Those memories were as warm as the embers that once burned in the many hearths of Bag End. Marie tightened her grip on Frodo's hand, afraid that he would be snatched away from her. She quietly sang in a broken voice.

"Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade. Away shall fade.
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And to bed. And then to bed."