~Max~

I come to slowly, to feel pain lancing through my head pounding through it like someone is smashing a sledgehammer on it with each heartbeat, making any coherent thought almost impossible. Oh gosh I feel like the day after a all night drinking fun time with my cousins where we get so wasted we decide to set off loud fireworks in the middle of the night, roller blade down a steep hill (even though none of us know how to roller blade or its been years since we tried), sled down stairs and dance on table tops and whatever other crazy things I try not to remember.

Oh I regret everything.

Finally after what feels like an eternity I grow used to the pain and I'm able to piece together my thoughts, and try to remember what happened that put me in this position. The super wolf comes to mind along with the information that it was a Warg (same thing really), and I was saving some Hobbits from it.

I force myself to take a deep breath and asses the damage down to my body. I start with my fingers and I'm rewarded when I feel them move but flinch at the pain in my left arm that I'm sure is fractured from the Wargs jaws. I move my mental checklist to slowly rotate my shoulders and find that doesn't hurt either. Encouraged I try to left up my right hand to touch my face and I'm surprised when half way there another warm hand clasped mine.

My eyes snapped open and I immediately regret it as the light stabs through my brain and I let out an involuntary moan of pain and shut my lids quickly to block out the light.

"Open your eyes, Freya."

I follow the order for if I'm anything, its stubborn, and I force my eyes to open and push through the pain. I blink rapidly and my my eyes focus on a weathered face above me. I frowned up at the old man and he grinned at seeing I was awake.

"You have to get up, Freya."

Two things struck me at that comment first. Freya? Who was that and why was he calling me that? Two, I found it amusing that he should be telling me to get up when it being me, if I could do that it would of been the very first thing I would of done.

"Come on dear," the old man said, “You can't lay here the rest of the day. Night is coming. Now get up."
Dude! I want to yell at him, If I wanted to get up I would be up! Stop pushing me!

As it was though I tried to move my legs, the left one moved and was only mildly sore, the other one though . . . when I tried to move my right leg, pure agony shot through my leg and I cried out and my vision dimmed a moment but I refused to black out. Its just pain I tell myself, you've endured worse, now buck up.

I take several deep breath as I come back to myself getting a grip on the pain letting it roll through me and become aware that I'm being held, and I'm much warmer than I was before. Did someone put a blanket on me? Please lord don't let it be the dead warg skin. Please anything but that

Whatever it was I didn't rightly care (that much), all I wanted was to sink down and go back to sleep. Maybe my head wouldn't hurt so much if I did that.

But someone had other ideas.

"No Freya!" the old man's voice shouted. "You must not fall asleep!"
Oh come on, I groaned to myself, I'm comfy! And I do not under any circumstances like being yelled at!

"Come along, Freya. Wake up. You can't go to sleep yet."

My logic mind know he's telling the truth as I suspect I may have a head injury and I know falling asleep with one is very dangerous and that is the only reason why I force my eyes back open.

"That's it. Good Freya. Open your eyes."

It seemed to take more effort than it did before, and I struggled to do it, slowly for the cranky old man.

"Freya. You open your eyes this instant or you will find out what it is like to be on the wrong side of Gandalf the Grey. Believe me. You do not wish to see me uncloaked."

Now that truly is a horrifying image. I managed to get them open again and winced at the pain assaulting me. The old man, Gandalf rubbed my back to comfort me and I managed to chock out.

"Ow."

Gandalf chuckles lightly in what I sense to be relief. "Yes I know it hurts but you must stay awake."

"I know," I managed. "Head injury . . . dangerous."

"Thats right, young hobbit. So I need you to talk with me. Can you tell me your name?"

"Its not . . . Freya," I said, struggling to talk. "It's . . . Max Sol."

Gandalf stares at me another long moment studying my face, then looks away to nod to himself. “I see, you don't remember."

My frown deepens, as I'm positive I've never meet Gandalf before. I definitely would have remembered that, Gandalf is quite a character.

:Remember what?" As I spoke I could feel the large hands moving over my body gently.

He doesn't answer and instead asks. "Do you know how you got here?"

I sighed and then gasped out in agony as the hands found my right leg. Oh yeah something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

"I am sorry, Max. How did you say you get here?"

"I didn't and I don't remember."

As I look up into Gandalf's face, I realize he doesn't entirely look like Ian McKellan. There are similarities, but there is a distinct difference. His cheekbones are wider, his mouth is fuller and his face is more lined. I cock my head intrigued by the similarities and differences.

Then I suddenly remember the others.

"Where are the other Hobbit?"

I look around me without waiting for a reply and my eyes widen when they fall on the three young hobbits I saved from the Warg.

One has light hair and hazel eyes and is the tallest of the tree, he stares at me with a wary look pushing the youngest Hobbit with reddish-brown hair and green eyes, behind him protectively. Something clicks in my head and I can put names to their face's.

Merry and Pippin.

I turn to the last and gasp at the sight of Frodo Baggins.

He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen with clear white skin that looked luminous and clear, eyes such a deep sapphire blue they practically glowed and hair as dark as a ravens wings set in loose unruly curls. I didn't realize how he would be when I got a good view of him. Unlike how I'd always seen him—much less envisioned him—he looks wiser, specially for his age. He doesn't look stunned so much as, well, curious. I know he's intelligent (I can see it in his eyes) and he study's me like I'm an enigma he can't solve.

"Hello," I tell him. "Are you all okay?"

"Were-um . . . Were okay, Max," Frodo said. "You saved us." He extends his hand. "I am Frodo Baggins," he says gently.

I reach out with my uninjured hand to shake his hand, the skin tender in my grip. His bones are fine, small, and I sighed in relief. "Good, I'm glad your all okay."

I study his feet as he moves to step back. They are quite large, and far more hairy than I realized before. He walked quickly for being so small. I wonder as I study him what it feels like to hold him. I've always wanted to; he's so small. I immediately berate myself for thinking such things.

"Your age?" Gandalf wondered.

"Twenty-five," I said, hoping that they would take the hint and not patronize me.

Gandalf clicked his tongue. "Only a child among Hobbits ages . . ." I didn't like that comment, and thats not how I wanted that comment to go at all but before I can say anything else he asks. "What do you know about Wargs, Max?"

I frown not understanding why he's asking me this. "There big, ugly and smell bad."

He smiles. "Yes, dear . . . Do you know Frodo's father is the son of a friend of mine. What was his name, now, Bilbo?" The hands found my right arm. I jerked over at Gandalf in shock both from my arm and wondering if I had heard him right. Son? Frodo was Bilbo's son? Frodo was his nephew in both the movies and books. Why is it different?

It was obvious that Gandalf was not going to leave me alone so I decided the easiest course of action was to answer the questions, to keep from falling asleep.

"Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins. You know all this."

"Do I? A wizard is very busy Miss Sol, and can't be expected to remember ever silly Hobbit I come upon." Pain flared in my left arm as the big hands moved on.

I wince at the pain. "Well thats just rude."

He chuckles. "Well now, Max. You have got yourself in a mess. You have a broken leg, a broken arm thats also mauled and a nasty bump on your head. Whatever were you doing?"

"Walking . . . and fighting a Warg."

"Walking and Fighting indeed. Along with rolling, from the state of you."

"I tackled it down a hill," I mumbled crossly.

Gandalf moves to kneel by my head, and gentle brush my hair back from my face.

"Max, I'm going to have to set the bone before I can splint it," He said. "Which means forcing the bone back under the skin and moving it back into the right position. To do that will be very painful and I can't knock you out to do it as I don't want you going into shock from the trauma and be unable to wake you. Do you understand?"

I nod. "I understand."

"I'll try to be quick, but I'm not going to lie, this is going to be excruciatingly painful."

I nod again, as I would be astounded if it didn't. Gandalf then instructs Frodo to hold down my upper body and Merry and Pippin my other leg. I force myself to remain calm as Gandalf gets the supplies he needs to splint my leg. I'm grateful he gives me a roll of cloth to bite down on to muffle my screams and keep me from bitting my tongue, as I don't want my screams to alarm Pippin or any of the other hobbits.

"Alright," Gandalf said once he had all he needed. “You ready?â€

No, I think to myself, not even a little, but out loud I say. "Yes."

Gandalf picks up the limb by just below my knee and the other below the injury and starts forcing the bone back beneath the skin.

To be honest I don't know what was worse, the white hot agony shooting through my body or the sound of my bones grating against flesh and other bones. I bit the cloth in my mouth as hard as I could to stop myself from screaming but a few muffled screams squeezed out. Above me I could hear Frodo whisper soothingly to me in what I assume was elvish as he held me down. For some reason this surprised me as I didn't expect Frodo to be this comfortable with me, but I'm very grateful and reach up to hold him and bury my face in his shoulder, wishing the agony would stop. Frodo holds me back cupping the back of my head, still whispering soothing words to me.

Finally after several agonizing minutes the bone is set and Gandalf can stitch up the wound and splint my leg, where it throbs painfully with each beat of my heart. When he's done Frodo lets me go.

"Thank you," I say to him with a tried pained smile.

He smiles back. "Of course."

I see Gandalf moves to sit by my side again, with a smile on his face that says he's proud of me.

"You did good, Max."

I grimaced as my head was raised, increasing the painful throbbing but it was worth it when my mouth was filled with liquid.

"That's better. Try a sip of this."

I had not realized how parched my throat was until then and I swallowed greedily. It was not water but it seemed to spread tendrils of comfort through my body from my stomach. My lips tried to follow it when the flask was pulled away and Gandalf chuckled.

"Not too much of it. Here, have some water now." Another flask was put to my lips I accepted the water thankfully. "Good. Now let's get you home to a nice comfortable bed."

Bed. Oh now that sounded awesome. The reality, however, was not so awesome. Gandalf slipped an arm beneath my knees and another beneath my shoulders and gathered me to his chest as gently as he could but I cried out nonetheless at the jostling of my injuries.

"I am sorry, Max. I will be as gentle as I can."

For the first time, I noticed that I was wrapped warmly in Gandalf's mantle as the wizard drew it closer, pulling a fold up to shade my eyes from the watery sunlight. Once over the initial shock of movement I nestled against the warm chest, breathing in the comfortable scent of Gandalf, wood smoke, pipe weed, and herbs. I could hear the other Hobbits ask about me and Gandalf say something in response. I meanwhile let my eyes drift shut.

"No, no, Max. You cannot go to sleep yet. Stay awake."

I sighed and opened my eyes. Oh great more silly conversation.

The walk back to Buckland had been interminable. Gandalf had talked on and on and insisted that I answer him. The initial relief at being warm and not having to walks was soon buried by the agonizing jolt of Gandalf's every step.

I hear one of the Hobbits talking to me.

It's Frodo.

I listen closer; he sounds so much more substantial than I remember. But instead of hearing him through headphones or the TV, I actually hear him. His voice is not deep, but it is quiet and almost musical, and I appreciate that. I'm not one for needless conflict.

He tells me about some of his fathers adventure's, about his home, and some of his cousins misdeeds. I listen eagerly, paying more attention to the way his voice sounds than his actually words.

All I could see of the world, with the folds of the wizard's mantle close about my face was Gandalf's face and the trees and sky beyond, but I catch a glimpse of Frodo. Frodo is perhaps short, but he's just like an elf. It's so surreal, to see him right where I can touch him. I almost misperceive that perhaps I've met him before, and then I realize I haven't. I swallow slowly as I realize that I've found him attractive for a long time.

After a while the swaying movement and constant pain began to take its toll and I clenched shut my eyes and lips as I tried to bring my rebellious stomach under control. The wizard would not let me close my eyes however and kept demanding that I open them.

I began to feel angry. It would just serve Gandalf right if I threw up all over him. No. I would not be sick. I could control my body better than that. Right?

A wave of heat rolled through my body, followed by a shivering chill that started my teeth chattering again. The wizard's face filled with concern and he drew the mantle closer about his charge.

"Not long now, Max. Hold on just a little longer and then you can have a nice soft bed."

I swallowed hard as I felt a small hot surge foul tasting liquid come into my mouth up from my stomach. It burned but I managed to control it. Something in my face must have alerted Gandalf however and he stopped, looking down into my pain filled eyes.

"What is it, Max?"

Another wave of heat flooded my body and I swallowed again as I felt my stomach clench.

"I'm about to hurl everywhere," was all I had time to say before my stomach griped more firmly and I could no longer control it with a swallow. Forewarned, the wizard managed to put me down and I vomit violently into the ground, I was vaguely aware that someone was holding up my hair but I had no idea who it was.

When the retching had finished Gandalf resettled me and stepped away, before sitting on a fallen log and offering a swallow of cool water. From one of the many pockets hidden within the folds of his tattered robe the wizard produced a surprisingly clean handkerchief and blotted my face gently. I sighed in relief at the release from the feeling of nausea and the stillness, closing my eyes.

"Not yet, my young hobbit. Open your eyes." The instruction was accompanied by a very gentle shaking and I whimpered as pain flared in various places. I opened my eyes to find them captured by Gandalf's ice blue ones. The wizard seemed to look long and hard, moving his hand to shade first one then the other of my eyes. "I'm sorry, Max. You need to stay awake a little longer."

I nod. "I know . . . Its just hard."

"I know," came the soft reply and the handkerchief returned to dab the tears away. "But you have had a nasty knock on the head and you were very cold. It is not safe for you to sleep yet. I am sorry." He pulled me closer to him again and rose slowly. "Come on, now. Just a little further and you can have that bed."

"You keep saying that," I murmured. I felt Gandalf's chuckle through his chest.

"And I meant it," the wizard replied.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

I closed my eyes and felt myself drift away. I tried to fight it but it was like quick sand, the more I fought, the faster I sank into its grip. Gandalf's voice followed me for a short distance but eventually even he was left behind as I sank down and down and down . . .

~Gandalf~

Gandalf had tried everything to awaken Max and now there was a note of desperation in his voice as he continued to call out the hobbit's name. He had just found Middle Earth's last hope in defeating the darkness. He was not going to lose her again. He looked to Frodo Baggins and his two little cousins.

:We most hurry now, Frodo," He said, "Can you get you cousins to pick up speed, we must get Max help soon."
Frodo nods, understanding the severity of the situation. "Of course Gandalf."

With that they moved into a jog to get to Buckland as fast as possible. Gandalf felt guilty for pushing the young Hobbits so hard but it was imperative to get Max help as soon as possible. Once there they found his dear friend Bilbo fretting and worrying, pacing back and forth, among a group of Hobbits that were trying to console him, telling him that they were sure Frodo was fine and just got caught up in exploring and lost track of time.

"Who saw Frodo last?"

Bilbo wasn't the only parent that has near hysterics over there missing child. Saradoc and Esmeralda Brandybuck along with Paladin II and Eglantine Took were just as worried as Bilbo for their children.

"Has any one seen Merry?"

"Or Pippin! He went with Frodo and Merry!"

"Fatty did, didn't you, Fatty? Where was he?"

"I think they went to the Black gate."

"The Old Forest?"

"Fatty! What were you doing by the Old Forest!"

"Never mind that now!" Paladin said, "Did you see them enter?"

"I think so."

"Where's Frodo! I want my son back!" Bilbo looked near tears.

At the sight of his guardian, Frodo took off calling. "Da! Da!"

At the sound of his name being called, Bilbo jerked around, eyes searching frantically recognizing that voice and relief washed over his face as his eyes landed on his son.

"Frodo!:

Bilbo embraced the small Hobbit nearing crying in relief at finding his son. Merry and Pippin were also soon meet by their parents as well.

Gandalf approached the older hobbit. "Bilbo?"

"Gandalf!" the hobbit cried. “Thank goodness you found them. Who are you carrying?"

Gandalf gestured to the sleeping Max in his arms. "Dose anyone know whose child this is?"

Bilbo took a moment to study the sleeping girl, and shook his head sadly. "Sorry, no."

"Are you sure?" Gandalf pressed.

Bilbo nods. "She's a pretty little thing with red hair, thats not very common among Hobbits, I would of remembered her."

"Can't we take her in, Da?!" Frodo suddenly asked.

Gandalf and Bilbo looked at him in shock.

"What?" Bilbo asked.

"Can't she stay with us, Da?" Frodo asked. "She saved our lives!"

"Frodo," Bilbo said in a tone that begged his son to be reasonable. "I'm sure her parents are worried about her."

"Please, Da! Please! Please, she doesn't have a family and we have to repay her for her kindness!"

"That goes without being said," He looks to Gandalf. "I'll take the girl to the healers and will figure out what to do when she wakes up."

~Frodo~

I got up early well before my father and Gandalf wanting to catch a glimpse of the strange girl that had saved me and my cousins. For the past week I had been doing this against my Da's orders to stay away from her, but I couldn't help myself. Something about her called out to me.

I got dress in silence before creeping out of my room without a sound. I moved down the hall past my Da's and Gandalf's room where I could hear their soft breathing and snores telling me they were still asleep.

Finally I reached the room the girl, Max, was in. I took a deep breath and pushed open a partly-closed door with my hand. There in the bed was girl that had saved me and my cousins lives. At least half a dozen blankets had been arranged over her, perhaps more. Her broken left arm and right leg were propped up and she had a bandage around her head.

I walked quietly into the room and took a seat in the chair next to her bed, then took a good look at the sleeping girl, lying propped up on several pillows. I thought she was beautiful despite her injures.

She had long flowing fiery red hair that was spread across the pillow and a very pretty young face. Her skin had a light golden tinge to it showing off how clear and soft it was. Her lips reflected a gently red and slightly shone. Her eyes I remember were the most beautiful and like my eyes not something you see in Hobbits. They were dark turquoise.

Not knowing what else to do I sat by her side. I often read quietly to her but as the days continued and Max still remained in her coma I found myself growing bolder and bolder telling with her about whatever came to my mind, things I would never have said if she had been awake. Hoping she would be able to hear and not at the same time.

Today I got bold enough to reach out and hold her hand, surprised at how warm and soft it was, along with how it seemed to fit perfectly in mine.

"Hello, Max," I said softly. "I'm back just like I said I would. Things are the same around here. Pippin and Merry keep pestering Gandalf to do magic or light off his fireworks, I keep expecting him to turn them into a chicken or something just to teach them a lesson, but sadly nothing so far. My Da is still watching me like a hawk as thought he is worried I'll suddenly disappear again. I suppose its because he already lost my mother and he fears of losing me to," I pause a long moment thinking of my mother. "I wish I could have meet her . . . my Da tells me I'm a lot like her, and that I have her eyes . . . but he won't tell me what happened to her . . . just that she sailed away never to return," I tilt my head to Max. "Do you have parents Max? Did you run away from them? Or are they dead?"

As expected, Max doesn't respond.

"I wonder if they are looking for you as my Da was looking for me?" I pause as I consider Max's parents arriving to take her away and find I don't like that idea at all. "It may seem selfish of me, but I don't want you to leave Max, there's something about you . . . your different," my eyes widen and I quickly add. "Not in a bad way, its more of good different. Or perhaps interesting or intriguing would be a better word. I mean, I don't know many Hobbits that could of taken a Warg on and managed to kill it with naught but a stick, especially being a child at that. Your . . . special." I smile. "Yes thats the word! Your special Max."

Max makes no outward sign that she hears me.

I go to save more but I hear my Da has woken up and is moving about. I'm out of time.

"I have to go now, Max," I tell her, "But I'll see you tomorrow." Acting on a whim a lean forward to kiss her forehead, instantly making me blush and grateful she isn't awake. "Goodbye Max."

I quickly leave the room, missing the smile that briefly crosses Max's face before sleep takes her again.