(6)



Pippin and Sam were making good time to Rivendell. They had rode furiously for the last two days, and had just stopped twice.

Now they had stopped a third, to eat a little something before once again riding hard.

"How much farther do you expect Rivendell is?" asked Sam.

Pippin did some math in his head. "Today is the 25th of October. We should be there any time, now."

Sam sighed. "I only hope we're in time…"

"We will be! Now don't you start worrying again, Sam. Elrond's the best, and as I've said before, with any luck Gandalf will be there. Frodo's going to be okay," Pippin said assuredly, but he had his own doubts. He had a sinking feeling in his heart that all wasn't well, but he wasn't about to let Sam pick up on that doubt. Pippin didn't think he could deal with Sam worrying more than usual.

"Do you really believe that, Pippin?" Sam asked him, to be sure.

Pippin hesitated only a moment. "Yes, Sam, I do," he said, which was the truth, although he couldn't ignore his heart.

Sam studied him, trying to figure out whether Pippin was telling the truth. Finally, he said, "Mr. Pippin, if that's what you believe, then I suppose I shall as well."

Pippin gave a small smile. That's all he wanted.

He had become rather fond of Sam during their journey, more so than ever before, and he didn't like to see the Hobbit be so depressed all of the time.

"We'd best get a move on," said Pippin once they had finished their small meal. They packed their stuff, got on their ponies, and sped off into the distance.

Some time later that day, Pippin whooped, and Sam looked at him funny.

"Did something bite you, Mr. Pippin?" he asked.

"No, Sam! We're nearly there! I'm beginning to recognize things around here. Ride on, for it's not too far anymore!"

Pippin's encouraging words had a great effect on Sam, and he spurred his pony along, Pippin doing the same.



Legolas and Gimli sat together out on a terrace. They had seen Aragorn and Gandalf rush up to the house on their steeds, and now they were anxiously awaiting word about Frodo.

"I do hope Pippin and Sam arrive soon," said Legolas, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

"Do you believe Frodo's actually… going to?" Gimli asked him, a sad look in his eyes.

Legolas stopped a moment. DID he actually believe it? "I—I don't know, really. Elrond's skills are superb, they're the best of any Elf still living in Middle-earth, but… I just don't know. It all seems so helpless."

"You must stop thinking like that! You haven't been yourself for sometime, now. Trust Elrond."

Legolas smiled. "And all this from a Dwarf!"

"Hmph! We Dwarves can respect you Elves."

"Tell that to the rest of the Dwarves… they haven't gotten it yet."

Gimli sighed. "Even this can't stop my mind from thinking of Frodo…"

"I don't expect it shall ever leave our minds, until it's over…" Legolas stopped that sentence, not liking where it was going.

"Until it's over… I hope it doesn't end that way, Legolas."

"So do I, Gimli."



Merry sat straight up in his bed. Another nightmare had plagued his mind.

Every time he fell asleep, he dreamed of Frodo dying. It was always Frodo dying, never anything more. He just wanted it to stop, but he knew it wouldn't until…

Merry didn't like thinking about that outcome, either. Frodo was the strongest Hobbit he had ever met, and he wasn't going to start losing faith in Frodo now. Frodo had pulled through every time so far. So why should he even THINK about giving up faith now?

Merry had never once imagined earlier in his life that things would turn out like this. That he would grow older quicker than most Hobbits, because of friendship, that he would face so many challenges at one time, and overcome them. He had no idea that one of his best friends would be dying so young, and to think it all could have been avoided had it not been for him and his stupid idea to light a fire on Weathertop. How could he have been so foolish?

Merry got up and started to take a walk around the house. He knew eventually, he'd make his way back to Frodo's room, but he didn't want to face it just yet. He needed time, and he was going to give himself some time to think things through. His head was filled with all these thoughts, and he dearly wished he had Pippin there to talk to.



"Hold him still!" cried Elrond to Aragorn. Frodo was violently lashing around in bed, an effect of the poison in his system.

Bilbo hung in the background, too worried to be of much help at the moment. Gandalf was off getting some of Elrond's supplies, and Bilbo was counting the seconds it was taking Gandalf.

He was overly anxious, he knew it. He had total faith in Elrond, yet… what if that wasn't enough? Bilbo shuddered.

'I'm not losing him, silly!' he told himself, trying his hardest to believe it. It wasn't working, though. And Bilbo was angry with himself that he had lost all faith.

Aragorn held Frodo to the bed tightly. He watched Elrond pour something down Frodo's mouth. Frodo coughed, and then the shaking lessened just a bit.

"His heart is beating abnormally," Elrond said. "GANDALF!" he yelled, even loud for an Elf, and Elves were VERY loud yellers.

Seconds later, Gandalf ran into the room with a mixture of some sort. He handed it swiftly to Elrond, who put it down Frodo's mouth as well.

"What is that for?" asked Aragorn.

"We're trying to flush the poison out," was all Elrond said before Frodo let out a strangled yelp.

Aragorn loosened his grip on Frodo as Frodo stopped his shaking once more. Frodo was whimpering in pain.

Elrond stood up swiftly. "Gandalf, we must find Legolas, Gimli, and Merry quickly. Aragorn, STAY HERE!" Gandalf and Elrond ran from the room.

Bilbo came over to Aragorn's side.

"He's not going to make it, is he? This is the end."

Aragorn knew in his heart that that was the reason Gandalf and Elrond had left to go get Legolas, Gimli, and Merry. He didn't want to say that to Bilbo, but Bilbo already knew.

"I'm afraid so," said Aragorn quietly. It was just tearing him up inside. To think that this all could have been prevented by just cleaning out the wound a bit better…

Merry, at that moment, ran into the room. He saw the look in Aragorn and Bilbo's face, and he knew immediately. He ran to the bedside, opposite of Aragorn and Bilbo, and wept.

Aragorn gathered Frodo up in his arms, and Merry and Bilbo each held onto a hand.

They didn't say anything to one another, not until Legolas and Gimli burst into the room, followed by Gandalf and Aragorn.

"This is it, isn't it?" Legolas asked. No one answered, for they all knew the answer to his question. Yes, it was.

They gathered around his bedside. They watched as Frodo's breathing became much more labored. Watched, as his face became deathly pale. Watched as he took a last, harsh breath, and fell limp in Aragorn's arms.

Frodo Baggins was dead.



Pippin and Sam raced their ponies up to the Last Homely House. To their surprise, Gandalf was standing there, apparently waiting for them.

"Gandalf!" cried Sam, jumping off his pony and running up to Gandalf. Pippin did the same, but stopped short at the look on Gandalf's face.

He felt himself go weak. "Gandalf, no…"

Gandalf nodded gravely. "I'm so sorry, Pippin, Sam. It was only a few minutes ago…" he trailed off. Grief was heavy in his voice, and he could bear to say no more.

"NO!" Sam cried out. "It can't be true!"

Gandalf laid a hand on his shoulder. "Samwise, I'm afraid so…"

"NO!" Sam cried, flinging off Gandalf's hand and running into the house.

Pippin sank to the ground. "We were too late," he said, the realization sinking in. "We were too late…"





TBC



(I expect to be killed repeatedly about now. I'm not apologizing, though.)