A/N Short chapter, but I wanted to explain some things and update for once.

Inside a dream, Frodo stirred in his sleep. With a start quicker than lightning itself, Frodo sat up, clutching his chest. When he finally figured out he was in Rivendell, he breathed and felt his sweaty forehead. In the bed next to him, Sam rolled over and opened his eyes. Seeing that Frodo was sitting of in bed, he sat up himself.

            "Is there something wrong, Mr. Frodo sir?" Sam asked.

            Frodo tried to recall. It was a dream. A strange dream, actually, one of odd viewpoint. He was in the midst of a battle of some sort, standing up against a wall. It was familiar, almost a memory. He was inside someone else's memory, for the thoughts were not his. Some of the thoughts he would never have even dared thought himself. Besides, he clutched in his hand a sword that was not Sting.

            It was a terrifying dream.

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Flashback

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            I clutched in my hands my sword, my one protection and weapon in this world of death and destruction. Dead bodies lay staggered about everywhere. Men and orcs falling to their death with a stranging yell all over the place. Blood flooded the ground so you could not see if you were standing on dirt or a dead body. All around the screams screech and burn your ears. I felt like a ghost, the only one alive. I didn't know how many of my companions were dead.

            This was a battle field.

            I scowled at the first free orc I saw. He caught my eye as I caught his. I charged to him with all my strength and hurled my sword to his neck. But he was no stronger than I. He deflected me with a blow to the shoulder, and I was knocked against another body, a living one.

            I hit dirt. No, not dirt. A body. A dead body, of a man, whom I saw to be the man called Enchilion with the elves. I mourned sadly yet quickly for the loss of such a brave man. But I could not mourn as quickly as I would have liked, for I noticed blood dripping down my chest that was mine. Half my shoulder had been periced in such a quick manner the fierce adrenline in my senses kept me from picking it up. I could not hold my sword. I picked it up in my other hand but I could not handing in as well. I had let my companions down. I closed my eyes like the coward I am, knowing that an orc would come along any second and destroy the rest of me.

            And I was right, for the next moment, a tall orc with blood red eyes and teeth as brown as the trunk of a tree. He kicked me and cackled. He lifted his sword into the air and hurled it down into my chest, straight into my heart, and out the other side. I cried out in pain and a head turned my way.

            It was a beutiful head. Long flowing blond hair and bright green eyes with a spark of life in them. And elven face. But the face was hidden by a mass of dirt and specks of blood.  He looked at me and his face fell to fear and sorrow.

            "No!" He cried and rushed forward to the orc who befell me. With one swift movement he loaded his bow and show directly in the forehead.

            "Legolas, we must retreat!" Came another cry, as I did my best to stay alive for one last moment. The pain was searing through my veins, my heart was slowly stopping.

            The blond elf began to run, but the orcs refused to leave the battle without a hostage. Six orcs at once seized the now elf, as he struggled and fought. He screamed and did his best to get free, but the orcs held him tight and one hit him on the head, forcing him to lay quiet. The man who had shouted before, who oddly was barely hurt, was now holding back a dwarf in tears.

            "I won't lose another Gimli! Come, you are hurt!" The dwarf reluctantly stopped, but raised his ax into the air.

            "I will avenge you, elf! I swear it!"

            Those were the last words I heard. My heart stopped beating, and darkness came upon me.

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            "Mr. Frodo!" Sam was out of bed, shaking Frodo out of a trance. Frodo stirred. "Are you all right?"

            "Yes." Frodo lied.

            Now he understood. Now he understood why Legolas was captured. Now he understood why Aragorn could not relive that memory. Now he understood why Gimli had wept at the mention of Legolas. Now he understood why they had wanted to go after him so much.

            "Yes, I'm perfectly all right Sam."