Well, I've got Apacala worked out, thank le bon Dieu…I've been browsing Agatha Christies again, but fear not, good fans, this is not a mystery! Mainecoon doesn't like detective novels…though I do…*sulks*

Sam's chance…hang on, Sam-lovers! (that actually includes me…what Frodo doesn't like Sam?) I changed the format for a short time, because I got bored. Sorry if it confuses you at all.

Disclaimer: I own Apacala, but I don't own Maiar in general…all the rest of the characters (except Elen, of course) belong to Tolkien, God bless his soul [and curse my moronic computer for not having 'Tolkien' in spell-check!!!].

***

"Do you have to go?"

Galadriel's impassive expression had given way to a look of wistfulness. Gandalf smiled sadly.

"I'm afraid so. Apacala won't come to us, you know."

"We shall eagerly await your return, Mithrandir," said Elrond quietly. "Namárië."

With a wave, the wizard turned and started off upon the forest road, leaning heavily on his staff. The hazy light of dawn cast a rosy glow on both him and the elves watching his departure.

"I hope he finds her in time," murmured Galadriel. Elrond laid a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"He will, I'm sure. Has Mithrandir ever let us down before?"

"He once drove off a hobbit with his gloominess."

"Oh, rubbish!"

***

*He is coming to me…*

Her eyes, vivid turquoise orbs, lit up with anticipation.

*Why would he come…unless it were to…*

Musing to herself, she enrobed herself in an appropriate visage.

*Has he forgotten? It has been three ages…*

*Does he still…?*

***

"Mr. Frodo?"

"I'm here, Sam."

"I'm scared, master."

"I know. So am I."

"D'you think…?"

"Don't worry, dear Sam. He'll come back in time."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I am of anything."

"…Don't let me go, Mr. Frodo…"

"I won't, I swear it. Hold on…"

***

*Mithrandir…*

Gandalf whirled around, then regretted it. "Curse these old bones. Who is it?"

*Gandalf…*

"Who's calling?"

*They give you such odd names, old Maia.*

The wizard started. "Apacala!"

*Exactly.*

The forest seemed to darken a shade. Gandalf frowned. "Where are you?"

*My, my, you've been trapped in that old man's body too long.*

"Oh, so you won't show yourself?"

*If you wish me to.*

A shadowy form appeared before him.

"All the way, please."

*Very well.*

Gandalf nearly jumped in surprise. "I say! You've changed your visage quite a bit since I left!"

*Do you like it?* purred the Maia, smiling seductively. Her humanlike form was that of a young woman…a very attractive young woman…in somewhat less clothing than custom demands. *You would have three ages ago.*

Gandalf blinked, unable to tear his eyes away from her. "Please, Apacala, I have business with you. A slightly less…er… distracting image, please."

*Oh, fine! Fusspot!* In a twinkling, the figure was modestly robed in white. *There! Now, what have you to say?*

"It's about the curse."

Apacala looked crestfallen. *Is that all?*

"What did you want me to say?"

She waved her hand dismissively. *What about the curse?*

"I want it lifted," said Gandalf firmly. "Now."

*Lifted? Now?* She laughed mockingly. *Why such demands, Elf-friend?*

Before he could reply, Gandalf found himself being lifted into the air. "What the…?!"

*Let us go somewhere else, shall we?* cooed Apacala. *We haven't talked in ages!*

***

"Elen."

The elf looked up at Galadriel, sadness heavy in her eyes.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Call me the instant Mithrandir returns."

"Yes, my lady. Where will you be?"

"Behind the hill. I need to think."

"All right, then." She added hastily, "My lady."

"Thank you."

***

"Sam?"

Silence.

"Are you all right?"

Silence.

"Sam!"

Silence.

"ELROND!!!"

***

*Tea or wine?*

"Tea. Just for the record, this is absolutely absurd."

*I know. Two sugars or one?*

Gandalf shook his head bemusedly. He had been carried away to what appeared to be a rather elaborate tree house, evidently where Apacala lived, and set down on a large white couch. Apacala was currently fussing about with an ornate silver teapot.

"It doesn't matter. Listen, Apacala, we have to talk!"

*I know.* She brought over a tray with two teacups on it. *But pleasure before business.*

"Rubbish."

She raised her finely-penciled eyebrows. *Touchy, aren't we? You have been away too long.*

"Says you." Gandalf refused to take his teacup. "I don't have time for this, Apa!"

*Ooh, you called me Apa!* she squeaked, nearly dropping the tray in delight. The wizard was nearly ready to tear his hair out.

"Apacala Shadow-chaser, I might be forced to hurt you if you don't stop!"

*Oh, all right.* She slid onto the couch besides him, depositing the tray onto the floor. *What did you want to say? Something about the curse?*

"Yes. You have to lift it. Right now."

Her slender arm crept around his shoulders. *Why, Gandalf?*

He shrugged her off. "One of my friends is dying because of it."

*Friends?* She frowned. *Really? Since they wouldn't let me curse everyone, only a few mortals ever get it. Are you sure?*

"Of course I'm sure!" he snapped. "It's the only diagnosis that works!" As an afterthought, he added, "Who's 'they?' "

*You know. The ones in charge.*

"Ah." He smiled faintly. "The Valar are infinitely wise."

*If you say so…* Her hand rested lightly on Gandalf's sleeve as she leaned closer to him. *What sort of friend?*

"A hobbit," said the wizard, looking much aggravated. "I'm rather fond of him, and of his master. Now, will you please lift the curse?"

*Perhaps.* She slid closer. *What would you do to earn his life?*

Gandalf scowled. "What do you want?" he said warily.

*One thing.* She leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The wizard's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Y-y-you're kidding, r-right?" he stuttered. Apacala grinned at his shock.

*Come now, there are worse things I could ask.*

"Name them – no, don't." Gandalf sighed. "All right, but only because it's for Samwise."

*Come on. Maia form, now.*

"Only for five minutes."

*No holds barred for the kiss.*

"You disgust me, Apacala!"

*Prude. Hurry now.*

"By the Valar!" the wizard swore as he began to change form. "That hobbit had better be grateful!"

***

It was nearing sunset. Elen leaned forward and squinted at the figure coming down the forest road.

"My lady! My lady!" she cried. "It's Mithrandir!"

Galadriel, who had long since relocated to the front of Elrond's house, looked up, catching her breath. Sure enough, there was the wizard, hobbling down the path with an odd look on his face.

"Hail, Mithrandir!" she called, standing up and waving. "What cheer?"

Gandalf refused to answer until he had reached the house. As he passed Galadriel, he muttered angrily, "I loathe Apacala."

The Morning Star raised her eyebrows in silent question, but the wizard was in no mood to answer. He burst into the house and stomped up the stairs. Before he reached the bedroom door, however, Elrond opened it and stepped out. He looked startled to see the wizard, but said nothing.

"Do you have any idea what I had to do?" fumed Gandalf. "I had to change form and kiss her. That was just sickening. I am never, ever–" He stopped short, noticing the hollow look in the Loremaster's face. "What?"

The elf silently beckoned him up. Gandalf, mystified, followed him into the bedroom.

Frodo was kneeling on the bed, cradling Sam tenderly and sobbing. The wizard gasped; Frodo looked up, his azure eyes brimming with tears.

"You're too late," he said softly. "He's dead."

***

*pulling out hanky and sobbing into it* I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Look, see, I've even upset myself! *sniff* Give me one chapter to sort this out, okay? And no Sam-lovers flame me, please!!! *wanders off, whimpering*