Disclaimer: I own nothing! :)
A/N: Thank you all for reviewing. :) Sorry it's taken me so long to add another chapter! I got sidetracked and I've also been working on my other fic called "September". The first chapter is up now. :) Please read it and let me know what you think. The main characters are Frodo and Bilbo. It's set in the Shire, in September, near Frodo's 23rd birthday. Most of it takes place in Bag End.
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The wizard Gandalf sat in a chair by Frodo's bed, observing the restless hobbit. He watched as Sam kept a silent vigil by his Master, never leaving Frodo's side.
The hobbits had been in Rivendell for three day's, and Frodo had shown little or no sign of improvement. Elrond had used all of the knowledge of healing that he possessed, but to no avail. Frodo had remained in the same lifeless state that he had arrived in, occasionally tossing in his sleep- if sleep was what it could be called; and whimpering or mumbling thoughts subconsciously.
"Good afternoon, Lord Elrond," Gandalf spoke, upon seeing the Elf-lord enter the room almost silently, closing the door behind him. "Have you made a decision yet?" the wizard looked appealingly in Elrond's direction.
"I have." The elf sighed wearily, "You're right, Gandalf. I thought it possible the first day after the halfling's arrival, though I have since had doubts... Nonetheless, it is worth a try." He paused, "…Nothing else is working. It may be the only way we can save Frodo."
Gandalf nodded, "Yes, my friend, you have tried everything within your power; the only other option is to see if there is indeed a piece of the blade embedded in his shoulder." The wizard stated.
"Yes," Elrond replied, "I have spoken with Aragorn at length on the matter and he confirmed that the blade was indeed notched, and clearly there is a chance that a piece remains buried within Frodo's body." Elrond finished, walking over to Frodo's bed, hoping to find sign's of improvement.
The elf frowned upon examination of the hobbit's shoulder and his low body temperature. It was no good, Frodo's condition was deteriorating and there was nothing else left that could be done. Though, Elrond regretted having to resort to these measures.
"What are you going to do to my Master, sir?" Sam spoke up, almost as if he could read Elrond's thoughts; he had been listening to the conversation, waiting for the elf and wizard to finish before he voiced his opinion on the matter at hand. "Whatever it is, I'm not leavin' him."
Elrond couldn't help but smile at the hobbit. Such a determined little folk, they were! "Samwise, you may remain with your Master, if you wish." Elrond looked gravely at the young gardener, "Only you though. And only because I realize now how close you are to him, and it may bring him comfort just having you near." The elf smiled. "Now, I must be off. I've things to prepare before we can continue in this endeavor." Elrond turned around elegantly, heading towards the door.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but you never did answer my question proper." Sam pointed out, jumping down from Frodo's bed. He hadn't *asked* to stay with his Master, he was planning on doing that regardless. He wanted to know exactly what was going to be done.
Elrond paused at the door and turned around to face the small hobbit that stood before him. He felt as though he ought to be honest with Sam, "I have come to believe that a piece of the Morgul Blade remains buried in your Master's shoulder, Samwise." The elf held Sam's gaze as he continued speaking, "His condition is not improving. As you know, I have done everything I can to help Frodo." Elrond paused, allowing time for this news to sink in. "I must reopen his wound, and search for a fragment of the blade. And if this does not work then there may be nothing more that I can do for him." He finished curtly, hoping to convey the gravity of the situation to Sam.
The hobbit paled a bit at this, swallowing hard, he answered "S- so, you mean to… cut my Master's shoulder, and… there's still a piece of that knife inside of him?" Sam looked shocked. "Isn't there another way?" he cried.
"It is the only way." Elrond replied, turning to leave once more.
Sam stood speechless as he watched the elf slip gracefully through the door, closing it quietly behind him.
"Samwise…" Sam heard a kind voice behind him. It was Gandalf. "Sam, you must trust Elrond's healing abilities." The wizard nodded knowingly, "He knows what is best for Frodo." Gandalf continued, "I support his decision, it is very likely that there is a fragment of the blade in Frodo's shoulder. It must be removed before it pierces his heart."
Sam climbed back up onto his Master's bed, bowing his head so Gandalf wouldn't see him crying. "I- I know, Mister Gandalf, it's just that… I don't want anything to happen to my Master." Sam said quietly, "What if Elrond is too late? What if the Wraith's blade has already pierced Mister Frodo's heart?" Sam looked up, tears streaking his rosy cheeks.
Gandalf shifted in his chair, "No, I do not think that has happened yet, Sam. Elrond knows what he is doing. Though, the longer we wait the more difficult it will be for everyone involved."
Sam nodded; he knew the wizard was right. "Will it hurt him much, Mister Gandalf?" the hobbit questioned, looking pleadingly into Gandalf's eyes.
The wizard shook his head and focused his eyes on a point somewhere on the other side of the room, "Sam, you are well aware, as are we all, that he is suffering even now. You were with him on the journey from Weathertop and you saw what he went through." Gandalf shot Sam a glance, knowing that the hobbit knew he was right, "I do not think that he will feel much, or anything. I cannot be sure though. He is unconscious, after all. And aside from that, it is a small price to pay in order to end the pain and darkness that consumes him now."
Sam nodded slowly, realizing that Gandalf was right. He reached a small hand down and touched his Master's brow, brushing wisps of Frodo's hair out of his eyes.
"I can't bear the thought of losing you, Master." Sam spoke gently as he watched his master's still form.
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Frodo opened his eyes slowly. He found himself staring up at the familiar rafters in his old room at Bag End. The sunlight streamed in through his window, illuminating the pleasant room.
He sat up slowly, trying to get his bearings. "What happened?" Frodo wondered to himself. Then his heart twisted as he remembered the events of the past weeks. The last thing he remembered was the Shadows closing in on him… but they had been in the shape of his friends. Strider had been among them. Had that part been real at all? Hadn't it been a dream? If the whole journey, and everything about the Ring, had been a dream, then how could he remember Strider so vividly? He lifted his right hand, testing all of his fingers. No pain in them, and the skin was warm to the touch. It was as if the accident at Weathertop had never happened at all. Maybe it *had* all been a dream. But no… the events of the journey were painfully clear in Frodo's mind.
The thoughts troubled Frodo, but he decided to put them aside for the time being. He swung his legs over the bed, touching the floor. It felt good to feel the familiar old rug beneath his toes, and the soft warm bedclothes that he had always worn.
Frodo yawned, scratching his head. He looked around for something to wear. It was then that he realized something was definitely wrong. He remembered that he had sold Bag End before he left the Shire… what was he doing back there now? "If I am indeed home, then why am I here, in Bag End?" he wondered. Suddenly he became aware of someone singing, it came from outside, in the hall. "It can't be…" Frodo thought aloud, "Uncle Bilbo?" he called. "Is that you?"
The door to his room creaked open, and Bilbo entered, smiling at his nephew. "Hello Frodo! My dear lad, I'm so glad to see you awake and well!" Bilbo spoke cheerily.
Frodo sat back down on the bed, feeling faint. "Wh- What happened? Bilbo?" he spoke shakily. "What are you doing here? Y- You left s- seventeen years ago…"
"Oh?" Bilbo questioned, "Oh, yes… I did, didn't I!" he continued. "Frodo I've been worried sick about you. We all have… haven't we?" he added, changing the subject.
"We?" Frodo asked hesitantly.
"Yes, of course, all of us. We've been waiting for you to wake." Bilbo rambled, "You've been ill for quite some time, Frodo. We did everything we could but we almost had to give up on you!" The older hobbit finished, moving over to where Frodo sat, placing a gentle hand on the younger hobbits shoulder.
Frodo remained seated where he was, fear creeping up on him again just as it had before, in his dream. "Bilbo… Whom are you talking about?" Frodo questioned anxiously.
"Frodo, don't tell me you have forgotten!" Bilbo chuckled nervously, "Your friends, of course. Who else?" his smile faded, "Are you feeling well, Frodo? Should I send for the healer?" he questioned, placing a hand on Frodo's forehead.
"What friends? Merry and Pippin? Where's Sam?" the younger hobbit persisted, ignoring his uncles question.
"All of them Frodo." Bilbo spoke quietly, the tone of his voice darkening.
Frodo looked past his uncle to the doorway, all of his friends stood waiting, strange smiles on their unnaturally pale faces. He felt the sudden urge to run as they started advancing towards him, Bilbo leading them. He crawled as far back as he could, to the edge of his bed, and then fell on the floor. They continued moving forward, Frodo clawed his way under the bed, seeking refuge from this nightmare that he felt sure had become a reality.
He felt a cold hand grasp him firmly, pulling him forcefully from beneath the bed. It dragged him to his feet, and stood watching him with ravenous eyes as its foul claws reached for his throat. The hand reached for what hung on the chain around the hobbits small neck.
The others moved to stand behind Frodo; he could feel their moist breath on the back of his neck. Smell the foul odor as they talked among themselves; they smelled of death. Bag End smelled of death.
"This is not Bag End!" Frodo's mind screamed. "I sold Bag End before I even left the Shire…" he knew it was true, but realizing that made what was happening now even scarier.
He felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and he felt himself falling. Falling to the cold, hard floor. He heard them laughing at him, tears welled up in his eyes as he felt a warm substance trickling down the back of his neck. He curled up on the floor, trying to escape their cruel gazes. He felt them begin to kick him; and the leader, who had appeared in the form of his dear uncle, groped at his neck with cold claw-like hands. A particularly hard blow was dealt to his side; he heard a horrible cracking noise as the world went dark.
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"Keep him still, Sam!" Elrond ordered. The Elf-lord had begun to slice into deeper layers of Frodo's skin, and the hobbit jerked away, his breathes quickened as an anguished cry escaped his pale lips. Though the knife Elrond used was extremely sharp, and his hand was steady, there was some pain that Frodo could not be spared.
Sam didn't speak; he couldn't if he had wanted to, the whole situation had shocked him into a silent state. He pressed down harder on Frodo's good shoulder, rubbing the cold little hand soothingly as he strained to hold his Master still while Elrond worked.
At that moment, Gandalf returned from an errand that the elf had sent him on. "Elrond, here is the ointment you requested." The wizard spoke, as he came to sit on the side of the bed opposite the Elf-lord.
"Thank you. Now, if you will, please rub it around the area where I am working. It should ease his pain and calm his nerves, allowing me to work faster and more efficiently."
Gandalf nodded, dipping his finger into the mixture and rubbing it carefully on the outside of Frodo's freshly reopened wound.
The hobbit struggled for a few more moments under the wizard's gentle touch before finally calming down and resting once more.
Sam glanced down at his Master's shoulder, regretting it as he saw the bloody opening that Elrond was working over. He winced inwardly at the sight of so much blood smeared on the towels and bedclothes. Sam closed his eyes against the frightening sight, and tried not to allow his tears to fall.
Gandalf and Sam sat with Frodo on into the evening as Elrond worked quickly, trying to locate the splinter. Gandalf had his own fears about this venture: Frodo shouldn't lose so much blood in his weakened state… but he knew in the back of his mind that it couldn't be helped. Either Frodo had to risk the chance of dying from loss of blood or possible infection, or he would perish when the Wraith's blade finally did pierce his heart. And in truth, Frodo hadn't lost all that much blood, but he was already so weak that any loss was considered a great one.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! Read and review please! :) And don't forget to check out "September".
A/N: Thank you all for reviewing. :) Sorry it's taken me so long to add another chapter! I got sidetracked and I've also been working on my other fic called "September". The first chapter is up now. :) Please read it and let me know what you think. The main characters are Frodo and Bilbo. It's set in the Shire, in September, near Frodo's 23rd birthday. Most of it takes place in Bag End.
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The wizard Gandalf sat in a chair by Frodo's bed, observing the restless hobbit. He watched as Sam kept a silent vigil by his Master, never leaving Frodo's side.
The hobbits had been in Rivendell for three day's, and Frodo had shown little or no sign of improvement. Elrond had used all of the knowledge of healing that he possessed, but to no avail. Frodo had remained in the same lifeless state that he had arrived in, occasionally tossing in his sleep- if sleep was what it could be called; and whimpering or mumbling thoughts subconsciously.
"Good afternoon, Lord Elrond," Gandalf spoke, upon seeing the Elf-lord enter the room almost silently, closing the door behind him. "Have you made a decision yet?" the wizard looked appealingly in Elrond's direction.
"I have." The elf sighed wearily, "You're right, Gandalf. I thought it possible the first day after the halfling's arrival, though I have since had doubts... Nonetheless, it is worth a try." He paused, "…Nothing else is working. It may be the only way we can save Frodo."
Gandalf nodded, "Yes, my friend, you have tried everything within your power; the only other option is to see if there is indeed a piece of the blade embedded in his shoulder." The wizard stated.
"Yes," Elrond replied, "I have spoken with Aragorn at length on the matter and he confirmed that the blade was indeed notched, and clearly there is a chance that a piece remains buried within Frodo's body." Elrond finished, walking over to Frodo's bed, hoping to find sign's of improvement.
The elf frowned upon examination of the hobbit's shoulder and his low body temperature. It was no good, Frodo's condition was deteriorating and there was nothing else left that could be done. Though, Elrond regretted having to resort to these measures.
"What are you going to do to my Master, sir?" Sam spoke up, almost as if he could read Elrond's thoughts; he had been listening to the conversation, waiting for the elf and wizard to finish before he voiced his opinion on the matter at hand. "Whatever it is, I'm not leavin' him."
Elrond couldn't help but smile at the hobbit. Such a determined little folk, they were! "Samwise, you may remain with your Master, if you wish." Elrond looked gravely at the young gardener, "Only you though. And only because I realize now how close you are to him, and it may bring him comfort just having you near." The elf smiled. "Now, I must be off. I've things to prepare before we can continue in this endeavor." Elrond turned around elegantly, heading towards the door.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but you never did answer my question proper." Sam pointed out, jumping down from Frodo's bed. He hadn't *asked* to stay with his Master, he was planning on doing that regardless. He wanted to know exactly what was going to be done.
Elrond paused at the door and turned around to face the small hobbit that stood before him. He felt as though he ought to be honest with Sam, "I have come to believe that a piece of the Morgul Blade remains buried in your Master's shoulder, Samwise." The elf held Sam's gaze as he continued speaking, "His condition is not improving. As you know, I have done everything I can to help Frodo." Elrond paused, allowing time for this news to sink in. "I must reopen his wound, and search for a fragment of the blade. And if this does not work then there may be nothing more that I can do for him." He finished curtly, hoping to convey the gravity of the situation to Sam.
The hobbit paled a bit at this, swallowing hard, he answered "S- so, you mean to… cut my Master's shoulder, and… there's still a piece of that knife inside of him?" Sam looked shocked. "Isn't there another way?" he cried.
"It is the only way." Elrond replied, turning to leave once more.
Sam stood speechless as he watched the elf slip gracefully through the door, closing it quietly behind him.
"Samwise…" Sam heard a kind voice behind him. It was Gandalf. "Sam, you must trust Elrond's healing abilities." The wizard nodded knowingly, "He knows what is best for Frodo." Gandalf continued, "I support his decision, it is very likely that there is a fragment of the blade in Frodo's shoulder. It must be removed before it pierces his heart."
Sam climbed back up onto his Master's bed, bowing his head so Gandalf wouldn't see him crying. "I- I know, Mister Gandalf, it's just that… I don't want anything to happen to my Master." Sam said quietly, "What if Elrond is too late? What if the Wraith's blade has already pierced Mister Frodo's heart?" Sam looked up, tears streaking his rosy cheeks.
Gandalf shifted in his chair, "No, I do not think that has happened yet, Sam. Elrond knows what he is doing. Though, the longer we wait the more difficult it will be for everyone involved."
Sam nodded; he knew the wizard was right. "Will it hurt him much, Mister Gandalf?" the hobbit questioned, looking pleadingly into Gandalf's eyes.
The wizard shook his head and focused his eyes on a point somewhere on the other side of the room, "Sam, you are well aware, as are we all, that he is suffering even now. You were with him on the journey from Weathertop and you saw what he went through." Gandalf shot Sam a glance, knowing that the hobbit knew he was right, "I do not think that he will feel much, or anything. I cannot be sure though. He is unconscious, after all. And aside from that, it is a small price to pay in order to end the pain and darkness that consumes him now."
Sam nodded slowly, realizing that Gandalf was right. He reached a small hand down and touched his Master's brow, brushing wisps of Frodo's hair out of his eyes.
"I can't bear the thought of losing you, Master." Sam spoke gently as he watched his master's still form.
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Frodo opened his eyes slowly. He found himself staring up at the familiar rafters in his old room at Bag End. The sunlight streamed in through his window, illuminating the pleasant room.
He sat up slowly, trying to get his bearings. "What happened?" Frodo wondered to himself. Then his heart twisted as he remembered the events of the past weeks. The last thing he remembered was the Shadows closing in on him… but they had been in the shape of his friends. Strider had been among them. Had that part been real at all? Hadn't it been a dream? If the whole journey, and everything about the Ring, had been a dream, then how could he remember Strider so vividly? He lifted his right hand, testing all of his fingers. No pain in them, and the skin was warm to the touch. It was as if the accident at Weathertop had never happened at all. Maybe it *had* all been a dream. But no… the events of the journey were painfully clear in Frodo's mind.
The thoughts troubled Frodo, but he decided to put them aside for the time being. He swung his legs over the bed, touching the floor. It felt good to feel the familiar old rug beneath his toes, and the soft warm bedclothes that he had always worn.
Frodo yawned, scratching his head. He looked around for something to wear. It was then that he realized something was definitely wrong. He remembered that he had sold Bag End before he left the Shire… what was he doing back there now? "If I am indeed home, then why am I here, in Bag End?" he wondered. Suddenly he became aware of someone singing, it came from outside, in the hall. "It can't be…" Frodo thought aloud, "Uncle Bilbo?" he called. "Is that you?"
The door to his room creaked open, and Bilbo entered, smiling at his nephew. "Hello Frodo! My dear lad, I'm so glad to see you awake and well!" Bilbo spoke cheerily.
Frodo sat back down on the bed, feeling faint. "Wh- What happened? Bilbo?" he spoke shakily. "What are you doing here? Y- You left s- seventeen years ago…"
"Oh?" Bilbo questioned, "Oh, yes… I did, didn't I!" he continued. "Frodo I've been worried sick about you. We all have… haven't we?" he added, changing the subject.
"We?" Frodo asked hesitantly.
"Yes, of course, all of us. We've been waiting for you to wake." Bilbo rambled, "You've been ill for quite some time, Frodo. We did everything we could but we almost had to give up on you!" The older hobbit finished, moving over to where Frodo sat, placing a gentle hand on the younger hobbits shoulder.
Frodo remained seated where he was, fear creeping up on him again just as it had before, in his dream. "Bilbo… Whom are you talking about?" Frodo questioned anxiously.
"Frodo, don't tell me you have forgotten!" Bilbo chuckled nervously, "Your friends, of course. Who else?" his smile faded, "Are you feeling well, Frodo? Should I send for the healer?" he questioned, placing a hand on Frodo's forehead.
"What friends? Merry and Pippin? Where's Sam?" the younger hobbit persisted, ignoring his uncles question.
"All of them Frodo." Bilbo spoke quietly, the tone of his voice darkening.
Frodo looked past his uncle to the doorway, all of his friends stood waiting, strange smiles on their unnaturally pale faces. He felt the sudden urge to run as they started advancing towards him, Bilbo leading them. He crawled as far back as he could, to the edge of his bed, and then fell on the floor. They continued moving forward, Frodo clawed his way under the bed, seeking refuge from this nightmare that he felt sure had become a reality.
He felt a cold hand grasp him firmly, pulling him forcefully from beneath the bed. It dragged him to his feet, and stood watching him with ravenous eyes as its foul claws reached for his throat. The hand reached for what hung on the chain around the hobbits small neck.
The others moved to stand behind Frodo; he could feel their moist breath on the back of his neck. Smell the foul odor as they talked among themselves; they smelled of death. Bag End smelled of death.
"This is not Bag End!" Frodo's mind screamed. "I sold Bag End before I even left the Shire…" he knew it was true, but realizing that made what was happening now even scarier.
He felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and he felt himself falling. Falling to the cold, hard floor. He heard them laughing at him, tears welled up in his eyes as he felt a warm substance trickling down the back of his neck. He curled up on the floor, trying to escape their cruel gazes. He felt them begin to kick him; and the leader, who had appeared in the form of his dear uncle, groped at his neck with cold claw-like hands. A particularly hard blow was dealt to his side; he heard a horrible cracking noise as the world went dark.
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"Keep him still, Sam!" Elrond ordered. The Elf-lord had begun to slice into deeper layers of Frodo's skin, and the hobbit jerked away, his breathes quickened as an anguished cry escaped his pale lips. Though the knife Elrond used was extremely sharp, and his hand was steady, there was some pain that Frodo could not be spared.
Sam didn't speak; he couldn't if he had wanted to, the whole situation had shocked him into a silent state. He pressed down harder on Frodo's good shoulder, rubbing the cold little hand soothingly as he strained to hold his Master still while Elrond worked.
At that moment, Gandalf returned from an errand that the elf had sent him on. "Elrond, here is the ointment you requested." The wizard spoke, as he came to sit on the side of the bed opposite the Elf-lord.
"Thank you. Now, if you will, please rub it around the area where I am working. It should ease his pain and calm his nerves, allowing me to work faster and more efficiently."
Gandalf nodded, dipping his finger into the mixture and rubbing it carefully on the outside of Frodo's freshly reopened wound.
The hobbit struggled for a few more moments under the wizard's gentle touch before finally calming down and resting once more.
Sam glanced down at his Master's shoulder, regretting it as he saw the bloody opening that Elrond was working over. He winced inwardly at the sight of so much blood smeared on the towels and bedclothes. Sam closed his eyes against the frightening sight, and tried not to allow his tears to fall.
Gandalf and Sam sat with Frodo on into the evening as Elrond worked quickly, trying to locate the splinter. Gandalf had his own fears about this venture: Frodo shouldn't lose so much blood in his weakened state… but he knew in the back of his mind that it couldn't be helped. Either Frodo had to risk the chance of dying from loss of blood or possible infection, or he would perish when the Wraith's blade finally did pierce his heart. And in truth, Frodo hadn't lost all that much blood, but he was already so weak that any loss was considered a great one.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! Read and review please! :) And don't forget to check out "September".