Author's Note: Not mine. Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed, it's nice to know people care. So, uh, yeah…thanks! Now, back to Frodo, Sam, and everyone else. Please review (or continue to review) with questions, comments, ideas, etc.…it's really appreciated…and let me know if I spell names wrong please!

Random song line of the chapter (I think I'll be doing this for now on…unless I'm told otherwise…):

Just be my angel of the morning, angel…just be my friend when I'm in need, angel…

Chapter Two: Help

Sam stood goggling from Frodo's bedroom doorway for a moment, amazed by the complete disarray of the room before his eyes fell upon his friend.

The room itself looked as if a fair amount of Nazgul had been through it. Frodo's desk was at a slant, and all of the drawers were open to the verge of falling out. The chair was tipped over. Books lay at various points in the room, and several pages had been ripped out and thrown about the room. The bookshelves were cluttered with odd items (a belt and a chipped coffee mug caught Sam's eyes first) that hadn't been there before. The shades were shut, and candles had burned themselves down in their lamps.

The room was so dark and quiet that Sam nearly missed Frodo, who wasn't moving. His eyes finally fell on Frodo's prone figure, and his stomach clenched.

Frodo was thin, thinner then he had ever been at any point during their long journey. His pupils were dilated and his eyes seemed slightly glazed. His tousled ringlets were soaked with sweat…as was the rest of his body. His lips were chapped, and he shivered constantly.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked quietly. Oh Elbereth, please let him be alive!

Frodo didn't answer, for he had used what was left of his strength calling for help. He was just barely conscious…just barely alive.

~*~*~*~

After crying for help, Frodo had collapsed. He was so hot…but he was also so cold…

Light was painful to him, and he had been glad when the candles had gone out. Before he had taken to his bed, he had closed the window blinds. He had managed to do this during one of the times when the fever hadn't been contorting his thoughts. He had "woken up" (that's how it felt…like coming out of some strange dream where lights were murderous and all the edges were curved) to find he had torn apart his room (he had vague memories of himself furious at the room, but he couldn't remember why). He closed the blinds and was about to get some water for his parched throat when tiredness struck. I'll just get something to drink after a quick nap… and with that thought, he had collapsed, only to awaken a few days later to the sound of Sam's slightly slurred yells.

The door to his bedroom had flown open and light had poured in, making his skull ache. Sam floated in…but it couldn't be Sam. The being that drifted into his room certainly sounded like Sam ("Mr. Frodo?") but looked nothing like him.

At first, Frodo had thought it was Strider…but then the being moved and it's surface shifted, and it had looked like Arwen. Next it looked like Legolas…then Gimli…then Sauroman…but now it looked like…

Like Smeagol! Frodo tried to tell the annoying creature to go away, but his voice wouldn't work anymore. He could only watch helplessly as Smeagol crept closer…

~*~*~*~

"Mr. Frodo, what's wrong? It's me, Sam!" Sam said, wincing at the terror in Frodo's eyes. Frodo gave no sign of hearing or believing him, so he asked, "Frodo?" again, searching the unfocussed eyes for recognition.

There was none.

Sam reached and put his hand against Frodo's forehead, and pulled it away quickly. Frodo had a very high fever. Sam searched his brain for what to do in case of a fever such as this.

His brain pulled up a memory…if someone has a fever, high or not, you always make sure they are not dehydrated…

"I'll be right back, Mr. Frodo. No worries now, Samwise can take care of you." He whispered, and Frodo's eyes closed. His labored breathing slowed down…he had either fallen asleep instantly or fainted…Sam didn't know which.

Sam rushed out of the room and into the kitchen to get a nice, cold glass of water.

~*~*~*~

Smeagol had talked to him, then reached out one grimy hand and place it against his forehead. When he removed it, Smeagol was gone, and Sam was there, looking scared to death.

"I'll be right back, Mr. Frodo. No worries now, Samwise can take care of you." He had whispered, and it finally registered in Frodo's fevered brain. He sought comfort in those words and found it, putting his mind and body to rest.

Frodo closed his eyes, and went to sleep, dreaming of his adventures with Sam.

Author's Note: Okay, the whole Smeagol thing was in there to show how delirious Frodo is, just to explain. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and (as usual, lol) I won't post another chapter unless I get reviews, so PLEASE review! It's nice to know people enjoy this story, and if you didn't enjoy this chapter, tell me why! I wanna know! (Please) :-D