Darkness surrounded the whole of the world, as far as Frodo could see. He took a step forward, as if to see if the ground was stable enough. Suddenly a pool emanated out of nowhere, seemingly magical. Not three steps away, the young hobbit decided to have a look. Approaching it cautiously, he peered into the inky blackness. He saw so many things at once: silver stars, glimmers of mithril, deep blue oceans, crimson blood staining the ground, gray steel, precious gold, cold, heartless ice, and yet, at the same time, saw absolutely nothing; nothing in the darkness that enveloped him and the pool.

Then he saw a faded figure in the pond; a figure he somehow knew. Frodo gasped: it was Rayne. He kneeled down closer to the pool and stared into his glimmering silver-blue eyes. They were filled with tears, pain, and hope, yet stared ahead blankly. His face was covered in sweat and blood, showed pride and defeat at the same time; but he somehow was calm and clean. Frodo reached out to touch his face, but the instant his fingers brushed the water Rayne's image vanished.

~~~~

Frodo woke and sat up with a start. His shallow, quick breathing slowly returned to normal; beads of sweat rolled down his pale face. Still in the half-stupor of sleep, he whispered,
"Rayne...why?"
Hana emari, Frodo...

Frodo jumped. "Wh-who's there?"
Nethere...

He sighed. "Oh, it's just the wind." He got up and shut the window, shivering. 'But that seemed so... real,' he thought, sitting back on his bed, not bothering to cover himself with the blankets. "And it sounded like Rayne..."

He started. He was right; it did sound like him. But what was he saying? He couldn't understand the words, they were so faint, distant, quiet... He turned and looked out at the silver pale moon in the blue-black semi- darkness of the soon to arrive dawn. "Rayne..." he breathed.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and lay down. Tomorrow and the next day were reserved for the party preparations; he had to get some sleep for that. Sighing, he closed his eyes and drifted into a sleep no longer beset with nightmares of one he has only seen once...

*The next morning*

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam knocked on his master's door. "Mr. Frodo?" He heard a detached mumble that sounded like,
"I'm up, I'm up, okay? Now leave me 'lone." Sam sighed.
"Well, since you're up, Mr. Frodo, I should tell you that breakfast is ready." Not a few moments after Samwise had gone back to the kitchen, a tired, half-awake Frodo opened the door.

"Sam?" he questioned, walking into the kitchen after making himself reasonably presentable in the washroom. "I had the oddest dream last night," he said as he sat down at the table.
"Another one?" Sam asked. Frodo nodded, mentally sighing.
"Let me guess. It was about Rayne."
"Yes, Sam. It was... I can't help it though, it's just...it's like he made such an impression, even though I may never see him again in my whole life, that if I don't I should go mad."

Sam looked at his master quizzically.
"Mr. Frodo? Are you alright?" Frodo ignored him and continued thinking aloud.
"Hm... oh, Rayne...his eyes...they're, they're...oh, I don't know. I can't describe them. It's like...oh, it's like looking into endless pools of mithril, and silver, and...diamonds, and sapphires, and ice, and...oh I don't know what to say."

Sam looked mildly hurt.
"I see you have obviously taken a fancy to this young hobbit, Mr. Frodo. But oh, what can I say? When one does have a liking for someone, other things that that smitten hobbit may think about have been pushed from his mind." Frodo said nothing, and Sam immediately regretted what he had said. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo. I didn't mean that, it's just...I better get started on the garden," Sam hastily whispered, and he quickly walked out the door.

Frodo just sat there, thinking. He sighed, deciding he wasn't hungry. It was just a simple meal of oatmeal and milk anyway. He got up, went to his room, closed the door, and picked up Rayne's dragon cloak clasp that sat on the nightstand.
'I think I'm the smitten hobbit,' he thought, staring into the dragon's emerald eyes pitifully. 'But why?' Frodo clenched his teeth, knowing tears would come, fearing they would threaten to spill over.

'Because you care for him,' his inner voice whispered, always the troublemaker.

"No I don't!" he snapped suddenly, surprising himself. That's all it took for the tears to come.