Mistress-Samwise: The title of this chapter comes nowhere close to describing how I feel right now. If there's one thing I've learned from high school, it's that weekends NEVER come soon enough. I hope you enjoy this with much more jubilation than I can muster in telling you of it.

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            Frodo was lying on his side, his body bowed with pain. The surrounding darkness was thick, almost tangible, as it blanketed him with an uneasy coldness. He slowly began to realize a presence behind him, but he was reluctant with fear as he painfully turned over to see who it was. And he had all the reason to be afraid: it was his mother. She was dreadfully silent as she pointed at him, at his hand. Looking down, he found in his grasp a dagger, tinted red with his own blood. He looked back up at his mother, her face filled with sorrow and disappointment. But just then, everything disappeared, and he found himself on his hands and knees in what seemed to be dry grass. A horrible orange glow illuminated clouds of smoke drifting over the tops of the grass. He then perceived a deep rumble break through the roar of the fire as the sweltering heat pressed against his face.

            "Where are you?" he cried, but there was no answer. He called out a second time, but no one responded. He began to panic as he crawled through the embers, burning his skin. But he didn't care; he was looking for something or someone very important. He tried hard to remember, but no name came to him. Still, he carried on, searching through the flames. He thought he had heard a voice when he suddenly woke up.

            "Huh…?" he mumbled, half awake. He looked around, and saw that he was back in his bedroom. Trying to open his drooping eyelids some more, he let out a tired sigh. "A dream…"

            He yawned and turned around, only to fall off his bed and onto the floor.

            "…Ow…" he said, still only half awake, too tired to cuss. "Wha' happen'?"

            It took him a moment to realize that he had fallen off of his bed.

            "Bah…"

            He crawled back onto his bed, and was ready to fall back asleep when a knock came to his door.

            "Frodo? It's me, Merry."

            "Mmm, go 'way, Mer…" Frodo grumbled.

            "Come on!" Merry pleaded. "You've been sleeping for over twelve hours! Don't you think you can use at least a little food?"

            "Too tired…" Frodo replied. Merry groaned and stepped into the room.

            "You're pathetic," Merry stated while placing a tray of blueberry scones on the night stand. Frodo only let out a pitiful moan, too sleepy to be over-offended.

            "Good heavens, Frodo!" Merry cried. "What are you going to do with yourself? All you've been doing is sleeping! It grows concerning after a while. Won't you eat something?"

            Frodo's hand wandered over and took a scone. He stared at it for a moment and then took a bite.

            "Toof ty-herd to heat," he said with his mouth full. Merry sighed in disgust.

            "Now you're just being silly," Merry pointed out. "Eat it or I won't leave."

            Frodo immediately swallowed and took another bite of the scone.

            "Isn't that much better?" Merry asked.

            "Bah…" Frodo replied.

            "Come on, it's only a scone! How hard can it be to eat a scone?"

            Frodo grumbled. Merry threw up his arms.

            "You're hopeless! Why don't you give us all a break and act like a normal hobbit for once?"

            "Bah…"

            "And I told you I'm not leaving until you finish that scone."

            Frodo took the scone, wadded it up into a ball and stuck the whole thing in his mouth.

            " 'appy now?"

            "Yes, quite."

            "Ooo can 'eave now."

            Merry promptly left the room, happy to be away from his dismal cousin. Frodo sat there a while, smiling smugly, fully aware of what a snob he was. He continued to eat the rest of he scones, now far from tired.

            "Hah! Fools! There's no way I'm giving in to them! But at least these scones are good…"

            He was halfway through the scone when he choked. After a long coughing fit, he managed to breathe again. He then proceeded to speak his mind upon the subject.

            "Hah hah hah… Real damn funny! Next time, try something a little more ironic!" He paused for a moment. "Who am I kidding? That was bloody ironic!" He growled. "Bah! I hate my life!"

            He sat all in a huff, not willing to touch the last scone.

            "If I don't eat it, I don't choke, so there!" He stuck his tongue out, but then bit it. "Ouch! Grr! This isn't funny!"

            But, alas, somebody out there found it all rather amusing, for the instant he finished his statement, he bit his tongue again.

            "Alright! Alright! I'll shut up! God…"

            And for a long while, he decided it was best if he didn't try to say anything else.

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Mistress-Samwise: After this chapter, it tends to get a little more serious, so… Yeah. Uhh… I have to go now. My planet needs me. *beams up*