-I do not own LOTR or any of its characters.. To my great dread..

*hisses* But Elomier, Aron, and Thelin are mine! Mine! *drags them off somewhere*-

~*~

Frodo lay dreaming, but it was not a pleasant dream at all. His brow stayed furrowed and his breaths came a little unregularily, but other than that nothing indicated anyone of his nightmares. No one would have noticed anyway. Everyone lay sleeping peacefully around the dying embers of their small fire, some were even snoring softly. It was now very late at night, the moon high in the sky and the crickets chirping loudly. All the birds of the woods were now sleeping peacefully in their expertly made nests, some with tiny baby birds under their wing. Night animals were now out, searching for their meal and pausing to look at the sleepers with ominously glowing eyes and then continuing their search.

But poor Frodo was not feeling at peace at all, no matter what the small animals around him were. The animals that could hear his irregular breathing looked on with pity before scurrying away. Ever sine Frodo's parents had drowned, he had had nightmares every once in a great while, and every single one was worse than the last. And the one he was having at the moment was by far the worst he had ever had in his life.

He was running, running endlessly, though he did not know why. The dark trees that were all around him seemed to be bending over and waiting for the right moment to set their brown limbs on him. The whole forest seemed to glare at him, growling at him as he passed, snarling if he tread upon their roots. Finally he could see lights up ahead, and shouts and screams of fear and dread. Frodo wanted to stop, to turn away, to wake up, but he knew he could not. His dream self kept running towards the yellow lights of torches being held aloft by hobbits, and as he neared he heard shouts of, "They're dead! Oh Eru, they're dead!" and, "Poor hobbits! I always knew the river was no place to be near!". Frodo skidded to a halt at the back of a large crowd of hobbits at the edge of the Brandywine River, and when they caught sight of him, they parted slowly to let him through, staring at him as he made his way through.

Frodo dreaded what he would see, trying not to percieve the worst. When the last hobbits finally parted for him, he gasped and his heart tore in two, tears springing to his eyes immediately. His mother and father lay sprawled on the ground, a boat turned over a few feet away. His mother and father's eyes were open, cold distant and unseeing. They had no color whatsoever in their skin, their wet and dripping dark brown hair and eyelashes in stark contrast with their pale skin. Frodo slowly went to his hands and knees and craled to his mother's side and touched her face, and with a gasp and a shudder quickly drew his hand away. It was so cold. Frodo hesitated and reached over his mother's still body to touch his father's face, and with another sharp gasp and shudder instantly drew his hand away again. Tears flowed down his face unheeded as the other hobits sadly looked on.

Dead. They were dead. Who was supposed to tuck him in at night? Who was supposed to read him nightime stories? Who was supposed to kiss his booboos and make them all better? Who was supposed to feed him and take him out swimming? But most of all, who was supposed to love him?

His Aunt Esmerelda quietly walked over to him and picked him up, holding his shaking form close to her and rocking him slowly. Frodo sobbed into her shoulder as he was carried away towards Brandy Hall, his Uncle Saradoc following closely behind with his head bowed. Aunt Esme whispered soothing reasurances to him as she made her way back to Brandy Hall, shooshing him gently and stroking his curls. But nothing his Aunt could say could possibly calm his silent tears or peace together his shattered heart. His parents were gone, there was no one to love him.

Frodo jerked awake, his breath shallow and quick and cold perpiration on his brow. He sat up slowly and put his face in his hands, breathing in slow, deep gulps of air and trying to calm his racing heart. When his heart had finally slowed down, and his breathing rate was normal, he lifted his head and looked around slowly, making sure everything was alright.

Everyone lay sleeping around the now dead fire, covered in blankets which rose and feel with their everybreath, the only indication that they were even alive. Frodo choked and covered his mouth, keeping himself from wailing aloud in his misery. He could remember his dream all too vividly, and images of it kept flashing through his mind, words whispering to him, torturing his already torn heart.

Running endlessly, trees glaring at him and growling, snarling if he tread upon their roots. Yellow lights. Screams. "They're dead! Oh Eru, they're dead!" Staring eyes. Gasp. Tears. Mother and Father laying on the ground, an upturned boat a little ways away. Distant unseeing eyes. Cold and wet, to cold, deathly cold. Aunt Esme picking him up and carrying him away, Uncle Sara following. Aunt Esme whispering and shooshing him, trying to calm him. No. Nothing could help. They were dead. No one to love him. No one.

Frodo shook his head, trying to clear away the terrible thoughts. He passed his hand over his face, wiping away the tears he had been unaware of shedding. He slowly got up, carefully tucking the blankets around his cousin, trying his hardest to be quiet and not wake anyone up. He walked as soundlessly as he could, into the darkness of the woods. He didn't intend on going far, just far enough to get his head cleared.

Owls hooted in the trees above him, and the crickets chirped noisely. Pairs of yellowish eyes stared at him in the darkness, blinking slowly before turning off completely. He walked on breathing in the cold night air deeply and thinking hard.

What was he thinking? Of course he was loved!

'Really?' A small, taunting voice asked. 'Like who?'

Like Aunt Esme and Uncle Sara! His own voice in his mind answered.

'They only love you because they have to. They have to watch over you, or it will be their hides.' Frodo gave a small choke and tears fell freely down his face once more. 'Who else?'

Frodo only had to think a moment before answering. Merry!

The jeering voice laughed. 'A pity love!' It cried.

Frodo shook his head fiercely, his mind screaming, No! No! Merry does not pity me! He is my friend and cousin and he loves me!

Suddenly, in he middle of Frodo's reverie, he tripped over an overly large stick and fell face down on the ground. Frodo sat up and grumbled, rubbing his head and staring at the stick. Or so he thought, until it moved. Frodo gasped and his eyes slowly followed the path of the log, until it connected to someone's body. It was a man! The man moved again, and by the moonlight Frodo could just barely seethe man's eyes opening slowly. Frodo caught a glimpse of a dark form huddled next to the man before he took off running in fright. The man got up quickly and watched him for a second before running after him. The huddled form that Frodo had seen only moments before got up slowly and trotted after them.

Frodo ran as fast as he could, nearly running into several trees he had not seen in his path. He could hear thudding footsteps behind him, drawing ever nearer, and he also thought he could hear slightly softer feet jogging along behind the terribly loud feet.

Frodo suddenly saw up ahead a few trees he recognized, and heard many voices he recognized.

"Frodo's gone!" Merry!

"What!?" Uncle Sara!

"He's gone!?" Thelin!

"Calm down! Calm down! Where could he have gone?" Estel!

Frodo hurried toward the voices, his breaths coming in short shallow gasps now. The loud footsteps, still followed by softer ones, seemed not to notice the shouts ahead. Frodo ran on, his chest feeling like it was going to burst, it hurt so much to breath.

Frodo finally burst through the brush and into the small clearing in which his friends were now standing looking terribly frantic.They all turned to see him running and Merry shouted out his name and ran to him. "Where were you, Frodo?" But that was all he got out before Frodo leapt by him and something else, something else much, much bigger thundered past him. Frodo scurried up a tree, the man that had been chasing him stopping at the roots of the tree and glaring up at the small hobbit. "Get back here," he growled, seeming oblivious to the others around him, "Or I'll make you, you little-" Estel had unsheathed his sword and now stood with the point directed at the center of the man's back. "Let Frodo alone, or I'll make you!" He hissed.

The man slowly turned around, hands in the air, seemingly ready to give up. Suddenly, another man burst through the brush, and, seeing his companion, unsheethed his sword and aimed a blow with it at Estel. Estel quickly turned and blocked the blow effectively, and he continued to block and deliver blows to his opponent. The ringing of two more swords being taken from their sheaths made itself known, and Thelin and the first man's swords clanged together.

Merry and Uncle Sara backed off and stood behind a tree, watching the sword fight with wide eyes. Frodo watched from above, watching Estel's every movement. But as Frodo glanced at his opponent, he took a double-take. That was Elomier! Frodo looked over at where Thelin was fighting, and he realized that the other man was Aron.

White-hot anger bioled up inside of him like a fiery hot brand. Hadn't they done enough? Kidnapping him and nearly drowning him was high in Frodo's mind, and it only angered him more.

Frodo's gaze was brought back to the fight and what he saw next would stick in his mind forever. Aron was now holding two swords, one was his own, the other was Thelin's, to Thelin's throat. Everything was still, all things seemed to have stopped.

"Now," Spoke Aron in his smooth voice, "Drop your sword, or I will kill him." Estel glanced at Elomier, and then Aron, and finally Thelin. He hesitated for only a second, then dropped his sword, which landed point down in the ground with a soft thud, shaking slightly. Elomier and Aron both smirked at eachother, in such a mocking and evil way, Frodo felt his anger burn brighter. Elomier stepped closer to Estel, his sword pointed at his heart. He had a sneer planted firmly on his face as he said, "Aron, I think we should kill this one, don't you?" Aron nodded heartily, a firm sneer on his face too. Elomier shifted a bit to the right, before drawing back his sword to give the final blow.

He didn't see the small figure jump from the branches of the tree behind him, racing towards him like an elven arrow.

~*~

-To be continued-

Mwa ha ha! *glares evilly at you all* I love cliff hangers! They're so much fun to do! And they always keep you on edge, so then you'll want to read again!

So R&R and I'll write faster, and you'll know what happens next much quicker..

Yah, anyway! It took a lot to actually write this.. I dragged myself off the couch to do it, so be happy! ^^ *grins widely at you all and pinches someone's cheeks*

*walks off holding a Frodo plushie and some chocolate*

*!!!Oh yah! Guys? Could you tell me how to get things italicized? With an example and stuff too, please? Pretty please?!!!*