-I do not own LOTR or any of its characters. But Thelin, Elomier, and Arron are mine.-

~*~

It was late into the night when Legolas became aware of a sound back at their camp. He had gone out to scout the area, suspecting something else to go wrong. A sound not pleasant to his elven ears.

Moaning, and what sounded like thrashing and harsh movements.

Thinking something terrible had befallen one of his new friends, he raced back to the small clearing as fast as he could. When he came to it, he saw nothing out of the normal.

He saw Aragorn and Thelin, almost side-by-side, sleeping peacefully. He also saw Merry and Saradoc, Merry sleeping comfortably in his fathers embrace with Saradoc's chin resting on his son's head, deep in sleep too.

Then Legolas' eyes rested on the source of the moaning and restlessness, and rushed over to him. Frodo lay entangled in his blankets, moaning and thrashing, his cheeks flushed and sweat plastering his dark curls to his forehead. Legolas knelt beside him and touched his arm gently, and snapped his hand back in surprise.

It was so hot!

Legolas put his hand to his little friend's forehead, and gasped, eyes wideening considerably. Frodo had a fever, a very high fever at that.

Legolas considered waking up Estel, but threw that thought away. He needs a good rest. I have to take care of this myself. Now first I have to wake Frodo up.

~*~

At first Frodo's dreams had been pleasant, not anything like they were now. And, oh, how he wished he could go back to those dreams, just to be out of these terirble ones.

Frodo had woken up in the middle of a field, a dark field, full of dead grass and smushed flowers. He only heard the moaning of the trees at the edges of the field, watching him with dark eyes hooded by darkened leaves that were even worse looking than the Old Forest at midnight.

Frodo slowly stood up, his heart beating a mile a minute. He looked around cautiously, not wanting to find anything bad. But that was when his bright eyes fell upon something, and snarling and howling reached his sensitive ears. It was a shadow, or a bunch of shadows, from what his eyes told him, for it was moving in every direction and yipping and howling to much for it to be a single thing.

His instincts told him to look away, to run away, to not come any closer, but something was drawing him to the shadow. Against his own will, he started walking slowly to it, the thing getting ever bigger, and scarier.

And when he was only a few feet away, the things turned their yellow eyes on him. Frodo took a step back, and something, actually two somethings, rose from behind the shadow things. They glowed a faint blue, illuminating the shadow things around them. Frodo gasped and took another step back, realizing what they were.

Wolves.

But not ordinary wolves, oh no. These wolves were huge! They stood almost five feet at the shoulder, and were almost eight or nine feet long, from their noses to the tip of their bushy tails. Some were jet black, and others were silvery white. But no matter their color, they all had long sharp nails, golden eyes, and very long sharp teeth.

And the things that had emerged from behind them were only about four feet tall, but they were floating in the air above the Wolf Giants, their heads lolling and big feet swaying. And with a terrible pang of hurt and dread, he realised, by the faint glow of blue, that the floating things were…

His parents.

They were dead, he knew, from the way their heads lolled and that their chests were not moving. They were dressed the same as they had been the day they had drowned, and they're cloths and curls were both extremely wet. And half of their cloths were ripped and shredded, and black blood was covering what was left of the ragged cloth.

The Wolf giant at the front howled, loud and clear, and the rest of the pack howled along with him, they're black and white coats gleaming. They slowly advanced as his parents' heads snapped up showing pointed, gleaming teeth, and yellow eyes. They floated down onto the front Wolf Giant's back, his father in front, his mother in back, holding onto his waist and grinning. His father grabbed onto the Wolf Giant's fur, and kicked the beast's white sides. The terrible beast shot forward, and Frodo dove out of the way, the beast's sharp claws nearly missing the side of his head by inches. His feet barely touching the ground, he swerved and came around for another attack, Frodo's father steering the beast, and Frodo dove out of the way again, but this time one of the beast's claws cut him on the arm, drawing blood almost immediately.

And it kept going on like this, attacking, diving, attacking diving, occasionally getting cut once again, until Frodo heard something.

"Frodo! FRODO! Wake up! You need to wake up Frodo, wake up!"

Wake up? Was he sleeping? But this seemed so real!

The Wolf Giant lunged at him again, this time grabbing his arm with his teeth, the four inch fangs sinking in deep. He gave a howl of pain, and suddenly, everything dissapeared.

~*~

Legolas was watching the thrashing and moaning get worse by the minute. He had tried to wake Frodo up, had really tried, bu couldn't. He had removed the small hot body from the blankets, and placed him on the grass carefully, and had been watching him for several minutes until he couldn't take it anymore. Not caring what would happen, he started shaking the small body and calling out to Frodo.

"Frodo! FRODO! Wake up! You need to wake up, Frodo, wake up!" Briefly he wondered how everyone in the clearing could sleep through all of this, but that thought was dashed away when Frodo awoke with a cry, looking around wildely and breathing shallowly. Then his fever-bright eyes rested on Legolas, and as Legolas started to try to reassure him that everything was alright, the hobbit gave a small cry and shrank back, curling into a small ball and whispering, "Please don't hurt me, don't make my parents kill me, I don't want them to be the cause of my death. Please don't hurt me."

Legolas drew back a bit in surprise, but crawled forward and put his slim hand on Frodo's shoulder, ready to try to give reassurances again. But again he was denied that by Frodo crying out, but this time Frodo didn't just curl into a ball. He shot up onto his feet and took off, running blindly through the trees.

Legolas stood up and hesitated, sparing a glance over his shoulder at their camp. But as the hobbit's soft footsteps grew even more distant, he shook his head and took off in the direction of the sound. But after a few seconds, and after he knew he was getting very close, the soft footsteps stopped alltogether.

He kept running a few feet, and stopped, looking around frantically. He heard something off to his right, and dashed off in that direction. He didn't notice the relieved sigh and the small scraping sounds as someone climbed down a tree.

~*~

TBC…

And the horrors continue… *yawn* Sorry guys, but I am really, REALLY tired. I'm going to leave this chapter where it is for now, and continue in a little bit.

R&R

Bye!

-lilpip