"It began with the forging of the Great Rings..."

Part 1: Dreams

Chapter 3

Frodo felt foolish as she laughed and he could feel his ears turning pink.
She seemed to be mocking him the more she laughed. He hung his head and
stared at his coverlet. Aratári saw and stopped laughing.

"Dear Frodo, I was only laughing at the prospect of me being twenty. I
would be merely a child." She smiled reassuringly.

Frodo cheered a bit remembering that he himself was 55, but looked only
thirty. Hobbits do not age very fast, most lived to be at least 100.

They passed an hour talking freely of common interests of Elves and Hobbits. Frodo was very glad that they got along so well. It seemed as if
he were talking to his lifelong best friend, not an Elf that he had met only a short while ago. And, he thought, had fallen for the moment he saw
her face.

They were in the middle of telling riddles when Bilbo showed up at the
door. At first, neither noticed the old Hobbit and they continued.

"When I eat I live, but when I drink I die. What am I?" Frodo loved this riddle because it stumped so many people that he told it to. Aratári looked puzzled and sat in silence thinking for a few minutes. Bilbo interjected,
"You are a flame, of course."

Frodo looked up, startled. "Bilbo?"

"Frodo, my lad!" Bilbo came to Frodo's bed and shook his hand. "Glad to see you! Well, I've seen a lot of you, but you haven't seen me. I've sat here
with you every day since you came." Frodo just smiled, happy to see his
uncle again. "I see you've met Aratári. She has the post of reading my songs before I sing them to the Elves. She makes them good enough to let
the House of Elrond hear."

"I hardly touch them! You are the one who writes such wonderful songs in the first place!" She smiled at Bilbo and clapped him on the back lightly.

"Yes, yes, thank you." He turned to Frodo and sat on the edge of his bed.
"I trust that you will be at the feast?"

"Feast?"

"Yes, to celebrate your arrival here. You held the fates of all of these
Elves when you brought the Ring here.

Frodo nodded, "Then I shall be there, won't I?"

"Well, we shall see, my boy. I just popped in to check on you. Sam told me you were up before he fell asleep. Poor boy, he wouldn't sleep until you woke up." Bilbo got up and walked towards the door, then stopped and turned to Frodo, "See you at the feast then." Bilbo left, singing a Hobbit walking song, which progressed louder to an Elvish song that Frodo had not heard
before.

Aratári chuckled lightly and said, "Charming Hobbit, in a funny,
grandfatherly way." She seemed to snap suddenly back to what they were talking about before Bilbo came in, "Where were we? Ah, yes. It was flame, as Bilbo answered for me." She thought for a bit to come up with a riddle,
but could not. "I'm all out of riddles," she confessed.

"I am too."

"What shall we talk about now? "

"I don't know."

An uneasy silence passed between them and Frodo became dimly aware of the sounds around him. There were Elvish voices from many parts of the building in which he stayed. He could hear Merry and Pippin not too far off as well.
The thing that seemed the loudest was his heart pounding in his ears.

His shoulder was beginning to ache again. He rubbed it absently, trying to
ease the tension that was building up.

Aratári saw this and got up out of the chair and brought a paste mixture
and set it down on the table beside Frodo's bed. She sat on the bed and lightly touched his shoulder, seeming to ask if she could help him. Frodo's heart fluttered and he nodded slowly. Carefully, she rubbed his shoulder, loosing the muscles. Frodo closed his eyes in contentment. Her touch was so
gentle and sure...

"Here, I have to put this on your wound so that it will close properly. It isn't a normal cut that you sustained." Frodo nodded and his heart sped up as she eased down the shoulder of his nightshirt and proceeded to rub the mixture in. It was cool and smooth and it seemed to melt into his stab mark and pulse through his body, renewing strength. "How are you feeling now?"
she asked as she took another finger full of the paste and started
massaging it in.

"I'm feeling a lot better than I was." Frodo said, breathlessly. His voice was a mere whisper. His throat had tightened up and made it difficult to
say anything at all. His head was spinning and his blood pumped in his
ears, this was all too much.

"Good." She didn't seem to notice anything unusual about Frodo's tone of voice, but if she did, she didn't show it. "We need to keep this stuff on your shoulder for it to heal. I'm supposed to put it on whenever you say
that it is uncomfortable."

Frodo could only nod. Aratári finished and set the bowl over on a counter across the room. "I think I can leave you alone for just a bit. The paste is supposed to make you drowsy. I have to finish some things, but I'll be
back later to check in on you." She turned to leave.

"Wait!" Frodo called and she walked back to his bedside. He took her fragile hand in his own and smiled. "Thank you, Lissimîr." He brought his lips to her hand and felt a tingle go down his spine. She flushed pink and
hurried from the room.

He sat by her side, dangling his feet in the water. She was laughing, but
Frodo didn't know what had made her laugh.

The day was clear and the water clearer. It was cool and refreshing; he waded out further into the stream and splashed about. He saw a pearly shell and dove under. Coming up, he spluttered a little and shook out his hair, spraying her with water. She laughed even more. His clothes were soaked and
he attempted to wring his shirt and pant legs out a bit.

Frodo pulled himself back onto the bank and handed her the shell, which she
took gratefully.

There was a picnic spread a little ways off and she went and sat down,
patting the ground beside her for him to come and sit as well.

Getting up from the shore, he looked into the water briefly and caught sight of something glowing below some weeds. Deciding to have a quick look before he ate, he called to her, "Wait there! I think I see something. I'll be right back!" He dove down to the thing and pulled the weeds away. There, glowing with a fire that couldn't be put out by water, was the Great Eye that had haunted his past dreams. It seemed to pull him down to the bottom
of the lake bed.

The Ring felt like a weight...

It started to smoke in the water...

His lungs screamed for breath...

A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him up...

Distantly someone was calling his name...