Thank you FrodoBaggins87, Amatista, and Maddy Lake Deep for reviewing. I hope you haven't forgotten my story, Maddy Lake Deep. This is the first real update I've done. J

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Lord of the Rings…The characters are property of JRR Tolkien's descendents and certain events to the makers of the epic film.

Home is Where the Heart is

At Gondor

Upon our arrival in the White City, we approach Aragorn's castle, Gandalf and Elrond ahead, Uncle Bilbo and I slightly behind. Aragorn welcomes us openly, while Legolas looks on, slightly smiling, as is the usual manner of elves. Gimli looks straight ahead gruffly. Next to them, Elrond and Arwen embrace.

Aragorn invites us all inside the huge building. I am relieved at the fact that he is leading us to the dining hall, as I haven't had breakfast today. Somebody promised we'd have it on the ship, but we didn't. Having no second breakfast for days was hard, but missing both breakfast and second breakfast? No Hobbit has ever heard the likes of this idea before. Poor, elderly Uncle Bilbo, especially, not getting breakfast like that.

"Have you eaten yet?" Aragorn asks us.

Matter-of-factly, I answer, "No, they promised, but didn't follow through." I look Elrond straight in the eye, and he shrinks back slightly.

Aragorn laughs, "Well, let's eat. You all must be hungry, especially you Hobbits if I remember Pippin's list of your usual meals when the fellowship began correctly – it's nearly lunch." We all enter the dining hall, except Aragorn and Arwen, who stay by the door, talking quietly. I recognize a few of the words they say, as they are speaking Elvish. Arwen turns gracefully and joins us at the table along side her husband shortly after we took our seats. Two servants walk in with food, place it in our midst, and leave. We begin to pass the food around. Despite my relatively small appetite and known reputation of going without meals for some time, of late since I have not been eating second breakfast, elevensies, afternoon tea, and supper, I have not been able to do so – I always ate a little at each meal in the Shire.

Aragorn asks, "Say, Frodo, what brings you all to this part of the world again?"

I look around the table. Aragorn, Legolas, and Arwen look anxious for me to answer. I hate having to speak to large groups of people that aren't my closest friends or relations. "I was missing the Shire, and Elrond was missing Arwen. Gandalf –"

Gandalf cuts me off with a stern look. I look at him bewildered. He finishes the sentence I began, although not to the extent I was going to. "And I have business to attend to."

Our hosts look pleased and conversation resumes as normal, Elrond and Arwen speaking, Gandalf and Aragorn conversing quietly, and Legolas sitting down joking with Gimli. Bilbo sits, fully concentrating on his food. I sink back in my chair made for men, hoping no one will notice me. I'd like to speak with Strider and Legolas, but more one on one.

I soon get bored studying Legolas's stoic face – I normally look at people when I am bored – so I begin to look at Arwen's fair, smiling face, beholding her great beauty. Suddenly, my shortly forgotten wound from the wraiths starts to burn with a throbbing pain. It feels like a combination of Gollum's biting and the original stab.

My eyes roll back in my head. I feel my body start trembling. I hear everyone panicking and calling my name, and I feel my body go limp. Without warning, everything becomes black. An image of Sauruman appears, laughing evilly.

"I'm alive, Ring bearer, I'm alive." I feel absolutely horrified, wishing he would get out of my mind. "You're afraid, aren't you? I can sense it. You may have destroyed the Ring, but that was futile. I can reforge it, and I shall have complete power over everything." I feel the pain of my wound wax even more severe. My body is sweating as if I were but three inches from the sun, but my entire left side feels very cold. "You're in immense pain, I see. Why? You are wondering. The wraiths are near. They're searching, yes, searching for you, Ring Bearer."

I lie there trying to resist asking "How?" or saying anything to Sauruman, even in my mind. My will weakens, and I think the word.

"How? I remade them. I am nearly done reforging the Ring." I feel an overwhelming sense of desire and anger. Has this been what was drawing me back to Middle Earth? Was I just using the Shire as a guise? Sauruman leaves, seeming satisfied with my doubt.

My arm grows warm. My eyes see Gandalf and Arwen hovering over me. I sit up, panting. I yell out Gandalf's name. He looks deeply concerned and somewhat puzzled. I look around at all the confused faces. Even Elrond and Legolas's faces are no longer stoic. Uncle Bilbo is scurrying around, frantically yelling "Help!"

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf's voice echoes throughout the hollow dining hall.

Uncle Bilbo scurries noiselessly up. "Yes, Gan–? Frodo! Frodo, my boy. You are doing better, I see!" He nearly chokes me, hugging me tightly around the neck.

"Uncle!" I manage to squeak, barely recognizing my own voice. He backs away saying that he is sorry.

Gandalf kneels down gracefully. "Frodo, are you not doing well? Perhaps it was a bad idea letting you leave the elves."

"Quite alright, Gandalf, quite alright." I reply, choosing to save the bad tidings until we are able to talk alone, quietly.

Gandalf does not seem satisfied with my answer. Perhaps I should smile? No, people say that my smile looks stressful when I am hiding something. He searches my eyes, shakes his head woefully, stands up, and helps me to my feet. I am dizzy at first. Slowly, everything comes into focus. He tells my uncle to take me to my room and commands me to stay in bed. "I shall visit you later." he assures me.

I willingly let my uncle lead me away, with Aragorn leading us both to my room. He asks no questions, but leaves us alone quietly to talk amongst ourselves. I collapse onto my bed, feeling weary and afraid of both Saruman succeeding and Gandalf's wrath if I don not obey his command.

Bilbo sits at the foot of my bed after I have pulled the covers over myself. "Frodo, lad, what happened in there?"

I give him a reassuring smile. "Nothing. A wound from my journey was hurting."

My uncle, being somewhat gullible in his old age, believes me and stands up, starting to walk out of the room. "That severe pain though? You should have let the elves look at it."

"Uncle Bilbo, it has not ailed me for such a long time that I had nearly forgotten it." I reply in defense.

"Is that so?" he waves his hand to show it is rhetorical. "Well, I shall leave you to rest. I am sure Gandalf and Elrond will have a look. He walks out and closes the door behind him.

"Good day, Uncle." I lay my pillow down on the bed, and lie down in a reclining position, and drift off…