Frodo woke early the next morning. He hadn't been able to really sleep after his nightmare to begin with, and the rising of the sun hadn't helped. For months he'd been worrying about Sam, and his dream the night before had only worsened that worry. He had lain in bed and watched Sam sleeping peacefully. If anything should happen to Sam, he would never forgive himself.

Almost afraid to touch Sam, for fear that he might contaminate the pureness of his lover, he moved closer. Frodo slid his hand under the thick quilts and slid it over the mound that was their child. Did all new parents have fears, as he did? A light flutter met his touch, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Good morning, little one. I trust you slept well?" He whispered to Sam's belly with a small smile. "I promise you that I will make sure that you and your mother come through this alright. I think I'll get the Healer to come later this morning." Glancing up at Sam's peaceful face. "Whether you like it or not, my love."

Sam stood up from the chair by the kitchen fire, where he was cooking breakfast. A couple of days before, he'd had to give in to his aching back, and seat himself instead of standing while cooking. He'd heard the door close quietly, signaling that Frodo had returned from the Healer's.

"Frodo-dear?" He called out, hopefully and rubbed his lower back slightly at the thought of having to walk to the living room. The smial seemed to grow in size as he did; a feeling of breathlessness usually accompanied the effort to walk from the bedroom to the kitchen now. When there was no answer, Sam decided he should go and check to see if everything was all right.

Sam rounded the corner, and saw Frodo standing by the front door. He was standing stock still, and hadn't even removed his cloak to compensate for the heat of being indoors. As Sam got closer, he noticed that Frodo was much paler than usual. Something had happened.

"Frodo? What's happened?" Sam asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice. He knew that Frodo had gone to see the Healer this morning. Perhaps something was wrong. Was Frodo ill? Frodo broke his gaze away from the fire, and raised his eyes to Sam's.

He cleared his throat. "It's the Healer, Sam." Frodo's voice shook. "He's dead."

Sam's knees nearly gave out with the shock. "Dead? But how?" Realization dawning on him. "Oh, Frodo … !" His hands went protectively to his swollen belly, and he felt the salty bite of tears in his eyes.

Frodo swallowed his shock as he watched an odd shade of green spreading over Sam's face. He had become very familiar with that color over the past months. Jumping back a little, he was able to be out of harms way when Sam lurched forwards and lost his breakfast.

Taking Sam's shoulders, he steered him into the kitchen.

"Sit, dear heart. Just breathe. That's it, love. I feel terrible for frightening you so."

Sam was shaking all over, and still holding his belly instinctively.

"What are we to do now, Frodo?" His voice faltered slightly.

"I don't know, love. We'll think of something. Of that I'm sure." Frodo said, hoping that none of the fear that was gripping his heart showed in his voice.

"There's only few short weeks left before this babe comes … " Hot tears slid down Sam's cheeks while his fingers drew soft circles over his extended belly for comfort.

Frodo's heart ached to see his lover so frightened. His mind began to run over all the solutions he could think of. He found himself wishing that Aragorn were there, he would have known what to do.

" … Lord Elrond?" Sam's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Sorry, Sam-dear. I was elsewhere for a moment." His eyes met the teary hazel ones. "Say that again?"

"I asked if you thought Lord Elrond could help, is all." Sam sniffed looking hopeful.

"Samwise Gamgee! Sometimes you amaze me with your brilliance! Do you think we have time to make the trip to Rivendell?" Frodo knelt at Sam's feet, putting both hands on Sam's hard belly, and looking hopefully into his eyes.

"Well," Sam said, sniffing once more. "The Healer told me last week that I'd about six weeks left. So, that leaves five now, to travel."

"I'm not sure I quite like the idea of taking you out in the wilds in your present condition, Sam." Frodo spoke quietly, tracing a little pattern on Sam's belly to keep from thinking of his nightmare.

"Frodo, this baby is getting ready. I can feel it. I'm not liking the idea of having some Shire farmer, who's only delivered sheep and ponies, as my only choice when the time comes." Sam placed his hands over Frodo's, and leant down to kiss the slightly frowning lips.

"Elrond would be my choice now, too, love. I only wish there was an easy way to get you to him. It's too far to walk now, and that would take too long. Riding out jostle you and the child too much … "

"Then we'll take the wagon, love. I could ride the whole way, and we could make it in time to hopefully be able to enjoy each other, before we become three."

"Oh, Sam! Whatever would I do without your good hobbit sense to keep me straight?" Frodo teased lovingly.

The next hours were spent packing, and making plans. After tea they would set out for Crickhollow, and enlist the help of Merry and Pippin if they would come. Frodo welcomed the idea of help, as he wouldn't let Sam lift or carry anything, and after packing the wagon himself, was very tired. It was going to be a long trip, and he prayed to the Valar that everything turned out for the best.