I stirred as I became aware of an irritating- or rather a more noticeably irritating ache in my ribs. When I opened my stinging eyes, they settled on a figure leaning over me. It was a young blonde man with green eyes and a defined jaw. His expression softened as he noticed I was awake.

"I'm sorry I woke you. My name is Ryndil. I'll be looking after you now."

He smiled and moved away to fill a glass with water.

"Here. Drink just a bit. Not too much." He said, lifting my head up and holding the glass to my mouth as I tipped it up to drink from it.

The cool water felt wonderful in my dry, hot throat.

"Do you feel up to eating anything? Perhaps some broth?"

"I don't know... I'm not sure I- can…" I was vague, but he seemed to understand.

"Just a few sips? You will be glad you did later." He said.

"Well... I suppose I should…"

As he slipped from the room to get my broth, I rubbed my throat and felt that the swelling had gone down. My voice was much stronger and I was able to swallow with considerably less discomfort. I wondered how Sam was and hoped he was resting comfortably. He did not look at all well as he left my side.

I had a feeling as if I were being watched and my eyes darted across the room to find Legolas seated in a chair by the fire. He smiled as he rose from his spot.

"Have you slept well?" He asked, his arms behind his back as he slowly walked across the floor. I nodded and sighed, bringing on a few more coughs.

"It is good to see you again." I said.

I felt foolish about my choice of words. It seemed such a silly understatement, but he thought nothing of it. (Or at least he was good at hiding it.) We couldn't think of much to say to each other, but I didn't feel up to much talking anyway. It was not long before Ryndil returned with the broth. This time I was able to eat a bit more before I began to feel sick again. He did not force me to eat beyond what I could handle, and I was glad for it.

After Ryndil had checked my bandages, he said he would be back in an hour or so to check on me again, and left the room. Many minutes passed as I stared at the ceiling, concentrating on my breathing and trying to ignore any soreness. It seemed the pain was beginning to subside, though, and I suspected Ryndil had slipped something into my broth. Legolas walked to the shelf and ran his hand along a line of books.

"Would you like me to read to you?" He asked, turning back to look at me.

"Yes, I'd like that." I replied.

He pulled out one of the books, and, sitting in a chair at my bedside, he opened the book and began to read. I was sure there had been medicine in the broth now, because I was starting to feel drowsy and extremely disoriented. I couldn't follow the story that Legolas read because I kept forgetting what he had said in the previous sentence. It didn't matter though- I enjoyed the story, and he had a lovely reading voice. It was very soothing to listen to. I drifted again, and Legolas stayed by me, even as I slept. It became common for me to awaken in a panic, but each time, I found him sitting there, reading the book silently. He would place his hand on my head and speak in a calming tone until I drifted back to sleep.

I heard a voice.

I saw the mountainside.

Sweltering heat and dark smoke.

I flinched-

The mountain...

"Frodo…"

That voice! I knew it! But who? Where?

It faded...

The sound of orcs marching.

The jingle of the chain around my neck.

Fire. Fire burning.

Something touched me! What was it?!

Gollum! Gollum with his hands around my neck! I couldn't breathe! I tried to scream but I couldn't!

I let out a raspy whisper of a scream and woke myself up. It took me several seconds to become fully alert and remember where I was. I weakly wiped the sweat from my brow and looked up to find a face looking back at me. It was my cousin, Peregrin Took, with his hand on my shoulder. When I recognised him, I reached out to him and he leaned over and hugged me. All he could say was my name, over and over.

"...Oh, Pip…" I muttered.

I rubbed my hand across his back and squeezed my eyes shut. He stood up again and I looked him over.

His left wrist was bandaged and he had some cuts on his face. His lips were drained of colour and the skin around his eyes darker, but his eyes themselves shown as brightly as ever. He told me of how much he had missed me and how proud he was of Sam and me. He spoke with such uncharacteristic compassion, sincerity, and gravity, it made me wonder if I looked as truly terrible as I felt. I clasped his hand and we exchanged teary smiles.

"Merry?" I asked, not finding strength to elaborate.

He wiped the tears from his cheeks, but kept a smile across his lips.

"He's sleeping. He wanted to come see you, but... The doctor said he should rest."

"Is he hurt?" I asked, concerned.

Pippin tilted his head with a response just at the tip of his tongue, but just then, a voice came from the doorway and he jerked his head to look.

"I'm fine, I'm fine! Don't know why everybody's making such a fuss about it."

Merry came into the room, and I was shocked to see him hobbling in on crutches, his right shin in a splint. Pippin ran to him, reminding him of what the healer had said, but Merry dismissed it and made his way to me.

"Hello, Frodo." He said in a gentle, bittersweet tone, smiling.

It was difficult for him to lean down and hug me, what with his broken leg, so we grasped each other's hand instead. He pressed his lips together and gave my hand a shake, but then suddenly let go of his crutches and scrambled onto the edge of the bed, grabbing me up in a massive hug. I held onto him like I'd never let go, and Pippin laughed and picked up the crutches, then jumped onto the bed and hugged both of us. At last, we released each other and Merry clasped my head in both his hands and pressed our foreheads together as he laughed. I couldn't help but smile at seeing them again. Pippin helped Merry sit down in the chair by my right. I was so glad to see my cousins again, it made me forget about my injuries. That is, until I had another fit of coughing. It was brutal and horrible and they were very obviously worried about me. Pippin tried to help me sit up as I struggled to breathe. Another loud popping sound resonated from within my chest and my cousins' eyes widened. Pippin, who sat beside me, clasped both of my shoulders from behind and watched me with extreme concern. I continued to cough, but patted his hand in an attempt to put him at ease. Just then, Ryndil entered the room carrying a bowl, and upon seeing my predicament, he quickly deposited it onto the table nearest him and came to me at once. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he held me up, leaning my head back, trying to open my airways.

"Breathe. Just breathe." He told me, many times.

I wasn't getting much oxygen and I started to feel lightheaded.

"Relax. Relax your muscles. Breathe." He said.

"What's wrong with him?" Pippin asked anxiously.

Eventually the coughing passed and I was able to draw in enough air to revive.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Pippin impatiently continued.

"It is difficult to say-"

Ryndil did not have the time to explain it all to him. He held me up with one arm and stacked my pillows with the other. Pippin quickly caught on and helped with the pillows. Ryndil leaned me back against them and put his ear to my chest as I breathed. Once he was done listening, he instructed Pippin to hold the candle closer, and he did. Ryndil had me open my mouth as he looked down my throat. Pippin became too engrossed in the examination, trying to glean what information he could from his own inspection, and he accidentally held the candle too close, nearly singeing my hair with the flame, but Ryndil noticed and quickly pushed it away before it was too late. Merry whacked Pippin's rear, scolding him for being careless, and Pippin apologised profusely. Though I couldn't recall the last time I laughed, I found the incident quite funny for some reason and began to, but suddenly, my laughter turned to tears. I was confused by my own emotions and felt overwhelmed and out of control. I began to shake and I clutched my temples with my right hand as tears raced down my cheeks. I knew he didn't understand, but Pippin tried to comfort me. He and Merry exchanged concerned glances as I tried to regain my composure. Ryndil continued to examine me, then he stood up and spoke.

"Tell me the name of someone you would trust to make decisions about your health."

"Well... You, I suppose." I replied.

"No, no. Other than me."

I suggested Aragorn, knowing of his talent in healing, and he nodded and headed towards the door. Pausing at the table, he picked up the bowl he had brought in and turned around to face me.

"Do you think you could handle this yourself?" He asked.

"I'll help." Pippin inserted eagerly, hopping off of the bed to take the bowl from Ryndil.

He thanked Pippin and left the room. I wondered why he needed to confer with someone I trusted about my health, but I put it out of my mind. I was simply too exhausted to dwell on anything that might cause me further panic. Pippin made his way back to me, careful not to spill any broth over the sides of the bowl as he walked. He climbed onto the bed and fed it to me. I was again able to eat some, but still couldn't come even close to finishing before I began feeling sick. Poor Pippin. I could tell he was disheartened that he could not get me to eat all of it. He had so wanted to see me doing well and back to my old self, but the fact was that I was very ill, badly injured and traumatised. It was a miracle I was even alive, and it would be much longer before I felt like myself. When I finished, Pippin put the bowl on the table by my bedside and I settled back into the pillows again. Pippin stayed beside me and Merry began to relate the gruesome details of his leg being treated.

"-So then he grabs my leg with both hands and just- CRACK- pops it back!" Merry said, almost proudly, emphasising the repositioning with his hands.

"That must've been terrible…" I commented, feeling a queasy shiver crawl up my spine upon hearing his tale.

"Oh, well… Yes, but I think I handled it pretty well." Merry told me.

"Handled it well? You should've heard him, Frodo- The way he screeched you'd've thought he'd had his leg ripped clean off!" Pippin said, teasingly.

"Well, it hurt!"

"I know, I know!" Pippin said, turning to me, "It was actually quite sad. I pitied him."

Pippin attempted a more sober expression, but his lips still curled at the corners.

"We all know if it'd been you, Pip, he would'veheard it from here!" Merry retorted. "Oh, and listen to this!" He continued, "After he fixes me up, I ask him how long does he think it'll be 'til it heals and he tells me, 'About six weeks.', and I say 'Wha- Is it that serious? How bad is it?', and he says, 'No, it's not serious.' …So I asked him, 'Is it all- Is it all smashed to pieces or something?', and he said, 'Oh, no- It seems to be a clean break.', so I ask him why would it take so long, and he tells me, 'That's just how long it takes!'"

"What?!" Pippin said, taken aback.

"That's what he told me!"

"Well remember when I broke my ankle a few years back? When I fell out of that big oak tree we were climbing at Mosco Burrows' birthday party? It didn't take but two or three weeks and I was back on my feet again!" Pippin commented, "Perhaps it takes longer for Men to heal? These doctors can't know much about hobbits."

"Well, it made me a bit uneasy at having him poke around at my leg, I'll tell you that." Merry said with a slight chuckle.

They continued their conversation but I wasn't paying enough attention to hear the rest of what they said.

I didn't have the energy to talk or even stay awake for long, and after a while, I slumped over onto Pippin's shoulder and fell asleep. I was barely aware of this at the time, but he didn't seem to mind it.

I slept for another three hours, and though it was filled with nightmares, I did not wake. I could've slept much longer than that, if I had not been woken by an insistent Ryndil. I blinked several times and squinted, trying to get my bearings. Merry and Pippin were gone, but Aragorn was by the fireplace and stirring the flaming logs with a poker. Ryndil stood a few feet away from me with his back turned, fiddling with something just out of my view.

I felt odd and confused- My head was spinning too, and I felt queasy. I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair and was further disoriented when I found that it was clean and untangled, and had curled up again like it always did after a bath. My skin felt clean too, and I had on a fresh nightshirt. Had I taken a bath? I had no recollection of this. Was I dreaming now? Eventually I realised I must've been bathed and either would not wake for it, or had completely forgotten. Either way, it didn't really matter at this point, though I did not much like the thought of being so helpless as to have need for someone to bathe me.

Aragorn walked to me.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, as pleasantly as he could.

I shook my head. (and regretted it immediately as the room spun.) He nodded slowly with a more solemn and understanding expression. Ryndil approached me with a tray full of different bottles.

"I've quite a few medicines for you here." He said, as he began to pour one of the syrups into a spoon. It smelled awful and it was a horrid greenish-brown colour. I took it without question anyway, but its flavour was so foul it sent a shiver down my spine. None of the other medicines were nearly as offensive, and the final dose was actually quite pleasant tasting. Another healer slipped into my room while I was taking the medicine and Ryndil had acknowledged him, pointing him in the direction of the table he had been fiddling with things at. An uneasy feeling crept over me as everyone's mood seemed to change. The other healer milled about, gathering things up. He had left the room at one point and soon returned with more objects. Ryndil checked my vitals, then looked to the other healer and nodded.

"Are we ready?" He whispered to the other man.

But ready for what? He nodded and handed Ryndil another bottle and a spoon. Ryndil prepared a dose and lifted it to my mouth. I hesitated and eyed it skeptically. He moved it closer and I recoiled.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It will help you to feel better, Frodo. You've nothing to fear." Aragorn said, placing his hand on my forearm.

"I... I don't think I want it." I said.

"Take it. It's not going to hurt you." Said the blonde healer.

My eyes darted from Ryndil to Aragorn and they insisted I take it. I took some convincing, but eventually swallowed the medicine. It was a little sour, but it slid down my throat without much discomfort. Ryndil got up immediately after and began milling about with the other healer. Aragorn's eyes stayed on me. I started to feel a little out of sorts and drowsy. My eyes weaved through the room and my eyelids became heavy. Finally, the things on the table that had previously been obscured came into view; knives and all sorts of horrid looking sharp instruments and tools. My heart skipped a beat as I finally realised what was going on- I had just been drugged for an operation. I sat up in a panic, and Aragorn sprung into action, holding me down, as if he could predict my every move. I was losing consciousness every second, despite my great effort to retain it. I was completely out of it by now and whimpered and struggled against Aragorn's grip. He tried to console me, but there was no point. I had endured such pain already. I did not want to be operated on. And what were they going to do to me?! I imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios. I had been having trouble with my lungs- What if they were going to do something to my lungs? What if they removed one? Could they do that? The medicine seemed to amplify my panic exponentially. I began to lose my strength and I slumped over in Aragorn's arms. He laid me down and I went completely limp, unable to move at all. The sensation reminded me all too much of being paralysed by the spider in Cirith Ungol.

Ryndil began to remove my nightshirt and I kept my eyes on Aragorn as long as I could, but it was not long at all before all the world faded from my sight.