"Mister Frodo…" I heard Sam say.

"Frodo... Wake up." He said, gently nudging me.

I knew we should press on, but I was so tired. We were close to the mountain though, and running out of time. I opened my eyes, and as they adjusted to the dim light, I found myself not in Mordor at all, but in Minas Tirith- and taking up the whole bed at that; lying on my right side, my shoulders pressed into Sam's back with half my face buried in his shirt. I apologised and moved over, turning to lie on my back. The medicine had worn off and the sensation surrounding the incision in my chest was so terrible I wondered how I hadn't woken before now. Sam must've heard my pained sighs, and he turned to look at me.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice raspy and sleepy.

"It just hurts…" I finally replied, vaguely.

I noticed a figure I recognised to be Legolas across the room. He rose from his seat and stepped to the edge of the bed.

"Do you need something for the pain?" He asked, but once he had gotten a better look at me, it seemed he could sense my suffering and soon left us to get a healer.

Another dose of the medicine meant I would be disoriented- bordering delirious again for hours, but I honestly didn't care at this point. I was tired of being in such pain. I would've done anything just to make it stop.

It was still mostly dark outside, but there was a hint of a pinkish purple glow outside from the imminent sunrise, just bright enough to illuminate the room so that you could see. Sam fell asleep again and I could decipher signs of a slight frown and tension in his face. I had no way of knowing what he struggled against, be it pain or nightmares, as he was good at keeping his worries to himself. He always put everyone else's needs before his own. It was a bit cold in the room and I pulled the blanket up over his shoulder as he clenched his jaw in his sleep.

It wasn't long before Legolas returned with Ryndil. They both walked to my side of the bed.

"Good morning, Frodo. How are you feeling?" Ryndil asked in a whisper, pulling up a chair while checking my pulse out of habit.

"Not well... The medicine wore off." I told him, quietly.

Ryndil hesitated, nodding pensively, then spoke.

"I think I should take Samwise into the next room so we won't disturb him."

Ryndil began to rise, but Legolas volunteered to take him instead. He went around to the other side of the bed and said his name gently; placing his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam didn't wake, so Legolas carefully collected him up in his arms and made his way across the room. Once they got near the door, Sam stirred and strained to look over Legolas's shoulder at me. I smiled slightly and kept my eyes on him until he disappeared around the corner. Ryndil started a new fire in the fireplace and it quickly filled the room with light and warmth.

He came back to me and first tested me by having me grip his forearm as firmly as I could with my right hand, and afterwards with my left, then he began the routine of changing my bandages, starting with my finger. Once he unwound the gauze from it, he grasped my wrist in a firm grip with one hand, and with the other, he pressed some cloth saturated with a certain liquid to the stub and it burned terribly. Ryndil glanced at my face repeatedly as he cleansed the injury to ensure he wasn't causing me pain beyond what I could manage.

He finished and bandaged it as quickly as he could, then changed the bandages around my chest again. After that, he changed just a few others and finally it was over. I now had renewed stinging sensations all over my body, and Ryndil, being well attuned to such things, instantly recognised the signs of my discomfort, though I said nothing.

"Tell me what I can do to help." Ryndil said.

"The medicine? For the pain?-" I began to suggest.

"Oh... Well, Frodo... I'm afraid I can't give you any just now." He said, hesitantly, "In fact, I'm afraid I can't give you any more for quite some time."

"Why?" I asked, devastated and dreading his response.

"The ingredients it's made from can be dangerous if used excessively. It's very easy for your body to become dependent on it, and trust me- It is a very unpleasant experience to be deprived of it once you are dependent." He told me.

I flopped my head back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. All I wanted was that medicine. The pain was already so intense now it almost made me feel sick. I couldn't bear the thought of going hours more without any relief. A few minutes passed and the sun was beginning to brighten the sky.

"How long?" I asked.

"Well, it's just dawn now... I think about... Oh, I think you could have some by eight o'clock." He said.

I sighed in relief upon hearing his words.

"Well... That's not so bad. That's only an hour or two." I said.

"Oh- I meant tonight. Eight o'clock tonight." He said, deeply regretting the way he had put it the first time.

I didn't know from where I would draw the strength, or how, to endure the hours that lay ahead, but I still tried to hold onto whatever strength had brought me this far. I had endured many discomforts recently and by comparison, this was far better, and I meant not to be ungrateful. After a while, Ryndil brought me some broth. I didn't want it. The pain that coursed through my body lost me what little appetite I had, but I ate as much as I could. Ryndil knew my limits and didn't force me past them.

It was a peaceful day in Minas Tirith- from this side of the door, at least. Birds sang and flew by the large windows and puffy white clouds floated by up in the sky, dimming the sunlight every so often. Now that it was light again and I had more presence of mind, I could truly take in my surroundings, though everything still felt a little surreal. I realised now that on either side of the large windows I faced were shutter doors which could be opened to lead out to a balcony. Ryndil told me that once I was strong enough to walk again we could go out onto it, and I was glad to have something I could look forward to.

The day went on, and as there was not much of anything to occupy my mind, I began to dwell on my soreness and all that had transpired- particularly within the last week. I started to become very anxious, so Ryndil sat down and began a conversation to distract me.

"You must miss your home. I hear you have been away for quite some time." He said.

"Yes, I have… I miss it very much." I said, daydreaming about the Shire.

"Do you have any family back home?" Ryndil asked.

"Well, yes- All sorts of aunts and uncles and cousins. Where I come from, one is never short of relatives." I said with an amused smile, "But… My mother and father died when I was small, and I haven't any siblings." I continued.

He expressed his sympathy and I spoke again;

"Not by blood, anyway. The three other hobbits you may've met here might as well be my brothers."

"Yes, you all seem to be very close." He commented.

"What about you? Have you any family?" I asked.

"Two brothers, a sister, and my mother. My father died many years ago. He was a great warrior."

"I'm sure he would be very proud of you." I said.

"Why?" He asked with a confused smile- almost as if he were surprised at my remark, or unable to see his worth.

"Well, because you're a healer. And a good one at that. It's a very noble profession." I told him.

He scoffed through a smile and looked down a bit pensively.

"No, no… He never wanted me to be a healer. I was always supposed to be a soldier…" He said, as he bit the edge of his lip, "I think… I think he would have been ashamed of my choice, actually…"

"Not everyone is cut out to be a soldier." I said, sincerely, "The way I learned that was not very pleasant."

He lifted his eyes to mine and we shared an understanding gaze. Departing from the somewhat gloomy tone our conversation had taken on, he inhaled and slapped his thighs lightly, then rose from his seat. He looked at a clock to my far left and spoke.

"Well, it's just about noon. How are you faring?"

Nearly eight more hours. And every minute seemed a lifetime.

"Well enough, I suppose…" I told him.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

I shrugged slightly and just then, there came a knock on the door. Ryndil went to open it, but I could not see who was there. The visitor asked of my condition and I perked up as I recognised his voice.

"Gandalf?" I called out.

Ryndil looked to me, then opened the door wider, welcoming my visitor in. Gandalf approached me and as he got close enough, I reached out and threw myself into his arms with such force it made him laugh out loud. Perhaps this had not been the best idea, as it caused me a fair amount of pain, but I disregarded it and smiled broadly. Without the haze in my thoughts from the medicine, I was finally able to fully enjoy Gandalf's company. After some time had passed, he began to pull away from the hug, but I grasped him tighter and wouldn't let go. He tolerated me and patted my back, softly chuckling.

Eventually, I released him and couldn't help but stare in awe. I looked him over thoroughly for the first time and noticed just how different he looked; His hair all white and straight and his beard shorter.

"How are you feeling?" He asked me.

It took me a few seconds to respond, as I was still distracted by the miracle of his very presence. I told him that it would be a long time before I was allowed any more medicine and that I was feeling poorly. Ryndil excused himself the room and left me and Gandalf to continue our conversation.

"Oh, Gandalf… I'm so glad you're here." I told him and he patted my hand.

"And I am very glad you're here, Frodo. You have been so brave. You have done what I could not have."

"Sam's the one." I said more solemnly, "I wouldn't have made it at all without him." I said.

"I meant not to discount him." He assured me, "He is courageous and deserving of much praise, but you mustn't discount yourself. You don't realise how very strong you are."

I looked away, embarrassed by his complimentary remark. I was not strong. I felt so undeserving of such a statement. I remembered what I did at the Crack of Doom- how I failed- how I stood there and betrayed Sam. I betrayed the fellowship. I had ultimately betrayed all of Middle Earth and though the ring was destroyed in the end, I felt great guilt over my failure. Gandalf could not have known what happened there and I didn't want to tell him, but felt ashamed for not. He noticed my uneasiness over the topic and changed the subject to one much less dark. We spoke for some time and eventually Ryndil slipped back into the room with my lunch- which was, needless to say, more broth. I insisted on feeding myself, as I was feeling a little stronger and was growing frustrated by my uselessness. It seemed a major victory to be able to do this simple task without spilling it all over myself, and Ryndil was pleased with the amount I was able to eat. Gandalf stayed for a long time and his conversations helped distract me from my discomfort.

With this improvement, it seemed I would be back to myself in no time at all, however, as time went on, the pain grew worse and worse. In fact, some hours later, after Gandalf had gone, it seemed nothing; no amount of talking, nor reading, nor entertainment of any sort could distract me from the ever growing misery I was being pulled into by my throbbing injuries.

Ryndil had left me and returned later with some ice chips in a pouch.

He opened my shirt and warned me of the temperature, then placed it on the affected area of my chest.

It helped somewhat, but the pain continued so that all I wanted to do was to lie silent and still.

"…What time is it?" I uttered with a frown.

Ryndil looked to the clock and spoke:

"Just half past four."

When he told me this I almost felt like crying.

Three and a half more hours. How would I ever stand it?

It seemed something was on Ryndil's mind as he grew pensive.

"Frodo- Are you awake?" He asked.

I opened my eyes and looked at his as an answer.

"Listen… I'm going to have you do something, and you won't like it, but it is for your own health and well-being." He said, slowly stepping closer, "Before we start though, you must remember that I will never force you to do anything that causes you pain unless it is absolutely necessary." He said, his brows furrowed.

The ominous nature of his words gave me an instant sense of foreboding. He approached me and I clenched my muscles in anticipation of pain, having no idea what to expect, but he only sat me up and stacked pillows behind my back. It hurt to sit so straight, as it put a lot of pressure on my ribs, but I tried to cooperate without whingeing. He took away the cold pouch and sat in the chair and spoke;

"I need you to take some very deep breaths."

My eyes widened and I looked at him like he was insane.

"I can't. I can hardly breathe as it is." I argued.

"I'm sorry, but you must. I've put it off for a long time because I knew you were in pain, but I dare not put it off any longer." He told me.

"But- Why?"

"So that you won't develop pneumonia. This is very important Frodo, if you develop pneumonia in your current state, it could- I dare not risk it. It could be very, very bad."

I looked away anxiously and sighed in defeat, knowing what I had to do.

"How about if you take some breaths, I'll get you some warm tea and stir in a little honey and milk. How does that sound?"

It did sound rather nice, and tea had always helped to settle my stomach when I was feeling poorly. I surrendered, nodding, and he gave a quick smile.

"Alright now. Take in a slow, deep breath." He told me.

I did as he said, and was overcome with pain as I knew I would be. The instant my lungs had filled with air, he spoke hastily.

"Hold it- Hold your breath for a few seconds."

I looked to him, awaiting his further instructions.

"…Alright, exhale, now. Slowly."

I breathed out and groaned.

"Again." He instructed.

I repeated the process and clenched my fists so tightly they began to shake.

"Good. Again."

I obeyed him again, but this time I was just about ready to give up. It felt like a knife in my chest with each breath, and I wasn't sure how much more I could stand.

"Take another breath."

I began to inhale, but I expelled the air before my lungs could fully inflate.

"I can't do it anymore." I said, piteously.

"I know it hurts, but you're going to be alright. Come on, try again."

It took everything in me to face the pain of just one more. I inhaled as much air as I could, and again, pain shook my frame. I held in the air as he had directed, then exhaled and began to cough violently.

"There you are… Good…" He said.

I did not see what could be good about coughing like that. There was silence for a moment as I shallowly panted and groaned, then he spoke again;

"Just once more. It's almost over." He said, encouragingly, but my pain was intense- it was nearly unbearable and I felt as if might die if I so much as moved.

"I can't-" I gasped.

"Once more." He said, insistently.

I shook my head and clutched my chest.

"...I'm going to be sick."

Once I told him this, he became very concerned and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm me.

"No, you're not." He said, placing his hand on my shoulder, "Just relax."

I tried to, but the pain made my stomach churn and I felt extremely nauseated.

"Listen, It's alright, you don't have to take any more deep breaths, you've done well." He said, with masked urgency.

A chill ran down my spine and I became very cold. I began to shiver, yet I was sweating. I shut my eyes and tried as hard as I could to block out the queasy feeling in my stomach and the acute ache that radiated throughout my body, but no amount of sheer will could ease my symptoms. I began to salivate and told Ryndil of all this and he took me into the bathroom.

I got sick twice within half an hour. I felt unspeakably horrid, beyond anything I could ever hope to describe. Ryndil sat by me on the floor all the while and rubbed my back. Once I felt I was done being ill, he picked me up and carried me back to bed. I was completely exhausted and the muscles in my abdomen were sore from contracting. I shifted so that I lay on my right side and I drew my knees up as far as I could, but Ryndil turned me onto my back again. He opened my shirt and felt my ribs, as he was worried I may have dislocated the other fractures by being sick. When he finished the examination, I curled up on my right side again before he could even button my shirt, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Someone knocked on the door a few minutes later, but I told Ryndil I didn't want to see anyone, and he understood why. He stepped outside briefly to explain that I wasn't well enough to see whomever had come.

It must've been about an hour that passed, as I faced what seemed to be the worst pain yet. I had turned to lie on my stomach, as, oddly enough, it seemed to be more comfortable for my ribs. Ryndil had gone to sit on the chaise across the room, as there was nothing he could do for me but remain nearby in case I had any request, and I heard the turn of a book page every now and then. Eventually the sound stopped and I wondered if he had fallen asleep, but I couldn't see him. I could not get my mind off of the writhing pain in my body. I clenched the pillows in my fists until I became weak and desperately hoped the time would pass quickly.

My mind began to wander and I closed my eyes, nearly falling asleep, but was held back from it by the aches. By now I was numb and prostrate with no fight left in me. I imagined I heard a faint knock on the door, but heard nothing more. I must've fallen asleep for a few seconds.

"Mister Frodo?"

I heard Sam's voice and struggled to pull myself back to reality.

"Frodo? Are you awake?" Sam whispered.

I opened my eyes and set them on him.

"You're walking…" Was the first thing I thought to say.

"Yes, I'm feeling a might better today." He said with a smile, which he replaced for a concerned and sympathetic expression.

"I hear you've had a pretty rough day, though…"

I couldn't strain my eyes to look at him anymore, so I shut them. I felt him sit down beside me on the bed and place his hand on my back.

"You're not feeling any better?" He asked.

I weakly shook my head. It didn't seem to hurt as much to keep completely still, so I did just that, and breathed shallowly.

"When can you have more medicine, do you know?"

It took me several seconds before I felt like opening my mouth to respond. I told him eight o' clock.

"Hey, it's just past six thirty!" He said, encouragingly, looking at the clock, "It's not long at all now. It'll be eight before you know it."

He gave my back a gentle pat. I opened my eyes again and stared at the blankets.

"...Oh, Sam... It hurts so badly…" I said, with an eerie numbness.

"I know... It hardly seems fair, but... They say everything happens for a reason, you know... And I expect this is all a part of a bigger picture we just can't see yet." He said, softly.

He sat by me silently, feeling helpless as he watched me suffer. A few minutes passed, and he began to pray over me aloud. He asked humbly that the pain be lifted from me and that I would find healing in my body and in my mind. His prayer was so genuine and selfless it brought tears to my eyes.

Sam stayed with me, offering words of encouragement and telling me the time every now and then to keep me going. Amazingly, within half an hour, it seemed Sam's very prayer was answered, as the pain had begun to quell and I was able to breathe more comfortably. He was thrilled to hear of my improvement and reminded me again that it was only about one more hour until eight. I don't know how he kept from being bored, as all I did was lie there, unmoving, rarely uttering a word; but he did not leave my side but once to light a candle nearby.

The hands of the clock slowly made their way around the face, and once they finally were within reaching the eight, Sam called over to Ryndil.

"Ryndil, sir, it's about eight o'clock now!"

Ryndil got to his feet and came to me. He slipped his hands under my arms and turned me onto my back, and then filled a spoon with the medicine while quickly glancing at me.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded and he put down the bottle, then lifted my head and brought the dose to my mouth. I took it eagerly and could hardly get it down my throat quickly enough for my liking. Words can not describe the relief I felt at being allowed the dose. I had made it all day without it, and now I would finally be able rest comfortably.

"You've been very brave, Frodo. I'm proud of you." Ryndil said, corking the bottle.

Sam gave my wrist a pat.

"You did it!" He whispered, smiling.

The medicine quickly took effect, and my pain began to melt away. Within minutes, I was disoriented and groggy, but it felt so wonderful to have relief from the crushing pain, I really couldn't have cared less about the disorientation.

Ryndil changed my bandages again and put another log on the dying fire. The medicine affected me in such a way that I could think well enough to speak and be understood, but the way that I spoke was often a bit incoherent and unlike what I would ordinarily say. Although it didn't occur to me at the time, much of what I said was quite humorous in retrospect.

"Are you tired, Frodo?" Ryndil asked.

"Yes... Very…" I replied.

"Would you like to retire for the night?"

"Yes, that way I can be awake tomorrow… You should sleep too... I swear you haven't slept the whole time I've been here. Are you an elf?" I said.

"I've slept." He said, with a chuckle, "I suppose I could stay here tonight if you'd rather not be alone." He said, motioning toward the chaise across the room.

"It hardly seems comfortable…" I said, "But... I would not rather- um... I'd rather would not- ...to be alone, I think…"

I raised my eyebrow at my own jumbled words.

"I'll stay again if you'd like." Sam offered.

"You don't mind?" I asked.

"No, not at all."

Ryndil helped me move over so there was room, and Sam climbed into the bed with some effort. Ryndil made sure we were comfortable before he blew out the candles and headed toward the door.

"I will be back to check on you both in a few hours. Will you be alright until then?" Ryndil asked.

"I should hope to be asleep until morning." I said.

"Samwise?" Ryndil said, his hand resting on the doorknob.

"Oh, yes, sir. I'll be just fine, I think."

"Alright, then. And I suspect Darrion, your healer, probably has no idea you've left your room?" Ryndil said, looking to Sam.

"Uh... Well... I guess I was told to stay in bed…" Sam said, a little embarrassed.

"Then I'll tell him where you are." Ryndil said, smiling, "You can take a spoonful of that syrup in the little blue bottle beside you if you need something to help you sleep, but don't give anything to Frodo."

"Yes, sir."

"Good-night." Ryndil said.

Sam and I told him good-night and he left the room.

It took a fair amount of adjusting for me to find a position to lie in that wasn't excessively irritating to my injuries, and I eventually ended up on my stomach again with a few pillows strategically tucked under my body and arm to alleviate pressure.

"I'm going to take the whole bed for myself again, I'm afraid… And push you off, and I'm sorry." I told Sam.

He chuckled and settled into the covers.

"G'night, Frodo."

"Good-night, Sam."