This short passage was written by my sister, and she's given me permission to upload it. Enjoy! ~ Nightskyadventures
Before dawn, in the wan, grey mist of morrowdim, I opened my eyes. The room spun round at first, the low light undulating about me. I was washed in a numb sort of pain. I didn't remember much of the night that had passed, save for the absolute terror that had plagued me. It had been so real... fire everywhere, eating away at the bedposts, the curtains, the rug - all-consuming fire covering everything! Now I realised it must have been a dream. Nothing was burnt. It was absolutely quiet. Even the fire in the fireplace had died down to pink, ashy embers. In the silence, I could hear a faint breath, slow and steady, near. I shifted and discovered that it was Aragorn; crumpled into a heap next to me, his face half-buried in the coverlet, his arm up and his fingers loosely clasping my shoulder.
"Frodo, I am here. I will not leave you. I have you, do you understand?"
I remembered his words from the night before. His voice had been so emphatic as to rival shouting. He had seemed so far away then, lost in the flames... red flames that were leaping through the dark.
Now he slept as though his energy was expended - as if he had collapsed unexpectedly. It was cold in the room and his hand felt like ice through my shirt. He looked so spent that, even in my cloudy confusion, I did not wish to wake him. Instead I reached for an extra blanket rolled up beside me and unfurled it over his back. With a sharp inhale, he flinched, jerking his head up so abruptly that I was startled.
"Frodo?" he mumbled, with concern.
"It's alright. I'm alright." I responded quietly, "Go back to sleep."
He hesitated for a moment, eyeing me in the half-darkness.
"If you need help…"
"I know." I assured him, "I'm alright. Please."
At this prompting, he curled his arms beneath his head and surrendered to sleep again. I tried to, but the soreness of my arms and legs dissuaded me from it. Rather than sleep, I watched over him. When Ryndil entered my chambers with the first beams of dawn, I lifted a finger to my lips to beg his silence. He halted his footsteps, taking in the scene with interest; seeming at first worried, but then delighted to see Aragorn resting at last. Ryndil kept his distance, tending the fireplace quietly until new logs roared to life on the grate. Soon it would be warm again - but in the meantime I huddled, shivering under the covers. The healer came to me from my left, keeping clear of the ranger at my right, to noiselessly test my pulses and feel my forehead for fever. Seeming satisfied, he retrieved his book from the table and seated himself upon the chaise nearby, taking up his vigil. Knowing he was there to look after us, I found it easier to give in to sleep - for I was truly exhausted - and before long, I was slipping away too.