A/N: Hey everyone! This is my fic, my first fic, may I add, so please be merciful, oh talented writers. Puuuuuurleeeeeeeeeease read and review and tell me if you would like to know what happens next, but NO flaming. NO slash (gah…I will NEVER write slash…) intended, no swearing, no sex, fairly simple. Enjoooooy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of the characters mentioned. I would like to own them, but I don't.

Friends From the Past

Frodo was awake, but was lying with his eyes gently closed as the warm sunlight flowed through the gap in the curtains. Sam hooked them back and smiled. Frodo was looking better; the colour had returned to his cheeks and his breathing was gentle. A far cry from the sobbing, nightmare stricken hobbit he had been last night, the night of October the sixth. Frodo's eyes fluttered open as Sam settled himself on the floor next to Frodo's bed.

"Morning Sam…"said Frodo with a yawn.

"Beggin' your pardon, but it's a bit late for that! Why, it's a good couple of hours past midday!" Laughed Sam. Although it was about two o'clock in the afternoon, Frodo hadn't gotten to sleep until the sun was up. Sam was so relieved; he always was when Frodo recovered from illness. Frodo shifted himself with relative ease into a sitting position and accepted the glass of water waiting for him on his bedside table. After a few sips, he set the cup down and grinned at his close friend.

"Everyone's arriving today. Aragorn and the rest." Just then, a lovely smell…something roasted…wafted through the door. "And I can smell dinner!" This was all very true. Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir and Eowen were indeed coming down to the Shire for five weeks to visit their hobbit friends. Having made their way to Bree, they had been picked up (hopefully) by Frodo's cousins Merry and Pippin in a horse and cart, and were on their way to Hobbiton.

"How are you feelin' now?" Sam asked. Occasionally, but not always, Frodo was still a bit ill on the seventh.

"Much better, Sam. Thank you." His grin suddenly relaxed, self-annoyance was burning in his eyes.

"Last night…I woke up screaming again didn't I? I woke you…"

"Frodo, don't – " But the memory of the night before was flooding back into the ring bearer's mind. He remembered Sam and Rosie rushing into the room, panicking, thinking something awful had happened…and it had all just been a silly dream…

"Tell Rosie I'm sorry, did she get back to sleep again?"

"Frodo, stop it," said Sam gently, taking Frodo's hand, "You were so ill, Rosie understood! Do you know, the first thing she asked me this morning is whether you got back to sleep? Now cheer up, would Aragorn want to see you sad?"

Sam had never seen Frodo so excited. Not since the ring, anyway. Frodo still suffered, but now he had gotten back into his old hobbies of dancing and singing. Good, considering he did not have time to dwell on the horrors of the quest so much during the daytime. They built up in the back of his mind and, when his let down his defences to relax and go to sleep, they attacked like a thousand orcs. All Sam could do was sit and try to comfort his friend, his brother, for that was what Frodo was like to Sam.

Frodo was up and dressed quicker that usual, and went to sit in the kitchen. Rosie was busy making some kind of dessert that already looked very chocolaty, much to his delight. He was about to open the book in his hand, when, without warning, in bounded little Eleanor Gamgee in a flurry of bouncing curls and ribbon.

"Uncle Fodo!" She squealed, attacking her godfather. Frodo chuckled and obligingly lifted the four-year-old onto his lap.

"Dada said you were poorly, Uncle Fodo! Are you better now?"

"Yes my sweet, Uncle Frodo is feeling much better now." Said Frodo with a smile as Sam walked in. "You can tell Dada there is no need to worry." Frodo caught his best friend's eye, and they shared a warm smile.

"Where could they be, Sam?"

It was almost midnight, but Frodo and Sam were still wide-awake and waiting for the arrival of their friends. They should have arrived hours before, during the late afternoon, leaving the two hobbits very worried, and Frodo was now close to tears. Luckily most of the earlier-prepared food would keep another day, and had been returned to the pantry. Sam himself had to try and keep back his own tears of frantic worry. He knew what was going through Frodo's head; his parents had promised him they would return that night, but they had drowned… Gandalf promised he would meet them in Bree, he never did, and they had gone on without him to the encounter at Weathertop…

Sam snapped himself out of it. If he started crying, Frodo would get upset to.

"They're probably only a little way away Mr. Frodo, we just can't see them because it's dark." Just as he said that, thunder clapped in the distance, and in a matter of minutes the rain was coming down like nothing Sam had ever seen before. Frodo stared out into the darkness and wet for a few moments before slipping away from the window and collapsing onto the sofa, defeated.

"They'll never get through that! Oh Sam, what if something's happened to them?"

Sam didn't know what to say. He sat down quietly beside Frodo and put his arm around him, hoping it would bring some comfort. Frodo curled up into a ball at Sam's side and closed his eyes. He was so tired, the energy of excitement had worn off hours ago and his lack of sleep the night before was catching up on him.

"You're shattered, Mr. Frodo. Have a rest."

Frodo was already asleep.