For a moment, all Frodo could see was the unending space of darkness. That's all he could see and yet, there was laughter. Shrewd, wicked laughter in high and low pitches. His eyes opened. He was still alive and in a ballroom with gold walls and bannisters, revealing a grand staircase from one end of the room to the other. Silk drapes garnished the grand tall windows. But down on the gold tiled floor, there were tables set up with food and drink.

Frodo was so hungry. He rushed over to one of the tables, picked up an appetizer, complete with a pickle on top and some green cream on the cracker, ate the morsel and… he nearly threw up the contents.

"What's in that?" He asked, woozily, a second after he finished downing the cracker with red wine. At least, he thought it was red wine. It almost tasted like… heave heaved out the contents now onto the floor, a splatter of orange liquid rushing out in front of him.

"That would be blood," said a formal masculine voice. Frodo turned around, finding himself face to face with a black-haired man draped in a black cloak, complete with a black cowl. "I am Dracula. Welcome to my lair."

"I am not a vampire," Frodo admitted. "I know there are vampires in Middle-earth, but I'm not…"

"You talk too much," said a fair woman, dressed in white.

"Maybe you would like to dance with Veronica. I hear she is available," Dracula said.

"But I shouldn't…" Frodo was pulled onto the dance floor by Veronica. He couldn't help it. He was drawn to her. She was so lively, so pure… he could smell fresh, wet blood in her skin. He wanted to… no. He threw his head back. He wasn't aware they were dancing, but he couldn't… he mustn't… he wasn't a vampire… unless… no…

"Come on!" Frodo's dark half said. Frodo looked up at him. He was dressed so formally, it almost made Frodo sick again. Not the clothes, but how his dark half could act like everything was all right. "Come on." His dark half repeated at the top of one of the stairs.

"Excuse me," Frodo told Veronica, softly.

"But Frodo…" Veronica was cut off. Frodo raced up the stairs, only they were moving higher and higher, and further away. The marble on the staircase nearly caused him to trip and collapse. He had to get out of there. And yet… the candlestick. The gold vigor candlestick. He picked it up and threw it at the mirror… it shattered…

Frodo threw his arms over his head for a second. Glass pieces reached his feet. He looked up now. The way was clear. He raced further up the stairs. He made it to the top step. There was the second floor, draped in gold, white and black rose wreaths. There were mirrors everywhere he turned. How could there be mirrors? He just smashed one…

"And awoke the other mirrors," Frodo's dark half's voice penetrated his thoughts.

"Where are we?" Frodo asked him.

"Don't you know? Don't you realize why we've come? Why this dream can't end yet?" his dark half asked, as they entered a darkened room with only one mirror, resting in a silver arched frame. His dark half pulled him up to the mirror, as it revealed the heroes' stories being meshed and transformed. "Haven't you figured it out yet? Why you haven't killed the only ring in this room? Why it's so easy for you to fall into darkness? Haven't you discovered why you can't get rid of me that easily?"

Frodo understood. The battles he'd been facing… he remembered it now… he remembered all of it. He poured through so many stories that day in the Beast's castle. He just wanted to see what would happen if he… messed with one, even his own.

"It's me," Frodo said in realization. "I caused this."

"Yes," his dark half said, brandishing a polished wood crossbow, directed at Frodo's heart. "And now I have to kill you." He admitted, "Come on. We wouldn't want to see you alive, and me… well, I get to live on."

"How do those Jedi do it?" Frodo whispered, trying to make sense of it all. "They don't run. They fight because they have to. But I won't fight you."

"What?" his dark half asked, confused.

"I won't fight you. I'm a hero after all," Frodo said.

"Ha! A hero. Yeah right," his dark half said, enticed. "I've seen what you do. How you failed to destroy the ring. But it doesn't matter. This arrow will pierce your heart."

"I won't fight you," Frodo said, closing his eyes, "but I am ready for what comes next."

He kept his eyes closed. The arrow twanged, heading closer to him. Then it was gone. The colors changed. He opened his eyes. His dark half wasn't there, but he was in a white space. An endless void of white, complete with a white tiled floor. Where had he landed? He didn't recall this being part of his efforts to save the stories. He knew now this was his mess. He needed to clean it up.

"Frodo," said a calm voice.

Frodo turned around, meeting the gazes of the Blue Fairy, a wizard robed in white who he could only assume was Gandalf, and another figure wearing a white toga. How were they here?

"You've done wonderfully, Frodo," Gandalf said, applauding him.

"I didn't do that much," Frodo said.

"Didn't do that much?" the Blue Fairy said.

"The stories have been saved, thanks to your efforts," said the man in the toga. "My name is Zeus."

Frodo smiled. He couldn't help it. It was as if all those stories were coming true. How did that happen? It didn't happen very often, now did it?

"I remember you from one of myths," Frodo spoke up.

Zeus laughed. "Of course you did." He pointed out, "Well, for your efforts, I bring you a gift, before you return home."

"What gift?" Frodo asked, confused. Pacing himself, he wandered past the Greek God, Gandalf, and the Blue Fairy. He gasped in awe, stunned to find two brown haired hobbits staring at a puddle. They looked up when he called out to them, "Mum. Dad." He rushed up to them, embracing them as if he hadn't seen them for ages. Well, it certainly seemed that way. And yet, he managed to get a few minutes' conversation with them.

"You have to go back now, don't you Frodo?" Primula asked, saddened.

"Yes. I have to see how my friends are doing," Frodo admitted, doing his best to hold back the tears.

"Hey Frodo," Drogo said, getting his son's attention, "You'll see us again. I promise you will." Frodo fell into another embrace with his parents. Yes, it was time to leave.

Frodo approached Zeus, telling him, promptly, "I'm ready to go back."

"Your friends are waiting for you," Zeus said, revealing a wooden door. "Good luck, Frodo."

"Thank you," Frodo said, rushing up to his parents one last time to hug them and kiss his mother. With that done, he followed Zeus over to the door, opened it and found himself back in the cave. It was dark here and… oh no. The door vanished. He was alone again. He heaved in a few short breaths, before climbing out of the cave and greeted by all his friends from various stories. The story books could be seen circling the area. But Frodo didn't care. He found his friends again, embracing all of them. And that was what was important to him the most. He couldn't have asked for better.