Pain. That was the last thing Frodo remembered
clearly. The terrifying figure of the Witch King
standing over him, his face dead white and ravished
by decay had almost paralyzed him with fear. Almost,
but not quite. Many thoughts flashed through Frodo's
mind at that moment, but what really struck him was
what would happen to his friends if he were killed.
The Nazgul would take the Ring, and then probably go
after them too. Frodo knew he couldn't let this
happen.

As the Witch King drew his Mordor knife, Frodo's
fingers tightened around his sword and he lunged
forward as the Nazgul struck at his heart. This
unexpected resistance had no doubt saved him from
being killed instantly, but Frodo almost regretted
that as the knife plunged into his shoulder. The
freezing, burning pain was worse than anything he
could have imagined and grew worse every second.
Frodo was certain he could never forget it.
Amazingly, however, he did seem to be forgetting it. A short
time after his stabbing, he found himself reflecting
on the attack with a curious detachment, like a
nightmare after waking. He had done the right thing
in resisting the Nazgul, but now that Strider the
Ranger had driven them off, he felt reasonably certain
his friends were safe and all he needed to do was hold
on to his own life.

Your life is over, a voice seemed to whisper in the
dark. Give it up now and be at peace for all
eternity.

Frodo was startled. Was it true? Had the Witch King
killed him after all? No, he realized somehow that
his life was still in his own hands. For how long he
had no idea, but at this point the decision was his.
It was a strange feeling, having the choice of life
and death before him. As Frodo considered this, he
began to get the strangest feeling that this had
happened to him before. Of course, that was
impossible. Or was it? At that moment, an incident
from the past came to his mind. Memories of pain and
terror, albeit for an important reason, and finally
the choice between consciousness and shock, leading to
possible death.
********************
Frodo and Bilbo had just finished preparing for a big
Yule celebration. They had spend the whole day
cooking, baking and decorating Bag End, but now
everything seemed ready for their guests. The holiday
roast was cooking, the cakes had been frosted and
trays of candied fruit, cheese, crackers and spreads
were prepared, ready to be placed on the small tables
in the sitting room.

"Would you like me to take these in now?" Frodo asked,
pointing to the refreshments.

"No, Frodo, you've done enough," Bilbo told him. "You
can sit down and rest."

Accordingly, Frodo went into the sitting room to rest
until the first of their visitors arrived. He smiled
as he looked around; everything seemed perfect. A
large fire was blazing in the fire place, making the
room bright and comfortable and a copper top filled
with tea gleamed on a small wood stove. Sparkling
peppermint scented candles burned on the mantles, the
pine boughs that decorated the walls filled the room
with their fragrance and the bright red and gold
ribbons they were tied with made the room look very
festive. There was a knock on the door, however,
before Frodo had much time to admire everything.
Smiling, he went out to see the guests.

"Fwodo, Fwodo!" a small voice cried excitedly. Frodo
looked down and saw a sandy haired hobbit toddler
running towards him.

"Well hello, Pippin! It's so good to see you again!"
Frodo exclaimed, scooping Pippin up and giving him a
kiss and a hug. After Pippin's family had been
greeted and they all made their way into the sitting
room, a large box of toys quickly caught Pippin's
attention.

"You play with me?" Pippin asked, looking eagerly at
his cousin, then at the toys.

"Maybe later, Pippin, I feel a bit tired right now,"
Frodo told him, "but if you like I can tell you some
stories."

"No. I play now," Pippin exclaimed, sliding off
Frodo's lap and proceeding to toss a big red ball
around the room.

"He certainly is an active child," Bilbo commented, as
they watched Pippin's high spirited games.

"You have no idea!" his mother laughed.

Pippin dashed around the room after his ball,
shrieking with excitement. Unfortunately, his game
brought him closer to the wood stove before anyone
realized it. Another toy on the other side of the
room caught Pippin's attention and because of the
distraction, he lost his balance and fell forward.

"Pippin! No!" Frodo cried, jumping up and flinging
himself between his small cousin and hot stove.

Pippin was knocked backwards, out of harm's way but
Frodo's clothes got singed instantly and then flared
up. Frodo stared in horrified disbelief as Bilbo
doused him a large bucket water that was always kept
as a precaution, even though no one thought it would
actually be used.

Frodo fell to the ground and saw Pippin out the corner
of his eye, badly frightened but apparentally unhurt
otherwise . It was then that he became aware of his own
injuries. The adrenalin coursing his body
had temporarily kept him from feeling any pain, but
the burns on his right side and hip were now becoming
so painful he thought he would pass out and at the
same time, he wished he could. He clenched his teeth
together to keep from screaming as Bilbo carried him
into a bedroom to tend to him until a healer could be
found.

Frodo's vision seemed to fade and he began to get
light-headed when Bilbo laid him on the bed and
carefully began to cut the burned clothing off him.
He could hear the sound of herbal tea being prepared
to ease his pain and he felt Bilbo cover his burns
with a cool, wet sheet, but somehow it no longer
seemed real to him. The pain was still there, but
his reaction to it lessened. He wondered at that time
if he was going to die. Dying might not be a bad
thing, he reasoned to himself. The pain would be gone
for good and he wouldn't relive this awful accident in
his memory.

As his will to live began to slip, however, he became
aware of another presence in the room and he heard
someone crying, faintly at first but now the sound was
clear and unmistakable. Opening his eyes, he saw
Pippin, who had slipped in unnoticed and was sitting
on the bed next to him. Pippin was visibly
trembling, his face frightening pale with tears
pouring from his eyes. Frodo's heart nearly broke at
the sight of this and he realized he had to hold on,
for Pippin's sake if nothing else. Forcing himself
to stay awake and smile, he reached up and stroked
Pippin's face gently.

"Don't cry, Pip," he whispered. "Everything is going
to be all right."
*************

Fortunately the healer had arrived quickly and treated
Frodo's injuries to prevent infection and scarring
didn't become excessive. Frodo thought about this
every time he looked at his right hip and side. That
was an awful experience and no mistake, but he would
do again it in a heartbeat. He didn't dare think what
would have happened to Pippin otherwise. Would he
have the strength to resist the Nazgul again, he
wondered. Yes, he would find it although he had no
clear idea where it would come from. For now however,
the question was did he want to live. Yes, Frodo
decided, he did. He remembered how devastating his
first injury was to his family and he certainly didn't
want to put them through that again. Besides, Gandalf
had him given a job to do. It was his responsibility
to take the One Ring to Rivendell.

Suddenly, a rush of air filled his lungs making him
gasp painfully. His eyes shot open. The first thing
he saw was Strider kneeling beside him with both his
hands on Frodo's chest. The next thing was Sam and
Merry falling to knees, their expressions a mixed of
shock and relief.

"Mr. Frodo! You're alive!" he heard Sam cry.

"Thank goodness!" Merry breathed. "We all thought we
lost you!"

"What happened?" Frodo asked. This was a lot for his
mind to process so quickly.

"Your heart stopped for over a minute," Strider told
him. "I was able to re-start it by breathing for you
and giving you chest compressions but frankly, that
very seldom works. This is a miracle, no question
about it."

"My heart stopped?" Frodo went limp with horror. He
should be dead, he realized. Then he remembered, he
had chosen life, and he was glad he as did looked up
at his friends and saw the joy and relief on their
faces. As Strider unbuttoned his shirt however, to
gently check his ribs and see if the compressions had
damaged them, Frodo noticed something alarming:
Pippin was no where to be seen.

"Where is.... ?" Frodo's eyes darted around anxiously
looking for him, then he sighed with relief as Strider
brought Pippin to his side.

"He was off by himself, a short distance from the
fire," the Ranger explained. "This was all too much
for him, no doubt."

Pippin was frighteningly pale and visibly trembling
with tears pouring from his eyes. Frodo seeing this,
smiled with feeling, reached up and stroked Pippin's
face gently.

"Don't cry, Pip," he whispered. "Everything is going
to be all right."