Those eyes are open, but they have lost their vibrant blue. As a matter of fact, they are not blue at all. They are pallid, blanched, dead and … threatening.

Sam gasps. The figure in the bed appears to be his master, Frodo, yet it radiates an unloving soul completely unlike his dear Mr. Frodo’s in any way. The hobbit is awake, leaning back on piles of pillows, staring hard at the gardener who is sitting straight in his chair, keeping watch over him through countless days and nights. The figure is staring, unseeing.

Sam’s breathing becomes ragged as his master grasps the blanket covering him and tosses it roughly to the side. There are no visible signs of weakness or suffering in the hobbit who now stands erect on the other side of the bed and then starts toward the door at a half – run.

“Mr. Frodo!” Sam chokes out. The figure halts, then turns toward him, as if recognizing the name as his own but refusing to claim it. Frodo freezes for a moment, then all too quickly resumes his flight.

“Mr. Frodo, no!”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ In a healing Chamber at the House of Elrond, Rivendell ~

“Sam, wake up!” Merry shook Sam by the shoulder again, rather violently this time, as Sam failed to acknowledge his presence. “It was just a dream. Come on, Sam, wake up!”

There was a slight stirring of the body curled up in the oversized bed, apart from the trembling that Merry had become familiar with. Eyelids flew open, revealing eyes not blue, but grey, and filled with fear.

“No, Mr. Frodo. You can’t go away. You can’t become one of them, please!” Sam muttered thickly still oblivious to Merry stooping over him.

“Sam! No one here is going to become a wraith.” Merry’s patience was growing thin. “At least they won’t if you wake up soon.”

“Mr. Merry?” Sam raised himself up on his elbows as he tried to clear the fog from his mind. “What do you mean? You’re not foolin’ me, are you?” Sam saw a mixture of relief and concern in Merry’s features.

“Of course I’m not, sleepyhead! Our Frodo is awake now, but he’s still terribly weak. How could you manage to sleep, Sam? He needs you now, more than he’s ever needed you before.”

Sam flushed, embarrassed. He cursed himself for his carelessness, but Merry’s apparent scorn irritated him. This was the first rest he had allowed himself after several sleepless nights. Merry and Pippin, on the other hand, had been instantaneously overcome by sleep the first night in Rivendell. Sam forced the negative feelings away out of politeness, and because he couldn’t help it. They weren’t a part of him, of Sam, the loyal friend and companion.

To Sam’s amazement, Merry was laughing.

“Ha! Look at your face, Sam! Do my words anger you so?” Merry kept laughing as Sam’s face continued to redden. “Do you think I’m seriously angry with you? Of course I know how faithfully you’ve tended to Frodo, even before he was awake. It was no more than a jest, but you are awake now, aren’t you?”

Sam smiled stiffly as Merry’s apparent impatience returned.

“Hurry, Sam! I don’t want to leave Frodo alone for long!”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Leaving Frodo alone was the last thing Merry needed to worry about, however, since no one was planning to leave him alone. Not now. Not in his unstable state. The mere discovery that he was alive was nearly enough to cause the hobbit to crumble. Frodo’s eyes opened to the sight of Gandalf sitting before the open window by his bed. As glad as Frodo was to see the wizard again and to be free of the appalling pain of the wraith world, Frodo was also in fear of the horrors that would surely follow his waking – Sauron’s torments.

Merry, with Sam and Pippin trailing behind, eagerly pushed open the door of Frodo’s room. All three were ready to burst in and fling themselves onto the bed in glad celebration until they beheld the heart – wrenching sight before them. Gandalf was covering his face with both hands and Frodo lay on his side, his back to Gandalf. Frodo’s hands shook visibly as they clutched at the hem of the blanket. His eyes were open wide, but he did not seem to see. Tears slid down his ashen cheeks freely, but Frodo did not seem to notice them either. He also failed to heed the presence of the three hobbits who stood like mute sculptures in the doorway.

Gandalf, too, seemed not to notice the newcomers as he finally lowered his hands and slowly crept to Frodo’s bed to touch his shoulder. Gandalf could feel Frodo flinch and it tore at his heart. The feeling that he had somehow betrayed the Ringbearer flooded through him, but he knew what he should do. Frodo could ask anything of him, but all he could do was ask. Gandalf might or might not be able to grant his requests, although he was certainly wise and the one appointed to give guidance in resisting the Dark Power.

Gandalf had recounted the tale of how the great eagle, Gwaihir, had borne him on his mighty wings to Rivendell. Gandalf meant it to be the lighter part of the story. The bird had wasted no time at all while Gandalf spoke heartening words to Frodo during the short journey. Gandalf hoped to see the old light of joy and interest in Frodo’s eyes at the mention of such an adventure, but he was disappointed.

“Frodo,” Gandalf whispered in the hobbit’s ear. “You must forgive me. There is still hope while you are alive. We cannot allow you to fall into shadow and become a wraith.”

Gandalf had realized that all hope was not lost as he witnessed Lord Elrond all but bringing Frodo back from the very brink of death with his healing skills. Still, Gandalf felt the need to further discuss the matter with the Elven lord further.

Frodo turned to Gandalf. His eyes shone with renewed terror, but lingering faith as well.

“There is nothing to forgive.” His voice was laced with despair. “I will do anything you say if you think there’s still hope for me.” Silently Frodo prayed that Sauron would not find a way to use Gandalf’s presence to torture him further.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ In the Dungeons of Sauron’s Fortress ~

Frodo barely realized what was happening to his body or anything around him. Dimly he remembered a searing pain as if he had been stabbed. Chills washed over him and he felt himself weakening, being drained completely.

The last thing he recalled was the fog floating before him idly, not even inflicting further pain upon him. It almost seemed unable to decide upon further action against him, seeing the state he was in.

The pain diminished somewhat and the chills faded. Frodo’s body warmed and his strength gradually seemed to return. But how? Why?

Opening his eyes with difficulty, Frodo wondered at the absence of all sensation other than the slow ebbing of the pain in his left shoulder. He did not hear Sauron or see the fog. Had the Dark Lord decided to let him be?

Fully awake, Frodo found himself sprawled on his stomach on the cold earthen floor. His mind slowly told him where he was. He was still in the dungeon of Sauron’s tower.

Frodo rose to his hands and knees slowly, shivering as the damp air clung to his bare upper body. Sudden terror overwhelmed him as his eyes locked with the threatening gazes of several orcs. They appeared equally surprised at Frodo’s sudden reappearance.

The orcs had been ordered not to move from that spot, and to keep an eye on something invisible. The order seemed senseless, but they dared not question it. Stranger still than being ordered to guard nothing was the moment when nothing became something and the hobbit became visible to them again! And it was alive, very much so. As the orcs recognized the fact they began to creep toward Frodo, who was shaking in earnest. Frodo stood and backed away, groping blindly at the wall behind him until he felt not earth or rock, but nothing, not even the metal door. His heart leaped with hope.

The door was open, leading into a dark passage. Frodo realized he knew nothing about the place. The opening could lead to freedom, or to some deadly labyrinth for all he knew. It could likely lead to death itself. Then again, could it be any worse than his present surroundings? He knew he had to try.

Casting a fearful look back at the leering orcs, Frodo gathered his determination. It was now or never. Ignoring the churning of his stomach and the whirling in his head, he scampered through the door.

Or so he thought.

Startled exclamations came from the orcs behind him as a small part of Frodo’s mind wondered what they saw, but only a small part. He gave the matter no further thought. He would not.

Or could not.

His mind was suddenly blank as Frodo tried to register why the previously pitch – black tunnel blazed suddenly bright as he turned around again, paralyzing him.

He did not feel the floor under his feet anymore.

He couldn’t find his voice as he tried to scream and a tight grip closed around his throat. His eyes slowly rolled back.

TBC