Author's Note:

I dont own any of the characters or places, they are all property of the Tolkien Estate, except for Tari, her horse Trifas and some minor characters over at the Prancing Pony, who were not mentioned in The Lord of the Rings. I dont make any money or profit whatsoever from my writing, I write simply because of my love of storytelling and The Lord of the Rings.

Special note on chapter 7: Though not as graphic as some of the fics posted on Frodo Healers, this chapter is a bit more graphic than my usual style. If you're sensitive to stomach ailments with all of its symptoms, I don't recommend you to read on. Consider yourself warned! ;-)

*Lots* of thanks and hugs for LilyBaggins, my proof reader!



***



7. Night

Cold... His whole body was stiff with cold, as if chilled to the bone...
Slowly he opened his eyes... only to find himself surrounded by an even more impenetrable darkness, as if he had gone blind... the air itself was nothing but a massive blackness, only reluctantly allowing him to draw it into his lungs.

Then suddenly, the silence was broken by a sound... a sound that made him freeze in fear. Battle. Steel against steel, high pitched screams, and the sickening thuds of bodies falling lifeless to the ground.

Covering his ears, he curled up into a ball, his stomach burning and twisting with pain. He felt his knee scraping against something in the darkness and knew immediately what it was... a damp, cold wall of stone... and despite his efforts, the sounds were just getting louder, coming closer...

"No... please..." he pleaded in a silent whisper. "Please, leave me alone... just let me sleep."

But all of a sudden, he could hear a voice speaking to him from far away. "Frodo... Frodo, it's all right... I
I'm right here, right here with you... just try to sleep now..."

He could have cried with relief. "Tari..." he said in a quivering whisper. "Where are you? Why is it so dark in here?"

"I'm right behind you, Frodo, dear," Tari's soft voice answered him, now appearing to get closer. "Just reach out your hand, and you'll see... there is nothing to be afraid of... I'm right here with you."

Barely able to control his shivering limbs, he finally managed to roll over, his stomach reeling in protest. Slowly, he reached out a trembling hand in the direction of the voice and sighed in relief when he felt her slender fingers clasping his.

But then a cold wind swept through the room, and he could feel it coming... starting as a faint hiss, escalating into an ear piercing, high pitched shriek... and suddenly, the hand that was clutching his was becoming visible, as if illuminated by a pale, hidden lamp. Though it was no longer the slender hand of his caretaker...

Desperately, he struggled to get free, but its grip only tightened, its foul claws cutting into his skin. And as the air filled with scorning laughter, he could feel the smell washing over him again ... the putrid stench of old orc-draught, old vomit, and filth.

***

"Frodo... Frodo, dear..."

Tari had been awoken by a loud whimper escaping her ailing charge, and it was obvious that he was now caught in a nightmare; tossing and turning while murmuring things unintelligible. The compress had slid down and was now covering his eyes. Nestling her hand up under the blanket, carefully rubbing his back and trying to wake him, Tari found that Frodo's nightshirt was damp with perspiration. "Frodo, its just a nightmare... you have to wake up... there now..."

But at her touch, Frodos back arched, and a split second later, he sat up abruptly with a cry, the compress dropping down into his lap. Tari carefully lifted her arm to put it around his shoulders, but to her dismay the hobbit pulled away, his eyes wide with fear and bewilderment. "N-no!!" he cried, his voice cracking and his breathing so rapid and shallow that he hardly appeared to get any air at all. "Go away!!! L-leave me alone!!!"

Thrashing wildly, Frodo sent the basin flying through the air, and it hit the footboard with a clanking sound. "D-don't touch me..." he wailed, pushing himself further away from her.

"Frodo..." Tari repeated. "It's all right... no one's going to hurt you... it's just you and I here... nothing is going to happen to you... easy now, it was just a nightmare..."

But the terrified hobbit did not even appear to have heard her. Huddling in the corner of the bed, he pulled his legs up tightly against his stomach, his face a mask of fear; his eyes gleaming in the light from the bedside lamp.

"Frodo..."

"No..." Frodo said in a weak voice, looking at her pleadingly, obviously seeing one of the hideous creatures from his nightmares in her place. Tari felt utterly helpless, knowing that there was little she could do until his confusion wore off but to continue talking soothingly, hoping that he eventually would hear her and allow her to comfort him. But then, all of a sudden, he stiffened, clutching his stomach. Drawing a trembling breath, he let out a long, agonized cry, his eyes rolling upward as his head dropped forward and he sagged.

Quickly uncurling his limp body, Tari placed him on his back. Turning his head aside, she elevated his legs and retrieved the basin again, placing it beside him. To her relief, just a few moments passed before the hobbit stirred, whimpering in pain; his eyes still closed, and his breathing once again becoming more rapid as he returned to consciousness.

Ripping off the top blanket from Frodos pile of covers, Tari hurriedly swept it around him and carefully eased him up on her lap, talking in a low and soothing voice. Frodo only let out a weak moan in protest as she cautiously rose, his body still limp. With swift feet she carried him over to the window, quickly pulling the curtains aside and pushing it open. She felt his body shivering as a rush of night air greeted them. The rain had now ceased, and as the clouds escaped, the temperature had dropped below the freezing point.

"It's all right, Frodo..." Tari said, gingerly easing the ailing hobbit out over the window frame and leaning him forward, supporting his head and his upper body with a hand on his forehead while the other arm softly wrapped around his chest, carefully avoiding his stomach. "I know it's cold, dear, and well tuck you back in in a moment... just try to take a few breaths... it will make you feel so much better... try to breathe now... deep breaths."

As Frodos vision slowly cleared, he at first had no idea of where he was or what was going on, remembering only fragments of what had just happened. His whole body ached and he was shivering with cold... but worst of all was his stomach... it felt as if someone had been kicking him in the middle of it. The throbbing pain was close to unbearable. The tangled mess of grass underneath him was all covered with frost, glistening in the pale moonlight, blurring his vision.

"Breathe, Frodo," Tari repeated.

Frodo tried to comply, so grateful for her presence that he could have wept... but yet, he could not fight back the feelings of guilt. He was always so much trouble... if it had not been for him, Tari would have spent her only night for weeks in a bed sleeping, lost in peaceful dreams... and now he was ruining it all. Maybe the other hobbits were having difficulties sleeping as well, just because they were worrying about him

Suddenly a wave of nausea swept over him, and he felt his hands grabbing the window frame as he swallowed profusely, shutting his eyes tightly, desperately trying to fight it off.

Feeling Frodo tense and sensing his discomfort, Tari carefully tightened her grip around his chest, moving in closer to be able to hold him steady. "It's all right," she said, feeling his brow breaking into a sweat. "Don't fight it... just let it come up, if you need to... keep breathing..."

Feeling another wave of nausea coming on, Frodo drew a shuddering breath... but this time he didnt have the strength to quell it. White spears of pain rushed through his stomach as he felt it tighten, trying to reject its contents. This attempt didn't bring up much, though, merely just some air and a mouthful of saliva, making his throat burn as if it was on fire.

"Shhh..." Tari soothed. "Just breathe... let it come up..."

A few moments later, the hobbit heaved once again, this time with more force. The sweat was trickling into his eyes, making them sting, and the sickening sound of the vomit splattering against the ground was feeding his urge to retch, as his stomach contracted over and over again.
Tari did her best to comfort him, but each time his body convulsed, the pain was so intense it almost made him wish to pass out again.

When it finally ended Frodo had lost all track of time. Limply he allowed Tari to pull him back inside and close the window.

"Poor boy," she soothed, cradling him close as she carried him back to the bed. He was still breathing in uneven gasps and shuddering from the aftershocks, his head leaning heavily against her chest.

Putting both pillows behind his back, she placed him in a semi-reclined position against the headboard, gently stroking his wet curls before walking over to the fire to fetch a glass of lukewarm water and the pile of washing cloths and towels. As she carefully helped him to rinse his mouth, the ailing hobbit remained silent, avoiding her eyes as if feeling ashamed.

"There now, Frodo," she began, pouring some cold water from the pitcher over a washing cloth and gingerly wiping his brow, his eyes, and finally his mouth. "You'll feel much better now when you've got rid of that, you'll see... does it still hurt?"

Frodo nodded weakly, but had no strength to reply; he could hardly hold his head up. But then, at the same moment, he felt his insides twisting again... no... please.... He clenched his teeth, trying to control himself... but it was going to be a losing battle, he had to go....

"What's the matter?" Tari asked in alarm before he had even opened his mouth.

"Chamber pot," he managed in a weak whisper, still unable to meet her eyes.

Before he even had finished the sentence, Tari had reached under the bed and brought out the chamber pot. Carefully easing her ailing charge from the pillows, she knelt down on the floor, lifting his nightshirt a little so he could sit down.

"I know I promised I'd step out," Tari began in an apologetic voice, "but I think you'd better..."

"I-I know..." Frodo managed weakly through his clenched teeth. "I'm so sorry, but..."

"Nothing to be sorry about, dear, you can't control it."

Gently supporting Frodos shivering body, encouraging him to lean against her, Tari rubbed his tiny back while her free hand soon found his left, waiting for the bout to pass. When it finally did, his head sagged again, and he started shivering violently, the nightshirt now soaked with perspiration.

"Poor boy..." Taris voice quivered with compassion as she kept on rubbing his back in wide, circular motions. "We'll tuck you in right away now... but I think we'd better clean you up a bit before... to make you more comfortable.... Is it all right for me to remove your nightshirt?"

Frodo managed a weak nod, allowing Tari to unbutton the nightshirt and pull it over his head. The fabric was so damp that she had to turn it inside out to unstick it from his arms. Putting the covers aside, she unfolded one of the large towels and laid it on the bed. Gingerly she lifted the shivering hobbit from the chamber pot and positioned him on his side, lying on the towel. Soon Frodo could feel the touch of a soft, damp washing cloth against his skin, and suddenly he realised that his eyes were threatening to run over. Swallowing hard, his throat dry and aching, he tried to fight it off.

Beginning with his backside, carefully washing her hands and changing cloths afterward, Tari tenderly stroke her small charges trembling limbs while humming a soft, soothing tune.

He looked so fragile... as if he had been suffering from a long, consuming illness... his body so thin that she could feel the gaps between the ribs even through the fabric of the washing cloth, and his skin was so pale that it reminded her of porcelain. Only his stomach had a slight roundness to it... but it looked highly unnatural---no doubt it was a side effect from the illness.

Softly turning him over on his back, Tari began to work her way down his chest. Noticing that he still avoided looking at her, she paused for a moment, gently placing her free hand on his forehead, entangling her fingers into the damp curls. Frodo sighed slightly, closing his eyes. "I-I'm so s-sorry..." he managed in a faint whisper.

"Frodo, dearest," Tari repeated, carefully beginning to stroke the upper part of his belly. "You can't help it... it's all right..."

But even the touch of the cloth on the swollen area made him gasp with pain, and Tari quickly withdrew her hand. "There now..." she said, suddenly hesitating for a brief moment and biting her lower lip before making her decision. Hanging the washing cloth on the edge of the basin, she sat down on the bed beside her ailing charge, and closing her eyes, she lifted both of her hands, placing them over his stomach and gingerly lowering them down so they barely touched his skin. Using all her force and energy, she focused on removing the pain. By now, Frodo must have figured out about her abilities... though it didn't matter, it didn't matter at all---she could not bear to see him suffer. But the pain ran deep, and she was nearly spent when she finally felt it easing off a bit.

At the same moment, she sensed a wave of emotions rushing through her small charges body as he drew a shivering breath and suddenly began to shake with sobs. Breaking her concentration at once, she removed her hands, easing him up on her lap, rocking him slowly while rubbing his back, as if he had been a small child.

"Your only n-night in a b-bed..." he started in a trembling whisper. "And I r-ruined it... I r-ruined it all... I'm so sorry a-... about everything..."

"Oh no, Frodo." Tari tightened her embrace around his small, shivering frame. "I said I was going to take care of you, no matter what... and I will."

"B-but I don't d-deserve it..." Frodo suddenly stiffened, as if he was about to pull out of her embrace. "If you knew wh-what I have done youd-youd never care about me... p-please l-leave me... p-please... just go... I d-dont deserve this..."

But Tari just held him, softly kissing the top of his head. "Oh, dearest," she whispered, feeling the tears sting behind her own eyelids. "It doesn't change anything... it doesn't change anything..."

Overcome with weariness, the shivering hobbit finally sagged in her arms, sobbing helplessly into her nightgown. Tari stroke his damp curls, rocking him gently while talking soothingly and rubbing his back until the sobs slowly subsided and his breaths became longer and deeper.
"There now, Frodo," she whispered softly into his ear. "We'll just tuck you in now... and then you'll sleep so much better... there now..."

Slowly putting him down again and placing his head on his pillow, she reached out for the spare nightshirt. Frodo was absolutely limp when she helped him get dressed, but he appeared to be just exhausted now---no longer in severe pain. She had hoped she would be able to coax him into drinking a little bit more of the ginger tea, but in his state of fatigue it would probably be better for him to go back to sleep as soon as possible.

Preparing another cold compress and putting it on his forehead, Tari emptied the water from the basin and made sure that it would be well within reach should Frodo need it again. Then she swiftly refilled the hot-water bottle, once again placing it against his belly. At once Frodo snuggled it close, curling up around it to absorb its warmth.

"Aww, dear," Tari said, her voice filled with pity as she sat down on the bed, gingerly rubbing the ailing hobbits back. Whimpering softly, he moved a little closer, welcoming her hands. Reaching out for the blankets, Tari lay herself down. "Come Frodo," she said, tenderly putting her arm around his back, softly pulling him closer and encouraging him to lean his head against her chest. "It's all right," she whispered. "You can sleep here, if you want to."

Frodo managed a tiny nod, and as Tari pulled the blankets all the way up to his head, tucking them both in, she could feel him grasping for her hand. Taking his small, cold fingers between hers, she put her other arm around his back again, under the blanket. "There now, Frodo, just try to sleep now... everything will be all right."

A small sob escaped her tiny charge as he buried his face into her nightgown once again... but soon Tari felt him relax; his grip around her hand loosening a little and the shivering subsiding as he sank into blessed sleep.

Suddenly overcome with weariness herself, Tari realised that she would gain nothing by fighting it. The healing process had drained her of all energy, and it was going to take much more... if she was going to be able to help Frodo further.

But even as the waking world faded into a dream world, her ailing charge was still with her, cradled in her comforting arms.

***

Once again Frodo woke with a start. This time, however, he had no memories of dark dreams, and the pain in his stomach seemed to have eased a little. Feeling Taris arm tighten a little around his back, stroking it softly, he lay down again, trying to fall asleep... but suddenly, he felt a wave of dizziness sweeping over him... and an instant later, his stomach rebelled. Sitting up abruptly, he tried to reach for the basin, but the room spun so violently that he lost all sense of direction... and though he tried to hold it back, it was useless. Soon he felt the vomit rising in his throat and an instant later he was retching again. But before he knew it, he felt Tari's hand supporting his forehead... and looking down, he saw that the basin had been placed in front of him. He had not even soiled the bedclothes.

Talking soothingly, Tari helped the ailing hobbit through the fit, gently cleaning him up afterward, preparing to tuck him back in. Once again Frodo was shivering with cold, and due to the vomiting, the pain had now returned, his stomach twisting in agony. Without a word he allowed Tari to lay her hands over the center of the pain, grateful beyond words for her presence.

Curling up, he waited for her to lay down beside him... but even though she had removed her hands from his belly now, she just sat there, softly rubbing his back.

"Dearest..." she said in a soft voice, "I think youd better try to drink some of that ginger tea... to see if it can help your stomach."

Frodo managed a soft nod, his eyes closed and his lips trembling. He still felt sick, but also very thirsty, and the thought of the warm, sweet ginger tea going down his raw throat was so soothing...

"Good..." Tari said, and Frodo could hear that she was smiling in relief as she rose. Then he must have dozied off for a moment, because the next thing he knew she was sitting beside him again, gently putting her arm around his back to help him sit up and holding the cup to his lips.

Frodo drank in slow sips... oh, it really felt wonderful and he wanted to finish the whole cup. The more he drank, the more he realised how thirsty he was... but suddenly he felt his stomach turning and firmly pushed the cup away, shaking his head. "I..." He drew a deep breath. "I'm s-so sorry, Tari, but I think... I d-don't think I can k-keep it..."

Before he had even finished the sentence, Tari had reached out for the basin, and helping him lean forward, she supported him with a hand on his forehead.

But nothing came up. His stomach knotted and rolled in discomfort, and he wished he could have retched, just to get rid of it, but nothing happened. Tari was doing her best to comfort him and pour some calm into him, but there appeared to be little she could do to stop the nausea.
Drawing a deep breath, Frodo finally gave in to exhaustion, and with a soft whimper, he sagged in her arms, soundly asleep.

Still talking to him in a low, soothing voice and rubbing his chest, Tari put the basin aside, gently hugging the ailing hobbit to her chest. Carefully easing him down, she wiped his forehead with a wet cloth before lying down next to him, once again encouraging him to nestle up against her. It didn't take long until they were both asleep again, Taris arm still around her little charges back.

***

This time Frodo awoke slowly. He realised he must have been sleeping for a while, for now, the first gray hints of dawn were becoming visible through the curtains. His head pounded, he still felt sick and feverish, and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. Maybe he *should* be embarrassed about the situation... to be treated like a helpless child... oh, he was so selfish... but no, he was too ill to care now, and for the moment, he wished for nothing more than to be cradled in Taris comforting arms...

But suddenly, he felt his bowels twisting again, with such force that he feared he was going to soil the bedding, and he sat up with a moan, desperately trying to gain control of it. Tari was awake in an instant, and immediately understanding what was going on, she quickly brought out the chamber pot from underneath the bed, helping him sit. Sobbing with relief, Frodo gave in to the urge, waiting for the attack to pass. Tari supported him gently, kneeling on the cold floor, not caring the least about the stench.

Then, all of a sudden, he felt another urge returning... and before he even knew what was going on, his stomach tightened. He only managed to lean over to the other side before he retched; the remains of the ginger tea splashing against the wooden floor, soiling his foot and the edge of the nightshirt.

Grasping for the basin, Tari tried her best to comfort the ailing hobbit, helping him avoid getting further soiled. When she finally reached it and was able to place it in front of him, he was nearly finished. The retching only brought up a small amount of greenish fluid before giving over to dry heaves that appeared to last for long minutes.

"Oh, poor dear..." Tari soothed, offering him a glass of lukewarm water to rinse his mouth. Frodo was so exhausted that he barely had the strength to suck it in; his eyes still half closed. But suddenly he stiffened, looking anxiously at the mess on the floor. "Tari..." he whimpered, still breathing heavily. "I'm s-so sorry, I d-didn't know... I w-will take care of it..."

"Oh no, Frodo... it's all right... don't you worry about that... you can't help it, dear." Stroking Frodo's hair reassuringly, Tari carefully started helping him out of the nightshirt. "Let's just get you cleaned up now... there now..."

She unfolded a towel over the sheets and placed him on the bed, once again positioning him on his side. After quickly cleaning the floor and emptying and rinsing the basin (pouring its contents out the window), she sponged him down again. He still felt hot to the touch, and though he wasnt sobbing, Tari knew he was crying in silence, his head turned aside.

He had at least been able to keep a little of the ginger tea, Tari mused. She would have to try coaxing him into taking some more fluids or he would face the risk of dehydration. The pain appeared to have eased a bit now, but she still got a sense of severe discomfort when she touched him. She put on another pot of water to boil, adding some new pieces of the candy-smelling ginger roots to it. Preparing another hot-water bottle, she returned to the hobbit once again... suddenly realising that they now had run out of nightshirts. The best thing for him would probably be to tuck him in with nothing but blankets and cowers; if he suffered another violent bout of vomiting, he would most likely get soaked in sweat, and if left with nothing on, it would be much easier to quickly sponge him down afterward, making him more comfortable. But all the same... he would probably find it very embarrassing, and the situation was humiliating enough as it was.

Temporarily covering the hobbit with a blanket, she returned to the hearth, eyeing the clothes hanging on the clothesline; the dancing shadows of the fire covering them with warm, dynamic patterns. After pouring up the ginger tea in a cup and waiting for it to cool, she decided on one of her longer chemises and took it down from the line. It had been mended in many places and once, long ago, it had been beautifully amber-coloured, though now it looked gray and worn out. But it was clean, at least, and the fabric was rather thin... and most importantly, it would be long enough to reach down to just above his knees.
She placed the cup on the nightstand, gently stripping the blanket from the little bundle of hobbit, entangling her hand into his curls. "Frodo..." she whispered softly, and he stirred a little. "I'm sorry, but we're out of nightshirts now. I'm afraid your spare one was soaked as well... so if you dont mind, you can borrow this." She showed him the chemise.

Finally, Frodo wearily turned his head, looking at her with his swollen eyes only half open, obviously fighting to stay awake... but he appeared to be confused. "Spare...?" he managed in a hoarse whisper. "Never had 'ny spare..."

"It's all right, Frodo," Tari smiled, trying to hide her concern and starting to help the ailing hobbit into the chemise. "You've been very ill, and it's no wonder you don't remember that I changed it."

"I do remember that, but..." Frodo whispered, but stopping mid-sentence, he closed his eyes, swallowing slightly, as if he was fighting against the tears again. "Sam," he continued, his voice cracking a little. "Oh, dear Sam."

And suddenly Tari understood. Samwise Gamgee, the ever-loyal servant, had offered his own nightshirt to save the dignity of his master.

***

Once again to Taris relief, Frodo had agreed to drink some more of the ginger tea, and this time, he did not appear to feel as nauseated afterward. As she had lain down, he had snuggled up against her, seeking her warmth and comfort and falling asleep in her arms. But this time, Tari was unable to go back to sleep despite the fact that she still felt fatigued. Outside the window, the sun was beginning to rise, and she knew that it would not be long now...

With a last effort, tightening her embrace around her charge, she tried to pour as much calm and comfort into his ailing body as she was capable of... but just as she was about to fall into a slumber, drained of all energy, she felt him stir. "Tari," she heard him saying in a soft voice. "Why did you become a messenger?"

At once she snapped up from her semiconscious state, easing herself a little from her pillow. Supporting herself on her elbows, she looked at him curiously. But if he actually had been talking to her, he must have said it in his sleep... for he was breathing deeply, curled up against her, his head now resting on her chest and a peaceful expression on his sleeping face.

And suddenly she realised that she was crying.

***

RAP, RAP, RAP, RAP, RAP!!!

*And the council is now ready to announce its decision...*

Tari awoke with a start, her heart pounding hard. Looking around, she could have wept with relief when she found that she was still in her room at the Prancing Pony... not facing the court of her village. Judging from the light that was slipping in between the curtains, she must have slept late... another couple of hours to add to her delay...

She eased herself up on her elbows again, looking down at her small charge, who was still sleeping with his head resting on her chest... a wet spot on her nightshirt under his mouth. Carefully reaching down, she put her hand on his forehead... yes, most definitely he still had a fever.

At the same moment she realised what had woken her as the sound was repeated. A knock at the door.

Carefully lifting the still-sleeping hobbit from her chest, her heart aching with pity, she placed his head on a pillow before tucking him back in. Then she rose from the bed and approached the door. "Yes?" she asked in a subdued voice.

"It's just us, miss," said Nobs voice from outside. "Me and Mr. Merry..."

Quickly Tari opened the door for them, wishing them good morning as she let them in, reluctant to step out into the hallway since she was still wearing her nightshirt.

"We were worried about you, since we assumed you were to leave early," Merry began, before Tari even had time to open her mouth again. "And we still had not heard from you, and now it's nine o' clock in the morning... how is Frodo?"

"Oh..." Tari began, deciding not to go into any details whatsoever. "He has been very ill... though he appears to be sleeping more peacefully now... and the others? How is Sam?"
Merry smiled broadly. "Sam slept like a baby all through the night... or maybe not really, since it was his snoring that woke me up some hours ago... but as far as I know, both he and Pip are still asleep, and he has not been coughing at all."

"That is good news," Tari said, and turning to Nob, she continued. "I'm afraid I have some things for you to do here."

"Of course, Miss Tari," Nob smiled. "That is my job..."

"Well, the tubs can wait, but there are... certain things that need to be emptied, and we could use some more water... both hot and cold... as well as some clean towels and washing cloths."

Hesitating for a few moments, she paused and drew another deep breath before continuing. "And if you please could send for a healer... preferably a hobbit, if there is one. I don't think Frodo's condition is serious, but if anything can be given to ease his ailing stomach..."

"I understand," Nob nodded. "As a matter of fact, I know of a very skillful hobbit lady, who lives just a few houses from here. I will send for her at once."

Tari thanked him and went to get the used chamber pots herself, covering them with the pile of dirty towels.

"Miss Tari, you're doing my job for me," Nob laughed.

But when Tari followed them to the door again without giving them any further instructions, as if she expected them to leave, they looked at each other in surprise.

"Miss Tari..." Nob began, looking very confused. "Wouldn't you like me to ask Bob to have your horse prepared?"

Looking toward the bed, Tari saw that the ailing hobbit now had rolled over to her side of the bed again, his head right under her pillow, comforted by the remains of her scent and still in a deep sleep.

"No..." she heard herself saying, suddenly feeling very calm." There is no need for that. Just make sure he is fed and that the stall is cleaned, and I will check on him later. For I am not going anywhere. I am staying."



To be continued....