In this chapter, *~* denotes a dream

Chapter Fifteen: The Worst Expected

As Ferdirand had raced towards Hobbiton, Sam and Merry sat by Frodo’s bedside. "When will he wake up?" Merry wondered aloud. "He will be all right, won’t he Sam?"

Sam sighed and tiredly ran his fingers through his sandy curls. "I hope so, Mr. Merry," he muttered, head drooping. Without intending to, his eyes closed and his head fell forward onto the bed. Merry smiled at the exhausted hobbit and decided to let him sleep. He wished that he could move him to a more comfortable position, but he was younger than Sam and didn’t think he’d be able to lift him.

Merry had had a quick nap with Daisy earlier, and so tired as he was, he was better off than Sam. He sighed and gently stroked Frodo’s burning forehead with the wet cloth. "Please get better, Frodo," he whispered, laying his head on his cousin’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, which was quick and erratic. Frodo stirred and moaned softly in his sleep, tossing his head back and forth, a look of pain on his face. Merry gently climbed up on the bed beside him – careful not to jar him too much, and lay down next to him. "It’s all right, Frodo," he whispered in his cousin’s ear. "I’m here. It’s me, Merry."

Frodo groaned again, and then Merry began to distinguish words. "Merry? Sam? Where… where are you?"

At the sound of his cries, Sam jerked awake. "Oh, bless me!" he exclaimed. "How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me, Mr. Merry?" Without waiting for an answer, he scooted his stool closer and stroked Frodo’s cheek. "There now, Mr. Frodo," he murmured, bending his head so that his lips were close to Frodo’s ear. "It’s all right. Your Sam’s here. You’re all right…" Merry, on Frodo’s other side, was still faithfully bathing his forehead with the cloth, every so often gently dabbing at the wounds.

Frodo eventually quieted, but tears ran down his cheeks and his face was pained. "Frodo?" Merry said softly. "Frodo, please wake up. It’s me, Merry. And Sam’s here too. Please, Frodo, please?" The only response was a slight furrowing of Frodo’s eyebrows, and Merry laid his head on his cousin’s chest as he had done earlier and closed his eyes, drifting into a light half-doze despite himself.

Merry’s eyes suddenly flew open as he heard Frodo moaning loudly. He jerked his head up and looked around. Sam was still sitting by the bed, dutifully stroking Frodo’s face with the cloth. Merry glanced at Frodo’s wrist and saw that the wounds were bleeding again through the bandages. "Sam," he said quietly, his voice quivering. Sam looked up, saw the blood and quickly used the damp cloth to staunch the bleeding. But at his touch, Frodo cried out and tried to jerk his arm away. Merry jumped—carefully—off the bed and grabbed a glass of water that sat on a table (really there for Dr. Bolger’s use) and placing it to Frodo’s lips, gently poured some in. For a moment, there was no reaction, but suddenly, Frodo began to choke and cough. Sam quickly climbed up on the bed and helped Merry raise Frodo up into a sitting position and rubbed his back.

Frodo coughed for a worrying long time, and at last, fell back, gasping against the pillows. Sam sighed with relief and got down to put the cup back on the table. "Sam!" Merry called suddenly. "Look!" Sam turned around and dashed back to the bed to see what Merry was staring at. There was something red spattered faintly on the sheets, and also at the corner of Frodo’s mouth. Blood.

Merry raised his eyes slowly to meet Sam’s, which were wide with fear. "We need the doctor," Merry whispered. "Quick!"

Sam ran to the door and threw it open. "Dr. Bolger!"

~*~

Frodo was wandering in a dark, dead land, filled with eerie, writhing mists and blackened trees. He ran through the trees, again feeling a strange weight around his neck. All at once, he was out in the open, and he could see large, black hills, smoke rising from their tops and swirling down to him. As he walked on toward them, the air got harder and harder to breathe. It seemed to writhe around him and close around his throat so that he choked.

Suddenly, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck, as though he were being watched. He spun around, and to his horror, he saw the pale wraith king, sword drawn, moving toward him. Frodo ran toward the hills, up a strange, narrow path that wound around the largest hill. He did not know where his feet were leading him, only that he had to get away from the wraith behind him. His breath came in painful gasps and his lungs felt like bursting for want of enough air, but somehow he forced himself on.

At the top of the hill, the air became clearer, and he was able to breathe again. He paused to fill his aching lungs and then looked up and around. The path led straight to an old, blackened round door. Running up to it, Frodo gasped. Bag End! But the beautiful green paint of the door had peeled off, and the front windows were broken. Frodo felt tears welling in his eyes at the sight, and he was reluctant to open the door, afraid of what he might see inside. Looking behind, he saw that the pale king was no longer behind him, and nowhere to be seen. He sighed with relief, and taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the door of Bag End.

Inside, everything bore the appearance of having been burned: the portraits above the mantle were destroyed, the tables and chairs no more than piles of ashes, and every window broken. Standing in the hallway looking around him in despair, Frodo suddenly heard footsteps and looking up, he sucked in his breath sharply. It was Bilbo! The old hobbit was running towards him, arms outstretched and a cheerful smile on his face. "Come here, Frodo my lad!" he said as he came. But as fast as he ran, he did not seem to be getting any nearer, and Frodo began to run toward him.

Looking behind Bilbo, Frodo saw a tall, white shape, holding aloft a pale sword. With a gasp, he tried to speed up, to pull Bilbo away from the wraith. But it seemed as though his feet were leaden, and stifling fumes blew toward him from down the hall, making it difficult to breathe again. It was starting to make him feel light-headed.

The wraith lifted up his skeletal hand, and all at once, all oxygen was completely cut off. Gasping, Frodo stumbled and fell to his knees, lungs pumping desperately for air, but to no avail. "Bilbo!" he managed to choke out. "Look out behind you!" But the old hobbit seemed completely unaffected by the sudden loss of air, and continued running towards him, heedless of the danger behind him. "Bilbo!" Frodo cried with the last of his air. "Behind you! Bilbo!"

At last, Bilbo turned, seemingly in slow motion, just as the wraith’s sword came whistling down…

~*~

"Keep him still!" Dr. Bolger ordered, and both Merry and Sam pinned Frodo’s arms to his sides as the unconscious hobbit continued to struggle. "Bilbo!" he called out in a choked voice. "Bilbo! Behind you! Look out… Bilbo!" His breaths came in short gasps, and his heartbeat was racing. He tossed his head from side to side, struggling to wrench his arms out of the firm grip that held them.

"What’s wrong with him?" Merry cried frantically, in tears. Dr. Bolger did not have an opportunity to answer, for at that moment, Frodo’s struggles suddenly ceased, and he went limp. Cautiously, Merry let go of Frodo’s arm, but there was no movement.

"He’s not breathing!" shouted Sam suddenly, and Merry saw to his horror that there was a faint bluish tinge to Frodo’s lips.

"Get off the bed, quick!" Dr. Bolger commanded, and both hobbit lads immediately obeyed. The doctor then tilted Frodo’s head back, checked for a pulse and finding it faint but present, he pressed his mouth to Frodo’s and blew three slow even breaths into it. Behind him, Merry was sobbing in the arms of Sam, who had tears running unchecked down his cheeks.

Dr. Bolger checked for breath, then repeated the process once more, and after what seemed an eternity, he gave a cry of joy. "He’s breathing again!" Panting and wiping sweat from his brow, he collapsed into his chair at the bedside while Sam and Merry thanked him repeatedly. "I haven’t lost a patient yet," he said, with a weak smile.

Merry jumped up on the bed, still careful not to touch the injured arm, and gently smoothed the sweat-dampened curls from Frodo’s forehead. Sam sat on the other side, stroking Frodo’s cheek and whispering in his ear. Merry was too relieved for words, and was content just to sit by his cousin’s side and bathe his forehead with the damp cloth.

About an hour later, Merry was startled out of a light doze by Frodo stirring. He sat up, looking around blearily. He saw the doctor bending over Frodo, checking his pulse and listening to his breathing, and Sam stirring some herbs into a cup of tea. Looking down at Frodo, he saw with relief that his cousin’s eyes were fluttering. "Frodo?" he said softly. "Please wake up, please!"

Dr. Bolger patted Merry’s hand. "Don’t worry," he said gently. "I believe that he will open his eyes soon."

~*~

The dark mists surrounding him faded away, and Frodo found with relief that he could breathe once more. A brilliant light shone around him, almost too bright to look upon.

"Am I dead?" he wondered aloud to himself, looking around. He could see nothing but that blinding white light.

Then suddenly, a face broke through it, kind and smiling, with soft brown eyes and curly hair of the same color, though streaked with grey. "Bilbo?" Frodo asked hopefully.

The brilliant light began to fade, and a voice said, "Wake up, Frodo, wake up!"

Frodo shook his head in confusion. "Bilbo?" he called again. The face before him did not fade, as the light around it swiftly did, but instead became more clear. "Bilbo?" Frodo cried as the white light faded away like a mist…

~*~

"Bilbo?" Frodo called as his eyes slowly fluttered open. At first, everything was unfocused and blurry, but gradually, he was able to focus on the face bending over him. "Bilbo?" he asked in confusion.

The face smiled. "No, I’m not Bilbo. But don’t worry, lad, we’ve sent for your uncle and he should be arriving here shortly."

Frodo looked around and saw Merry and Sam sitting next to him on the bed, tears shining in their eyes. "Merry…Sam?" he murmured hoarsely. "What’s wrong?"

Through his tears, Merry laughed. "Nothing, now, Frodo," he said, reaching out and grabbing Frodo’s uninjured hand.

Sam gently brushed back the dark curls from Frodo’s face. "Oh, Mr. Frodo!" he exclaimed. "How’re you feelin’?"

Frodo glanced down at his wrist. "Not… too badly, actually," he said slowly. "Better than before, at least. My head and my chest hurt, but besides that, I feel much better."

At that moment, the door of the room opened, and Bilbo entered, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Broadbelt and Daisy. "Bilbo!" Frodo exclaimed hoarsely, causing himself to cough.

Bilbo quickly hurried over and sitting down on the bedside, gently rubbed his back until the fit had passed. "Glad to see you awake, my dear boy," he exclaimed, giving Frodo a tight hug. "You gave me quite a fright," he added in a whisper.

Frodo looked up, his crystal blue eyes still slightly too fever bright. "I’m glad you’re here, Uncle," he murmured, resting his head against Bilbo’s chest.

Merry and Sam got off the bed to give Bilbo room, and while Sam sat down in his stool by the bedside, Merry sat down in a rocking chair in a corner with Daisy in his lap. Watching Bilbo and Frodo embrace, he smiled and Daisy sat up on her knees so that she was eye-level with him. "Fro better now, Mer?" she asked.

Merry looked down at her with a laugh. "I hope so, Daisy.”

The little hobbit lass gave him a quick hug. "Good," she said. "Now Mer can go to sleep. Come with me! Mer can sleep in Daisy’s room!" She jumped down off the rocking chair and waited impatiently for Merry to follow her.

With a chuckle, Merry got up and let himself be pulled away, glancing at Frodo one last time before Daisy pulled him out of the room. He hadn’t even realized how tired he was until he caught sight of Daisy’s soft feather bed and fluffy pillows. "Mer sleep that side," Daisy instructed, picking up one of the pillows and carrying it over to the foot of the bed. "And Daisy sleep this side!" she finished with an angelic smile up at Merry. He climbed into the bed and helped Daisy under the covers on her side before snuggling up himself.

"Good night, Mer," Daisy murmured.

Merry smiled as he closed his eyes. "Good night, Daisy.”

TBC...