The hobbits were ushered to their rooms in the palace. A whole suite of rooms had been adapted for them, with everything just the right size. Rosie was enchanted by everything and Sam watched fondly as she opened closets and examined the bathroom. Each bedroom had an adjoining bathroom; she could not believe the luxury. She had always thought of Bag End as the height of splendour but this was overwhelming.

       "What do you think, Rose?" Sam asked anxiously.

       "I can hardly believe it! All this for us! Oh Sam, it's wonderful!" She threw her arms round him and kissed him soundly. Then she looked round and added, "One thing I don't think I'll ever get used to though."

       "And what is that, I wonder?" Frodo enquired, peering round the door. He looked around admiringly. "Mmm! Quite the honeymoon suite!"

       "You be careful, Frodo Baggins," Rosie laughed. "You're not too old for a rap over the knuckles!"

       "You're supposed to be kind to a poor old gentlehobbit," he grinned. "But that still doesn't answer my question."

       "Having people doing everything for me, that's what! All the clothes unpacked and put away, water prepared, beds made. What am I going to do with all this extra time? Even the baby's in the nursery and being looked after by about three nursemaids!"

       "You're here to enjoy yourself, rest, indulge and do nothing!" said Frodo firmly. "Now I don't know about you, but I'm extremely hungry, and if we don't reach the tea table soon, Pippin and Merry will have scoffed the lot!"

                                                              ******************

       Pippin's eyes were almost popping out as he surveyed the tea table. There were at least a dozen different kinds of sandwiches, mushroom tartlets, cheese and onion tartlets, biscuits and six large silver cakestands groaning with cream-filled goodies.

       "Oooooh my!" he breathed. There had never been a food shortage on his previous visits but the royal chefs had excelled themselves this time. He sat down, looking slightly dazed. Not even the lack of sausages upset him; there was so much else.

       Merry leaned back and sighed with pleasure. This was perfect. Life did not get any better than this.

       Frodo was seated between Aragorn and Faramir, and he was asking about the improvements in the city and the transformation of Ithilien with the coming of the Elves. On Aragorn's other side, Sam was telling Arwen about the re-planting of the Shire and his work as Mayor, while Rosie chatted happily to the Queen and Eowyn about the children and what she thought of her journey through Rohan and Gondor. It was the excited chatter of friends. An instant rapport had sprung between Rosie and the other two women. She had feared she would have nothing to say and be tongue-tied in conversation but was suprised to find that they had much in common. She was a sensible, down-to-earth girl and was relieved to find that both Arwen and Eowyn were the same. Soon they were laughing and discussing the foibles of their menfolk, which were many and varied.

       When even Pippin declared he could not eat another scrap, they went to their rooms to rest and prepare for dinner. Aragorn told them this was to be an informal dinner, not a banquet, although he hastened to reassure Pippin that he would certainly not be disappointed with the amount of food. Frodo undressed and lay down for a while, pleasantly sleepy and full. He drifted off to sleep with the sound of a splashing fountain in his ears.

       Everyone had a nap, as it was likely to be a long and boisterous evening. Rosie ventured to the nursery and fed a drowsy baby who was already bathed and prepared for bed. Arwen and Eowyn arrived to do likewise, and were soon showing off their pretty baby girls to Rosie and taking turns to hold Pip-lad. Eowyn disapproved of wet nurses and Arwen had been impressed by this and followed suit when Eldarion was born. The King made no protest, much to the surprise of the midwives, who forgot that he had spent years among ordinary people who fed their own babies as a matter of course.

        "I cannot believe how well Frodo looks now," Arwen said. "He says nothing about his illness but it must have been terrifying for you and Sam and his family."

       Rosie nodded. "Sam still can't bear to talk much about it, and Frodo remembers little of it. Just as well, really. It's a long story but I'll tell you later, after dinner while they're all getting drunk and telling silly jokes."

       Eowyn laughed. "I can see you're under no illusions about what men get up to once we've left the table!"

       "Daft lot!" Rosie said with a smile. "Like a lot of big children really, getting up to naughty games behind 'Mum's' back!"

        In their room, Rosie undressed and took a bath before dressing for dinner. Arwen had stressed that it was an informal gathering, so she chose a pretty but fairly ordinary dress. Sam and Frodo were already dressed, in shirtsleeves and weskits, and they joked about being kept waiting by a woman. When they spotted a certain gleam in Rosie's eye they darted outside and stood in the passage, laughing like children..

       "Very funny, I'm sure," she said when she emerged. "I can wait. I'll get you when you're not expecting it!" She took a proffered arm from each of them, and together they walked to the private apartments of King Elessar and his Queen.

       Aragorn was barefoot, as usual, and smiling as they entered. The children had been allowed to stay up for a while, and ran to them at once to almost drag them to the comfortable couches. Young Boromir proudly produced his pet mice, to Eowyn's mortification, and almost exploded with pride when Frodo held them.

       "I used to have pet mice when I was your age. They're great fun, aren't they?" He stroked the little creatures as they ran along his sleeve and perched on his shoulder. Faramir laughed at his wife's expression.

        "Don't be too angry with him, my love. He is so fond of them and look at him! He is thrilled that Frodo is taking an interest." He smiled beguilingly at Eowyn and she softened.

       "I can hardly be very cross with him - he's just like you. When I look at him I see you at the same age." She stroked Faramir's cheek and he kissed her quickly. "Frodo! I hope Boromir isn't being a nuisance or tiring you?"

       "Certainly not. It's nice to be surrounded by children again. I've missed it since we left the Shire." He crouched to talk to Finduilas and Gilraen, and put an arm round the two boys to draw them in too. The boys tried not to stare at the right hand with its missing finger, although they both knew the story by heart. Frodo caught them trying not to look, and grinned. He held his hand out and said, "I don't mind you looking, you know. You won't offend me, and it isn't every day that you meet someone with a missing finger!"

       Finduilas looked concerned. "Does it hurt?" she asked, thinking how much a graze hurt when she scraped herself.

       "No, not now. It did for a long while afterwards, but not any more." He ruffled her reddish hair. "Anyway, a finger was a small price to pay for the whole of Middle-earth, so it was worth it."

       Sam almost choked and had to look out of the window for a moment while he composed himself. He was surprised to find Aragorn doing the same, and they shared a quick, slightly tearful smile.

       "If only the price had been that small," Sam whispered. Aragorn nodded, only too aware that Frodo had almost paid the ultimate price, not just at Mount Doom but many times since, with his life and sanity at breaking point.

       Legolas and Gimli arrived, together with Merry and Pippin.The lilting cadences of the Elf and the gruff tones of the dwarf mingled in a surprising harmony. Legolas laughed more whenever Gimli was around, and the dwarf seemed more appreciative of the beauties of nature. It was good to see them happy in each other's company.

       Eldarion sat next to Frodo and talked earnestly about his studies. He was determined to be as great a king as his father,and was conscious of his duties as host. He could read and speak Elvish as fluently as Westron, and was startled when Frodo spoke to him in Sindarin.

       "My cousin Bilbo taught me Elvish. I can read and speak Sindarin quite well, but I'm afraid my Quenya is a little rusty. Perhaps you'll help me to remember it while I'm here?"

        The child's face broke into a beaming smile. "It would be the greatest honour, sir," he replied. Frodo was touched by the boy's solemnity.

       "And I don't think you need to call me sir. Your father is one of my dearest friends and I hope you will call me Frodo."

       Eldarion looked shocked. "Just a name would not be respectful," he said, although he was happy Frodo had said it.

       "Then what about Uncle Frodo? That is what Sam and Rosie's children call me, after all."

       "Oh yes!...................that is, may I, Papa, please?" He turned to his father, who laughed delightedly.

       "Of course you may, my boy. If Frodo says so, then I am more than happy for you to do so."

       A chorus erupted. "Can we call you Uncle too?!" Gilraen scrambled up onto Frodo's lap and kissed him.

       "I think that's a lovely idea. And I daresay Sam and Rosie would be happy to be Uncle and Aunt too, if you'd like?" He glanced at his friends for confirmation. Rosie looked stunned.

       "Fancy me being called 'Aunt' by princes and princesses!" she murmured. "Ordinary Rosie Gamgee from the Shire!"

       The King snorted and laughed. "Rosie, you have never been ordinary! You enslaved poor Sam here, you run a household, look after your children, travel halfway accross Middle Earth and you've managed to have Frodo looking as healthy as I've ever seen him! Hardly the actions of an 'ordinary' hobbit!" He beamed at her blush. "You are thoroughly extraordinary, and had I not already given my heart to my Arwen I would be extremely jealous of Sam!"

       Rosie smiled. "Well, you're a flatterer and no mistake! If I thought you were teasing........ I'd........" She faltered at Aragorn's expression of terror.

       "Not that! Please.................not the................tea towel!" he cried in mock horror. Rosie threw up her hands and glared at Pippin.

       "What have you been telling him?" she demanded, laughing now.

       Pippin grinned. "Nothing - except that you are not to be crossed, on pain of a flicked ear." He ducked, just in case. "We should have had Rosie on the battlefield. The armies of the Dark Lord would have fled before her!"

        The children were allowed to eat their supper with the company. As they took their seats, the doors opened and in came Elladan and Elrohir, Arwen's brothers. More ecstatic reunions took place and another couch was pushed forward. The twins had come from Rivendell, and they had brought another surprise guest with them. A few moments later their travelling companion entered, tall and silver haired, young and old at the same time, as only a great Elf-lord could be.

       "Lord Celeborn! My lord, this is a great honour!" said Aragorn, leaping up. He had hoped Celeborn would come, but the great lord seldom travelled these days. His grief at the departure of his lady had affected him, and he often sought the company of the twins at Rivendell, since they could understand his pain.

        Celeborn smiled. "I could hardly miss such a momentous reunion, could I? Elessar, it is a pleasure to see you again. Arwen, my beloved child!" He embraced his grand-daughter and exclaimed over the size of his great grand-children, who ran to him and drew him into the circle.

        "Anadar!" Arwen held him close and tried not to weep. With her father, mother and grandmother gone to Valinor, she treasured her remaining family all the more. Her brothers were freqent visitors but Celeborn's company was a rarity and all the more cherished for being so.

       Gimli grinned at Legolas. "Well, Master Elf, this day grows more perfect with every passing moment!"

       "It does indeed," Legolas agreed.

       The King overheard, and smiled. "The day is not over yet, my good Gimli," he said, as two of the servants entered with barrels. "I have some of Barliman's best beer for us!"

       Merry howled with laughter. "The cunning old so-and-so! I thought his "By Appointment" sign was just to impress travellers! Well, well!"

       Celeborn embraced the hobbits warmly. He was aware of some of Frodo's suffering and its resolution, and smiled to himself. He would talk to Frodo another day. This was a night for fun and happy memories. Then he turned to the others.

       "Legolas, it is good to see you again. I saw your father six months ago - he is well. The greenwood is looking as beautiful as ever, and I am looking forward to seeing the transformation of the city and the results of your labours in Ithilien. Good Master dwarf, the stonework in this city is superb! True craftsmanship. You must be very proud."

       Gimli glowed but mumbled shyly that everyone had worked hard. The Elves had planted as fast as the dwarves had built, and the effect was of cascading fountains and waterfalls of flowers over the walls of all the city's levels. He gave as much credit to the Elves as the dwarves, and Celeborn thought how pleased Galadriel would be to know that the two races were getting along so well.

       They all took their seats as the servants brought in the first course. Wine was poured and Aragorn stood.

       "I should like to propose a toast. To us all, to friendship, and to those friends absent from our lives but not our hearts!"

       The children ate their supper and then reluctantly bade the company "good-night" as it was long past their bedtime. By the time they had been all round the company, and the little girls had darted back for another round of kisses, another half hour had sped by. At last Arwen and Eowyn had to chase them from the room.

       "Off you go! Our friends will be here for many weeks. You can talk with them again tomorrow." The Queen shooed them out into the arms of their waiting nurses, and closed the door, laughing. "They really are impossible! Do you have the same problem, Rose?"

       "I think we know all the excuses now, don't we boys?" she addressed Sam and Frodo, who nodded and laughed.

       "They've forgotten a favourite toy, they need a drink, they have a tummy-ache/toothache/feel sick, didn't kiss someone properly the first time - that's just a few of them." Frodo ticked them off on his fingers.

       Sam took up the list. "Then there's all the reasons to come back - forgot the water, heard a noise, had a nightmare, there's a monster under the bed, they've developed earache, someone else won't put the candle out, there's been a fight.......... Takes two hours some nights, doesn't it, love?"

       "Does when you two are in charge," Rosie said tartly. "You're too soft with them. They don't try all that with me any more."

       "Rosie is much more strict than we are," Sam said sheepishly.

       "True. We're utterly hopeless, I'm afraid," chuckled Frodo. "Nothing would ever get done if it was left to us. Isn't that true, Rose-blossom?"

       " 'Course it's true!" she retorted, though her eyes sparkled with affection. "Pair of useless lummocks!" She put an arm round each of them and gave them a hug. "I'm sure they must be good for something, though what that is we haven't found out yet!"

       The King laughed. "I was just thinking you'd found out what Sam was good for!"

       Rosie did not miss a beat. "Well, there is the gardening, I'll give him that!" she said, giggling at the expression on her husband's face. The rest of the company joined in and Sam, blushing slightly, took the joke in good part.

       "Charming!" he said, pretending to grumble, and she sweetened the teasing with a kiss. "Now this...." he added, "..........I am good at!" He ducked as she pretended to smack him lightly.

       Dinner continued with much laughter and conversation. Celeborn had thought he would retire after dinner but he found he was enjoying himself too much to contemplate leaving this merry company. Arwen was pleased to see him so light-hearted, as he shared the wine with Legolas and the twins, his grey eyes twinkling with a happiness he had not felt for many years. It was impossible to be miserable in the presence of happy hobbits.

       Aragorn exclaimed over the length of Frodo's fingernails. "I can hardly believe it! The first time I met him, in the 'Pony' in Bree, I thought I'd never seen nails in such a state - bitten to the quick! Now look at these! What brought this about?"

       Frodo blushed and grinned ruefully. "Rosie, I'm afraid. She told me they were a disgrace and yelled at me whenever she saw me nibbling. Said I was as bad as the children."

       "Have you always bitten your nails, Frodo?" Eowyn asked.

       "Yes, my mother used to stop me, but after my parents died no-one bothered, and I was naturally unhappy so I did it all the more, until it became a habit. Esmeralda sometimes said she'd paint my nails with something bitter, but she didn't have the heart to."

       "I did though," said Rosie with a little smile. "He wouldn't stop biting so I painted all his nails with bitter almonds."

       "And very nearly poisoned me!" he said indignantly. I forgot and chewed while the stuff was on them - I was really ill. I was convinced she'd poisoned me!"

       "So was I," said Sam. "I gave her a bit of a telling off for that - not that it made any difference!"

       Rosie scoffed. "Poisoned indeed! You were sick, that's all! Shouldn't have bitten them, should you?" she teased.

       "Well, I learned my lesson, I can tell you! And I have to admit it worked. I'm rather pleased with them now."

       When no-one had room for one more morsel, the table was cleared and the three ladies rose.

       "We shall leave you to your pipes and ale and naughty songs," said Eowyn with a smile. She leaned over Faramir's chair as she passed behind him, and kissed him lovingly. "The Queen and Rosie and I are going to retire and gossip about you all!"

       "I daresay those babies will all want feeding again before bed anyway," Rosie added. She kissed Sam and Frodo. "Be good, you two. Don't want to hear you've been locked up in one of the King's dungeons for scandalous behaviour!"

       Pippin harrumphed. "I see! You don't care if we're locked up, you hard hearted wench!"

       "Tell you two to be good? That's a laugh and no mistake! You don't know how, Peregrin Took!"

       Merry gave a loud sob. "She just doesn't love us any more, Pip! It's so unfair!"

       "Pair of silly fools," she said fondly, and bade everyone good-night before departing for the Queen's apartments nearby.

                                                               ******************

        Arwen's apartments were spacious and furnished in Elven style. A smaller chair had been placed between two larger ones, especially for Rosie, who was very touched at the thoughtfulness of the royal couple. A small table was set with a flagon of wine and three glasses, and there were several dishes of fruit and sweetmeats. The effect was warm and welcoming. The three women talked of their children, comparing notes on development and behaviour, and they discussed the pleasures and difficulties of life, and the foolishness of their menfolk.

       The high wail of a hungry baby was soon taken up by two more, and three nurses entered, carrying three very noisy bundles. Rosie shrugged and decided that there should be no embarrassment between three experienced mothers. She unfastened her bodice and Pip-lad was soon quietly engrossed in feeding. Arwen and Eowyn followed suit and the room was calm once more, with only the soft sucking of the babies and the muted murmur of conversation filling the tranquil evening.

       At last the babies were satisfied and sleepy and were handed over to the nursemaids once more. Rosie settled back in her chair, sipped at the delicate Elvish wine and nibbled an orange segment. The fruit were a favoutite of Frodo's, and when he had been recovering from his long illness Aragorn sent boxes of them to the Shire.

       "So what did happen to Frodo when he was ill?" Arwen asked. "Aragorn really wants to know but he doesn't like to make Frodo talk about it."

       "Yes, " said Eowyn. "I think we'd all like to know - if you don't mind talking about it, that is?"

       Rose smiled. "Bless you, why should I mind? It was hard and terrible at the time, but I sometimes think it would be a relief to talk about it. I can't talk to Frodo because he doesn't really remember much of it, and I don't think he wants to, and Sam won't talk about it because it still pains him too much." She set down her wine glass and began.

~~**~~**~~** ~~**                            ~~**~~**~~**~~**                            ~~**~~**~~**

The Shire October 1426 SR

       Sam was very troubled. Frodo's usual anniversary illness was taking its time to shift. There had been the chills and fevers, of course, and the strange trance-like state, the nausea, the sleepwalking, the agonising pain and the terrifying nightmares. These were to be expected and had afflicted Frodo every October and March since they returned to the Shire; Sam knew how Frodo was feeling during those periods, and knew how long it would take before his master was restored to himself - or as much of himself as was left these days. This time however, things were different. It was a week since the 6th, and Frodo was still suffering from a high fever and a great deal of pain. The thought of food made him heave; he could only drink weak tea, water or weak watered fruit juice. The doctor had long since given up on "Mad Baggins" and no longer bothered to respond to a summons. Folk felt sorry for Sam and Rosie, having to look after "poor Mr. Baggins" but no-one ever offered to help, or came to visit, or stopped to ask him how he was feeling. Whether it hurt him or not Sam wasn't sure, but he himself grew more and more upset at the rejection of his friend and master. Only Pippin, Merry and the loving Esmeralda Brandybuck and Eglantine Took called at Bag End now, particularly during the illnesses.

       "How is he?" Rosie asked as Sam walked into the kitchen. She noted her husband's heavy step and pensive look, and cocked an eyebrow as he sank into the rocker by the stove.

       "I don't rightly know, lass. Never seen him this bad before. He won't even let me touch his shoulder - keeps saying there's something in there that's poisonous. He seemed frightened for me when I tried to bathe it. Didn't eat anything either."

       "He hasn't eaten anything for ten days now. We'll try the athelas again shortly. You have a rest, Sam, you were up half the night."

       Sam hauled himself out of the chair and walked to the door. "No, if I sit down I'll fall asleep. Don't want to leave him on his own right now."

       As he entered Frodo's room he was shocked to see his master's nightshirt bloodied. Frodo was scrabbling frantically at his chest, his fingers ripping at the pale flesh even with those ragged nails. He's searching for the Ring! Sam thought with sinking heart. He ran forward and held the hands still, gazing into the vacant blue eyes which seemed to be losing their colour, hoping for some sign of recognition. After a few moments Frodo shuddered and looked down at the blood.

       "I'm sorry, Sam. I don't know what came over me...........I suppose I wanted..........It..........." A tear slid down his cheek and he sagged back on the pillows. "I'm so tired, Sam.............. I don't think I can fight this any more ......" He looked frail and sad and hopeless.

       Sam sat on the bed and held him the way he would hold one of the children after a nightmare, rocking and shushing until the too-slender body was quiet in his arms. He silently cursed Sauron, Saruman and even the stupid council who had sent his poor master off to Mordor. Why did it have to be Frodo, so innocent and gentle, so happy? The Ring had eaten away at his soul and his mind as well as his body, and every anniversary he had to suffer more torment. This was so cruel. He had to admit to himself that these illnesses were getting worse, lasting longer and taking more out of Frodo each time. He was beginning to wish Frodo had gone to Valinor after all, if staying meant all this suffering.

       It was three weeks before Frodo felt well enough to get up, and even then he was still very subdued. The November chill seemed to seep into his bones and he huddled before the fire, often with a blanket wrapped round his shoulders. Rosie's heart twisted in pain to see him hunched over, his steps unsteady as an old gaffer's. She had seen the scars on his body - the knife wound in his shoulder, the twin lumps at the back of his neck from the great spider, the whip weals on his back and sides, the marks on his legs and feet from the sharp stones and hot larva of Mordor, the stump on his right hand where one of those long, scholar's fingers had been savagely bitten off by that dreadful creature Gollum, and the long deep furrow at the back and side of his neck where the weight of the thing he carried had caused its chain to cut into his flesh - but she was now starting to realise that the scars in his mind were even more of a problem. She was also concerned about all the signs of nerves, jumping at sudden noises, flinching from bright light and plagued by bouts of nervous retching. What frightened her the most were the episode of complete blankness, when he would sit staring at nothing for minutes or hours at a time. The March troubles would be upon him before he had a chance to recover from this bout, and she was not sure he had the strength to cope with much more.

       By Yule he was a little more approachable, but it was as though a light had gone out. He rarely went to the study to work on his books, and if he did stay in there for a while he seemed to spend his time staring into the fire, his mind far away in a land of fire and ash. Sometimes it was as though he was hypnotised by the glowing logs,, while at others he was apparently terrified. His manner had always been a little absent -minded, now he was vague and distant, even with the children. They did not appear troubled by this and gave their affection freely; little Elanorelle, as he called her, was the most loving child and she managed to pull him back when no-one else could. Frodo-lad was placid and gentle like his father, often tucked at Frodo's feet, quietly playing with tiny Rosie-lass. A new baby would be joining the family in the late spring, and Rosie felt she had almost everything she wanted - if only Frodo's health would improve.

       On March 12th Sam went into the study to take Frodo some tea, and found him on the floor in a swoon. He carried him to the couch and called Rosie, whose heart sank when she saw him. He looked so pale and thin; his appetite had been poor since the previous October. Would he have the strength to pull through another such extended period of sickness? She felt his left arm and hand, which were icy cold, and ran to fetch fresh athelas leaves. Sam grew it now because they used so much, and in winter it was cosseted under glass, with sacking added at night to keep out the frost. Together they helped him to his room and put him to bed. He raised no objection but sank into the pillows with a weary sigh and closed his eyes, allowing the mattress to support his thin, frail body.

       During that night, and for many nights afterwards, Frodo was wracked with fevers and chills. Rosie and Sam took it in turns to sit beside him and mop the sweat from his face and neck. Merry and Pippin arrived as soon as they heard, and they too joined in, sending Rosie off to bed. She was due to give birth in six weeks and needed her rest. Merry had never been so afraid for his cousin, not since those terrible days when they struggled towards Rivendell; he sensed that Frodo was slipping further and further away in his mind. Taking Frodo's limp hand, he talked softly of their lives together in the early days at Brandy Hall, when Merry was very young.

       "You were always my hero, you know, Fro. I followed you everywhere whether you wanted me or not. I must have been an infernal nuisance but you never once shouted at me or pushed me away." He leaned closer and wiped the sheen of sweat from Frodo's brow. "And you're still my hero - no, you are. You're so brave, Fro. Please don't give up now, dearest. We all love you so much."

       Pippin tried to choke back the tears. He couldn't bear to see Frodo like this, so weak and broken, but he couldn't leave Merry to cope alone. Sam was sleeping, having made them promise to wake him if there were any problems. Taking Frodo's other hand, Pip began to chat aimlessly about everything and nothing, hoping to rouse his cousin from his delirium. He was busy rambling about meals at Great Smials and Bag End when Frodo's eyes flickered open and a tired voice whispered,

       "Don't you ever talk about anything but food, Peregrin Took?"

       Pip was too startled and relieved to think of a smart answer but merely hugged Frodo gently. Merry woke with a start and smiled as he saw Frodo stirring.

       "Hello, Fro! Would you like a drink?" He propped his cousin tenderly against his shoulder and held the glass to his lips. Frodo drank a whole glassful of clear water and struggled to sit up. "No, no, just rest. You're probably a bit weak at the moment."

       "How long have I been ill?"

       "Almost two weeks, dear. You fainted in the study, do you remember?"

       Frodo shook his head, his eyes confused and frightened. "I'm getting worse, aren't I? Every time it is worse and takes longer to recover. I don't know, Merry............I......................." He fumbled for the white jewel on its chain and gripped it convulsively. "No," he murmured to himself, "I will not give in to it. I will not!" For a moment his eyes blazed with an un-natural light and then gradually became quiet again. His lids fluttered closed and he slept easily now the fever had left him. Merry and Pip exchanged relieved glances. It was over - for now, they thought.

       In fact their troubles were just beginning.

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