Autor notes:
This story was written for Marigold's Challenge #27. The requirements were the elements, earth, fire, water, and air and a time of day.

Special thanks to Ariel for her mindful beta.

~*~*~

Awakening

First there was fire. Ash, fume and smoke blurring his vision and choking his breath. Flames danced before his closing eyes. A wheel of fire spun before him and moved ever closer. The heat coming from it was unbearable. It numbed him, made his head spin. Frodo stumbled backwards but the sharp rocks bit deeply into his already wounded flesh. His feet, black from the ashes they had trodden, throbbed with pain.

Feeling he could go no further Frodo suddenly stood still, legs trembling and body swaying. He was weary beyond measure. His heartbeat was a deafening pounding in his ears, his breathing a painful, useless effort. His lungs were burning and his swollen tongue seemed too big for his parched mouth.

There was nothing but the misty grey of his drifting mind; nothing but the ever advancing wheel of fire. Frodo looked closely at the flickering flames, too weak to avoid their dazzling presence.

Claim me! Claim me and you will be free!

It was the promise of a low voice whose laughter, jeers, and whispers had been his constant companions for weeks beyond remembering.

Frodo took another step backwards. He was hardly aware of the new trickle of blood running down his right heel. With an effort he mustered the last bit of will and the last whit of strength left to him and shook his head. He wouldn't have found the voice to speak.

This seemed to anger the wheel. For a moment the flames grew stronger and brighter than before. Sweat poured down Frodo's dust-streaked face, dropped into his already burning eyes, and made them water.

Why torture yourself, was the seductive whisper, when there is joy and pleasure waiting for you?

Frodo's lids dropped wearily. He did not move.

Claim me!

The voice rumbled through the darkness like thunder. The earth trembled under its command. Frodo faltered as the debris beneath his feet started moving. He fell flat onto his stomach and it was by mere luck that he wasn't carried away by the stones.

Claim me! Claim me! Claim me!

It was a repeating echo in his head, getting louder with each word. Frodo heard a cry like that of the Nazgûl, piercing his mind until he thought his ears would burst. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to cry out his agony but no sound would come from his chapped lips.

The fire was closer now, engulfing him. He felt his skin sizzle as he reached for his neck, groping for something that was not there. He could fight no longer. This was the end of ends.

~*~*~

And then there was darkness.

Exhausted and weak he lay on the ground, blinking wearily. He could perceive nothing, but felt dizzy. The fire was gone, the pain a mere memory. The world was silent. Frodo heaved a sigh of relief, feeling that the tightness in his chest was eased. He did not mind the blackness surrounding him, nor the chill that left him shivering after the long heat. He was free.

Frodo!

This voice was new to him. It was softer than the other, stirring a strength Frodo had thought his body no longer possessed. He struggled to lift his head in search of its origin.

In the distance, he saw a clear, golden light. A sudden fear caught him and the tautness returned to his chest and every hair on his body stood on end. A shiver ran down his spine. Was that it? Had It found him here? Blindly Frodo staggered to his feet searching in vain for something to hold onto.

Do not fear, Frodo.

As before, Frodo stumbled backwards. He felt helpless, caught, as the golden gleam came ever closer, revealing to him the figure of a Man. He was tall and stern, proud as the Kings of Old and Frodo trembled, remembering the Ringwraiths.

But then he saw the stranger's eyes. They had not the mercilessness of the Witch-king's stare but were kind and caring. Frodo paused and as he watched the Man with curiosity and awe, the tenseness ebbed from his body, leaving him surprisingly at ease with this new situation.

Do not fear, the stranger repeated. I have been looking for you, my friend. You have wandered in darkness long and far. Do not linger where no light reaches. Come back with me. Come back to the land of the living.

Frodo hesitated when the Man offered him his sparkling hand. The words comforted him and he felt glad for the stranger's presence, but doubt ruled his heart. Too long he had been lured by false promises. Too often his very soul had been abused by cruel, evil hands. He dared not trust.

"I cannot go."

Frodo looked down at this new, yet not unfamiliar voice, and there was he, a mere child, twelve years of age, with eyes as lonely and forlorn as his heart now felt.

"I do not belong there anymore," the young one whispered and Frodo shuddered at the memory of loneliness and despair that had gripped him after his parents' death.

Tears welled up inside him and his legs gave way when the little one placed his small hands in his own. Was he speaking or was this the fear of the child he had once been? Could he reach out when he dared not even trust his own heart? Could he will himself to move on, when he felt as heartbroken and stranded as this lonely child? And wasn't the child right? What waited for him out there? He was alone.

Frodo, this is over. You have moved on. You have found your way and done marvellously on the road.

"But I am lost." It was the first time Frodo heard his own voice speaking and its weak and doubtful tone frightened him.

You will find a new path. Perhaps not immediately, but you have friends on your side who will catch you should you stumble.

Frodo looked up at the stranger in wonder as he beckoned him again. Suddenly a flood of memories washed over him: a toddler crawling towards him with smiling face and sparkling blue eyes; a delighted young voice calling his name; a head of auburn curls peeking out from underneath his own blanket while a small body huddled close against his for shelter; and suddenly he recognised them all - Merry, Sam, Pippin, Fatty Bolger - sitting in the house at Crickhollow with earnest faces, and the voice of memory sounded in his head.

'You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin - to the bitter end.' **

"Yes," Frodo muttered at last, new hope sparkling in his empty eyes, "I have friends."

As if his own words had awakened his spirit, Frodo got to his feet and reached for the King's hand. Immediately, new warmth filled his body driving away all numbness and exhaustion. It seemed to Frodo that the darkness had already crumbled and he smiled thankfully at his saviour. Then he turned to the young one - but the child was nowhere to be seen. Frodo frowned, but the King shook his head and gave Frodo's hand a reassuring squeeze to show that he was on the right path.

~*~*~

Last of all there were the dreams. They were memories of light and joy and he forgot his toils and troubles, and his weariness passed.

Frodo saw them all: Merry, Pippin, Bilbo, couples and children dancing round the Party Tree during one of the fairs. His heart welled up at the sight and he rejoiced in the sound of their laughter and song.

Sometimes there were new voices. They were not unpleasant but every time he wanted to see the faces they belonged to he found he could not open his eyes. Some of them sounded familiar, but Frodo could not remember when he had heard them before.

At other times, Frodo felt someone holding his hand, but never found the strength to answer the touch. It irritated him to have no control over his body. Now and again he would fight the heaviness that had taken hold of every limb, but could not overcome it. Then one day he recognised the smell of the herbs that wafted around him. Their scent was teasingly familiar, but he could not remember where he had smelled them before.

Wearily, Frodo opened his eyes only to grumble discontentedly as the warm sunlight blinded him. He felt as if he had slept the day away after a long night in The Green Dragon and didn't much like the idea of getting up or even of breakfast. But sunlight is hard to deny and Frodo found the golden beams following him even through his closed lids.

He gave it another try and, after some blinking, he discovered that he was not in Bag End at all. Above him wide beechen boughs swayed in a gentle breeze and the sunlight sparkled through their leaves.

"Where am I?" he whispered groggily, frowning.

"You're in Ithilien and it is nine o'clock in the morning."

Frodo remembered the voice but the sound of it brought forth a flood of unpleasant memories. The Ring, the fellowship, their long journey through Moria, Gandalf's fall, Lothlórien, Boromir trying to take the Ring from him, Gollum leading them into the tunnel, and then - Frodo gasped - Mordor. For a moment he was lost in recollections but immediately forgot about them when a gentle hand was placed on his brow.

Again Frodo blinked and discovered Gandalf smiling down at him. He was clad all in white and his garment shone as if the sun itself had lent him her light. Frodo gaped in wonder. "I must still be dreaming," he thought.

"I can assure you, you are not," Gandalf answered as if reading his mind. "How do you feel?"

"You fell," Frodo said, ignoring the question and struggling to sit up.

Gandalf nodded. "I did, but I have returned and I am with you now."

"How?" Frodo whispered, unable to believe his eyes. He had regretted Gandalf's loss uncountable times, and on each occasion, the painful memory of the fall would resurface and he would feel the loss of his beloved friend and guide even more keenly. It was too much to hope for that he was truly back. It could not be true.

"That is a long story, my friend," replied Gandalf, "and this is not the time to tell it."

Frodo stared at the wizard a moment longer. Then he started to laugh, a rich, booming laugh from the heart. Gandalf joined him. The pleasant sound ripped down even the last barriers of Frodo's doubts. This was his old friend. This was Gandalf, changed perhaps with his hair white as snow, but as close and grave as ever. Relief washed over him like a wave and he felt dizzy with joy. It was an emotion he had thought himself no longer capable of. "Then all is done?" he breathed, hardly daring to voice his thought. "All is over now?"

The wizard nodded. "You're task is accomplished. The Dark Lord fell and Barad-dûr is no more."

Overwhelmed, Frodo fell back onto his pillows. This was all too much for him. Gandalf alive, the quest fulfilled, he lying on a bed in Ithilien, and Sam…

Frodo felt a shiver running down his spine. "Where…" he began but never finished his question for as he sat up again he recognised another bed next to his. Samwise Gamgee, his faithful friend and gardener lay in it. His hair shimmered in the morning sun and his face looked peaceful. "Is he well?"

Gandalf came to Frodo's side and helped him get to his feet. "He is sleeping, but I trust he will wake up soon."

Frodo felt rather wobbly on his feet and was glad for Gandalf's support as he went to stand next to the bed. His friend indeed slept contently, a deep slumber Frodo knew Sam hadn't had in many a week. Sadly he bowed his head and took the hand resting on the coverlet into his. "Dear Sam. I wouldn't have managed without him. He has a strong will. He sees hope where there is none - and yet he was right all along. The tale's got a happy-ending after all, one, I think, even began to doubt would happen, in the end." Frodo closed his eyes struggling to put his memories into order. The Ring had made him blind to everything around him and yet he remembered the strength Sam had mustered and the sacrifices he had made to keep them going. "No, I wouldn't have got far without him."

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder and Frodo allowed himself to lean against Gandalf.

"Do not worry about him, Frodo," Gandalf comforted him. "You and Sam have accomplished more than anyone else could have. It does credit to you both. I doubt either of you would have gone on without the other. You have both shown remarkable strength and courage, my dear hobbit. It will not do to burden your heart with things that cannot be changed. Be comforted now. Sam is recovering splendidly and I'm sure he will be glad to see you up and about as well, when he wakes."

Frodo sighed heavily, his eyes catching his bandaged right hand. He studied it for a moment with a frown, turning it this way and that. "Sméagol," he whispered after a while. "He got the Ring in the end and I… he…" Frodo shuddered and fell silent.

"Do you remember when I told you that I think even he had some part to play yet? He finally got what he had lived for and is now at peace."

Frodo did not answer but Gandalf was content to see the lines of worry ease away from his face. "Is there anything you desire?" he inquired.

"Yes," Frodo answered without thought, looking at the wizard with a smile. "I see things have changed greatly since our last meeting. Tell me about it, Gandalf. Walk with me for a while, and tell me about what happened to you and the others. Perhaps I shall even be able to tell you a little about myself, though my memory is confused."

"I have already seen more than you might guess," the wizard said with a wink at Frodo's open face. "Come now; let us greet this spring morning. Breathe in the fragrance of Ithilien. It will do you good."

So it was that the wizard led him out of the beech grove to a long, green lawn. Frodo closed his eyes at the feel of the soft, green grass beneath his feet. He had forgotten the sensation of grass blades tickling his toes and it amazed him how easy it was to walk when he did not need to worry about sharp rocks and stones.

Frodo took his time ambling across the lawn. Gandalf was ever beside him watching and offering support which Frodo thanked him for but did not take. He breathed in deeply the air of Ithilien, a fresh, clear fragrance filling him with the sweetness of spring and the vigour of summer. This time he was able to divine the herbs: sage, parsley, marjoram, and other sweet smells that could occupy his senses for hours and hours.

He strained his ears to catch all the noises in the air. Blackbirds were calling, finches singing, the leaves of the trees bordering the lawn were rustling in the gentle breeze. Frodo could also make out the sound of falling water and the soft gurgle of a tiny stream. He felt as if he had never heard anything more beautiful.

They sat down at the bank of a stream. Round stones and some weeds filled its bed and Frodo drank in the sight of the glittering water. It sparkled in the colours of the rainbow and when Frodo knelt down and reached out his left hand to have a sip of the clear water he declared it sweeter than any wine. After his thirst was stilled Frodo splashed some of the cold water into his face. It made him gasp, yet he shivered with delight when he felt the cold drops running over his cheeks and dripping from his chin. He took in all sensation, all tastes and smells.

"I'd never dreamed this would happen," Frodo said disbelievingly after a while, his eyes glistening in the sunlight. His body might have recalled some of its former strength, but his mind had forgotten how to live. "I could not remember smell or taste or thirst or hunger, or…," he almost stumbled over his own words. "There was nothing there, Gandalf. Nothing but ash, and smoke, and…," he took a deep breath to remind himself that it all was over now. He was alive. After so many days without hope he was really alive.

Thoughtfully, he closed his eyes refocusing on his surroundings: smells, sounds, and the peace that filled him. He felt as if all his doubts and shattered hopes had been taken from him just by his sitting at the bank and listening. He had been numb, but this was the hour of wakening - of freeing his spirit from the Ring's dominion.

All of a sudden he burst into the same heartfelt laughter he had uttered earlier that morning. "I cannot believe I'm here. There are so many things I want to do, I cannot decide where to begin."

Frodo had half a mind to jumping to his feet and do whatever caught his attention first, but Gandalf stopped him with a wave of his and. "Easy, lad," he said with a fond smile. "You will have plenty of time to do everything you wish. For now, I think it is best to just content yourself with settling in again. You have been asleep for quite a while and should not overstrain yourself yet."

"All right," Frodo answered with a sigh, trying to ease his restlessness, "but first you have to tell me about my cousins. Are they well? And what about Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn?"

Gandalf laughed. "A most unquenchable hobbit; just like the other two. Merry and Pippin are both doing well. They have caused some trouble and got their share of adventure, but I'm sure they would rather tell you their tales themselves. You will meet them today, as well as the rest of our fellowship."

Frodo closed his eyes and lay back on the soil letting the sun warm his face. "Your words comfort me. I thought of my cousins and the others several times, especially after Captain Faramir told us about Boromir's passing. I feared they might have found a similar end." He took a deep breath in order to shake away intruding memories. "Despite the fact of being glad to have Merry and Pippin with me at the beginning of our journey, I felt sorry for allowing them to come with me, though I know I never had a chance of holding them back." He looked thoughtful for a while. "At least Pippin I should have stopped. Paladin will rip my head off when we return to the Shire, as will Saradoc most likely."

"The young Took has caused some trouble indeed," said Gandalf with a smile, "but it turned out it was all for the better. He has grown during his journey - you all have."

Frodo opened one eye to peer at the wizard. "You can tell that by being with me for less than an hour?"

"I have been with you for many long days, Frodo Baggins," Gandalf announced with a slight gravity. "Besides I knew you even before Bilbo made you his heir. I can tell you have changed."

A grin stole across Frodo's face. "You might have changed the colour of your robe, Gandalf - and you still need to tell me how that came to pass - but you're as grumpy as ever." He yawned and sat up suddenly overcome by drowsiness. "I think I shall take your advice and return to my bed now. Besides, I wouldn't want Sam to wake up and find no one there to greet him."

That said, Frodo rose and together they returned to the grove. Gandalf took pity on him and told him about his fight with the Balrog and what happened after Frodo saw him fall. But before he could finish his tale, Frodo was asleep again and did not wake until Sam's laughter roused him that noon.

~THE END~

~~~~~~

** The Fellowship of the Ring - A Conspiracy Unmasked