“Hand me that jar of oil, would you Frodo?” Merry requested, as he stirred something set on a small table in front of him. Things were gradually getting back to normal in Minas Tirith. The city was beginning to taking shape again and food more plentiful than it had been even a few weeks. Frodo's health was gradually improving, he and the other Hobbits were now being allowed, at their request, to prepare their own meals with the food that was provided for them. Hobbit-sized tables and cooking utensils were set out, but no one had thought it necessary to provide smaller bowls or pans knowing how much hobbits ate when they could.

“Certainly here it is. What are you making?” Frodo asked looking curiously into the large, red ceramic bowl Merry was stirring.

“I'm going to have a casserole that I made with the food leftover from last night. With the food still rather scarce we want to make good use of all it. And I'll have a few loaves of bread, because there seems to enough of that for everyone,” Merry replied as he oiled a steel cooking pan and poured the mixture into it. “And I'm going fry these lightly and have them as a side dish.” He pointed to a bowl filled with chopped vegetables.

“Fry them?” Frodo asked, a bit surprised.

“Yes, I thought it would be interesting to do something a bit different,” Merry replied. ”And what are you going to have?”

“Not much,” Frodo stated matter of factly, “just a loaf or two of the bread that was made earlier and some tea.” Merry looked at Frodo with concern as he spoke. That certainly didn't sound like enough for a full-grown Hobbit. “I'm just beginning to get my appetite back,” Frodo explained. “This is going to be the most I've had since Sam and I got plucked from the slopes....”

“Good morning, Master Pheriannath,” a cheerful voice called from the entrance. Frodo and Merry looked up to see a woman wearing the blue and grey uniform of a kitchen worker.

“Good morning, my lady, Elara is not?” Frodo replied politely.

“That is correct,” the woman told him, bowing her head respectfully. “I was sent here to see if either of you needed anything.”

“It would be nice to have some windows open,” Merry said offhandedly, “but other than that I think we can manage by ourselves.” Accordingly, Elara tried to open one of the windows, but finding it stuck, moved on the next ones only to find them stuck too.

“If you can't open them, don't worry about it,” Frodo assured her. “A breeze would be nice, but we feel comfortable enough without it.”

“You can use the frying pan, if you like, Frodo,” Merry said as he prepared his meal by the hearth. “I wouldn't need it for a while.”

“Master Meriadoc, I..... “ Elara began, meaning to say, “I would rather you let me handle it.” Seeing however that the Hobbits had done managed so far without incident and not wanting to be intrusive, she decided against it. The matter would have been quickly forgotten but when Merry picked up the frying pan, he was caught off guard by how heavy it was and nearly dropped it. His accidentally hit a large bag of sugar and knocked it into the hearth. Flames sprang up instantly and Merry tried to extinguish them, but -- too late--they had already spread to the pan and were burning the sugar in it. Elara frantically tried to open the windows as the kitchen filled with smoke. After a few fruitless tugs, she ran into to hall and yelled for help.

Frodo stood for minute, paralyzed with fear. The memories of Mount Doom were again before him. He could feel the intense heat and seeing the flaming rocks again and the ground seemed to crumble under his feet. Sulfuric fumes seemed to choke the breath out of him, but worst of all was the overwhelming despair as he sensed that it was over for him. At that moment, however it somehow occurred to him that Merry was still in the room. There was no hope for him, he thought, but perhaps there was hope for his cousin.

“Get out, Merry!” he shouted, dashing over to the nearest pump and filled a pot with water. Ignoring the urge to panic that was rising inside him, Frodo pushed the frying pan off the grate and threw the water at the fire which instantly doused it but the smoke become thicker . Frodo wavered a step or two towards the door before, overcome, he slumped to the floor. This was the end of all things, he realized as he fell to the ground, praying silently that Merry had escaped.

Aragorn and Arwen, who with Faramir had been taking a tour of their new residence, dashed into the hall when they heard Elara's frantic cry and were horrified to see Merry dragging his unconscious cousin out of the smoked filled kitchen. Arwen opened the windows in the kitchen while Aragorn pulled Frodo away from the entrance and checked his breathing and pulse. Merry tried to rush to Frodo's side, but Faramir held him back.

“Let the King take care of Frodo,” he told him, “and while he does, maybe you could tell us what happened?”

“Frodo and I were making our second breakfasts,” Merry began, trying to keep his voice from quavering. “ and I got a frying pan for the other things I wanted, but the frying pan turned out to be heavier than I expected and then I... dropped it and... “ Merry's voice failed him at that point.

“The pan knocked a bag of sugar and started a fire,” Elara told them, still visibly upset herself. “It was my fault; I should have put the sugar in a safer place and I most certainly should have assisted Master Meriadoc.”

“I should have asked for your help!” Merry countered. “It was all my fault for thinking I could do it myself!”

“Nobody expects an accident,” Faramir wisely pointed out, taking advantage of Merry's distraction to check him for injuries. “And from what I can see no one was entirely at fault so please don't blame yourselves.”

Others who were gathering in the hall, concerned about the Ring-bearer's welfare, also offered reassured to Merry and Elara. Aragorn, momentarily distracted glanced at Merry, then Elara. Both were clearly shaken but apparentally unharmed. When he looked back at Frodo, however, he gasped and all colour drained from his face. He said nothing out loud, but everyone in the hall knew at once what happened. Frodo had stopped breathing!

Aragorn forcing himself to stay calm, clapped his mouth over Frodo's and gave him two slow breaths. The sense of dread in atmosphere was intense, and growing heavier every second.

Time seemed to stand still for the next few heartbeats, but Frodo sputtered and began to cough when Aragorn gave him a third breath. There was collective sigh of relief from everyone in the hall as Aragorn turned Frodo on his side. “Frodo, it's Strider,” he said softly. ”Are you all right?”

Frodo's eyes, which had been had been wandering around unfocused, looked up
anxiously. “What happened?” he whispered, still too dazed to think clearly, but becoming aware of an increasingly painful throat.

“You breathed in some smoke it seems,” Aragorn told him, “not enough to hurt most people, but I expected your lungs may have been weakened at Mount Doom.”

Smoke! Of course, there had been a fire in kitchen! Now Frodo remembered. “Where's Merry?” he cried. “Is he all right? And what happened to Elara?”

“Right over here, Frodo,” Merry called. “Don't worry, we're both all right. You put the fire out before anything happened to me and Elara was already out.” Frodo nodded; he seemed to remember seeing Elara rush out as the pan caught fire.

Aragorn picked Frodo up and carried him over to a table that had been brought out at Arwen's direction. “Please, take care of Merry and Elara first,” Frodo objected.

“Don't argue with the King,” Merry admonished as Aragorn nodded firmly in agreement. Any further protest on Frodo's part was cut off by an uncontrollable urge to cough.

Aragorn laid Frodo carefully on the table while Arwen supported his back and shoulders, making sure Frodo could see Merry and Elara and they could see him. “No burns or other injuries that I can see,” Aragorn said after he loosened Frodo's clothes and examined him. “Are you hurting anywhere? ” Frodo nodded and placed his hand on his neck. His throat now felt like it was on fire, and he feared that speaking would make it worse.

“Your throat?” Aragorn inquired. Frodo nodded again. “All right, let me look at it.” Frodo opened his mouth obediently, feeling too sick to even consider objecting. After a careful visual inspection, Aragorn gently felt around the side Frodo's neck and concluded, "No damage as far I can tell, but it looks painful.

Frodo nodded again, his eyes watering slightly.Aragorn smiled sympathetically. “It should feel better in a day or two,” he said reassuringly and bent his head down to Frodo's chest. “Take a deep breath.” Frodo tried to, but it only made him cough again.

Aragorn's alarm was less apparent this time, but it was there nevertheless as he realized Frodo's condition might be more serious than he had initially thought. While Arwen comforted Frodo to the best her abilities, Aragorn went to confirm that Merry and Elara were all right physically and emotionally. When satisfied on that account, he spoke briefly to the bystanders who on his instructions, took off in two different directions looking relieved to be able to do something. Elara could have been excused from these responsibilities, having been through what she did, but she would have none of that. She had to spend her time doing something until it was known whether Ring-bearer would be all right.

Aragorn let Merry and Faramir talk to Frodo for a minute. Frodo seemed cheered a bit by this, but resisted when Aragorn picked him up again. “It's all right, Frodo. You're going to come with me now,” Aragorn told him soothingly, “and you, Lord Faramir, are going to take my place at the council meeting this afternoon using the royal seal”. Faramir looked up in alarm. “While Queen Arwen tends to Master Meriadoc,” he added with a smile.

“As you wish, my King,” Faramir replied, visibly relieved as Arwen took his place by Merry's side.

Arwen led Merry into a more comfortable room to recover from his shock. Faramir bowed and went back through the doors they had come in, and Aragorn and Frodo disappeared into a utility tunnel. It was going to be a long afternoon for all concerned.

Completely exhausted from his ordeal, Frodo fell asleep as Aragorn was carrying him. When he woke up, he again seemed to be lying on a table. He could hear what sounded like running water and a warm earthy scent hung in the air. Frodo wondered for a minute if he had died, but he quickly became aware of the painful, burning sensation in his throat. Opening his eyes slightly, he saw plants everywhere he looked and they seemed to be shrouded in mist. Or was it smoke? Terrified, he tried to scramble off the table, but felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don't be afraid,” someone said. Looking up, he saw Aragorn.

“It's all right, you're safe,” the king assured Frodo, helping him sit up placing a large bag of sand behind him for support. Then he offered some cold water for his throat, which Frodo sipped gratefully as Aragorn checked his breathing and general condition. His eyes widened with curiosity as he looked around this new place. It was filled with plants he never saw before and fountains were splashing water onto hot stones to create steam. What impressed Frodo most of all, however was the ceiling. It was made entirely of glass and angled in such way that it filled the room with light.

“You're in the greenhouse,” Aragorn told him. “This is where they grow exotic plants and flowers under controlled conditions. I brought you here because the high humidity would be soothing for your respiratory system.” Frodo nodded, that certainly made sense. “And because it's quiet,” he added. “No one comes in here at this time of the day.”

There was a loud crash as soon as he said that, however and a number of clay pots fell to the ground and shattered. “Well, almost no one,” Aragorn laughed.

Sam dashed over to the table, narrowly avoiding a wall lined with equipment. “Mr. Frodo, you're awake! Thank goodness!” he gasped with relief. “Thank you for taking care of him, Mr. Strider. And I'm sorry about those pots I broke.”

“You're welcome, Sam, and don't worry about the pots. They can easily replaced,” Aragorn replied. “May I have my healer's kit please?” Sam handed to him, looking slightly embarrassed for a minute, then both Hobbits looked up imploringly at him. The king smiled and placed Sam on the table next to Frodo. Frodo leaned against Sam gratefully and laid his head on Sam's shoulder. He would have been content if not for the discomfort of his throat.

The four Hobbits were planning to eat their meals together and Sam had been in the greenhouse looking for some flowers to decorate their table. He had almost decided which ones when Aragorn brought Frodo, who was apparently unconscious over to the table.

Sam was, of course devastated to see Frodo in that condition and wanted to stay by his side, but quickly realized his help was needed in a more practical way so he had gone to get Aragorn's healing kit at his request.

“Mr. Frodo, I was so worried about you,” Sam told him, with a quiver in his voice. “When I saw you lying like that I thought.... Do tell me the truth, Mr. Strider, is he going to be all right?”

“He should be,” Aragorn replied, “with plenty of rest and the right medicine.” He took out some bottles as spoke and placed on a shelf next to him. Frodo winced when he heard the word medicine and Aragorn, noticing this smiled sympathetically and was about to reassure him when Elara appeared in the doorway. Frodo gave her a smile and waved weakly as she entered.

“My lord,” she reported, “Master Frodo's room has been prepared as you instructed."

“Thank you, Lady Elara,” Aragorn replied. “Perhaps you could prepare some soft food as well and bring it to him there?”

“Yes sire,” she said, returning Frodo's smile and curtsied as she left.

“Take a few drops of these tinctures and rest for a while,” Aragorn told Frodo gently, “then we'll take you to your room where it's more comfortable.” Frodo nodded, thankful for the fact that he didn't have to take anything else at that time.

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

Merry glanced anxiously around the sitting room that Arwen had taken him to. The room, with its light turquoise walls, deep green velvet furniture and painting that depicting scenes of meadows and woodlands provided a soothing atmosphere well suited for conversation. So did the blazing fire in the white marble hearth and the faint but unmistakable scent of lavender oil in the mithril lamps. Merry, however, seemed not to notice these things. Arwen had offered to have food brought to him, but he was too upset to eat. Indeed, it had taken her almost half an hour just to persuade him to sit down.

“Frodo was doing so well,” Merry said at last, with a note of despair in his voice. “If his recovery was set back because of me... “

“No Merry, it would not be because of you,” Arwen corrected him gently but firmly, “rather, because of his condition. When people have that many bad things happen to them they always considerable require time to heal.”

If they can heal at all, she thought gravely. There was a knock at the door that moment and when Arwen opened it, Pippin entered, still dressed in the black and silver uniform of the tower guard.

“My lady,” he said gravely and bowed his head. Then he ran over to Merry and hugged him tightly. “I just heard what happened,” he said anxiously. “Are you all right?”

“Yes Pippin, I'm fine but Frodo... “ Merry began.

“Yes, what happened to Frodo?”

Merry hesitated before he answered, not sure of all the facts. “Well, there was a fire in the kitchen and he fainted. Strider said it was because he breathed in too much smoke, but what worries me more than anything was the look on his face just before he went down. He looked like he was seeing something terrible.”

“He's still having bad memories no doubt,” Pippin commented sadly.

Arwen, who had remained silent throughout this dialog, silently stroking the white jewel around her neck, now smiled at the two Hobbits. “Frodo should be back in his room now,” she told them. “Shall we go and see him?”

It was late afternoon. Arwen was sitting alone by a large window overlooking the sea. The deepening blue colours reminded her of Frodo's eyes, although they no longer sparkled like the sea, she realized sadly.

But they will again, she thought. We must have faith in that.

She closed her own blue-grey eyes, as if in prayer, but was suddenly startled out of her contemplation by a knock at the parlour door. She arose gracefully and opened it. Elara entered pushing a cart with trays of food for the hobbits. Faramir, who was now finished at the council meeting and had come to see Frodo, entered right behind her. Suddenly, a piercing scream came from the bedroom where Aragorn and the other hobbits were attending to Frodo. A violent coughing fit followed. Elara froze with horror. Faramir drew his sword and would have burst into the room, but Arwen stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Just another nightmare, Mr. Frodo. It's all right now," Sam's gentle voice came from inside.

"Yes, Frodo, we're here for you," Merry told him.

"There's way anyone can hurt you while we're here," Pippin added.

"Certainly not," Aragorn said firmly.

"My lady, has this been going on all afternoon?" Elara gasped when she recovered enough to speak.

"It has indeed," Arwen sighed. "It seems just when Frodo is almost asleep, another terrible dream wakes him back up."

"How unfair that he continues to suffer," commented Faramir sadly as he re-sheathed his sword, "even now when he should have peace and healing."

"His suffering is only temporary," Arwen said cryptically, touching the white jewel around her neck. "I believe with all my heart that Frodo will find peace and healing, if not on Middle Earth.... " she gestured out at the sea, letting her voice trail off. Elara and Faramir said nothing but looked at each other, wondering what this could mean.

"I believe we can see Frodo now," Arwen said at last. "Things seem as normal as can be expected in there now." She strolled over to the bedroom door and opened it after knocking. Frodo was still breathing rapidly, lying in Sam's arms and holding Pippin's hands. Merry, who appeared to be preparing a medicinal tea, was casting anxious glances in Frodo's direction, as if to make sure he was all right.

Aragorn checked Frodo's pulse and finding that it was now stable, nodded for Arwen, Elara and Faramir to enter. The hobbits were delighted to see them. Even Frodo looked a bit happier as chatted, which made Aragorn regret greatly what he had to do next.

“Thank you, Lady Elara. That looks delicious!” Frodo exclaimed as she set out his meal.

“It probably will be,” Aragorn told him with a smile. “But first, you have to take some of this.” He produced a dark brown bottle.

“Not that horrible medicine again!” Frodo cried.

"Yes, Frodo, I'm afraid it is,” Aragorn replied firmly. “You need it to prevent a respiratory infection and mullein, lung wort, thyme and licorice root tincture shouldn't taste that bad anyway.”

"It could be worse,” Frodo admitted. “It's just that .... well... you give every time I wake up screaming and coughing, which I think was three times today and it was the first thing you gave me when I woke up from that healing sleep after Mount Doom and every two hours after that so... well, I'm tired of it that's all.” Aragorn nodded sadly when he realized what Frodo was telling him. It wasn't the medicine itself that bothered him, but the memories he had come to associate with it.

"Now Mr. Frodo, you know it's important,” Sam pointed out.

“I suppose so,” Frodo sighed. “All right, I'll take it.” He swallowed the tincture as quickly as he could when Aragorn gave it to him, then took a large drink of water to wash it down. He became even more depressed when Merry came over with another thing he had to take.

“You'll like this medicine, Frodo,” Merry promised, seeing Frodo's crestfallen expression. Frodo looked doubtful about that, but his face brightened as soon as he tasted it. “Wild berry and ginger tea with honey,” he said. “Just like we used to have in the Shire. We even picked the berries ourselves for our afternoon tea.”

“Weren't those days fun?” Pippin said. “Maybe, Frodo, when you feel better we can and pick berries together again. Of course, we'd have to do some reading first to make sure we only got safe ones.”

“I'd like that very much,” Frodo said cheerfully. “And I'm sure I'll plenty for reading, because I don't think Strider's going to let me here any time soon.” Everyone laughed and was glad to see Frodo enjoying some happiness, at least temporarily.