This story was a graveyard fic of the talented and wonderful Elwen. After her one glorious chapter she issued a challenge to see if anyone could continue the story. Although I do not feel I am a writer anyway near the caliber of Elwen, I wanted to give it a try, and so here is Chapter 2 of Twists of Fate formerly known as Elwen’s Challenge Fic. Thanks to Elwen for doing the hard part...starting the story and for acting as proofreader to my ideas.

Disclaimers: None of the characters or places in this story are owned by myself or Elwen, all rights belong to the Tolkien Estate. No financial compensation was received, only the joy of writing this AU story. Hope you enjoy.

Medical Disclaimers: Medical procedures and cures used in this piece of fiction, are also mostly of a fictitious nature and should not be used at home. Consult a licensed medical professional before being foolish enough to try these on yourself.

Chapter: 2

Further and further down Frodo fell into sweet oblivion. It was dark but, instead of being afraid, a wonderful peace emanated all about him. He could faintly hear Gandalf calling to him, but chose to ignore the wizard in favor of the pain free world he now floated in. He wasn't cold any more, feeling more like he had sunk into a soft featherbed with heavenly smelling quilts tucked in about him. Glimmers of distant memories passed languidly through his head. His mother spinning him on a rope swing, his father tossing him high into the sky as he squealed in delight, walking through endless fields of flowers with Bilbo; moments of inexplicable joy with none of the heartache that he had sometimes experienced in his real life. He saw his mum and da sitting on a high grassy hillock and slowly, began walking towards them. Everything in this world moved slowly, like molasses being poured into a bowl. Finally, he arrived next to his parents. They were having a picnic and Frodo noticed they had set a place for him on the gingham tablecloth. He sat down, smiling widely, "I have missed you so much. And while this should feel odd, I feel sitting here with you now is the most natural thing in the world to be doing."

"We have missed you too, dearest one. We have watched you from afar, enough to know how special you are to those around you," said his mother. She looked exactly as she had the last time Frodo had seen her, right down to the dress she had been wearing on that fateful day, so long ago. She smiled adoringly at him.

"You may visit for awhile, Frodo, but you cannot stay," said his Father as he reached out and tousled Frodo's curls. His father also had a serene look on his face, and frequently looked over at his wife with love in his eyes.

"But I want to stay here with you," Frodo cried. "Bag End is so empty now with Bilbo gone. I am so lonely. Why can't I be with you instead?" he whispered.

"It's not your time, son. You are only allowed to visit, for now. You have been hurt badly, but you still could heal and recover. Someday, we shall all be a family once again, but not just yet, Frodo," Drogo murmured. His mother pulled him into her lap. She combed his hair gently back with her fingers and began to hum a tune she had always sung to him when he was upset, as a lad. She began rocking him gently as if he were a small hobbit child, and Frodo felt a blissful warmth flood over him.

They ate the light meal of scones and cheese and drank the wine, and when they were sated, they lay on the tablecloth and watched the clouds, imagining different shapes and animals. His mother's tinkling laughter and his father's robust chuckle made Frodo feel safe and more loved than he had felt in a long time. He reveled in the time they had, allowing the warmth of their love to fill him with unimaginable happiness. He knew he wanted to stay here forever.

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Gandalf had tried everything to awaken Frodo and now there was a note of desperation in his voice as he continued to call out the hobbit's name. It had only been a few moments, but he could sense Frodo slipping away from him. He went to the bathing room and set coppers on the fire to heat water for the tub. Then he rushed to the front door, banging his head in his haste on a ceiling beam, and bolted outside. Immediately he spied what he sought. The Gamgee lad was working in one of the garden beds, mulching the potatoes and onions. In three or four quick strides Gandalf was upon him. He grasped the small shoulder and whirled the startled gardener around. Sam let out a high squeak as he was spun around to look up into the frightened countenance of the old wizard. The wizard's eyes held a glint of sheer panic, which caused Sam to gasp. He had never seen or even thought, that Gandalf the Grey could be frightened by anything.

"Ahhh! Mr. ...Ga....Gandalf...sir?" he stuttered and, wondering what he might have done to irritate the wizard, backed away in a panic. Gandalf knelt so he was eye to eye with Samwise.

"Frodo has been badly hurt and I need you to fetch a healer without delay!" he commanded in a rush into Samwise's confused face.

"Mr. Frodo? What happened? Where is he? " Sam looked about excitedly.

"I have no time for this, my dear hobbit! He is inside. He took a rather nasty tumble. Sam...It is Sam, is it not?" Gandalf asked impatiently while trying desperately to calm himself so as not to frighten the lad. Sam nodded a quick nod. "He needs a healer, and quickly," the wizard urged.

"But, Mr. Gandalf, sir, the only healer we got is Mistress Burrows and she's been in Straddle helpin' with the wet lung sickness they got oer there. There aint none other. Oh, me poor Master. I need to see him," Sam made to go, but Gandalf grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back.

"Samwise, Frodo could die if he's not cared for properly," Gandalf was immediately sorry he had said this, for Sam gasped and tears began to flow down his cheeks. Sam tried to go to Frodo again, and again Gandalf caught him by the collar and pulled him back. "Is there a fast rider in Hobbiton for emergency post or messages?" Sam was staring worriedly towards the entrance to Bag End and did not hear the wizard. Gandalf grabbed him and gave him a shake. "Samwise, pay attention. Is there anyone with a fast horse?" he spoke firmly and this time Sam responded.

"Oh...Aye, Otto Singleburrow has a horse; not a pony, mind ya, but a horse. 'Got it from Tuckbourough and he races it. He can ride hard and fast almost anywhere in the Shire and be there right quick, or so he says." Sam replied.

"Do you know where he is right now?" Gandalf pressed.

"Aye, he's most likely at the Green Dragon waitin' for customers. He gets quite a few who need packages or post delivered quick like." Sam offered.

Gandalf reached into his robes and pulled out a velvet purse filled with gold coin. "Tell him to come at once. I will have a letter that needs delivery to Bree in all haste. I am prepared to pay him extra, plus a night’s room and board at the Prancing Pony. Do you understand, Samwise?" Gandalf forced a weak smile onto his lips and looked deep into the gardener's eyes.

"Yessir, Mr. Gandalf, sir. I'll fetch 'em right quick." Before Gandalf could say more, Sam had hopped the fence and was running down the hill to Hobbiton.

Gandalf walked quickly back into the hobbit hole. The water was boiling. Frodo was still unconscious, his body shook as cold chills wracked his frame. Gandalf covered him in another thick quilt, gently brushed his gnarled hand across the sweaty forehead, and went to pen his letter. He had no trouble finding parchment and a quill and hurriedly wrote his note.

Aragorn

It is urgent you ride to Hobbiton in all due haste. An unfortunate accident has occurred and Bilbo's nephew, Frodo Baggins is in dire need of your healing skills. He has a broken leg that I have endeavored to splint for now, a sprained wrist and a gash on his left arm. Most alarming to me, however, is he has sustained a head injury coupled with hypothermia. He has lost consciousness and I have been unable to rouse him. Please, ride now to Bag End, Bagshot Row, Hobbiton. I await your arrival.

G (this was written in the Elvish rune)

He folded the parchment, placed it in an envelope and sealed it with his seal. On the envelope he wrote

Strider, Ranger of the North

Prancing Pony

Bree

He heard the approach of a galloping horse and ran to the porch to witness the arrival of a magnificent chestnut horse. Astride the horse were two small hobbits, one being Samwise and the other, Gandalf assumed, Otto Singleburrow. If the situation had not been so dire, Gandalf would have burst into laughter at the sight of the hobbits sitting astride the huge animal. The hobbits legs only came to the shoulder of the horse. Singleburrow had had a saddle specially made so that his legs fit into large hobbit sized stirrups, and hung high on the shoulders of the animal to accommodate a hobbit's short legs. The saddle was perched higher than usual so the legs could hang down into the shoulder stirrups instead of the uncomfortable position of across the wide back of the beast. Otto smiled over at Gandalf while the wizard helped Samwise down. Samwise looked flushed and windswept from his ride.

"Me name's Otto Singleburrow and I hear tell from Sam here you need a fast rider to deliver a post?" he asked looking at the wizard quizzically.

"Indeed. How fast can you get to Bree, my good fellow?" Gandalf asked with a grin.

"I've made it in one day and a night afore. I kin do it agin' for da right price," he smiled and gave a look of avarice to the wizard.

"Here are three gold coins, and I will give you two more if you bring the recipient of the letter back with you," Gandalf said. Singleburrow's mouth dropped open at this. It was a lot of gold for this run, it must be right important, he thought to himself.

"Done," he said. Wondering if he should've bartered for more. 'No sense bein' greedy, Otto' he thought to himself. 'Sides it don' pay to get dim wizards all riled up', or so he'd heard.

"Here, my good hobbit," Gandalf said as he handed the coins to Otto. "And here is the post. Make sure to deliver it directly to the Ranger known as Strider. I do not want it simply left with Butterbur...he can be...ummmm, forgetful, I have found," Gandalf spoke with urgency.

"Aye, that he is, sir. What if dis Ranger ain’t about?" Otto asked.

"Then you are to wait for him, Master Singleburrow. He frequents the 'Pony' and usually prefers to sit in a corner. He is usually there in the early evening until the common room is closed," Gandalf instructed.

"Very well. If there's naught else sir, I'll be off then," Otto said. Gandalf nodded and stepped away as the horse and its small occupant sprinted down the road in the direction of Bree. Sam and Gandalf walked briskly back to the hobbit hole and into where Frodo lay huddled on the bed. Sam gasped at the sight of the muddy, bloodied body of his Master.

"Me poor Mr. Frodo. I shoulda' gone with ya'," he lamented as he gently stroked Frodo's face.

"Come, Samwise. We must wash away the mud to see if there are any further injuries. He will need to be kept warm, and we need to try and wake him. I have had no success. When I found him, he was very cold and quarrelsome. I had to keep him awake asking a lot of inane questions." Gandalf chuckled. "He was quite perturbed that I would not allow him to go to sleep. He has a bad concussion and hypothermia in addition to his other injuries. Gandalf pulled back the lids of Frodo's eyes and checked the pupils. The wizard's face reflected deepening concern. "Samwise, do you have anything we could use to rouse him?" the wizard looked hopefully into the gardener's frightened eyes.

"Me mum makes a concoction that she uses on da's shirts to get them white. It smells somethin' awful, makes yer eyes water, it does. It might work." he looked at Gandalf hopefully.

"I will get Frodo bathed and tucked into his bed, you run along and get Mistress Gamgee's 'cure', my boy. Samwise, if we can't get Frodo awake..." the wizard hesitated, not wishing to frighten the servant, but wanting Sam to know what they were up against. "Er...concussions are very serious, is what I meant to say, Samwise..." Gandalf wondered if he should not elaborate further when he saw the panicked look flowing into Sam's face.

"What are you sayin', Mr. Gandalf, sir?" Sam's voice was quavering, and he spoke slowly.

Gandalf placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and looked at Sam with sympathy. "If we can't rouse him, Sam, he may never wake," the wizard said as gently as he could.

Sam's eyes grew large, but his face held a look of grim determination. He rose suddenly and rushed out the door heading towards #3 Bagshot Row.

"Mr. Frodo's not dyin' if I've got anything to say about it," he muttered to himself breathlessly.