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Twists of Fate  by lovethosehobbits

Disclaimer: The characters and places depicted are all the creation of JRR Tolkien, and I am only trying to emulate him in my own small way. *sigh*.

Medical disclaimers: Methods of treatment and medicines used have been researched for validity, however are used in this story simply for fictional purposes. In other words, don't try this at home; seek a professional-- yadda, yadda, yadda.

A/N: It seems my updates have been pushed to a minimum of two weeks and I apologize for that, but my work and life has been hectic, and shows no sign of slackening. Never worry that I won’t finish a fic because that is just something I would never do. The only thing that would keep me from finishing would be circumstances beyond my control and I would hope that my daughter would then finish the fic in my stead. Hopefully that will never be an issue. Thanks again, so very, very much for all of the wonderful feedback and reviews from all of you.

Chapter 11

The Fire Within

He dreamed of a barren wasteland under a cruel sun. Nothing grew here, and he saw only miles and miles of endless scorched earth rippling in the blazing heat. He stood on a low rock outcrop that was beside what looked to be a long abandoned roadway, and gazed at the expanse in despair. He was so very thirsty and, looking about, saw that there was nothing for it- no caves, no trees, nothing to shade him from the pounding heat. Sweat had long since stopped rolling down his face as his body used the last of its fluids trying to keep his heart pumping and blood flowing. A fierce ache filled his head until he was unable to turn his neck right or left and he knew he had the heat sickness that had claimed a few Shire dwellers on those rare blisteringly high days of summer.

"Frodo. Frodo you must come inside or the heat will make you ill again."

He turned and there before him, was Bag End, as it had always been, in the side of the immense hill. Gone was the tree that grew on the top of the smial. In its place a skeletal remnant remained. No flowers, green grass or vines filled the long abandoned garden that Sam had always so diligently maintained. In front of the faded green door stood Bilbo, dressed as a gentlehobbit minus the weskit. He was rumpled and sweaty, and was peering quizzically at his nephew. Frodo turned back to the barren scene and now saw that long deserted smials dotted the wasteland. The party tree stood in the former field, a blackened testament of a cruel twist of fate. The land was devoid of hobbits or any other living thing, either having perished in the catastrophe that had raped his homeland, or moved on to 'greener pastures.' Only he and Bilbo seemed to be present, it seemed, in his once bucolic and verdant Shire.

"Where...where is everyone, Bilbo? His voice croaked.

Bilbo studied him, confused. "Gone, Frodo, surely you remember, lad," he said.

"But Sam..the gaffer and Rosie. I don't understand. Bilbo what's happened to the Shire?" Frodo asked, bewildered.

"Taken away. Enslaved or killed by Sauron," the old hobbit said sadly. Frodo looked at him in dismay. "They are all gone save us. Somehow we survived, although for what purpose only Eru knows," Bilbo added, somberly. Frodo stared at his uncle, his mouth agape. "Come inside, Frodo," he said sadly.

Frodo walked haltingly towards the smial as tears coursed slowly down his face. "Gone? All gone?" He whispered. As he entered Bag End he was further dismayed to see how sparsely it was furnished. Gone were the elegant trappings, the home a mere shell of its former beauty. He approached the low sofa and sank onto it, a stunned expression on his pale face. Bilbo brought him a cup of water and sat down beside him, a concerned frown between his brows.

"Frodo, are you quite alright? You're so pale. Perhaps too much sun. I'll bring us our tea while you just relax and try not to dwell too much on things that occurred so very long ago." He rose and started to leave the room when Frodo stopped him.

"How...how long ago, Uncle?" He looked up at his guardian, a haunted look in his eyes.

Bilbo studied him for a moment and hesitated, thinking on the question. "Well, let's see, about four years now. Is that all it has been? It seems far longer," he said as he turned slowly and left the room. He returned shortly with tea and a small plate of crumbled cheese and two stale biscuits. "I am sorry, lad, for the meager meal. Supplies are so short, you know. I suppose one of us will have to venture out again in search of food." He said this as if it were a daily occurrence, and Frodo realized, with a start, that it probably was. The room was oppressively hot and he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He sipped slowly at the tea, which had a strange, bitter taste to it, and tried to wrap his brain around the horrible truth. He studied Bilbo, seeing for the first time, how terribly gaunt he was. His uncle gazed at Frodo in concern. "My but you are so very red, my boy," he said in alarm.

"Bilbo, why is it so very hot?" Frodo asked, loosening his cuffs and collar button. His uncle turned towards him, watching as sweat ran down his nephew's face and into his collar. "Uncle, I am so hot!" Frodo cried. A jolt of pain lanced up his arm and he looked down to see what could be causing it. He watched as the limb burst into flame, searing the creamy flesh first to red then to a blackened mass of blisters and blood. He screamed in agony as the rest of his body ignited, writhing on the floor at his uncle's feet. Bilbo stood watching, helpless, his mouth agape and tears standing in his eyes. Shrill screams tore from his throat, "Bilbo! Bilbo, help me," he cried, knowing there was no savior for him now. "All is lost. They are all gone," he wept as he fell finally accepting his fate.

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

"Aragorn, help me!" Blossom cried. Strider, disregarding the use of his birth name, moved in quick order into the room to help restrain the twisting hobbit. He started when he grasped the flailing arm, alarmed at both the heat that radiated from the small one, for that was how he thought of this new endearing friend, and the total lack of flesh on the emaciated frame.

"We *must* somehow break this fever," Blossom said anxiously. "His delirium is worsening as it continues to climb. Bell, would you please soak some sheets in cool water for me?" the healer called out. Bell had run into the room from the kitchen and watched as Frodo twisted and called for his uncle with amazing strength for one so ill. Sam sat at Frodo's head calling softly to his master and friend, whispering reassurances to the writhing Master of Bag End.

"Samwise, help me," she shouted. Sam rose, looked sadly at his master, hesitant to leave his side. He hurriedly filled the small tub with lukewarm water as Bell retrieved a sheet from the closet. After soaking it they quickly wrung it and took it to the bedside. Blossom and Strider unceremoniously stripped Frodo and lay the cool sheet over the burning body. Frodo's movements stilled somewhat as he reveled in the sudden reprieve from the heat. His head still twisted restlessly upon the pillow. He called pitifully for Bilbo as he sobbed.

"All is lost. They are all gone," he said in resignation, then his movements stilled. Blossom quickly reached for his neck and felt for a pulse, alarmed by this sudden acquiescence.

"His pulse is very weak, Estel. Let us move him to the bath and try to cool him more quickly," she said frantically.

Strider could see how Blossom's caring for her dear friend had taken its toll on the hobbitess. Elrond had ingrained in all healers under his tutelage, how dangerous it was to become too close to a patient. He had always sent those who were personally attached to the ill, from their bedside, deeming them incapable of the aloofness and rational thinking needed to make decisions quickly and objectively. As Strider assisted Blossom he wondered if he should intercede and attempt to send Blossom from Frodo's room. A grim smirk touched his lips. Somehow he knew he would certainly lose that fight and pushed the thought from his brain before it had a chance to take hold. He scooped up the frail body and bore him to the small tub. The water came to the hobbit's neck and he gladly supported him with one of his immersed arms. He and Blossom lovingly began to wash Frodo's hair and face, and the hobbit sighed as the water cooled his feverish body. Blossom rose and helped Bell to change the sweaty sheets as Strider continued to pour cool water over Frodo's body. He spoke softly to the hobbit and was soon joined by Sam. Frodo continued to whisper to himself, too low for his caregivers to make out the words, his struggles stilling as fatigue finally won out.

"We're here for you, Mr. Frodo. Your Sam is right here and he aint goin' nowhere. You're safe as can be," Sam softly crooned as he scooped cool water over his master's head.

Strider smiled as he observed the obvious love and loyalty of the gardener. Frodo was now relaxed and slept fitfully, his head resting limply on the ranger's forearm. They left him like this for most of an hour; loathe to disturb him as it was the calmest he had been for many hours. Eventually they had to transfer him from the bath to the bed, drying him and then draping him with soft towels. Blossom was busy preparing Frodo's hourly medications as the hobbit's eyes fluttered weakly open.

"How do you feel, Frodo?" Strider asked softly.

"Tired. Thirsty," Frodo murmured. Strider lifted his neck enough to bring a cup to his mouth, the cool water like ambrosia to his parched throat. Strider had to withdraw the cup numerous times to keep Frodo from gulping, causing the hobbit to whimper plaintively. But he was unable to withhold the beverage for long when Frodo begged so pitifully. He realized, suddenly, how attached he had become to the hobbit and how he could refuse him nothing. Bell entered carrying the usual cup of broth.

"Hello there, my lad," Blossom whispered, entering Frodo's range of vision. "Time for some tea and broth, dear," she said, softly.

"No...can’t," Frodo said weakly as his stomach rolled at the mere mention of food.

"Nonsense. We have had this discussion every time and I simply won't abide it further, love. You wouldn't want to hurt Bell's feelings, would you?" Blossom said, with a small smile.

Sam moved to Frodo's side. "I'd like to feed 'em, Missus, if that'd be alright," Sam said. Frodo stared long and hard at Sam, trying to grasp at a snatch of a memory, feeling an urgency and certainty that it was important, and that it concerned Sam. Strider slowly pulled Frodo up against his chest as the hobbit continued to study Sam.

"Here you go, Mr. Frodo. This'll make you feel a might better. We got to get some 'o your weight back on ya. Not proper for a hobbit to be without his girth as me gaffer is always a sayin." He nattered on tenderly as he gently spooned the soup into Frodo's mouth. He was happy to see his mum had added some softened vegetables and pieces of meat to the broth. Frodo chewed and swallowed automatically, a small frown between his brows, as his gaze remained fixed on Sam. The tea and soup finished, Sam washed his master's face and brought another cup of cool water to Frodo's lips. The water tasted delicious and Frodo drank thirstily although slower than before. Frodo watched Sam closely until the water was gone.

Sam smiled broadly at his master. "Meanin' no disrespect sir, but you've been starin' at me all through your meal. Lookin' at me as if I was a ghost, you have," he chuckled.

Frodo's eyes flew open at the comment, suddenly remembering the horribly vivid dream. "Sam! I thought I'd lost you!" he gasped. Sam frowned. "Bilbo said you'd been taken. Everyone was gone and the Shire was in ruins and Bilbo said you were dead," he exclaimed, becoming highly agitated. Strider looked on the hobbit in concern. Gandalf entered the room at that moment and stood watching the excited hobbit, bent over with his staff supporting him.

"Frodo it was only a nightmare. We are all fine it would seem, including yourself, my dear, dear boy," the wizard said with a smile. Frodo's eyes darted to Gandalf and then quickly back to Sam's face, memorizing every detail.

"But...but it was so *real*. They took you to Sauron..."

"Sauron? What are you talking about, Frodo?" Gandalf said, his voice suddenly urgent. His whole demeanor changed from the kindly grandfather figure to the tense Istari, poised for battle at the mention of the dark lord's name. Frodo started at the sudden change and Sam swiveled around to look at the wizard in confusion.

"Speak, Frodo. Tell me of this dream," the wizard commanded.

Strider looked at Gandalf carefully. "It was only a dream, Gandalf. It means nothing," he said trying to soothe the hobbits. He gave Gandalf a withering look as if to say 'Later, not now. Not so soon after we came so close to losing him.' Gandalf visibly struggled to calm his voice and smiled disarmingly.

"I am sorry, my friend, you just took me by surprise, is all," he said trying to dispel the tenseness in the room.

Frodo relaxed slightly. "I understand, Gandalf. It was a most disturbing dream, much more vivid that usual and so frightening. Your reaction was no less than my own, I can assure you," he spoke slowly as exhaustion began to take its toll on him.

"Would you mind telling me of it? Leave out nothing, Frodo," Gandalf asked slowly.

"Well, I found myself in this desert wasteland. There was nothing but rock and sand, the land completely denuded. Bilbo called for me to come in out of the sun and when I turned I saw he stood in the doorway of Bag End. The tree on top of the smial and the party tree were dead, only their withered trunks evidence of them ever being there. I asked Bilbo where everyone was and he said," Frodo tried to reach out to Sam as sudden tears filled his eyes. Sam met him halfway, taking the sprained hand gently and rubbing slow circles over the top. Strider rubbed his back soothingly, trying to calm his friend and offer reassurance. "He said ...he said," Frodo gulped convulsively. "He said that they had all been taken," he looked tearily at Sam, "that they'd been enslaved or killed," he whispered. "It *was* just a dream, wasn't it, Gandalf?" Frodo asked tersely.

Gandalf had been lost in his own thoughts after hearing Frodo's rendition of the dark dream. Strider scowled at the wizard over Frodo's head. Gandalf, coming back to himself and noticing the ranger's expression, smiled wanly at Frodo. "Of course, Frodo, only a dream, my boy. Think of it no more and be at peace. You are safe, as is the Shire," he reassured softly. He rose slowly, his body bent in weariness and his face showing that, once again, he was lost within his own thoughts. Sam followed the wizard out into the hallway.

Frodo sighed and closed his eyes as Strider laid Frodo back against his pillows.

Blossom came into the room and placed her hand on Frodo's forehead. The hobbit moved languidly, a frown forming on his brow. Blossom frowned. He was still very warm, only feeling slightly cooler than before. "He seems more lucid and he did eat well." She looked up at Strider. "I think his fever is breaking, Estel. Yet it is still too early to tell for sure," she murmured.

Strider eyed the hobbitess. "How long since you have rested, milady?" he asked, pulling his pipe from his pocket and loading it with leaf.

"I am perfectly fine, Dunedain. I will rest when Frodo is stable," she said wearily.

"Frodo is stable, Blossom. Go and rest. I will call you if needed," Strider said firmly. He lit his pipe; closing his eyes as he inhaled and tipping his chair back against the wall.

"It is you, Dunedain, who needs rest. You have been caring for Frodo many days longer than I," she said in concern.

"*Both* of you needs rest. If you didn't have chairs you'd both be a fallin' over, I dare say," Bell chimed in from the doorway. She stood, fists on her hips, a comical frown on her face, staring at the two healers. "I've already sent Mr. Gandalf and Sam off for naps. There's a bath waitin' for ya, Mistress, and I've turned down your very long bed, Mr. Strider. All we need now are bodies to put in both," she chidded. Blossom smiled at the hobbitess.

"I believe we have been outmatched, Dunedain," she said with a grin. "Very well, Bell, a bath does sound heavenly. If I'd only thought to bring a change of clothing," she mused.

"I've taken care 'o that, Missus. I brought one 'o me housedresses back from home for you to change into. It might be a bit large on you, but it's clean," she replied.

"You Gamgees are prepared for everything, aren't you? No wonder Frodo finds you all so indispensable," Blossom jested.

"Yes 'em, that we are," Bell replied as she shoved the healer into the bathing room. Soon Blossom was stripped of the filthy shirt and pants and lay up to her chin, and delightfully relaxed, in hot water foaming with lavender scented bubbles. Next, Strider was browbeaten to his own room, objecting all the way. He lay down as Bell watched, her arms crossed, and stretched out. Only then did she leave, closing the door behind her. He fell asleep almost instantly. Bell returned to Frodo's room and seeing that their patient slept soundly and that his fever was much reduced, took up her knitting, sinking into one of Mr. Bilbo's overstuffed chairs. Her head began to nod, the silent home lulling her to sleep. She jerked herself awake for the third time in as many minutes. "This'll never do," she muttered to herself as she rose. "Perhaps a chore that doesn't require sitting," she said. "Ah...the linens. I need to get 'em washed up right quick, and hung out ta dry." She turned and looked at Frodo, once again. "Well, I won't be but a few minutes. I'm sure naught will happen if I work quickly." She felt Frodo's forehead once again, smiled at the results, grabbed the laundry basket and made for the washtub on the back porch.

Some time later Frodo slowly opened his eyes and looking about the room and saw that he was alone. He gulped, recalling the nightmare once again. Perhaps talking with Sam and Gandalf had been the true dream, he thought to himself. Sudden panic seized his heart. If only I could see outside, he thought as he looked towards the window and watched as the curtains fluttered in the morning breeze. He tried to raise himself up but a sharp pain in his sprained wrist changed his mind. He looked down at his legs and, seeing the broken one, began to think perhaps this was not one of his better ideas. Still, how would he know for sure that all was as it should be unless he could see the Shire for himself? He set his jaw in a firm and determined line as he tried, once again, to push himself upright using his good foot and arching his back, inching towards the headboard. He was so weak that he had to stop several times to catch his breath and to quell the vertigo that repeatedly overwhelmed him. The window was close to the bed but, try as he might, he could not see outside because the curtains continued to billow into the room, effectively blocking his view. Frodo shakily reached out and caught hold of one of the tiers, pulling himself towards the window. His vision dimmed and small sparks of light dotted against black as he began to lose consciousness. He slapped his face, causing fresh pain to soar through his wrist. He panted harshly from his efforts but his struggle paid off as he, at last, pulled himself upright. His wrist screamed in agony, but the thought of seeing the valley below the smial had become an obsession to Frodo by now. Had he been thinking clearly he would have waited for someone to simply carry him to a window or even outside, but Frodo's mind was still locked in the delirium brought on by his injuries and fever, and he was *not* thinking clearly.

He lay back against the headboard trying to stop his body from shaking and his vision from fading in and out. The room swam out of focus until, finally, he had to close his eyes to avoid becoming ill. He began to lower his legs over the side of the bed thinking he could hop to the window on his one good leg. As the blood rushed to his feet his broken leg pulsed with the rhythm of his heartbeat as pins and needles ran through the other. He gasped in surprise at the pain. The broken leg continued to throb but, thankfully, the other began to feel a bit better. He reached out for the drape and pulled himself over the edge of the bed, touching his good foot down onto the floor. Had he not been hanging on so tightly to the drape he would have surely fallen as it tried to collapse beneath him. The wrist screamed in pain, holding his full weight, as he clutched at the curtain. He cried out as the leg finally found purchase and he stood, wobbly, leaning against the bureau under the window. At last he gazed outside. The land was a verdant green and Frodo could just make out small hobbit lads and lasses as they rolled down the hillside then ran back to the top of the hill to do it all again. A relieved smile lit his lips.

A gasp from the doorway caused Frodo to turn suddenly. The vertigo won over, this time, and Frodo's face paled as the room spun uncontrollably, blackness filled his vision and he fell backwards. Sturdy arms caught him before he could hit the floor and re-injure himself. He felt himself being lifted and then laid within the softness of his bed. All the while the figure tutted and berated him but Frodo only heard a strange rushing in his ears. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked up into the worried hazel eyes of Bell Gamgee. Frodo realized suddenly, that he had never noticed until that moment, how much Sam looked like his mother.

"Are you daft? What were you tryin' to do, Mr. Frodo? You coulda' been serious hurt...sir!" Bell scolded, forgetting her place in her alarm. "You, just barely survivin' *just* *this* *day* all that's happened and here you are usin' all your energy to get outta bed. If'n you was one 'o mine why I'd be cuttin' me a switch, I would," she yelled. Frodo looked up at her and saw tears were standing in her eyes and that her face was very pale. Her hands shook as she checked him over and brought the covers back up to his chin. He realized just how badly he had frightened her and reached out to grasp her hands.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Gamgee, for scaring you," Frodo whispered.

"And what *exactly* are you sorry about, Frodo?" Blossom stood in the doorway looking clean and refreshed. "Bell, what has he been up to? I can see for myself how very pale he is, even more than usual for Frodo Baggins." She frowned. "What did he do?" she said enunciating each word clearly.

"'Tis my own fault, Mistress. I left 'em alone but for a minute, to get the sheets a soakin' and he was standin' at the window when I come back," Bell said shamefacedly.

"Bell, this is most defiantly *not* your fault. This is hardly the first time that Frodo has gone against orders, be they from doctors, healers or relatives, to do whatever it is he feels he must do. Didn't he tell you of the time he was quarantined in his room here at Bag End with influenza and, seeing everyone else outside playing in the snow, snuck out the window to join in the fray? No? What about the time he broke his leg falling from a tree while stealing apples and, after the doctor told him he *had* to stay in bed with his foot elevated, he *crawled* to the kitchen, climbed up on the cabinet and ate a whole pie? No, my dear, this is not your fault, and I won't have you covering for him, sick or no," Blossom said exasperated.

Frodo had pinked at the accounting of the first story and continued to redden as Blossom started into the second. He looked up suddenly at the healer. "Please don't be angry with me. I would never have let Bell take the blame, Blossom," he said.

"Oh Frodo, I know that, but how could you have been so very stupid, my boy? You've made huge progress today, and the thought that you could have lost it all just to look out the window?" Blossom said with concern. Frodo lay limp against the pillows, his eyes beginning to close of their own accord. I am so very tired suddenly, he thought. The healer crossed quickly to him, feeling at his neck for his pulse. It was very rapid and she could see the beads of sweat upon his forehead and upper lip. She frowned, worried. "Frodo, why...why would you use up the last of your strength to do this?" she asked in alarm.

"I had to make sure it was still there, you see," he mumbled.

"What was still there, Frodo?" Blossom said, her voice softening. She had never been able to stay angry with Frodo; indeed, she had been unable to deny him anything as long as she had known him. She looked at him now as he tried to explain why this had been so important to him; so important that he had significantly risked his health to do it, and had possibly delayed his recovery by several more days. She sat down, as did Bell, beside him.

"It was all gone in the dream." His eyes fluttered slowly open, they had a haunted look in them as he struggled to explain. “The Shire wasn't green, nothing grew, all the hobbits...everything had been destroyed," he looked up beseechingly into Blossom's eyes. "I had to see for myself that it wasn't so, that it really had been just a bad dream," he said huskily. Bell wiped at her eyes and rose.

"I bess be gettin' his feedin' and teas, Miss," she said as she left the room hurriedly.

"My dear boy, what am I to do with you?" Blossom asked as she bent down, placing her forehead against Frodo's. Frodo's eyes had closed again, a happy smile touching his lips.

"Green, Blossom. It's still green and beautiful," he murmured sleepily.

"Yes, love, green. And it always shall be," she said softly as a slow tear flowed down her cheek.

To be continued...

Now special thanks to all of you who reviewed...

Heartofahobbit - Wow! Your review left me absolutely speechless (not an easy thing to do, btw). I can't thank you enough for all of your wonderful praise and encouragement for my tales. I am especially pleased that you think the characters seem 'real' in how they talk and move. I picture them in my head (constantly) and think of them as real people then just let their actions and words come forth as I would see them in a room talking with each other. Sounds a bit crazy but seems to make the stories work. Thanks again for such a glowing review and I hope to see some more of your stuff out there as well. I have you on my author's alert list so I won't miss a thing.

Tulip Proudfoot - Hello again oh talented glass artist (you should see this lady's work...it's awesome!) I'm glad you are enjoying the fic and thanks again for reviewing.

FrodoBaggins87 - I know what you mean, writing this chapter made me weary too. Although I knew it was working when I proofread it and couldn't put it down. I wouldn't worry too much about what doc's do when you're under anesthesia...I mean they make jokes sometimes and are silly, but nothing too serious (I work in a hospital). LOL.

Shire Baggins - I absolutely had to repost this story after the wonderful Althea brought the little boo- boo to my attention. I knew something didn't feel right about it but couldn't put my finger on it as I was hurrying to post before my relatives arrived. After she mentioned the meal post surgery thing I just couldn't get to my computer fast enough to fix such a horrible error. Blossom is quickly becoming my favorite character to write. I actually modeled her loosely, after myself in that she says exactly what's on her mind and she' s kinda a no nonsense, but loving, kind of gal. Glad you like her so much. Frodo's TLC is coming up, never fear.

Becca - Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Kellie - I hope to post a chapter of Phantasm in three or four days, but I'm under a deadline for my artwork and it will have to come first. It would be so great to never get tired and be able to do all of the stuff you wanted to, wouldn't it? Unfortunately I poop out pretty quick...I've got it all written in my head, just need to sit down and write it out.

CuriousCat - Love your moniker, btw. So glad you read the repost...it was MUCH better than the first draft. Lotsa TLC coming up for Frodo.

endymion2 - Hi there! She is a tad too much like a lot of American's who are always 'hon', 'sweetie', and 'dear' ing there way through life, without ever meaning it. I do it too, but generally I only say "hon’" when I'm really pissed. Blossom is a thinking person's hobbit. She has a mind and isn't afraid to use it. She's also not afraid to say what she thinks, which has made her a bit of an outcast in good old Hobbiton, although she doesn't really care about that either. She is what we become when we get older and past all of the peer pressure and 'oh what will people think' syndromes. I have been this way for years and find it very freeing. I do what I need to do, I am pleasant with people, although I do not really like people...(I feel I can trust my dog more than a human and enjoy his company more as well, lol), so my feelings naturally spill over into this character. I respect her and the way she has chosen to live, quite happily, doing things the way she wants to do them. Hey, a stupid question...what does IMHO stand for? Whatever it is thanks, I think...I've attached the link to where I found most of my elvish phrases. I have had one person who didn't trust them, but I do. My reasoning is this...why would you go to all the work to do the translations (and there are links to classes etc on the site) and post it to the web if you didn't know what you were doing? I believe the language is Sindarin. Enjoy (http://www.grey-company.org/Circle/language/phrase.htm#list)

Althea - My dear, I cannot thank you enough for your pointing out an error in my text of chapter 10 that I really should have caught myself. I was hurrying to post as I had relatives coming and didn't proof it like I should have. I kept thinking that something wasn't quite right but posted anyway. After I read your comment I couldn't change it fast enough since Frodo is my favorite and I couldn't bear thinking of him in that situation. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Lindahoyland - I have treated patients that were very close friends of mine and who had serious illnesses. It is possibly the most heart-wrenching thing you can be put through, trust me. I’m really happy you're enjoying the story and that you've been such a great reviewer on all of my fics. thanks again.

BraellyraLeatherleaf - Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.

Girlofring1 - Thanks, I love your work as well and have you on my author alert list.





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