Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Seeing Isn't Always Believing  by shirebound

Just a Dream

Written for the 2007 birthday of Febobe, who posted this ficlet request: "Frodo and the fever-stick."  (A fever-stick is the Middle-earth equivalent of... well, a rectal thermometer.  Written with love, and for a bit of AU fun.)




Frodo blinked awake, and smiled to see Sam sitting next to him.

“How are you feeling, sir?” Sam asked. He took his master’s left hand, relieved that it was once again fully warm. “Are you sleeping well enough?”

“I am, except for a strange, recurring dream,” Frodo yawned. “At least, I think it’s a dream; I can never quite remember all the details.”

“About those Black Riders?” Sam asked anxiously. He hoped his master didn’t remember too much of what he had endured for the past several weeks.

“No, not riders, or... or that awful dim coldness...” Frodo murmured. “Something worse. I dreamed that a dark-haired Elf was... that he wanted to...” He shook his head. “Never mind, Sam, I’m sure it wasn’t real. Shire healers don’t have any such... devices, and I can’t imagine that the Elves do, either.” He frowned, wriggling his bottom slightly.

“You need your rest,” Sam said hastily. “Try to sleep a bit more, and I’m sure you won’t have that... er, that dream again.” He drew the blankets up to Frodo's chin, then blew out the candle. If he had to barricade the door, he would. Lord Elrond might be in charge and all, but he wasn’t coming near his master again, if he could prevent it. At least, not with that thing in his hand.





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List