“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.