Title: And the Angels Were Silent (1/?)
Author: Liz Huisman
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own these lovely characters. Dammit.
Summary:
A/N: Me and my dark mood today.hmph. I had to write this. I couldn't get it out of my head (I have no idea why) and since my mood was nice and dark, I thought it'd be easier to write it now. So anyway, I'm shamelessly changing post-quest events. This is taking place a year after it's over, starting on October 6. Sam's gone on one of his trips around the Shire planting his trees, and tending them, and whatever. The title is taken from some Max Lucado book sitting on my mom's bookshelf. This is my first LotR angst stuff. And yes, when this EF is done, I'll go and make someone gay. Okay?
(1)
Frodo Baggins put on his normal after-breakfast tea, taking after the customs of his elder cousin, Bilbo Baggins.
He sat quietly in his soft armchair and waited for the familiar whistling of the kettle. His mind started wandering back to Bilbo, and Rivendell. How he missed Bilbo! He could picture quite clearly in his mind, from days long ago, of Bilbo sitting in this very chair, having his after-breakfast tea, and reminiscing with Frodo, telling him all sorts of stories. That, of course, was well before Bilbo's Farewell Party, and before the quest.
Frodo got to thinking of the last time he saw Bilbo. Bilbo looked old, and frail, something Frodo had never remembered thinking about him before.
It had just been Bilbo's 130th birthday, tying him with the Old Took in age. Frodo hadn't gone to see him in Rivendell, and regretted it. He had stayed at Bag End, and celebrated with Sam, Merry, and Pippin, for it was his birthday as well.
He finally heard the whistling of the kettle. As soon as he stood up, though, a funny feeling came over him. His shoulder was hurting him again, and he was feeling quite light-headed. He started toward the kitchen, thinking that a cup of tea would help him, but he never reached the kitchen.
Frodo had passed out on his way.
Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took stood patiently outside Bag End, waiting for Frodo to open up his door and let them in.
"I wonder what could be keeping Frodo," wondered Merry, voicing the thoughts of both he and Pippin. "He was expecting us, right?"
"Of course. Do you think he'd mind?" Pippin opened up the door to Frodo's hobbit-hole slowly.
Merry just sighed and followed Pippin inside. As he turned to shut the door, he saw what gave him a shock. "Frodo!"
Pippin turned and saw what Merry had seen. They ran over and knelt down beside him.
"Frodo?" asked Merry, hoping his cousin would respond in some way. There was nothing.
"What's wrong with him?" Pippin asked, even though he knew Merry didn't know the answer.
Merry thought a moment. "Pippin! It's October 6!"
Pippin looked at Merry curiously. "Yeah? So what? It's October si-" Pippin realized what Merry was trying to tell him.
"Was it this bad last year?"
"No, of course not! Remember? We were coming back from the south. He didn't want anyone to know, but I could tell something was wrong, and so could Sam. Sam was the one that figured out what was wrong with Frodo, but he didn't say anything to Frodo about it either."
"He's clutching his shoulder, Merry."
Merry looked down, and sure enough, Frodo was clutching tightly onto his shoulder. He pried Frodo's fingers loose, and cradled his head. "Pippin, we need to get him into bed."
Together, they carried Frodo to the nearest bedroom, that belonging to Bilbo. They gently placed him on Bilbo's large, fluffy bed, and pulled the covers over him.
"Do you think we need to find Sam?" Pippin asked.
"I think all that will do is force Sam to go crazy with worry. We'll just stay here with him, then."
Pippin nodded in agreement, and went to go make tea for he and Merry with the water that he noticed had been boiling, presumably being boiled for Frodo's after-breakfast tea.
Frodo cried out once more in his sleep. Merry held the cold cloth to Frodo's sweaty brow.
"I sincerely wish for this day to be over with," he said sadly to Pippin, who was on the other side of Frodo's bed. "I hate seeing him tortured like this," he finished, almost as an afterthought.
"It's nearly midnight. Go rest, Merry, and I'll stay by him for awhile," offered Pippin, placing his hand on the cold cloth.
"Thank you, Pippin. I'll be right across the hall, in the guestroom."
"Fine."
Merry stood up, and started walking away, almost reluctantly. He stood at the doorway and watched his poor cousin tossing slightly in his sleep, if one could call it just a normal sleep.
"Merry, it'll be okay. Just get some sleep!" Pippin said, noticing Merry's hesitation. Without a response for Pippin, Merry stepped out and over into the guestroom, though not expecting to get much sleep that night.
A strangled cry awoke Merry from his light sleep. He raced into the other room.
"Pippin?"
Pippin was cradling Frodo, trying to stop the older hobbit from shaking so badly.
"I-I don't know what's wrong!" Pippin said shakily. "He's almost gotten worse! He's shaky, and so cold! But yet he sweats. It's not natural."
Merry went over and knelt down beside the bed. He brushed the hair out of Frodo's face. There was a pained expression on his sweaty face.
"Pippin," he started nervously, as he took a glance out the window. "it's dawn."
Pippin looked out the window as well. The area was gently glowing by the light of the first few rays of sunshine coming from the east.
"Merry, something's seriously wrong. He should be better!"
Merry cast his eyes back down on Frodo. He was shaking horribly, and sweating. He thought for a moment.
"Pippin, we need to get him to Rivendell," he concluded, taking Frodo's hand in his own and stroking it gently with his thumb. "Elrond will know what to do with his wound. It was he who healed Frodo the first time."
Pippin nodded in silent agreement. Then he remembered something. "Sam! What about Sam?"
"I know. You need to go find Sam, and bring him straight to Rivendell. I'll take Frodo, as fast as my fastest pony will allow."
They began to gather up Frodo. Pippin hurried and brought the ponies to the door of Bag End. Merry was waiting at the door, and together they lifted Frodo onto one. Merry got on behind Frodo.
"Until I see you in Rivendell, Pippin, for good or bad," he said, nodding his head, and then turning the pony and speeding down past the other hobbit- holes of Bagshot Row, and out of Pippin's sight.
Pippin remained a moment, shutting and locking the door of Frodo's home. Although still not customary in the Shire to lock one's doors, Frodo had always locked his, ever since he had returned from their journey, and Pippin wasn't planning on leaving it unlocked for an undetermined amount of time.
He quickly jumped onto Merry's other pony, and hurried off, to begin the nearly impossible task of finding Sam Gamgee somewhere in the Shire.
TBC
Author: Liz Huisman
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own these lovely characters. Dammit.
Summary:
A/N: Me and my dark mood today.hmph. I had to write this. I couldn't get it out of my head (I have no idea why) and since my mood was nice and dark, I thought it'd be easier to write it now. So anyway, I'm shamelessly changing post-quest events. This is taking place a year after it's over, starting on October 6. Sam's gone on one of his trips around the Shire planting his trees, and tending them, and whatever. The title is taken from some Max Lucado book sitting on my mom's bookshelf. This is my first LotR angst stuff. And yes, when this EF is done, I'll go and make someone gay. Okay?
(1)
Frodo Baggins put on his normal after-breakfast tea, taking after the customs of his elder cousin, Bilbo Baggins.
He sat quietly in his soft armchair and waited for the familiar whistling of the kettle. His mind started wandering back to Bilbo, and Rivendell. How he missed Bilbo! He could picture quite clearly in his mind, from days long ago, of Bilbo sitting in this very chair, having his after-breakfast tea, and reminiscing with Frodo, telling him all sorts of stories. That, of course, was well before Bilbo's Farewell Party, and before the quest.
Frodo got to thinking of the last time he saw Bilbo. Bilbo looked old, and frail, something Frodo had never remembered thinking about him before.
It had just been Bilbo's 130th birthday, tying him with the Old Took in age. Frodo hadn't gone to see him in Rivendell, and regretted it. He had stayed at Bag End, and celebrated with Sam, Merry, and Pippin, for it was his birthday as well.
He finally heard the whistling of the kettle. As soon as he stood up, though, a funny feeling came over him. His shoulder was hurting him again, and he was feeling quite light-headed. He started toward the kitchen, thinking that a cup of tea would help him, but he never reached the kitchen.
Frodo had passed out on his way.
Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took stood patiently outside Bag End, waiting for Frodo to open up his door and let them in.
"I wonder what could be keeping Frodo," wondered Merry, voicing the thoughts of both he and Pippin. "He was expecting us, right?"
"Of course. Do you think he'd mind?" Pippin opened up the door to Frodo's hobbit-hole slowly.
Merry just sighed and followed Pippin inside. As he turned to shut the door, he saw what gave him a shock. "Frodo!"
Pippin turned and saw what Merry had seen. They ran over and knelt down beside him.
"Frodo?" asked Merry, hoping his cousin would respond in some way. There was nothing.
"What's wrong with him?" Pippin asked, even though he knew Merry didn't know the answer.
Merry thought a moment. "Pippin! It's October 6!"
Pippin looked at Merry curiously. "Yeah? So what? It's October si-" Pippin realized what Merry was trying to tell him.
"Was it this bad last year?"
"No, of course not! Remember? We were coming back from the south. He didn't want anyone to know, but I could tell something was wrong, and so could Sam. Sam was the one that figured out what was wrong with Frodo, but he didn't say anything to Frodo about it either."
"He's clutching his shoulder, Merry."
Merry looked down, and sure enough, Frodo was clutching tightly onto his shoulder. He pried Frodo's fingers loose, and cradled his head. "Pippin, we need to get him into bed."
Together, they carried Frodo to the nearest bedroom, that belonging to Bilbo. They gently placed him on Bilbo's large, fluffy bed, and pulled the covers over him.
"Do you think we need to find Sam?" Pippin asked.
"I think all that will do is force Sam to go crazy with worry. We'll just stay here with him, then."
Pippin nodded in agreement, and went to go make tea for he and Merry with the water that he noticed had been boiling, presumably being boiled for Frodo's after-breakfast tea.
Frodo cried out once more in his sleep. Merry held the cold cloth to Frodo's sweaty brow.
"I sincerely wish for this day to be over with," he said sadly to Pippin, who was on the other side of Frodo's bed. "I hate seeing him tortured like this," he finished, almost as an afterthought.
"It's nearly midnight. Go rest, Merry, and I'll stay by him for awhile," offered Pippin, placing his hand on the cold cloth.
"Thank you, Pippin. I'll be right across the hall, in the guestroom."
"Fine."
Merry stood up, and started walking away, almost reluctantly. He stood at the doorway and watched his poor cousin tossing slightly in his sleep, if one could call it just a normal sleep.
"Merry, it'll be okay. Just get some sleep!" Pippin said, noticing Merry's hesitation. Without a response for Pippin, Merry stepped out and over into the guestroom, though not expecting to get much sleep that night.
A strangled cry awoke Merry from his light sleep. He raced into the other room.
"Pippin?"
Pippin was cradling Frodo, trying to stop the older hobbit from shaking so badly.
"I-I don't know what's wrong!" Pippin said shakily. "He's almost gotten worse! He's shaky, and so cold! But yet he sweats. It's not natural."
Merry went over and knelt down beside the bed. He brushed the hair out of Frodo's face. There was a pained expression on his sweaty face.
"Pippin," he started nervously, as he took a glance out the window. "it's dawn."
Pippin looked out the window as well. The area was gently glowing by the light of the first few rays of sunshine coming from the east.
"Merry, something's seriously wrong. He should be better!"
Merry cast his eyes back down on Frodo. He was shaking horribly, and sweating. He thought for a moment.
"Pippin, we need to get him to Rivendell," he concluded, taking Frodo's hand in his own and stroking it gently with his thumb. "Elrond will know what to do with his wound. It was he who healed Frodo the first time."
Pippin nodded in silent agreement. Then he remembered something. "Sam! What about Sam?"
"I know. You need to go find Sam, and bring him straight to Rivendell. I'll take Frodo, as fast as my fastest pony will allow."
They began to gather up Frodo. Pippin hurried and brought the ponies to the door of Bag End. Merry was waiting at the door, and together they lifted Frodo onto one. Merry got on behind Frodo.
"Until I see you in Rivendell, Pippin, for good or bad," he said, nodding his head, and then turning the pony and speeding down past the other hobbit- holes of Bagshot Row, and out of Pippin's sight.
Pippin remained a moment, shutting and locking the door of Frodo's home. Although still not customary in the Shire to lock one's doors, Frodo had always locked his, ever since he had returned from their journey, and Pippin wasn't planning on leaving it unlocked for an undetermined amount of time.
He quickly jumped onto Merry's other pony, and hurried off, to begin the nearly impossible task of finding Sam Gamgee somewhere in the Shire.
TBC