Goblins reached out at her from all sides. Faces leered at her as she struggled to stay conscious of the world, weapons pressed in against her and voices spat out. The heat and pressure building up was tremendous, the sweat pouring down her face, the cold, clammy hands grabbing hold of her and pulling her down into water, the dark reaching forward and claiming her…….

As Cath could feel an immense pressure releasing her, she could see before her eyes just darkness. Or was it? In front of her she could see shimmering gold, with marking, like writing in front. Cath bit her tongue as the pain increased, her head almost bursting as the pressure came back.

The gold steadily grew darker, but coming from the darker was a red flame. A face emerged from it, a face almost carved out of iron. It bared its teeth and roared…

…………Cath gasped out as two pale, lamp like eyes peered at her. A frog-like creature looked down at her, beckoning her to follow it. Behind it Cath could see trees…millions of them…

The scene changed dramatically. From what had been trees was a dark, dense enclosure. Nothing could be seen, but she could hear mutterings. Two things battled it out in the dark, arguing. Was it her imagination, or was one if them calling itself precious?

As it changed again she could feel heat burn like she was in a fire. Men were holding great mounds of wood, with great torches. There was a man lying on a wood pile. He looked like he had Grass Fever too. Another man, older, was standing on the pile. Arms stretched out, he almost looked like he wanted to be burnt on that pile, with the other man. But that was just ridiculous…..

A light apeared from the fire. But this was a dark light, if such a thing was possible. A sphere of darkness erupted from the fire, and while the rest of the scene faded the outline of this thing got clearer. Colours of red and orange came from it. Cath felt the odd sensation of being frozen and burnt at the same time.

From the sphere came a single voice, making Cath tremble all over. The voice screamed at her as Cath writhed, trying to block out the sound of the……cockerel?

Cath could hardly open her eyes, but she did, and sure enough, there was a cockerel standing on her windowsill. With an open window swinging behind it.

Cath gave a loud groan as she remembered the events. The pain in her head, the spinning , the dizziness…. But if that happened, why was she in her bed? There was only one possibility, someone had found her, and taken her back. When her dad came in she was dead meat.

The funny thing was, why was her head still hurting? She wasnÂ’t in the sun now, far from it. So why did it feel like her head was about to explode?

That was the last thing that entered Caths mind before she slipped back into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caths condition did not improve. Far from it. Sam, Frodo and Merry would take it in turns to wait impatiently out in the kitchen while the other two would sit with one of the girls. Each time the report was exactly the same. Cath was sleeping, unconscious or unable to make contact with any one of them. As she hovered between consciousness and oblivion Rosie or Bess would pour water down her throat, and if she was awake Cath would try to swallow. But the illness was obviously there. Cath would cry out in the night, and talk so vividly about her Mother that Sam was convinced she was getting ready to join with Bell Gamgee again. But, maybe by some magic in the air, Cath kept alive. But only just.

Pippin was not part of any of this. Merry had sent him home with Fatty Bolger and promises to send for him when Cath was better. Needless to Pippin did not go willingly.

“But Caths my friend just as much as you are!” He’d exclaimed when Merry had shoved him into the cart after Fatty, “Why can’t I stay?”

“Because you’ll only get in the way. Anyway, it’ll only scare you, and upset you.” Merry winked at Fatty, who didn’t look happy to be the one driving Pippin home, “Have a nice ride.”

Two weeks later, with no sign of improvement Merry was sitting at the Gamgee table. Maybe it was a bad idea to have sent Pippin away. At least there would be a cheerful face to reassure him. At least there would be a mischief maker to distract people when they all needed it. And at least there would be a person that Cath could see when she woke up.

Merry sighed and picked at the food in front of him. After staying up to watch over Cath from two o clock in the morning, Sam had insisted Merry eat something. However it was about as easy to do that as to make Pippin go home. In the end Sam threatened to tell Estella the conversation between Frodo and Merry if he didnÂ’t eat. Merry almost laughed at what Cath would say if she saw Merry refusing to eat.

Bringing the subject back to the thought of Cath made Merry sigh again. What if Cath died? How would he tell Pippin? What would Sam do? All the time heÂ’d known the gardener Merry would see Sam arguing with Cath, or telling her to shut up, or getting her out of /into trouble. What would happen if Sam couldnÂ’t do that anymore? TheyÂ’d be no one for him to protect anymore.

And what about the four girls? Cath had been the smart one that could wheedle the extra pie out from the cooks hands at Estella’s house and smart-talk the Cotton lads into getting boys to talk to her friends. She would be the one that could tease a girl to the point of insanity, or cheer up a depressed lass. And she brightened up the Gamgee household like a candle.

Merry thumped down his plate. It was no use; he couldnÂ’t eat. Cath couldnÂ’t die! His memory went back to holding the sick little baby in the Gamgees garden, feeling the tiny heart beat and her breath rattle, even making out each tiny, frail bone in her body. Cath had made it then. There was one thing that had saved her. But Gandalf wasnÂ’t here now.

The door to Caths room opened and Estella slipped through. A look from her told Merry everything he needed to know.

“She’s not conscious is she?”

“Not really. But….but….”

Merry got up and pulled Estella down into a chair, holding one of her hands in his. Merry, although deeply scared for Cath, still couldnÂ’t help noticing his hand wrapping round Estella’s small white ones, enveloping them like a glove. A tremble went up his spine.

“SheÂ’s speaking about her mother so vividly Merry. Crying out for her just like…like her motherÂ’s right there next to her. And….I donÂ’t suppose youÂ’ve heard of her twin sister?”

“What?”

“She had one. But it died two minutes after it was born. Frodo and Sam heard about it when you’d sneaked out with Cath, but they didn’t tell you. They thought it might scare you.

Anyway she was going to be called Annie, Cath was told that when she was ten. But the point was, about an hour ago Cath sat right up, like she had just had a nightmare. And she was screaming AnnieÂ’s name at the top of her voice. And I donÂ’t know why but, it felt like Cath has some kind of…connection between herself and Annie, even though Annie’s dead. It was kind of spooky.”

Merry shuddered. The last thing he needed was the idea that a ghost was going round three, Bagshot Row, looking exactly like Cath. His hand subconsciously tightened round Estella’s. “You donÂ’t think….anything may happen? I donÂ’t know…itÂ’s just….odd, isnÂ’t it?”

“I donÂ’t really know. But…oh Merry!” Merry slipped an arm round Estella’s shoulders, “What if she dies? I just couldnÂ’t bare it, I just couldnÂ’t! And she just lies there and doesnÂ’t recognise any of us. She calls out for people, her mother, Annie, and lots of people that I canÂ’t even begin to understand the names of. Elvish names you know, and something once about a king. She mentioned you once you know.”

“Eh?”

“Yes. I heard her say, something like ‘Merry get away from the Witch King.’. And she’s mentioned Cahadras before, whatever that is. She said, quite cleary, ‘I don’t care what that old grump says, it’s cold on Cahadras. Maybe he can’t feel the cold, but I can, and I reckon even Moria is a better option.’ ”

“That makes no sense whatever.”

“I know. But…oh itÂ’s so awful even thinking about it. I just canÂ’t do this any more.”

“DonÂ’t think about it then.” Merry told her, brushing a piece of Estella’s long black hair from her face. Suddenly Merry felt himself change from a nervous, panicking-for-Cath lad. Change from being a mischievous food-nabbing boy. Suddenly all Merry wanted to do was take this girl in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, regardless of any bet he had going with his cousin.

Estella looked at him, “You don’t understand Merry. It’s hurts so bad.”

Merry looked at her eyes. They were deep brown colour, and, he thought, warm, the sort of eyes you could get lost in… “YouÂ’re so beautiful.” He murmured.

Estella started, “Merry. concentrate! Just…I canÂ’t believe….CathÂ’s is in there dying Merry!”

“I know…DonÂ’t think IÂ’m not scared Estella. But…if I donÂ’t think about it, I feel better. And I know you think that as well.”

“Well…I guess so..”

“And you’re the only thing that’s getting me through this.”

Estella shook her head, “It’s my shift.” she told him sadly, and walked back into Caths room. Frodo came out after her.

“Bet of then Merry?” He asked, with a trace of a grin.

“No way!” Merry told him, “But I might need the time limit extended slightly.”

Estella could feel her blood boil. That Brandybuck was only pretending to like her! The horrid little……

She turned her head and yelled out, “I HEARD THAT!” and slammed the door again. If he dared speak to her again she’d give him a piece of her mind.

“Oh damn it.” muttered Merry as he heard Estella yell at him. Something told him making bets about kissing girls was a heck of a bad idea.

Bess sat on the steps of her home crying softly. Four days ago Lilly had been sent to say that people who werenÂ’t family or Rosie Cotton were to be kept away from Cath, the fever had taken a turn for the worse. Now she was stuck at home, with no Cath to play with, no Rosie to comfort her, and no idea what to do. It was a dismal afternoon.

‘And knowing fairness,’ She thought bitterly, ‘Cath will die and we will be left alone. Rosie says she may be spared, but I know she won’t, for the good and dear people always die.’ And the thought frightened Bess so much that she just lay on the stairs and wept till her eyes were bare and dry. Why could nothing go right?

“What is a hobbit lass like this doing here crying so bitterly, I wonder? Little miss, what ails you?”

Bess tilted her head up in curiosity. Standing before her was a tall man, clad all in brown. On one shoulder was a raven, on the other was a sparrow. He held a large wooden staff that held a glowing orb at the top, and at his belt hung different herbs.

“Who….who are you?”

The man smiled, “My name is Radagast, little miss. I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey. I believe he has visited here.”

A wizard! This was amazing! And a friend of Gandalfs, no less. Bess had been told of bad wizards that lurked in the Old Forrest, but she didnÂ’t really know if that was true or Tom Cottons latest prank.

“Well…yes, IÂ’ve seen him, once at Mister Bilbos house..But, I thought other wizards never came here! Gandalf says that other wizards pay no attention to us.”

Radagasts face clouded for moment, and he muttered, “Saruman…he will never think of things more than metal and wheels….But where was I? You seemed to be extremely distressed, little hobbit, before I came along. What is the matter?”

Bess tried hard not to cry again in front of this great man. “ItÂ’s nothing…no really, itÂ’s nothing…..wait a moment.” She stared at the herbs at the wizards belt, “Do you have athelas in there amongst that lot?”

Radagast smiled and plucked out a spring of a springy, dark green plant, “I have not the skill of an experienced herb-master, little one, however powerful wizards are said to be. But here, unless I am mistaken, is the plant athelas. Although I am told the Shire’s inhabitants think of it plainly as a weed, and I am curious to know what one of them should want with it.”

But Bess was staring at the herb like it was a precious gem, “Nothing!” she almost squealed, “But thank you! Thank you so much!” Without further ado she hugged the surprised wizard tightly around the waist, snatched the herb and ran of, shouting, “Thank you again! Goodbye!”

Radagast chuckled slightly, “These hobbits,” He muttered, “Are without the queerest creatures I’ve ever seen. Gandalf may be right about them, and he may not be; but Saruman is definitely wrong about them.”

“But,” a niggling voice at the back of his head went on,” He may have uses for them. Uses even the Wise cannot see.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bess meanwhile was hurtling at top speed down the road to Hobbiton. Just donÂ’t crash into anyone, was the thought in her mind, donÂ’t crash into anyone and you will be okay…….

CRASH! Famous last words. Bess looked up fro her uncomfortable position on the floor. Pain, pain and more pain, was all that going through her mind. And what on earth was she going to say to the unfortunate soul that sheÂ’d crashed into. Â’Please donÂ’t let it be Lobelia Sackville-BagginsÂ’ she thought desperately, Â’Just not her..Â’

“Bess? Why are you muttering like that?” Bess glared up at Nick Cotton. It was well known amongst their little group of friends that Nick was “sweet” on Bess, and also that Bess could not stand the thought. Not that she disliked him or anything but Nick Cotton…well the idea was just not worth thinking about.

Nick had extended his hand to help Bess up, but she had already leapt to her feet. The young lad stared at her. Bess was jumpy, unusually so. Since Caths sickness…

“Bess? Why do you look so happy?”

Bess, for once, grinned ear-to-ear at him, “IÂ’ve found some athelas! Well, I didnÂ’t find it, a wizard gave it to me….long story….Anyway, the point is, sheÂ’ll get better now! WonÂ’t she? Nick?”

Nick bowed his head. Someone had to tell her. But if it was him, sheÂ’d rip his head off. But if he didnÂ’t….”CathÂ’s gone beyond hope. She went into a coma about three days ago, and she hasnÂ’t come out of it. ThereÂ’s really no hope for her Bess.”

Bess could almost feel her stomach crumple into a ball and rise into her throat. “But…I found it just in time…..There still may be time! Come on Nick, weÂ’ve got to save her!”

“But they wonÂ’t let us in there…. ahhhh!”

Bess yanked Nicks hand and dragged him up the road, the athelas still tightly gripped in her hand.

The two teenagers hurtled up the road and burst, breathless, into the Gamgees house. Marigold just popped her head out the sitting room in time to say, “What on earth are you two doing here?”, before Bess crashed past and through the kitchen. Nick shoved his head into the room, where Frodo, Sam, Rosie and Marigold were sitting, obviously worried.

“Sorry about this guys,” He explained nervously, “But Bess’ got something that may cure Cath. Can’t really explain more.”

He dashed back into Caths room, where Bess was standing next to Caths bed. Silent tears were streaming down her face.

Nick stared down at Cath. He had never seen a face so pale as hers. Only the bright pink spots on her cheeks gave an indication to the burning furnace inside her. Her hair, lifeless and limp, was splayed out on her pillow, and her hand was hanging of the edge of the bed. The only sign to her life was the slow rising of her chest; but it was slow work, rising about only seven times a minute.

Nick gently put his hand on Bess’ shoulder. “Cummon Bess,” He told her quietly, “Lets go.”

Bess turned to face him, “Wait a minute,” She bent down, and very carefully, crushed the herb and put it next to the lass’ face. She then turned and, not looking at Nick, ran from the room. Nick slipped his hand into Cath’s own, squeezing it one last time, before going from the room.

And only the little bluebird that sat on the open window sill saw the colour return to the girlÂ’s cheeks, as she steadily breathed in the smell the tiny herb gave off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In her mind, shapes began to form through the cloud. The pain and the pressure was releasing her to the world of the living, and the coolth……Well, after the heat of Grass Fever, normal temperature felt like the coldest thing in the world.. Cath shivered and, out of instinct, reached for the cover. Usually, she noted, her arms wouldnÂ’t work at her bidding. This time however, they reached forward. Cath was, quite honestly, shocked.

She lay her head back on the pillow. She was still tired. Maybe in the morning sheÂ’d be able to have breakfast. Eru knew she was hungry enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke up to a clear morning. The heat wave had blown off in the middle of the night, and nearly every creature in the Shire had come out to feel the spectacle of coolth. Cath smiled to herself as she heard the familiar sound of birds cheeping outside her window. She opened her eyes, waiting to see if…..yep, it was there.

The bluebird was, as usual, standing on the table next to her bed. Cheeping its little heart out. Cath stretched out one finger. Yep, it would still work. The bluebird hopped onto it, and chirped merrily.

“Hello, little scrap,” Cath giggled as the bluebird pecked gently at her finger. She stretched out her whole hand, then both her arms, marvelling at how far they would go again. She stretched out her legs and as usual, they poked out from the blanket.

Still, just because her arms and legs were working, didnÂ’t mean the rest of her was. She sniffed. And sniffed again. And again. Soon the little sniffing turned into a checklist, to see if what she thought she could smell was right.

Well of all the cheek! Sam was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast! Without asking her if she wanted any! Cath swung her legs off her bed, fuming with indignance. She grabbed onto the table and shuffled forward, not putting too much pressure on her legs. She grabbed hold of the door knob and pulled.

Samwise Gamgee was going to rue the day he made breakfast without offering her some.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam poured the food onto five plates. Frodo, Bilbo, the Gaffer and Marigold all sat down at the table, all staring at him. Sam could feel the uncomfortableness heÂ’d always had creep up on him. But what he could feel most was overwhelming sadness. He didnÂ’t know if Cath was still alive or not, but he knew that, as the youngest, it would be his duty to find out. She was his little sister, after all.

The silence was beginning to get to him. He could almost hear sounds from the past, the bluebird that always came into Caths room cheeping, her getting out of bed…….

“Sam, how come you didn’t wait for me to have breakfast??!!”

No. That was just his imagination. Although, if it was just his imagination, how come everyone else was staring at CathÂ’s bedroom door?

The door burst open and……oh sweet eru there was Cath, her arms folded and her face pulled into a scowl like she usually had. Sam looked over at Frodo and Marigold and he could see that, just as much as he, they were absolutely gobsmacked.

“It’s not very nice you know, not waiting for me,” She sat down with an audible thump next to Frodo who, truth be told, was looking like a ghost was sitting next to him, “Just because I’ve been sick doesn’t mean I’m not hungry. I am, in fact, very hungry,” She gestured at the pan over on the cooker, “So can I have some then? Please?”

Everyone looked over at the Gaffer, waiting to see what he would say.

“Bloody hell…..”

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