Note: This fanfic has angst, action, drama, and some humor.

This chapter rated G for ‘good’ ha ha ha

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Sam crept quietly into the room where his master lay sleeping. ‘How can mister Frodo lay in bed so long on such a fine day?’ he thought to himself, shaking his head. He padded noiselessly across the stone floor and threw open the silk curtains, flooding the room with bright spring sunshine. The figure in the bed groaned and rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.

“Come on, Mister Frodo!” said Sam in a cheerful voice, poking the fluffy pillow with his finger. “Time to get up!”

“Oohhh,” was the only response, and Sam pulled up a corner and peeked underneath. Meeting his eyes was a dark brown mess of tangled curls half covering Frodo’s sleepy face.

“Ow!” he cried as the light met his unaccustomed eyes. “Sam, just a few more minutes!”

“Sorry sir,” he apologized, “but your breakfast is getting cold. And it’s such a beautiful day today.”

Frodo sat up suddenly at the mention of breakfast, throwing the covers off and hoping to the floor.

“Drat,” he complained. “These beds are so high. Hobbits unfortunately were unexpected in Minas Tirith. How do you fare?”

“Oh, I’m fine, sir,” Sam blushed. “Do you remember that I’m sharing a room with Mister Pippin?”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Frodo said, slapping his forehead. “Now I remember. Did you say something about breakfast?”

“Yes I did,” Sam announced cheerily. “And you have company too.”

“Who is it?” inquired Frodo suspiciously while pulling on a clean shirt.

Sam laughed as he prepared to answer, but there was no need. The door burst open as two hobbits strode into the room, quite content it seemed with their intrusion.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” teased Merry. “We’ve become weary of eating with the Big Folk, so we decided to join you today.”

“Why, don’t you have duties, Pippin?” Frodo asked, concerned that his cousin should abandon his responsibilities to eat with his friends.

“I do,” he replied, “Later. But now, we eat!” He rubbed his hands together in delight as Sam brought a tray steaming with food into the room. Pippin left his cousins to help Sam bring in the utensils, and Frodo exclaimed to Merry

“How does he have so much energy? He’s only been up and about for a week, and yet he bounces around as though a river of wine flowed through him!”

Merry shrugged, his attention not on the question, but on the meal at hand. His cravings were well satisfied as the hobbits ate, speaking of small matters of unimportance, mostly compliments concerning the food. Pippin was in the midst of enjoying an unusually delicious sausage when a sudden feeling of dread came over him. He looked up in surprise at Merry, and noticed his cousin staring with alarm at Frodo. Pippin’s young eyes opened wide in confusion and surprise.

“Frodo…” he began, but his voiced concern was cut off sharply, as though someone had snatched them from the air.

“I’ve failed.” The words shot icily into the morning air, handing suspended over the forgotten meal as Frodo slowly rose from where he had been sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“I’ve failed,” he said again, utter despair flooded over his twisted face. He staggered backwards, and Sam suddenly leapt to his aid.

“Don’t touch me!” Frodo cried, his eyes wide with terror and vehemence.

“Mister Frodo…” whispered Sam, as his master went mad before his very eyes.

“The world will fall. They took it. I failed in the quest.” His eyes seemed to see things far away, as though reaching beyond the cold walls of the room into the very heart of the dark land. His eyes rolled far back in his head and he fell to the floor.

Merry and Pippin woke suddenly from their stupor and raced to his side. Sam was already checking the vital signs.

“Cold water, Pippin,” commanded Merry with a stern voice, and Pippin grabbed a goblet of water left from their meal and handed it to his cousin, shaking.

“Is he…dead?”

“No,” announced Sam finally, confidently, but with an unsteady voice. Frodo suddenly stirred and opened his eyes.

“Wh…what happened?” he gasped.

“You…I…don’t know,” admitted Merry, helping him sit up. “You jumped up and said you had failed in the quest, three times.”

“I did? Why on earth would I say a thing like that?” He seemed puzzled and confused, as though he hadn’t had the slightest idea of what he had done.

“Yes, you did. You seemed to go mad!”

“Mad?!”

Sam helped Frodo to his feet, and Merry said

“Let’s take you into the sunshine, Frodo. Perhaps you need some fresh air.”

“Yes, maybe I do. Are you sure I said those things? All I remember is waking up on the floor.”

Pippin nodded solemnly, and Frodo seemed embarrassed.

“Don’t tell anybody, will you?” he stammered. “It’s rather, humiliating. If I can help it, it shan’t happen again.”

“I sure hope it won’t,” muttered Sam under his breath as he led his master into the bright gardens. Suddenly though, a cloud covered the sun and all was dark and ominous in the courtyard. The flowers hid their faces and the leaves seemed to turn over in a slight wind breathing through the place. But the moment passed and the sun returned, and all was light and cheery once more. Sam, however, thought it a bad omen, but kept it to himself and said not a word.

~To be continued!~