A/N: At the end, dialogue in italics is from another story, "First Impressions"

Chapter three: Mist, shadows and fire

Sam plopped down onto a chair by the hearth. Frodo also sat down beside him.

"Sam?"

The gardener feared what he had to say to Frodo. Besides not wanting him to remember, Sam had known it all would be overwhelming for his master. But he had to tell him something, and so Sam began with the ring. After that, he told him the rest. Once Sam finished, he noted confusion and fear on his master's face.

"Frodo? Is any of it familiar?"

Frodo scrunched his face while trying to remember. "I see things as if through a mist, or they're like shadows haunting me. What you've said, it sounds horrible. I'm not sure if I want to remember."

"That's why I didn't want to tell you. But I understand you wanted to know what's goin' on because of the ring."

"I'm tired," said Frodo. He stood from the chair and sadly looked down at Sam. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Sam answered softly. When Frodo had gone, Sam stayed seated in the chair. Staring out into the parlor, he could not stop worrying about his master. A few days ago, Frodo was happy, but Sam feared it wouldn't be for long once he started to remember, even if the memories weren't clear. And at the moment, Sam had wished he could forget. He wished the memories stopped assaulting him. Sam shut his eyes, squeezing them tight; his hands gripped the armrests. Suddenly, he was able to stop their assault by thinking about the Shire…and Rosie. Sam opened his eyes. He let out a deep breath. Fear and tension left him and now he sat calmly. Sam wanted to cry. Instead, the emotionally exhausted hobbit's face fell onto his hands.

Frodo moped into his room and slumped down in a chair at his desk. Although he was tired, he didn't go to bed yet. He preferred to lay his head upon the desk and stare at the soothing fire-light inside the lantern beside him. Frodo recalled what he told Sam…

"I'm not sure if I want to remember."

He kept his eyes steady on the flame as long as he could. Sleep had come for him and despite his efforts to fight it; Frodo surrendered to sleep that took him away into the darkness. Every now and again, his turned his face from the left to the right, sleeping restlessly. Frodo's elbow nudged the lantern that had been moved to the edge until it fell and plummeted to the floor. The lantern cracked. Fragments of glass shimmered in the moonlight, and then something else began to glow. Flames rolled out across the floor. Quickly and angrily, they morphed into bigger flames that targeted Frodo's bed. First the bed post and then they spread across the linens.

Frodo woke to an acrid smell that wafted into his nostrils. His eyes blinked open; still groggy and disoriented, he didn't know whether he was actually awake or dreaming. It had taken a few minutes until his senses were alert to what was happening. The smell now unbearable and suffocating. His eyes were wide with shock and fright at what he saw…

Fire.

Frodo leaped from the chair. Terrified, he fell back against the wall, coughing and gasping desperately for much needed air. Smoke swirled furiously and the monstrous flames crackled along the walls and ceiling. Suddenly Frodo found himself back inside Mount Doom, standing on the edge of a cliff and holding the gold ring above a stream of lava. He could hear Sam shouting behind him in the distance, shouting…

"Throw it!"

He wanted to keep the precious ring, sliding it onto his finger, but Smegol also wanted the ring even if it meant biting Frodo's finger off to get it. Sam didn't tell him that part. Now it all made sense as to why he only had four fingers. They were outside Mount Doom. The ring was destroyed and they laid together on a rock while lava spewed all around them. He glanced at Sam beside him, his gardener and loyal friend. Sam! Other memories flashed in his mind…Merry and Pippin, his cousins. Uncle Bilbo, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and everyone else he knew. Everything about the Quest was no longer a mist or shadows. Yes, the horrifying journey had ended and now Frodo feared for his life again.

"I have to get out," he shouted to himself. Unfortunately the window was blocked by fire. The door had been the only way out. Frodo slowly moved along the wall, keeping his eyes on the flames. His hand groped for the knob but before he could grasp it, smoke overwhelmed Frodo. He slid down against the door and onto the floor.

"Help--," he managed to say and slipped into unconsciousness.

Sam peeled back the covers and as he was about to get in bed, he sniffed.

Smoke.

He wondered where it was coming from. Was it inside his home? Sam left his room and had gone out into the kitchen. He then walked inside the parlor, cautiously looking around. Nothing. He neared the front door and the smell grew stronger. Opening it, he hadn't been relieved that the fire wasn't in his home. A fire burned somewhere and it concerned Sam greatly. He hurried out into the warm night air, following the heavy scent of smoke that led him to Bag End. Sam's hairy feet came to a halt. His eyes wide and his mouth open at the sight of Frodo's smial on fire. There were a few hobbits standing outside, watching and frightened until Sam shouted…

"Get water!"

There had been no hesitation. Sam jerked the gate open and rushed up to the burning smial. He noticed the fire hadn't yet spread. For the moment, it appeared to be isolated in one spot—Frodo's bedroom. Sam pummeled his fist three times against the round door. "Mr. Frodo!" Hearing no answer, a frantic Sam ran over to the half-open window. He opened it wider, climbed through and once inside, Sam coughed and sputtered from smoke smothering each bit of oxygen, and soon there would be nothing left if he didn't hurry. "Mr—Frodo!" Sam stumbled through the parlor. His teary eyes stung and his lungs begged for air, but Sam had to go on. He stopped at the bedroom door and turning the knob, Sam wondered why the door wouldn't open all the way, as if something blocked it. He leaned all his weight against it until the door opened wide enough for him to see an unconscious Frodo on the floor. "Mr. Frodo!"

Suddenly, flames shot out from above the door, startling Sam who stumbled backwards. The fire began to spread. He had to get Frodo out. Sam crawled on the floor as the fire raged above him. He grabbed hold of Frodo's hand and mustering all his strength, Sam pulled Frodo out of the room. Assaulted with dizziness, he refused to let himself faint.

"Get up!" he screamed inwardly.

Ahead, Sam could see the front door. Determined to get there, he hoisted Frodo into his arms. Walking unsteadily to the door, he opened it and hurried out. When he had been a safe distance from the smial, Sam collapsed onto the ground with Frodo in his arms. More hobbits came to help, carrying buckets of water from the well. They rushed past them and onward to Frodo's home.

"Sam!" he heard the Gaffer shout while his dad ran towards him. Sam gasped for air and when the Gaffer called him again, his name and everything else had blurred. And like Frodo, he fell into unconsciousness.

Frodo slowly opened his eyes. At first he was unsure of his surroundings and who sat in a chair beside him; then he remembered.

"Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo smiled and softly said, "Sam." He suddenly bolted upright from the pillow. "The fire!"

"You're okay, now. I got you out of there. You're safe in my home."

Relieved, Frodo rested his head back onto the pillow. "Sam, I remember you."

Sam's eyes widened. "You do? That's good, Mr. Frodo!" He was happy Frodo remembered who he was, and yet his heart sank at the thought of his master haunted again by the memories…so many wounds.

Frodo began, "It was the fire. I remember feeling like I was trapped in my room and then it all came back to me. Sam, is my home all right?"

"There's nothing left of it."

Frodo sadly turned his face away from Sam and gazed at warm sunlight pouring in through the window.

"Mr. Frodo, you can stay here."

Frodo looked at him again. "Thank you, Sam.

Sam smiled and placed his hand on Frodo's left arm, squeezing it gently. The stout hobbit stopped smiling when Frodo had disappeared from the bed. Sam squinted his eyes in confusion, and then he realized what he saw had been a memory. "Mr. Frodo," he whispered, swallowing hard and straining back his tears. "Please, come back."

"Sam."

He didn't turn at the sound of Rosie's voice. Despite his silence, Rosie entered what was once Frodo's room and stood beside her husband. "I know you didn't want him to remember, and then everything would've been like it was before the Quest. He would still be here now. But some things are meant to be. It was meant for him to go to the Grey Havens. It's best for him."

Sam rose from the chair and circled his arms around Rosie. He hugged her tightly and instead of fighting the tears, he let them stream down his cheeks.

While Rosie cooked dinner, Sam had taken a walk to Bag End. After the fire, which had happened a few years ago, another smial was built. He stood in front of the hobbit hole that hadn't been much different from Frodo's home, except for the orange door. The garden was well tended with a brilliant display of roses, orchids, gardenias and other various flowers. Tears seeped into Sam's eyes again and he managed a smile. He would never forget when they first met…

Frodo stood on the steps while Sam knelt down in the bare garden. The gardener said, "I'll start working on it right away, planting seeds and all. Soon it'll be time for the flowers to bloom. I'll start tomorrow if you like?"

"Tomorrow will be fine." Frodo thanked him with a warm smile.

Sam trotted back up to the smial and then he stopped a few steps down from where Frodo stood. He had to think of something to start another conversation. "Your Uncle Bilbo is a good cook. I love chicken stew and roast chicken."

"He told me you're a good cook, too."

Struggling with what to say next, the gardener uttered, "Mr. Baggins is very kind."

"It sounds to me like you don't believe my uncle, that you really are a good cook."

"Well--," Sam paused timidly. He shrugged his shoulders and peeked down at the steps."

Frodo went on to say, "I bet you can cook a delicious roast chicken."

"I'll try." Sam looked up at his new friend. "One day, Mr. Frodo. One day."

End