Author's Note : These nightmares are not meant to have any kind of rhyme or reason. They are simply nightmares and I will be jumping around in time. They go with my fic OF DREAMS AND RINGS.

Nightmare notes : Frodo has been spending a lot of time convincing himself that he's not good enough for Gailethil. He had stayed in the Shire for the most part because he knew he was a hobbit and she was an elf. He couldn't bear the idea of rejection if he went to Rivendell and met her…and lost her like he had lost everyone else. He was jealous of Glorfindel who he thinks Gailethil is in love with and would rather be with, but she's tied to Frodo through dreams and visions. Every time he convinced himself to leave the Shire, he stalled…afraid of meeting her, afraid that he won't live up to her expectations, and afraid that she only said she loves him because she came to him when he is ill and they are drawn together because of the Ring. When Gandalf last visited, he spoke of that and it hurt him terribly. He spoke of her connection to the One Ring, and he wondered…he wondered a lot whether it was the Ring she loved…and not him. It held him back, the indecision and the insecurities that have built up inside of him since he lost his parents. It was difficult to decide what he was really jealous of. The Ring? Glorfindel? The fact that she was an elf…and he was afraid..
5 -- Things not done (This takes place when Frodo is 49)

Frodo ran his fingers through his hair tiredly…he'd been walking for some time and his chest ached. There was nothing he'd rather do that sit down and rest. He's forehead was wet, and his curls were sticking there. He was tired and miserable, but there was somewhere he needed to get to, yet he could not remember where. There was a heavy weight around his neck and a warning in his heart that he could not stop…he had to go on.

Well…it was for her.

He shivered, drawing his cloak around him. If he got rid of it…he would be free…and she would look at him…and he would not have to wonder if she was looking at the Ring. She would be looking at him…and him alone, like she had when he was younger. Before the bracelet….before the ring…She tried…she really did…his breathe caught in his throat as an image of her face rose to his mind. Her beautiful eyes gazing at him as though he was the most precious thing in the world.

The years swam by in his mind, it had been so long for him, yet…she never changed. Not for 16 years did she age at all, and it never seemed as long for her as it was for him.

Where was he going? The land was thick with mist, and he felt like he was old…very old…and weak…He lifted his hand to his neck and the Ring was gone…he was on his way to her after all, he was sure. But there was a sense of loss still that he couldn't describe.

He was now walking through the halls of Rivendell…towards her room…desperately trying to get there. He looked into a mirror and his eyebrows rose at what he saw there. Frodo was old…older than Bilbo…old and frail from adventures he could not remember but held deep in his heart. His thick curls once shiny and black were gray and matted, and the only thing that was remotely recognizable was his blue eyes…they were still as intense as they ever were. He closed them and continued on, she was waiting for him…and he wanted to tell her that he succeeded…he had finally defeated the Ring…given it up…

He opened the door to her room, and stood in absolute shock. His eyes glistened over as he stared at the bed …familiar…yet foreign…His heart quickened, and he leant against the doorframe for support. He had known this day was going to come…he was old…why would she wait for him? He was going to die…he was not an elf. He was of no use to her, anyway. But all he really wanted was to be picked up and held in her warm arms, cradled and rocked like when he was younger. He yearned for that like one would desire their most favorite things after so many years without. But now…now it was impossible…he'd no longer feel her arms around him, nor would she ever look at him the way he wanted her to. He cringed, tears collected in his eyes and they fell.

He was not tall and beautiful, with long blonde hair and sinewy limbs like the elf who made love to her right now. They were locked in a kiss, a fire that burned around them. Glorfindel and Gailethil and he could only watch while the elf's hands trailed in places that Frodo would never have dared. Soft…beautiful places. Once he remembered leaning against, and thinking about. It had always brought a blush to his cheeks and he never dared hope…nor venture in that direction. But here…someone had taken the steps he never could. Was that ever to truly be his fate?

For to Frodo…she was an angel…his angel. The light in his dark world…the one who had held him up when all he wanted to do was lie down and die. To touch her in any other way…more than a kiss, to not respect her…to venture what his heart desired would have been to lower her to his level. It was not that he never wanted to, nor dreamed about it, it was that…the timing had never been right for them. For these long years he wrestled with himself…finding all the reasons he should never ask her. Even…even if she did love Glorfindel…he…he could live with it. He just wanted her to be with him…to cuddle him and to tell him everything was going to be alright. That would be enough…that would be enough.

And she responded to the elf in ways she had never responded to him. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, a grave anxiety that churned and threatened to spill over. He quietly closed the door and wandered blindly into the hallway, finding a corner to curl up in….and sob wretchedly as though his heart was broken.

He looked up after a while, and blinked miserably…realizing that he was back in Bag End, and in a nightshirt. He must have been sleepwalking. He drew a ragged breath and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, shivering…It was winter…possibly his last winter in Bag end. He needed to leave the shire soon. To heed Gandalf. He took the pendant out of his pocket and stared at her face. He knew that it was only a nightmare, one of many he'd been having recently. What could he do? He knew he was jealous of her friendship with Glorfindel, but he also knew she would not betray him like that. He didn't understand why his mind was going in such places, nor what was going on in his head. He loved her, he knew that….and had to hang on to that. And he knew that she loved him. There was no way he could let that go, not now…perhaps not until the end of his days no matter what happened. He would face her…next year….next year would be easier…