And In The Darkness Bind Him

Slightly A/U, set between Weathertop and Rivendell. Frodo Angst. NO Slash, profanity, violence, etc. Rated PG-13, for mood.

A/N: Please be kind! This is my first fic. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please R/R! :)

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing to do with Middle-Earth. I don't even own my computer! All characters, locations, etc, belong to the Tolkien Estate.

1.1 Chapter I

"Frodo, my boy, breakfast is almost ready. Wake up sleepy-head!" Frodo recognized the voice as Bilbo's. He jumped out of bed, hurrying into the kitchen. Everything was so dark… as if the sun hadn't yet risen. "Frodo…" he heard the voice and stopped in his tracks. That voice… it didn't belong to his beloved uncle Bilbo. It was deeper… darker, perhaps. He saw a glimmer of light coming from the sitting room. He began to walk cautiously towards the room. "Where are you?" the voice said, "Did you lose your way in the dark?" The last part was said almost as if it were meant to mock Frodo. He entered the room and suddenly a harsh red beacon of hot light burst forth. It pierced through his clothes, flesh, bone, and down to his very soul. Frodo shielded his eyes, and strained to see the source of the light. At the center of the bright beam, was the Eye. It was searching, searching for… something. He knew very well what it searched for. Fear seized him as began to run from the room "You shan't have it! It belongs to me- stay away!" As he ran, the room got larger and darker. It was inescapable. A mist clouded his vision. Then he fell, head first, to the hard cold floor.

Frodo opened his eyes and shot straight up from his bedroll, gripping at the ring that hung on a chain around his neck. Doing so was a mistake he instantly regretted, as waves of icy pain gripped him and shot through his left side, echoing throughout his entire body. He bit back the cries of anguish that wanted to come. The world began to spin, and he collapsed back onto his bedroll. Frodo lay there a few moments trying to catch his breath, chills wracking his small body mercilessly; he looked up into the dark night sky. The stars… they were so… dim. Distant. He almost felt as though he were only looking at a reflection of them in a muddy puddle.

He was so cold. So very cold. Everyone in the company had spared all they could, to ensure that Frodo at least had a chance at staying warm. A pang of guilt stabbed at Frodo's heart as his eyes drifted over to the scantily clad huddled mass of his kinsmen. He pushed the thoughts away. They wanted what was best for him- he knew that. If the effort of talking hadn't been so great, he would have explained to all of them that no amount of blankets could ward off this icy cold that now seized his entire body. Alas, he knew that telling them would have been a terrible waste of his dwindling energy.

His breath began to come in shallow, painful gasps. "It hadn't been this bad before. Had it?" But, he tried to rationalize this sudden change that had come over him, blaming it on the chilly, damp night air. They were nearly 8 days off from Rivendell. The thought of enduring this pain and cold for that much longer made Frodo want to give in to the darkness that was trying its hardest to steal him away. He must not let that happen. He mustn't give in to it.

Without warning, the world around him began to grow darker and darker. Even the murky starlight ceased to exist in his painful world. He saw a dark form approaching him, and just as fear seized him, all went dark.