---
Rosie stood at the counter of Bag End's kitchen, deftly stirring the bowl of cake batter with her left hand while feeding bits of bread to baby Elanor with her right. She was now used to such juggling acts as this, as she'd been a mother for a full five months now. Elanor was growing into a full-fledged little girl. She matured with every baby step she took across the hardwood floor, and she was smiling her gummy smile at everyone who passed by these days. Rosie loved being a mother, and as of right now, she'd never been prouder of anything in her life.
The cake was for Frodo. As autumn's crisp apple scent wafted more and more commonly through the open air, his birthday drew closer. It was in exactly one week, and Rosie figured she'd better get an early start. She and Sam were planning something small, as was usual these days in the Baggins-Gamgee household, but still, there were so many things to do in preparation for making Frodo's day a good one.
Elanor squawked in her shill little voice, begging for more bread. A true little Gamgee, Rosie thought to herself laughingly as she stuffed the baby to her fill. I mustn't get lost in thought anymore while taking care of the little one and cooking at the same time, though. I might be clumsy and drop boiling water on her precious fingers. Rosie stretched her aching neck. Hunching over a book of recipes for hours at a time was not her ideal afternoon, but anything for Frodo. He was getting stronger and more willful every day. Soon, Rosie hoped and prayed, he'd be getting back to the way he was before all the darkness had crept in.
Rosie jumped as she heard Frodo himself walk into the kitchen sleepily. He'd just been napping in the back garden, and she hadn't heard him creep up.
"Good afternoon, Rosie-love. Isn't it a wonderful day outside?" He yawned widely while Rosie hastily tried to conceal any evidence of what she'd been doing prior. "Oh, what are you baking?" Too late. She fumbled for an excuse.
"Er... just a little something for... Mrs. Goldwater over in... yes, she had a son last week, and I thought I'd make her a little something..." She faltered, and smiled innocently, finishing with a vague semblance of a "Never you mind, Frodo dear." He chuckled. It was then that she noticed the sweat beading against his skin. "Frodo, are you feeling alright?" she inquired, worried. "You're looking faint..."
"Oh, not entirely too well, but I'll be fine by tomorrow, I promise. I just--" He was cut off by a racking cough that exploded from his lungs, shaking his already thin frame with spasms. Rosie's hand scrambled over the messy countertop like a small peach crab, groping for a rag he could spit into, to clear his lungs, but it was to no avail, and by the time she reached him, he'd fallen to the floor in a dead faint.
"Frodo?!" Rosie cried, panicked. "SAMWISE?!" she called desperately out the back door. "We've got a bit of trouble..."
-----
They'd propped Frodo up on three feather pillows in the big bed after he'd awakened. He was still incredibly weak-looking as he lay with his eyes closed in a restful state, his skin looking an unhealthy white pallor against the deep cream of the pillowcases. Rosie stood in the last beams of sunlight streaming through the window, and looked at him sadly. She reached out and stroked his cheek, to comfort her own self of his solidity if not him.
"You just sleep now, right, Frodo?" Sam whispered sweetly from the foot of the bed. Rosie could see his knuckles were white, gripping the footboard in obvious discomfort. He worried so...
"Hmm?" Frodo opened his eyes; it seemed he hadn't heard much. "Oh no, I'm not tired, I just think I'll rest for a bit, so much to do..." And then he was asleep.
Both Sam and Rosie kissed his pale cheeks lovingly, and, hand in hand, made their way to Frodo's old room. They'd sleep there tonight.
-----
Rosie noticed him,while she changed his spread, gazing wistfully out the open window, out to the changing leaves of the forest beyond, and the golden ones of the new Party Tree. He caught her, and pulled her over to the bed.
"Why can't I have that, Rose?" He whispered painfully in his husky voice. She grabbed his cool, clammy fingers and sat at the edge of the bed.
"Tell me everything, Frodo. Everything. Don't let it build up, it'll rot you from within..." Her voice trailed as his eyes began to tear.
"I'm already rotten," he began with a heavy sigh. She tried to protest, but he cut her off, putting his finger over her small mouth. "I am, Rose. Tainted. I'll never be happy again, can't you see, and my soul's been absolutely ripped to shreds. And it's entirely my fault." Once again, she opened her lips, but closed them when he silenced her. "I was walking again, Rose. But I stumbled without expecting it. And the fall has taken such a toll on me. I'm lifeless now. It's in these days when I begin to realize the hold the ring had on me. It squeezed my soul shut form all love, I couldn't give it, couldn't take it..."
"But I thought we were doing so well, I thought we'd near enough cracked through that shell for good!"
"I know Rose, but it doesn't work... the darkness has taken me. I can't fight it, I've fallen in."
Rosie sighed. "Frodo, if you don't mind my saying so, it just seems that you're sad, not sick."
"I am sad, and that's why I'm sick. The sadness is my illness. I can't fight it without hope, and I have none."
This was utter nonsense in Rosie's mind. Of course he had hope. Wasn't a child enough for him? Elly's growth was what used to bring him out of bed every morning. She told him just that indignantly.
"But Rose, I try so hard, but I can't see that anymore. I'm all in the dark, and I can't find my way home. Hope is an empty thought now, and I can't fight. The truth is, I'm scared. Scared of what could happen if I chased the dark away."
"Then we'll fight for you. Those demons in your soul won't stand a chance against the love in our hearts for you. Can't you see? We love you so much that it's painful to see you so afraid." They were both crying now, big, wet tears that drenched their clothes.
"Thank you... thank you... I want to be happy... I love you, Rose..."
"I love you too, Frodo dear."
They sat like that for a long time, Frodo's head buried in Rosie's chest as she stroked his curls gently.
-----
"Motherhood suits you, " Frodo commented from the bed as Rosie tidied the fireplace, balancing Elly on her hip at the same time.
"Fatherhood would suit you, too, silly, if you'd stop being so tragically sad." Rosie gave him a half smile. It was the truth, he'd make a wonderful father.
"No," Frodo replied with a sigh. "You and Sam and Elly-duck are wonderful, and you're all the family I could ever ask for."
But his eyes got misty and sad, and Rosie tiptoed out the door, closing it behind her with a barely audible click.
-----
It became apparent that Frodo's birthday would not be everything they'd planned. Rosie and Sam, however, vowed resolutely to make him happier than he'd been yet in the past week. In the early hours of the morning, they crept to the big bed, candles atop the cake burning brightly.
Elanor was set upon Frodo's chest, and squealed happily as she played pat-a-cake with his face, waking him quickly. "Oh, my dears," cried Frodo joyfully. "You are the best family I could ask for."
"We love you too, silly duck," Rosie chuckled as Elanor crooned with delight at her family being together and happy again.
They crowded into the big bed, arms holding lovingly and sat in gentle tenderness. "Happy birthday, Frodo," Rosie whispered
~