October 24
“I know you don’t approve, Aragorn,” Gandalf said, “but it was necessary. There is no one else now living whose will has been so tested against the One Ring, and whose mind and body hold such information about those who pursue it. Even Saruman has not gained such knowledge.”
“I know,” Aragorn sighed. He sank into one of the chairs near the window. “It is only that I feared his strength would be drained from such questioning.”
It had been a long night, with Aragorn and Gandalf taking turns sitting with Sam. Frodo had slept peacefully, stirring occasionally and murmuring something, but seemingly without nightmares. Morning dawned clear and warm, and Gandalf had finally persuaded a groggy Sam to return to his room. The hobbit had at last reached his limits, and before he could protest or argue, he was tucked into his bed, succumbing at last to the sleep he had denied himself for days.
Since then, Gandalf had been sitting at Frodo’s side, probing the hobbit’s mind and memory of every detail of the past month. Occasionally he would speak and Frodo, still asleep, would answer, softly and dreamlike, until at last the wizard was satisfied.
“I said to you once that he was the best hobbit in the Shire, do you remember?” Gandalf mused.
“I do,” Aragorn replied. “Somehow you recognized what he was, and Bilbo did as well. I have never seen the like of Frodo’s strength and spirit. He well deserves a long rest before returning home.”
“Indeed he does,” the wizard agreed, “but he may continue to surprise us. He may surprise even himself.”
~*~
At first, waking seemed much the same as the wisps of dream in which he had been drifting -- warmth, and comfort, and light streaming in from everywhere. Frodo felt soft sheets and a gentle breeze on his face. Opening his eyes, he saw light dancing on an ornately carved ceiling, and tried to comprehend what had happened. Was he awake? Had a whole day passed since…
“Where am I?” he murmured. “What is the time?”
“In the House of Elrond, and it is ten o’clock in the morning,” Gandalf said, coming to the bed and smiling down at the hobbit. “It is October the twenty-fourth, if you want to know.”
“Gandalf!” Frodo started to sit up.
“Frodo, lie still,” Aragorn said, quickly coming to stand by the wizard’s side.
“Oh Estel,” Frodo said, “I hope this isn’t a dream.”
“It isn’t,” the Ranger smiled. “Welcome back, little one.” He saw Frodo reach up to feel the bandage. “Are you in pain?”
“It hurts a bit,” Frodo admitted, “but…” He touched his left hand with his right. “It isn’t cold,” he murmured.
“Can you move your arm at all?” Aragorn watched, relieved, as Frodo was able to move the fingers of his left hand slightly. “Can you see clearly again?”
“Yes,” Frodo said with relief. “Things were so dim, for so long…” He looked at Aragorn and smiled. “You’re all cleaned up.” He reached up to feel the Ranger’s velvety garments.
The Ranger laughed with delight and slid both arms beneath Frodo, then lifted the hobbit into a sitting position and settled him against his chest.
“It’s over,” Frodo sighed, scarcely able to believe it. ”We made it.”
“We made it,” Aragorn agreed. “You’re safe.” After a moment, he gently lay Frodo back down.
Frodo looked from Gandalf to Aragorn. “Where’s Sam? And are the others all right? Please tell me what happened.”
Aragorn and Gandalf told Frodo what had occurred since the events at the Ford. Frodo listened in amazement, and tears came to his eyes when he learned that Merry had been hurt. He demanded every detail about the Riders, Glorfindel, and the flood, and listened quietly as Aragorn told him about their arrival in Rivendell, and that Elrond had found the splinter and removed it.
“And now,” Aragorn said gently, as Frodo tried to stifle a yawn, “I think you might be able to sleep a bit more.”
“Soon,” Frodo admitted. “But first, how can it be October twenty-fourth? You haven’t told me about…”
Elladan and Elrohir found Merry and Pippin enjoying their ‘second breakfast,’ a concept (and meal) that the Elves would have found quite amusing had Bilbo not lived with them for so long. The two hobbits looked up as they approached.
“Frodo is awake,” Elladan began, “and we thought that you---”
“I’ve never seen anyone move so fast,” Elrohir said with admiration, as the two hobbits leaped up from the table and dashed off. “It is a shame to interrupt their meal, but I see that Pippin took a snack with him.” He chuckled and righted the overturned bowl of raspberries from which Pippin had snatched a quick handful.
“I doubt he took the berries for himself,” Elladan said with a smile. “You still have much to learn about hobbits, dear brother.”
Just as Gandalf was telling Frodo that he had finally sent Sam off to get some rest, Merry and Pippin fairly flew through the open door, completely out of breath.
“Oh, Merry,” Frodo cried, “are you all right?”
”Am I all right?” Merry gasped.
Pippin approached the bed, nearly as shaken as Merry.
“It’s about time you woke up, cousin.” Pippin’s eyes were huge in his pale face. “I’ll have you know that this silly Brandybuck was scared, but I wasn’t.”
“You’re so brave, Pip,” Frodo said, his eyes shining with pride and love. “You knew everything would be all right.”
“I did know,” Pippin whispered. “You promised. I knew you wouldn’t…” But it was too much… too much burying of fear for too many weeks. All at once, a cascade of emotion overwhelmed the young hobbit -- bursting into tears, he scrambled onto the bed before anyone could stop him, and wrapped himself tightly (but carefully) around his cousin.
“Stubborn Baggins,” he sobbed into Frodo’s chest.
“Silly Took,” Frodo whispered.
Merry came to the bed, grinning, and climbed up to sit next to Frodo, unable to tear his eyes away from his cousin’s face. Frodo was paler than he should be, and looked tired, but he was awake, and smiling. He was awake.
“Are you all right?” Frodo persisted.
“Yes,” Merry reassured him. “My head’s too hard for any real damage, apparently.”
“I brought you something,” Pippin said, wiping his eyes on Frodo’s blanket. “They got squashed, though.” He opened his hand to reveal a mush of berries.
“Oh Pip,” Frodo sighed. He scooped up some of the red goo and popped it into his mouth, savoring the ripe, tart-sweet taste. “I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” Pippin grinned with joy and fed his cousin the rest of the squashed berries.
“Hardly a proper meal,” said a stern voice from the doorway.
Elrond walked into the room with a cup in his hand and smiled at the sight of the Ringbearer awake and alert, with berry-stained lips and a cousin on either side of him.
“I am Elrond, Frodo. You are most welcome to this House.”
“Lord Elrond!” Frodo gazed in wonder at the Elf-lord whom Bilbo had met so long ago. “Thank you, sir.”
“You may not want to thank me in a moment.” Elrond sat next to Merry and propped Frodo up slightly with pillows, bringing the cup to the hobbit’s lips. “You need to drink a bit of this now, and more later,” he said.
“Is that what you gave me?” Merry asked.
“No,” Elrond said ruefully. “I am sorry, Frodo, about the taste.”
“What about it?” Frodo sniffed the contents and looked at the Elf lord in amazement. “You want me to drink that?”
“Hold your breath,” Pippin said helpfully.
Frodo sighed and drank down the potion, trying not to grimace. Elrond could see at a glance that his patient was still weary, and needed rest. A lot more.
“That’s a long enough visit for now,” he said firmly to Merry and Pippin, who immediately scrambled off the bed.
“What about food?” Pippin asked. “He hasn’t eaten in days!”
“We have no plans to starve your cousin,” Elrond said sternly, but with a twinkle in his eyes. “He will wake in time for supper.” He smiled at the young hobbit’s obvious distress. “Do not fear for him, Pippin -- not while he is our guest.” Elrond rose to his feet and ushered the two hobbits out of the room, and Gandalf left with him.
“Estel,” Frodo murmured, fighting to stay awake.
“I am right here.”
“You look so tired. Have you had any sleep?”
“I will sleep now that you are on the mend, little one.”
Frodo smiled at him. “Little one… I dreamed that you were calling me that. You were calling me… telling me you were… proud of me.”
Aragorn smiled back, overjoyed that Frodo’s only memory of the past days was what he believed to be a gentle dream.
“I am.”
Frodo was nearly asleep when a shimmering light and sweet fragrance seemed to envelop him. Opening his eyes, he beheld a vision so unexpected that he knew he must already be dreaming. An Elf woman of incredible beauty was smiling at him. “Rest, Frodo,” came a low, gentle voice. “Rest.” Then the vision faded as sleep claimed him.
Elrond re-entered the room, minus two hobbits, and came to stand with his daughter and foster son.
“He has Bilbo’s eyes,” Arwen said thoughtfully, “only brighter and deeper.” She looked down at the small garments she held, and chuckled. “Perhaps blue would have been more to his liking.”
“He will like these,” Aragorn assured her with a smile. “Besides, it will be good to see someone in this House wearing green once again!”
~*~
Frodo awoke to the sight of Sam Gamgee’s delighted face just inches away. Sam was sitting next to him on the bed, and his left hand was gently clasped in his friend’s two sturdy ones.
“Hullo Sam,” Frodo smiled.
“Hullo Sir.” Sam thought his grin would split his face in two. “When I heard you’d woken up earlier, Mr. Frodo, I was beside myself not to be here!”
“You’ve been here for days, Sam, and don’t think I don’t know it,” Frodo said softly. “Have you had any rest?”
“Yes,” Sam smiled. “Your hand is finally warm again. Can you move it?”
“It’s getting easier,” Frodo said, moving his left arm with an effort. “I truly thought I’d never have the use of it again.”
“Mr. Elladan?” Sam called out suddenly. A young-looking, dark-haired Elf, who had apparently been just outside the door, entered the room. “Could you ask someone to bring Mr. Frodo some supper, sir?”
“It would be my honor, Samwise,” the Elf smiled. “I am overjoyed to see you awake, Ringbearer.” He bowed to Frodo and left.
“Ringbearer?” Frodo frowned.
“That’s what some of the Elves call you,” Sam explained. “I told ’em you wouldn’t like it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Frodo sighed. He reached up to feel the Ring on its chain, and closed his eyes for a moment, slightly dizzy.
“Are you feeling all right, sir?” Sam asked, concerned.
Frodo smiled at his friend. “Just hungry, I suspect.” He looked back at the open doorway. “Is that the Elladan that Glorfindel and Estel were talking about?”
Sam grinned and nodded.
~*~
It was late, and Elladan stretched wearily. Even before the first Man or Dwarf had begun to arrive, Elrond had said that the Ringbearer must be guarded, day and night. When Frodo was up and about, they would continue to do so, but from a discreet and -- hopefully -- unobserved distance.
Elladan’s sharp ears caught a faint sound from Frodo’s room, and he hurried inside to find the injured hobbit lying on the floor next to the bed, trying to get up.
“I’m sorry,” Frodo said as Elladan knelt to help him. “It was so hot, I thought to open a window, but I got a little dizzy. I suppose I’m a bit shaky, still.”
Elladan glanced swiftly at the windows and archways, all open to the gentle night air, then lay a hand to Frodo’s brow.
“You have a fever, Frodo,” Elladan said. “It is not unusual, after an injury.” Just then, Elrohir arrived to relieve his brother. “Elrohir, would you find father and Aragorn, and tell them that Frodo is unwell?” He lifted the hobbit gently and put him back in bed.
“Thank you,” Frodo sighed. “I don’t mean to---”
“Frodo,” Elladan said, “you are no bother, and you must let us assist you in any way we can. You are our guest. Are you still dizzy?”
Frodo nodded.
“Close your eyes, then,” Elladan said softly. “Can you hear the fountains just outside? The waters sound quite beautiful, do they not?”
As Frodo listened, the Elf’s gentle voice and the rhythmic pulse of the waters lulled him into a light sleep.
As soon as he received the summons, Aragorn rushed to Frodo’s room. Elrond sat on the bed next to Frodo, who appeared to be asleep, and he looked up as his foster son came to his side.
“What has happened?” Aragorn asked.
“A fever,” the Elf lord said. He unbuttoned Frodo’s nightshirt, exposing the small chest. He gently unwound the cloths and removed the bandage from the wound.
Aragorn touched a finger to the inside of Frodo’s wrist, and frowned. “He’s very warm.”
“It is this.” Elrond lay two fingers gently over the neat stitches in Frodo’s left shoulder. “There is heat here, at the site of the wound, and some swelling.” He pressed very gently, and a faint moan escaped the hobbit’s lips. “I fear that there may be some infection that must be drained.”
Frodo’s eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes, startled to see Elrond and Aragorn looking down at him.
“Good evening, Frodo,” Aragorn said. “How long have you been feeling unwell?”
“I felt a bit dizzy before supper, but I thought maybe I was just hungry,” Frodo replied. He suddenly winced and reached for his shoulder. “What…”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Elrond said soothingly, guiding the small hand away from the wound. “There’s just one more minor thing that we need to take care of.”
“That’s good,” Frodo murmured. He realized that he really wasn’t feeling very well -- the room still seemed uncomfortably hot, and was slowly spinning. He closed his eyes against the dizziness, straining to understand the quiet Elvish being spoken between Elrond and Aragorn -- but they were speaking very quickly, and using too many words he didn’t know.
“I will need to reopen the wound,” Elrond was saying. “After the infection is found, and taken care of, it will need to be sutured again. Will you bring what we will need, and assist me?”
“Of course,” Aragorn replied. He rose to his feet, his concerned eyes on the hobbit’s flushed face. “He’s been through so much; I cannot bear the thought of him going through any more pain.”
“No pain will reach him,” Elrond murmured, bending closer to Frodo.
Frodo sighed as he felt a cool hand brush against his forehead. There was a whisper of strange Elvish words, and an urge to sleep. For a moment he dreamily wondered if the large bed was yielding beneath him, as he sank gently into a dark, quiet place… then all thoughts were stilled.
When he sensed that the hobbit was in a deep enough sleep, Elrond nodded and sat up straighter. He looked up at Aragorn.
“No pain will reach him,” the Elf lord repeated softly.
Aragorn gazed down at Frodo for a long moment before turning to Elrond. “He has barely begun to recover. You cannot possibly think that he will be able to attend a council as soon as tomorrow morning.”
“I had hoped he would, but now I do not,” said Elrond regretfully. “It will be postponed by one day.” He held up his hand to forestall the Ranger’s protest. “Just one day, Aragorn,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. “We will meet at Frodo’s very bedside, if necessary -- but the fate of the Ring must be decided, and the time has come.”
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