Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,
for your King shall come again,
and he shall dwell among you
all the days of your life.
And the Tree that was withered shall be
renewed,
and he shall plant it in the high places,
and the City shall be blessed.
The song of the Eagle, ‘The Steward and the King’, The Return of the King
Frodo opened his eyes and stretched, breathing deeply of air that
smelled fresh and green, with a salty tang Elladan had said was
from the Sea. The shelter, sturdily built on a rise next to
the lake, had turned out to be surprisingly spacious and well
appointed. Over the years, Rangers had brought or built many
useful items. Chests held spare clothing as well as
feather-stuffed blankets. The walls were hung with
well-oiled tools – mostly axes and spades – as well as fish poles,
cooking pots, and utensils. A few rough chairs and tables
were scattered about the room, one piled with mismatched plates
and bowls. The packs he, Aragorn, and Elladan had brought
sat on another of the tables, and their horses’ gear was piled in
a corner.
Frodo rose from one of the comfortable sleeping pallets and peeked outside. He had only meant to nap for a short time, and hoped he hadn’t missed anything exciting. Aragorn was walking barefoot along the shoreline, throwing sticks for Scamp. The energetic pup had been digging, and was frisking about in the way she did only when very dirty and the center of attention – two of her favorite things.
There were several large fire pits nearby, and stacks of downed wood next to the shelter. Frodo wondered which of these rings of stone marked the place Halbarad and the Dwarves held their meeting just before Scamp’s pups were born.
“Good day, little one,” Aragorn smiled, as Frodo came to join them. Scamp raced up to Frodo, shaking herself. Wet sand flew in all directions.
“Now I really need a bath,” Frodo chuckled. He looked at the lake longingly. The sun was directly overhead, causing the water to sparkle.
“Best do it soon,” Aragorn advised him. “The air cools suddenly in late afternoon, as soon as the sun dips below the western hills.”
“May we have a fire tonight?”
“Of course!” Aragorn laughed. “How else will you grill all the fish?”
“I keep hearing about these fish,” Frodo teased, “but have yet to see them.”
“We will fish early this evening,” Aragorn promised. “The lake is full of many different kinds, some unique to this area.”
Frodo looked around for Elladan. The Elf stood within the large paddock, brushing Arthad. Biscuit was munching on a vine laden with tiny, succulent fruits that climbed the fence, while Romaryn rolled on her back in the long, soft grass. The paddock had been built around one of the ancient fountains still spilling into intricately-carved basins, so horses could enjoy the sweet water.
Stones, some carved and some of irregular shape, were tumbled everywhere like a discarded set of children’s blocks. Stars, trees, ships, and strange sea-creatures seemed to be the most popular carvings, even on the fountains and ruined walls. Groves of trees were large and shaggy, standing majestically in rich pasturage untouched for millenia. The grasses, and the multitude of colorful wildflowers, included unusual specimens that Frodo couldn’t wait to examine more closely.
“What do you think of Annúminas?” Aragorn asked.
“It’s beautiful here, but very different than I imagined,” Frodo said. “The Shire is so neat and orderly; this is rather... wild, isn’t it? I didn’t know there were places like this. Estel, it’s difficult to imagine a city, especially one made of stone. What did it look like?”
Aragorn got a faraway look in his eyes. “I have never seen a map or drawing of Annúminas as it once stood, but I have heard Lord Elrond, and some older than he, speak of it. The arts flourished here – sculpture, music, dance, horticulture, weaving – and the lake and river were teeming with boats used for both pleasure and trade. The buildings were large, but as gentle in shape as the land itself; fountains were everywhere; farmsteads and orchards fed the people, and the city’s beauty and nobility was unsurpassed.”
“It sounds absolutely... oh, look!” Frodo pointed south, high above the hill on which they had been sitting at dawn. Floating in slow circles was a bird. Even at such a distance, he could tell that it was enormous.
“An eagle,” Aragorn said. “They are seen, now and then, above the Hallow.”
“What’s a hallow?”
“It is a high place where the King would stand and give thanks to the Powers, on behalf of his people,” Aragorn said quietly. “It was a tradition brought from Númenor. There is a path not far from the one we traveled down this morning, leading up to it. The Hallow of Elendil, Annúminas’ first king, is now merely a sunken, silent meadow where no one goes. It is said that the eagles watch... and wait.”
“For what?”
“They await the city’s renewal, and the return of the King.”
The eagle circled twice more, then spiraled upwards until lost to sight.
Aragorn sighed, then shook off the moment of melancholy. He pointed out an area of the lake a short distance away. “That section is the most shallow, and as warm as anywhere you will find. Enjoy your swim.”
“I will,” Frodo said, tearing his eyes away from the sky. He returned to the shelter, dug soap and a towel out of his pack, then raced to the water’s edge and removed all but his linens. With a whoop, he flung himself into the clear, fresh water as Scamp ran back and forth along the shore. Clouds of seabirds rose as one, flying off in search of a more peaceful stretch of water.
Frodo spent a long time swimming in the lake. He was fascinated by the plants and fish, and the way the sun shot beams of light so deeply into the water. Finally emerging, blue-lipped and shivering, he dried off and sat in the sun for awhile on one of the large, warm stones, sketching everything he could see. Later, while Aragorn fished, he and Elladan went off to gather fresh greens.
~*~
Aragorn proved himself a worthy fisherman, and Frodo supervised grilling the large catch with spices and herbs he had carried all the way from Bag End. When all had eaten as much as they could hold, even Scamp, Frodo downed the last tender piece on his plate and leaned back against one of the huge stumps, completely sated.
“That’s the most delicious supper I’ve ever cooked,” he announced proudly.
“Everything was wonderful, Frodo,” Aragorn agreed, and Elladan nodded emphatically.
“Let’s just stay here and set up an inn,” Frodo said.
“The Ranger, Elf, and Hobbit, eh?” Aragorn chuckled. “Do you think we’d get any customers?”
“Absolutely. And it would be The Hobbit, the Elf, and the Ranger, of course.” Frodo smiled dreamily. “Weren’t the mushrooms scrumptious? I saw hundreds growing beneath the trees; there must be whole fields of them nearby. Hobbits would flock here if the roads were better.”
“Perhaps someday they will be,” Elladan said. “Who can say?”
“Come here, you scruffy rascal,” Frodo called. Scamp bounded over from where she was lying in the grass next to Elladan, and Frodo got busy cleaning sand out of the pup’s fur with a small brush.
After the dishes and pans were washed and returned to the shelter, the three friends sat by the large fire they had built. Scamp soon fell asleep in a fold of Aragorn’s cloak, worn out from a satisfying day of digging, exploring, and chasing sticks and squirrels.
After awhile, Elladan began a song. The air seemed exceptionally clear, and the stars seemed brighter than usual to Frodo. Far across the lake, birds peeped and hooted their own night-songs, and he lay back, gazing upwards.
“Isn’t that interesting?" Frodo mused. "The Cup is just above where Estel said the King’s Hallow lies." He pointed to a cluster of stars that seemed balanced atop the highest point of the southern hills.
“We call that the Northern Crown,” Elladan said. “That is fortirië in the High Tongue. You are witness to a rare sight, Frodo; that grouping of stars only sits above the ancient Hallow at this time of year. I can see why your folk call it the Cup; some in other lands call it the Cauldron, or...” He stopped as Frodo leaped to his feet.
“Elladan, those stars look like a cup or cauldron, but also... a bowl!” Frodo cried. “In my dream, the hidden door was under a bowl. Maybe it means that group of stars.” He gasped in excitement. “And they're sitting atop a special place! Estel, didn't you say the Hallow was a sunken meadow? Another bowl? Wait, let me think, the door was under a bowl and behind a star. Hmmm...”
Elladan frowned. “It is unlikely that your dream referred to this meeting of stars and Hallow. We would have to arrive at exactly the right time of year to see it.”
“Why couldn’t we?” Frodo asked. “Didn’t Bilbo and the Dwarves arrive at exactly the right time?”
“Dwarves?”
“Don’t you know the story? Your father told Bilbo that the runes on the map could only be seen with the same type of moon that shone when they were written; and the thrush knocked on Durin’s Day, which just happened to be the day Bilbo and the Dwarves were sitting on the dragon’s doorstep.” Elladan looked completely confused, so Frodo turned to Aragorn, who had neither moved nor spoken. “What do you think?”
“I am intrigued,” Aragorn replied. “There is a very curious stone at the foot of the path leading up to the Hallow; the stars of the fortirië are carved upon it. I do not recall any door nearby, however.”
“It’s a hidden door,” Frodo reminded him.
“Estel, you know we cannot dig up the Hallow, or even set foot upon it,” Elladan said.
“Of course we cannot,” Aragorn assured him. “That stone is worth a look, however. Tomorrow, little one,” he said hastily. Frodo looked ready to run all the way back to the hill at that moment.
“Frodo, Estel...” Elladan said gently, “do not get your hopes too high. Frodo did not dream that he found treasure; only that he wished to do so.”
“I’m already bringing home treasure," Frodo insisted. “Bilbo will be able to add so much to his map once he sees my sketches.” He sat down again, rather reluctantly. “Estel, do you think it’s possible we might really find something?”
“Anything is possible,” Aragorn said with a smile. “But Elladan is right, Frodo. We must confine our search to the hillside itself; the Hallow is off limits.”
“Until the King comes back?”
“Yes,” Aragorn said softly. “Until then.”
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