There a warm welcome was made them, and there
were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their
adventures.
‘The Last Stage’, The Hobbit
Within Elendil’s chamber, the splash of water from roof to basin
was all that could be heard. The silver chest rested once
again in its niche, containing Elladan’s precious shard of ‘star
glass’. From every direction, the images of Annúminas’
first inhabitants peered out from the painted walls.
On the floor, an industrious young hobbit lay on his stomach, surrounded by dozens of sketches. Each sheet was covered with a rendering of a portion of the floor which had been crafted, from squares of colored tile, to show in great detail the layout of Annúminas of old. Light from many torches illuminated the chamber, aiding him in his work.
“Frodo, you’ve been here for hours,” Aragorn said, entering the chamber. “I thank you for your diligence, but you must stop.” After the previous evening’s supper and music, followed by a good night’s sleep, Frodo had awakened that morning eager to return to the chamber and sketch whatever Aragorn wished. “This is our final day here, little one, and I would not have you spend all of it underground. Whatever you have done will be enough, I promise you.”
Frodo nodded, wiping his pen and putting it and the ink back into a small case. He gathered up the sketches and slid them carefully into a small satchel.
“I’ve numbered them,” Frodo said. “If you lay them out in rows, you’ll be able to see what’s on most of the floor.” He smiled happily. “One set of my sketches will help Bilbo enlarge his map, and...” He looked down at the floor. “...one set will help you remember this one.”
“Bilbo will be as grateful as I am,” Aragorn said. He found himself drawn once more to the empty pedestal. He didn’t fully understand what the palantíri had been like, but this spot must surely have been where Elendil gazed into his. What had he seen? How did they work? Could any yet exist?
“What have you been doing?” Frodo asked.
“I have been exploring with Scamp. If there is anything else hidden in this area, we were unable to locate it.”
“If Scamp and a Ranger together can’t find something, it isn’t there,” Frodo said firmly. He stood up and brushed off his dusty clothes. “Estel, will you ever come back here?”
“I certainly plan to do so. Besides my own love for this ancient place, there are certain Rangers who would very much appreciate seeing this room.”
“Like Halbarad and Thalguron?”
“Exactly,” Aragorn said. Dragging his gaze away from the pedestal, he knelt and took Frodo’s right hand in his large one. “Your hand must ache from so many hours of drawing,” he said, gently rubbing the small palm and fingers. “Better?”
“That feels wonderful,” Frodo sighed. “There really is a bit of magic to you, isn’t there?”
“Perhaps a bit,” Aragorn smiled. He got to his feet and began to extinguish the torches. “But do not underestimate yourself, Frodo; it is not I who had the dream that led us here.”
“I wonder why you didn’t?”
“We all have different gifts,” Aragorn said, his eyes twinkling. “You, for example, have the gift of excessive impertinence, while I...”
“...have the gift of excessive scruffiness.” Frodo laughed. “Estel, you’re going to be such a wonderful king.”
“I hope so,” Aragorn said fervently. “Much depends on it.” He started to snuff out the final two torches.
“Wait,” Frodo said suddenly. While there was still a bit of light, he walked over to the painting of Elendil and studied it once more.
“You really look remarkably alike,” Frodo mused. “Will you use this floor-map to rebuild his city to look as it once did?”
“The Dwarves of the Blue Mountains offered to help rebuild Annúminas should Men once again come into their own,” Aragorn told him. “Who can say... perhaps that day will come.”
“Are you ready?” Aragorn reached down and lifted Frodo into his arms. They had agreed that being carried in and out of the long, dusty corridor was more practical for Frodo than constantly tying and untying a damp cloth about his face.
The room was plunged into darkness as the last torch went out, and the sound of water cascading into the basin suddenly seemed louder than before.
Aragorn stepped out of the chamber, turned, and with one booted foot, pushed the massive door firmly shut. He hesitated a moment and whispered something – Frodo caught only the name Elendil – before striding back along the tunnel and out into the sunlight. Elladan was finishing some sketching of his own, making a copy for his father of the carvings on the standing stone. Scamp lay in a patch of cool shade by the stream, and her tail began to wag vigorously when she saw Frodo.
Before they returned to the shelter, Elladan and Aragorn disguised the gap in the curtain of vines and brambles with thin branches and other pieces of foliage. When they were finished, the opening was gone; no one would guess that this section of hillside was different than any other.
“You’ve hidden the entrance perfectly,” Frodo said, admiring the camouflage. “What if years go by before you can return? How will you find it again?”
“I have paced off and memorized the distance to the entrance from each of the carved stones,” Aragorn said. He gazed for a moment at the hillside. “I will remember this place.”
“As will I,” Elladan said. “Elves do not forget.”
As they turned to go, Frodo promised himself to pay more attention to his dreams from now on; this one had brought him a truly magical adventure. They would ride south in the morning, stopping in a few days at the same inn near Oatbarton for good meals, a hot bath, and a bit of rest before proceeding on to Hobbiton.
Thinking about everything that had happened, Frodo found himself suddenly eager to return to the Shire. There was so much to tell Bilbo, he would scarcely know where to begin.
~*~
“So you’re back, Frodo!” The innkeeper hurried forward to greet the smiling lad, his companions, and the tiny pup. “How did you find the lands beyond the Bounds?”
“Very different,” Frodo said, his eyes shining. “It was exciting.”
“Ah, youth,” Mr. Burrows chuckled. He doubted the lad had seen anything more than a bit of fresh scenery, enhanced by the thrill of being Outside. He bowed to the Ranger and Elf, and saw the trio to the same rooms as before.
“Now don’t you be forgetting, your coin is no good here,” Mr. Burrows reminded them.
“That is very kind of you,” Elladan said.
“Folks hereabouts are still talking about your singing.” The innkeeper looked up at Elladan hopefully. “If you’ve a mind to share another bit of song tonight...?”
“Of course,” Elladan agreed, no longer startled at such a direct request. After so many days in Frodo’s company, he now found the straightforward manner of hobbits to be rather charming. Conversation amongst Elves was wont to be less hurried, and more an intricately woven verbal dance; it was very different from the hobbits’ unadorned and more concise speech.
“I’ll have baths drawn, and supper will be ready directly. I suspect we’ll have as good a crowd as last time.” Mr. Burrows bustled off happily to spread the word. This was turning out to be a very good month for The Stonebrook Inn, and no mistake.
~*~
“Mr. Frodo! Mr. Estel!” Sam waved frantically as he spotted the travellers riding into the field, and ran as fast as he could to meet them. Laughing, Aragorn halted Arthad and lowered Frodo to the ground. They had already gone slightly out of their way to return Biscuit to Farmer Cotton’s stables.
Sam, his face shining with excitement, halted a few feet away, but Frodo, heedless of propriety, ran over and pulled his young friend into a hug.
“It’s so good to see you, Mr. Frodo,” Sam beamed. “I got your letter, sir; it was awful kind of you to write. Did you have a good time?”
“It was wonderful,” Frodo said. “I can’t wait to tell you about it.”
“Hullo, Mr. Estel,” Sam said. He tried to greet Elladan as well, but the words stuck in his throat. The idea of a real Elf right in front of him still seemed a dream.
“Is Bilbo home, Sam?” Frodo asked, eager for news. “Has he recovered from his cold?”
“He is, and he has,” Sam grinned. “He’s missed you.”
“I've missed him, and you as well,” Frodo said. “Sam, Elladan and Estel are both leaving in the morning. Could you and your family join us in Bag End after supper this evening?”
“Join you, sir? All of us?”
Frodo nodded.
“All right,” Sam said. He was burning with curiosity, but good manners prevented him from asking more. “And how did Scamp do on the trip?”
“She has been most comfortable,” Elladan said, hopping down lightly from Romaryn. He reached into the sling about his chest and murmured something, at which point a small, golden-brown face with long ears poked over the edge and looked about.
“She’s been so comfortable in that baby-sling, I hope she can sleep without it now,” Frodo said.
“If she can’t, Ma might let you keep it,” Sam said. Elladan handed him the pup, and Scamp licked his face enthusiastically. "Why don't you go on up, Mr. Frodo. I can tell you're dyin' to see Mr. Bilbo."
With a laugh, Frodo dashed up The Hill and burst into Bag End. Bilbo was in the kitchen, and he turned around at the commotion as Frodo ran into the room.
“Frodo, my dear lad,” Bilbo murmured, hugging his boy. “I missed you dreadfully.”
“Oh Bilbo, I missed you, too.” Frodo stepped back and looked at Bilbo, who seemed once again the picture of health. So much had happened, in such a short time, he felt as if he had been away for years.
“Bilbo, Estel told me about himself,” Frodo whispered. “I know about his destiny, and Elendil, and--”
“Goodness me,” Bilbo smiled. “Something very special must have happened on this journey of yours.”
“It will take weeks for me to tell you everything,” Frodo said earnestly, hugging his uncle again. “And I invited the Gamgees over this evening, I hope you don’t mind? Sam never heard Elladan sing, and they’re leaving in the morning, and...” He looked around the kitchen, noticing for the first time the loaves of fresh bread cooling on the counter, and stew simmering in their largest pot. “Bilbo, what magic is this? Did you know we were on our way?”
Bilbo laughed heartily. “I’ll leave the magic to the Elves, my lad. Ted Burrows sent word by the Post that you were nearly home, and I wanted to have a supper prepared. I daresay Estel has been feeding you nothing but roots and twigs, and all manner of sparse fare.”
“Don’t forget the leaves,” the Ranger chuckled, entering the kitchen.
“Aragorn,” Bilbo said gravely, “thank you for looking out for my lad. I hear you’ve had quite the adventure.”
“We certainly have,” Aragorn said. “It is quite amazing what can happen when travelling with hobbits. You should be very proud of this boy, Bilbo.”
”I always have been,” Bilbo said softly.
“Bilbo...” Frodo blushed. But he was spared further embarrassment by Scamp running into the kitchen to greet Bilbo... and to investigate the delicious smells that signalled supper.
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