Written for Elwen’s birthday.

DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

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AND THE STARS WILL SING YOUR NAME

Even in Minas Tirith, there was no map so detailed as the one Elrond and Erestor had spent millenia crafting here in the great library of Imladris.  Frodo had studied it nearly a year ago, before the Fellowship set out -- but the mountains, rivers, and names had meant little to him.  But now...

Frodo sat with Elrond, studying the colorful relief map laid out before him.  “The cross-roads,” the hobbit murmured, his finger coming to rest on one area of the map.  “This is where we turned east to reach Minas Morgul.  We were so close to Minas Tirith, and I knew it.  Two days’ journey, perhaps three, and we could have reached the city.  Food, rest...” He sighed.  “How I longed to take the western road, and see Sam to safety.  I knew, once we turned east, that we would never... that there was no way we would ever...”

Elrond closed his eyes, overwhelmed anew by his admiration for this small creature who had, again and again, chosen a path of little hope and certain death over safety, comfort, a future... how many others would have endured it, and chosen as he had?  Could Aragorn have completed the Quest, if it had come to that?  Could I? he wondered.  And how many others would have had such a companion to walk with him to the Fire?

“You might have brought Sam to safety, Frodo, but he would not have stayed,” Elrond said with a smile.  “He would have followed you, however dark the road, or hopeless the journey.  There was no such division in his heart, no choice to be made.”

“I know.  Without Sam...” Frodo looked up at the Elf Lord, his eyes shining.  “You knew.  It took you months to decide who would accompany me south, but you knew Sam should go, would go.  You knew it when he came to the Council uninvited, didn’t you?”

“I knew from the moment I met him,” Elrond chuckled.  “When Aragorn arrived here at last with Sam, Pippin, and Merry, all four were filthy, exhausted, and weakened by the faint lingerings of the Black Breath from their encounter at the Ford.  We had baths, beds, food prepared...” The Elf Lord smiled, remembering.  “Sam was so tired he barely knew where he was, and could not understand the Elvish swirling above his head -- but he didn’t care.  All he cared about was where you were, and whether or not you were being cared for.  I have rarely seen such single-minded devotion... and certainly never expected it from the quiet Shirefolk.  Bilbo has lived here for many years, but knowing him had not prepared me for what I discovered lay within the heart of his folk.  Sam showed me...”

“I know,” Frodo said simply.  His finger continued tracing the path on the map, eastward... Cirith Ungol... Gorgoroth... the Mountain... “You were there.  Ages ago, you were there, at the Fire.”

“Yes,” Elrond replied, “and now Orodruin is no more.  Perhaps someday the Men of the south will reclaim the Dark Lands, bring to it water, green fields, life... and ‘Mordor’ it will be no longer.  ‘East Ithilien’, perhaps they will name it, or some other fair thing.”

“And all will be forgotten,” Frodo whispered.  “All that we did.”  He sighed.

“Not so,” the Elf Lord reminded him.  “Bilbo -- or you, perhaps -- will write the tale, as will the minstrels and loremasters of the south.  The story will be told from generation to generation, Frodo, and all that you -- and others -- sacrificed will be honored and remembered.”

Frodo smiled and hopped down from the tall stool.  “You remind me that I still have much to tell Bilbo before we start home.  Will you excuse me, my lord?”  He bowed and left the library, leaving the Master of Imladris to his thoughts.

You are woven into the Great Music, Frodo Baggins, Elrond thought, and your deeds will endure even after the memory of Men fade.  The trees will whisper the tale, the land and waters will remember, and the stars will sing your name.

“You look pleased with something,” Glorfindel remarked as he entered the library.

“I am,” Elrond replied.  “The Song is still being revealed to us, Glorfindel, and I rejoice in it.  Can you hear it?”

Glorfindel listened to the Music from the courtyard -- the laughter of hobbits, as Pippin, Sam, and Merry passed below the open window -- and smiled.

END