June 1429 SR (Shire Reckoning)

The party of hobbits rode away from Edoras, waving to the King and Queen as they made their way south. The Queen was visible for a long time in her vivid blue dress, leaning against Eomer's broad chest. They had spent a happy few days at the Golden Hall, eating huge meals and drinking vast amounts of mead. Eomer was constantly amazed at the quantities which the hobbits could put away. He was still ruefully rubbing his head and marvelling at their resiliance. No wonder they had borne up so well during the Ring War, he thought.

       A contingent of knights travelled with them as far as the Mering Stream which marked the border with Gondor. There were few Orcs left now in the wild but as Rosie and baby Pippin were travelling with them it was deemed wise to have an escort. Merry and Pippin were teasing the Captain of the Guard, engaging him in their usual banter.

       "Leave the poor man alone", Sam grumbled good naturedly.

       "Yes, Mr. Mayor, sir!" Pippin cried, bowing exaggeratedly to Sam. Merry chortled at Sam's blush.

       "Don't look like that, Sam. You are the Mayor after all.....................and very Mayoral you look, I must say!"

       Rosie rumaged in her pack. "There's a tea towel in here somewhere," she muttered.

       "Not the tea towel, " cried Pip in mock terror. Rosie was mistress of the art of flicking a tea towel with devastating accuracy. "My ear hasn't recovered from the last time!" He ducked behind his cousin. "Save me, Merry!"

       "Pip, you idiot!" said a laughing voice to Sam's right. The gardener turned and gazed fondly at the fifth member of the party. He still marvelled at the change in his beloved friend and master in the last eighteen months, although it had not been achieved without great suffering. He felt his eyes fill with tears as he remembered those nightmare months when Frodo sank deeper into despair and hovered on the brink of death, but he shook himself quickly. He would not think of it, not now, not here. It was over and done, and Frodo was here with them, riding his pony alongside Sam and laughing at Pippin's antics.

       "Don't let her use the tea towel, Frodo!"

       "It would serve you right if she did. You shouldn't tease poor Sam."

       "Isn't it time for second breakfast? I'm so...oo....ooo hungry!"

       "You're always hungry. Still, I suppose we could stop for a snack, before Pip falls off his pony for want of a morsel!"

        The escort, well-warned about hobbit mealtimes, halted. Everyone dismounted to give the horses and ponies a chance to frisk in the sunshine. Rosie sat comfortably on a flat rock, draped her shawl round her shoulders and discreetly fed the baby.

       "He's living up to his name. Bawls till he's fed and already catching on to second breakfast and elevenses!" Frodo chuckled, kissing Rosie's curls and handing her some sandwiches. She looked up and laughed.

       "He is that. Never known one this greedy! Glad he's still toothless or I'd be in trouble!" She took a mouthful of cool ale. "You're not supposed to be waiting on me, remember?"

       "Why not? You looked after me for long enough, Rosie Gamgee, and now it's your turn. I wonder what the other little ones are up to?"

       "Driving Tom and Marigold to happy distraction, I expect." She grinned impishly at Frodo. "Not to mention Stella and Di. I wonder why they wouldn't come to Gondor? You'd think they'd want to see the world's greatest city."

       Frodo bit into a sandwich and looked thoughtful. "They're typical hobbits, I'm afraid - no sense of adventure. You're most unusual, Rose. Most hobbits, especially hobbit women, never move away from their own village, never mind journey half way across Middle-earth - and with a baby in tow!" He laughed. "I know Diamond is a Took but it's not the adventurous branch of the family. And she and Stella are very close - they'll be quite happy without Merry and Pip for six months."

       "Reckon she and Stel might find life nice and peaceful for six months. They certainly won't have problems with an empty larder, that's for sure!"

        "You are a very wicked girl, Rosie!" Frodo held the ale while she winded the baby. Little Pip obliged with a huge burp, dribbled onto his mother's shoulder and waved a small fist at his uncle, who tutted and wiped the dribble with his handkerchief.

       "Tsk! Messy Pip! Messy, messy!"

       Sam beamed as he watched his two dearest laughing together. He felt light-hearted and joyful, all the worry of two years previously now fallen away. It had been a terrible time watching Frodo sinking, constantly keeping watch, hiding knives, and then nursing him through a deadly illness for weeks. Sam had prayed to anyone and everyone for a miracle, and one had been granted. His dear master had been re-born and his progress had been steady since. Merry followed Sam's gaze and smiled.

       "He's looking well, Sam. Better than I can remember - better than any time since  ................"  His voice tailed off and he looked quite solemn, an unusual thing for Merry.

       "Thank Elbereth! Never thought I'd see him so strong again. There were times when..............." He faltered and choked. Even now there were times when those awful days seemed too close and too real. Merry patted him comfortingly and he recovered himself. "Just .........sometimes those memories hurt like it really happened............... But it didn't, did it? I'm just being silly old Sam again, remembering the worst." He walked over and put his arm round his master's shoulders, fierce affection welling inside him at the sensation of warmth and strength in Frodo's slim frame.

       "What's wrong, Sam?"

       "Nothing, me dear. It's just lovely to see you so happy and well. Are you alright?" He scanned the fine features anxiously for signs of weariness.

       "I'm fine, Sam. Look at this baby - what a little piggy! And he spat curdled milk at me!"

       Sam laughed and lifted the baby to his shoulder. "Naughty! Spitting your mum's good milk all over Uncle Frodo! Disgraceful! Come here and give your poor mum five minutes peace." Pip gurgled, burped again, and dribbled some more over his father's weskit. "Lovely! Now you've got me too! Why don't you do it to Uncle Pippin?"

       "Do what to Uncle Pippin?" asked an aggrieved voice. "You leave my little namesake alone. He just likes his food, sensible lad."

       "Come on," said Frodo, packing up the rest of the food. "We won't reach Minas Tirith for another month if we sit here like this!"

                                                            ***********************

       Their progress towards Minas Tirith was a leisurely one. At the border the Rohan escort was relieved by a large number of Gondorian soldiers and some of the White Company of Ithilien, led by Beregond. He had begged for the honour and Faramir had been more than happy to grant it. Pippin was overjoyed to see his friend again, and they talked non-stop for a long time. Beregond knew Merry well too, but the Ring-bearer and Samwise were more of a mystery. In the weeks after the destruction of the Ring there had been so much going on, and Frodo had been ill, and a little strange, and Sam had been so busy caring for his master that it was difficult to get close to either of them. Now he hoped he would have the chance to spend some time with them. Pippin and Merry spoke of their cousin with such deep affection that he was eager to see the charismatic character they knew. He had heard that Frodo had been near to death and he marvelled at the resiliance of this small hobbit, who looked more like an Elf. There were tiny flecks of grey in Frodo's dark curls now, but he was no longer hunched and frail, his cheeks had a little colour and he laughed a great deal.

       "Master Baggins, may I ride with you and Samwise?"

       "Of course, it would be a pleasure. And please call me Frodo. No need for such formality, I'm sure."

       "Frodo, then. This is your first visit to Minas Tirith in ten years? You will see many changes. The lower levels have been re-built and the great gates have been replaced, thanks to Master Gimli and his friends. The White Tree flourishes in the palace courtyard and flowers bloom everywhere - thanks largely to your good friend Legolas. The city looks like a huge flower bed in summer."

       "Good! Flowers are the best thing to beautify anywhere," said Sam approvingly. "How is Faramir?"

       "Yes, how is he? And Eowyn and the children?" Frodo added.

       "They bloom like Ithilien itself. The children grow rapidly - little Elboron is almost nine, although he is known to everyone as Boromir, Finduilas is four, and the new baby is much of an age with little Pip there. Eowyn is lovely and brings my lord greater happiness with every passing day."

       "What of the King and Queen?"

       "The King is so excited by your visit he can hardly contain himself! He has been planning and fussing and driving my lord and the Queen mad for months!" Beregond laughed. "Their little ones grow apace too. Eldarion is seven, Gilraen three and their new baby is the same age as Faramir's. No doubt all the ladies will be comparing offspring and passing the babies around for inspection!"

       "Faramir and the King will need to work a little harder to bring the numbers up to Sam's family!" Frodo chuckled, as Sam blushed. "Little Pip is the fifth member of the family, although we have left the others behind this time, for which Gondor should be grateful, eh, Sam?"

       Sam laughed. "Aye. Little Ellie would terrify any number of soldiers and they could wreak more havoc than the siege caused. Be thankful, or the White Tower might not still be standing at the end of our visit!"

       There had been much pouting and sulking when the children found out they were not to go to Gondor. Elanor stamped and cried and tried all her pretty tricks to persuade them to take her, but all three adults were firm. The King would be coming north soon and they would all meet him then. The journey to Minas Tirith was too long and arduous for very small children, so they must stay and help Aunt Mari, Uncle Tom and Aunts Stella and Di. Frodo-lad, as placid as his father, was philosophical, and Merry too young to care,but the two girls were very indignant. They did their best to work on Uncle Frodo but, to their disgust, he was in league with their parents.

       "Elanor. What a pretty name, Sam," said Beregond. "I've heard Legolas mention it."

       "Aye, she's named for the little golden star-flower of Lothlorien. Frodo's idea. I was too excited and couldn't think what to call her but I asked and as soon as he said it I knew it was just right. She's tiny and golden and sparkly, isn't she, lass?" he said to Rosie.

       "And the apple of her dad's eye - not that you'd realised that," she grinned. "Yes, she's a pretty child, although I try not to tell her too often because I wouldn't like her to grow into a conceited little madam."

       "She takes after her mum, thankfully," said Sam with a smile. Frodo cuffed him lightly.

       "She takes after you too, you silly hobbit!" He turned to Beregond. "She has the best of both of them - they all do! My namesake is a charming lad, as placid as his dad and always smiling. They all look after me so well, even the little ones, and Ellie fusses over me like an old gammer. I really am a most spoilt hobbit." His blue eyes sparkled as he gazed at Rosie and Sam, and Rosie blinked away a tear.

        Beregond smiled broadly. "No more than you deserve, I'm sure, Frodo. You inspire affection in everyone who meets you. The King can hardly contain his excitement at your impending arrival and my lord Faramir is practically bouncing at the prospect of seeing you again! Few people can inspire such feelings."

       "Quite right, my lord," said Rosie, laughing now at Frodo's expression. He was looking somewhat nonplussed. "Been telling him that for years but the stubborn hobbit thinks I'm joking."

       "Well...............er......................in that case I suppose I'd better start believing you, Rose."

       "You do that. Just because you're Frodo Baggins doesn't mean you're necessarily safe from the dreaded tea towel, you know!"

                                                       **********************

         Progress continued down the West Road. Frodo felt incredibly safe on this journey, surrounded by Gondorian soldiers. Although there were still some orcs in the countryside, they were few and far between these days. The armies of Rohan and Gondor were merciless in their pursuit of the creatures and there were few places in which they could find refuge. The countryside lay undisturbed on either side of the roadway and the drums of the Wild Men were silent in the Forest of Druadan as the trees slumbered in the summer heat haze. In the distance the sky above the looming Ephel Duath was blue and clear.

        Frodo was determined not to avoid looking towards Mordor. It was virtually impossible to be in Minas Tirith and not look at Mordor, after all, and trying to do so seemed silly. The great swags of cloud which had lowered over the Black Land were gone. Beregond had been into the Plain of Gorgoroth several times and said that flowers were beginning to take root in the pumice and volcanic rock. Sam had been unsurprised; Nature found a way in any environment eventually, and it was pleasant to think of that tainted land being covered with green leaves and little wild flowers. The Towers of Minas Morgul and Cirith Ungol had been thrown down as the King commanded, and the Dark Lord's fortress had fallen when Mount Doom exploded. The top two thirds of the mountain were no more, and nothing had been heard from it since.

       They were here to celebrate Ring-Day, or Cormare, as it was known in Gondor, and this public holiday took place on Frodo's birthday, September 22nd. It seemed strange to think of his birthday being celebrated in a far-away land, and Frodo was more than slightly abashed by the fuss, but Aragorn had begged them to come. In the end Frodo did not have the heart to turn him down, and as their journey progressed he found himself increasingly looking forward to it.He longed to see Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, Eowyn and Beregond again, and Legolas and Gimli would also be there, not to mention Lord Elrond's sons Elladan and Elrohir. He had grown fond of the twins during their time in Rivendell, and they had treated him very graciously. He was sorry he would not see Lord Elrond again, for he had sailed to the West with Galadriel and dear Bilbo, and Gandalf. He really wished that Gandalf could be here now, but he was sure the wise and kindly friend knew of their journey and would be with them in spirit. Gandalf, who had turned out to be so much more than an old man who did tricks with fire; one of the immortals sent by the Valar to assist Middle-earth in its darkest time. With the destruction of the Ring, Gandalf's task was accomplished and his time in Middle-earth was over. Frodo sighed. He missed the old wizard more than he had thought possible. He brightened again at the prospect of the joyful reunion ahead, and urged his pony forward to catch up with the rest of the party.

        Rosie was fascinated by everything. She had never been further than Michel Delving in her life before this journey, and here she was, gazing at the towering slopes of Mount Mindolluin as they passed the Grey Wood on the right, the road turning gently to wind round the base of this, the greatest city in Middle Earth. Rosie had heard so much about Minas Tirith and seen pictures in Frodo's books, but nothing prepared her for her first sight of the White City. She halted her pony and let her gaze linger over the seven levels. Above even the highest level the Tower of Ecthelion rose to pierce the sky, the banners of the White Tree flapping and dancing against the azure blue.

        "Oh my word, Rosie Gamgee! You're really here!" she murmured to herself.

       "And so am I," Frodo added. "And I don't believe it either!" He grinned at Rosie. "Thanks to you and Sam............."

       "Now, now, trying to make me go all soppy! It won't work, you daft thing!" she said, but her eyes told a different story.

      They arrived at the Great Gates and paused to admire the beautiful workmanship of the gleaming mithril. A party of dwarves were working on a large stone pillar near the gate, their voices a low rumble. Suddenly a roar rang out.

       "Frodo Baggins! By all that's wonderful!"

       Casements opened as curious residents peered out to see what was happening. The name Baggins triggered lots of excited murmuring, causing Frodo some embarrassment, but this was swept away as he saw the owner of the voice.

       "Gimli!"

       "A running dwarf! Now that's something you don't see very often," Merry chuckled.

       Frodo was pulled from his pony and clasped in a tight hug by the stocky dwarf.

       "Ooof! Gimli, I do need to breathe, you know!" he laughed, trying to return the hug and being almost suffocated by the bristling beard.

       "My dear, dear hobbit! I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see you again." He held Frodo at arm's length to study him, then pulled him close for another massive hug.

       "Be careful with him, Master Dwarf," Rosie chided. "We don't want crushed ribs, do we?"

       Gimli helped her down and kissed her hand with a flourish which made her blush and smack him playfully over the head.

       "Every time I meet you, my lady Rose, my head rings. It must be love!" he declared.

       "Fool of a dwarf!" said Pippin, giggling. He rushed to embrace his friend, and soon Gimli was covered with laughing hobbits. When he finally surfaced, he looked around and tutted under his breath in mock vexation.

       "Where's that wretched pointy-ear? Never around when he's needed, typical Elf-Prince!" He took a deep breath. "Legolas! Legolas!"

       A few moments later the blond Prince of Mirkwood appeared, dressed in soft green and grey. He cried out joyfully when he saw the hobbits surrounding Gimli, and rushed over to embrace them all.

       "My dear friends! Oh! it is wonderful to have you all here. The Fellowship almost all reunited!" He knelt and enfolded them all, Gimli included, and the dwarf did not protest.

       Eventually Arod was found and Legolas helped the hobbits onto their ponies. He leapt up on Arod and Gimli struggled up behind with much grumbling for the journey up towards the Citadel.

       The gates on the other levels were not directly above the Great Gates but to the north or south, and the path wound ever upwards. As they rode, people peered out and recognised them, and the murmur grew. Then the trumpets rang out from the top of the Tower, to announce their arrival to everyone.

      "The Pheriannath! They have come! The Ring-bearer is here!"

       "Shall I put my cloak over my head?" Frodo enquired, blushing at the attention. He had sometimes felt ignored in the Shire, but all this adulation was rather disconcerting. "Pip, can't you do something ridiculous and distract them?"

       "Why me?" Pippin spluttered, glancing at the others.

       "Well you usually manage to!" Frodo retorted, and the party fell about in amusement at Pippin's expression.

       The baby woke at this point, and wailed fretfully. Rosie laughed as she lifted him a little and gave him a finger to suck.

       "See - my namesake has done the job for me, although how you think he'll fall for the finger trick I don't know!"

       "When you have as many children as me, Peregrin Took, you'll find out!" Rosie snorted. Pippin stuck his tongue out at her and she whipped out the tea towel and flicked it lightly in his direction with a triumphant air.

       "Ow! She's picking on me again, Frodo!

       "Never question a woman's maternal abilities, silly Took! I have no sympathy with you!"

       Pip stuck his nose in the air. "Hmmph! there's gratitude, Frodo Baggins! I gave you half a case of Old Winyard's on my last birthday and you still aren't moved to defend me from the evil mistress of the tea towel!" He pouted pathetically at Merry. "You'll help me, won't you, Merry?"

       Sam shrugged helplessly at Legolas and gave him a sheepish grin. "They do this all the time. I just try and ignore 'em. Rosie's the stern disciplinarian in the family so I let her deal with Pippin."

       "She's very good at it!" said the Elf admiringly. It was a joyful thing to see them all in such a relaxed mood. He had visited the Shire several times, and he and Gimli were there during the darkest hours of Frodo's illness, supporting their friends and helping to nurse the dying Ring-bearer. They had all been too tense and fraught to joke and laugh with each other. To see them so happy and teasing warmed his heart and he began to sing. Gimli harrumphed behind him.

       "Now you've done it! The Elf has decided to sing! I swear he only has one song, and I've heard it that many times I know all the blasted words!"

       Legolas laughed and took the joke in good part. "Why, Gimli," he said, half turning in the saddle and batting his eyelashes at his friend, "I thought you liked my singing!"

       "I like it better when I've a mug of ale in my hand."

       "Ale renders you deaf?" enquired Merry. "Now I find my sight is affected if I drink too much, but not my hearing."

       Pippin smirked. "It is when someone tells you it's your round!"

       "Rosie!" Merry called. "Can I borrow that tea towel?"

                                                         *********************

       In the King's apartments, Aragorn was trying to do fifteen different things at once. When he heard the trumpets he jumped up and made for the door but was called back instantly.

       "Estel! You are not going to meet our guests barefoot! Really! Must I keep reminding you, it's hobbits who go about unshod, not kings of Gondor!" Arwen clicked her tongue and hauled her husband back to his chair, kissing him lightly on the nose as she did so. His servant, trying hard not to laugh, helped him on with his boots, and the King grinned boyishly at his beloved wife.

       "I'm sorry, my love. I'm just so eager to see them all again......................especially dear Frodo............... ....when those letters arrived from Sam and Pippin to say he was dying........................I...............feared I would never see him again.........." He blinked furiously. "He has suffered so much in the years since we last met, and it seems so unfair. Such an innocent little creature when I first saw him." He swallowed the lump which rose in his throat.

       Arwen kissed her husband gently. "And now he is well, and here with us for this special celebration! It is a time for joy, Estel my dear, not for mourning." He squeezed her hand in gratitude and kissed her fingers gently.

       "Papa! Papa! The trumpets have sounded! They're here! They're here!" The peaceful interlude was broken by little Eldarion rushing in, beside himself with excitement. He knew Merry and Pippin but he was going to meet his heroes Frodo and Samwise, and he was hopping from foot to foot in impatience.

       Aragorn laughed. "You are as bad as me. It will take some time for them to arrive here in the Citadel. Is your sister ready?"

       "Eldarion! Your hair looks like a bird's nest!" said his mother reprovingly. "Back to your nurse! We are not moving until your hair is neatly brushed."

       The child wriggled in exasperation but knew better than to disobey his mother. He ran back to the nursery, muttering that he doubted the Ring-bearer bothered about hair brushing on the way to Mount Doom.

       "Those were exceptional circumstances!" Aragorn called after him. "I'm sure Frodo has brushed his hair today - foot hair included!"

       Arwen giggled. "Do hobbits really brush their foot hair?"

       "Of course they do, my love. Bilbo had a set of little brushes designed for the job, and I'm sure Frodo does too."

       Eldarion charged back into the room with his little sister in tow. She was a model of tidiness and decorum next to her brother, and was even attempting to pick fluff from his sleeve. When Arwen was satisfied with her family's appearance they filed into the corridor, where they were joined by Faramir, Eowyn, little Boromir and Finduilas. Eowyn was still making adjustments to her menfolk, and rolled her eyes conspiratorially at the Queen.

       "Strange how it is never the girls who need tidying," she murmured. "They have no doubt been primping for hours. I've already confiscated two pet mice from Boromir's pocket and now...........," she rummaged in another pocket while her son squirmed, ".............ahah! What do we have here? A frog! Really, Bobo, must you always run around with your pockets full of little creatures?" She deposited the frog in her son's hand. "Go and release the poor thing where you found it. Now!" she added as he opened his mouth to protest.

       Boromir ran off, grumbling that other mothers were afraid of such things and did not attempt to search their children for fear of what they might find.

       On the steps they gathered in an orderly group. This was not an official reception for dignitaries but a reunion of devoted friends. Aragorn looked around and smiled contentedly at his nearest and dearest. Arwen, lovely as always in a robe of rich crimson, Eowyn in green. The children were strong and healthy, his own dark haired while Faramir's had their parents' rich red-gold tresses. His eyes met Faramir's and both men grinned at their shared thought: I can't believe they are mine.

                                                            *****************

       At the gate into the seventh level they dismounted; not even Shadowfax had been allowed into the Citadel. The ponies and Arod were led off to the splendid stables, where they found as much luxury and comfort as their riders. The hobbits gazed around, awed by their surroundings. As they entered, the trumpets rang out once more, and they found themselves in the courtyard. The fountains splashed and showered sparkling water drops into the air, over the lower branches of the White Tree, which was now a towering beauty. It flourished as the realm had flourished, its pale leaves and white blossoms reminder of Telperion, one of the Two Trees of Valinor. It was dizzying to look up and try to see the top of the White Tower from here, at its base. The musical sound of falling water droplets filled the air.

       "My beloved friends!" cried the King, unable to contain himself any longer. He ran down the steps and caught Frodo up in his arms. "I told you once before - you bow to no-one, my dear Frodo," he said, and Frodo found himself in a bear-hug of royal proportions.

       "Your majesty.............,," he began but Aragorn cut him short.

       "Use my name, I beg you. No formality among friends."

       "Aragorn...................it is so good to see you again." He flung his arms round the King's neck and hugged him back until they were both quite breathless. When he was finally released Faramir swept him up and both men stood with their arms around the hobbit, too overwhelmed to speak for several minutes. Neither man had ever thought to see Frodo Baggins in Middle-earth again; they had been sure he would depart to the West with Bilbo and Gandalf, and when he remained they knew he was too weak and damaged to travel. The news of his illness had filled them both with grief, which was only equalled by their joy and relief at the news of his remarkable recovery.

       The others had also broken ranks and everyone was hugging everyone else. Rosie was proudly introduced by Sam and was surprised to find herself embraced by the King of Gondor while she was attempting to curtsey. He peeped at the baby in her arms and called the two women forward to admire him. Neither had ever seen a hobbit baby and both had been intrigued about them. Eowyn tickled the furry feet and baby Pip rewarded her with a gummy smile.

       "He's adorable! Oh what a sweet little thing!

       The children were suddenly overcome with shyness and even the boys had to be pushed forward for introduction. Frodo was quite mortified to find the young heir to the throne of Gondor kneeling to him. He raised the child hastily and they studied each other. Eldarion had been told that the Ring-bearer was small and fragile due to the damage of the Ring. He knew Merry and Pippin and had been told that they were more typical of hobbits in builld, although they were much taller.

       Frodo saw a tall lad with dark hair and his father's grey eyes. Even at such a young age he had a gravity which was almost eerie. There was not much difference in their height, and the young prince gazed earnestly at the hobbit, their hands still clasped. Young Boromir joined them, and Frodo was deeply moved at the sight of these two boys. Boromir was, so he had heard, a mischievous child but he was reigning in his natural impetuousness and obviously on his best behaviour. He was able to look Frodo in the eye; in six months he would be taller. Frodo looked into his eyes and was thankful that he favoured his father, not his uncle in character.

       "Well?" said Frodo, smiling. "Do I pass the inspection?"

       The two boys glanced at each other and nodded. They held out their hands to Sam, who looked a jolly sort. Sam came forward and suddenly the boys broke the formal pose and embraced the two hobbits with genuine affection. The little girls were eager to join in and soon Frodo and Sam were covered in giggling children.

       "Quite the home from home, eh Sam?"

       "I guess children are much the same , whether they be princes or hobbits!"

       "Come!" cried the King. "Inside, my friends, where we can eat and talk and sit in comfort!"

       "Ahah!" cried Pippin. "Did someone mention food?"

                                                  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The hobbits were ushered to their rooms in the palace. A whole suite of rooms had been adapted for them, with everything just the right size. Rosie was enchanted by everything and Sam watched fondly as she opened closets and examined the bathroom. Each bedroom had an adjoining bathroom; she could not believe the luxury. She had always thought of Bag End as the height of splendour but this was overwhelming.

       "What do you think, Rose?" Sam asked anxiously.

       "I can hardly believe it! All this for us! Oh Sam, it's wonderful!" She threw her arms round him and kissed him soundly. Then she looked round and added, "One thing I don't think I'll ever get used to though."

       "And what is that, I wonder?" Frodo enquired, peering round the door. He looked around admiringly. "Mmm! Quite the honeymoon suite!"

       "You be careful, Frodo Baggins," Rosie laughed. "You're not too old for a rap over the knuckles!"

       "You're supposed to be kind to a poor old gentlehobbit," he grinned. "But that still doesn't answer my question."

       "Having people doing everything for me, that's what! All the clothes unpacked and put away, water prepared, beds made. What am I going to do with all this extra time? Even the baby's in the nursery and being looked after by about three nursemaids!"

       "You're here to enjoy yourself, rest, indulge and do nothing!" said Frodo firmly. "Now I don't know about you, but I'm extremely hungry, and if we don't reach the tea table soon, Pippin and Merry will have scoffed the lot!"

                                                              ******************

       Pippin's eyes were almost popping out as he surveyed the tea table. There were at least a dozen different kinds of sandwiches, mushroom tartlets, cheese and onion tartlets, biscuits and six large silver cakestands groaning with cream-filled goodies.

       "Oooooh my!" he breathed. There had never been a food shortage on his previous visits but the royal chefs had excelled themselves this time. He sat down, looking slightly dazed. Not even the lack of sausages upset him; there was so much else.

       Merry leaned back and sighed with pleasure. This was perfect. Life did not get any better than this.

       Frodo was seated between Aragorn and Faramir, and he was asking about the improvements in the city and the transformation of Ithilien with the coming of the Elves. On Aragorn's other side, Sam was telling Arwen about the re-planting of the Shire and his work as Mayor, while Rosie chatted happily to the Queen and Eowyn about the children and what she thought of her journey through Rohan and Gondor. It was the excited chatter of friends. An instant rapport had sprung between Rosie and the other two women. She had feared she would have nothing to say and be tongue-tied in conversation but was suprised to find that they had much in common. She was a sensible, down-to-earth girl and was relieved to find that both Arwen and Eowyn were the same. Soon they were laughing and discussing the foibles of their menfolk, which were many and varied.

       When even Pippin declared he could not eat another scrap, they went to their rooms to rest and prepare for dinner. Aragorn told them this was to be an informal dinner, not a banquet, although he hastened to reassure Pippin that he would certainly not be disappointed with the amount of food. Frodo undressed and lay down for a while, pleasantly sleepy and full. He drifted off to sleep with the sound of a splashing fountain in his ears.

       Everyone had a nap, as it was likely to be a long and boisterous evening. Rosie ventured to the nursery and fed a drowsy baby who was already bathed and prepared for bed. Arwen and Eowyn arrived to do likewise, and were soon showing off their pretty baby girls to Rosie and taking turns to hold Pip-lad. Eowyn disapproved of wet nurses and Arwen had been impressed by this and followed suit when Eldarion was born. The King made no protest, much to the surprise of the midwives, who forgot that he had spent years among ordinary people who fed their own babies as a matter of course.

        "I cannot believe how well Frodo looks now," Arwen said. "He says nothing about his illness but it must have been terrifying for you and Sam and his family."

       Rosie nodded. "Sam still can't bear to talk much about it, and Frodo remembers little of it. Just as well, really. It's a long story but I'll tell you later, after dinner while they're all getting drunk and telling silly jokes."

       Eowyn laughed. "I can see you're under no illusions about what men get up to once we've left the table!"

       "Daft lot!" Rosie said with a smile. "Like a lot of big children really, getting up to naughty games behind 'Mum's' back!"

        In their room, Rosie undressed and took a bath before dressing for dinner. Arwen had stressed that it was an informal gathering, so she chose a pretty but fairly ordinary dress. Sam and Frodo were already dressed, in shirtsleeves and weskits, and they joked about being kept waiting by a woman. When they spotted a certain gleam in Rosie's eye they darted outside and stood in the passage, laughing like children..

       "Very funny, I'm sure," she said when she emerged. "I can wait. I'll get you when you're not expecting it!" She took a proffered arm from each of them, and together they walked to the private apartments of King Elessar and his Queen.

       Aragorn was barefoot, as usual, and smiling as they entered. The children had been allowed to stay up for a while, and ran to them at once to almost drag them to the comfortable couches. Young Boromir proudly produced his pet mice, to Eowyn's mortification, and almost exploded with pride when Frodo held them.

       "I used to have pet mice when I was your age. They're great fun, aren't they?" He stroked the little creatures as they ran along his sleeve and perched on his shoulder. Faramir laughed at his wife's expression.

        "Don't be too angry with him, my love. He is so fond of them and look at him! He is thrilled that Frodo is taking an interest." He smiled beguilingly at Eowyn and she softened.

       "I can hardly be very cross with him - he's just like you. When I look at him I see you at the same age." She stroked Faramir's cheek and he kissed her quickly. "Frodo! I hope Boromir isn't being a nuisance or tiring you?"

       "Certainly not. It's nice to be surrounded by children again. I've missed it since we left the Shire." He crouched to talk to Finduilas and Gilraen, and put an arm round the two boys to draw them in too. The boys tried not to stare at the right hand with its missing finger, although they both knew the story by heart. Frodo caught them trying not to look, and grinned. He held his hand out and said, "I don't mind you looking, you know. You won't offend me, and it isn't every day that you meet someone with a missing finger!"

       Finduilas looked concerned. "Does it hurt?" she asked, thinking how much a graze hurt when she scraped herself.

       "No, not now. It did for a long while afterwards, but not any more." He ruffled her reddish hair. "Anyway, a finger was a small price to pay for the whole of Middle-earth, so it was worth it."

       Sam almost choked and had to look out of the window for a moment while he composed himself. He was surprised to find Aragorn doing the same, and they shared a quick, slightly tearful smile.

       "If only the price had been that small," Sam whispered. Aragorn nodded, only too aware that Frodo had almost paid the ultimate price, not just at Mount Doom but many times since, with his life and sanity at breaking point.

       Legolas and Gimli arrived, together with Merry and Pippin.The lilting cadences of the Elf and the gruff tones of the dwarf mingled in a surprising harmony. Legolas laughed more whenever Gimli was around, and the dwarf seemed more appreciative of the beauties of nature. It was good to see them happy in each other's company.

       Eldarion sat next to Frodo and talked earnestly about his studies. He was determined to be as great a king as his father,and was conscious of his duties as host. He could read and speak Elvish as fluently as Westron, and was startled when Frodo spoke to him in Sindarin.

       "My cousin Bilbo taught me Elvish. I can read and speak Sindarin quite well, but I'm afraid my Quenya is a little rusty. Perhaps you'll help me to remember it while I'm here?"

        The child's face broke into a beaming smile. "It would be the greatest honour, sir," he replied. Frodo was touched by the boy's solemnity.

       "And I don't think you need to call me sir. Your father is one of my dearest friends and I hope you will call me Frodo."

       Eldarion looked shocked. "Just a name would not be respectful," he said, although he was happy Frodo had said it.

       "Then what about Uncle Frodo? That is what Sam and Rosie's children call me, after all."

       "Oh yes!...................that is, may I, Papa, please?" He turned to his father, who laughed delightedly.

       "Of course you may, my boy. If Frodo says so, then I am more than happy for you to do so."

       A chorus erupted. "Can we call you Uncle too?!" Gilraen scrambled up onto Frodo's lap and kissed him.

       "I think that's a lovely idea. And I daresay Sam and Rosie would be happy to be Uncle and Aunt too, if you'd like?" He glanced at his friends for confirmation. Rosie looked stunned.

       "Fancy me being called 'Aunt' by princes and princesses!" she murmured. "Ordinary Rosie Gamgee from the Shire!"

       The King snorted and laughed. "Rosie, you have never been ordinary! You enslaved poor Sam here, you run a household, look after your children, travel halfway accross Middle Earth and you've managed to have Frodo looking as healthy as I've ever seen him! Hardly the actions of an 'ordinary' hobbit!" He beamed at her blush. "You are thoroughly extraordinary, and had I not already given my heart to my Arwen I would be extremely jealous of Sam!"

       Rosie smiled. "Well, you're a flatterer and no mistake! If I thought you were teasing........ I'd........" She faltered at Aragorn's expression of terror.

       "Not that! Please.................not the................tea towel!" he cried in mock horror. Rosie threw up her hands and glared at Pippin.

       "What have you been telling him?" she demanded, laughing now.

       Pippin grinned. "Nothing - except that you are not to be crossed, on pain of a flicked ear." He ducked, just in case. "We should have had Rosie on the battlefield. The armies of the Dark Lord would have fled before her!"

        The children were allowed to eat their supper with the company. As they took their seats, the doors opened and in came Elladan and Elrohir, Arwen's brothers. More ecstatic reunions took place and another couch was pushed forward. The twins had come from Rivendell, and they had brought another surprise guest with them. A few moments later their travelling companion entered, tall and silver haired, young and old at the same time, as only a great Elf-lord could be.

       "Lord Celeborn! My lord, this is a great honour!" said Aragorn, leaping up. He had hoped Celeborn would come, but the great lord seldom travelled these days. His grief at the departure of his lady had affected him, and he often sought the company of the twins at Rivendell, since they could understand his pain.

        Celeborn smiled. "I could hardly miss such a momentous reunion, could I? Elessar, it is a pleasure to see you again. Arwen, my beloved child!" He embraced his grand-daughter and exclaimed over the size of his great grand-children, who ran to him and drew him into the circle.

        "Anadar!" Arwen held him close and tried not to weep. With her father, mother and grandmother gone to Valinor, she treasured her remaining family all the more. Her brothers were freqent visitors but Celeborn's company was a rarity and all the more cherished for being so.

       Gimli grinned at Legolas. "Well, Master Elf, this day grows more perfect with every passing moment!"

       "It does indeed," Legolas agreed.

       The King overheard, and smiled. "The day is not over yet, my good Gimli," he said, as two of the servants entered with barrels. "I have some of Barliman's best beer for us!"

       Merry howled with laughter. "The cunning old so-and-so! I thought his "By Appointment" sign was just to impress travellers! Well, well!"

       Celeborn embraced the hobbits warmly. He was aware of some of Frodo's suffering and its resolution, and smiled to himself. He would talk to Frodo another day. This was a night for fun and happy memories. Then he turned to the others.

       "Legolas, it is good to see you again. I saw your father six months ago - he is well. The greenwood is looking as beautiful as ever, and I am looking forward to seeing the transformation of the city and the results of your labours in Ithilien. Good Master dwarf, the stonework in this city is superb! True craftsmanship. You must be very proud."

       Gimli glowed but mumbled shyly that everyone had worked hard. The Elves had planted as fast as the dwarves had built, and the effect was of cascading fountains and waterfalls of flowers over the walls of all the city's levels. He gave as much credit to the Elves as the dwarves, and Celeborn thought how pleased Galadriel would be to know that the two races were getting along so well.

       They all took their seats as the servants brought in the first course. Wine was poured and Aragorn stood.

       "I should like to propose a toast. To us all, to friendship, and to those friends absent from our lives but not our hearts!"

       The children ate their supper and then reluctantly bade the company "good-night" as it was long past their bedtime. By the time they had been all round the company, and the little girls had darted back for another round of kisses, another half hour had sped by. At last Arwen and Eowyn had to chase them from the room.

       "Off you go! Our friends will be here for many weeks. You can talk with them again tomorrow." The Queen shooed them out into the arms of their waiting nurses, and closed the door, laughing. "They really are impossible! Do you have the same problem, Rose?"

       "I think we know all the excuses now, don't we boys?" she addressed Sam and Frodo, who nodded and laughed.

       "They've forgotten a favourite toy, they need a drink, they have a tummy-ache/toothache/feel sick, didn't kiss someone properly the first time - that's just a few of them." Frodo ticked them off on his fingers.

       Sam took up the list. "Then there's all the reasons to come back - forgot the water, heard a noise, had a nightmare, there's a monster under the bed, they've developed earache, someone else won't put the candle out, there's been a fight.......... Takes two hours some nights, doesn't it, love?"

       "Does when you two are in charge," Rosie said tartly. "You're too soft with them. They don't try all that with me any more."

       "Rosie is much more strict than we are," Sam said sheepishly.

       "True. We're utterly hopeless, I'm afraid," chuckled Frodo. "Nothing would ever get done if it was left to us. Isn't that true, Rose-blossom?"

       " 'Course it's true!" she retorted, though her eyes sparkled with affection. "Pair of useless lummocks!" She put an arm round each of them and gave them a hug. "I'm sure they must be good for something, though what that is we haven't found out yet!"

       The King laughed. "I was just thinking you'd found out what Sam was good for!"

       Rosie did not miss a beat. "Well, there is the gardening, I'll give him that!" she said, giggling at the expression on her husband's face. The rest of the company joined in and Sam, blushing slightly, took the joke in good part.

       "Charming!" he said, pretending to grumble, and she sweetened the teasing with a kiss. "Now this...." he added, "..........I am good at!" He ducked as she pretended to smack him lightly.

       Dinner continued with much laughter and conversation. Celeborn had thought he would retire after dinner but he found he was enjoying himself too much to contemplate leaving this merry company. Arwen was pleased to see him so light-hearted, as he shared the wine with Legolas and the twins, his grey eyes twinkling with a happiness he had not felt for many years. It was impossible to be miserable in the presence of happy hobbits.

       Aragorn exclaimed over the length of Frodo's fingernails. "I can hardly believe it! The first time I met him, in the 'Pony' in Bree, I thought I'd never seen nails in such a state - bitten to the quick! Now look at these! What brought this about?"

       Frodo blushed and grinned ruefully. "Rosie, I'm afraid. She told me they were a disgrace and yelled at me whenever she saw me nibbling. Said I was as bad as the children."

       "Have you always bitten your nails, Frodo?" Eowyn asked.

       "Yes, my mother used to stop me, but after my parents died no-one bothered, and I was naturally unhappy so I did it all the more, until it became a habit. Esmeralda sometimes said she'd paint my nails with something bitter, but she didn't have the heart to."

       "I did though," said Rosie with a little smile. "He wouldn't stop biting so I painted all his nails with bitter almonds."

       "And very nearly poisoned me!" he said indignantly. I forgot and chewed while the stuff was on them - I was really ill. I was convinced she'd poisoned me!"

       "So was I," said Sam. "I gave her a bit of a telling off for that - not that it made any difference!"

       Rosie scoffed. "Poisoned indeed! You were sick, that's all! Shouldn't have bitten them, should you?" she teased.

       "Well, I learned my lesson, I can tell you! And I have to admit it worked. I'm rather pleased with them now."

       When no-one had room for one more morsel, the table was cleared and the three ladies rose.

       "We shall leave you to your pipes and ale and naughty songs," said Eowyn with a smile. She leaned over Faramir's chair as she passed behind him, and kissed him lovingly. "The Queen and Rosie and I are going to retire and gossip about you all!"

       "I daresay those babies will all want feeding again before bed anyway," Rosie added. She kissed Sam and Frodo. "Be good, you two. Don't want to hear you've been locked up in one of the King's dungeons for scandalous behaviour!"

       Pippin harrumphed. "I see! You don't care if we're locked up, you hard hearted wench!"

       "Tell you two to be good? That's a laugh and no mistake! You don't know how, Peregrin Took!"

       Merry gave a loud sob. "She just doesn't love us any more, Pip! It's so unfair!"

       "Pair of silly fools," she said fondly, and bade everyone good-night before departing for the Queen's apartments nearby.

                                                               ******************

        Arwen's apartments were spacious and furnished in Elven style. A smaller chair had been placed between two larger ones, especially for Rosie, who was very touched at the thoughtfulness of the royal couple. A small table was set with a flagon of wine and three glasses, and there were several dishes of fruit and sweetmeats. The effect was warm and welcoming. The three women talked of their children, comparing notes on development and behaviour, and they discussed the pleasures and difficulties of life, and the foolishness of their menfolk.

       The high wail of a hungry baby was soon taken up by two more, and three nurses entered, carrying three very noisy bundles. Rosie shrugged and decided that there should be no embarrassment between three experienced mothers. She unfastened her bodice and Pip-lad was soon quietly engrossed in feeding. Arwen and Eowyn followed suit and the room was calm once more, with only the soft sucking of the babies and the muted murmur of conversation filling the tranquil evening.

       At last the babies were satisfied and sleepy and were handed over to the nursemaids once more. Rosie settled back in her chair, sipped at the delicate Elvish wine and nibbled an orange segment. The fruit were a favoutite of Frodo's, and when he had been recovering from his long illness Aragorn sent boxes of them to the Shire.

       "So what did happen to Frodo when he was ill?" Arwen asked. "Aragorn really wants to know but he doesn't like to make Frodo talk about it."

       "Yes, " said Eowyn. "I think we'd all like to know - if you don't mind talking about it, that is?"

       Rose smiled. "Bless you, why should I mind? It was hard and terrible at the time, but I sometimes think it would be a relief to talk about it. I can't talk to Frodo because he doesn't really remember much of it, and I don't think he wants to, and Sam won't talk about it because it still pains him too much." She set down her wine glass and began.

~~**~~**~~** ~~**                            ~~**~~**~~**~~**                            ~~**~~**~~**

The Shire October 1426 SR

       Sam was very troubled. Frodo's usual anniversary illness was taking its time to shift. There had been the chills and fevers, of course, and the strange trance-like state, the nausea, the sleepwalking, the agonising pain and the terrifying nightmares. These were to be expected and had afflicted Frodo every October and March since they returned to the Shire; Sam knew how Frodo was feeling during those periods, and knew how long it would take before his master was restored to himself - or as much of himself as was left these days. This time however, things were different. It was a week since the 6th, and Frodo was still suffering from a high fever and a great deal of pain. The thought of food made him heave; he could only drink weak tea, water or weak watered fruit juice. The doctor had long since given up on "Mad Baggins" and no longer bothered to respond to a summons. Folk felt sorry for Sam and Rosie, having to look after "poor Mr. Baggins" but no-one ever offered to help, or came to visit, or stopped to ask him how he was feeling. Whether it hurt him or not Sam wasn't sure, but he himself grew more and more upset at the rejection of his friend and master. Only Pippin, Merry and the loving Esmeralda Brandybuck and Eglantine Took called at Bag End now, particularly during the illnesses.

       "How is he?" Rosie asked as Sam walked into the kitchen. She noted her husband's heavy step and pensive look, and cocked an eyebrow as he sank into the rocker by the stove.

       "I don't rightly know, lass. Never seen him this bad before. He won't even let me touch his shoulder - keeps saying there's something in there that's poisonous. He seemed frightened for me when I tried to bathe it. Didn't eat anything either."

       "He hasn't eaten anything for ten days now. We'll try the athelas again shortly. You have a rest, Sam, you were up half the night."

       Sam hauled himself out of the chair and walked to the door. "No, if I sit down I'll fall asleep. Don't want to leave him on his own right now."

       As he entered Frodo's room he was shocked to see his master's nightshirt bloodied. Frodo was scrabbling frantically at his chest, his fingers ripping at the pale flesh even with those ragged nails. He's searching for the Ring! Sam thought with sinking heart. He ran forward and held the hands still, gazing into the vacant blue eyes which seemed to be losing their colour, hoping for some sign of recognition. After a few moments Frodo shuddered and looked down at the blood.

       "I'm sorry, Sam. I don't know what came over me...........I suppose I wanted..........It..........." A tear slid down his cheek and he sagged back on the pillows. "I'm so tired, Sam.............. I don't think I can fight this any more ......" He looked frail and sad and hopeless.

       Sam sat on the bed and held him the way he would hold one of the children after a nightmare, rocking and shushing until the too-slender body was quiet in his arms. He silently cursed Sauron, Saruman and even the stupid council who had sent his poor master off to Mordor. Why did it have to be Frodo, so innocent and gentle, so happy? The Ring had eaten away at his soul and his mind as well as his body, and every anniversary he had to suffer more torment. This was so cruel. He had to admit to himself that these illnesses were getting worse, lasting longer and taking more out of Frodo each time. He was beginning to wish Frodo had gone to Valinor after all, if staying meant all this suffering.

       It was three weeks before Frodo felt well enough to get up, and even then he was still very subdued. The November chill seemed to seep into his bones and he huddled before the fire, often with a blanket wrapped round his shoulders. Rosie's heart twisted in pain to see him hunched over, his steps unsteady as an old gaffer's. She had seen the scars on his body - the knife wound in his shoulder, the twin lumps at the back of his neck from the great spider, the whip weals on his back and sides, the marks on his legs and feet from the sharp stones and hot larva of Mordor, the stump on his right hand where one of those long, scholar's fingers had been savagely bitten off by that dreadful creature Gollum, and the long deep furrow at the back and side of his neck where the weight of the thing he carried had caused its chain to cut into his flesh - but she was now starting to realise that the scars in his mind were even more of a problem. She was also concerned about all the signs of nerves, jumping at sudden noises, flinching from bright light and plagued by bouts of nervous retching. What frightened her the most were the episode of complete blankness, when he would sit staring at nothing for minutes or hours at a time. The March troubles would be upon him before he had a chance to recover from this bout, and she was not sure he had the strength to cope with much more.

       By Yule he was a little more approachable, but it was as though a light had gone out. He rarely went to the study to work on his books, and if he did stay in there for a while he seemed to spend his time staring into the fire, his mind far away in a land of fire and ash. Sometimes it was as though he was hypnotised by the glowing logs,, while at others he was apparently terrified. His manner had always been a little absent -minded, now he was vague and distant, even with the children. They did not appear troubled by this and gave their affection freely; little Elanorelle, as he called her, was the most loving child and she managed to pull him back when no-one else could. Frodo-lad was placid and gentle like his father, often tucked at Frodo's feet, quietly playing with tiny Rosie-lass. A new baby would be joining the family in the late spring, and Rosie felt she had almost everything she wanted - if only Frodo's health would improve.

       On March 12th Sam went into the study to take Frodo some tea, and found him on the floor in a swoon. He carried him to the couch and called Rosie, whose heart sank when she saw him. He looked so pale and thin; his appetite had been poor since the previous October. Would he have the strength to pull through another such extended period of sickness? She felt his left arm and hand, which were icy cold, and ran to fetch fresh athelas leaves. Sam grew it now because they used so much, and in winter it was cosseted under glass, with sacking added at night to keep out the frost. Together they helped him to his room and put him to bed. He raised no objection but sank into the pillows with a weary sigh and closed his eyes, allowing the mattress to support his thin, frail body.

       During that night, and for many nights afterwards, Frodo was wracked with fevers and chills. Rosie and Sam took it in turns to sit beside him and mop the sweat from his face and neck. Merry and Pippin arrived as soon as they heard, and they too joined in, sending Rosie off to bed. She was due to give birth in six weeks and needed her rest. Merry had never been so afraid for his cousin, not since those terrible days when they struggled towards Rivendell; he sensed that Frodo was slipping further and further away in his mind. Taking Frodo's limp hand, he talked softly of their lives together in the early days at Brandy Hall, when Merry was very young.

       "You were always my hero, you know, Fro. I followed you everywhere whether you wanted me or not. I must have been an infernal nuisance but you never once shouted at me or pushed me away." He leaned closer and wiped the sheen of sweat from Frodo's brow. "And you're still my hero - no, you are. You're so brave, Fro. Please don't give up now, dearest. We all love you so much."

       Pippin tried to choke back the tears. He couldn't bear to see Frodo like this, so weak and broken, but he couldn't leave Merry to cope alone. Sam was sleeping, having made them promise to wake him if there were any problems. Taking Frodo's other hand, Pip began to chat aimlessly about everything and nothing, hoping to rouse his cousin from his delirium. He was busy rambling about meals at Great Smials and Bag End when Frodo's eyes flickered open and a tired voice whispered,

       "Don't you ever talk about anything but food, Peregrin Took?"

       Pip was too startled and relieved to think of a smart answer but merely hugged Frodo gently. Merry woke with a start and smiled as he saw Frodo stirring.

       "Hello, Fro! Would you like a drink?" He propped his cousin tenderly against his shoulder and held the glass to his lips. Frodo drank a whole glassful of clear water and struggled to sit up. "No, no, just rest. You're probably a bit weak at the moment."

       "How long have I been ill?"

       "Almost two weeks, dear. You fainted in the study, do you remember?"

       Frodo shook his head, his eyes confused and frightened. "I'm getting worse, aren't I? Every time it is worse and takes longer to recover. I don't know, Merry............I......................." He fumbled for the white jewel on its chain and gripped it convulsively. "No," he murmured to himself, "I will not give in to it. I will not!" For a moment his eyes blazed with an un-natural light and then gradually became quiet again. His lids fluttered closed and he slept easily now the fever had left him. Merry and Pip exchanged relieved glances. It was over - for now, they thought.

       In fact their troubles were just beginning.

                                                 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In Gondor in 1429, Rosie relates the story of Frodo's illness two years before.

Rosie picked up the plate with its untouched contents, and sighed heavily. This was becoming far too common, Frodo either sitting toying with his food or not even coming to the table. He had made an effort and eaten something two days ago when Merry and Pippin were there, but she had her suspicions that he had gone to the bathroom and thrown up later on. She would try and broach the subject with Sam later, although it would not be easy. His first instinct was to deny there was a problem, and become defensive, and then he would go quiet and busy himself outside in the garden.

       Scraping the uneaten food into the bin, she put the plate into the sink and poured a kettle of hot water over the crocks. While they soaked, she had five minutes in the rocking chair to ease her aching legs and the twinges in her back. She drummed her fingers lightly over her bump and spoke softly to the baby.

        "I'll be mighty glad when you're out of there, little one. You're making my back gip something awful, and you weigh a ton. I reckon you're too content in there, you little horror!" She heaved herself out of the chair and finished the washing up while the children napped. Outside, Sam was whistling as he tidied the flowerbeds and prepared them for the summer bedding plants. He planted things that Frodo liked, despite the fact that Frodo had not ventured into the garden since the previous summer and kept the shutters of the study closed at all times.

                                                                    ***************

       The baby arrived three days later, a large and lively boy. Frodo was having a good day, and kept Sam company in the kitchen as they waited for the baby's first cry. The other children were staying at the Cotton's farm, rampaging round the meadows and playing with the new lambs and calves. Sam no longer paced about as he had when Elanor was born, but he was always a little tense. Rosie made very little noise but any cry from the bedroom set his teeth on edge and made him puff more strongly on his pipe. Frodo poured tea as they sat in companionable silence at the table. When the midwife appeared and beckoned them they hurried in, expecting the worst as there had been no cry from the babe.

       Rosie was sitting up, flushed and tired but smiling happily. She held out her hands and called them to the bedside to admire the new arrival, a red-faced but contented baby with a mop of light brown curls and restless downy feet which kicked and struggled to be free of the covering shawl.

       "Not a cry, not a peep. Happy little soul. What shall we call this one, lass?"

       "I reckon he's a Merry, don't you?" she smiled. "What do you think, Mr. Frodo?"

       Frodo thought for a moment, his head slightly to one side. "Mmmmm.........yes, I like that. Hello, little Merry." He held the tiny hand between his finger and thumb and solemnly shook hands. Rosie smiled at Sam, and tried to hide her fears that this was only a temporary respite for their dear friend.

                                                                 ******************

       Frodo was standing at the sink with his back to the door when Sam entered the kitchen. He jumped in surprise and spun round, dropping the knife he was holding with a clatter. He looked quite wild, eyes narrowed, lips drawn back, clearly angry at being disturbed. There was guilt too, and Sam was still trying to assimilate all this as Frodo wrenched his shirt sleeve down and rushed from the room without a word. Sam heard the sound of the study door being slammed and the bolt drawn. He walked to the sink and picked up the knife, puzzled and fearful; there was blood on the blade.

       "Don't know what that was all about," he muttered, frowning as he tried to make sense of it.

       "What what was all about?" enquired Rosie from the doorway, her arms full of dirty washing.

       Sam debated whether to tell her, but she had reached his side and looked down at the knife. "I was wondering when you were going to notice."

       "Notice what?" he asked, bewildered. "What do you know about this?"

       "Only that he's been cutting himself for weeks now. Haven't you noticed the scars on his arms? I know he keeps his sleeves down but I saw them when he was ill." She put the sheets into the kitchen copper and stoked the fire. "And I've found tiny bloodstains on the insides of his shirtsleeves."

       "You mean he's trying to....................................." Sam could hardly bring himself to say it. " ..............kill himself?" he whispered finally.

       "No, I don't think it's that. I think he's hurting himself as punishment, and possibly because that pain makes him forget his other pain for a while. He can't deal with his real pain so he does something he can see and feel properly. It's as though he's only really alive when he has the pain of a proper wound to deal with. If I were you I'd lock up that sword of his, just in case." She turned and looked at Sam. "He makes himself sick after meals too - if he gets as far as eating anything, that is!"

       "Mr. Frodo's always had a delicate stomach."

       "Delicate stomach, fiddlesticks! He's doing it deliberately!"

       Sam looked even more confused. "Why would he do that? What are you talking about, Rose?"

       "Elves and dragons, Sam Gamgee! Do I have to spell it out for you? If he eats anything, like as not he goes to the privy or the bathroom and puts his fingers down his throat! He's so thin a puff of wind would blow him away! Mostly he doesn't eat at all, but you watch him if there's company. He'll make a big show of clearing his plate, although Rosie-lass could eat twice the portions he does, and then goes out and gets rid of it!"

       "B...bb...but ......why?" Sam finished lamely, although somewhere in his mind he had some vague idea of the reason. He needed Rose to put it into words.

       She thought hard, her hands clasped under her chin as she sat down at the table. "I think he feels he doesn't deserve to eat and thrive and enjoy life. No-one else blames him for claiming that thing so he blames himself. He is ashamed and so eaten up with guilt he can't see past it to the truth. You said he asked Gandalf once if the King would put him on trial? That is real guilt."

       "But no-one could have resisted the Ring then, not in Mordor, not with Sauron so powerful! Why does he blame himself? He got the Ring to the Cracks of Doom - he did what everyone asked of him! He didn't fail! He didn't!" Sam put his head in his hands and wept. Rosie got up, walked round the table and wrapped her arms around him.

       "You know that. I know that. Anyone who knows the story knows that. But he thinks he failed because he was entrusted with it and told to throw it in, and that bit he couldn't do. No-one could have done, but he won't see that. All he knows is that he broke his vow, and his guilt and shame are killing him. He won't let it go, it gnaws at him day and night, more and more. All we can do is try to convince him that he did what was asked of him. He got it there - the rest happened because he pitied that wretched Gollum. Of course he's also ashamed because he misses it. You know how he scrabbles for it when he's in one of those trances. Rips his chest and throat raw sometimes." She turned Sam to face her. "Didn't Gandalf say that it had left a gaping wound in his soul?"

       Sam nodded sadly. "He said, 'It isn't just his finger that's been ripped away, it's part of his soul, and what's left is a bleeding pulp that may never be healed'" He fumbled for his handkerchief and blew his nose. "I'm so frightened for him, lass. I don't see how he can bear another bout as he is now. He's so weak and frail. I've seen how often he has to sit down, I know sometimes he's dizzy and faint, and he doesn't sleep properly. Those terrible nightmares are getting worse too - I don't like to think what he was rambling last night because it scared me too much, but it was something about..................that place...."

       "The tower? What do you think they did to him there, Sam? .......................," her voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you think..................?"

       Sam flinched as though he'd been struck. "There was.............," he swallowed, "............blood on his legs and he had trouble walking. I was so anxious to get him out of there that I didn't ask, but mebbe I didn't dare because I was afraid of the answer."

       "All we can do is be there for him, love him and care for him when he's ill. He said he didn't go with Mr. Bilbo and the Elves because they said there was no guarantee he'd be cured over there. If the Valar and the Elves couldn't be sure he'd get well, then all we can do is trust to hope and love. There's certainly more of that here than he'd have in Valinor."

                                                                ********************

       There was great excitement in the Gamgee family as Midsummer approached. The Free Fair was due to be held on the White Downs during Lithe, and the most important event at the fair was the election of the Mayor. Old Flour-dumpling, Will Whitfoot, was retiring. Sam had hoped that Frodo would stand as Mayor, as he had filled in for Will in the months following their return to the Shire, but Frodo declined all public office. He did, however, have an amazing suggestion, which was thoroughly approved of by the Thain, the Master, Old Will himself and virtually everyone in the Shire except Ted Sandyman.

       "Me?!" Sam had said incredulously. "Me as Mayor? You have to be kidding me!"

       "Who better than the one who healed the Shire, you dear ass! One day Merry will be Master and Pip will be the Thain, so what better than for you to be the Mayor? You know and love every tree, every flower, every blade of grass in the Shire, you are the obvious choice." He turned to Rosie. "Tell this husband of yours that he'll be the ideal Mayor!"

       Ted Sandyman declared that he wasn't going to take this lying down, and announced his decision to stand against Sam, hoping to buy votes with free beer. The hobbits had neither forgiven nor forgotten Ted's involvement with Sharkey's men, but they took the free beer anyway, then voted for Sam. Ted Sandyman slunk off, declaring his intention to move to Bree rather than live under the rule of a gardener!

       "Good riddance!" Merry snapped. Your cousin can run the mill - he's an honest enough sort who won't give short weight!" He grinned at Ted's spluttering fury and stepped closer, Pip beside him. "And I'll thank you not to deride one who has done much, not just for the Shire but for the whole of Middle-Earth. There's none finer or more honest and true than Sam Gamgee, and I'm proud to call him my friend!"

       Ted backed away. The two were alarming, towering above all other hobbits at around four and a half feet, and their experiences in the War had toughened them to a frightening degree. He loathed them, and that mad cousin of theirs, but he was too much of a coward to confront them. Even Baggins had a tricky temper if he was roused, although these days he looked like death warmed over, with a crazy gleam in his eye sometimes that fair turned Ted's stomach.

       "Well said, Merry!" Frodo said softly, and stepped up to join his cousins. He scowled at Ted. "You are not fit to be walked over by Samwise Gamgee, and if you want to go to Bree then that's fine by the rest of us. But make sure you stay there - I should hate to be bolstered by false hope and be disappointed at your return!"

       Howls of laughter from the crowd greeted this sally. 'Mad Baggins' he might be, but he could usually provide a witty retort when required.

       "Good one, Frodo!" cried Pippin. "You're a fool, Ted Sandyman. You always were and you always will be!"

       Sam blushed and glowed. Old Hamfast looked fit to burst with pride - his young Samwise Mayor! He said little but he slapped Sam on the back and grunted quietly, "Well done, lad."

       Rosie tucked her arm through his and kissed him. "Mmmm. Fancy me being married to the Mayor! Hope I'm not going to be accused of sleeping with those in high office for nefarious purposes!" She giggled as Sam gave her breast a gentle squeeze. "Public officials - they're all the same!"

       He grinned, then frowned as he looked across at Frodo. "He's so pale and thin. Still, he's eaten today - and had some ale."

       "Let's hope he keeps it down. Don't forget, it is his first time out since last September. I thought he'd never make it up on the pony. I hope he'll manage to get home alright."

       Esmeralda Brandybuck spoke from just behind them. "We'll bring him home in our carriage. He looks terrible, my dear. What is going on with the poor boy?" She shooed Sam off and led Rosie to a seat under the trees. "Tell me - I can see it isn't good. He's a bag of bones, he's no energy - even his eyes are paler than they used to be, like one of my old petticoats when the colour's washing out." She lowered her voice. "Is he cutting his arms again? Making himself sick?"

       Rosie was shocked. "Again? What do you mean, Ma'am?"

       "Call me Esme, dear. You're one of the family, and I can't abide the snobbery in some quarters which says the wife of the Master cannot be on first name terms with anyone other than born gentlehobbits. Yes, again. He did it for a little while after his parents died. I found out and managed to help him over it, but I suspect I'd have less success now." She sighed. "He's never been right since that awful journey and that Ring. Merry tells me some things, of course, and the rest I have to guess from what he doesn't say, but mothers are good at that, as I daresay you know already! I think he's hinted that something terrible happened to Frodo when he was captured."

       Rosie found it was a relief to talk to Esme, who had been Frodo's adoptive mother after his parents drowned. She told her what she knew, and what she could only guess, and Esme nodded sympathetically. She told Rosie to send for her if necessary, which gave Rosie some comfort. Her intuition told her such comfort would be sorely needed before the year was out.

       One of Sam's first duties was to conduct the double wedding of Merry to Estella Bolger and Pippin to Diamond of Long Cleeve. This had led to teasing on all sides, even from Frodo, who roused himself sufficiently to appear fairly normal. He was Chief Supporter to both bridegrooms, and they teased him about being a Ring-bearer again. He kept one pair of rings in his left pocket and the other in his right, so he wasn't muddled, and afterwards he made a charming and witty speech which was wildly applauded by everyone.

       Later that evening Frodo sought the shade of the bushes and sank down on a bench. He felt dizzy and weak, and his stomach was roiling uneasily. The strain of pretending had worn him down and now he was exhausted. His shoulders slumped and he rested his head on his arms. As soon as was decently possible he would return to Bag End and go to bed, although even sleep brought him no rest. He could hear the voices much more clearly at night.

       "Little filth! Where is it, little filth?" Groping fingers, sharp talons scrabbling at his clothes, tearing, grabbing at his hair. The weight of bodies, foul and stinking, pushing him to his knees. Agonising pain and humiliation, although no more than he deserved. He was filth. Their flesh was his now, he was corrupted beyond all aid. He could feel them all around him. They had put their mark on him and he would never be free. They had taken his self-respect and the Ring had taken his soul. He was nothing. Filth. Scum. He knew the real reason he had not dared to go to Valinor - he remembered that strange dream he had had in Tom Bombadil's house, of being rejected and shunned there, and being unnoticed on his return to Middle-Earth, despised and mad. He was tainted and he poisoned everything he touched and everything he loved. He should leave, before he infected Sam and Rosie and the children. Where though? Where could he go? Perhaps it would be best to just walk into the fast-flowing Brandywine and join his parents, or cut his throat with Sting's sharp blade. Anything was better than this.

       "Frodo! Where are you? The brides want a dance!"

       He was shaking and sweat ran down his face. He slipped forward off the bench and vomited quietly into the bushes, his stomach muscles clenching even when he had thrown up everything inside him. He remained on his knees for some minutes, fighting the waves of faintness which were threatening to overwhelm him. This torment would never end. Here or Valinor, it was all the same; a living death.

       "Frodo! Come on - there's two pretty girls eager to dance with you!"

       Frodo pushed his hair back, wiped his face with his handkerchief, then he squared his shoulders, forced a smile and walked back to the company.

                                                                 *******************

The Shire Summer 1427 SR

       The wedding turned out to be Frodo's last outing. Once back in Bag End he refused all invitations, ignored all pleas. He had not been down to the Ivy Bush or the Dragon for a year or more, and had no wish to go now and be the target for prying eyes and pitying glances. Some days he did not even rise from his bed, meals were sent away untouched and at night he paced the smial with a strangely intense look in his eyes. Sam locked Sting away in the chest in the cellar, and hid the key down at the Gaffer's in New Row, and he wondered about putting a lock on the knife drawer. Frodo's manner was alarming everyone; only the children seemed not to notice but they did not try to play with him any more because it was clear he was much too preoccupied to do so. When Rosie, Sam and the children had a picnic in the orchard they tried to persuade him to join them but he refused. They were as brown as berries and he was as pale as if he were made of moonbeams. When they trooped back indoors six hours later he was still sitting at his desk with his chin resting on his hand, lunch uneaten, tea not drunk.

       Frodo knew that life went on around him but it was as though a fog or a thick veil had separated him from the rest of the world, gradually blotting out the senses. Smells, sights, sounds, tastes, all seemed muted and dulled. He was no longer part of it; everything was flat and colourless. Oh, he could see the colours but not as he used to - the vivid greens of the fields and trees, the sharp clear blue of the sky, the rich luscious reds of the roses in the gardens, the way a ripe apple shone in the autumn sunlight. He had lost sight of all these things during that wasting trek across Mordor but after the Ring went into the fire he thought he could regain his ability to truly experience all the richness of life. He had been mistaken: month by month since their return his grip on the world had slipped. He was sliding slowly from the world, weakening and consumed from within. Soon there would be nothing but dust and Frodo Baggins would be no more. He no longer cared but wished for it to be over soon.

       One evening Sam found him in the study, staring at the desk where the Red Book was kept. He was muttering to himself in a manner which made Sam's neck hair rise.

       "I thought if I kept the book shut, and locked up in the drawer it would be safe, but it isn't. The Eye is still there, in the book..........watching me.......waiting......................................Burn it? Or will that make it worse? " He looked uncomprehendingly at Sam. "Do you think it's safe in there?"

       "Yes, me dear, I'm sure it is. Come on now, let's get you to bed." He took one cold hand and steered his master out of the room. When they reached Frodo's bedroom he turned to Sam, recognition once more in his eyes.

       "Sam, do you think I'm a danger to the children? Supposing I do something dangerous.........I don't think I know what I'm doing sometimes. I'd never forgive myself if...........if..............."

       "No," Sam said stoutly. "You're no danger to anyone, and they love you. They'd do anything for you, you know that."

       "I don't deserve it, you know. I'm poisoned, Sam. Damaged goods. I contaminate everything. I should go away somewhere.......far away from all of you, so I won't hurt anyone. I can never be healed.....not really. Perhaps I should have gone with Bilbo........?"

       Sam embraced him tenderly. "Well I'm very glad you didn't. We want you here, and I don't want to hear any more about you going away. We love you, all of us." He smiled at his master and Frodo looked as though he desperately wanted to believe him.

       In September they thought he would do something for the Baggins birthday, if only to celebrate Bilbo's, but he did not mention it. When Sam reminded him that it would be his birthday in two days he merely nodded absently and went on staring into the distance. The next day he went down with a chill and stayed in bed, coughing and shivering. Drenching sweats left him wrung out and shaking, and the pain in his shoulder gnawed like toothache. It had never come on two weeks before the anniversary before, and did not bode well for him. He pushed Sam away, hissing in pain.

       "Please, no! It hurts too much. There's something there, Sam. I don't want it to poison you." He hunched forward, whimpering. Sam sat by him until he dozed off, and he himself was nodding when Frodo suddenly gripped his arm and said fiercely, "Do you love me, Sam? Would you do anything for me?"

       "You know I would, Mr. Frodo." He stared deep into Frodo's once dazzling blue eyes, now veiled and diluted, and thought what a disaster it had all been, to bring Frodo to this.

       The cultured voice was urgent. "Then end this for me, Sam. If you love me, kill me now! I can't go on like this!"

       Sam recoiled. "No, Frodo, no! Don't say that! Don't ask such a thing of me, please! You're not yourself, sir, you don't know what you're saying!"

       "For Eru's sake, Sam! You know what this is doing to me! I'm dying by inches here! Please, Sam..... ............" He began to sob brokenly, rocking backwards and forwards, his anguish more than Sam could bear. For the first time in his life Sam offered Frodo no comfort, but fled the room, his own tears streaming down his face.

       "Could we get him to Valinor?" Pippin asked anxiously. "They might be able to heal him there."

       "He'd never make the journey," said Merry, picking at his lunch. "He isn't strong enough, even if we took it slowly." He turned to Sam, who was still shaken by the events of the previous day. "He really asked you to kill him? Things are even worse than we thought."

       "He says I should have left him on the mountain, or that Gandalf shouldn't have bothered to pick him up, or that he should have jumped in after Gollum. I know he was resigned to death when we stood there. He only walked down the mountain because I wanted to, because I was still convinced it would be alright. I was wrong, though, wasn't I? It isn't alright. It never will be.........  Perhaps I should have................" Tears rolled down Sam's face and he pushed his plate away. Merry put an arm round his shoulders and tried to comfort him, even though he felt almost as hopeless.

       "Perhaps it will come right, Sam. We don't know what may happen. What was it Gandalf used to say? Even the very wise cannot see all ends? We have to hope. We must, we can't give up, even if Frodo has."

       "Why is he so thin?" enquired Pippin. "I thought he was eating - he ate whenever we came to lunch."

       "He don't keep it down though."

       "He always did have a very delicate stomach, our Fro."

       "'Tain't his stomach that's the problem," said Sam. "It's his mind that's rejecting the food because he thinks he's not worthy to live. Those retching spells are getting worse- it's like he can't stop sometimes, and if it don't happen naturally, he makes it happen - puts his fingers down his throat. I've heard him." He looked directly at the others. "He's going to die, isn't he? He'll never make it through another bout like last time. That cough's no better - next thing'll be pneumonia, and that'll be that. There's no fight left in him."

       Pippin was too flabbergasted to reply. He was trying to grasp the prospect of life without Frodo, and it was that thought which finally broke his self-control. He began to sob, and Merry couldn't hold out against his own grief. When Rosie entered the kitchen five minutes later she found all three weeping uncontrollably, and three plates of food untouched.

       "Trying to flood the Brandywine, are we?" she said gently. "I'll have none of this here! We keep hoping and we don't crumble! Is that clear?"

       Three meek little voices murmured, "Yes, Rose." Pippin scrubbed his face and sniffed. "But how are we going to help Fro? What can we do?"

       "Well, sitting here crying isn't going to help, now is it? I'll put the kettle on and make some tea. He's hurting so much right now that we have to help him all we can, and that means we have to be strong." Rosie glared at the three of them and tried to smile as though she meant it.

October 4th, 1427 SR

       Frodo now kept his bedroom door bolted. He lay on his bed, his frighteningly thin body tangled in the sweat-soaked sheets. A violent fit of coughing left him gasping and faint, his head pounding. The agony of the wound in his shoulder made him nauseous, the insidious chill seeped into his soul and tears of pain trickled slowly down his cheeks.. No matter how he tried, he could not make himself comfortable. He was taking far too much poppy draught for the pain, but it was completely unbearable without it. He wondered how much of the stuff he would have to drink to slide into merciful oblivion, but there was not enough. Should he take it all and fail he would have nothing to dull the unremitting agony. To his surprise he realised he had also drunk nearly half a bottle of best Gondorian brandy, and still the pain refused to release its grip.

       Outside it was dark. The moon was a rich gold as it sailed in the night sky, and high above the Shire rode Earindil, the shining guiding star of the Elves, the light of the Silmaril upon his brow. It was well after midnight and the smial was quiet. Frodo dragged himself off the bed and staggered for a moment, reaching out to steady himself on the bedside table. With slow, painful steps he negotiated his way to the door and slid back the bolt as silently as he could. One lamp burned in the passage, giving him just enough light to find his way to the kitchen. He opened a drawer and scanned the contents, found what he was looking for, and tip-toed slowly out through the garden door.

       Sam was a light sleeper. Since the Quest he had had the ability to sleep with one eye open as it were, and with the children and Frodo to look after, this sense became even more developed. He lifted his head from the pillow and listened. Merry and Pippin had gone back to Crickhollow for a day or two, so whatever had woken him it wasn't Pip raiding the pantry. The children were quiet, baby Merry had a snuffle and was snoring slightly, and Rosie was breathing evenly beside him. Frodo! He sat up and Rosie was instantly awake.

       "What is it?" she hissed in his ear.

       "Dunno. Thought I heard something........I'd best go and check, lass. He might have tried to get up and fainted again." He grabbed his breeches.

       "What will you do if he's locked the door?" she asked, fumbling for her robe.

       "I'll have to go round and climb through the window."

       Sam set off down the passage to Frodo's room. He found the door unlocked, but the room was empty. He ran back along the passage, looking in all the rooms along the way, checking the study carefully. Rosie met him at the door to the kitchen, her face pale and frightened.

       "Lass? What..........what is it?"

       "He's taken the sharpest knife! It was in the drawer last night - I put it back myself after dinner, hidden under the tea towels. Sam, what if...........?" she began, but her husband was already snatching a lantern and heading for the garden.

       He fought to think calmly. Where would Frodo have gone? He thought briefly about the Party Tree but doubted Frodo could get that far. No, he had to be somewhere in the garden. He peered around for a moment, struggling against panic. Mr. Bilbo's rose garden! Frodo always went there when he wanted to think. Yes, start there and hope he was right. He ran down the path and round the corner of Bag End, then halted as he saw the white bundle on the ground near the swing seat, unmoving. Blind terror froze him to the spot for a minute or two. He was terrified of what he would find when he reached his master, but his need to know finally propelled him forward, and he ran to the centre rose bed.

       His heart and stomach back-flipped as he knelt beside Frodo. Blood soaked the front of his nightshirt and stained the grass. The knife lay near his right hand, dropped when he collapsed. There was blood everywhere, but Sam could not see where it was coming from. He managed to slide his hands carefully under Frodo's limp form and lift him. Turning, he made for the smial as fast as he could, his burden too light and still in his arms.

       Rosie almost screamed in horror as Sam stepped inside and laid his master on the couch. The snowy nightshirt was scarlet, and Frodo so pale he could not be alive........could he? She could hardly breathe for the pain in her chest and the stinging in her eyes, but she pulled herself together and found clean rags, a basin of water, and a sheet and pillowcase to tear into bandages. Sam unbuttoned the nightgown to see the extent of the damage. Had his master tried to cut his throat? Sam shuddered as he stared at Frodo's left shoulder. He must have gouged at it in a frenzy of pain because there was a gaping hole at least an inch wide and very deep, and blood was welling up and trickling down his chest. More blood dribbled from wounds on both wrists and dripped onto the parlour floor, and the air was filling with the coppery smell of it, sharp and metallic.

       "Elbereth! What has he done?! Oh Frodo, no, no!" Sam chafed one cold hand desperately as he realised the extent of his beloved master's despair.

       Rosie examined the wounds. "Come on, Sam, he ain't dead yet! Look lively and help me dress these wounds. I need lots of athelas, dear. Now hurry!"

       Sam gazed dumbly at her for a moment before her words sank in. He wasn't dead?

       Rosie shooed him out. "Get some blankets, and build up that fire - and the one in his room. Move, Samwise!" She turned her attention back to the still figure, and stroked his cheek gently. "Oh, Frodo! Why, my dear? Why did you do this? Why couldn't we help you? We're not enough for you, are we?"

       Sam ran back, carrying blankets, and they removed his nightgown and wrapped his legs and body carefully. Rosie bathed and flushed the shoulder wound with athelas water, then pounded a bundle of the leaves and stuffed them into the cavity.

       "The cuts on his wrists are not too bad. I reckon he was too weak by then to do much, what with his illness and the loss of blood. He must have really attacked this one though. Looks as though he just stuck the point in and twisted it round and round." Rosie winced at the thought, and bound his wrists with strips of the pillowcase. She had placed a clean dressing on the shoulder wound and wrapped long strips of the sheet round his chest and back. When she was satisfied, she draped another blanket over him and sat beside the couch to watch over him. She thought he was like one of those beautiful Elven goblets, clear and full of light, but there was a crack in it somewhere, and no matter how much was poured in, it all leaked out again. They had tried so hard to show him he was loved and cared for, but nothing reached him. He was lost and alone.

        With Sam out of the room, she allowed her tears to fall over the cold maimed hand with its missing finger, and wept until she had no more tears left.

                                                                    ****************

       With the dawn Sam sent messages to Merry and Pippin, who arrived the following evening, together with Esmeralda. Frodo had barely moved since Sam had found him, and his fever was climbing ever higher. The children, except for the baby, were packed off to Mari and Tom's since Rosie saw no point in distressing them, and they would all have their work cut out for some time, without having three boisterous children running around. Esme was sitting with Frodo, talking to him about his childhood and his parents, and all the while stroking his brow. She was worried at the heat coming off him, and when Rosie had fed Merry-lad, the two women sponged him down with cool water. Esme could have wept at the state of him, nothing but skin and bones and a mass of scars. Each one stood out on the alabaster skin, testament to the trials and torments he had undergone. She wondered what Prim would say if she could see her precious, beautiful son now, and the thought almost broke her heart.

       Esme made sure he was propped up. Allowing him to lie flat with that cough was just asking for trouble. He had had pneumonia after his parents died, and once since the Quest. Another bout would finish him off, she was sure of that. She also sent for the doctor from Buckland. Like his colleague in Hobbiton, he thought it was a waste of time, but he answered the summons because alienating the wife of the Master would be very foolish. He held out little hope, but he left various medicines for the cough and fever, approved the tepid sponging and left them with a list of instructions. The wounds were clean and well-bandaged, and if he noted the multiple lines and criss-cross scars on Frodo's arms he made no comment.

       "Get away from me! No! No! Don't touch me!"

       Merry held Frodo down as gently as he could, marvelling at the strength he still possessed in his delirium. Pippin was on the other side of the bed, struggling to calm his cousin as he thrashed and writhed. He winced as Frodo began to scream, but he forced himself to speak soothingly.

       "It's alright, Frodo. It's us, Merry and Pip. We're trying to help you. Come along now dearest, let silly old Pip give you a drink."

       "You're trying to poison me! Get away! Get away, damn you!" He fought and struggled until he was gasping for breath and coughing uncontrollably.

       "It's not us he's talking to, Pip. He's back in that terrible place again. Come on now, Fro, you'll only make that cough worse." He rubbed Frodo's back gently and then gestured hastily to Pip as the thin body started to convulse. "Basin, Pip! Now!"

       Pippin leapt forward just in time as the hacking coughs turned to retching, and Merry supported Frodo's head over the basin while he was wretchedly and repeatedly sick. He groaned in frustration. The doctor had said not to allow him to dehydrate, and it was difficult enough persuading him to swallow, without him spewing it back up again.

       They eased him back on the pillows, emptied the basin, changed his nightshirt and sponged his face without further protest. Later, Merry propped him against his shoulder and stroked his throat to encourage him to swallow the weak, sweet tea Pip held to his lips. It took a long time but they managed to get a cupful down him, and smiled at each other in relief at the achievement. Apart from an occasional moan, Frodo was quiet now. His fever had dropped a little as a result of another sponging, and he fell into a restless doze, his breath rattling slightly in his chest. The doctor had prescribed cherry bark tea for his chest but it was vile, and Frodo was very sensitive to nasty tastes. It came down to a horrible choice - give him the medicine and risk making him sick, or do without, knowing he would probably die. Merry shuddered at the prospect of taking such a decision and resolved to discuss it with the others first. He trimmed the lamps and settled down in the chair beside the bed. Pippin threw another log on the fire and curled up on the bed with his fingers threaded through Frodo's. They were quiet and watchful, each thinking the same thoughts and whispering the same prayers.

                                                  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In Gondor in 1429 SR, Rosie continues to relate the story of Frodo's illness two years previously.

The Shire, October 1427 SR

Rose was hanging out washing to take advantage of the October sun when footsteps sounded in the lane, and a laughing voice said admiringly,

       "Always busy, Rosie! How are you, mellon nin?"

       She spun round and there were Gimli and Legolas leaning on the front garden wall, smiling cheerfully. Their smiles vanished as they saw her miserable and careworn expression, and Legolas vaulted the wall to take her in his arms.

       "What is it, my dear little one?" He knelt and studied her. Gimli walked up also and put an arm round her shoulders.

       "You look so sad, Rose. What is it?" He thought for a second. "Is it one of the children? Or is it Frodo?"

       Rosie took a deep breath, nodded and burst into tears. She rested her head on Legolas' shoulder and sobbed out the story, her body shuddering with grief. It was a relief to let go. She was being so strong for everyone else but she too needed someone to be strong for her.

       "Then we will help," said the Elf firmly. "I do not have Lord Elrond's healing skills unfortunately, but I will do whatever I can. I'm sure Gimli and I can do some nursing and take our turn at sitting with him, otherwise you'll be exhausted." He smiled encouragingly as Rosie found her handkerchief and dried her eyes.

       "Mustn't let Sam see me like this. He's beside himself as it is, poor lamb. We'll have quite a team if you two help out. Merry and Pippin are here, and Merry's mother. She sort of adopted Frodo after his mum and dad were drowned, so she's very close to him." She led the way inside, calling softly, "Sam? Sam dear, look who's here!"

       Sam, Merry and Pippin tumbled out into the passage and flew at the visitors. Soon Legolas and Gimli were comforting them all while Esmeralda made tea. She had never met Elves and dwarves before but they were both very charming, and she was a Took born and bred, and therefore used to odd things happening. The fact that a tall blond Elf-prince was talking to her and arranging teacups on a tray while a dwarf set out plates of sandwiches did not unsettle her in the least. She soon had them organised and drew up a rota of nurses, so that there were two people with Frodo at all times.

       "The cough is no better, but no worse, so it hasn't gone to pneumonia yet. The wound on his shoulder is swelling now, and there's an abscess building, so we're bathing that several times a day. Getting fluids down him is the most difficult because he's not very co-operative, to say the least. Sometimes he fights us, and sometimes he's so deeply unconscious that his throat has to be stroked to make him swallow. He's often very delirious and can be quite violent. Poor dear, he doesn't know what he's doing ." She handed round the tea as though she were entertaining the good ladies of the Marish to a sewing circle, quite unflustered.

       Legolas was keen to see Frodo, and he and Gimli went to him as soon as they had finished tea. Sam was sitting with him, stroking his hand and talking softly of Bilbo, and Sam's own mother who had been so fond of Frodo. The Ring-bearer lay propped against the pillows, his curls damp and tousled. His face was as still as a Gondorian monument, pale and clammy, and his chest rose and fell with the fast breathing and erratic heartbeat of a rising fever. Dark blackish-purple bruise-like smudges beneath his eyes marred the alabaster complexion and his lips had an unhealthy bluish tinge. Gimli drew in his breath in a sharp gasp when he saw him and opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. He went into the hall, removed his mail, rolled up his sleeves and sat down opposite Sam.

       "Get ye'self to the kitchen and rest, lad. You look done in. Legolas and I will take our turn and we will call you if there is need."

       Sam looked doubtful, but he moved towards the door. "Well........if you're sure, Mister Gimli.......I suppose I am a bit tired........" He ran a hand through his curls in a distracted fashion.

       "I should think you are. Go and sleep, Sam. We will watch him." Legolas sat down in the chair Sam had just vacated, folding his legs under him with his usual grace. "Even when deeply unconscious it is still possible for him to hear us," he warned Gimli. He took the small hand in his, and began to croon softly in Elvish, trying to reach the tortured soul of the Ring-bearer. He could feel the rents and tatters in the gentle spirit, and was at a loss to know how to heal such fearful damage. He found being in the presence of death spiritually distressing and it cast a great shadow over his soul, but he would never desert his friends. The Fellowship would not fail.

       Gimli shrewdly said nothing, although he watched his friend carefully. He knew how helpless the Elf felt in the face of mortality, and Eru knew, they had witnessed enough during the Ring War. He himself had felt appalled at Helm's Deep, slipping in blood, falling over bodies, face to face with Death in all its guises and horror at every turn, and for an Elf it must have been even worse. Yet Legolas never flinched, and Gimli admired him for that.

                                                                       ******************

       The candles had guttered out while Gimli daydreamed and Legolas sat unmoving in the soft darkness. Gimli stirred and blinked, then shook his head. Was he imagining things? He looked more closely at the sleeping form on the bed; a soft glow seemed to emanate from Frodo's skin, an uncanny inner light like that of the stars.

       "Legolas!" the Dwarf whispered. "Am I going mad or is he shining?"

       The Elf leaned over to peer down at the delicate face of the Ring-bearer. "Mithrandir said this might happen - that he would become a clear vessel filled with light for eyes to see that can."

       "Well that's a relief. Thought I was seeing things! It reminds me of the Lady."

       "He is slipping from this world, Gimli, my friend. He has never quite been of this world since the Ring and the wound from the Morgul knife, and now he is relinquishing his hold on life. Such beauty and sorrow." Legolas bowed his head and wept softly, and Gimli hunched himself over a little more, hiding his grief as best he could.

                                                                     *******************

       When Frodo became fretful, Legolas unfastened the nightshirt and lifted the bandages to look at the abscess. Frodo moaned and rolled his head on the pillow, his face twisting in pain at even the lightest touch. Fire and ice warred deep in his flesh, the chill numbing his arm and side while the raging heat throbbed and burned along his collarbone and up into his neck. His skin was hot and dry, and his throat felt parched. Someone murmured softly, a voice he thought he recognised but could not place, then a cup was held to his lips.

       "Slowly, mellon nin. Small sips - we don't want you to choke. That's right........ good........... good."

       He should know that voice, it seemed familiar, but it hurt to think. His head ached and he felt very strange, but the cool water felt nice in his mouth. He found he was being settled back on the pillows, and a cloth was wiped over his face and hands. He drifted in and out of consciousness, and was vaguely aware at one point that he was in a bathful of tepid water. It was restful, floating like that. Perhaps this was how Death came for his parents, bearing them away so very gently...........

       Later there was more to endure as his torturers returned to change the dressings. The pain made him shriek, although the sound emerged as an eerie keening which set everyone's teeth on edge. He had been like this now for three weeks; Rose was amazed he had lasted this long. She swabbed the abscess with athelas water and as she did so she felt something give slightly.

       "Sam love, pass me that basin and some rags. I think it's going to burst!"

       "Don't touch whatever comes out," Legolas warned. "Frodo may have been correct about a tiny fragment of evil. Wrap some of the rag round your hand, Rose."

       She pressed gently but firmly. Legolas and Gimli held Frodo as carefully as they could, but he arched off the bed with a piercing cry. Sam and Pippin both clamped their hands over their ears, and Merry bit his lip. Esme held a basin under the wound, and suddenly black pus streamed out, smoking as it hit the athelas water. Rosie packed more cloths round the area to mop up the horrible, acrid-smelling muck, flushing the wound again and again with warm water. She threw the soaked rags onto the old bedroom rug, grabbing fresh ones while Sam ripped up another sheet and handed her the pieces. By the time red blood was flowing from the wound and she was satisfied it was clean, she was sweating with effort. Gimli rolled up the rug and took it into the garden to burn, taking no chances. The cavity was packed again with more fresh athelas leaves which Merry pounded with the pestle and mortar, and a clean dressing put in place. Frodo lay very still now, having made no noise or movement since the abscess burst. Esme checked his pulse and found it as weak and thready as it had been, but at least it was there.

      That night the fever broke and Frodo's nightshirt was soon soaked, as were the sheets. Legolas wrapped him in a towel and sat in the rocking chair with him in his lap, singing very softly as he stroked the sweaty brow and matted curls. The others were relieved and hoped that now he would recover, but the Elf was afraid. He had tried to touch Frodo's spirit but it seemed further away than before.

                                                                    *****************

       The days merged in a routine of caring and worry, and each dealt with it in their own way. Rosie nursed the baby, and she and Esme cooked huge meals; Gimli smoked his pipe, Legolas sat in the lower boughs of a tree and communed with the rhythms of the earth, Merry and Pippin raided the ale casks, and Sam worked in the garden. Rose watched him from the kitchen window, observing the furious pace at which he raked leaves and pruned dead wood. He had to keep his mind busy or he thought too much. Sam had always found some measure of peace in a garden, relaxed by the familiar tasks he had performed since he was a lad helping his father. Of old Hamfast's three sons, only Sam displayed an interest in gardening, but with him it had been a gift. Even as a tiny child he had a way with plants and they flourished, nurtured by his chubby fingers. He had rescued a half-dead geranium and fussed over it until it was a blooming beauty, then presented it to young Frodo when he came to stay at Bag End with Bilbo. He knew and loved every plant in the garden, and looked after them like a father tending his children, and often he would talk to them as he worked, encouraging them with tender words. He liked to sing too, but there was no singing now. Sam carried out the tasks with grim determination but no joy, for his heart was heavy.

       As the late October evening darkened the Shire, Sam wandered into the rose garden. He had scrubbed and washed and swept the blood from the grass beneath the swing seat but his eyes were drawn to the area nevertheless. He gently caressed the stem of one of the last of the roses, a delicate white bloom with the faintest pink edging to the snowy petals. This rose always reminded him of Frodo, so lovely, so fragile, so pale. Another bloom lay on the ground, glowing faintly in the twilight. Possibly a bird had perched on the stem and broken it, or it was just too heavy for the stem to bear. It lay crushed and broken, still beautiful but dying. Sam found himself choking as he lifted it to his face to catch one last trace of its perfume. How like Frodo, who lay in his bed unmoving, crushed, dying under the weight of his unjustified guilt and shame. Sam sank to his knees, bowed his head to the soft earth, and sobbed his grief into the velvet petals.

       Merry and Pippin sat at the table, smoking their pipes and sipping ale. Pippin was demolishing sandwiches, not because he was hungry but from force of habit. He might have been the family clown and always joking, but he was a very tender-hearted hobbit, and he adored Frodo. Seeing him in such a state frightened and depressed him. He was used to people recovering from illness, not sinking by inches while he watched helplessly. The inner light frightened him too. It was now so obvious that their cousin was fading. There seemed to be nothing they could do but wait, and Pippin was driven almost mad with frustration. He had sobbed himself to sleep the previous night, although only Merry knew. He was worried too, which made Pippin even more fearful. Merry had always managed to calm his fears in the past; that dreadful night when they thought the orcs were going to kill them - or worse - Merry had been calm, talking nonsense to cheer them, even with a head wound. Now Pip watched his beloved cousin across the table, noting the distress in his eyes, the usually humorous mouth tight, his fingers clenched round the pipe stem. If Merry was this worried, Pippin was terrified. They were losing Frodo. The whole house reeked with tension and fear.

       Tending Frodo was disconcerting, as Gimli agreed. He gave no sign, made no sound and had not done so since the abscess broke three weeks before. Even the hacking cough had subsided to an occasional reflex. It was like lifting a corpse, he thought privately, although he would never have said so.

       "I liked it better when he was mistaking us for orcs," Pippin declared. "This is scaring me - he's like he was when we got to Rivendell, only worse."

       "He's not in the wraith-world again, is he, Legolas?" Merry turned to the Elf, who sat on the rug with his knees drawn up to his chin.

      Legolas sighed. "No, but his spirit is far away in a wilderness, and I do not believe he can hear us anymore. The link between spirit and body can only be stretched so far before it breaks. I have tried to call him back but he does not hear - or will not hear. There is so much guilt and shame in him and his brave soul is torn almost beyond repair. I fear for him, since I do not know if he can even find his way to peace as he is now. It would be a terrible fate to wander in such a wilderness for eternity." He held out a hand to Sam, who was bereft. "I am sorry, Sam. I wish I could be of more comfort, but I will not lie to you. Frodo is in a very dark place now, and I know of nothing which could light his way home."

       Sam rose and went into the garden. He gazed up at the stars which blurred and wavered through his tears. Of course he knew there was no hope. Frodo's breathing was slowing almost imperceptibly, his pulse weakening. It was torture to watch the rise and fall of his chest, for minutes would now elapse between breaths. Every time he would hold his own breath, waiting for the faint intake of air, the barely audible sigh of exhalation. The doctor had said it was only a matter of time, and deep in his heart Sam supposed that to be true. But Sam's stubborn faith in something else had sustained them both before. He heard voices in his mind as his gaze fell on the star which marked Earindil the Mariner.

       "Frodo is in a very dark place now." The voice of Legolas. Yet there was another. A female voice, as he stood on a riverbank in a wood full of golden trees, watching a beautiful woman in white bend to kiss his master's curls.

       "This is the light of Earindil, our most beloved star, caught in the waters of my fountain.......  May it be a light for you in dark places.........when all other lights go out."

       A light in dark places. May it be a llight for you..................

       Sam ran to the gate and hurried down to the Gaffer's house as fast as his legs could carry him.

                                                                  *******************

       The figure on the mountainside turned his head, as though listening for something. He gazed east, towards the shores of Middle-earth, and tears glittered in his compassionate blue eyes full of infinite wisdom. Younger than he had appeared during his time within the Circles of the World, tall and dark, his white robes glowing faintly in the twilight of Valinor, he was filled with pity for his young friend. Even here he could feel the Ring-bearer's pain, the sensitive spirit now worn so thin with grief and guilt that it was almost vanishing. He remembered the young hobbit's sense of mischief, his affection, his courage and his innocence, which had been whittled away and destroyed on that terrible journey.

       "The journey on which I sent him," he murmured, sighing heavily.

       "Tears, Olorin?" A woman's voice, infinitely gentle. "You weep for the Ring-bearer."

       He bowed. "My lady Varda. Yes, I weep for him. He should not have to suffer so after all he did. I grieve that he continues to suffer and can find no rest. There is no peace in his heart because he is riven with guilt and self-loathing. I wish he had come with us since I might have been able to help him, but at the last he could not leave those he loved the most."

       "Even here he might have suffered. He must want to heal, and to do that he must forgive himself. His torment comes from his refusal to accept that none could have resisted at the end. He believes he broke his promise and betrayed the trust of Middle-earth. That is a burden no-one can be expected to bear."

       "I know, lady. Now he wanders in darkness, lost and alone, in a morass of guilt and shame. Soon his spirit will be utterly lost."

       "I too would help Frodo." Another voice. A third figure joined them, bowing low to Varda. "My help has been sought; I cannot deny the request."

       The Istari smiled at Galadriel. "Requested? Not by Frodo, surely?"

       "No, Mithrandir. By Samwise." She looked into his face, her deep blue eyes full of pity and sorrow. "Dear Samwise, his love and loyalty are unwavering."

       "Dear old Sam! I should have guessed he would be hanging on. His determination kept them alive in Mordor, and he really is the most optimistic creature I've ever met!" He gave a short laugh. "Oh Sam!" He shook his head, and blinked away the tears.

       "The Ring-bearer must be exceptional, to draw tears from one of the Maia and a Queen of the Noldor," Varda said in wonder. "The King of Gondor weeps also. So much grief for one being. It is truly remarkable."

       "He is, or he would never have gone to Mordor. And Sam would never have gone with him. There was always something different about Frodo, and he was a very lovable little creature. Nothing of him, but he glowed with life and courage."

       Galadriel nodded. "He had qualities which set him apart from others of his race, and he and Samwise were very special together. I would beg for another chance for him. I should hate to see that valiant spirit lost forever."

       "Can you help him, Olorin?" Varda asked. "He knows you and my lady here. But if you wish to try, I suggest you hurry. His soul is fading fast."

       Mithrandir, or Gandalf as he was known in the realms of Middle-earth, turned to Galadriel. "Well, my lady? You said you would not deny Sam's plea for help. We must bend our minds to the place where Frodo wanders, and try to guide him home.......................or if not home, then at least into the next world where others wait for him. It must be one or the other."

       Bowing to Varda, they went a little way down the mountain, to begin their difficult task. Varda remained near the summit, listening to the prayers from Middle-earth. So many of those prayers contained the same simple request: "Save him, lady!"

                                                                   ********************

       Sam ran back to Bag End. He let himself in by the back door and crept down the cellar steps, where he unlocked the chest and gazed upon the contents. These were their most cherished treasures, brought back from their travels and reverently laid here. He picked up the little wooden box and touched the carved G rune in the lid with his finger. G for Galadriel, and garden...........and Gamgee, he thought wryly, tracing the Elven design and remembering the Lady of the Golden Wood. Next to it was Frodo's beautiful mithril shirt, gleaming with a light of its own in the dark cellar. Here was Sting, in its sheath and with the jewelled belt attached. It had once hung over the fireplace in the study, but Sam had locked it away months before, when Frodo began to harm himself. Sam remembered the weight of the sword in his hand as he faced the spider, Shelob, in that terrible place. The memory made him start, and turn to the last item, which had driven away the darkness and helped them past the gate at Cirith Ungol. He lifted the rich green velevet and unwrapped it carefully, until the star-glass lay revealed, glimmering faintly as it always did.

       Sam sat on the bottom step with the Phial in his hand, and bowed his head. Then he spoke.

       "Lady, hear me if you can. I don't know who else to turn to or what to do, but you helped us before and perhaps you can again. Help him, my lady. He is so ill and so lost. Legolas says he cannot find his way home now, but if we can light his way...........We're all in a dark place right now, and Frodo's in the darkest place of all. Guide him back to us.............................or to his rest if he can't come back here." He choked on those words, his acceptance that Frodo might never come home, but then he swallowed hard and continued, "Help us, lady, I beg you, please............." Unable to go on, he closed his eyes to squeeze away the tears. When he opened them again he gasped. The cellar was filling with light, a dazzling unearthly light which cascaded down the walls and across the floor and continued to grow still brighter. In his calloused hand, the star from the heavens had come to earth and was so bright he could no longer look directly at it.

       "Thank you," he breathed, and ran up the steps and into the kitchen. "Here you are, Legolas! You said you knew of nothing which could light Frodo's way, but this will!"

       Rosie and Esme emerged from the bedroom, startled that the smial was suddenly filled with blazing light. They gasped and stared in amazement, as did everyone else. Merry put an arm round Sam and hugged him. He could not see how it would help, but Sam never lost hope.

       "Call me a ninnyhammer if you like, but if anything can help guide him, it's this!"

       Legolas was deeply moved. "Sam, Gandalf was indeed correct when he called you Harthad Uluithiad. You never lose hope."

       Sam blushed. No-one but he and Frodo had ever seen the Phial at full power. Normally it gave off a gentle glow, yet now Sam's hand was bright red where the light shone through it,, showing the blood vessels. They were all overawed at the brilliance and exquisite beauty of the Lady's gift, Gimli in particular.

       "Sam, you are truly astonishing. Yes, if anyone can help Frodo now it is my Lady." He spoke almost dreamily, remembering her compassionate words to him at their first meeting, her laughter and generosity, and her gift to him of three golden hairs. Legolas had told him later that Feanor begged her for such a gift and was refused - three times! While he, Gimli, son of Gloin, had his request granted. He took the delicate piece of fine crystal, in which they were now set, from his pocket and held it up. Even that was glowing with an unnatural brightness, the hairs shimmering with a life of their own. He smiled, kissed it gently, and returned it to his pocket.

       Sam carried the Phial into the bedroom and placed it high on the chest by the window, and by draping the curtain he shaded Frodo from the intense glare. Even the light of the Phial could no longer hide the luminesence of Frodo himself. It frightened Esme to see this strange phenomena, proof, if proof were needed, that he was no longer part of the mortal world. The others kissed Frodo gently and left to rest, having made Sam promise them that he would call them when the end came. They all silently acknowledged that the end must come soon, probably during the early hours when the bonds of life were at their weakest. Sam and Rosie would take this watch, as was only fitting. They took up their stations, one on each side of the bed, and each took one of Frodo's hands. They looked at each other across his body, then looked down to watch the faint movements of his chest. Frodo was so cold now, even with hot water bottles in the bed and blankets wrapped round his feet. Sam held the limp hand between both his strong ones, kissing the fingers tenderly, and tried to call to Frodo, begging him to come back. Rosie watched him with her eyes full of tears. It would be a very long night.

                                                                *********************

       Daylight was just beginning to trickle down the curtains when Sam lifted his head from the coverlet. He was momentarily disorientated. How could he have fallen asleep on this of all nights? He berated himself furiously, because no doubt Frodo had died and he hadn't been awake. Supposing he had woken before the end and needed reassurance? Sam wept with rage at his own incompetence. On the other side of the bed Rosie had fallen asleep in much the same position, her head fallen forward, golden-brown curls tumbling over her shoulders. Why had they both slept? Now he would have to face the rest, having promised faithfully to summon them when it was time.

       He wondered if there would be anything different about Frodo in death. He had been so close for so long that it was likely he would look no different. The Elvish beauty would be the same and only the total stillness would be new. Sam struggled to pluck up the courage to turn his head and look at his friend and master. He had been dreading such a day for many months, and remembered the previous occasions when Frodo had been near to death - in Rivendell, in Shelob's lair, and after Mount Doom. Fool, Sam Gamgee, he thought to himself. He won't look no different and death's nothing to be afraid of, so get it over with and look. He turned slowly, preparing himself for the marble pallor and solemn stillness............................................................and found himself staring into a pair of cerulean blue eyes.

       "Frodo?" he said doubtfully. "Frodo?!"

       "Hello, Sam." Too weak to even whisper, he mouthed the words with a tremulous smile.

       "My Frodo!" Sam cried, and leapt up to kiss him on the forehead, his tears flowing unchecked down his ruddy cheeks. "Bless you, you're awake!"

       Rosie stirred, sat up with a gasp and stared at Sam. They had slept while poor Mr.Frodo lay dying! She would never forgive herself, and here was Sam weeping over his master's body.

       "He's come back to us, Rose-girl! Frodo's awake! He's awake!"

       She leaned over, disbelieving. Her face registered grief, shock and delight in the space of half a second, and she kissed Frodo's cheek several times, saying, "Welcome back, dear Frodo!" She was laughing and crying at the same time and could hardly contain her joy. She turned to look at the star glass, which had returned to its luminous shimmer, for its work was done. They had their miracle.

       A sound at the door attracted their attention. The others had heard voices and ventured to Frodo's room, fearing the worst. Legolas was weeping unashamedly, Pippin sobbed loudly on Merry's shoulder although Merry was in a similar state, and even Gimli's eyes were suspiciously over-bright. Esme was the first to move, running to the bed and cradling Frodo in her arms, her tears dripping on his face and into his curls.

       "Oh my boy, my boy! I begged Prim to help you back to us!"

       "Hello, Esme," he managed. "Why am I so weak?" It was too much effort even to lift his hand and wipe the tears from her cheek.

       She pulled away slightly and stroked his hair. "Darling boy, you've been so very ill. We thought........we thought...................You're going to be weak for a long time, my pet, but we'll make you strong again."

       Pippin was kissing him now, and Merry, and he was surprised to see Legolas and Gimli. What were they doing here, and why was everyone crying? He wanted to ask but he could not find the strength. There was so much he wanted to know.

      Rosie was the first to pull herself together. She fumbled for her handkerchief, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and straightened her dress. Then she spoke.

      "Give the poor dear some space, you lot! I expect he needs a drink, don't you my lamb? Then you can have a nice rest while I go and feed this hungry brood." She propped his head on her breast and held the cup to his lips. He drank eagerly, the flat water from the previous night tasting like nectar. When he had drunk two full cups she eased him onto the pillows, pulled the covers up and made him comfortable. She felt his forehead, which was neither burning hot nor freezing cold, and laughed in relief.

       Sam threw another log on the fire, and went to collect the Phial. He took it to Frodo first. "See, Frodo? I begged the Lady to guide you back to us, and she did!" He kissed his master again. "Just promise me you'll never go away again, me dear."

       Frodo smiled sleepily. "Dear Sam, I promise," he whispered.

                                       ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

mellon nin - my friend

Harthad Uluithiad - Hope Unquenchable

Frodo was called Bronwe Athan Harthad - Endurance Beyond Hope

In Gondor in 1429 SR, Rosie relates the story of Frodo's illness and recovery

November 1427 SR

       That afternoon Rosie went to see the children at the Cotton's farm while Sam sat beside Frodo's bed, happy just to watch his beloved master sleeping. He was still half afraid that Frodo would slip back into unconsciousness and could not quite bring himself to relax. He thought he would never forget the horror of the past few weeks, or the incredible moment that morning when he found Frodo still alive and awake. His eyes strayed over the fine features, pale still but without that terrible greyish tinge, and the lips which now possessed a faint trace of colour. He smiled fondly as the eyelids fluttered, and Frodo was gazing at him.

       "Hello, me dear. I didn't wake you, did I?"

       "No, Sam dear. What are you doing?" His voice was still weak and rather hoarse from lack of use, but he was smiling.

       "Just watching you sleep and thanking the Valar and anyone else I could think of for bringing you home." He leaned closer to hear Frodo's soft voice.

       "Watching me sleep can't be very entertaining for you." He tried to haul himself up on the pillows but could not manage it. Sam lifted him with infinite tenderness, tucking another pillow behind his head and rearranging the covers. "This is silly," he muttered. "Why can't I sit up?"

       "You've been so ill for a long time." He held a cup of weak, sweet tea to Frodo's lips and smiled approvingly as he drank it. "You won't be able to sit up unaided or feed yourself for a while. But helping you is a pleasure and we're all happy to do it."

       "Oh dear! You mean I must be spoon-fed, like baby Merry?" He sounded so woeful that Sam chuckled. "I'll never live it down." Another thought struck him. "Where is everyone? Or did I imagine lots of people earlier? Did I really see Legolas and Gimli?"

       "Yes, they're here. Now don't talk too much and tire yourself. They were on their way from Gondor to Mirkwood and decided to pay us a visit. When they found out you were ill they stayed to help, and I must say Mister Gimli makes quite a good nurse. No, don't laugh, I mean it! Merry and Pip have been here for weeks, and so has Mistress Brandybuck...........er...... Esme, although I don't rightly think I should be calling her that............"

       "How long have I been ill?"

        "Almost six weeks.............................well, you've been seriously ill for that long, but you've been ill for about a year really. Do you remember anything?"

       Frodo thought for a moment. "Fragments....................it's all a bit confused at the moment. I .........I did something silly,.......didn't I? To my shoulder?"

       "Well, perhaps it weren't so silly after all. It turned right nasty for three weeks and swelled up, but when it burst, all this horrible looking black stuff came out, and since then it's healed nicely. How does it feel?" He dabbed a little beeswax on Frodo's lips to prevent them becoming cracked and sore.

"It feels fine - a little sore, but..........normal. I can't feel that little piece of..........I don't know what it was, but it was like a seed of evil............"

       "Well, it's gone. Now you rest, stop talking and have another nap. I'll come back soon, and bring you another drink. That was the most difficult thing, getting enough fluid down you. At least that isn't a problem any more."

       "I'm sorry I've been such a nuisance." Frodo rested his hand on Sam's and looked very serious. "I must have caused you all a lot of worry."

       "Bless you, me love, you could never be a nuisance. We were all worried but that's only because we love you so much. And it was all worthwhile because here you are."

       "Sam.......one thing I do remember..........I was wandering alone in the darkness, lost and frightened, and suddenly there was a bright light for me to follow. You brought me home, dear, dear Sam." He smiled as Sam bent to kiss him. "Your love saved me before and it has saved me again. Thank you.............." He stopped, overcome with emotion, tears welling in the vivid blue eyes.

       "Hush. Don't you upset yourself." Sam stroked his face lovingly. "I'm just glad it worked. I asked the Lady to help us and she heard me. I was that desperate.................. You rest now, we want you fit and well. Is there anything you need?"

       Frodo shook his head. "I have everything I need, Sam. I know that now."

       When Sam left, Frodo looked about him. It was as though the terrible fog he had been lost in for years had lifted, blown away. Everything looked so clear to him. From his bed he could see the late afternoon sun gilding the trees, and it was almost as though he was seeing the sight for the first time. The sheer beauty took his breath away; such vivid loveliness he thought had been lost to him forever. He blinked on sudden tears of joy and relief, too weak to find a handkerchief and wipe them away. He did not know quite why the world looked different but he was not about to complain.

       He settled back and closed his eyes. He thought about the strange dreams he had had during his illness, keen to make sense of them. The fact that he was still here suggested that the Valar wanted him to live, and to reject that gift would be very ungrateful and selfish. He remembered being hopelessly lost and alone in darkness, longing only for an end to his misery, and somewhere in his mind was a memory of his parents, and Gandalf and Galadriel. It was very confusing, but the guilt and shame he had lived with for so long were no longer inside him. It was as though they had been burned and scoured away. There would always be some pain to deal with, but all creatures had some private griefs. He could cope with that. He was loved by those here and he realised that he should accept their love. He had to stop pushing people away when they wished to offer help and comfort. He had been left empty by the loss of the Ring but he had to stop believing that nothing could ever fill him again, particularly when he had friends and family so eager to give whatever they had. One phrase echoed in his head, in Gandalf's voice. "You have to forgive yourself, dear boy. Others have forgiven you because there is really nothing to forgive. Each of us can only do our best and hope it is enough. You did more than your best, and it was more than enough. Let it go now." He sighed gently and relaxed, slipping slowly towards sleep. He remembered his mother's voice telling him how proud she was and he knew he was deeply loved by his parents and would see them again one day. He had often wondered where hobbits went when they died and now he knew beyond any doubt that Iluvatar, who sang the world into creation, had ensured a place for them. He had been given a glimpse of something very special and he knew he must accept it as a gift from the Valar.

                                                                                  *************

       Rose found the children in very sombre mood. She had visited them two days previously and warned them that Uncle Frodo was very ill and probably going to die, and they had taken the news badly. Elanor was deeply distressed and begged to be allowed back to Bag End to say good-bye, which upset Rose even more. Fro did not really understand the concept of death, but he was frightened by his mother's tears, and Rosie-lass cried because everyone else was crying. It had been very traumatic. They had hardly played, and ate little, thinking of Uncle Fro not being there ever again. Ellie promised never to be naughty again if only he would get better.. She scowled at the thought of the awful being who had made that nasty Ring, and hoped he knew how much she hated him, whever he was.

       Little Rosie had been napping on Gammer Cotton's lap and sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and half about to cry. The older ones were playing rather unenthusiastically in a corner. Rosie's twin brother Wilicom, known since birth as Jolly, smiled sympathetically as his sister entered.

       "How're things, lass?" He was startled when Rose flung her arms round him and laughed.

       "Hello, my darlings! Uncle Frodo's awake! He's going to get well!"

       In seconds Fro and Elanor were dancing round her, cheering, while little Rosie tugged on her skirts and jumped up and down, chanting, "Wanna see Fo! Wanna see Fo!" It took several minutes and the promise of biscuits and lemonade before they calmed down sufficiently for Rosie to tell the story of the Lady's star-glass and Sam's determination. She explained that Uncle Frodo was still very weak and tired and that the children could come home in a day or two, but they had to promise to be quiet and not disturb him. He would need rest and quiet for a long time.

       She walked back home in a cheerful mood, imparting the good news to those who asked, and to those who did not. Just let them say anything about Frodo, or speak derisively, and they could have a piece of her mind to feast upon!

                                                                                 **************

       Frodo spent most of the first few days sleeping, but it was a healing sleep. He was taking plenty of liquids and Rosie made chicken and mushroom broth for him,as a change from water, fruit juice and weak tea. He had drunk it gratefully and thanked her for looking after him so well. Now she wondered what else she could prepare to tempt his appetite.

       On the third day she went into his room with a little dish. He smiled at her as she sat on the bed and felt his forehead, then checked his pulse, which was growing stronger every day.

       "What have you got there?" he asked, eyeing the dish. She smirked slightly.

       "One of your favourites - egg custard, made just the way you like it, with nutmeg on the top. Thought you could do with a change." He looked interested. "Of course, I'll have to spoon it down you.............you won't mind that though, will you?"

       "I suppose I have no choice if I want it - which I do! Just don't go scraping the spoon up my chin like you do with the little ones!"

       "You promise not to dribble it down your chin and I promise not to scrape it up again!" she chuckled. "Do you think you'll need a bib?"

       "Very funny." He grinned at her. "And I promise not to spit it at you, the way Ellie used to do with cabbage!"

       "Well that's very considerate. I can see we'll get along really well, you being so well-behaved!" She took a small amount on the spoon and held it to his lips. It was every bit as good as anything else Rosie cooked. He ate all of it under her smiling gaze, and when the dish was empty she ruffled his hair and said, "Good lad! Keep this up and we'll have you running around Hobbiton in no time!"

       On her way back to the kitchen, Rosie thought about how she spoke to Frodo. He was no longer Mister Frodo; she thought of him as close family, a brother, or even a child at the moment while he was so helpless. He had a sweet vulnerability which appealed to her maternal instincts, and he had expressed no objection to her familiarity. Even Sam had stopped calling him Mister Frodo lately. It was nice, she decided.

                                                                                 *************

       Fatty Bolger was allowed to see Frodo four days after he woke up. He was thrilled to see his cousin awake but had been unable to disguise his shock at Frodo's appearance. When he had departed Frodo caught a glimpse of himself in the dressing mirror and recoiled.

       "Good grief! I look awful! No wonder Fatty was horrified. I'll frighten the children if they see me like this!"

       "Of course you won't frghten them. You look pale and hollow-eyed, of course but what do you expect after being so ill?" Merry plumped the pillows and held a cup of fruit juice to Frodo's lips.

       "My hair looks disgusting. My mother always said it looked like a bird's nest in the mornings. I dread to think what she'd say to this! It feels matted and horrible, and I need a bath. I must smell by now."

       "Stop fussing, pumpkin. You'll tire yourself out. We did wash and bathe you, you know, so you're not that dirty," Esme pointed out mildly as she folded nightshirts and returned them to their place in the chest of drawers.

       "I insist on a bath and a hair wash before the children come home," Frodo slurred, his eyes drooping closed.

       "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm," Esme murmured. "Make him feel better to be clean and fresh and with all those tangles combed out. He used to squirm and grumble about having his hair combed in the mornings. He'd fix me with those huge eyes and pout in an effort to get out of it." She chuckled. "Perhaps Legolas can lift him and take him to and from the bath if we make sure everywhere is nice and warm. Rose and I can change the sheets at the same time."

       Later that day Legolas scooped Frodo from his bed and carried him into the bathroom, Merry and Pippin removed his nightshirt and he was lowered into fragrant water, sighing happily at the sensation. He was not too embarrassed, having bathed with other members of the Fellowship while on their travels, and the Buckland hobbits always swam naked anyway, but he was rather mortified to discover he was still too weak to soap himself. The Elf took the soap and began to lather the flannel while Frodo closed his eyes and felt a hot tide of scarlet flow up his neck and face.

       "Sorry. You should not have to wash me, Legolas. I don't wish to embarrass you."

       The merry laughter made him blush even more. "I'm sorry, Frodo, but I'm not the one who is embarrassed here! Do not worry, my dear friend. This counts as part of my nursing duties."

       "Hmmmm. I'll try and do the.......er.......intimate bits myself, if I can."

       "Oh stop faffing about like a maiden aunt when her bloomers have fallen down!" chortled Pippin.

       "Or a virgin of the Marish caught skinny-dipping in the Brandywine. I'll come over there and wash you if you don't stop moaning!" Merry folded towels and placed them in front of the fire to keep them warm.

       "Charming!" Frodo pretended to glare at his irrepressible cousins.

       "Still grumbling, is he?" said Esme, popping in and draping a clean nightshirt over the chair. Her voice prompted a startled squeak from Frodo as he tried to hide under the water and cover himself with the soap.

       "Esme? You're not supposed to be here!"

       "No dear, but I'm not going to see anything I haven't seen before," she murmured. "I bathed you when you were little, remember?" She left, closing the door to keep the warmth in.

       Frodo huffed and settled back, enjoying the smell of the lavender oil and the soothing feel of lather on his skin. Sam set a chair at the head of the bath and began to wash the dark curls, trying not to pull on the knots as he did so. It felt good to be really clean.

       "Don't keep him in there too long," Rose admonished, and Frodo yelped and deployed the soap again, cursing fluently in Sindarin and causing Legolas to drop the flannel.

       "Why didn't you just put a bathtub out in the Party Field and invite the whole of Hobbiton?!" he muttered, pinking furiously.

       "No need for such modesty. Who do you think sponged you down when you were ill? Stop fussing! I'm averting my eyes."

       "Pity," said Merry. "It's very entertaining watching someone try to protect their modesty with a bar of soap!"

       Rosie's wicked chuckle echoed down the passage as she walked away.

      Sam smiled and rinsed the soap from Frodo's hair. Legolas lifted him out of the bath and he was wrapped in warm towels, patted dry and transferred back to bed. The sheets had been changed and the new linen was crisp and fresh as he snuggled in. Sam combed some of the tangles but decided not to tire his master too much. The rest would keep until later.

       "Thank you," Frodo whispered. "That feels so much better." He smiled at Sam and Legolas, and was asleep in seconds.

                                                                                 *************

       The children had been on their best behaviour since their return. They had been quiet and gentle around Frodo, creeping in when they could and simply curling up with him. He was very amused and touched by their efforts, and conspired with them to sneak them in when Rose was otherwise occupied. He liked having them there snuggled against him, little warm bodies burrowing close, holding his hands and calling him "Uncle Fro."

       Elanor wandered into his room and walked carefully towards the bed, her tongue curling out of the side of her mouth in concentration.

       "Now what have you brought me?" he enquired, smiling at the delicately beautiful little hobbit child. She beamed back at him, and sat on the bed, her little golden-furred feet swinging gently.

       "Your afters. Mum said you'd be ready for it after a sleep. Did you have a nice nap?" He nodded, and hid his smile as she felt his face and hands for signs of fever, and checked his pulse as she had seen her mother do.

       "You're............ not intending to .................feed me, are you?" he said finally.

       "Of course. You're not strong enough to feed yourself yet. I do know how to do it - I've fed little Rosie."

       "Oh dear. I hope you're not out for revenge over the time I managed to get carrot and parsnip puree up your nose when you were tiny?"

       Her laughter was like the pealing of tiny Elven bells, and in the kitchen Rosie and Sam smiled at each other.

       "So what is it - my afters?" He peered at the bowl, trying to work out what she had brought him.

       "Blackberry fool. Mum said it's one of your favourites, and we picked loads of blackberries and kept them in the ice well. Mum's making jam with some of them, I think." She dipped the spoon into the fluffy mauve concoction and held it out to him.

       When he had finished, she slid down and kissed him. Then she trotted back to the kitchen, placed the bowl in the sink, and went in search of the others. Quietly they made their way down the passage and in to Frodo's room, where they clambered up on the bed.

       " 'Lo, Fo!" Rosie-lass squealed, all rosy apple-cheeks and dimpled smile. She crawled along the quilt and wrapped herself around her uncle's arm.

       "Hello, Rose-bud," he said delightedly as the little girl kissed him gently and snuggled down beside him. Ellie and Fro joined her, and when Sam looked in ten minutes later, all four were sound asleep. Their father stood in the doorway, his eyes prickling with tears of joy. Rose joined him, and smiled.

       "Come on," she whispered, and led him back to the kitchen. "They're fine where they are. He seems happy enough to have them there, and it means they're quiet for a while. They love him very much, and it's wonderful to have them back. We're a family again."

                                                                                 ***************

       By the time Yule arrived, Frodo was able to sit up unaided and feed himself, much to Ellie's disappointment. She wanted Uncle Fro to be well, but she enjoyed feeding him and fussing over him. It made her feel very grown-up. They were busy preparing the house, decorating it with all the evergreen plants to welcome the turn of the year and remind themselves of the rebirth of dormant life. Sam felt he needed no reminders this year, since he had the best one of all in Frodo's presence. Here indeed was a re-birth. He sang as he stood on the ladder, attaching bits of greenery to the doorframe of Frodo's bedroom while the children and the cat directed operations from their places on the bed.

       "Should the Mayor be standing on a ladder, with no weskit on and his braces showing?" Frodo enquired mischievously.

       "Don't see how else this is going to get done," laughed Sam. "Unless the Master of Bag End wants to do it!"

       "Next year," he promised. "I should be up to it by then. I hate being this helpless - it's silly." He was rather frustrated because he was still unable to walk around or even stand. His legs had collapsed under him when he tried and he had clung to Sam, feeling like a very wobbly new-born lamb.

       "You will be. You mustn't rush things - it's not much over a month since you woke up, me dear." Sam climbed down and stood back to survey his handiwork.

       "Very nice, Sam," said Merry admiringly. He placed a tray on the bedside table. "Your elevenses, sir." He bowed to Frodo, and the children giggled.

       "The doctor left you a bottle of tonic," added Pippin, dodging round the ladder. "Oooh, mistletoe! I'm claiming a kiss!" He grabbed Sam and planted a smacker on his cheek, while the children whooped and howled.

       "I'm telling Mum - Uncle Pip's kissing Dad!" yelled Frodo-lad, his hazel eyes alight with glee.

       "Put him down, Pip! He's spoken for!" cried Frodo. "Rosie will be after you with the tea towel!"

       Merry recoiled in mock distress and feigned a half-swoon. "It's the Mayor! Oh the scandal!"

       "Oh come here, Merry dear. Can't have all this jealousy. I can't help being irresistible! Ellie! I demand a kiss from you and the fair lady Rose-bud. Mustn't leave young Fro out either. And I'd better grab a kiss from your uncle too - he is the most handsome hobbit in the Shire after all!"

       "Fool of a Took! I look a total fright these days." He grinned ruefully. "I must look terrible."

       "Just pale and interesting, dear," Merry said with a smile.

       Pippin dropped a kiss on the cat's head and Rufus rolled over, purring loudly.

       When everyone had been thoroughly kissed, Pippin waved the large bottle under Frodo's nose. Frodo looked very doubtful; he knew enough about medicines to know they were usually foul. Pippin poured some into a spoon and held it out. Frodo took it, against his better judgement, and spent the next few minutes coughing and spluttering and trying not to be sick.

       "Urgh! That's disgusting! What on earth is in it? Is there a doctor or apothecary anywhere who can make up palatable mixtures?"

       Pippin laughed. "You know what they say. If it doesn't taste bad it isn't doing you good!" He uncorked the bottle and sniffed. "Pheweee! Smells like cats' pee!"

       "Then it smells better than it tastes!" said Frodo firmly.

       "So how would you describe this cheeky little vintage?" asked Merry, teasing Frodo for his apreciation of fine wine.

       "Hmmm. A dark undertone of brackish pond water, with a lingering top note of decomposing cow carcase, and something like stinkwort seems to be in there too!" He grabbed the teacup from the tray and drank hastily to expunge the taste.

       "Sounds lovely. We'd best order a case!" Sam said, and Rosie, Esme, Estella and Diamond could hear the laughter from the kitchen.

                                                                                 *************

       On first Yule there was great excitement at Bag End. It was a special day in many ways, and it was to be Frodo's first day up. Normally they would have gone to Buckland or Tuckborough for a huge family celebration, or spent it at the Cotton's farm, but it was nice to spend it here, just the family. Esme had returned to Brandy Hall, Merry and Pip and their wives had gone back to Crickhollow, and Legolas and Gimli had departed for Mirkwood some weeks before, with promises to look in again on their return journey. Sam had written to the King to tell him the good news of Frodo's recovery. He had found that letter very easy to write, but he remembered the terrible night he and Pippin had written to inform Aragorn of Frodo's likely death. They sat together at the desk in the study, weeping as they wrote, and trying not to blot the letters with their tears. Sam wondered how Yule was celebrated in Gondor and Ithilien, but he was sure there could be no finer place to celebrate than here, with his loved ones around him and Frodo getting better every day.

       Rosie was busy preparing the meal. Sam had peeled the potatoes while she sliced carrots and parsnips and broke cauliflower into florets. She was basting the goose when she heard loud laughter in the passage. Scooping baby Merry from his cradle, she went to see what the fuss was about, and saw little Rosie dancing down the passage, trailing ribbons and singing. Behind her they had formed a procession. Rufus was chasing the ribbons, Frodo-lad was carrying a blanket and Ellie had two pillows, and behind her came Sam carrying Frodo. The baby stretched out his chubby little arms to his uncle and the procession halted while Frodo made a fuss of him. Then they went into the parlour where a fire was already blazing, and Sam lowered his master onto the couch while the children arranged pillows and covered him with the blanket. Frodo leaned back and beamed at them. He was wearing a beautiful Elven silk nightshirt, which Rosie had altered to fit him better, so it no longer slid off his thin shoulders when he moved. Over it he wore a dark blue dressing gown, which brought out the restored colour of his eyes. He was still far too pale and slender, but his eyes had lost their sunken appearance and sparkled with life.

       The children were almost beside themselves. Uncle Frodo was in the parlour, Gaffer was coming, and there was to be goose for dinner. Sam was delighted that his father was coming to Bag End for Yule dinner. Widow Rumble had wanted to go to her daughter's for the day, but was unhappy about leaving the old man. The rest of the family had offered him hospitality but Gaffer was very proud to have been invited to dine with Mr. Frodo and had declined all other offers.

       "Thank you for letting my old Gaffer come today," Sam said as he fussed with the pillows.

       "Oh Sam, he's more than welcome, you know that."

       A knock at the front door caused the children to run down the passage, shouting at the tops of their voices. Sam rolled his eyes and went to reprimand them but Frodo shook his head, laughing. Minutes later Gaffer stepped in, somewhat nervously. He still thought of himself as a servant and was not quite at ease in Bag End's splendid parlour. He was deafer than ever, but Frodo enunciated very clearly and he had little trouble understanding him.

       "Mornin', Mr. Frodo. It's good ter see you up and about, sir." He shook Frodo's hand.

       "Hello, Mr. Gamgee. It's very good to see you again. Well, I'm up but not quite about yet." He gestured to the large armchair near the fire. "Do sit down and make yourself comfortable. I think Sam has gone to fetch a cask of ale."

       Gaffer Gamgee was not sure he should be sitting in the best armchair, but he supposed that if the Master of Bag End said so, then it was alright. By the time Sam returned with three mugs of ale, he was chatting away quite easily. Sam handed round the mugs.

       "Oooh! I get some, do I?" said Frodo delightedly.

       "Of course you do! Did you think you'd be left out?" Sam laughed. Frodo turned to Gaffer as Rose walked in and kissed her father-in-law.

       "There's goose for dinner, but hard-hearted Rose has decreed that it is much too rich for me." He pouted at her. "I have to make do with mashed potato and gravy." He contrived to look very hard done by. Rosie leaned over the back of the couch and tapped his lower lip with her finger.

       "You can put that away! I never said you'd have to make do with mashed potato, did I? All I said was, goose is too rich, which it is. I'm cooking chicken for you!" She laughed at the expression on his face, and returned to the kitchen, still giggling.

       The table was laid in the dining room, which was only used on special occasions. Candles were lit and the best china, glasses and cutlery were found. Sam had made a display of holly and ivy for the centre of the table and everyone was admiring the effect. The Yule log burned brightly in the grate, bound with fragrant leaves and herbs which filled the room with the rich aomas of the woods and meadows. Frodo's couch was placed near the fire and a little table stood next to it.

       "I could try sitting at the table," he offered, but neither Sam nor Rose would hear of it.

       "You'll stay right where you are, Frodo Baggins. I won't have you overdoing things on your first day up." Rosie brought his dinner. She had cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces and mashed the potato and cauliflower together with milk and butter, just as he liked it, then poured gravy over. She handed him a spoon. "Much easier to use a spoon when you're reclining."

       Sam brought a glass of South Farthing wine, and Frodo was very happy. He ate dinner and even found room for a little more. Then there was apple pie with cream, and after that Sam vanished for five minutes and returned bearing a large bowl of mulled wine. Frodo started giggling.

       "It looks as though you put half the contents of the fruit and vegetable rack in there! Oh my, this is splendid! Am I allowed some of that too, or do I just get to admire it?"

       "You are certainly allowed some - can't have you missing out on the mulled wine, can we, especially after you ate such a good dinner." Rosie beamed at him and handed him one of the little cups. They toasted everyone they could think of, including the King and Queen of Gondor, the King and Queen of Rohan, the Prince and Princess of Ithilien and those friends across the sea who were out of sight but never far from their minds and hearts. Most of all, they drank to Frodo's health, until he was blushing and squirming and laughing.

       After dinner he was tranferred back to the cosy parlour, while Sam and Rose cleared the table. When they returned to the parlour they found Gaffer dozing in the armchair, and Frodo, the children and the cat all asleep on the couch. Baby Merry was lying frog-like on his stomach, sprawled on Frodo's chest, and the older ones were snuggled close. Rose smiled fondly. Sam's face shone with contentment, his emotions overflowing.

       That evening, after tea and sandwiches, cake and biscuits and cold cuts, Sam walked his Gaffer home, saw him in and stoked up the fire. Then he strolled back up the hill, whistling cheerfully. As he entered the smial the sound of laughter filled his ears, and he almost ran down the passage to join his loved ones. The mistletoe caught his eye and he grabbed Rosie and pulled her close for a lingering kiss while the children cheered. Merry-lad gurgled and crowed, waving his hands and bouncing gently on Frodo's lap. Then Rosie whispered something, and Sam took some of the mistletoe and held it above Frodo's head while she leaned in for a kiss.

       "I think he enjoyed that, lass. Do you want to give him another?" Sam was grinning from ear to ear.

       "Reckon I do," Rosie replied, and did so, cradling the back of his head to pull him closer. She laughed at his blush and briefly wondered if she had gone too far, but he hooked his arm round her neck and hugged her hard.

       The children all demanded kisses too, despite Sam telling them the mistletoe would be worn out by now, and by the time everyone had kissed everyone else, they were all giggling hysterically.

       "Dad has to kiss Uncle Fro now," Frodo-lad cried, and Sam willingly obliged.

       Frodo collapsed back on his pillows, laughing. "I'm all kissed out now!" he protested. "And so's that poor sprig of mistletoe!"

       Sam grinned. "Have to do it again tomorrow!" He smirked. "Reckon we'll have you dancing the Springle-ring pretty soon!"

       Frodo's eyes twinkled and they all chorused, " 'A pretty dance, but rather vigorous!' " and started giggling again.

       "Oh! I've had a lovely day!" Frodo stretched luxuriously. "I feel so spoiled and cared for. I was a fool not to see it before, but I was so wrapped up in myself I couldn't see anything else. Can you forgive me?" He held out his hands and they all went to him at once. Little Rosie hung drowsily round his neck and his young namesake climbed onto the couch at his feet. They all reached out and hugged him.

       "Nothing to forgive, dear. We just want you well and happy, because when you're happy, so are we." Sam squeezed his hand, and then said, "I think there's some little ones here who can start thinking about bed."

       Frodo yawned. "Hmmm. Not just the little ones, I'm afraid. Come on, folks, it really is bedtime, and your poor old Uncle Fro is tired too. There's another day tomorrow."

                                                                                 ***************

       "Parcel for Mr. Baggins!"

       A loud knocking at the door was followed by a familiar voice, and Sam opened the door to a grinning Merry and Pippin clutching a large box. They staggered inside and set it down, puffing slightly.

       "Phew!" said Pippin, mopping his face with a handkerchief. "What's Aragorn put in there? Logs?"

       "Aragorn? The parcel's from the King?" asked Sam. "Why didn't you say so?" He helped Merry to lift it and they carried it into the kitchen. Frodo was already half off the couch, eager to open the parcel.

       "Letters too," Pippin said, and bowed as he handed them over.

       Frodo was in a dilemma, not knowing whether to open the letters first or the box. Eventually he did both, with Sam's help. The letters spoke of Aragorn's joy and relief at Frodo's recovery and were full of concern. Frodo suspected that the King had used the palantir to see the outcome of his illness as he seemed very well-informed. There were letters from Arwen and Faramir too, all expressing delight at his progress. The parcel was full of gifts - toys for the children, a beautiful piece of silk for Rosie to make into a dress, books for Frodo, seeds and a book on the plants of Ithilien for Sam. There were sweetmeats also, and a huge supply of oranges, which Frodo had enjoyed in Gondor after the War. They did not grow in the Shire, but they were found in abundance in the South.

       Rosie was delighted with the silk, which seemed to change colour in the light which flowed over it like water. It was exquisite, and as she was the wife of the Mayor she had to attend meetings and events. This would put the old gossips' noses out of joint!

       Pippin had a letter too, which he tucked into his jacket in a mysterious fashion. Ale was poured, pipes lit and soon they were all grouped around the table, chatting. Sam went to fetch more logs and returned to announce that it was snowing heavily. Rosie produced her famous parsnip pie, and they settled down for the afternoon, snug and warm while the snow fell thickly on the gardens and fields of the Shire. The children had carried off their new toys and were playing quietly, the baby slept in his cradle, and Rosie sat rocking before the fire with a basket of mending beside her, moving only to retrieve cotton reels from a playful Rufus.

       Later, she and Frodo watched from the window as Sam, Merry, Pip and the children ran around in the snow, building snow hobbits and animals and hurling it at each other. The children brought some snow for their uncle to see and touch, and later they trooped inside for mulled wine and supper, faces glowing.

       Merry and Pip left after breakfast the next morning, saying only that they had to do something for the King.

       When asked what it was they merely smiled in an infuriating manner and tapped their noses, knowing full well that the inhabitants of Bag End were beside themselves with curiosity.

                                                                                 ************

        A few days after the parcel from Gondor, Frodo was resting on the couch and reading to the children. They sat in a row on the rug, faces upturned, mouths agape, eyes wide as they listened to the story about a wicked witch and a princess who pricked her finger and went to sleep for a hundred years. He liked reading aloud, changing his voice for the characters, and frightening them deliciously with the scary bits.

       The door opened and Rosie entered. The snow had melted as quickly as it had arrived, and the lanes were muddy. She went into the garden room and washed the dirt from her feet before padding through to the kitchen, where it was cosy and warm.

       "I met old Ma Proudfoot just now and you'll never guess what happened," she announced to the assembled company. "She gave me four jars of her rhubarb and ginger jam and said, 'That's for dear Mr. Baggins! Do wish the poor dear well for me. The ginger will be good for his delicate stomach, bless him!'"

       Frodo's mouth fell open. "Eh? 'Dear Mr. Baggins'? Are we talking about the same Mrs. Proudfoot here? The one who stalks past with her nose in the air? And how does she know I have a delicate stomach?" He ran the words through his mind again. "She never gives away her jam! It's famous - it wins prizes every year at the fair. Why would she give some to me? Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

       "P'raps folk have learned to appreciate you, me dear," remarked Sam from his seat in the corner. "And not before time, I'd say."

       Frodo grinned and went in search of the bread.

       Two days later, Sam came back from a shopping trip to Bywater, and placed a basket on the table. "This must be catching," he remarked. "I bumped into Mrs. Bracegirdle.............," he paused while the children made rude noises and held their noses, Mrs Bracegirdle being one of the less popular Shire residents as far as the Gamgee children were concerned, "................................and she gave me one of her steak and mushroom pies - 'For your lovely Mr. Baggins. I do hope he's feeling better now. When he's well you must all come and have dinner with us!' " Sam's impersonation of Mrs Bracegirdle reduced the children to giggles.

       Frodo looked baffled. "What is going on? We can expect baskets of mushrooms from Mrs Maggot, but Mrs. Bracegirdle? And Mrs. Proudfoot? I'm beginning to wonder what this is all about. And Rosie said Emilia Boffin called by with a batch of jam tarts and some fresh-baked bread." He appeared lost in thought for a few moments, then brightened. "I think I know who to ask!"

                                                                                 ************

       "Us?" Pippin squeaked. "Why would you think we'd know anything?" He glared at Merry and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "Merry! Help me out here!"

       "Ummmm. Why should we know, Fro?" Merry assumed an innocent expression and cast a glance at the ceiling.

       "Meriadoc! You forget I know all your expressions. You tried that one on me twenty years ago and it didn't work then. What have you two been up to?" He found himself eye to chin with his cousin but it didn't deter him. Pippin tried to sneak out of the room while Frodo's attention was on Merry, but he was wise to that. Without turning round he said, "Pippin! Where do you think you're going?"

       "The.........er.........the...privy?" Pippin replied suddenly.

       "You can wait! I insist you tell me...........now!"

       "We're going to have to tell him, Pip. He's getting that stern look." Merry pinched Frodo's cheek. "He's just so cute when he does that!" He laughed at Frodo's expression. "Alright, Fro. It's Aragorn's fault really."

       "Aragorn! What does he have to do with the goodwives of Hobbiton and Bywater showering me with food?"

       "Well, he was very upset about you being ill, and he's been even more hurt by the way you've been ignored while we've been fussed over. You know what people are like in the Shire - what have events "down South" got to do with them? Well, once you were on the mend, Aragorn sent a letter to the Shire - a sort of proclamation, explaining what you did, and he asked us to read it to everyone and explain why you'd been so ill."

       "He said he wanted you to be appreciated. He was quite angry that Shirefolk weren't helping you, so we've been round the Shire, reading the King's letter and explaining just how wonderful you are," Pippin finished, and looked nervously at his cousin. Frodo had wanted no attention while he carried all that guilt and shame. How would he feel now?

       Frodo was quiet for a long time. Everyone waited to see if he would be upset or angry. He sat down at the table and propped his chin on his hand, thinking very carefully. The rest of the company glanced warily at each other, and were horrified to see Frodo lean forward with his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Pippin and Sam both went to him, stricken that he was so upset.

       "There, there, me dear, don't take on so. I'm sure Aragorn meant well.............."

       Frodo raised his head, and they realised that he was indeed crying - with laughter. Helpless giggles welled up and spilled over, and the more he tried to stop, the more he chuckled, until finally he was clutching his ribs.

       "Oh Aragorn!" he gasped. "What an utterly ridiculous idea! Oh my stars! I'll wager he never thought it would lead to the Shire womenfolk trying to fatten me up like a Yuletide goose!"

       Relieved, the others allowed their own amusement to erupt, and the kitchen was filled with the sound of uproarious laughter.

                                                              ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In Gondor in 1429, Rosie continues with her tale.

March 1428 SR

Sam felt the tension rise in him as March 13th approached. Frodo had been doing so well it would be terrible if he suffered a setback now. Sam found himself watching his master intently for signs of pain or distress, a distant look in his eyes, a spasm of pain in his neck. It had been a wet and windy March so far, and Sam had been kept busy with Mayoral duties rather than working in the garden. He tried to think optimistically but Rose knew he was worried, and so was she.To their relief and surprise the day came and went without incident. Frodo was perhaps a little sleepy, but otherwise he betrayed no signs of discomfort. In fact he himself had not noticed the date, and did not realise the 13th had passed until three days later.

       "Sam, what's the date today? I've lost all track of time, being indoors so long."

       "The sixteenth, m'dear.......of Rethe."

       "Oh! Then............I was alright on the thirteenth, wasn't I? Oh Sam, I didn't even notice!" He looked shocked, relieved and very happy. Sam took his hand for a moment and squeezed it.

       "Yes, thank the Valar! We didn't want to say anything but we were all holding our breath for you. I think you slept a bit more, but otherwise you seemed fine."

       Frodo laughed, a sound more beautiful to Sam than all the Elven music he had ever heard. "I've been practising my walking. I know the passageways of Bag End a little too well now, but at least my legs don't shake under me anymore. I do so want to go out again." He went to the cradle to fetch the fractious baby, who was teething. "The children will want to go on picnics and berrying expeditiions soon and I can't be left behind. I've spent too much time shut away and missed all the fun, and I don't want to be the boring old invalid uncle who never goes anywhere and is no fun!" He bounced Merry-lad gently on his knee. ."You don't want a boring old uncle, do you?" The baby dribbled, blew a long stream of bubbles and made a sudden grab for Frodo's pipe. "Whoa! No you don't, my lad!"

       "You'll be out soon enough. Don't want you catching a chill in that wind. When the sun's out and the wind drops perhaps we'll settle you on the seat with a blanket over you, and you can watch me do the weeding." Sam poured more tea, and rose to check the oven, where Rosie's latest batch of bread was baking.

       "Glad to see you both working so hard while I'm shopping!" said a voice, and Rosie was standing in the doorway, smiling. She carried a full basket on her arm, and some extra packages, which she handed to Frodo. "More from your admirers," she laughed. "All anxious that I convey their respects to "dear Mr Baggins" and tell you how much they long to see you out and about again!"

       Frodo grinned, and undid the various parcels, revealing pies, cakes, jams and the Valar knew what else. "Look at it this way, Rose-flower, at least it means you have less cooking to do! This is another of Mrs. Bracegirdle's steak and mushroom pies I believe, and I think it's long past lunchtime." He took three forks from the drawer and handed them round. "Tuck in, there's plenty."

       Behind his back, Rosie and Sam exchanged a smile. This was the Frodo they had longed to see.

                                                                           ************

       Frodo still had an occasional nightmare. Sometimes he woke with a start, his heart beating wildly for a moment. Now, however, he could put them aside and not remain lost in the horror for hours or days, as he used to. He would look around his bedroom, reassure himself that all was well, then settle back to sleep, or read for a little while. One afternoon he woke suddenly with a gasp, sitting up and looking around wildly before falling back on the pillows in relief. As he did so he realised he was not alone. Elanor was sitting solemnly by his bed, her brow furrowed in concern. He sat up again, and held out his hand to her.

       "It's alright, Ellie-girl. Just a bad dream and it's gone now." She burrowed against him and he draped an arm round her.

       "I thought you didn't have them any more?" She looked upset, her lower lip quivering.

       "I think I'll always have the odd one. Everyone does sometimes, dear. Even little Rose-bud has them, and she's only a baby."

       "Does it mean you're not really better?" she asked tremulously. "I thought you were going to be well for ever?"

       "I am, my lamb. I can cope with these dreams. No life is without some pain, it's part of living. If we don't feel pain we haven't truly lived. Do you understand? We learn something from all the painful things in our lives."

       She shook her head. "No. Pain isn't a good thing."

       "No, it isn't, but it teaches us something.. When you fell and cut your knee on the cellar steps, what did you learn?"

       She thought for a moment, her finger half in her mouth. "Not to run on stairs?" she said at last.

       He laughed. "Exactly! And when your brother burned his hand on the stove, what do you think he learned?"

       "That the stove is hot." She clapped her hands. "I think I see, Uncle Fro!"

       "Ah! But when Uncle Jolly tripped over that hidden log in the snow last winter and broke his wrist, was that his fault?"

       Elanor was silent for some minutes. "I don't think so...........," she said slowly. "Unless it was his fault not to be looking for hidden logs?"

       Frodo chuckled. "No, I don't think it was, Ellie-flower. I think in that instance your uncle was a victim of circumstance. And it would be silly if he went round for years saying it was his fault when it wasn't, wouldn't it?"

       He lifted her chin with his finger and thumb and looked directly into her eyes, and she nodded. "Well I was like that, blaming myself for things I couldn't help, things over which I had no control. What happened to me wasn't my fault. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time really. These things happen. No use crying over spilt milk, as your mum would say." He stretched. "Nightmares are fine if you know it's a nightmare and can turn over and go back to sleep again. The problems come when you get lost in them. I don't get lost in mine anymore, because I know you and your mum and dad and the others are waiting for me. So you see, I am well." He kissed the top of her head and she draped her arms round his neck and hugged him tightly.

       "I'm hungry," she said suddenly, jumping off the bed. "It's tea-time!" She ran to the door, pausing to hold her hand out to him. "Come on, or it will all be gone!"

       He rolled off the bed and followed her to the kitchen, smiling broadly.

                                                                            ************

       Over the next few weeks there was much to celebrate. Elanor's birthday was a joyous occasion as she handed out presents to the family and friends. With Rosie's help she had found a beautiful little book at the booksellers in Bywater, and Frodo was deeply moved by the gift, a selection of Elven children's stories. He held the child close and they both had tears in their eyes.

       "Now I can read to you and teach you Elvish at the same time, Ellie-girl."

       There was loud laughter when she gave Pippin a recipe book. He liked to read about food almost as much as he liked to eat it. Pip took the joke in good part, claiming a kiss from his favourite girl and declaring it to be the best birthday ever.

       Legolas and Gimli had returned from Mirkwood, where Gimli was now quite a regular visitor. King Thranduil had been somewhat disconcerted to discover that his son was great friends with a dwarf, but once he had met Gimli he came to like him very much. Legolas admitted that his friend's visits certainly caused a great deal of amusement, but he was happy that Gimli was well received. He himself had met Gloin, who was a surprisingly jovial sort once he dropped his testy manner. It was nice to see them together, so unalike and yet so close.

       The two friends were delighted with Frodo's progress. He had even ventured into the garden, although the wide horizons after so long indoors had made him feel quite dizzy at first. He was hoping to walk as far as New Row soon and pay the Gaffer a visit. The old man would soon be celebrating his 102nd birthday, and a party was planned for him, in the Party Field. Frodo wanted to go to it and he was determined to walk there.

       On 6th April the mallorn flowered, and people came from miles around to see it. A number of the visitors also called at Bag End to pay their respects to Frodo, and there was a constant stream of people, most bearing gifts. Rosie claimed they would be able to start a shop or open a stall in Hobbiton market with all the packages now filling the parlour and overflowing into the hall. Fortunately the foodstuffs were useful for Sam's birthday and, being hobbits, nothing was wasted; Pippin saw to that. They also had Merry-lad's first birthday to rejoice in. The older children helped him give out the gifts and cheered the fact that he had cut a tooth that very day. He was more preoccupied with seeing how many bubbles he could blow in one go, but he smiled a great deal to show off his little teeth. He sat on Gimli's knee and tugged on the dwarf's beard, which amused Legolas immensely.

       "I agree, my little one, I cannot believe it's real either!" he chuckled, and Gimli gave a loud "harrumph" and rolled his eyes, which only made the baby laugh.

       "Saucy pointy-ear!" He leaned down to the child. "Why don't you go and pull his hair - I don't believe that's real either!"

       "My little Elanorelle never pulled my hair," the Elf said, lifting Elanor into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, and everyone smiled to see them together. The child's hair was so fair, unheard of in hobbits until the Year of Plenty, that she looked like a little Elf.

       May Day saw everyone down in the Party Field where the maypole stood. Frodo had achieved his ambition and walked there, although his legs felt rather shaky for a few moments afterwards. He soon recovered, and enjoyed being part of things again. He thought it best not to do any dancing round the maypole but he enjoyed watching the lads and lasses and the children. It was also amusing to watch the young people pairing off and sneaking away for romantic trysts in the woods. He sat at one of the tables with his friends and family around him, sipping good ale, eating splendid food and revelling in the beauty of the Shire that he hoped soon to wander - the woods, the fields, the little rivers......... He could not believe he had almost lost all this, or that his life had been given back to him. He felt truly blessed.

       He found himself at the centre of a large group of Shirefolk all falling over themselves to shake his hand and wish him the best of health. It was very disconcerting but he was soon explaining the Quest to bands of inquisitive hobbits, all impressed by the fact that he was on first name terms with the new King and friends with an Elf prince and a dwarf. Older housewives and old gammers wanted to ask him about his health and the young girls gawped and blushed when he spoke to them, and the men and lads all wanted to know if he'd seen any fighting, or any monsters. He told them frankly that monsters were not fell beasts or fire breathing dragons, but those who abused their power to the detriment of others. They may not have understood that but he felt he should tell them. When he was beginning to feel a little tired he went in search of his cousins to lighten his mood. He found Pip sitting near the mallorn.

       "Not dancing, Legolas?" enquired Pippin in his distinctive Tuckborough burr. "I was hoping to see you and Gimli skipping round the maypole together."

       Frodo almost choked on his ale at the very thought. Pippin had to smack him on the back while he coughed, then the two cousins collapsed in helpless laughter. "Oh my! Legolas I can see dancing, but the idea of Gimli prancing about with ribbons........................." he paused, unable to continue for giggles.

       Legolas was also amused at the thought of his stocky friend dancing round, interweaving ribbons and performing intricate dance steps. He threw back his head and laughed merrily. Gimli turned to look at him, too far away to hear the conversation but suspicious that he was the reason for the Elf's merriment. Frodo knew this would be the cue for a string of insults to be hurled back and forth, although at least it was good-natured these days.

       "You watch," said Pippin slyly. "It will be 'wretched pointy-ear!' and 'grubby rock-splitter!' any minute now!"

       "Neither of them will admit how fond they are of each other. It's so funny!" Frodo smiled in their direction and drained his mug.

       "Wooaah! Mrs Bracegirdle, bearing down fast on your right. There's no escape!" said Pippin, and fled, leaving Frodo feeling rather abandoned.

      "Mr. Baggins! My dear Mr. Baggins, how wonderful to see you out and about," boomed Hyacinth Bracegirdle, and before Frodo could rise from his seat to shake her hand she was upon him, and he found himself eye to ample bosom with the maker of the steak and mushroom pies. He was about to mumble a few words but before he could open his mouth he was clasped to her prominent chest and embraced very firmly.

       "Poor Frodo, he'll think he's gone deaf," muttered Gimli, and Merry guffawed loudly while Pippin sprayed ale in all directions. Even Legolas was biting his lip, and Sam and Rosie were all but falling off the bench. Eventually Legolas took pity on him and walked over to rescue his dear friend before he suffocated.

       "Good afternoon, ma'am," he said politely, taking her hand and kissing it, bowing low as he did so. Mrs, Bracegirdle fluttered and released Frodo, who was blushing strawberry pink and quite out of breath. It was some time before he could politely extract himself from the conversation, and not before he received another smothering, but finally he managed to join Legolas and walk back to his cousins and friends, who were still howling.

       "Very funny," he growled, fanning himself with his handkerchief. "It's alright for you - I wasn't sure I was going to come out alive!"

       Merry was still laughing. "You should have seen your face, Fro! I'm surprised you could breathe in there!"

       "Awwwww!" cried Pippin, "He's blushing! All those gentlehobbit sensibilities! Didn't stop you looking though, did it?"

       "It may have escaped your notice, Peregrin Took, but I had very little choice!" Frodo was fighting the urge to laugh. "It was like being trapped between two very large pillows!"

       Merry took a swig of ale. "Rumour has it that Mr. Bracegirdle's seen less of her recently than you did just now!" He winked at Pippin. "I think she's sweet on you, Fro. She thinks you're brave and noble and heroic - which you are - and you're handsome and a bit delicate. She probably wants to mother you.......................or something.........!" He dodged as Frodo flipped an apple core in his direction.

       By the time they returned home, with sleepy children trailing behind and Rosie-lass drowsing in her father's arms, Frodo felt he had broken another barrier. He laughed off Sam's suggestion that he rest, and he and Legolas put the children to bed. Sam could hear giggling and talking from their rooms for some time. He smiled at Rosie.

       "He's even getting some colour in his cheeks again. He'll never put on a lot of weight but his bones don't stick out any more, and he's cheerful. It's truly wonderful, lass. I still can't believe it sometimes."

       "Frodo Baggins!" Rosie said as he returned to the kitchen. "I declare you're as bad as those children for lingering over the good-nights." She held both his hands, turned them over and tutted. "How can I tell Ellie and Fro not to bite their nails when their uncle chews his to the quick. You stop biting or I'll put something nasty on them! You have beautiful hands and those nails spoil them." She wagged a finger at him. "I mean it - no good you laughing! I want to see proper nails in six months."

       "Yes, ma'am," he said, and ducked the tea towel.

                                                                           ************

       The Gaffer's birthday was one of the happiest and most splendid occasions to take place in the Party Field. The old man was delighted to be the centre of so much attention, surrounded by all his family. Halfred had travelled from the Northfarthing with his wife and children, and Hamson and his brood had come in from Tighfield, where he worked as a roper. Sam was the only one of Gaffer's sons to follow him into gardening but he had become the greatest in Shire history, a fact of which the Gaffer was very proud. It looked as though young Fro would be another; barely five and already he had his own little plot in the Bag End gardens. Only that morning he had dragged his uncle out to see his plants, which were flourishing and almost in flower. He knew what they were called, what sort of light they needed and how much water. He was constantly questioning his father and grandfather, and seemed to remember everything he was told, without it being written down for him.

       Frodo was delighted to see Sam's brothers again. They had been his companions whenever he came to stay at Bag End in the years after the death of his parents, and he spent a great deal of time in the cosy kitchen at No.3, Bagshot Row, helping Bell Gamgee and playing with baby Sam.

       "These two saved me from a beating from Lotho on more than one occasion," he explained to Rosie. "They were big for their age and Lotho was a coward. He was fine pounding me, but if someone hit him he usually ran screaming for his mother. He started taunting me about my parents, calling me an orphan, jeering about how they died. I was only eleven and they'd only been dead a month, and of course I started to cry. Just then, Hamson came up and said, 'Why, you pimply-faced little weasel, I'll make you sorry you said that,' and the next thing I knew, he and Lotho were rolling over in the lane. Then Halfred joined in and Lotho fled, wailing and howling. They were my heroes after that."

       Hamson, a broad and brawny hobbit, put an arm round Frodo's shoulders. "You were always so fond of our Mum, and little Sam, and so good with our sisters. We were proud to share Mum with you, Mr. Frodo, and she thought the world of you."

       Halfred grinned. "Remember the time we had to sort out Ted Sandyman as well? We threw him in the pond, didn't we? Only at the edge, he wasn't likely to drown, but it scared him and he stayed away from you after that.

       "I remember," Frodo laughed. "My two terrible enemies reduced to snivelling children. And Sam started being my protector at a very young age.........and, Elbereth bless him, he's been doing it ever since!" He held Sam's hand in his for a moment. "He ran at Ted Sandyman once - he can't have been more than eight or nine - and completely bowled him over! Just put his head down and charged like an enraged bull!"

       Sam smiled shyly. "I think I was yelling something like, "You stay away from Mr. Frodo, you great bully!" and I caught him in an awkward place and he went down as though he'd been poleaxed!"

       Hamson laughed. "I remember him rolling about, clutching his treasures and moaning. Funniest sight I'd seen since Mrs Proudfoot dragged her husband home from the "Bush" by his ear!"

       "The one who frightened me the most was your sister Daisy. She is rather.............formidable." Frodo paused.

       "She's a good heart, our Daisy. Of course, she's also got a tongue like a sacking needle," Hamson chuckled.

       "Have you ever watched her have a row with someone? She lets them jump up and down and scream till they're red in the face and then she just comes out with a remark that takes the rug from under 'em, and walks away. I don't know how she does it." He shook his head in admiration.

       Daddy Twofoot banged on the table for silence and the Gaffer stood. He was going to make a speech - if Bilbo Baggins could make one on his birthday then so could Hamfast Gamgee. He surveyed the field with its food-covered tables, the smiling hobbits all around him, the beauty of the mallorn above, and smiled to himself.

       Most of the crowd had felt the Gaffer's hand a time or two as young hobbits during fruit-scrumping expeditions.

       "My dear friends! This is a wonderful day, to see all of you here enjoying yourselves. I've had a wonderful time, and I've had a wonderful life too. My only regret is that my dear Bell is not here to see this day. She was the best wife and mother any man could wish for, and I'd like us all to drink a toast to her memory." He raised his mug and everyone did the same. Sam had tears in his eyes. His mother had been a sweet, kindly and capable woman, motherly and tender. She had taken Frodo to her heart when he arrived in Hobbiton just after his parents died, and he became devoted to her.

       "To Mum!" said Hamson, drinking deeply. "We'll never forget her!"

       "Indeed not," Frodo murmured. "Dear Mrs. Gamgee, she was so kind and loving."

       "Now, I'd like to say a few words about my children," the Gaffer said. "I'm proud of them all, I must say. They've all done well for themselves, going off and being independent. I admit I was disappointed when my two eldest didn't want to follow me, but my young Sam more than made up for it. The gardens at Bag End have never looked better, the Shire's been healed, and now he's the Mayor! Who'd have thought it? And my girls, all wed and with families of their own now. Even my baby Marigold's 'spectin' soon, so I'll be a grand-dad again come the winter." He paused, amused by Mari's blush . "I'd also like to thank Mr. Frodo here, for looking after my Sam and his family. I've always said that Mr. Frodo Baggins is a true gentlehobbit, and it's a pleasure to see him up and about again, looking so well." He raised his mug to Frodo, who glowed rather pink but smiled and responded. "Thank you to all my friends and neighbours for coming here today - I hope you've all enjoyed yourselves. I think that's all I wanted to say. I thought of saying something about hoping we wouldn't have too much food left over, but with Mr.Merry and Mr. Pippin around I don't think there's much danger of that!"

       Loud laughter ensued at that point, and Pip raised his mug and yelled, "Happy Birthday, Gaffer! We'll do our best!"

                                                                              ************ 

       May and June were the finest since 1420. The sun shone, the rain was gentle and mostly came at night, and the fruit trees and bushes groaned under the weight of their crop. In late May Rosie came over queasy while cooking breakfast. Frodo saw her go pale, and leapt up.

       "Rose! What's wrong?" He guided her to a chair. "Feeling sick?" She nodded, hand over her mouth, and he hurried to fetch her a glass of water. "Are you expecting again?" he asked.

       "Looks like it." She sipped the water, and smiled. "I always said Sam don't know his own strength."

       Frodo laughed. "Now you go back to bed, put your feet up and stay away from cooking smells. I can make breakfast."

       "It wouldn't be right. You're still not fully recovered yourself, and you're..........well, you're a gentlehobbit and the Master of Bag End........"

       "Piffle, Rosie Gamgee! I'm quite capable of cooking breakfast and Sam and I can see to the children. You have a rest and I'll bring you some tea and dry toast in a while." He saw the longing in her eyes. "Go on, do it. I promise we won't burn the place down or poison the children!" He pushed her gently to the door. "How long have you been looking after me? I've been very selfish, and it's time I stopped." He was startled when she put her arms round his neck and kissed him.

       "I know exactly why Sam loves you so much. No-one could be nicer than you. Thank you, dear. And you're not selfish, and don't ever let me hear you say so."

       When Sam returned with some early redcurrants he was surprised to find Frodo chopping mushrooms and cooking bacon and fried potatoes. Frodo sat him down and gently explained, and Sam spent the next ten minutes grinning and blushing.

       "Expectin' again? How did that happen?" Frodo roared with laughter.

       "Well if you don't know after all this time, I don't think I'm the one to tell you!"

       The children had finished breakfast and were helping to clear the table when their mother emerged from the bedroom. The doors and windows were open wide to air out the smell of cooking, Frodo was washing dishes and Sam was scrubbing the floor. Rosie stood in the doorway, watching the scene and thinking she could not be happier. This pregnancy would be so much nicer because there would be no worries over Frodo, as had been the case before Merry's birth.

       "Fancy letting Frodo wash dishes," she said reprovingly, patting Sam on the head. He looked up and took her hands, then rested one hand on her belly.

       "Didn't have much choice, lass. It was either the dishes or the floor, and I could hardly see the Master of Bag End on his knees scrubbing the floor, now could I?"

                                                                              ************

       Rosie bloomed with the summer. As with her previous pregnancies, she glowed with life. Her hair was lustrous and her skin looked like a peach, and she used her nesting instincts to rearrange furniture and clean every nook and cranny. Frodo kept the children out of her way by taking them into the walled fruit garden to pick redcurrants, raspberries, blackcurrants, gooseberries and blackberries, and to the orchard to collect plums, cherries, peaches, apricots, damsons and greengages. They filled baskets, bowls, basins and boxes, and gave away plenty to their friends and neighbours. They all had permanently stained fingers and lips and Rosie teased them about eating more than they brought in. She was also very surprised to discover that Frodo could make pastry.

       "Where did you learn to do that?" she asked, when he presented them with a superb peach and raspberry pie one evening, when they returned from a day at the Cotton's farm.

       He smiled and said, "At Brandy Hall. I spent a lot of time in the kitchens after my parents died, and the cook took me under her wing. She gave me little jobs to do and taught me things. She said I had a light hand for pastry - most lads are too heavy-handed for it. Sam's mother taught me too."

       "I knew he could cook, lass, but it never seemed right to mention it or bother him before. Old Mr. Bilbo was quite useful in the kitchen too."

       "See," Frodo chuckled, "I'm full of hidden talents."

       "You are," she agreed. "I'm beginning to wonder what other talents you've been hiding all these years!" She giggled at his blush. "That's right, it's good to see some colour in your cheeks." She turned to Sam. "Isn't it about time you two went to the Dragon - you've not been out at night for ages. Must be two years or more since Frodo went there."

       "Reckon she's trying to get rid of us," Sam said, grinning at Frodo.

       "Looks like it. Well, we could go tomorrow evening - Merry and Pip are coming over and I'm sure they won't turn down a trip to the inn."

       "Are you up to the walk, Frodo?"

       "I'm fine - I've been tramping round Hobbiton with the children since June, so I've had nearly three months practice. Not to mention all that fruit-picking."

                                                                              ************

        Frodo was right. Merry and Pippin were certainly not going to turn down a trip to the "Green Dragon" and they set out the following evening, strolling down the hill and making their way through Hobbiton. The inn, and its rival, "The Ivy Bush," stood just the other side of the village, on the Bywater Road. They met a number of the regulars on their way, including their dear friend, Cousin Fredegar, known to most as "Fatty," Bolger, who was also Merry's brother-in-law. He was delighted to see Frodo out for an evening's fun, and they walked along, laughing and joking. It was a warm evening but without the sticky heat of August, and very pleasant to be out and about.

       The inn was bright and cheerful, welcoming them in from the darkening twilight of the road. Jeb Sandyman, Ted's cousin but a much nicer character, and the miller since Ted had departed for Bree, called a greeting from the corner.

       "Evenin', Mr Baggins! Mr. Meriadoc, Mr.Peregrin! Mr.Mayor! How nice to see you all. And Mr. Bolger too! Hope you're all well?"

       "Doing fine, Jeb," Sam replied. He and Frodo went over to have a word while Merry and Pippin set up the drinks. The landlord was glad to see them since they were funny and popular and usually stayed for a long time and consumed a great deal of ale. This particular evening was to be no exception.

       "Pippin, you can't sing that song in here!" Frodo hissed, although he was trying not to laugh. Pip downed the rest of his ale and set the mug down.

       "And what's wrong with "The Virgin of Staddle" may I ask?" he said indignantly.

       "There aren't any virgins in Staddle, Pip. Everyone knows that!" Frodo tried to be crushing, but the smile playing round his lips made that difficult.

       Pippin smirked. "Not since Merry and I went there a few years ago, I agree!" Frodo rolled his eyes.

       "From what I've heard, there never were any virgins in Staddle," chuckled Fatty. "It's a very strange place, even by Bree-land standards."

       "Besides, it is a very vulgar song, and there is a lady present," said Frodo, nodding towards the hobbit lass behind the bar. She caught his eye, blushed, giggled and bobbed a curtsey.

       "Oooh! Little Daffodil Chubb! She likes you, Frodo! She keeps blushing and giggling when you look at her! Tell her it's your birthday next week and I'm sure she'll give you a special birthday kiss!" Pippin was in no mood to let it go. Sam glanced at Frodo to see if he was upset but Frodo merely laughed and went to buy another round.

       "Look at him" said Merry, smiling as he watched his cousin standing at the bar, his curls almost black in the lamplight. "I thought we'd never do this again, all of us. I still can't believe the change in him. Has he ever said if he remembers what happened while he was unconscious?"

       "Not really," murmured Sam. "He did say something about Gandalf but I've never liked to press him. Reckon he'll tell us when he's ready."

       Pippin bounced up. "C'mon, Merry! We have to sing something, and since our dear prudish Fro won't let us sing anything vulgar we'll have to do the old favourite!"

       Merry staggered to his feet and somehow managed to climb on the table, and they began..........

       "Hey ho, to the bottle I go!

       To heal my heart and drown my woe.

       Rains may come, and winds may blow,

       And there'll still be many miles to go..........."

       Frodo turned to look, shaking his head in amusement. Those two were utterly incorrigible. Daffodil was laughing and half trying to flirt with him, lowering her gaze and blushing a little. She had never seen truly blue eyes before as they were most uncommon in hobbits, and Frodo's were a deep blue which rivalled the lobelia flowers trailing from the hanging baskets adorning Bag End. If she looked at those eyes she found it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying.

       "They always sing that song when they've had a really good evening," he laughed. "You know, if and when those two have children of their own, perhaps they'll realise what unholy terrors they were. Justice, that will be."

       The walk home along the dark lanes was uproarious, with some singing and a lot of laughter. Frodo was sure he was not walking in a straight line but it was a wonderful feeling to be out with friends, after a happy and convivial time, just revelling in being alive.

                                                                              *************

       The next morning he wasn't quite sure he was still alive. He had forgotten what a hangover felt like, but as the morning light seared his eyeballs he mumbled "Ow!" and pulled the bedclothes over his head. Somewhere there was a pounding, which seemed at first to be in his head but which he eventually managed to identify as someone knocking at the door. It stopped after a minute or two, so he assumed someone had answered and drifted back to sleep. When he finally dragged himself out of bed and tottered to the kitchen in search of revival he found Rosie making jam, the children playing in the parlour, and no sign of Sam.

       "Ah! Up at last, eh?" said Rosie. "I expect you're feeling a bit the worse for wear after all that ale last night?"

       "I'd forgotten what too much ale does to me. I think fragile is a good description at the moment. Where's Sam - already out in the garden?"

       "No, dear. May came for him first thing. His Gaffer's taken poorly so he's down there." She poured Frodo a cup of tea and added plenty of sugar.

       "Oh dear. Nothing serious, I hope?" He stirred it carefully, trying not to make a noise with the spoon.

       Rosie lowered her voice to a whisper, lest the children overhear. "He's had that cough for a few weeks, and now it looks like pneumonia. At his age I don't think.............." She put a little jam on a saucer to distract the wasps. "It looks like the end, I'm afraid."

       Frodo was saddened. He liked Gaffer and he was deeply upset for Sam's sake, and the children's. He sipped his tea slowly, gradually feeling a little more connected to things as his head cleared. When he had bathed and dressed he would go down to the Row and see if he could help.

                                                                             ************

       Sam sat beside Gaffer's bed. The old man seemed comfortable, dozing quietly. Daisy and May, Sam's sisters, moved almost silently, doing chores and talking in whispers. Marigold was on her way, but as she was in the last stage of her pregnancy they wanted her to take it slowly. Messages had been sent to the Northfarthing and Tighfield and the boys would come, although it was doubtful if they would arrive before the end.

       "Samwise?" The voice was shaky and there was a rattle in the chest which Sam knew and dreaded. Less than a year ago he had sat at Frodo's bedside, fretting and grieving.

       "Yes, Dad, I'm here." He took the old man's gnarled, work-worn hand and held it tightly, as though his own strength could hold him back from death.

       "Don't you fret, boy. I've had a long life.....a wonderful life. I've been happy in my work.......and happy in my home. I'm proud............I'm proud of all of you, but I'm 'specially proud of you, son. Never thought my little Samwise would be Mayor..........." He chuckled and it turned into a fit of coughing. "Last year you were worritting over your Mr. Frodo and you got him back. I'm old, I've had my time. Better me than him, son. I'm ready to go, I reckon. Wasn't right that he should have gone................. "

       "Dad! Don't say that. You've got years yet, we don't want to lose you." Sam chafed his father's hand gently.

       "Now, now. You're a man grown, Samwise, with bairns of your own. There's a time and a season for everything, son. You're a gardener, you know that as well as I do. Time is right for me to go. An apple shouldn't stay longer on the tree just because it likes it there." He smiled and patted Sam's cheek. "There you are, living up at Bag End and more like a brother to Mr. Frodo now..........He's a true gentlehobbit, that one, I allus said so." Gaffer's eyes closed and he slept.

       Frodo crept in and sat next to Sam. They hugged each other wordlessly, and kept vigil for the day. Sam was speechless with gratitude that his master should have joined him, and his sisters were very touched by his concern. Gaffer woke once more, recognised Frodo and spoke a few words before lapsing into unconsciousness and slipping away just before dawn.

                                                                              ************

       Sitting in the Bag End kitchen, the children still sleeping and unaware, the sorrowful little group did their best to comfort Sam. Merry and Pippin were subdued, sympathising with their friend and wondering yet again how they would cope in such a situation. The only one in the little group who had lost a father was Frodo, and he seemed able to console Sam. Rosie made tea and sat tucked beside her husband, her arm through his.

        "I know this might sound silly but what happens to him?" Sam asked plaintively. "Is that it? Is this life all there is? That's what I want to know."

       "I don't think any of us can answer that," said Merry slowly. "I know most hobbits say that there is nothing, but I've always hoped they're wrong."

       "I remember Uncle Rory telling me that when my parents died," murmured Frodo. "But Bilbo always maintained that hobbits went into the next world. Why should Men and Elves - and Dwarves I think - go somewhere and not hobbits?"

       "I guess none of us will ever know until our time comes," said Pippin, glancing round.

       Frodo cleared his throat. "I think I may............if you laugh at this, any of you................." Everyone shook their heads. "When I was ill I ........well I think I was given a glimpse of............... You promise you won't think I'm mad?"

       "Of course we won't, Fro," said Merry. "Tell us, please. We want to know, we've just never liked to press you into telling. It's obvious something amazing happened to you."

       "Very well. I'd like to tell you, and I think it may help Sam here." Frodo set down his teacup and began.

                                                   ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gondor 1429 SR Rosie completes the story of Frodo's illness and recovery.

September 1428

Frodo closed his eyes and remembered........................................................................

       Darkness. Pitch-black and desolate, like the Plain of Gorgoroth only much blacker. The familiar voices which had murmured in his ears had faded now, and were barely audible. He turned in a circle but there was nothing, and he felt very lost and frightened. He just wanted everything to be over, but now he wondered if the essential Frodo would be stranded in this wilderness forever. If Uncle Rorimac had been right, and life on Middle-earth was all there was, then he was thankful his life was ending, because he could not bear it any longer as it was. Yet..........supposing the soul lived on, wasn't it supposed to go somewhere? Elves and Men did, so he'd been told, and if they did, why not hobbits? He looked around, vainly trying to find a path, but the darkness was unrelenting. He wondered if this was his punishment for breaking his vow - that the next world rejected him even as the Lands of the West had rejected Saruman's spirit. He was condemned to wander in this miserable place for the rest of time, too disgraced to be accepted anywhere..........

       Suddenly two figures appeared, one standing on each side of him. They took his hands and a familiar voice said,

       "Reject you, you silly boy? Of course no-one will reject you. Everyone wants to lavish praise and love upon you but you have refused it because you believe yourself to be unworthy."

       "Gandalf?" Here indeed was Gandalf the White as Frodo had last seen him when he came to Hobbiton for the last time. "Gandalf!" He turned to his left and gazed up at the Lady of the Golden Wood. "M......my lady........"

       "My dear hobbit, you must stop this ridiculous nonsense!" Gandalf sounded just the same. "You are the one responsible for this isolation, because you have pushed away those who love you and wish to help. You have closed yourself off from love and happiness because you keep blaming yourself for things over which you had no control."

       "But I broke my vow!" It was a cry of despair, wrenched from depths he did not know he possessed.

       "I don't remember you vowing to throw the wretched thing in - you said you would take it to the Cracks of Doom, and you did, as I knew you would. Sadly, I knew that by the time you reached them you would be unable to let it go, but I trusted to something else.......your compassion toward Gollum, Sam's common sense and the power of the Valar."

       "But you could hardly have forseen everything - that I would claim the Ring and Gollum would bite off my finger and then fall in................."

       "No, Frodo, I did not forsee that. As I said once before, even the very wise cannot see all ends. I knew that if the Ring claimed you - and you must remember, dear boy, it was that way round; you did not claim the Ring, it claimed you - then Sam would be on hand to do whatever needed to be done. He would have either struck off your finger - or your whole hand - with the sword, or, more likely knowing Samwise Gamgee, he would have grabbed you and jumped with you into the fires. He would have given his life for you, Frodo, and he still would."

       "I don't deserve his love, I treated him badly." Frodo wanted to believe Gandalf but he could not allow himself to.

       "Frodo," Galadriel said soothingly, "You were not yourself when you said things to Samwise. He knows that was not the real Frodo Baggins, and he loves you dearly. Turning away from him when he wanted to help you is the cruellest thing you have done to Sam, not the harsh words and actions in Mordor."

       "Look, my dear, dear Frodo, we can only do our best and hope that it is good enough. You did more than your best and it was more than enough. Let it go now." Gandalf knelt in front of Frodo, clasping both his hands. "You say you cannot be forgiven - there is nothing to forgive. Your pride is telling you that you should have resisted the Ring, because you still want to be a hero. I tell you that none of us could have resisted. You did all that was asked of you - no-one can do any more. You must forgive yourself, my dear hobbit. You can hardly be blamed for your will being broken, any more than if your body had been broken also. There is no blame; it was not your fault. Believe that."

       "And what of my contamination - I am filthy after what ...........they...did ......." He sighed. "I am ashamed..............."

       "The only shame is theirs, not yours, Frodo," said Galadriel softly. "You were a helpless prisoner and they mistreated you. If you believe yourself to be guilty in any way, they will have won, and I do not believe you desire that?" She held his hand firmly. "You are not contaminated, you are not filthy. Your flesh is unpolluted unless you believe it to be. They cannot touch your soul unless you allow them to. Deny them that victory, Frodo."

       "Frodo, I know you felt that nothing could be the same, and in a way that is true. You are not the same, and neither is the Shire, but that is the way of things, I'm afraid. Without change there is no growth, and all living things must grow or die, including hobbits. The Shire was terribly wounded, and there will be scars which will never fade entirely, but the land and the trees have healed, thanks to Sam and the Lady here, and Sam has been desperately trying to heal you too. The land allowed him to help, that is the difference. Trust to love, without which there can be no healing. You will never be the innocent young hobbit who set out so bravely that night. I wish it were otherwise, my dear Frodo, but even I cannot change that fundamental truth. You have to learn to love the hobbit you are now, and to love yourself you have to believe that you are worthy of love." Gandalf gazed into the deep blue eyes, and saw a longing there.

       "We have come to guide you wherever you truly wish to go, Frodo. The Valar have enabled us to come to you because they do not wish you to be trapped in this forsaken place forever." Galadriel smiled tenderly, her eyes compelling. "Do you truly wish to die, Frodo, or do you want to return to those who love you dearly? The choice must be yours."

       He turned as a faint light glimmered in the distance. Through a round doorway he could see lush green fields and a vision of a Shire more perfect than he had thought possible. The rich green of the trees and the green and gold patchwork of the fields was counterpointed with the wildflowers rioting in the hedgerows and tumbling over the walls and doorways of the dwellings. It was so beautiful he could not speak.

       In the doorway stood two figures and he gasped as he recognised them.

       "Mama! Papa! Oh!" He ran towards them, and his mother caught him in her arms. "I've missed you so much!"

       "Oh my sweet boy! I've missed you too but oh! I am so proud of you!" She was smiling.

       "You are? But.........you know what I did.......I ......claimed .........."

       "Nonsense, dear," Primula said gently. You heard Gandalf. And you were so brave. No mother could be prouder of her son, just remember that."

       "Am......am...I not to...come with you?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.

       "You still have a life to live, my boy," said Drogo, his hands resting on Frodo's shoulders. "You should return to all those who love you and will be utterly destroyed by your death. Sam, Rosie, the children, Merry and Pippin, the King, Prince Faramir.......all your friends, dear Esme, Legolas and Gimli who have been tending you so devotedly. They need you."

       "It is not your time yet, lambkin," said his mother. "We love you, never forget that, and we shall watch over you as we have always done, but now is not your time. The King is weeping at this moment, re-reading the letters from Sam and Pippin and believing he will never see you again. There are so many people willing you to recover. Go back to your life, allow others to love you as they wish, and enjoy your life again."

       "Your Mama is right," added Drogo. "You have suffered too much, my son. Go back now and be happy. Let them spoil you and show their affection and stop pushing them away. We'll be here, and one day your time will come, but that time is not yet."

       He nodded and said softly, "I love you both so much. Not a day has gone by when I haven''t thought of you."

       "We know, dear. We can feel when you think of us. We'll wait for you, my lambkin. Go now, before it is too late."

       Gradually they retreated, leaving him feeling lonely but reassured. The two figures in white were still with him, standing aside and smiling. He looked up at them and then stared round. The darkness had returned; which way was home?

       "Trust in Sam's love for you. He has sent you a signal to follow," said Gandalf, with amusement and affection in his voice. "I think you'll recognise it!"

       He whirled round, and there in the distance was a bright light, filling his vision until he could see nothing else. He thought of Sam grieving for him, of the children who adored him, Rose who looked after him like a dear sister, his cousins, his friends....... He started to run, then stopped, turned and waved to the two dazzling figures. "Thank you," he whispered, and then hurried on into the light.............

                                                                             ************

       "And when I opened my eyes, there I was, in my own bedroom, with Galadriel's Phial on the chest by the window, and Sam and Rosie, poor dears, sleeping either side of me. I don't know if you'll think it was just a dream, but I think I was given a glimpse of something wonderful that night. I know now that hobbits do have somewhere to go after death and it is so beautiful! Just like the Shire but even more perfect, if you can believe that!"

       Pippin wiped his eyes. "Oh Frodo! Legolas said you were far away in a wilderness and couldn't hear us any more. I think it's true, you did see your parents and Gandalf and Galadriel."

       "I believe it too," said Merry, fumbling for his handkerchief. " I'm so glad they managed to convince you to come back to us. Silly old Fro! Of course we love you, you daft hobbit!" He clasped Frodo's hands.

       "Then do you think my Mam will be waiting for Da?" Sam asked, his eyes wet with tears but his tanned, honest face wreathed in smiles.

       "I'm sure of it, Sam. And no doubt she's very proud of you too."

       Rosie smiled through her own tears. "See! I always thought the Valar wouldn't be so unfair as not to create somewhere for us!"

       "You didn't see Bilbo?" Merry asked tentatively. "Does that mean he's still alive in the Undying Lands?"

       Frodo looked thoughtful. "Yes, I think he is. He won't live long of course. Mortals don't. They're only called the Undying Lands because the Valar and the Elves live there. But I think he would have been given a bit of a new lease of life on his arrival. If he had passed into the next world I'm sure he'd have been there to tell me I was being a fool!"

       "You are a fool if you think any of us blamed you for anything, you .....you.......idiot!" said Merry firmly. "Legolas said you were out of reach of our calls, so perhaps it needed Gandalf and Galadriel to bring you back."

       "It was very strange but I felt it was a gift from the Valar and I had to accept what they said and stop punishing myself. I'm so glad they gave me another chance because I realise how much you love me, now I've learned to accept it and stop pushing you all away."

       Rosie stood behind his chair and embraced him. "Good!" She kissed the top of his head. "About time you saw sense, you stubborn Baggins!"

~~**~~**~~** ~~**~~**~~**         ~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**       ~~**~~**~~**~~**

The Present - Minas Tirith Summer 1429

        Rosie sat back and wiped her eyes. Re-telling the story had been more emotional than she had expected, and she saw that Arwen and Eowyn were also weeping. Arwen spoke first.

       "I'm so glad my Naneth was able to help Frodo. Anada hinted as much once, but he said he wanted to hear it from Frodo himself. I'm sure he will speak with Frodo soon."

       "How wonderful too that Frodo had you and Sam and all his friends to love him and call him back. He seems able to accept your love now." Eowyn smiled. "It truly was a gift from the Valar."

       Arwen topped up their glasses again. "Love is the greatest gift of all, and Frodo has that in abundance. He deserves it too."

       "He always seemed so empty, but I said our love for him could fill him and replace the great gap left by ......that terrible thing.. - if only he let it. Now he does - he allows us in instead of locking himself away. He still has his nightmares - sometimes Sam will get up and go to him for a while, but he doesn't lapse into those dreadful trances and scrabble for the Ring like he used to. Mostly he just talks for a little while and then goes back to sleep. If I think he's looking a bit thoughtful I talk to him or the children get him to play or read to them, and he's soon himself again. And those moments seem to be happening less and less these days."

       "I wonder what they're doing at the moment?" Eowyn murmured mischievously. "I can hear singing ............... I.........er....I think it's singing!"

        "Then I shouldn't listen too closely to the words, ma'am, because they're bound to be rude!" said Rosie with a laugh. "Especially if Merry and Pippin have anything to do with it!"

                                                                              *************

       In the King's apartments the party was going extremely well. Celeborn had retired for the night but he had stayed much longer than he intended and had greatly enjoyed the celebrations. Upon his departure, however, the serious drinking began, and two hours later they were all rather tipsy, to say the least. Faramir and Beregond had reached the "you're my best friend, you are!" stage of intoxication and had their arms round each other as they attempted to sing old Gondorian drinking songs, although their grasp of the words - and their tankards - was somewhat less than perfect. Aragorn was still upright - his experience of the taverns of Middle-earth while being leader of the Rangers gave him something of an advantage on evenings like these - and so were the hobbits, whose capacity for drink never ceased to astonish other races. Legolas, the twins and Gimli were sitting propped in a rather untidy heap on one of the couches and Legolas was leaning heavily against the sturdy dwarf. At that moment, Aragorn was expounding on his knowledge of music...............

       "I know any number of drinking songs!" He grinned. "I know a lot of Sire shongs..........." He blinked and re-ran the words through his brain, then laughed and corrected himself. ".............Shire songs. Merry and Pippin have been teaching me."

       "Oh no!" murmured Frodo. "Not "Tuckborough Fair"?"

       "Of course," said Pip. "It's one of the best." He poured more ale and refilled Frodo's tankard at the same time.

       Frodo looked disbelieving. "Pip, some of those songs are a bit.......well.........rude!"

       "Don't be such a prude, you scamp of a Baggins!" said Merry, grinning from ear to ear. "You've sung them often enough."

       "Yes, but I'm not the King of Gondor! Still, as long as you didn't teach him 'The Maid of Michel Delving'."

       "Ummmmm. We..ee..eell................." Pip began.

       "You did, didn't you? Oh Elbereth!" Frodo covered his eyes with his hand. "And 'The Lovers of Scary'?" Pip nodded.

       "What about that other song....the long one where the village had a funny name? No............No.......... something, wasn't it?" Faramir's brow furrowed in concentration, a slightly glazed look in the blue-grey eyes. Alcohol was clearly affecting his ability to think.

       "Oh yes!" cried Legolas, giggling. "That was a good one!" Gimli whispered something in his ear and he giggled again and smacked Gimli playfully.

       Frodo stiffened, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pip," he said carefully. "Please tell me you didn't teach the King of Arnor and Gondor, the Steward and Prince of Ithilien, the Captain of the White Company and an Elven prince the words to all thirty-five verses of 'Nineteen Nights in Nobottle'!"

       "Um..........I could tell you I didn't, but I'd be lying," replied Pippin cheerfully. "Besides, I'm sure when he was Strider the Ranger he heard hundreds of rude songs."

       "Frodo!" cried Aragorn. "You've a lovely voice, you give us a note and we'll follow you."

       Frodo thought Aragorn was being very over-optimistic with that statement but he hid his amusement and fixed the former Ranger with a mock glare.

       "Are you implying that I know the words to that scurrilous ditty?" he demanded. Merry gave a snort.

       "Of course you do! Get on with it!" He slapped his cousin on the back, causing him to almost choke on a mouthful of ale. "Sing! The King commands it!"

       Frodo began. The song was one of the most obscene drinking songs in Shire history, and part of him thought he should have been mortified to admit that he knew any of the words. The rest of him decided that he was far too drunk to care. It was the long and incredibly detailed tale of one hobbit-lad's adventures in the taverns, and with the lasses, of Nobottle. However, he was somewhat distracted when he realised that Merry and Pippin had not only taught everyone the words, they had also taught them the accompanying hand gestures. Everyone joined in and sang lustily - although it has to be said that they were not all singing the same tune - and the entire company finished more or less together, laughing and breathless. Frodo thought he would never forget watching the prince of Mirkwood and the Imladris twins singing drunkenly and copying Merry and Pippin's obscene gestures with gusto. He shook his head in a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

       Pippin grinned evilly and leaned towards him. "Perhaps we should teach Aragon 'The Virgin of Staddle'?" he said slyly. "It may be vulgar but it's not a patch on the one we've just sung!"

       "I think you've taught him enough to be going on with," replied Frodo, chuckling. "I never thought I'd see the day when this high-born and august company sang vulgar Shire songs - complete with hand movements! Pippin Took, you and Merry should be ashamed of yourselves! You've corrupted the nobility of Gondor and a number of the First-born, and you don't even look repentant."

      Legolas poured himself some more ale. Gimli looked at him with a quizzical expression.

       "You know, Master Elf, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were drunk."

       "Elves are never drunk," retorted the Prince of Mirkwood. "I'm merely relaxed."

       "Hah! So relaxed you're falling off your seat!" Gimli bellowed with laughter. He took a swig from his tankard and gazed around with satisfaction.

       Aragorn grinned. "I think we're all drunk," he said firmly. "We have had a wonderful evening, my friends, although no doubt we shall pay for it in the morning."

       "Sooner, if our womenfolk are still up," murmured Faramir, attempting to place his mug on the table and missing. He started to laugh, and soon everyone was leaning helplessly against everyone else, giggling.

       "I'm out of practice, I think," Frodo admitted. "Mind you, we drank a lot of mead with Eomer."

       "Sad," said Pippin. "He can't hold his drink, that one!"

       "Poor Eomer, we did rather outdo him, didn't we?" Frodo was chuckling at the memory.

       "Outdo? We drank him under the table - no, really, we did. He was absolutely soused that last evening. Still clutching his head when he waved us farewell," Merry chortled. "Do you remember how drunk Frodo was on one of Bilbo's birthdays? Sam had to carry him home that night!"

       Frodo tried to look indignant. "Meriadoc Brandybuck! You were the one who fell in the Bywater Pool!"

       "Wouldn't deny it," said Merry smugly, "But you were totally unable to stand!"

       Frodo smiled at the memory. "Well, I suppose I was what dear Fatty calls totally legless that night. Not sure why - what was I drinking?"

       "We tried that extra-strong ale at the "Bush," remember?" replied Sam. "It was strong too - I had a headache for two days!"

       "Why are you three so drunk?" enquired Aragorn, looking at the three Elves. They all spluttered and laughed loudly.

       "We finished the wine hours ago and moved on to the ale," replied Elrohir. "You know what ale does to Elves? We don't really get drunk on wine but ale is a different matter........"

       "And Barliman's ale is strong stuff, as I think we've discovered," said his brother, giggling.

       "Before we all collapse, we have to sing our old favourite...........Merry?" Pippin turned to his cousin, who was gazing into his tankard with a strange smile on his face. They stood, decided climbing on the table was not a possibility, and draped their arms round each other.

       "Heigh ho, to the bottle I go...............

       "You should have been dancing round the table, Fro," said Pippin when they'd finished.

       "It will be a wonder if I can stand, never mind dance," he replied with disarming honesty. "And I have to say, many banquets like that and we'll need to be rolled back to the Shire, because our ponies will refuse to carry us!"

       Helpless giggles afflicted everyone at the image this produced. Legolas was particularly taken with the idea of the hobbits rolling across Rohan, and was rendered incoherent for several minutes.

       "The way the horses are treated in the stables here.......," said Gimli, ".........your ponies will need to be rolled back to the Shire also!"

       "Ah!" said Aragorn, "We may serve a lot of food but in Gondor we lack the utter dedication to food and drink which is seen as normal in the Shire. We don't spend half an hour discussing the flavour of one variety of potato, or which type of mushroom goes best with bacon. And second breakfast was unheard of until Pippin made his demands known."

       "Hah!" muttered Pippin. "They still say they don't believe in elevenses, even after all these years. I'm very offended. One of the cooks said it was...................," he screwed up his face in concentration, "...............a figment of my ima.....ima.....imagination!"

       "Even though you have a pretty strange imagination, eh?" murmured Sam, grinning.

       "See? Now he's the Mayor he thinks he can insult me!" Pippin pouted. "And Rosie is always after me with the tea towel, even when I haven't done anything...........except grab a few tartlets or a slice of cake, or steal a few mouthfuls of stew. It's not fair, Sam. If Rosie doesn't want me tasting her cooking, she shouldn't be such a wonderful cook."

       "I'll be sure to tell her," said Sam drily. He glanced at Frodo. "I reckon we'd best be steering you to bed. You'll be a sorry sight in the morning I should think, unless you follow that advice of Mr .Bilbo's about drinking water before you go to sleep."

       "How much water?" asked Merry. "Drink a lot of water and we'd never get any sleep between visits to the privy!"

       "Mr. Bilbo said two glasses," said Sam, hooking Frodo's arm round his neck. "C'mon, m'dear, let's get you moving."

       Frodo giggled. "Silly! I think I can walk - just......" He dragged himself up, swayed a little, then regained his composure. "There! Knew I could!"

       "I may need more help than Frodo," said Aragorn with a laugh. "I don't remember the last time I was this drunk." He rose, slid back in his seat and the group promptly collapsed in hysterics again.

       Progress to the door was slow and repeatedly interrupted by incidents such as these. Eventually they all managed to stumble into the corridor and stagger to their rooms, although not before one last rousing verse of "Heigh ho, to the bottle I go......." which woke anyone who happened to be asleep except, fortunately, the babies, who snoozed blissfully through the off-key singing, even if their nurses did not.

                                                                            ***************

       There was little sign of a masculine presence stirring anywhere in the Citadel the next morning. Arwen stole from bed early when her milk started flowing, leaving Aragorn slumbering heavily. She, Eowyn and Rosie compared notes, giggling at the descriptions and planning to use their fragility as a source of fun when they did finally emerge from bed.

       "Sam did drink some water last night, and I've never known him have a really bad hangover, but there's always a first time. He said he hadn't seen Frodo so drunk for years." Rosie blew a raspberry on little Pippin's tummy and he gurgled and kicked. Eowyn grabbed one of the little feet and began to tickle it, making him laugh and wave his hands.

       Arwen stroked her baby daughter's hair. Little Melian, who was named after the mother of Luthien Tinuviel, the Maia whose blood flowed in the veins of both Arwen and Aragorn, stretched out a hand and grasped a strand of her mother's long dark hair. Arwen disentangled the tiny fingers before the hair went in her mouth, and kissed the child gently. She put her on the rug with Eowyn's daughter, Theodwyn, and baby Pip, and all three women sat on the floor to watch and play. The children explored each other carefully, grasping hands and feet. The little girls soon discovered that Pip had a lot of hair on his feet while they had none, and this kept them occupied for some time before they finally dozed off in a tangled heap.

       The older children tumbled in later, indignant that their fathers were not up and ready to play. Little Eldarion was quite upset to be told that Aragorn was still asleep, but he cheered up when Arwen explained.

       "I'm afraid Papa has rather a headache this morning, my pet. They all do - just be as quiet as you can for a while and I'm sure he'll make it up to you later."

       "We heard the singing when they went to bed," young Boromir added, giggling. "It sounded funny."

       "Will Uncle Frodo be awake yet, Aunt Rose?" Eldarion asked, sitting beside her and stroking little Pip's curls.

       "Probably not, dear. They all drank a bit too much ale last night so it will probably be a late start for everyone today." She smiled. "Would you like to hold the baby?" She placed him into the arms of the future King of Gondor, and smiled to see the earnest little boy tenderly cradling the baby hobbit.

       Eowyn gazed at her son. "Bobo! Please tell me there isn't a mouse or a frog in your pocket! You really shouldn't bring such things into the nursery!"

       Boromir opened his eyes wide and tried to look affronted. "Only one frog, Mama! I wanted to show Papa - he's a big frog. Look!" He scooped the creature from his pocket and it sat on his hand.

       "The pond is where he belongs. Poor thing, he doesn't wish to spend all day in your dry, stuffy pocket, covered in fluff and Eru knows what else. Besides, for all you know, Aunt Rosie might be afraid of frogs!" Eowyn tried to be cross with her son but it was not easy. When he stole a glance up into her face she saw his father's eyes.

       "Frightened? Bless you! Couldn't be frightened of frogs - the pond at Bag End is full of them. My Sam likes to encourage the frogs and toads because they eat the flying insects in the garden. Silly things are in and out of my kitchen all day in the summer, and they make such a noise at night with a chorus of croaking. When I first moved in I wondered how Sam and Frodo ever slept with that noise going on, but now I don't really notice it."

       Boromir took the frog over to show Rosie, before departing reluctantly to put it back near the large pond in the gardens of the Citadel. Eowyn shook her head, laughing.

       "He's incorrigible, that one! I try to be stern with him because his father won't, but it's very difficult. Poor Faramir, he wants to be close to his son because his father was so distant with him. He tries to treat them all the same too, because he was always aware that his brother was the favourite, and that is not fair to a child."

       "You must find it very difficult with five of them, Rose?" said Arwen, as they handed the babies to the nurses and went to the royal apartments for breakfast.

       "Have to be careful not to have favourites. If I have to shout at one they all get it! As for five......I had my fortune told once, at Hobbiton Fair, and she said I'd have twice that number and a few beside! Reckon my Sam went quite pale when I told him that, but I said he'd got the easy bit. It's me as has to carry and birth them!"

       The royal ladies began to laugh at Rosie's down-to-earth philosophy, and soon all three were giggling and swapping feminine gossip. They sat down to a good breakfast while the children tried unsuccessfully to play quietly.

                                                                              ************

       The King of Gondor awoke and regretted it. His first semi-coherent thought was that a group of dwarfs had begun knocking down the Citadel with very large hammers, and several of them seemed to be inside his head. His second thought was that something had crawled into his mouth and died. His tongue felt fuzzy, as though it was covered in a thickly-woven cloak. Vague memories of singing, laughing and falling over drifted through his fuddled brain; he groaned and covered his face. He should have known better - what had possessed him? Mind you, it had been a wonderful evening, and he had been delighted to see Frodo so well, having so much fun. He must talk to Frodo later..........how was Frodo dealing with the after effects of the previous night, he wondered. He tried to roll over, but the pounding in his head and the uneasy roiling in his stomach prevented him. He remained still, tried to shut out the glaring light of a beautiful July morning, and went back to sleep.

                                                                               ************  

       The three women looked up in surprise as Frodo and Sam walked in. They were both walking carefully and seemed rather quiet, but the fact that they were there at all astonished everyone.

       "Well look who's here! Morning boys, how are you after all that ale? Got a headache, Sam?" Rosie teased.

       Sam grunted. "Morning, your Majesty, Your Highness. Morning, love. Tea?" he added plaintively, slumping into a chair.

       Frodo waved at the three, and collapsed next to Sam. "Tea," he repeated, gazing blankly at the table. He was paler than usual and his eyes looked somewhat red, and combing his hair had clearly been beyond him since the dark curls were all over the place. He looked rather dazed and Eowyn had to look away before she started giggling.

       Rosie supplied tea without comment, and Frodo took the sugar bowl and added four spoons to his cup. He stirred it very quietly and then drank it quickly, as though it were medicine. When he had downed it he wordlessly handed the cup to Rosie for a refill. After three cups, he sat back, wiggled his toes and risked a sideways glance at Sam, who had also drunk a lot of tea.

       "Better?" he enquired, a little huskily. "I'd be dead without the tea."

       "Reckon I'll live. In fact, I think I could manage some breakfast now," Sam replied, peering at the table. One of the servants took a plate and went to the side table, which was laden with everything a hobbit could possibly desire for first or second breakfast.

       Frodo contented himself with dry toast, not caring to risk anything else yet. He nibbled cautiously and then smiled at the three smirking women.

       "Alright, yes, we were extremely drunk last night, and I don't like to think what sort of state I'd be in now, if I hadn't taken Sam's advice and drunk two glasses of water before I fell asleep. Bilbo was right - it does work."

       "We heard the .......ah........singing!" said Eowyn, unable to stifle her giggles any longer. "It was ........er.........most educational!"

       "'Nineteen Nights in Nobottle'! You two should be ashamed!" said Rosie, her shoulders quivering with suppressed laughter. "I'd never have believed that you knew the words to that one, Frodo Baggins!"

       "I am, I am. Can't quite believe it myself, Rose. Mind you, everyone was singing it, not just me. Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir singing obscene songs - complete with hand gestures!"

       Arwen's laughter exploded. "Oh were they? Wait till they emerge - I'll give them a talking to!" Her dark blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "I think the sight of the Prince of Mirkwood with a hangover would be most amusing, don't you?" Perhaps we should take him some tea soon.........."

       "My lady Arwen," murmured Rosie, "Your wicked mind matches mine - I was thinking much the same!"

                                                                               ************

       Legolas tried to think positively. Elves were immortal. They could only be killed in battle or die of grief. Nowhere had he read that an Elf could die from too much alcohol or the resulting headache. He was uncertain if that was a good thing. He had been drunk before, of course, but never quite that drunk. Vague memories of very vulgar songs drifted through his fuddled brain. Had he really been singing words like that? He groaned at the memory. Worse, he had drunk ale instead of wine, and ale and Elves did not mix terribly well.

       The sound of female laughter in the passage outside his room brought him back to the present. Someone said "Ssshhhh!" and there was a light tap at the door. Legolas risked a peep, wincing at the bright light from the window. The door opened and in stepped the Queen, Lady Eowyn and Rosie, bearing a tray.

       "Feeling rather fragile, Legolas?" the Queen enquired, trying not to smirk. "We brought you some tea."

       "Th........thank you," he murmured. He heard Eowyn splutter and felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. She was laughing at him! He sat up and glowered. "I suppose you're enjoying yourselves at my expense?"

       "Poor dear, I don't suppose he's used to hangovers," said Rosie, her eyes twinkling. "Try and drink the tea, pet, it will make you feel better."

       Legolas peered at the brown liquid and shuddered, but he closed his eyes and gulped it down. For a few moments he struggled with his stomach, which was busy telling him it did not want this, but finally he opened his eyes and mumbled, "That's...........better."

       Arwen smiled. "You'll live. You should see Estel. He looks terrible! Little Gilraen went in and woke him, and he was not very happy."

       "He looked rather green," said Eowyn, chuckling. "And my husband is no better. He and Beregond staggered down a few minutes ago, both clutching heads and whispering. Haven't even seen Merry and Pippin yet."

       Legolas drank a second cup. "What about Gimli? Is he up yet?" He had always dismissed the hobbits' claims that tea was a cure for hangovers, but he was beginning to appreciate its curative properties.

       "No, he isn't. So you're one up on him, which you can tease him about for months!" Rosie giggled. "I think we'd best leave this poor lad to get dressed, and see if we can assist any other sufferers. After all, can't have gossip about ladies visiting him in his room while he's in a state of undress, now can we?"

       "Certainly not!" the royal ladies chorused, and they departed, only to collapse in hysterics in the corridor.

                                                                               ************

       Eventually everyone surfaced, delicate and a little pale but happy to be together. The King pulled himself together enough to mix one of his own cures, and by early afternoon they were all having a late luncheon. The children were sitting at their own table, talking excitedly about plans for the next few days. There was much to see, and Legolas and Gimli were to take the hobbits on a tour of the city the next morning.

       Lord Celeborn sat with his youngest great-grandchild on his lap. Melian wrapped her tiny fingers round one of his, and gazed into his face. Elf babies were very aware, and she seemed to possess an extraordinary gravity for a child of five months. He smiled down at her, and she responded with a huge smile. He reached out and stroked her cheek, and she cooed softly.

       "She is enchanting, my child." He looked at Arwen. "She is much like you at that age." He looked at little Theodwyn, who was sleeping in her mother's arms. "Look at the contrast of colouring - these red-gold curls against Melian's black. Beautiful!" Then he nodded at baby Pip, awake and looking at the food around him. "Now there is a young hobbit! Not yet six months, and already eyeing the food on offer!"

       Rosie laughed. "We certainly chose the right name for him! Takes after his uncle where food's concerned! He'll eat us out of house and home when he's older!"

      "Isn't this wonderful?" Frodo leaned back. "I cannot believe I'm here, and with all my friends about me."

       "To see you here, my dear friend, warms my heart and makes me happier than I can say," said Aragorn softly, hugging Frodo. We have so much to catch up on. And in September you will see how we celebrate your birthday. The people of the city have been awaiting your presence on the day and they are all overjoyed. It will be very special."

Sam said little, but his look of contentment spoke for him as he gazed around the room. "I don't think it could be any better," he said.

                                        ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

July 1429 SR

While the hobbits reminisced with Legolas and Gimli and gazed out over the White City, Eowyn and Arwen took their menfolk into the peace of the Queen's apartments to relate what Rosie had told them. Aragorn in particular was very deeply affected by the details of Frodo's despair and suffering, and he wept as Arwen described the days during which he was expected to die. She remembered finding Aragorn with Sam's letter in his hands, wracked with grief, and knew that he was reliving those moments. She held his hand as she talked softly of Sam's faith and his use of the star-glass.

       "Sam is the most remarkable of hobbits. He has such faith and his love for Frodo sustains him above all else. He was so sure that it would help - after all, Ananeth did say it would be a light in dark places."

       "If only I'd known he was in such despair. I should have realised when his letters grew shorter and less frequent. I could have used the palantir to see what was really going on. Although I try to be sparing in its use, that is one occasion when it would have been justified. I should have seen through the forced cheerfulness to the anguish beneath, but I allowed myself to be fooled, because I wanted to believe that he was happy. I should have gone to the Shire and hammered on the door for admittance. I might have spared him all that ............................."

       "Estel, my dearest, even you would not have been able to get through to Frodo as he was. It took my Naneth and Mithrandir and his own parents to finally convince him that he was worthy of love. Do not start berating yourself over this. Frodo would be the first to tell you that you bear no blame."

       "Indeed I would," said a soft voice behind them. Aragorn whirled round and ran to Frodo, kneeling to embrace him.

       "Forgive me, dear friend, I had to know what happened. I wanted to understand...................You can tell me to mind my own business if you think I've intruded..............." Aragorn looked guilty and Frodo hastened to reassure him with a hug.

       "Arargorn, why should I mind you knowing? You are one of my dearest friends, after all. Rosie told me that she had related the whole tale to Arwen and Eowyn and I knew they would want to tell you. What happened to me was terrible in some ways but wonderful in others because it gave me a glimpse of something rare and beautiful. I have my life back and I've learned to accept the love of my friends. Everything happens for a purpose."

       "I just wish you would allow me to give you the rewards you deserve. I want to present you with the Star of the Dunedain and..............." He stopped as Frodo pressed a finger to his lips.

      "Give it to Sam. You have given me your love and friendship, and that is more than enough." They stared at each other, both greatly moved. Aragorn nodded and pulled Frodo close for another hug.

       "As you wish, dear Frodo. That is very easy for me to give." He laughed and brushed away the tears on both their faces. "Is the scar on your shoulder much changed? It was always so cold and white - unnaturally so."

       In answer Frodo unbuttoned his shirt and slid the left side down. Aragorn saw that the single white line had been replaced by something resembling a multi-pointed star, where Frodo had gouged at it in his anguish. The new skin was not deathly white but a pale pink. He stretched out a hand and touched it carefully with one finger. There was no chill, and Frodo did not flinch. He remembered watching over Frodo at Cormallen, seeing the light shimmering around him with only the Morgul scar seeming to consume that light. Now even the scar was glowing faintly.

       "It is a miracle!" the King said softly, gazing at Frodo, who smiled. Aragorn also noticed that Frodo's smiles reached his eyes again. "I don't think I ever saw you smile properly after that time in Hollin, when Boromir was teaching Merry and Pip to fight. Sam had just brought you something to eat and you were laughing at your cousins' antics. Then events moved too far and too fast for us and you never really smiled again." He pulled Frodo in for another massive hug and fumbled for his handkerchief. "Look at me - you would think I'd be able to control my emotions by now," he said ruefully.

       "You do so in public, Estel my love," Arwen said comfortingly. "Here you are among friends and family, and entitled to let your guard down a little."

       He nodded, then gently refastened Frodo's shirt. "It is always the innocent who suffer. That has always made me angry; it is why I spent years as a Ranger, so the innocent would be protected, but in the end I could not protect everyone.....could not protect you, Frodo." He was kneeling in front of the hobbit, as he had so many times in the past. Frodo laced his hands round Aragorn's neck and smiled.

       "Our paths diverged at Amon Hen. You had your appointed task and so did I, and with the help of the Valar we both succeeded and we both lived to tell the tale. Had you accompanied me, Rohan and Gondor might have been ravaged and laid waste, and I doubt we could have sneaked into Mordor with you and not have Sauron notice. You were distracting him from outside. Besides, if you had been killed in Mordor then Gondor would have lost its last hope and there would not be a White Tree in the courtyard now. Everything happens for a reason, ........Strider." He used the name shyly but the King's face lit up and he kissed Frodo's brow almost reverently.

       "So long as you bear me no ill will, my friend. That I could not bear."

       "Silly! You saved my life on more than one occasion, and I have always thought of you as one of my very dearest friends."

       "It was your courage and willingness to take on that burden during the Council which forced me to look deeply into myself, and take up my own responsibilities. Perhaps I flatter myself but I feel we are kindred spirits."

       "I think I'm the one being flattered - a hobbit of the Shire as kindred spirit to one with your noble ancestry. Besides, what will your people think if you start claiming kinship with Mad Baggins?"

       Aragorn smiled. "They would not recognise the name. They refer to you as 'Lord Frodo' or 'the Ringbearer' and would be deeply shocked to learn that anyone called you anything else."

       Faramir and Eowyn were also very moved by this, and she reached up to brush a tear from Faramir's cheek. Arwen glanced at them from her place behind Aragorn, and exchanged a smile with Eowyn. It was very touching to watch the King of Gondor and the small hobbit, so different and yet so close. Arwen kneaded her husband's shoulders gently and he shook himself.

       "This will not do!" he said suddenly. "I'm being a sentimental ninnyhammer, as Sam would say! Come, sit down, Frodo." He stood, holding out his hand to his friend. "Those children of Sam and Rosie's sound so well-behaved. Are they always good?"

       "Good? No! They can be little terrors when they're in the mood, although they were wonderful when I was ill. I knew I was better when they started playing up again!" Frodo laughed at the memory. He followed Aragorn back to the couch and sat down. "They've left grass snakes in my bed, put salt in the sugar bowl and flooded the place on more than one occasion! They also have their squabbles, as I'm sure you understand. One minute they're playing quietly and the next there's a full-scale riot going on! I've had to learn to wade in and grab the main troublemakers when that happens, and I regret to say it is usually Ellie who starts the squabbles. She has a very wilful streak, I'm afraid. Rosie is much better than I am at breaking up the fights, but I'm improving!"

       Faramir sat on Frodo's other side. "You really do look well now. All that food from the women of Hobbiton and Rosie's excellent cooking must have paid off."

       "Yes, I've eaten like a king this past year and a half. That reminds me though, Aragorn. I have a bone to pick with you!" He turned to the King. "Fancy sending out a letter to the hobbits of the Shire! You surely did not know what you were starting there!"

       Aragorn looked suitably sheepish. "How was I to know they'd send food parcels to Bag End?" he protested, grinning. "I found their attitude towards you too much to bear and I just wanted them to understand what you had done and appreciate you more."

       "Oh Aragorn, we're hobbits! Everything is equated with food in the Shire! I became very well acquainted with Mrs. Bracegirdle's steak and mushroom pies, I must say."

       "And her bosom, from what we've heard!" said Faramir, falling back on the cushions and shaking with laughter. He glanced over Frodo's curls at the King, who was smirking.

       "Oh yes, that too. Thank you for reminding me!" Frodo pretended to glower at Faramir. "I'm glad my encounter with Hyacinth Bracegirdle's bodice has provided so much amusement!" He chuckled. "Pippin now refers to her cleavage as the Gap of Rohan!"

       Their loud laughter was interrupted by the guards outside snapping to attention. The door opened to reveal Sam and a very tall young soldier wearing the insignia of the Citadel.

       "Not sure if you recognise this young gentleman, Frodo?" said Sam with a smile as the soldier saluted the King, then bowed to everyone. Frodo frowned as he tried to think.

       "Sir, this is an honour and a delight to see you again. When you last saw me I was a good deal smaller - a match for your young cousin Peregrin, who became my good friend." He smiled into Frodo's eyes and suddenly looked boyish. Frodo gasped.

        "Bergil!" He threw his arms round the young man's neck. "Goodness! Of course you've grown - it's ten years since we met and you were only ten. Look at you! So tall, and in uniform!"

        "Hope you're looking after my handsome young escort!" said Rosie from the doorway. "He is going to accompany us on our sightseeing and I have first claim!" She winked and took Bergil's hand. He grinned at Sam.

       "I am hopelessly enchanted by your wife, Master Samwise!"

       "Isn't everyone?" Sam said. "And you haven't even tasted her cooking yet! Perhaps one day you will visit us in the Shire and taste the famous cheese tartlets, the parsnip pie and her magnificent beef and kidney pudding. No wonder I'm having trouble with my buttons these days!" He patted his middle, which had certainly expanded. Frodo chuckled.

       "Well Sam, as Merry said, you do look suitably Mayoral these days, and I think roundness is obligatory for the Mayor, although you still aren't a patch on Old Flourdumpling for waist measurement!"

                                                                              ************

       Minas Tirith had certainly changed since the Ring War, Sam thought as they made their way down from the Citadel, Pippin having suggested, quite sensibly for once, that they start at the bottom level and work their way back. The crushed masonry, fallen walls and ruined buildings he remembered had all gone, replaced by sparkling white stone, ornate fountains, gates and railings of finely wrought metal, and flowers spilling from every window sill, wall, terrace and most of the individual houses and inns. Everyone wanted to shake their hands and speak with them, so progress was rather slow. People greeted Pippin as "the Prince of the Halflings" which made him blush, and he shoved Frodo forward.

       "This is my cousin, Frodo Baggins, the Ring-bearer! He is more worthy of that title than I!"

       "Wait till we get back to the Citadel, you ..........you ...... Took!" Frodo muttered under his breath, as people everywhere rushed to greet him. He spent the rest of the walk hiding between Legolas and Bergil, grumbling about loose-mouthed Tooks.

       By the time they reached Lampwright's Street, where all the inns were, they were more than ready for a rest and a pint of good ale. Bergil and Gimli led the way into one establishment, called the Eagle. It had been named so in honour of the Eagles who rescued Frodo and Sam from Mount Doom on that terrible day ten years before, and the landlord was overwhelmed to meet them at last. He had been helping to defend the city at the time and had never forgotten the terror, or the relief. He showed them to a private room where they could rest without disturbance, and they all flopped down with a collective sigh.

       "Oh! I need a rest - that walk seems to grow longer every time!" The voice, surprisingly, did not belong to Frodo, but Pippin. Merry agreed.

       "You know your trouble?" said Sam, who could not resist the temptation to tease the two. "You ride ponies everywhere and you're getting lazy!"

       Frodo took up the challenge. "Sam's right! It's always the same with the gentry!"

       "That from Frodo Baggins, the noblest gentlehobbit of them all!" said Merry, laughing. "You're gentry too, Baggins!"

       "Ah! But I live a humble life, and very rarely ride anywhere." He sipped his ale and grinned.

       Pippin snorted. "Considering you walked half-way across Middle Earth, I'm surprised you can face walking anywhere ever again! Merry and I were only Orc-dragged half way across Rohan and that was enough! Riding on Shadowfax gave me a taste for it though. The speed frightened me but it was exciting too, you know." He half closed his eyes at the memory of the wind in his hair and the blur of the road beneath the magnificent horse as they sped towards Minas Tirith.

       The arrival of luncheon interrupted Pippin's reverie and he gave his full attention to the food, which was excellent. They ate and talked, and then sat back, the menfolk lit their pipes,and Sam sighed contentedly. Beside him, Rosie took out some tatting she was working on for lace trim for the little girls' dresses. He patted her and slipped an arm round her waist and she leaned into him gently while she worked. On his other side Frodo also leaned against Sam's comforting bulk, wriggling until he was comfortable. How often had this been his only comfort in the Black Land? He wondered how he could have contemplated leaving Sam and his friends, Rosie and the children, and silently thanked the Valar yet again for bringing him home. Sam WAS home, had always been home, carrying with him the smell of soap, pipeweed, sunshine and flowers. He looked at Sam's face, tanned and smiling.

       "Your eyes went all distant, me dear, but you didn't look unhappy. Are you alright?"

       "I'm fine, Sam. I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you and Rose and all my dear friends and to be here with you all."

       "Now then," murmured Rosie softly. "Any more of this and Legolas and I will be little soggy puddles." She looked across at the Elf, who was smiling with tears in his eyes, watching Frodo intently.

      Gimli glanced at him. "Don't upset yourself, laddie." He patted the slim hand resting on the table. "You're quite emotional for an Elf, aren't you?"

       "It's why my father didn't want me to get involved with mortals. He is afraid that if I become too attached I will know too much grief when..........when................you.........." He paused, unable to say the word.

       "When we die? That is a fate all us mortals share, but we believe in a life afterwards, with those we love. That is how we bear it." Gimli smiled fondly. "And Frodo here learned the truth of that, didn't you, lad?" Frodo nodded, reaching across the table to rest his small hand in the Elf's.

       "But death is not my fate," Legolas said sadly, "And therefore I will not see you all again once you have left this world, even if I were killed in battle. No wonder it is called the Gift of Men. It is why Queen Arwen has chosen as she has, that she may be with Aragorn forever once he passes."

       "But you will have other friends, Legolas. You will make new friends, I'm sure." Merry tried to cheer their friend, who was normally so happy and calm.

       "I do not think I will ever have such friends, nor do I wish to. We have a special bond of fellowship and love, and I shall never find such friends again in all of Middle-earth."

       There was silence for several minutes as they all contemplated these words and wondered what it would mean for their friend in the future. Then Legolas laughed suddenly in one of his mercurial changes of mood, and hastened to the door to call for more ale.

       "You must forgive me, my friends. I don't know what came over me - although I mean what I said about our bond. We have a special fellowship and nothing can ever break it. And we will celebrate it with another drink!" He poured the last of his wine into his goblet and waited until everyone had a refill. "To the Fellowship and to all of us.! May we always be united in love!"

       Pippin looked around. "Do you know, I'm hungry again!"

                                                                               ************

       Revived, they continued their wanderings, exclaiming over the new buildings and fine carving. Groups of dwarves stopped working to show them what had been achieved. They were keen to show what they had done for they were justly proud of their workmanship, but they were also curious to meet the hobbits,especially a relation of Bilbo Baggins. Frodo showed a genuine interest in everything , and they were very amused when he laughed at the dwarven curse one of the group let loose when he caught his thumb with the hammer.

       "My uncle Bilbo taught me that one when I was fifteen! Thankfully Cousin Saradoc never discovered what it meant!"

       "You must all come and drink with us in one of our taverns," said one of the dwarves. "We would deem it a great honour." He bowed to Legolas. "You too, Master Elf!"

       "We will arrange a special evening - who knows, perhaps others would like to join us?" said Gimli with a conspiratorial wink. Occasionally their old friend Strider made a reappearance and joined them in the city incognito for a merry evening, often with Faramir and Beregond in tow. The dwarves looked pleased, and it was agreed that there would be an evening in a dwarf tavern. Even Rose was invited. She was a little doubtful as she thought there would be no other women to talk with. There were few dwarf women and they were impossible to distinguish from the men, so she'd heard. Still, it would be something to tell the women of Hobbiton, since she shrewdly supposed that females of any species were rarely invited into a dwarf tavern. It must be the proximity with a Baggins and several Brandybucks and Tooks giving her such adventurous notions.

                                                                              ************

       Rosie found the city confusing but exciting. They walked up and down staircases, through alleyways and into courtyards, and everywhere people stopped to talk and shake their hands. By the time they arrived back at the Citadel it was past tea time and they were all hungry. The King was waiting for them, and he drew them in to the comfort of the private apartments.

       "I was beginning to think you'd all become hopelessly lost, although you had three experienced city guides with you," he said once they were settled among the cushions, sipping tea and loading plates from the large and overloaded table in the centre of the room.

       "We had lunch at the "Eagle" and inspected the new building works, and we met some of Gimli's friends, who have invited us for a night out," said Pippin as he tried to decide which of the sandwiches he should eat first.

       Aragorn's face lit up. "Oh! A night out with the dwarves............I think we'll come with you." He looked at Faramir, who nodded eagerly.

       Frodo studied Faramir. Ten years of service to a noble and generous king, and marriage to a loving woman who had given him a proper home and three children, had certainly changed the young man. He had been through so much pain - always trying to please his terrifying father, the early death of his mother, the hostility Denethor showed towards him for his love for Gandalf, the loss of poor Boromir, and the knowledge that his father had gone out of his mind at the end of his life and tried to take Faramir with him. Pippin had spoken of that awful day, the light of madness in Denethor's eyes as he lit Faramir's funeral pyre and tried to kill them both. Faramir had been so unsure of himself in the months following the King's coronation and it was wonderful to see him now, confident and assured, although he still looked intently at both Eowyn and Aragorn for approval sometimes, which Frodo found very touching.

       "Faramir," he said softly, "I should very much like to visit Boromir's memorial in Rath Dinen and pay my respects. Would that be possible?"

       Faramir rested a hand on Frodo's shoulder and gazed at him, his eyes very bright with unshed tears. He knew what his brother had done when the call of the Ring became impossible to ignore, and he was very moved that Frodo still wanted to remember Boromir with respect, and even affection.

       "Of course, Frodo. Merry and Pippin often visit there, but I should deem it a special honour if you were to do so, knowing that your last meeting was not a pleasant one............" His voice choked slightly and tailed off. The hobbit reached up and embraced the man, trying to reassure him.

       "I have always thought of Broromir with affection. He was a very brave man who gave his life to try and save my cousins. He risked his life to save me, more than once, braving the Watcher in the Water and dragging me off the Bridge of Khazad 'Dum, and most important of all, I shall never forget his gentle words of encouragement in Lorien when I was blaming myself for Gandalf's fall. He was a valued and valuable member of the Fellowship and as long as any of us are alive he will be remembered. I'm hardly one to blame another for being taken by the Ring, after all."

       Faramir swallowed. The room was very quiet, everyone watching this exchange. Sam eyed his master without surprise. He knew Frodo wanted to make his peace with the ninth member of the Fellowship, and no doubt he would accompany him and do likewise. It was more than time.

       Frodo laughed ruefully. "Poor Boromir! Eru knows what he made of the motley crew he found himself in! I don't know what he thought of us hobbits, lazy, peace-loving and always eating! We must have been a sad disappointment to him, although he did teach Merry and Pip how to fight. Thank goodness he did too, or they might not be here now, and the Shire might never have been cleansed. We have a little memorial garden for Boromir at Bag End, you know? Silly really - I don't think Boromir liked flowers, but we wanted to do something."

       "Oh! Really?" Faramir was deeply moved. "He didn't know much about flowers but he appreciated their beauty sometimes, when he was quiet and at peace. I'm sure he would be touched to know you have done that. I know I am."

       "It was an honour to plan and plant it too, my lord," said Sam. "I didn't know his favourite flowers but there's a lot of red - for sacrifice - and white - for the White Tree. Lots of forget-me-nots too, and shrubs and long grasses to give colour in the winter. Perhaps one day you'll visit the Shire and see it for yourself, sir?"

       "I should like that very much, Sam, if the King will grant me leave from his edict that no Big People are to enter the Shire," said Faramir, his voice still a little unsteady. "I suppose if I were visiting the Mayor................"

       "Exactly!" said Sam, grinning. "I grant you permission to enter the Shire when you will. The King too, of course, and your families. What's the point of being the Mayor if you can't do something like that occasionally?"

       Frodo looked around. "Sam was more than happy to do that, but I think my other request threw him a bit. He humoured me, of course, but I'm sure he thought I was cracked after my illness." He looked at Sam, who smiled and shook his head. "I said I wanted a little water garden as a memorial for poor Smeagol. I fully expected him to erupt with "That Stinker?! If you think I'm remembering him.........." but he didn't. Just looked at me and said, "Oh aye" and asked me what I had in mind. And I'd been full of trepidation at the thought of asking him too!"

       "Don't know why - it's your garden, after all!" protested Sam. "Anyway, after the Valar gave you back to us I was fair ready to walk to Gondor on my hands and bring you a cutting from the White Tree if that's what you wanted. Planting a water garden for that poor wretch seemed a small thing to do."

       "It's your garden too, Sam. We live at Bag End as a family and it's your home. I wasn't telling you to do it - just asking if you'd mind." Frodo smiled at Sam, whose eyes were soft with love for his friend and master.

       "How could I mind anything? The more I thought about it the more it seemed like the right thing to do."

       Aragorn shook his head in disbelief. "My dear Frodo, you never cease to amaze me! All you went through, and you're still thinking of others." He glanced at his Steward, who was still blinking back tears. "I think that is a beautiful thing to do."

       "If there's time when we go on our trip to Ithilien, I'd like to............." Frodo gazed down at his hands for a moment, thinking. ".............go into Mordor, if I can.....pluck up the courage.......Somehow it would help to ........... ...................." Sam's mouth had fallen open with shock. He was not expecting that.

       "Lay the ghosts?" said Aragorn gently. "Yes, I'm sure we can arrange that - not to go far in, of course, but if you want to see what it looks like now, we will do it." He smiled encouragingly at the hobbit. "Faramir has been in there several times."

       "Yes, and it has changed. Still polluted but there's so much lava and pumice around that the soil and rock you walked on is buried forever. Insects and small creatures are starting to colonise the crevices, and weeds have somehow found a roothold in that inhospitable rock. The thorn bushes you mentioned are still there, and the streams are still visible in places. Now the thick cloud has gone, there is rainfall and sunlight, and the mosses and lichens thrive and cover the bare rock more and more. I did not think anything would ever grow there, but I've been proved wrong."

       Sam smiled.. "Nature always finds a way. And weeds grow anywhere, although a weed is only a wildflower in the wrong place, so my old Gaffer used to say. And, begging your pardon, Frodo, but if you're aiming to go into Mordor again, I'm coming with you! You didn't lose me last time and you're not going without me now!"

       "We'd be curious to see it, wouldn't we, Merry?" said Pippin, who had finally stopped eating for a moment. Merry nodded, licking a blob of cream off one finger.

       "We once said we'd go with you to Mordor, Fro, and now we will. Have you seen it, Aragorn?" he enquired. The King shook his head.

       "I've not really had the time, but I have made time for your visit and the stay in Ithilien, so I would also be interested to see the Plain of Gorgoroth now. We will make an expedition of it."

       "We're coming with you!" said Legolas and Gimli together. "The Fellowship together again   .......... almost. I'm sure Gandalf sees what goes on in Middle-earth and approves." Legolas was sparkling, almost bouncing in his seat with excitement.

       "A boy's camping trip!" said Eowyn, rolling her eyes. "I think we'll stay in Emyn Arnen, ladies?" She glanced at Arwen and Rosie, who agreed.

       Rosie laughed. "I don't fancy taking a baby into Mordor, and we can't very well leave them behind as they're not weaned yet. We shall stay behind in Ithilien and talk about you till your ears burn!"

       "Then it is decided!" said the King cheerfully. "We shall have a look at Mordor. We can go in without going round to the Morannon - we found a use for Saruman's wretched blasting powder when we tore down the towers and opened up the Morgul Pass."

       "Letting in the daylight! we called it," said Faramir. "We wondered about getting Treebeard and his friends to come and throw them down but in the end we used the blasting powder and great hammers. And if the great spider survived your attack, Sam, she is now buried under tons of rock and rubble."

       "Glad to hear it," muttered Sam. He turned his attention to his plate with gusto and was relieved to see that Frodo was doing the same. He had feared that talking about these things would cause too much distress but Frodo seemed serene, sipping his tea and eating a mushroom tartlet with enthusiasm.

       "Now," said Pippin, "What about that night out with the dwarves?"

                                           ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Minas Tirith. July 1429 SR

Silent Street lived up to its name as Frodo and Sam accompanied Faramir to the House of the Stewards. The early morning sun was already hot and the shady approach provided a cooling welcome. There was no sound save for the soft pad of Faramir's boots as they made their way past the statues and passed through the door, then made their way down into Rath Dinen and to the burial place of the Stewards of Gondor.

       The doors swung back as the guards saluted. The Steward acknowledged the salute and carefully closed the door behind them, ensuring peace and privacy. He always experienced mixed emotions in this place, where memories of childhood grief merged with a desire to sit and talk to his beloved mother. He supposed he was lucky not to remember the day of his father's death, although he sometimes dreamed of shouting and the smell of smoke.

       Frodo was relieved not to feel any spiritual echoes of Denethor's hideous death. He gazed around and found himself staring at effigies and names he recognised from his studies of Gondorian history - Hurin, Belecthor, Thorondir, Turgon, Orodreth, Hador, Barahir.....

       Faramir led them to a massive plinth, on which stood a black marble bust of his brother. He paused and glanced down. The hobbits did likewise and saw a simple inscription on a stone

                                               Finduilas, wife to Denethor II TA 2950 - 2988

       "It is the most painful thing of all, to lose a mother," Frodo whispered. "We have all been through that, and you were younger than either of us when yours departed this life." He murmured something in Sam's ear and they placed some of their flowers on the stone.

       Faramir tried to speak but was undone by the sight of the two small hobbits kneeling beside his mother's final resting place.

       "She must have been a right sweet lady," said Sam

       "Why do you say that?" Faramir asked.

       "Stands to reason.You're her son and very like her, I reckon."

       "Sam's right, as usual. I can imagine what she might have been like, and I think she would have been - no, she is - very proud of you." Frodo glanced up and saw tears sliding down Faramir's cheek.

       The life-size bust had been carved by someone who had seen Boromir at close quarters. The sculptor had succeeded in capturing the proud features but he had managed to depict the Man's kindness and courage also. Here was the person who had undertaken the journey to Rivendell because the way was fraught with danger and he wanted to protect the younger brother he loved. Here was the warrior who had tried to save Merry and Pippin, and died doing so.

       Sam placed his flowers in a vase and bowed, then he and Faramir retreated a little to give Frodo some privacy. The Steward was aware that Frodo wanted to make his peace with Boromir and needed time alone to gather his thoughts.

       The hobbit placed his flowers in the vase to the right of the bust, and allowed his hand to rest on the plinth, the marble cool beneath his fingers. He thought of the proud Man as he had first seen him at the Council of Elrond, describing the dream, his grey eyes flashing as he dared any to challenge him. At that time he had seen Aragorn as a threat, but thankfully he had seen sense at the end. There was much nobility in his character, and warmth too, as he had demonstrated with Merry and Pippin, and his compassion to Frodo after Gandalf's death had been as welcome as it was unexpected. In his mind Frodo had a sudden vivid image of Boromir and a woman gazing out across a tranquil sea.

       "The White City did not fall," he murmured, "And your people did not fail. You redeemed your honour at the last, which is more than I could manage. Be at peace, Son of Gondor."

       After a long and thoughtful pause Frodo rejoined the other two.

       "Your mother has him in her keeping. I am sure of that."

       Faramir looked at him, his eyes hopeful. "You think so? I should like to think of them together."

       "I saw them in my mind. I have these visions sometimes - since the Quest. The Lady Galadriel thought the Ring had given me some sort of ability, and although most of its effects have been cured I still see things from afar, or events which have not yet happened."

       "Thank you for sharing that with me. You have eased my spirit, my dear Frodo." He guided them out into the air and they walked back to the sunshine of the Courtyard of the Fountain, and second breakfast.

                                                                               ***********

       Rose decided to stay at home when the others went to the dwarf tavern. The three women sat contentedly in Arwen's chambers, the children playing around them and the babies gurgling and kicking, watching indulgently as their menfolk prepared to leave. They were all clad simply and wore plain cloaks. Faramir and Beregond wore their dark green cloak of the Ithilien Rangers, and the King, the hobbits, Legolas and Gimli wore their Lorien cloaks.

       "Like little boys, aren't they?" Rose murmured, to laughter from the two women.

       "Estel likes to sneak out sometimes, dressed in his ranger garb, and wander the streets. He sometimes finds being King rather stifling after his earlier freedom. I don't begrudge him these nights out." Arwen looked down and smiled at baby Pip, who was lying in her lap. He was experimenting with the important task of putting his toe in his mouth, and there was an expression of profound concentration on his face which she found captivating.

       The group stole out from the side gate, past the unsuspecting bodyguards who had no idea that their sovereign was off to spend the evening in a tavern. Only the Captain of the King's Bodyguard noticed the tall, loping figure in an Elven cloak and he sighed heavily. The King certainly made his job difficult, but hopefully there would be no unexpected hazards in the city this night. The man had been a ranger after all, skilled in tracking and avoiding danger. He could hardly oppose the King's will directly, even though there were still some discontented elements in Rhun and Harad who might seek to assassinate him. After a few moments deliberation, the Captain sent four guards to follow discreetly and keep an eye on the party.

       They were not really noticed as they walked down to the second level, where the dwarf tavern was situated. The Elven cloaks shielded them, and all most people saw were flitting shadows. Faramir walked beside the King on one side, Beregond on the other.

       "There are four men following us," Faramir murmured to Aragorn.

       "Yes, they're members of the Citadel Guard. My poor Captain despairs of me going jaunting, so he sends a few men along to make sure no ill befalls me. He thinks I do not know about it and I don't like to disillusion him. It keeps him happy."

       "I don't have a sword but I do have my dagger and I know Legolas has those white-handled knives of his - just in case."

       "I have left Anduril behind but my Lothlorien knife is with me, should we need it, although I have no intimations of danger tonight - except the usual dangers of drinking too much dwarven ale!"

       At the door of the inn, the dwarves stod aside respectfully and welcomed Gimli and Legolas and the hobbits, then bowed to the three tall Men, who were introduced as Strider, Bergil and Cirion.

       "They are Rangers from the North," Gimli explained, and they were given greeting and asked to sit.

       Strider tucked his long legs up and smiled at his companions. "Now we shall see some real drinking. In fact, it usually becomes quaffing after a while."

       "What's the difference?" Merry enquired, steadying a foaming tankard with both hands.

       Legolas chuckled. "From my observations, quaffing means getting ale in one's ears or over the person behind you."

       "In that case, Merry and Pip should have no problems since they do that naturally!" Frodo laughed.

       "We're being insulted again, Merry."

       A red-bearded dwarf approached the table carrying a tankard which he handed to Frodo.

       "A pleasure to meet you again, Master Baggins." Frodo looked at him carefully.

       "Fror! Thank you. I remember you - you came to Hobbiton once to visit Bilbo. How wonderful to see you again."

       "I'm flattered you remember after all this time. You had moved from Buckland by then, to live with your uncle - cousin, I should say."

       "That's right. I was in my tweens when you visited."

       "I also remember a gardener's lad in and out of your home, listening to Bilbo's stories and busying himself in the garden," said Fror, turning to Sam, who blushed.

       "Ah, I remember that visit, sir. You fixed the door on the kitchen stove in our home. My Mam talked about it for months."

       The dwarf smiled. "Your mother was a very kind woman, and a magnificent cook. I'm told you have inherited her skills in the kitchen?"

       Sam shook his head. "I'm not that good - but she did teach me many of her ways. I leave most of the cooking to my Rose these days."

       "Is it true that Bilbo has departed Middle-earth?"

       "Yes, he has been allowed to go to the West. I was supposed to go too, but at the last I found I could not leave Sam and his family and my cousins. We saw Bilbo board the ship with Gandalf. Funny though - neither of them seemed surprised at my decision."

       Fror glanced over at the three Men and lowered his voice as he addressed Frodo.

       "I have seen King Elessar many times in the course of my work, and that man is either his twin brother or the King himself has decided to spend a night with us."

       Frodo nodded. "He likes to get away from the responsibilities of kingship occasionally."

       "And the other two? That one looks very much like The Steward."

       Gimli slipped into the seat next to his cousin. "That's because he is the Steward. The third one is Beregond of the White Company, using his own son's name for the night."

       "Then we are more than honoured. None shall learn their true identities from me."

                                                                              ************

       "Those poor men, standing outside all this time." Faramir downed the remainder of his ale.

       Strider called to the barman. "There are four men hanging around outside......."

       "Don't worry, sir. We'll deal with them......."

       "No, no, they're guards. They.....er......they've been told to keep an eye on us - the hobbits must be kept safe after all. They don't want us to know they're guarding us. Please take them four pints of your best, and some bread and meat, compliments of Strider of the Dunedain."

       Outside in the street, four very surprised royal guards looked at each other, then down to the tray with its welcome contents.

       "So he knew we were following him?"

       "Finest tracker in the Rangers, they say. Wonder what they're doing in there?"

       "Getting drunk on dwarf ale by the looks of things," said the oldest, peering through the window.

       "He's incorrigible, that man. Always dashing into shops and talking to all and sundry. No wonder the people love him. When he needs to he can be awesome and terrible, but most of the time he's so ordinary and kind. Came to the Houses to see my wife when she was ill after the baby died. Brought her flowers and just walked in with no fuss."

       "He loves the Pheriannath so much, especially the Ringbearer. I remember him at Cormallen, after Mithrandir brought them back from Orodruin. He sat beside their beds, holding Lord Frodo's hand, his head bowed with grief. I came upon him once, pacing up and down outside the tent, muttering, 'I cannot lose him. We must not lose him, not after all he has done.' I'll never forget the look on his face. He was desperate." He looked through the window. "Look how happy he is now. Sometimes he seems tense but tonight he looks like a boy again."

       "I don't believe he still calls himself Strider!"

       "He has many names. I've heard that he served King Thengel of Rohan for a while, then he came to Gondor in Lord Ecthelion's time, and in those days he was Captain Thorongil. In the North he is Strider, although they also call him Longshanks, his given name is Aragorn, and the Elves call him Estel meaning 'Hope.' He has spent much of his time with ordinary people, and no doubt been in many taverns in all parts of the West."

       "Can you imagine old Lord Denethor wandering round the streets, dressed like any ordinary citizen and drinking with dwarves?" This provoked much laughter, and the four sat on a low wall and consumed their supper.

       The company obliged their hosts and entertained them with song and story. Sam recited his oliphaunt poem and Legolas and Strider sang an ancient Elven song of blessing. Faramir and Beregond regaled them with some Gondorian ballads and the hobbits managed to remember a few Shire ballads without bawdy lyrics. Gimli and the dwarves sang the lament for Thorin and one for the loss of Balin and the halls of Moria, which was a great honour as it was not normally performed for non-dwarves.. It was a joyful evening for everyone.

       Finally the company stumbled out into the night. Beregond forgot to duck and bumped his head on the beam, prompting chortling from the rest.

       "Gandalf was always doing that in Bag End," Frodo said. "You wouldn't think a Maia would know such words!"

       They set off, weaving their way up towards the Citadel, laughing and talking. The four guards followed some yards behind, grinning to themselves at the sight of their King, his Steward and his guests wandering unsteadily through the darkened streets.

       "Oh my! Look at that!" Frodo gazed up at the sky as they finally reached the seventh level.

       Stars danced in the dark sky above the Mountains of Shadow, like diamonds shaken on black velvet. Only tiny puffs of cloud could be seen, and the night above Mordor was clean and clear.

       "Little cloud tonight, my friends. It will be a beautiful day tomorrow. Starlight shines even upon Mordor now, with no pall of darkness to obscure them." Aragorn joined Frodo and leaned on the wall, facing east.

       "It seemed impossible to imagine Mordor without that cloud and darkness, but it is wonderful to see. It looks almost ordinary." Frodo propped his chin on his hands and smiled, allowing the wind to blow in his face and lift the dark curls.

       "Those poor guards must be tired. At least they can go off duty now," said Sam as they slipped into the Citadel. 

                                                                                *************

       Rose returned from the nursery, leaving a full and snoring baby. She removed her robe and flopped on the bed, enjoying the cool breeze which stirred her hair. The sound of laughter drifted along the corridor. There was the unmistakeable sound of someone stubbing their toe on the step, followed by a muffled curse, and Rose had to stifle her laughter in the pillow as she recognised the King's voice. A few moments later the door opened and closed. She lay still, trying not to laugh out loud at her husband's efforts to be quiet while colliding with chairs and tripping over rugs. Finally she sat up.

       "Sorry love. Didn't mean to wake you."

       "An oliphaunt crashing through a hedge would have made less noise! And was that the King stubbing his toe and swearing?" She lost control altogether and giggled hysterically, and Sam laughed too.

       "Never thought Strider knew words like that." He sprawled on the bed. "That was a good night, lass. Mr Gimli's people are very hospitable I must say."

       "Hope you're all going to be alright in the morning. There's an important outing planned, I gather."

       "We'll be fine. Wonder where we're going? Ah well, I daresay we'll find out in due course."

       There was no more conversation, and when Rose glanced at Sam he was sound asleep.

                                                                             ************

       "Today, my dear friends, we have some surprises for you. We are going to parts of this city which you have not yet seen." Aragorn was rubbing his hands in anticipation. Are we all fit and raring to go?"

      Everyone nodded. Legolas and Gimli were exchanging smiles, Eowyn looked as though she might explode with the enormity of a secret and the two boys were jumping around in excitement.

       "Why do I have the feeling there is something going on?" Frodo queried. Aragorn had suggested smart dress for the day, and Merry and Pippin were wearing their uniforms.

       The King assumed an innocent expression. "Going on? My dear friend, why would anything be 'going on,' as you put it? We're just looking forward to showing you some new places."

       "Hmmmm." Frodo sounded sceptical but he was grinning and the others laughed.

       "Stop being such a suspicious old Baggins!" said Pippin. "We're just out for the day, having fun and seeing new sights."

       "Baggins I am, and suspicious certainly, but I take issue with the old, young Pipsqueak!"

      They walked down to the sixth level, accompanied by several guards, which caused people to turn and stare. Curiosity turned to joy when they saw the King and his friends and there was much cheering.

       Aragorn smiled graciously and paused to speak with various people, to the exasperation of his bodyguards. He was sometimes careless of his own safety and they could never be sure when he would plunge into a crowd or step into a shop to look at something.

       At last they arrived at the doors of a very imposing building. It was new, the marble a brilliant white and the carvings fresh and clearly delineated. Two guards saluted the King and presented arms, then did the same for Frodo and Sam, much to their consternation. The magnificent doors swung back as they stepped in, Aragorn striding ahead. He was clearly enjoying himself.

       "This you must see, my dear friends."

       "Look, Frodo! It's a giant mathom-house!"

       "Here in Gondor we call it a museum. People want to know about the War and the Fellowship and this is the best way to teach them."

       They found themselves in a large room full of memorabilia. Eowyn took Frodo's hand in hers and led them forward. In front of them was a case containing the hilt of a sword, and that of a small dagger, with replicas of both weapons beside them.

       "Is that.............?" Frodo asked. Eowyn nodded, smiling.

      "My sword, and Merry's dagger - what is left of them."

       "There is no danger, Frodo," Aragorn murmured. "Both have been cleansed with pure water from Lorien. We kept nothing belonging to that deadly thing."

       "They have your dagger handle, Merry," Frodo said, and Merry nodded, watching as Sam drew Rose to him to see the things.

       Next to these was a large painting. Young Dernhelm, fair hair no longer contained by the helmet, grey eyes clear and cold, terror and defiance on the pale face. Her shattered shield lay in pieces at her feet. Facing her, the Lord of the Nazgul, his great beast already dead beside him. Nearby lay King Theoden, crushed beneath Snowmane, with Merry crouched over him. It was entitled 'No man am I.' 

       Rose's eyes were wide with awe. She gazed at Eowyn as though seeing her for the first time, filled with a new respect for the slender woman of Rohan.

       Above them were the banners of Rohan, of Gondor and Dol Amroth. All around them were shields, spears and swords, and the enormous construction taken from the back of one fallen mumak.

       This intrigued the two boys, and Legolas and Gimli explained how the enormous beasts were controlled, pointing to the picture above it.

       Along one wall stretched a great map of Middle-earth, and there, in different colours, were the journeys of the various members of the Fellowship. Frodo's journey was marked in red, and Rose stood on some steps to look more closely. She had seen small maps before, but this one brought home to her the scale of the journey. Here, at the top left, was Hobbiton, and she followed the red line with her finger, tracing each mountain and river. She knew how far it was to Gondor, riding safely and comfortably, and their journey had been neither. The Misty Mountains, the great River Anduin, the Emyn Muil and the expanse of the Marshes, then the Mountains and the wastes of Mordor, all now seemed much more real.

       "They walked," she whispered dazedly. "They walked all that way." She stared at the two, who were exclaiming over one of the giant siege catapults. "They actually walked all the way to Mordor."

       Arwen wrapped her arm around Rose and guided her gently to the case at the end of the room. Two guards kept vigil, heads bowed. The case contained two ragged orc cloaks, two filthy shirts and torn hobbit trousers. There was a great rip in the knee of the brown cord pants and dried bloodstains on the collar of one of the shirts. Rose recognised those clothes. Both shirts were Sam's, she could tell by the stitching, and she had seen Frodo in those trousers only the week before they left the Shire, when she bumped into him in Hobbiton market. They were ripped and ruined. Here was a witness to their sacrifice. This is what they were wearing when the great eagles brought them out of Mordor.

       Rose tried to swallow the lump in her throat, and her eyes stung so much she could no longer see anything. A great chasm seemed to open before her. Arwen hastily helped her to a seat and held her while she cried, waving the others away for a while.

       "I'm sorry. I'm being silly," Rose sniffled.

       "It is far from silly. I burst into tears the first time I saw those things, and Estel often weeps when he comes here. Many people do. Those torn clothes, the blood on Frodo's shirt collar, they are the proof of so much suffering."

       Sam cast anxious looks at Rose, and Aragorn whispered reassurance. Everyone else was staring at another painting, of the Charge of the Rohirrim. Frodo had heard about it, but to see that image of six thousand riders following King Theoden on his magnificent white horse, sweeping down upon the orcs like a wave, was to be rendered speechless.

       There were paintings of the Black Gate, with Pippin facing the great troll, of Gwaihir and his brothers carrying Frodo and Sam out of Mordor, and of the Field at Cormallen, with the two hobbits on the King's throne and the assembled host bowing. Rose re-joined them as they looked upon their own history, and she took their hands in hers.

       "Are you alright, lass?" Sam stroked a tear from her cheek.

       "I'm fine. I want you both to know how very proud I am of you. I just wish everyone in the Shire could see all this. Then they'd really understand. You are both the bravest and best hobbits, and I don't think I can ever be worthy of you."

       "Nonsense," said Frodo, greatly moved. "You were Sam's inspiration during our journey."

       "No, I wasn't," said Rose with a smile. "You were what kept Sam going, and quite right too. I think he thought of me a time or two, but it was his love for you which kept him by your side. Now," she added briskly, pointing to the catapult, "Are you going to tell me what that contraption is, before I die of curiosity?"

                                                                             ************

       A tent in the museum's courtyard provided the setting for a splendid luncheon, and Merry and Pippin encouraged the others to try some traditional Gondorian delicacies. Food in the South was often spiced and contained some exotic flavours which were new to Rose, but she soon developed a taste for them and began asking Faramir how the dishes were prepared.

       "I suspect meals at Bag End will be even more interesting from now on," said Aragorn, who had overheard her questions.

       "Doesn't do any harm to try new things, I always say."

       "Most Shirefolk would probably disagree with that, Rose. Don't they like things to stay the same?"

       "Lot of old stick-in-the-muds! Nothing wrong with a change now and then. We all need a bit of novelty, just so long as it's not every day."

                                                                             ************

       After lunch they set off for a visit to the Houses of Healing. Aragorn was most anxious that they see it, as there had been many alterations and improvements. Progress was often hindered by crowds of people wanting to greet them, shake their hands and talk, but finally they were before the Houses. There had certainly been changes: a whole new wing had been added, designed to blend beautifully with the rest, full of delicate carving. There were flowers everywhere - sweet-smelling herbs and healing plants, and those most delightful and pleasing to the eyes. Sam thought that just approaching the building made one feel better.

       Aragorn led them to the door of the new wing, his grey eyes sparkling. There was a large piece of dark material hanging above the doors, obscuring a great portion of the frontage, and a piece of blue velvet covered a smaller area to one side.

       "This building has been paid for by the citizens. Everyone from the wealthiest merchants to the humblest tradesman has contributed something." He nodded to the group of dwarf builders and they whisked away the covering above.

       Everyone stared. Frodo was wide-eyed as he looked at a great frieze. It began with a fine relief carving of the Fellowship, including Bill the Pony, much to Sam's delight, setting out from Rivendell. Other panels showed Merry stabbing the Witch-King, Pippin facing the troll, and Frodo and Sam confronting Shelob. The last panel showed the Shire at peace, fields and woods and hobbit-holes with smoking chimneys and flowers in the gardens. The detail was so fine Sam could even make out different varieties of flowering plant.

       "Why, they've even got the smoke coming out of the chimneys! And dear old Bill has a place in it. Sun and stars, but if this doesn't beat everything!"

       The Pheriannath House of Healing for Little Folk was inscribed above the door.

       "I know you have always said you wished for no monuments, my dear friend, but this is a place of healing for children, with everything planned and designed for them. Small children are often uncomfortable when treated in the same place as adults, and furniture is too big for them. You know yourself how awkward you often found it, slipping off your cushions at the feasts in Rivendell. There are rooms for children of all ages and sizes, that they might feel at ease and heal all the quicker." Aragorn spoke cheerfully but he was watching Frodo with no small amount of unease. The hobbit's face was disturbingly neutral. "And..........we'd like you and Sam to open it properly..........if you would."

       "You will open it, won't you, Lord Frodo?" said an anxious little voice from behind. Frodo turned and saw a little girl, no more than eight or nine years old, gazing at him with a pleading expression. He could see that her left arm ended abruptly just above the wrist, and was covered with a light dressing.

       "Yes, my dear child, of course I will, though I am no lord, just a simple hobbit of the Shire. Have you been treated here?" She nodded.

       "My hand got caught in a loom. I tried to be brave like you were when you lost your finger, and the Lord King came and put leaves in a bowl, and when I woke up my hand was gone. The leaves reminded me of my mother. She died when my brother was born."

       "Yes, athelas brings comfort to each person according to their needs and likings. To me it smells of the Shire on a summer's day." Frodo was bending down and looking into her eyes. "I think you were much braver than I was. I only lost one finger." He held out his hand to show her, and she took it and kissed it gently.

       "Then we shall have the ceremony," said Aragorn, sounding very relieved. "I feared you would refuse and depart. Do you think you could say a few words, my dearest Frodo?" Frodo smiled.

       "I think I can manage that. Come along, Sam, you too." He led Sam to the blue velvet and Faramir whispered what he should do. The Master of Herblore and the Chief Warden of the Houses came forward to be formally introduced.

       The little girl was joined by other children, each carrying flowers. Bouquets were presented to the Queen, Eowyn and Rose, to her stunned delight, and the men were given a spray to wear on their lapels or tucked into a belt. The sight of Gimli with a spray of purple flowers on his shoulder made everyone smile, and the stout dwarf received it graciously.

       "My dear friends," Frodo began, "I have always said I wanted no monuments, but I have been persuaded that this is different. How can I refuse something which will be so useful? A place of healing for children is a wonderful and thoughtful idea, and I thank you all for your contributions which have made it possible. We are all overwhelmed to think there is such a place named for us in this great city, and I'm sure Sam and my cousins join me in saying how grateful we are. I'm not going to imitate dear Bilbo and make a long speech, so with no more ado I declare this House of Healing open. May all those who work here be endowed with wisdom and compassion, and those who enter here at need find healing for the body, mind and spirit."

       He and Sam pulled on the cord, as instructed, and the velvet fell away to reveal a large stone with an inscription. Frodo read it and turned to Aragorn with a smile.

       "I see. Not so afraid that you failed to have the inscription already done! No wonder you were worried I might refuse! Talk about making assumptions!" He wagged an admonitary finger and the King laughed joyously. Sam traced the letters.

            This House of Healing was opened by the Ringbearers, Frodo and Samwise, on the Second                                                 Day of August, Year Eight of the Fourth Age.         

       "Come then! The Warden is beside himself with pride in this place and wishes to show you what has been achieved. Lead on, Master Warden, lead on!"

       The Pheriannath House of Healing did not disappoint. Rosie could scarcely believe how much thought had gone into the planning ot it. Tables and chairs at just the right height for each age group, cheerful and soothing surroundings, playthings for those who were recovering and even a chamber with cradles for the smallest patients. It was a strange and wonderful thing, to think that this place would be here long after she and Sam and Frodo were gone, continuing to help and heal in the name of the Pheriannath, the hobbits of the Shire.

                                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The trip to Emyn Arnen was a pleasant one, with the friends happy in each other's company. The hobbit ponies ambled along and the more powerful horses relished the chance to travel at a slower pace. Once the ladies and children were settled, the menfolk set off for the journey into Mordor. Celeborn had decided to remain in Emyn Arnen and visit some of the Ithilien Elves. He had seen enough of the effects of the Dark Lord's evil in Dol Guldur, and he wanted to see how the Elves from the Greenwood were settling in Ithilien. Young Boromir and Eldarion had protested so much at being left behind that their fathers had finally relented and allowed them to be part of the group, which made both boys feel terribly grown-up. They had promised to be very good and behave impeccably, under pain of a smacking from their mothers when they returned. Boromir knew he might be able to get away with things with his father but his mother was a different matter. Eldarion suspected that crossing either of his parents would not be a good idea, and he was determined to show everyone he was the better behaved of the two boys.

       Sam had grave misgivings, although he did not voice them to Frodo. He feared that going into that terrible place would bring back all Frodo's troubles, and he knew that Merry and Pippin shared these thoughts. During the journey from Emyn Arnen he cast anxious glances at his master, who was talking to Faramir and the children. Frodo appeared calm but Sam knew that beneath that placid surface his thoughts would be roiling as he prepared to face the land where he had endured so much and suffered so terribly. Even Sam felt apprehensive at the thought of seeing Mordor again. In the months and years after the fall of Sauron, Sam had been aware of some of the feelings his master experienced, not least the sense that, no matter how awful it had been, it had been so vivid that normal life seemed muted by comparison. Trying to recapture that, and the whirling sensations of finding himself alive that day in Ithilien, was impossible, but somehow Sam had learned to cope. Marriage and the birth of his children had helped, involving all of his being in a similar way, but it had taken Frodo much longer to come to terms with it. Less than two years had elapsed since Frodo had woken from that frightful illness, and Sam trembled with fear to think that his master might be plunged back into those thoughts. There were small lines of tension around his eyes and mouth, and his bearing was taut. Frodo was so sensitive and highly-strung, too imaginative for his own good. He seemed to think it would be helpful to return to this land; Sam was not so sure.

       They had eaten a fine supper the night before With the stream out of the Morgul Vale blocked, the River Anduin had become much cleaner, and Strider had been in his element. He had caught several beautiful gleaming fish which he showed to the others.

       "Do you know what this is? This is salmon, which only swims in clean waters. They have been back three years now. They are born in a river, go out to sea, stay there until they are ready to breed, then they return to that river, lay their eggs and die. They swim upstream and will leap waterfalls to reach the place of their birth. A remarkable creature, and very fine eating!"

       "We get salmon in the Brandywine too, but not often as big as this," said Merry, his voice full of admiration. "We smoke it too and keep it in the ice house. Makes a good meal with crusty bread - or scrambled eggs on toast."

       "I'm beginning to appreciate what poor old Gollum saw in fissssh!" said Sam.

                                                                              ************

       They were approaching the crossroads from a different direction this time, travelling north instead of south from Henneth Annun. Sam hoped the difference would make life easier for Frodo, but he feared that this would change when they turned east. He watched his master surreptitiously, looking for signs of unease. They entered a great ring of trees and Frodo gasped as he remembered the place. Here the four ways met: the road to Osgiliath and Gondor trailing west, the north way which led to Henneth Annun and round to the Morannon, the road they had just travelled wending south into the far distance, and the east road, once dark and terrible but now simply a road. No darkness or rumbling sounds disturbed the drowsy morning heat, just some faint birdsong and the droning of bees. The sky above was blue and clear, only faintly streaked with very high thin clouds like horses' tails.

       "Look! Oh Sam, the king has been restored!" Frodo cried in wonder. He pointed to the massive seated figure, ancient and mighty, which had given him hope in the darkness. The great stone head had been replaced upon the neck and all the symbols of Mordor cleansed from it. It radiated power and majesty, and strangely the trailing plant which had woven its way about the head as it lay on the ground had done so again, tiny white flowers shining in the sunlight like mithril stars.

       Sam gulped. Gimli patted him on the back and they all dismounted to take a closer look. They had all heard the story of the fallen king and the inspiration the hobbits had felt, to see that evil could not conquer everywhere.

       "This was one of the first things we restored in Ithilien," said Gimli proudly. "When I heard you talk of it I knew this would be a worthy place to begin our restoration." He stroked the stone gently. The silence was full of awe and respect. Frodo placed his hand over his heart in the manner of Gondor, and bowed.

       "Come, my friends," said Legolas, bundling his stout friend back upon Arod. "Gimli's people and mine have done much here, as you shall see. We have worked to make a garden and bring life where once there was only death."

                                                                              ************

       They rode on until they came to the great jutting rock which loomed above them. The road curled round it, close to the mountains and then began to climb, though not as steeply as Sam remembered. Then the valley appeared, deep and sloping back into the mountains. Oh Sam remembered that well enough. He shuddered as he thought of the tower with its revolving turret turning this way and that, watchful and full of evil. Yet the valley was different now. With the sun almost at its zenith the whole of it was bathed in light. There was no tower, and the once steep sides seemed less so, sloping more gently. The road wound into the distance, cleared of all fallen rubble, past the place where the gate once stood.

       Frodo had dismounted and was gazing up at the rock above. Suddenly he remembered .......... ...................... everything. The bridge; the sinister tower with its dark windows like eyes leering through the gloom; the mighty army issuing forth from the gate with the Lord of the Nazgul at its head, his ghoul's face invisible beneath his crown. The stench of Shelob's lair; the spider's red, multi -faceted eyes; the pain of the sting; waking in that filthy tower room to squealing orcs with foul breath and sharp talons pawing at him; his own rage and harsh words to poor Sam as he slowly changed, transformed into someone he no longer recognised, crazed by his need for the Ring; the agony of slow starvation and thirst; the filth and fires of Mordor; the wrench as the Ring was torn from him; the choking ash of Mount Doom; the damage to the Shire and the horror on his own doorstep; battles, deaths, violence, the voice of Saruman: " Do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither........I merely foretell...................................... "

       Legolas frowned as he saw the hobbit go pale and fierce trembling shake his small frame.

       "Frodo? Are you ill?"

       "E..............ex..........cuse me," Frodo murmured, and stumbled over to some bushes where he doubled over and was violently sick.

       "Frodo!" Sam leapt down and ran to him, catching him just as his legs buckled. He braced Frodo's forehead with one hand while the other made soothing circles in the small of his back. "It's alright, me dear, just get it all up if you need to. Don't fight it now."

       Frodo needed no second bidding. He heaved uncontrollably, his stomach muscles contracting until there was nothing left, and still he went on retching. When the dry heaves finally stopped he fell back against Sam, panting and gasping, tears of effort streaming down his face. "I'm sorry.........I'm so sorry, Sam..." he croaked. Sam silenced him gently, and wiped his lips and chin with a rag. He found a cloth, soaked it with water from his bottle and sponged his master's clammy, ashen face before draping it over his brow.

       "Nothing to be sorry for. You rest now. We don't have to do this, you know. I was afraid it would have a bad effect and it looks as though I was right. We can just turn round and go back to Emyn Arnen if you like."

       "No, Sam. I need to do this. I'll be alright, I just need a few minutes.........." Frodo closed his eyes, his head pillowed on Sam's broad chest. Sam stroked his brow, then started slightly as a shadow fell over them. It was Aragorn.

        "Come, Frodo, the sun is too fierce here. It would be best if you rested in the shade." He lifted the hobbit with great tenderness and carried him to the shade of some trees, where Faramir was spreading a blanket. Sam trotted anxiously behind and rolled up a cloak to use as a pillow. Elladan offered Frodo some water to rinse his mouth while Elrohir refreshed the cloth and bathed his face again.

       "I'm sorry.........I'm being a nuisance........." he whispered. Both Elves looked down and smiled.

       "You are most certainly nothing of the kind, my friend," said Elladan quietly. He knelt beside Frodo, his hands gentle as he loosened the hobbit's shirt collar. "The weight of memory came upon you too hard and fast. You were not prepared for it. I saw it in your face."

       "I........I remembered ......things I thought I'd forgotten............and things I did not know I remembered. I was overwhelmed ..................."

       "Hush! Rest now, and we will all sit and let our mounts frisk for a while." Elrohir's eyes were full of compassion, the light of the stars dancing in them. "Sam is right, Frodo. You do not have to continue. If this distresses you we shall turn back."

       Frodo shook his head. "I just need a little while .......to......pull myself together." He glanced at the twins, who nodded and left him with Sam and a worried-looking Merry and Pippin. They simply sat beside their cousin, quiet and still, offering him what comfort they could.

       Frodo's thoughts were racing as he remembered the Witch-King pausing, that death's head turning as though he sensed another presence in his valley. A shudder went through him at that, but no chill struck his shoulder, and he felt more hopeful that he was indeed free of the Morgul blade now. He tried to think calmly. They were only memories that had no power to hurt him. The evil that had been Minas Morgul was gone, and the tower of Cirith Ungol where he had endured such torments was no more. The king was right - he was alive and here and those who had perpetrated such evil were dead and gone, the spirits of Sauron and Saruman dispersed and fled. Saruman's words were not true, simply another instance of him using his voice to instill fear and doubt in Frodo's heart, and his parents and Gandalf had told him the truth. He had many years to live yet or they would not have been so insistent that he came back. He would not allow the lies of Mordor to infect his life.

       Aragorn drew Faramir aside. "I would not have Frodo made ill over this. He can remain here or go back to Emyn Arnen with Sam and an escort while we go on..............."

       "Blasted fussy, over-concerned Rangers!" muttered a small voice testily. "My eyes may be closed, Strider, but my ears are not! I'll be fine, really."

      "Bloody pig-headed, stubborn hobbits!" said the King, laughing.. He watched the hobbit's lips curve in a smile and felt relieved. The fearful pallor had gone and a faint pink was returning to his cheeks. He crouched down and held Frodo's hand. "We will rest and eat - you probably don't want to now, after such violent vomiting, but perhaps you'd like to sleep?"

       "I'm a hobbit, I'm not missing lunch!" said Frodo indignantly. "Besides, having lost my breakfast I shall be even hungrier than Pippin!"

       Merry snorted. "Now that is an impossibility!" Pippin tried to look suitably wounded but was too thankful to see his cousin looking more himself.

       Frodo sat up slowly, testing to see if the nausea and dizziness had truly left him. Sam propped him against his shoulder, handed him the water bottle and produced some of the crystallised ginger which always helped his nervous stomach. After a while Merry and Pip went to see if lunch was ready. They returned with bread, cheese, meat and ale, although Frodo refused ale and stuck to water. He felt much better with some food inside him, and when the others looked to him he shouldered his pack, took a deep breath and smiled. The children, who had remained at a distance, ran to embrace him, gazing fearfully into his eyes.

       "Are you alright now, Uncle Frodo?" Eldarion asked. "It must seem very strange to be here again."

       "Yes, dear, I'm fine. Just a bit overcome for a while when I first saw that rock and the valley entrance. It brought back all the memories before I was ready to deal with them. I remember crouching there in a blind fog of terror. The top part of the tower swung round in a horrible, watchful way, almost as though it knew we were there.Then I had this terrible compulsion to run across the bridge, even though the Lord of the Nazgul was riding out witha great army. The Ring was trying to drag me to him at that point, I think, but my hand found the Lady Galadriel's Star-glass and I held on to that, which helped me to fight the Ring. I can remember feeling such despair, because I knew Faramir and his men would face that terrible army. Neither of us had any hope we would ever meet again when we parted in Henneth Annun, and at that moment I knew the storm had truly broken. Little did I know what I still had to face.............." He paused, deep in thought, then shook himself.

       "I don't think I'd want to go back if all that had happened to me......." Boromir gazed up at the dark rock.

       "Everything is so different now. You have to remember that we were travelling by night, and even during the day the whole of Mordor was covered in thick cloud. Even the sunlight shunned the place. Now it is back and everything seems so...........ordinary." He hugged both boys and mounted his pony. "Well? Is everyone coming or am I going alone?"

       There was a scramble for the mounts. Beregond and Bergil took an escort ahead, marvelling once more at the resilience of this small being. The path wound towards the white bridge which was still there although the sinister carvings had been removed and new stonework added. The stream bed was dry, not full of vile steaming water and cold curling vapours, and the strange charnel flowers had vanished; one of Aragorn's first deeds had been to set fire to the meads on the approach to the Morgul Vale and Faramir had continued the cleansing, burning the loathesome and evil things which grew there. Now simple meadow plants nodded gently in the warm breeze, attracting butterflies and bees with their fresh perfume so very reminiscent of the Shire.

        They stopped and looked to the side for the First Stair. It was still there but Faramir doubted it would be possible to go far now without coming to a barrier of fallen rock. What the volcanic eruption had not brought down, Saruman's blasting powder had almost certainly toppled.

      Young Boromir fidgeted. He wanted to ask a question but was unsure if he was allowed to. Finally, unable to keep it to himself he blurted out, "Uncle Frodo, do you run screaming if you see a spider now? I............I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you did,.....only.........." He paused, disconcerted by Frodo's hearty laughter.

       "What, like Pip's sisters in the cellars at Great Smials?! No, my dear lad, I live in a house in the ground and if I screamed every time I saw a spider I'd never stop! Spiders are good for the garden, they eat all the insect pests. Sam loves them. Shelob was only a spider in shape, but really she was a sort of demon. I would look very foolish if I ran from little garden and house spiders, and the children would laugh at me. Even tiny Rosie-lass picks them up and talks to them. They would think their poor old uncle had completely lost his senses." He grinned impishly at the two boys and they laughed. They rode beside him and kept up a constant chatter until Faramir intervened.

       "Boys, you'll drive your poor uncle mad with your talking! Give him some peace, for he is having a difficult time."

       "B.....but we thought to distract him with our nonsense, Papa!" said Boromir.

       "And you are, dear boy," said Frodo. "It's alright, Faramir. They are keeping my thoughts where they should be, and it reminds me why I went into Mordor - so that children like these, and Sam and Rosie's brood, could live in peace and freedom, and chatter away happily all their young lives."

       Faramir smiled, although his blue-grey eyes were over-bright. "Well, if they are keeping you cheerful then all well and good. Don't let them nag you into insensibility though, for they would pester you with questions all the way to Mount Doom and back!"

                                                                               ************

       As they rode deeper into the valley it seemed more difficult to equate the land they now saw with the Mordor of their torment. They had not entered by this route then, and the sunlit calm was so at odds with the dark misery and looming evil Sam remembered that they could have been anywhere. Sam glanced to Frodo and was reassured by the look on his dear friend's face. Frodo looked amazed and relieved at the same time, his memories now under control. It seemed absurd that there was, and had been a road into Mordor, and here they were, riding into the Black Land, all the Fellowship save Gandalf and Boromir. The road wound until they came to where the dread Tower of Cirith Ungol had once stood. This was a little more familiar as it was here they had come when they escaped the gate and its guardians.

       Gazing ahead, Frodo could see that at the bottom the road was levelled by the lava flows which had reached the Morgai and the Mountains of Shadow. As their mounts picked their way onto the pumice, Frodo gasped as he saw what remained of the mountain.

       "It's almost gone! The top half has disappeared! Sam! Look!"

       Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The rearing, smoking monster he remembered was no more. More than two thirds of Mount Doom had been blasted into the sky after the Ring went into the fire. The westward side bore a massive hole which revealed the inside of the volcano as it now was; black, silent, without smoke or fire. The inherent evil which had kept the fires roiling and thundering for years had been removed. The final cataclysmic act of self-immolation had produced a lava flood and a rain of boiling rocks which covered the contaminated land and cleansed as it flowed. The accompanying cloud of ash and fumes might have obscured Gondor for months and ruined the harvests of the world for several years had not a great wind blown from the West which kept it over the Black Land. This was followed by massive rainstorms in Mordor which brought the dust and ash to earth safely, cooling the lava and beginning the process of turning the barren land to a more fertile place. It would never be anything other than rocky and inhospitable but ordinary things were growing in a race for life.

       Sam beamed as he dismounted and walked around, recognising plants, mosses and lichens. Odd tufts of grass sprang up here and there and tiny tenacious flowers spilled from cracks in the rock like exotic jewels, purples, whites, yellows, pinks. A small, brightly coloured lizard ran across Legolas' toe and he stooped and picked it up, laughing.

       "Hello, my little friend! You are a welcome sight, I must say. See how he tastes the air with his tongue, Sam? He seeks tiny insects and likes to sun himself on rocks. How colourful he is! How varied are the lives which the Valar have created in Arda! Each has his part to play, and there is perfect balance between them." He set the creature down and it stayed there, black eyes darting, long tongue flicking out. "His bright colours warn birds and snakes that he is poisonous, although sometimes they are not. Some disguise themselves as more poisonous types, simply to fool their enemies into leaving them alone."

      The boys were fascinated by the creature but Boromir resisted the temptation to take the lizard back with him. He had promised his mother he would bring no wildlife out of Mordor.

      "Well I'll be............! Look, Frodo! Willowherb!" Sam pointed to a tall plant with reddish-purple flowers. "That grows in the Shire!"

       "In Gondor and Ithilien it is known as Fireweed because it always grows around burned buildings and areas of dereliction," said Aragorn, kneeling to look more closely. "It likes the conditions created by burning. Look at the moss on the rocks. Rain falls here quite frequently now so the plants do not find it so difficult to survive. It will never be as lush as the Shire or parts of Ithilien but it is no longer a barren desert. Life finds a way, it seems."

       Merry and Pippin were watching Frodo carefully. He was still amazed at the destruction of the mountain, the place which had filled his vision and his consciousness for days, rising in the distance, a formidable cone of shadow and flame, constantly growling. He could scarcely believe that Mount Doom could have been so reduced.

       "You alright, Fro?" enquired Merry, worried by his cousin's lack of conversation.

       "Mmmmm. Do you know what I notice most? Sam? The silence! The mountain seemed to be constantly grumbling and threatening when we were struggling towards it. Even in my sleep I could hear it, even out in the Marshes. Now there is no sound but the wind." He turned a full circle. The orc camp, the roadway, the fissures in the ground, all vanished. Just then Elladan voiced his own thoughts.

       "How ironic and how poetically just it was, that the empire of Mordor should be destroyed by the means by which it was created. The Ring, the secret of Sauron's power, was made in those fires, and those same fires destroyed the Black Land which he created with that power. As you say, Legolas my friend, there is balance in all things!"

                                                                              ***********

       As the sun began to slide over the Ephel Duath towards the west, the party set off back through the valley. They were quiet now but it was with a peace and contentment. Frodo sat lightly in the saddle, riding between Sam and Aragorn, his hands no longer clenched around the reins. He had been into Mordor and nothing fearful had happened to his mind or body. He was tired and would sleep well after a good supper, but the tension he had felt since leaving Emyn Arnen had gone.

       Sam flicked a glance to his master and smiled. There was a little colour in those pale cheeks now, and the lines of strain Sam had noticed during the last few days had gone. He looked over at Merry and Pippin and they all exchanged conspiratorial smiles. Frodo noticed.

       "Why the sly grins? What are you smirking at, Merry?" he demanded, laughing.

       "We were just noticing how much more calm you look, Fro."

       "Yes, m'dear, you do. You've done what you wanted and I hope it's made you feel better about things."

       "Indeed. Has it laid the ghosts for you?" murmured Aragorn, smiling tenderly at the hobbit.

       Frodo nodded. "Yes. Nothing material exists from that time in Mordor now. The towers have fallen, the mountain is destroyed and the land so changed as to be unrecognisable. The only reminders are my memories and this" He held up his right hand with its missing finger. "I can deal with these things."

                                                                               ************

       By the time they emerged from the valley it was almost dark. They made camp near the bridge, the soldiers saw to the mounts and the friends gathered together to eat. The children were more tired than they would admit, and after eating they curled up beside Frodo and slept, soothed by the soft voices of the company. Frodo drank cool ale which had sat in a stream all day, and lazily ate an orange. Merry produced apples from his pack for everyone, much to Sam's astonishment.

       "I swear you have a bottomless pack there! It's surely not possible to have that much room in there!"

       Merry grinned. "I'm just talented! I'm good at packing, and apples tuck in anywhere."

       "We shall make our way back to Emyn Arnen at a gentle pace, and then return to Gondor. We have Ring Day to look forward to!" Aragorn was very excited. "I want you to see how much we think of you in Gondor, Frodo."

       "And it is also your birthday so there will be presents for you," said Bergil.

       "Oh goodness! I shall need to visit the markets of Minas Tirith! Hobbits give presents on their birthdays," cried Frodo. "Some I have brought with me but the rest I shall need to buy."

       "We are not expecting presents, you dear hobbit!" laughed Faramir. "In Gondor we give presents on someone's birthday. And there are many people who wish to give you something on yours. Don't deprive them of that out of modesty, Frodo."

       "Can't we have both?" mumbled Boromir sleepily. "I want to give Uncle Frodo a present, but I don't mind if he wants to give me one too!"

       "Just don't give him something alive!" begged his father. "I dread to think what Rosie would say if you present him with a frog to take home to the Shire!"

       Frodo laughed. "I don't believe that is a commodity we lack at Bag End! When I look out of my window on a spring morning the pond seems to be nothing but eyes! I can hardly walk across the grass without having little froglets leaping ahead of me."

       The friends talked softly. Gradually Frodo drifted off to sleep, his head pillowed on his pack. He was unaware of Legolas lifting him and carrying him to his blankets, and knew nothing more until the smell of bacon frying roused him the following morning.

                                                                              ************

       Rosie was relieved to see her menfolk back safe and sound. She too had feared for Frodo returning to the Black Land, and she scanned him nervously when the group arrived back in Emyn Arnen. Sam smiled to reassure her that all was well and kissed her hard on the lips.

       "Well, my dears? Did all go well?"

       "We're fine, Rose. You weren't worried about us, were you?" Frodo expected her to deny that she had been, even if it were not the truth. She put on a show of not being concerned but they knew she cared a great deal. Her reply surprised them.

       "Of course I was worried, Frodo Baggins! I've been fretting over it since you left, hoping nothing went wrong, and praying to the Lady that you'd be alright."

       Frodo looked startled. "Rose, I would never have led Sam into Mordor again if I'd thought there was any danger. I care too deeply to do anything to harm him." He looked hurt, upset that she could think such a thing.

      Rosie burst into tears and threw her arms around him. "I wasn't afraid for Sam, you silly hobbit! I was so afraid for you! I thought it might bring back all the bad memories and make you ill again! I had visions of them carrying you back..........or worse! I tried not to think about it but I couldn't help it!" She sobbed as she pulled him to her, burying her face in his jacket.

       Frodo was completely nonplussed. He had never seen Rosie so emotional. He patted her curls and spoke quietly.

       "I'm fine, Rosie. I had a host of soldiers, the King, his Steward, three Elves, a dwarf, my cousins and my dear Sam with me. Nothing would have dared to come near me. There are no orcs left in Mordor. As for the memories .......I don't deny that I was rather overwhelmed on one occasion, when I saw the bridge and the pass into the Morgul Vale, but it was a passing thing. I know now that the evil of Mordor has gone and the land is so changed that it is barely recognisable." He held her at arms' length for a moment and smiled, wiping her tears with his own handkerchief.

       Rosie kissed him fiercely, then drew Sam into her embrace. "I couldn't have borne it if you'd been lost to us again or found those memories too much to bear, and nor could Sam. But I'm glad you went if it helped you to put the past behind you. And don't you go scaring me again, do you hear?" she scolded, returning his handkerchief. "Now come and sit down and tell me all about it!"

       Sam and Frodo exchanged smiles and obediently followed the she-hobbit into the house of the Steward.

                                                 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Emyn Arnen, August 1429 SR

       "Why do I get the most boring job?" Pippin's voice was plaintive as he sat in the long, low kitchen building in Emyn Arnen, shelling peas into a large bowl.

       Rosie looked over from her place by the ovens. "I don't trust you not to cut your own thumb off, that's why! And we lose too much of the veg with you doing the peeling, so peas are much the safest option."

       "Hmmmmph!" Pippin flounced back to his peas and tried to ignore the stifled snorts of laughter from the others.

       Merry was industriously peeling carrots, Sam prepared runner beans and Frodo had been entrusted with the potatoes. He was concentrating as he peeled, more skilled than he used to be when he first started doing chores and had to learn to do such simple tasks again with a finger missing. He held his head slightly to one side, his tongue curling out of the corner of his mouth. Rosie grinned as she watched him. She knew that he had to stretch his fingers to hold the potatoes, which was good exercise for those stiff tendons.

       Sam had said so much about Rose's cooking that Aragorn asked if she would cook for them, as he was keen to taste the wonderful things he had heard about. The Imladris twins had visited Bag End, as had Legolas and Gimli, and their praises had been added to Sam's. When the King of Gondor went on bended knees and begged, it was very difficult to turn him down and Rosie had laughingly agreed, telling him that he was too impossibly handsome to be denied anything. Arwen had laughed and told Rosie not to flatter him in case he grew too vain. Aragorn was very fond of Rosie and admired the way she looked after Frodo with a fierce affection, bossing him gently and watching him as closely as Sam did. It was very touching to see.

       Rose had decided to cook what she called a proper roast dinner with all the Shire trimmings. Sides of beef with batter puddings, roast potatoes with assorted vegetables and her speciality - a good ale gravy. She had been pleasantly surprised by the ovens in Gondor and Emyn Arnen and had taken over the kitchens for the day with a happy sigh. The kitchen staff were lounging in the sunshine while the hobbits began their preparations.

       Gimli stumped into the kitchen, clad in a simple jerkin, his sleeves rolled up. He was carrying a large barrel of good strong ale which bore the legend "The Prancing Pony, Bree" in ornate letters. He set it down and Pippin gave a small cheer.

       "Goody! Ale!" He went to get up, glanced at Rose and sat down again. "No! Not that confounded tea towel again!" he said. "I suppose I'm not allowed any?"

       "Now who could deny you your ale? I hadn't even thought of flicking your ear, dearest Pippin," said Rosie in mock offended tones. "You've made a pretty good job of those peas so I think you deserve some ale." Pippin whooped with glee and grabbed a tankard.

       A tall figure ducked in, barefoot and clad in simple dark green shirt and breeches. He smiled and turned to Rose, one hand resting on the barrel's spigot.

       "Am I allowed some ale, my dear Rose?" He twinkled mischievously.

       "Of course you are, dear. Just leave enough for me to make the gravy," she replied, and Frodo snorted. She sounded just as she did when one of the children asked for something. He began to laugh at the idea of the King of Gondor as just another demanding child, and Sam paused in his bean slicing to raise a quizzical eyebrow. Frodo could not stop giggling. Not only was Aragorn the King, he was almost a hundred years old, and here was Rosie calling him "dear" as though he were her son.

       "Oh Rose," he finally spluttered. "That's not Frodo-lad you're talking to. You were so in awe of Aragorn when you first arrived and now you're treating him like one of the children! And I do believe he likes it!"

       "I do," murmured Aragorn, filling several tankards and handing them round. "It is quite charming. I never had a sister but I think Rose is what a sister would have been - firm and good at organisation."

       "You mean bossy," said Pip with a smirk.

       "Master Peregrin, I fear you are braver than I," Aragorn said. "I have too much respect for the tea towel to insult Mistress Rose, but you obviously like living dangerously!"

       "He does that," agreed Rose with mock severity. "Are those potatoes finished yet?"

       Frodo stretched. "All done, Rose. And cut to just the right size, I think you'll find."

       "You've certainly earned your ale, pet. Here you are." She handed Frodo a brimming tankard and he took a long swig.

       "My, that's good!

       "Look, Strider has returned," said Pip, as the tall man sat comfortably on a stool and lit his pipe.

       "He has always been here, my dear hobbit. King Elessar only appears when he has to. With my family and dearest friends I will always be Strider. It is the name of my house, after all."

       Faramir, Beregond and Bergil also appeared and Rosie put her hands on her hips and smiled.

       "Typical! You all smelled the ale, didn't you?" She turned to the shelf and indicated two large trays. "Here, you might want to try these while you wait for dinner - tartlets. Those are cheese and these are mushroom."

       Everyone descended on the tartlets, and soon there was only contented munching. Even Lord Celeborn and the twins had grabbed some and were happily eating.

       "These are superb, Rose. Even the finest chefs in Gondor cannot make pastry this good!" Aragorn snaffled another and settled back on the stool. "We should save some for the ladies and children, I suppose...." Arwen, Eowyn and four excited children entered just then and the entire company demolished the rest of the tartlets. It was amusing to see both the future King and the Steward of Gondor covered in pastry crumbs.

       Rose began to mix batter. "There is one other who makes superb pastry - as you'll all discover later."

       "Sam, I'd guess," said Faramir. "We know he can cook."

       "Then you guess wrongly, my lord," Rose replied. "Wait until you've tried the peach and raspberry cobbler and then you may guess who made it!"

       "Mmmmmm! Your cooking is much better than anything I could do," said Eowyn admiringly. The King burst out laughing.

       "Anyone's cooking is better than yours, my dear Eowyn! Even Faramir's! Unless you have greatly improved since I was made to eat some stew on the journey to Helm's Deep?" His eyes crinkled at the corners and he was trying hard not to laugh out loud.

       "Well! Fancy insulting my cooking! Oh dear, I have to admit it was revolting! And you tried to hide the fact - and that you were about to pour it away - just to spare my feelings."

       "It still ended up on the floor about ten minutes later - I should have saved myself the trouble and not eaten it first!" said Aragorn. Eowyn clapped a hand to her mouth in horror.

       "You were sick?! Oh goodness, it's a wonder I wasn't hurled into prison for poisoning the King!" She looked so mortified that everyone began to laugh.

       "I remember you looked green whenever stew was mentioned for some time!" added Legolas. "Gimli and I managed to avoid eating it......."

       "For which I have never forgiven you, you pair of scoundrels!"

       "It's your own fault for being so chivalrous, laddie," chuckled Gimli. "My lady Eowyn's skill lay with the sword, not the cooking pot!"

       "I have improved since then!" Eowyn protested. "But I'll never be as good as Rose. Fortunately for my husband and children I don't have to cook for them, although perhaps I'd have learned to do it properly."

        "Or we would have been poisoned," murmured Faramir to Aragorn in a low undertone.

        "I heard that!" She tried to look offended but Faramir's contrite expression made her laugh and she kissed him on the nose. "I shall punish you later!" she said, wagging an admonitory finger. Her husband did not look too worried; indeed, a huge grin spread across his face and he whispered something in her ear which made her blush. Pippin and Merry chortled at the exchange.

        "Rose's cooking is beyond description," Pippin began. "Steamed puddings now..........." He had a beatific smile on his face. "Jam roly-poly. Blackberry and apple. Light and fluffy suet pudding drenched in pale golden treacle.......mmmmmmmm!"

        Frodo laughed. "You may have noticed that food is something of a spiritual experience for Pip."

        "Should be for everyone, especially hobbits. Do you remember all those dishes last autumn - pumpkin pie, pumkin scones, pumpkin soup, baked pumpkin, pumpkin jelly............?" Pippin tailed off into dreamy silence.

        "As you can probably tell, we had something of an over-abundance of pumpkin," added Frodo drily, and Merry spluttered ale everywhere. Faramir snorted loudly.

        "Really? I'd never have guessed," replied Aragorn, and Merry slid off his stool and rolled on the floor, whooping hysterically.

       "Honestly, Mer, you're such an ass!" said Pippin calmly.

       "Why did you have so much pumpkin?" Faramir enquired when he had ceased choking.

       Frodo laughed. "Sam was cossetting them, as usual, composting, manuring, talking to them - it makes them grow better apparently - but what we didn't realise was that young Fro was doing the same. Blasted things nearly took over the entire garden. It became a case of 'Every visitor gets a free pumpkin!' before we got rid of them all."

       "Do you remember Frodo and the lantern?" Rosie asked, and collapsed in giggles.

       "Lantern?" Aragorn repeated blankly.

       "We were decorating the front of Bag End for Yule and we had some party lanterns." Rosie wiped her eyes. "One of them was orange, and Frodo caught a glimpse of it on the table and muttered 'Oh no, not another bloody pumpkin!' and then wondered why we started laughing."

       "I don't think you can ever have too much pumpkin," said Pippin.

       "Oh come on, Pip. Even you were starting to flag after a while," Merry said, hauling himself up and sitting on his stool.

       "I was not! Well................not really." Pip grinned and drained his mug. "When we go home we shall send you some of Rose's jams and pickles."

       "Well we're growing marrows this year, so if little Fro has been as busy as last year we'll send you several dozen jars of marrow chutney." Sam chuckled. "Couldn't face planting pumpkins this year!"

       "I foresee stuffed marrow on a daily basis until well after Yule," murmured Frodo, grinning.

       "I shall look forward to that," said Aragorn. "Good home-made jam and pickle......mmmmm!"

       "Wonder if you'll still be saying that when you open the hundreth jar of marrow chutney?" Rosie teased.

                                                                             ************

       Sam made punch for after the meal. He mixed wine and fruit juice, together with a little Gondorian brandy, and tasted it carefully. Then he asked Frodo to try it, just to make sure.

       "Perfect, Sam. Mmmm, that is nice." Frodo swatted Pippin away. "You can keep your hands off! That's for after dinner, you sneaky thing!"

       Pippin grinned. "Remember when Lotho drank too much of Bilbo's strong punch that Overlithe Night?" The others snorted.

       "I remember he split his trousers and fell flat on his face in a muddy puddle!" Merry retorted. "I thought Frodo was going to choke, he was laughing so much."

       "It was Uncle Rory shouting, 'I always said that boy had a face like a smacked arse, and there's the proof!' which finished me off. Then Lobelia screamed and rushed to his aid and fell flat on top of him. Bilbo was under the table and Merry was lying on his back with his feet in the air, shrieking."

       Aragorn was laughing. "I remember knocking 'Ro off balance on a muddy riverbank once when I was small, and pushing him into a very shallow stream. That incident provided 'Dan with ammunition for months."

       "Months? He still likes to remind me of it now and then," said Elrohir. "He claims there was a frog on my head when I emerged but that I utterly deny."

       "Not only was there a frog, but there was a large amount of pondweed dangling fetchingly from your ear, my dear brother." Elladan favoured his brother with a charming smile.

       "You two were not always perfect," said Lord Celeborn, to Arwen's great glee. "In fact your Naneth sent you back to your father once because you had behaved so badly."

       "It was his fault!" both of them chorused, each pointing to the other and then frowning as the entire company collapsed in merriment.

       "I reckon you were a naughty little lad," Rose said to Aragorn. "I can see you leading your Mum and Lord Elrond a merry dance, always finding trouble."

       Aragorn nodded. "You're quite right. I was always in mischief, although I never meant to cause trouble. I was very inquisitive and always wanting to know everything." Rose chuckled.

       "We have one very like that at home - well, we have several, but Ellie is the worst. That child never stops asking questions, trying to find how things work. She took an oil lamp apart to see where the light came from."

       "I was always pestering my long-suffering brothers with questions - why is the sky blue, where do the stars come from, what are clouds made of, why are damsons so sour......... I am constantly amazed that they didn't take me into the woods and leave me there!"

       The Twins were very amused by this thought. "You made Rivendell such a cheerful place again - even Ada could never be cross with you for long.. He laughed more during those years than he had since our mother left. We were all Estel's hopeless slaves."

       "Faramir nodded. "I trailed round after my brother, even when I'm sure I was unwanted. He never told me to go away though."

       "I too followed my brothers and made something of a nuisance of myself I fear," murmured Legolas.

       "Surely not. You, a nuisance?" said Gimli mischievously, growling a laugh at the expression on his fair friend's face.

       "I was Frodo's shadow when he came to Hobbiton. I tagged along, whether I was wanted or not," said Sam.

       "Frodo had three little shadows - Pip, Sam and me. We must have driven him to distraction but he never yelled at us or shoved us away."

       Eowyn laughed. "I was forever following my brother and cousin, wanting to join in their war games. I had my own little wooden sword too." This was greeted with shouts of recognition as almost every male in the room admitted to having a wooden sword.

       "I never managed to get one," said Rose. "Sam and my brothers used to insist I had to be captured by a dragon, and they came to rescue me. All those stories of Mr.Bilbo's about Smaug. Poor old Polly Pig had to play the dragon, and she was a silly old thing."

       "You're lucky," said Frodo. "At Brandy Hall and Great Smials, I had to be the dragon, and Merry and Pip used to thwack me!"

       "I always wanted him to breathe fire but he wouldn't." Pippin sighed regretfully. "There are fire-eaters in Minas Tirith, you know. Saw some on our last visit, didn't we, Merry?" His cousin nodded.

       "How do they do that? I've always wondered." Sam looked puzzled.

       "I believe they take a mouthful of oil and then ignite it as they spit it out," replied Aragorn. "Not something to be tried without much practice, I should think."

       "Merry tried rope-walking once, on the washing line at Bag End. Fortunately he had a softish landing when he fell off."

       "I landed on Bilbo, who was having a nap! He chased me round the garden and threatened to send me home to Buckland.. Then he started laughing and said he wished I'd landed on Lobelia!"

       "She would have chased you with her umbrella and if she had caught you you would have known about it!"

       Pippin was prowling the kitchen. "Can I taste anything yet?" He began lifting pot lids.

       "Pippin Took, if you open that oven door and make those puddings go flat I will make you wish you'd never been born!" cried Rose, leaping up.

       "I think a diplomatic retreat is called for, gentlemen! We are surplus to requirements!" said Aragorn. "A good general knows when to make a tactical withdrawal."

       They gathered their tankards and fled.

                                                                             ************

       When the meat was cooked and the batter puddings had risen to the roof of the oven, Rosie made the gravy while Aragorn carved. The hobbits stood around making comments on his carving technique.

       "He's good, isn't he?"

       "It's all that sword practice.

       "Shouldn't someone tell him that's not a proper use for Anduril?"

       "Well Gandalf lit fireworks with the Flame of Arnor!"

       "True! Can the Istari be de-frocked - or de-staffed - for improper use of supernatural aids?"

       "Look at it -The Flame of the West covered in fat and gravy!"

       "Better than Orc blood."

       "Hope he's washed it since!"

       "Oooh! That's not Anduril - it's just a big knife!"

       "It's 'cos we're hobbits - it just looks big enough to be Anduril."

       "It's a bloody big knife! I expect he could fight with that if he had to!"

       "Of course he could - he could probably stop an army of Orcs with a fork and a couple of teaspoons!"

       Aragorn was forced to stop because he was laughing too much to continue. He looked at the four mischievous faces and shook his head. Gandalf was right - everyone should have hobbits in their care. Merry and Pippin were always a team but it was the first time he had seen Frodo and Sam join in to such a degree. Frodo looked very impish, his eyes twinkling.

       "What is it, Aragorn? Didn't you realise I have a sense of humour?"

       "No-one is more delighted to see it than I, my dearest Frodo. I don't believe I shall ever grow tired of hearing you laugh and seeing your face wreathed in smiles. When those letters came, saying you were not expected to live, I felt as though part of my heart had been ripped out." He knelt and hugged the hobbit warmly. "I am more than happy to be the subject of your teasing. And I must confess I've never thought of a teaspoon as an offensive weapon before but I shall consider it in future."

       "If a tea towel can be used as one, I'm sure a teaspoon could also have offensive properties." Frodo returned the hug.

       They sat at the table for an informal hobbit-style meal. Rosie was rather perturbed by the silence as everyone tucked in. She waited anxiously and finally burst out:

        "Well?! Is it that horrible?"

       "My dear Rose, this is superb, incredible! The only reason for our silence is that we're too busy eating to say anything." Aragorn speared a piece of meat on his fork. "I've never tried these batter puddings before but they are wonderful!"

       Eldarion looked up. "Aunt Rose, it's lovely! You are the best cook in the whole of Middle-earth!"

       "Hear, hear!" Young Boromir agreed. "No wonder hobbits like food so much if it all tastes as good as this!"

       Rosie blushed but she felt so happy she was speechless. Sam beamed proudly and then glanced at Frodo, who was tucking in with enthusiasm. He thought he would explode with pride and happiness.

        When everything was gone they all sat back, loosening belts, and waited a while before tackling the peach and raspberry cobbler. It arrived at table, the pastry golden-brown and the smell of the fruit wafting across the kitchen.

       "I can die happy!" said Pippin dramatically. "That looks like perfection to me."

       Large jugs of cream were passed around and everyone dived in, exclaiming as they did so.

       "If you didn't make it, then who did?" asked Aragorn, looking at Rosie. "Not Legolas surely?"

       "Hah!" Gimli almost choked. "Have you ever seen him cook? No, this has to be one of the hobbits."

       Faramir looked at them. "Well Merry is a reasonable cook but he often says he's no good at pastry, Pippin denies any ability at all and you said it wasn't Sam. It must be Frodo."

       Everyone cheered and Frodo stood up and bowed. "Guilty, I admit!" he laughed. "I am a hobbit of many talents."

       "You are indeed. My word, I really will have to visit my Northern Kingdom on a regular basis if the food is anything like this!" The King licked cream off his spoon. "We are all suitably impressed, my dearest friend. Did you learn from Rose?"

       Frodo settled back and told them how his loneliness after the death of his parents led to him spending time in the kitchens at Brandy Hall, but he gave the credit for pies and pastry to Sam's mother, who had shown him how to make such things, endlessly kind and patient with the sad little boy. Sam smiled warmly, remembering his mother's love for Frodo, and draped an arm round his master's shoulders.

       Celeborn smiled to see Frodo so happy. This was as it should be, and Mithrandir and Galadriel would approve completely. The Fellowship continued to thrive.

                                                       ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

September 1429 Minas Tirith

The days sped past with the friends delighting in their time together. They were aware of the excited preparations in the city as Ring-Day approached. Tableaux were rehearsed, bunting hung from the buildings and everywhere they were greeted with enthusiasm and genuine affection. Frodo had been embarrassed to find that he was not allowed to pay for anything when he went to the markets, and everyone in the taverns insisted on buying him drinks. Had he chosen to take advantage of all the offers he would have been permanently drunk. He blushed to the tips of his pointed ears when Bergil relayed a message from one of the city's professional ladies of pleasure, to the effect that there would be a warm welcome for him should he choose to visit.

       "What?!" he spluttered, as Merry and Pippin howled with laughter. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

       Bergil's eyes twinkled. "What do you think it means?" he chuckled teasingly. "My dear Frodo, it means that every brothel in Minas Tirith is yours to command, and there will be no charge for the pleasure!"

       "Are we included in the invitation?" quipped Pippin, and ducked as his cousin's hand whirled past his ear.

       "You are a respectable married hobbit, Peregrin, and should not be asking such questions!" Frodo replied. "And I don't believe I shall be taking them up on their......er........kind offer  ...... um..........well............." He was very pink and somewhat flustered.

       Aragorn laughed. "My citizens have taken my words to heart I see. I told them to take care of you and treasure you, and they are all obeying my command with comendable enthusiasm! Free food, free drinks and now the company of ladies - it sounds like a hobbit paradise!" He exchanged a smirk with his Steward and the two collapsed at the wide-eyed look on Frodo's face. "Oh Frodo! You look stunned!"

       "I am stunned." He smiled. "We don't have such places in the Shire, where we are very respectable, I'll have you know! Goodness! Besides........I'm a hobbit and these ladies are Big People.......I mean.............they're taller than me.........."

       "Goodness has nothing to do with it!" said Merry. "And height differences don't matter when you're lying down!"

       "I think......," said Bergil slyly, "........that you have stolen several hearts in this city. I've heard several .....ah....comments."

       "Don't you start!" Frodo muttered, now positively crimson. He looked to Sam for help but his friend was carefully studying the ceiling.

       Gimli slapped Frodo on the back. "Go on, laddie! Don't look so shocked."

       Bergil grinned. "I think we've teased this poor hobbit enough! Well, just remember, the offer is there should you feel the need............" He privately wondered about Frodo - he was unmarried, after all. Were there any ladies back in the Shire whose company he enjoyed? Or was he imposing human needs and desires on to hobbits? Perhaps they didn't.........although he remembered some riotous nights out with Merry and Pippin when they most certainly did!

       Frodo was still blushing, and picking imaginary bits of fluff from his weskit, but finally he spoke. "Actually .............. to be honest........... well, the fact is, the Ring ..........I thought that side of life was burned out of me forever. I've had no feelings since...........what with the Ring and what happened to me in.......Cirith Ungol.........there was nothing left."  He glanced at the assembled company and smiled a sweet, sad smile, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "The truth is, I was assaulted............by the Orcs. They took everything, not just my clothes. They wanted to humiliate me completely. And the Ring burned everything else away........."

       "Bastards!" Gimli swore loudly. He had killed many Orcs in his time but he wished he could have killed every last Mordor Orc personally, preferrably with his bare hands. Many others in the room drew in their breath in shock.

       Aragorn swallowed. "Frodo, you don't have to say this..........I suspected.........Gandalf said something .........and knowing what has happened to others.................." He looked at Faramir, who was horrified.

       Frodo looked up, a few tears now slipping down his cheeks and clinging to his long, dark lashes. "No, it's alright, I'm among friends. I said I thought it had.............." He wiped the tears with the back of his hand. "In fact I think even that side of life may have been given back to me lately. I seem to be.....um, that is.....some of those feelings have returned in the last year."  He tried to glare at the others. "Oh stop that! You know what I mean!"

      "I blame myself," Sam said softly. "I should never have left you......" He looked more miserable than Frodo had ever seen him .He had long suspected but his master had never admitted the truth of those lost hours. Frodo ran to him, wrapped both arms round Sam and hugged him tightly.

       "Don't be silly! If you hadn't left me we would have both been captured and there would have been no-one to rescue us. And the Ring would certainly have been taken. You must never blame yourself, Sam, promise me you won't? We each did what we had to do. I certainly don't blame you." His voice wavered. "After all, if things had been reversed, would you blame me?" Sam shook his head. "Well then, just remember that. You saved my life then and you have saved it several times since." He kissed Sam's brow gently and smiled somewhat wryly. "Things happen."

       "That's not quite how we say it in Gondor," said Bergil quietly, feeling guilty that he had begun what had turned into a painful conversation. "Forgive me, Frodo. I would never have started this subject if I'd known.............."

       "No, it's not quite what we say in the Shire either! I was being polite. And how could you have known? I'm glad you all know. For years I believed the shame to be mine but during my illness I was made to realise that I was wrong. I had to learn to place the shame where it belonged - with the perpetrators. And as I said, I've now discovered that those feelings aren't dead after all, so even more of my life has been returned to me." He drew a shaky breath and chuckled suddenly. "I'm beginning to sound like a regular Periwinkle Bunce!"

       "Who?!" chorused the entire company except the hobbits.

       "She was a hobbit who always saw the bright side of everything - which was damned annoying I daresay! She was renowned for never grumbling and always finding something good in the most dire situations."

       "She was strangled by her husband when he complained she'd burned his dinner so badly it was inedible and she told him that was a good thing because at least it wouldn't give him indigestion!" said Merry with a perfectly straight face.

       "No she wasn't, you ass!" said Frodo, his arm still round Sam's shoulders. "But she's become a terrible example of what can happen in the face of relentless cheerfulness!" He was relieved to feel Sam's rumbling laugh, and the rest of the company joined in.

                                                                              ************

        Aragorn was restless as Ring-Day approached. He kept going to the windows or walking into the courtyard and gazing down at the road which wound like a ribbon round the base of Mount Mindolluin and out of sight as it turned north-west round the Grey Wood. When the others asked him what he was looking for he would smile in a secretive manner and tell them to wait and see. Arwen rolled her eyes and smiled at the others behind her husband's back.

       They were all about to sit down to lunch one day when the trumpets sounded from the top of the White Tower. Aragorn leapt up and the others followed him to the walls. A contingent of horsemen were riding toward Minas Tirith, bearing the banners of Rohan, and at the head of the eored rode Eomer and his queen, Faramir's cousin Lothiriel.

       "Eomer! I didn't know he was coming! He never said anything!" Merry was almost dancing in his excitement.

       When the royal couple arrived in the Courtyard of the Fountain they were almost bowled over by the welcoming committee. Eowyn ran to greet her brother, laughing and crying at the same time. Faramir followed, surrounded by shouting, scampering children, and greeted his cousin warmly. She was the daughter of Faramir's uncle, Prince Imrahil, and they had known each other all their lives. Her father had travelled to meet them and he also joined the party milling about the courtyard, embracing hobbits, Elves, a dwarf and assorted humans.

       "Eomer! You kept this quiet!" Frodo embraced the handsome king of Rohan, who laughed.

       "How could I miss such a wonderful occasion? We had to come and join you to see this special day with the Ring-bearer present. Not to mention that it gives us the opportunity to celebrate your birthday with you!"

       "Eomer, my brother, this is a first!" Aragorn slapped him on the back. "Usually when you come to Gondor you come with an army to help me fight our enemies, but this time you are here in peace and the Rohirrim will raise mugs of ale, not swords."

       Luncheon was a happy and informal occasion. Celeborn and Imrahil sat together and talked earnestly as the elder statesmen of the group. Queen Lothiriel had settled down with the other women and they were already talking about children, husbands and the forthcoming celebrations. Aragorn and Eomer sat with Frodo between them, and everyone seemed to be talking at once. The children could barely contain themselves; Legolas sat with them and told them Elven stories while they ate, which did at least keep them quiet. The Rohan King and Queen had brought their two children, young Elfwine who was almost the same age as Eldarion and a very handsome lad, and little Eowyn, four years old and already as spirited as her aunt. She insisted that Legolas sat next to her, and fed him from her plate.

       "Uncle Legolas might not like the same food as you, little one," said her father as she handed the Elf a tartlet.

       "Yes he does! We're going to get married when I'm older and he has to do what I say!"

       Eomer roared. "Well, that's us men put very firmly in our places I must say! So Faramir, do you do everything my sister tells you?" He winked. "What about you, Samwise?! Who rules in your household?"

       Faramir gazed lovingly at his wife. "Of course, my lord. I would not dare do otherwise. My wife knows how to wield a sword!"

       "I'll just ask Rose's permission to answer that," murmured Sam. "Don't know about swords but my wife can do a lot of damage with a tea towel!" He grinned as the entire company collapsed in helpless laughter.

                                                                             ************

        Frodo suspected that it would be another long and happy evening with much drinking involved, so he took the opportunity of a nap. When he awoke he had a bath and lingered in the scented water, day-dreaming and wondering what his birthday would be like. He had bought presents for everyone and just hoped that the clothes he had chosen to wear would be fine enough for the occasion. He was having a wonderful time and even the traumatic moments had proved useful.

       "You fallen asleep in there?" Sam's voice.

       "No, just idling." He grabbed a large towel and stepped onto the rug. "Come in, Sam."

       Sam opened the door, carrying Frodo's clean linen. "Did you have a nap?"

      "Yes, it was lovely. What about you and Rose?" He towelled his hair briskly and shook it so the cloud of dark curls settled where they would.

       "Um.....sort of," said Sam, pinking slightly.

       "Oh!" Frodo chuckled. "Lucky you!" He pulled on his under-drawers and clean shirt, darting a mischievous grin in Sam's direction.

       "Well, there's all those ladies out there just waiting for you to pay them a visit!" teased Sam, grinning broadly.

       "Thank you! I thought you'd remind me of that!"

       "Or there's always Mrs Bracegirdle when we get home to the Shire! I'm sure she'd be happy to oblige while Mr.Bracegirdle's at the Ivy Bush one night!"

       "Samwise Gamgee! That is a scandalous suggestion! Besides, I'd get lost in the cleavage."

       "She makes good pies though." He smirked at Frodo.

       "Rather a high price to pay for a pie if you ask me!" Frodo retorted, and bolted for the bedroom and the rest of his clothes.

       "What is?" Rosie enquired from the next room. "Are you decent?"

       "Yes, Rose." He buttoned his breeches, flipped his braces up over his shoulders and reached for his weskit.

       "You haven't answered my question. What is a high price for a pie?" Rosie peeked round the door, brushing her shining, honey-coloured curls.

       "A night of passion with Hyacinth Bracegirdle!"

       "We'd have to send in a rescue party!" cried Pippin, running in and bouncing on the bed.

       Rosie smiled wickedly. "From what I hear, you have half the ladies in Gondor swooning at your feet."

       "Only half?" queried Merry. "I'd be insulted if I were you, Fro!" He squeezed his cousin's shoulders. "From what I can gather, if you venture into some parts of the city you'll be beating the women off with a stick! I should take a bodyguard or two if I were you."

       "Yes, we'll come with you if you like!" added Pippin, stretching out on Frodo's bed, his hands clasped behind his head.

       "Not you as well! Honestly, I'll never live this down!" Frodo's eyes sparkled impishly. "You two have wives at home, and I have no intention of encouraging you in any mischief. You may be able to go home and look Stella and Di in the eyes but I can't, and I don't fancy being beaten over the head with a rolling pin for leading you astray!"

       Rosie snorted. "As if you have to lead these two anywhere! Though they would no doubt lead you into all kinds of trouble if you let 'em! And for the love of Eru, Meriadoc Brandybuck, where did you get that weskit?! It's a bit..........."

       Merry looked affronted. "What's wrong with my weskit?"

       "Rose means no-one can look at it without shading their eyes!" answered Frodo. "The colour is rather dazzling, Merry, you have to admit." He scrutinised his cousin's sartorial choice, pursing his lips and wincing. The waistcoat was purple, with white and blue flowers, and the colours and pattern were not the sort of thing common in Hobbiton.

       Merry twirled, showing off. "You're just jealous because you don't have one like it!" He pinched Frodo's cheeks because he knew his cousin hated it, laughed and ran to the door. "Last one to dinner has to sing "The Virgin of Staddle" solo!"

       There was a scramble and they all ran after Merry, calling him names which were far from complimentary.

                                                                             ************

       Lord Celeborn and Prince Imrahil had retreated to a smaller chamber for dignified discussion. The ladies were in Arwen's sitting room talking quietly and laughing at the overheard singing going on along the corridor. They were talking of Frodo and his revelation of the previous day. Rosie had always suspected that his treatment at the hands of those foul Orcs included the worst type of assault but Sam had told her that Frodo had never spoken of it. The quietly frank confession had been a shock to many of the company, particularly Gimli and Faramir.

       Eowyn poured a little more wine. "Poor Faramir, he was so appalled by that. He knew Frodo had been beaten and tortured but he did not realise they had ........done that. He wept last night when he told me."

       "Legolas said Gimli swore for twenty minutes afterwards, and didn't repeat himself once. He was very shocked and upset." Arwen smiled as she found a tray of sweetmeats, including chocolate. "My brothers tell me he went off for three hours of axe practice afterwards - he said he imagined every swing to be taking off a Mordor Orc's head." A shadow flickered across the beautiful face. "Our mother suffered at the hands of Orcs, and they are capable of anything"

       Rosie put a comforting arm around the Queen and Arwen smiled gratefully and hugged her back. She had grown to love the little hobbit like a sister. Rosie was funny and practical and kind, and very good company. All four women got on well and liked each other.

       Lothiriel selected a chocolate from the dish. "I've missed these! We don't have chocolates in Rohan so I have to take a supply back with me and hide them!" She pushed the dish towards Rosie.

       Rosie bit into one and the others laughed as her eyes went wide in wonder. "Oh my! That's ..........mmmmm."  She closed her eyes blissfully. Arwen's musical laugh filled the room.

       "Now I shall send chocolates to the Shire as well as oranges! One of the Masters of Herblore in the Houses of Healing says that in women these produce similar sensations to...............love!"

       "Lawks! You mean if I eat many of these I'll put Sam out of a job?" Rosie chuckled and tried another. "What do men make of 'em, I wonder?"

       "Most men don't seem bothered about them, although Frodo likes them, I believe," said Eowyn.

       "Ah well, he's always been a bit different. He's a sweet soul, and I'm just thankful that trip to Mordor didn't pitch him back into those illnesses. I was so afraid it might, but he seems able to cope these days." Rosie looked very thoughtful. "Sam said he was afraid too, especially when they saw the place where the Lord of the Nazgul rode out. Frodo was taken ill then, sick and faint, but he recovered and once they were in Mordor the land was so changed that he seemed able to deal with it. The places where he suffered don't exist any more."

       Lothiriel cocked her head. "Oh dear! I think my husband is teaching the company Rohan drinking songs."

       "Shouldn't worry - they can't be any worse than the ones they know already!" giggled Rosie. "They sang 'Nineteen Nights in Nobottle' and 'The Maid of Michel Delving' last time, and I never thought Frodo knew the words to those! Then they went to a dwarf tavern one night and came back singing very rude songs - well, I assume they were rude. They were in dwarvish so I can't be sure."

       "Since most drinking songs are rude, I think you're right to assume." Eowyn laughed. "Do you think the Elves in the party will get drunk again?"

       Arwen started to giggle. "If my brothers and Legolas have not learned to avoid the effects of ale after several thousand years, I doubt they will have remembered from a few weeks ago! Do men ever learn anything? Elves, humans, dwarves and hobbits are all very much alike - the menfolk never learn!"

       "My brother should remember the first time he over-imbibed," said Eowyn. "He raided my uncle's ale casks, arrived staggering drunk at table, picked a fight, threw up and was soundly thrashed - and still does it again!"

       "They're all the same," tutted Rosie. "My brothers, Sam, Merry and Pippin......Not seen Frodo drunk very often but when he was ill he used to drink a lot of brandy. Found him unconscious several times, passed out at his desk. He doesn't do it now, thankfully."

       "He did very well last time - Estel said he was very drunk but he still came down to breakfast before most of them. - before his cousins or Gimli, and certainly before my brothers and Legolas!" Arwen listened for a moment. "What are they singing now?"

       Rosie started to laugh. "It's a little ditty called "The Virgin of Staddle" and highly vulgar, which comes as no surprise!"

                                                                            ************     

       The song was indeed about the maiden from Staddle, who did not remain a maiden very long apparently, and indeed had almost as many adventures as the young lad in Nobottle. Eomer had the advantage over his Gondorian hosts as Merry had taught it to him on one of his many visits to Rohan.

       They sat back, laughing, and poured more ale all round. Eomer gazed at his companions: Aragorn relaxed in one corner of a long couch, bare feet tucked under him, clad in a simple dark blue tunic and leggings; Faramir sitting with Beregond and young Bergil, his blue eyes slightly veiled behind half-closed lids, a dreamy smile on his face; the elegant Elves reclining in a silk-clad heap with Gimli looking as out of place as a sheep among horses; the four hobbits snuggled together. He looked hard at the little group. Merry and Pip were giggling conspiratorially while Frodo leaned comfortably against Sam's sturdy shoulder. Eomer thought he really belonged on the other couch with the Elves since he was so unlike the other hobbits. His delicate features glowed in the candlelight and the blue of his weskit complimented those startling eyes. There was an ethereal quality about Frodo, so fragile, so fair, and yet so strong to have survived an ordeal and its aftermath which would have killed a man. He almost radiated light, like the Elf lord Celeborn. What had Gandalf said? "That boy should be blessed by the Valar and watched over for the rest of his days." Eomer hoped so. Merry had been so distressed at his cousin's slow deterioration and it was a miracle to see the hobbit recovered and back to something like his old self. Not that he would ever be entirely whole, but it was close enough. Some wounds can never be healed but perhaps the scars can be lived with.

       "You look serious, Eomer my friend," said Aragorn quietly.

       "I was watching Frodo. So small yet indomitable. He has suffered greatly." He glanced at Aragorn, who sighed.

       "Yes. More than any of us can comprehend, for the Ring wrought such damage on his mind and body that it was doubtful he could survive. I called him back on the Field at Cormallen and it took all my strength then, for he was sure he had failed and wished only for death. The suffering he endured since did make me wonder if I was right to bring him back but I think had I not he would have wandered in a wilderness, as indeed he did when he almost slipped from us two years ago. I think Merry has told you how his life was despaired of?" Eomer nodded. "It took the assistance of many in Valinor to help him, and the love of those in the Shire. Had he gone to the West with Lord Elrond I doubt he would have survived. I think only Sam, Rose and the children kept him anchored at all and without them he would have slipped away. Elves can die of grief, you know, and Frodo does have Elvish blood on the Took side of the family."

       "That explains his looks! I wondered why he was so different from the others, although you can see it slightly in Pippin to a lesser degree." He smiled as four cheery hobbits beamed at him from the other side of the table, raising their mugs in a silent toast.

       "Come along, Eomer! You must know more songs than that!" chided Merry.

       Eomer laughed. "You wish for another song, Master Holdwine? Very well, you shall have one. This is called

       "A Warning to the Maidens of the Westfold" and is similar in content to your "Virgin of Staddle" I think."

       It was a happy, unsteady company which staggered to bed later. The hobbits were very affectionate, hugging each other tightly, until Eomer realised that part of the reason was to hold each other up. They were giggling hysterically and confusing each other as to which direction they needed to take.

       "No, no, no, no, no........no!" said Pippin firmly. "'S this way, I tell you!"

       "Rubbish! 'S this way. Your trouble is, you're intox......int.......into.............drunk!" said Merry.

       "No, you're drunk! Pip's as sober as...............whatever!" added Frodo.

       "What do you know? You're more intox.........drunk than he is!" Merry argued.

       Frodo sniffed. "I am not drunk. I'm just a bit tipsy," he said loftily, then hiccupped.

       "Reckon you've all had one over the eight," said Rosie, emerging from the Queen's apartments. "Honestly, you lot need a sheepdog to guide you back!"

       "Eight?" Frodo repeated, puzzled. "I've had more than that, I'll have you know. Let go, I can walk." He let go of Merry and Sam and promptly slid down the wall.

       "Weren't we having one for the road?" asked Sam rather plaintively. Frodo looked even more confused.

       "Road? I don't remem....ber a road. Thought we were indoors?" He frowned, which made Rosie laugh so hard she had to join them in leaning on the wall.

       "Just follow me, you silly lot, and try not to get lost."

       "We never try to get lost," said Frodo. "It just happens!" He started giggling again.

       "'Sright! Just........happens.....ooops! Just like that!" agreed Pip.

       "P'raps we should try to get lost.........and then we wouldn't? I think..............." Frodo added doubtfully, re-ran the sentence through his ale-soaked brain and blinked, wondering what he meant.

       Eventually, with much effort, Rosie hauled her menfolk back to their quarters and poured them into bed. She did not envy them their hangovers, as none of them had managed to drink any water before passing out this time. There would be many sore heads in the Citadel next morning.

                                                   ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

22nd September, 1429 SR

         "It's Ring-Day! It's Ring-Day!"

       "It's Uncle Frodo's birthday!"      

       "Happy birthday, Uncle Frodo!"

        Frodo surfaced from sleep to find a lot of over-excited children jumping on his bed. The three little girls were showering him with kisses while the boys bounced and sought to be first to hug him."We must breakfast, bathe and dress if we are to be out in time for the parade."

       "Steady on, there's only so much of me to go round!" he laughed, struggling up and cuddling as many as he could reach.

       "Birthday kisses, Uncle Frodo. Are you better now?" Finduilas asked shyly. Frodo had been somewhat under the weather the previous day, forswearing alcohol with the fervour of the terminally hungover. He had remained in bed for most of the day and elected to have an early night.

       "Yes, thank you, dear child. I'm fine and looking forward to today. This all sounds very exciting."

       Rosie and Sam peeped round the door, having heard the commotion. Rosie was tying her robe and shaking her tumbled hair out of her eyes. She giggled at Frodo's unruly locks, which went all ways in the morning.

       "You can stop grinning, Rose! I know I look like a scarecrow first thing in the morning - my mirror doesn't lie! How can I possibly have Elvish blood? I certainly don't have the self-combing hair!"

       "You'll do! Feeling bright and perky, are we? Recovered from all that ale?" She kissed him gently. "Happy birthday, dear Frodo!"

       Sam gave him a bear hug. "Yes, happy birthday and many of 'em!"

       Outside, the September mist was clearing to reveal a blue sky and sunshine. The murmur of voices drifted up from the streets on the city's lower levels as people staked their claim to the best places along the walls and main thoroughfares. The laughter of children, street cries and the odd rumbling cart or trotting horse could also be heard. There was a sense of anticipation and barely-suppressed joy.

       Frodo pushed back the covers and stepped onto the floor. He stretched and grabbed a robe, then ventured to the window. Below, the crowds were already gathering, women gossiping cheerfully, groups streaming out of their houses, children running and skipping, men shifting benches and erecting gaily-coloured awnings. It looked like highly disorganised chaos to Frodo's eye, but very thrilling.

       They went to the private apartments, children running around them, and found the rest of the company there already and grinning in an infuriating manner. Everyone rushed to greet him, all thrilled to share such a special day. He was hugged, kissed and fussed over until he was quite out of breath. Arwen indicated a huge pile of packages in a corner.

       "All yours, dear Frodo, from your loving friends."

       "Open them! Open them!" clamoured the children, hopping up and down in their eagerness.

       "I doubt there is time!" Frodo laughed.

       "I hope my dress is smart enough," Rosie fretted. "I shall feel very insignificant next to Queens and Princesses and fair folk."

       "Ah! I do hope you won't be offended, dearest Rose, but we have had clothes made for you and Sam and Frodo, as a gift from us. Merry and Pippin will be in their finery anyway and we did not think you should be left out. You will find them in your rooms when you go to dress. I do hope you like them." Arwen looked quite anxious; she wanted everything to go well and could not bear the thought that the hobbits might not like such a gift. She studied Rosie's face, which lit up in a wonderful smile.

       "You really are the kindest people! I'm sure they'll be wonderful - thank you, dearest lady!" She took Arwen's hands and kissed them, and Arwen crouched and pulled her into her arms, joy spilling over in happy tears.

                                                                              ************  

      In their bedroom Sam and Rosie gazed in awe at their new clothes. Rose tentatively stretched out a hand and stroked the dress, unable to believe it was hers. It was in the hobbit style, in a beautiful lavender silk with an embroidered bodice and a delicate lace trim. There was a matching lace wrap too, and delicately worked silk petticoats which rustled when they were stirred. There was also a dainty circlet of fresh flowers for her hair. She had never seen anything so fine.

       "You'll look like a queen yourself in that, my lass." Sam kissed her very deeply and she trembled in his arms; his passion and love for her sometimes overwhelmed her.

       "I do love you, Sam Gamgee. I know I can be a bit sharp sometimes............."

       "Hush! I love you so much, my lovely Rose. You and Frodo and the children mean everything to me and so long as I have you all my life is perfect." He held her tightly for several moments before releasing her with another kiss. "Go on, go and let that little maid get you dressed. I can't wait to see you in all that silk.........and I'm sure I'll spend half the day wondering how to get you out of it!"

       "Cheeky!" She gave him a playful tap as he patted her bottom, and ran into the dressing-room next door, laughing. "You get yourself dressed. I want to see my handsome husband in his new suit!"

       Sam dressed slowly, revelling in the sensation of the fine material. The jacket and trousers were in a deep mulberry colour and the waistcoat was a beautiful blue - the colour of Frodo's eyes, he thought - and made of silk, embroidered with white stars. He chuckled. Merry would be sick with envy over the waistcoat!

                                                                              ************

       They gathered in the King's apartments. Merry and Pippin arrived, wearing the liveries of Rohan and Gondor. They argued good-naturedly about which was smarter, Merry's green and white or Pippin's black and silver.

       "Women will fall at our feet, Pip. We are irresistible, after all."

       "Quite! It's almost wicked. We're too attractive for our own good!"

       The door opened and Frodo entered, almost timidly. Everyone stared. Rosie's eyebrows rose and her jaw dropped. Three royal ladies gawped unashamedly. Pippin broke the silence with a curse.

       "Damn! The women aren't going to notice us at all, are they?"

       "At least it will be easy to track your progress today, Fro. There'll be a trail of swooning women in your wake!"

       Frodo was wearing a suit of deep forest green silk velvet, with small gold buttons, and a waistcoat of embossed cream silk embroidered with tiny gold flowers. His curls had been brushed until they shone, his eyes sparkled and his cheeks were faintly tinged with pink, which deepened as he blushed.

       Aragorn twirled a finger in the air, indicating that he should turn and show off the outfit to everyone, to which he obliged, chuckling.

       "Well! That's every other male in the procession relegated to second place!" said the King. "What that outfit really calls for on such a ceremonial day, is a sword - Sting, in fact. Sam has brought his sword, I believe?"

       Frodo smiled. "That would be difficult, as Sting is in a chest in the cellar at Bag End, and would be a little difficult to retrieve at short notice!"

       "Actually it isn't......." Sam began nervously. "Pippin said I should bring it as it would look good today, so I brought it with my things......" Frodo had said he never wanted to wear a sword again. Would he be angry?

       "Oh did he?! It's another conspiracy, isn't it?" He tried to sound cross but found he could not possibly be annoyed on such a day. He allowed Sam to fetch Sting and was very embarrassed when Aragorn himself knelt and fastened the jewelled belt for him. Then he produced the silver circlets they had worn so long ago on the night of the banquet at Cormallen, and reverently placed one on Frodo's dark curls and the other on Sam's sandy ones, and kissed them both on the brow.

       When he was ready, Frodo gazed at his friends. "Rose! You look beautiful! I think that dress needs something to complete it. Let me give you my present now." He drew out a box from a pile of parcels on the table. "Here - this is for you, my dearest sister and friend. It......belonged to my mother, and I think it deserves to be worn again."

       Rose opened the box and caught her breath. Inside lay an exquisite silver necklace of Elvish design, trailing leaves interlaced with tiny flowers, each with an amethyst at its centre. She looked up, tears spilling down her cheeks.

       "Oh Rose, please don't cry! Don't you like it?"

       "Of course I like it, you silly hobbit! It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. You really are the dearest, dearest................." She pulled him to her and kissed him several times while he wiped her tears. Then she turned and let him fasten the necklace for her. "I shall cherish this all my life, Frodo dear," she whispered, kissing his maimed hand gently as she did so. Sam thought she had never looked more lovely, not even on their wedding day, and he felt tears in his eyes as he gazed at the two beings he loved most in all Middle-earth.

       "Sam, dearest Sam, you look splendid! Now you must have my gift because I knew you'd brought your sword and bought this especially for you. Besides, we can't have just one of us with a smart belt." Frodo took out a finely jewelled belt and put it round Sam's ample middle.

       The plan was to go down from the Citadel by a private way and gather before the gateway outside the city, where there was to be some sort of Thanksgiving. Then they would ride through the gates and up through the seven levels of the city in procession, pausing to watch various tableaux along the way. Once returned to the Citadel there was to be a banquet with ambassadors from Gondor's allies and the city's chief officials.

       Everyone lined up: the King, resplendant in black with the White Tree embroidered upon his breast, and a deep crimson cloak, his coronet of silver round his brow and Anduril in its scabbard; Arwen in a deep purple and white gown, a delicate fillet of mithril silver in her dark hair; Faramir in dark blue with Eowyn in pale blue; Eomer and his Queen in dark gold and pale yellow respectively; Legolas in a very pale lilac tunic with silver embroidery and a soft silver-grey cloak; Elladan and Elrohir in soft shades of grey and green; Prince Imrahil in a rich blue; Celeborn in silver and Gimli in his usual mail but with a rich russet cloak. The children were all clad in their best, and even young Boromir had managed to remain clean so far, much to Eowyn's astonishment and relief. Bergil and Beregond were both in full dress uniform, the father in that of the White Company while the son wore the insignia of the Citadel.

       Aragorn gazed fondly at his extended family. "Everyone ready? Then let us go!"

       They trooped down to the sixth level and mounted their horses and ponies, who were as beautifully dressed as their riders. The grooms had been up since before dawn, brushing, braiding and saddling the many fine equines for the big day, and the hobbit ponies had never looked so smart. Frodo's Strider was wearing a bridle glittering with gems, and the saddlecloth was a decorated affair of white damask. Bill was also wearing rich apparel and their manes and tails were plaited with white ribbons.

                                                                              ************  

       The excited buzz of voices hushed as the procession appeared and made its way to stand before the gates, where Aragorn had been crowned over ten years before. The King looked so noble that people were stilled in awe. He spoke, his voice carrying on the mild air.

       "My people! Today we celebrate a very special day, the birthday of the Ring-bearer, Frodo Baggins. This year our day is even more special because he is here with us! Ten and a half years ago the One Ring went into the fires of Mount Doom, and our lives were changed forever, for the Shadow departed from Middle-earth. Frodo and Samwise went alone into the heart of the Black Land to do this deed, and they will be remembered as long as my line shall last. On this day I say to you, we no longer have need of the Tower of Guard because the Tower of Sorcery is no more! Minas Tirith shall once more become Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun!"

       The crowds on the walls cheered themselves hoarse. The Towers of the Sun and Moon had faced each other for years, until the Witch-King, Lord of the Nazgul took Minas Ithil and turned it into a place of horror and evil, Minas Morgul. Then Minas Anor had indeed become the Tower of Guard and remained so for the rest of the Third Age.

       "To mark this occasion I here present to Frodo and Samwise a special gift from the people of Gondor! For your bravery, fortitude and endurance, I give you the Minas Anor Star!"

       Faramir stepped forward, bearing a purple cushion on which were two radiant gold sunbursts. The King lifted one and pinned it to the lapel of Frodo's jacket before embracing him and kissing his brow. He did the same to Sam, and both hobbits stood blushing as the crowds cried: "Long live King Elessar! Long live Frodo and Samwise!"

       Rosie almost exploded with pride and felt tears sting her eyes. She felt Arwen's hand on her shoulder, steadying her, and was grateful because she knew she was shaking. She seemed to note every tiny detail: the sun glinting on the King's diadem and his dark hair lifting from his collar in the gentle breeze; Sam's protective arm round Frodo's shoulder and Frodo's grateful smile when he felt the pressure.

       The ceremony of Thanksgiving was a simple one. Everyone gazed east to the Land of Shadow and then faced West, right hands on breasts as the King intoned the words of thanks to the Valar for their assistance.

       "With the help of the Valar and the courage of all Free Peoples, we have peace and prosperity, and the Shadow is no more. We thank the Valar for their help and for granting us strength and wisdom. May this continue until the unmaking of the world!"

       There was a minute of complete silence, then the cheering began, louder than ever, and continued as the barriers were opened. Children appeared, dressed in white, to strew flower petals before them as they mounted their horses. Garlands were draped around the necks of the Ring-bearers, and they rode into the White City through the magnificent new gates. People ran alongside, throwing flowers and calling. After a few minutes' acute shyness, Frodo decided to take part fully in this amazing experience. He waved and then placed his right hand on his heart and bowed. The cheering seemed to double in volume whenever he did this, and Sam tried it too, with a similar effect.

       On every level there were tableaux of some event during the Ring War - Gandalf arriving at Helm's Deep; Eowyn facing the Witch-King; King Elessar taking the Paths of the Dead; Theoden leading the Charge of the Rohirrim, and Frodo and Sam confronting Shelob. Frodo felt ridiculously light-hearted, even when faced with so many reminders of the Quest. It was good to watch the children acting out the events, as no doubt they did in their everyday play, and to see how much it meant to them. Unlike their time in Gondor after the War, when they had been oddities to a people who had not realised hobbits existed, now they were better understood. People in the streets knew more about Halflings than they would have believed possible.

       The King rode between Sam and Frodo, while Eomer rode behind with Queen Arwen and Lothiriel. Then came Faramir and Eowyn with Rosie and the children, Legolas and Gimli, as ever upon Arod, and behind them came Celeborn and his grandsons. Merry and Pippin rode alongside, varying their pace, dropping back then riding to the head of the procession in the proper manner of guards, not that anyone seriously expected any trouble from any quarter. Frodo felt as if he were being carried on a wave of affection and love. He looked up at the people waving from the upper windows of the inns and houses along the way, seeing as much fun and happiness here as at the Free Fair in the Shire. He mused idly that perhaps there were more similarities than differences between hobbits and Big People, and if only Big People spent less time on power and ambition and more on food, ale and pipweed, the world might be a better place.

       "Well, my dear friend, is this what you expected?" enquired Aragorn, turning to him with a smile.

       "I don't know quite what I expected, but this is beyond my wildest imaginings! I have never had such a birthday before, and I don't suppose I will ever have one like it again."

       "I was so afraid that you would never know what this day is like. I thought you would never be well enough to come to Gondor, or that...............that .....your burdens would prove fatal." The King leaned over and clasped Frodo's hand. "It joys my heart to see you here, enjoying the love and adulation of the crowd. You deserve it, my dearest hobbit."

       "I wonder if Bilbo and Gandalf know.............................?"

       "They say there is an all-seeing stone in Valinor, and I am sure they know of this day and share our joy. There will be laughter and celebration in those lands also on this day and no doubt Bilbo is raising a mug to you."

       It was a nice thought, Bilbo with a mug, or a glass of fine Elvish wine. The image lingered in Frodo's mind and he sent his love to the dear old hobbit, and to Gandalf, Elrond and Galadriel. Then he glanced at Sam, and thanked the Valar once again that he had decided to stay.

       Young girls pushed through the crowd to hand posies to Frodo, reaching up to kiss his hand as he took them. He soon had so many bouquets that he and Sam had to hand some to Rosie, the royal ladies, Merry, Pippin and even the King. It looked so incongruous to see Aragorn clutching armfuls of flowers that Frodo could hardly stop laughing.

                                                                               ************

       By the time they reached the Citadel everyone was hungry. Pippin was sure the whole city could hear his stomach growling, since they had eaten nothing since breakfast, and second breakfast, elevenses and luncheon had passed unheeded. They entered the apartments to tidy up and wash their hands but before they could eat they had to respond to the insistent shouts from the crowd on the lower levels, who were still calling for them. Aragorn led them out to the walls and the cheers became deafening. Even after the last bow and wave, the people were still cheering.

       They were escorted to the Merethrond, the Hall of Feasts, Aragorn taking the Ring-bearers by the hands, as he had done on the Field of Cormallen.

       "There will be lots of food and lots of speeches, and it would be best if no-one falls asleep during the speeches, even if the Warden of the Keys is a little long-winded. You ......er........you may be expected to reply to his speech, Frodo."

       "What?! Why didn't you tell me?" he cried. "I have nothing written down or prepared!"

       "I didn't tell you because I did not want you to ruin your day by fretting and fussing over it! Just speak from the heart - I find that is the best way," said Aragorn.

       "That's easy for you to say," Frodo grumbled half-heartedly. "I don't have your experience of public speaking."

       "You filled in as Mayor for a while. I'm sure you'll manage admirably. My dear Frodo, it won't matter what you say. You can just say 'thank you' and sit down again, and everyone will cheer you to the rafters!" He chuckled at Frodo's severely sceptical expression. The dark brows were arched above the brilliant eyes, and that full lower lip was set in something dangerously close to a pout. Then the lips twitched slightly, and Frodo began to laugh.

       "Strider, you are incorrigible!"

       "Oh I hope so!" The King was laughing now. "Don't worry, my friend, no-one will care what you say!"

       "Of course they won't," added Merry. "They'll be too busy admiring the outfit!" He fingered the silk enviously. "Can I have the weskit?"

       "No, you can't! Buy your own, you scoundrel Brandybuck!" He wagged a finger at his cousin, who was grinning in an infuriating manner.

       "When are you going to wear this again? Unless you're going to start being terribly sociable and go to every Shire party for the next five years. Or are you planning to go courting?" teased Merry slyly. "I declare it will take at least six hobbits to hold Hyacinth Bracegirdle back when she sees you in that suit - and it would be a shame if she ripped this weskit in her eagerness!" He danced backwards, out of reach of Frodo's intended clip round the ear.

       "Merry, I think you must like living dangerously! And how on earth are you going to fit this weskit anyway?" demanded Frodo, laughing as he advanced on his cousin. "You're six inches taller than me and a lot fatter! Do you seriously think it will look anything other than ridiculous, riding up under your arms, and you've no more chance of doing it up than I have of being King of Gondor!"

       "Alright, alright! No need to rub it in, Bggins! I suppose I have put on a little weight lately," Merry admitted ruefully, patting his substantial stomach.

       "You need more exercise, Meriadoc! I shall ask Eomer to give you extra duties to help trim your figure," said Aragorn, pretending to be stern although his grey eyes were dancing.

       Merry nodded over at the Elves. "You never see a fat Elf, do you? I wonder why?"

       "We eat but little, and we are very active, not lazy like these hobbits!" said Legolas, smiling down at them with great affection.

       "Should we not go to the banquet?" asked Gimli impatiently. "My stomach thinks my throat's been cut, and poor Pippin here is almost faint with hunger!"

       "I am, I am!" said Pip, staggering exaggeratedly and pretending to be overcome. Rosie fixed him with a look.

       "You ate your own breakfast and most of Frodo's because he was too nervous to eat it, so stop trying it on!"

       "That was days ago!" Pip groaned. "We've missed at least three meals now!"

       They filed in and took their seats at the High Table with the King. When all were in their places they stood and turned to face West, and Frodo remembered Faramir at Henneth Annun when they ate supper with the Rangers of Ithilien. "We look towards Numenor that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be."

                                                                              ************

       Aragorn had not been wrong when he said the Warden of the Keys was long-winded, although his speech was quite amusing. He paid tribute to the Ring-bearers in such fulsome terms that Frodo felt himself to be as red as the King's cloak. He wondered what he could possibly say in reply, in front of so many. His courage almost failed him as he heard the man's speech drawing to a close. Panic rose in a giddy, nauseous wave and he feared he might have to dash for the door. He took a deep breath. Don't be a fool, he told himself. You can't make an ass of yourself, and you can't leave Sam to do it because he's more scared than you are! He wiped his damp hands on his handkerchief and tried to think clearly about his feelings.

       The King stood and nodded . He thanked the Warden for his kind words and then said:

       "I'm afraid I did not warn Frodo that he might have to make a little speech, so please don't be offended if his speech is a short one. The fault is mine, but I did not wish him to trouble himself and worry about it." He indicated Frodo, and sat down.

       Frodo stood. A stool had been thoughtfully place for him to stand on and from his vantage point he surveyed the room. All the faces turned to him expectantly, but their expressions were kind and sympathetic. Perhaps this would not be so bad.

       "Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, my lords and ladies, my lord Warden, I am indeed unprepared to make a speech, just as I was unprepared for the welcome given to us in this city. You have all shown great understanding and kindness.... no, more than kindness......love, which we can never repay................."

       "It is we who can never repay you, Master Baggins," said the Warden softly. Frodo smiled.

       "I've been overjoyed to see my dearest friend Samwise Gamgee receive the praise he deserves. Without him the Quest would have foundered. His strength and courage, his unquenchable hope and optimism brought us through. He saved my life more than once and has saved it countless times since, and I don't know what I'd do without him." He held up his hand to still Sam's protests. "When people ask me what we did, I always say that I carried the Ring but Sam carried me, and he did indeed carry me. For years I have denied my part altogether, being ashamed that I succumbed to the Ring at the last, but I now see that I did all I could. No one - man, elf, dwarf or hobbit - can do more. It has taken me a long while to believe what other people have said - I'm not sure I believe all of it, even now, but I feel I can live with it, and I've been helped by all the friends who have convinced me that I deserved to live. The world will never be as it was, and neither will I. Much that once was is lost, and we can never un-know what we know, but I have learned that although I can never regain what is lost, there are other things to be gained. I see now that I have the love of so many who are dear to me and life is more precious to me now than ever, because I so nearly lost it. I suppose that is how everyone feels, to have nearly lost all that we hold dear, and to be given a second chance. The whole of Middle-earth has been given a second chance, and I am overjoyed to see this great city in all her glory, with a White Tree in the Courtyard and a great King upon the throne. It has been a privilege to share this day with you all, and thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you have bestowed upon us here in Minas Anor."

       He bowed and the entire room erupted in applause. The Warden walked over and knelt before the fragile-looking hobbit, took both his hands and held them for a moment. Then he embraced Frodo gently and kissed his right hand.

       "Master Baggins, that was an eloquent speech, particularly as it was unprepared. Yet spoken from the heart, and all the more moving for it. You and Samwise are held in our hearts. Return to us soon, we beg you, since Ring-Day without you is unimaginable!" He twinkled. "Oh - and happy birthday, my dear Master Baggins!"

       "Thank you." Frodo smiled, relieved and impossibly happy. He had eaten little so far, due to nerves, but now he was very hungry. Everyone sat down and more wine was poured.

       "If.........if I may...................?" Sam stood up suddenly, looking to the King for permission. Aragorn smiled encouragingly and nodded. "Mr Frodo has said a great deal about the kindness we've received, and I echo that. Where we disagree is over his part in the Quest. He says I did a lot and that he just carried the Ring. Well, if you ask me, that was more than enough for anyone to do! Mr. Frodo's always been far too modest about what he did. As for me...... I followed him on that journey because what else would I have done? What sort of a friend would I have been if I'd let him go on his own? When I was only a child I remember Mr. Frodo being kind to me and smiling at me, even when I was pestering him. I knew then that I'd follow him to the ends of the earth if needs be, and I did. What I did I did out of love, and I reckon that's not a bad reason for doing something. My greatest joy in being in this city is seeing my Master receive the praise due to him, and I thank you all for that. Even if I have got myself the sack for speaking out!"

       Blinded by tears, Frodo grabbed Sam's hand and held it. He was shaking with emotion but he finally walked the two steps to Sam on very unsteady legs and embraced him.

       "Looks like my job's safe after all!" Sam remarked, and the chamber echoed with laughter.

       "We do wish to propose a special toast," said Faramir, standing and calling for silence. "Happy Birthday, dearest Frodo!" Everyone stood and raised their glasses. Frodo thanked them, and the banquet continued happily for several hours.

                                                                              ************

       When even the hobbits felt they could not face any more food for an hour or so, the guests departed and everyone staggered into the private quarters. The ceremonial dress was discarded in favour of comfortable robes and they slumped on the couches. The children, who had not attended the banquet, joined them, overflowing with excess energy, and Frodo prepared to give and receive his birthday gifts. He joked that he would need a pack horse to carry them all back to the Shire.

       There were books galore; a very accurate picture of Aragorn and Arwen with the children, and one of Faramir with his family; a lovely sketch of Rivendell from the twins; a very fine carved horse and a magnificent set of silver trappings for his pony; a finely wrought new chain for his watch, made by the dwarves, with matching cufflinks set with emeralds from the Glittering Caves, and a new set of pens and writing tools with assorted inks in a variety of colours. The children gave him a pair of carved wooden cats, one sitting upright and alert with a dead mouse between its paws, the other curled round with its nose tucked under its tail. They reminded him of Rufus, who was no doubt mousing in the barns at the Cotton's farm.

       Aragorn opened his parcels and exclaimed joyfully over a beautiful new pipe, made in the hobbit style but larger. The stem was intricately carved with leaves. He took out a pouch of pipeweed and filled it. The other part of his gift was a fine tankard, which would hold a quart of ale. Etched into the silver were pastoral scenes from the Shire - a plough drawn by a team of horses, sheep being herded by a dog, a farmer's wife feeding some chickens. The detail was exquisite. The silver had come from Aglarond and had been worked by the finest dwarf craftsmen. The King went to the table and tapped the ale barrel, watched by an amused group. Arwen raised her eyebrows in unspoken query.

       "I have to try it out," he explained when he realised he had an audience, an excuse which was greeted with sceptical snorts.

       His second package was large and heavy. When he opened it he gave a little cry of delight.

       "My own copy of the Red Book! This will not be going into any archive! It shall remain here, in my personal library, with pride of place."

       "Frodo copied and bound it himself," said Sam proudly, ignoring Frodo's blush.

       Aragorn's eyes were glittering with tears. "Then it is even more precious to me, and I shall treasure it always, my dearest Frodo. Thank you."

       Frodo's gift to Arwen was a delicate silk stole in a deep crimson. She draped it round her shoulders and laughed as she thanked him. He thought she looked more beautiful than ever. Underneath the stole was a box, and she opened it, gasped and looked wonderingly at Frodo.

       "I give back the gift, my lady, for it truly belongs with you, and one day perhaps your daughters will wear it. It was my aid and comfort when life was dark, and now I return it with my love and gratitude."

       Arwen lifted the white jewel on its chain. It seemed to give off more light than ever, filling the room with joy and peace. "Your own purity and character have strengthened it, Frodo. The jewel gives but it receives also, and your goodness has made it greater than it was. I shall wear it and think always of you and of this moment."

       "If you will permit me.......?" She turned and allowed Frodo to fasten it round her neck, where it shimmered like the light of the evenstar.

       Everyone was opening packets and exclaiming over the contents. There were embroidered dresses for the baby girls, carved dragons for the boys, tankards for Faramir and Eomer, new belts for Beregond and Bergil, and dainty silver girdle belts for Eowyn and Lothiriel. There were pretty necklaces for Finduilas and Gilraen, with which they were overjoyed.

       One large flat package remained to be opened. Frodo had saved it until the end. It contained a painting of the Fellowship as they prepared to leave Rivendell, with Lord Elrond and his people gathered around him as he addressed the group by the gates. Entitled "The Ring-bearer setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom," it was a copy of one they had seen and admired in the museum. It had been painted by one of Rivendell's Elves and he had captured everyone's likeness to perfection. There was Boromir, with his horn and the great shield; Aragorn, smiling slightly in encouragement to Arwen; Gimli and Legolas avoiding each other; Sam standing by his beloved Bill...... The chill of the winter morning and the fallen leaves which formed a carpet round their feet were almost tangible. Frodo felt he might reach into the painting and roll those leaves between his fingers.

       "It's beautiful! I've always wanted a portrait of you all, and this includes Boromir and Gandalf. How wonderful!"

       "We were afraid there would be no room in Bag End to hang this picture, but Pippin assured us there is."

       "Oh yes, there's room. We shall make room. Oh my! What a birthday this has been."

       Later there was Elvish wine and a magnificent birthday cake. The children helped him to blow out the candles and stole scraps of icing as he cut it. Outside the noise of revelry carried on; bonfires and beacons were lit and people continued to sing and dance in the streets, determined to enjoy every moment of the day. The whole royal party ventured out into the Courtyard of the Fountain, where a group of the King's musicians were gathered, and there was dancing. Rose found herself being whisked round by the King of Gondor, then by the King of Rohan, Frodo led the Queen by the hand, Merry gallantly danced with Eowyn, and even Gimli was persuaded to step out by a very persistent Gilraen. Sam wished he could capture the whole day somehow, because he did not want it to end. He thought he would never forget a single second of it. Fireworks lit the sky and filled the night with whistles and pops, which continued long after the lights in the royal apartments were dimmed, although dawn was beginning to tint the eastern sky before they finally staggered to bed. Frodo slipped into sleep, thinking of Gandalf and the Shire and Bilbo's party, and of the day's events. It had been a unique birthday.

                                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Autumn 1429 (SR)

The last days of the visit flew by with more sightseeing, picnics and trips to see the strolling players. Rosie was fascinated by the magic they created, and they went to see them on several occasions. They visited Snowmane's Howe on the Pelennor, and saw the place where the carcase of the fell-beast was burned, where nothing ever grew. They also enjoyed a trip on the River Anduin in a magnificent covered barge. Rosie was very nervous when she first stepped into the boat but she soon settled and decided she liked the gently rocking motion. She reclined on the cushions, feeling like a queen, and the others teased her that she was going to stay in Gondor and live in style. They ate and drank and the men smoked, and Aragorn said all monarchs and nobles should spend time with hobbits. Gandalf had always said it was good to have a hobbit or two nearby because it ensured that everyone kept their feet anchored in the soil. They spent evenings in the gardens, smoking and drinking ale under the stars, sharing hopes and dreams and just sitting in companionable silence, as dear friends do.

       They were all sorry when their stay finally ended, but they had to leave in early October in order to be home before winter set in, and the King knew it would be unfair to keep them away from the Shire and the children any longer.

       "Besides, it is hardly a parting - we shall soon travel to my Northern Kingdom, and there we shall meet again. The Palace of Annuminas is being restored to its former glory, and you shall all come and view the improvements.  My good Gimli and his friends have been overseeing the re-building. I also wish to visit the city of Fornost to pay my respects to those of my people who lost their lives during those dark years." He lit his pipe and blew a smokering. "Ah! Old Toby! That and Longbottom Leaf are my two favourites I have to say." He sighed contentedly and stretched his long legs out, Strider the Ranger once more. "I hope I get to meet all these characters I've heard so much about and seen tantalising glimpses of. Can't wait to meet Mrs. Bracegirdle!" He threw a wicked grin in Frodo's direction.

       "Very funny! Although I daresay she'll cast me aside without a second glance once she meets the King!"

       Frodo's usually angelic face was suddenly suffused by an evil smile. "What a good idea!" he said, delighted by the thought. "I can't wait to introduce you!"

       "Cruel, cruel," murmured Aragorn, chuckling softly. "You'd do that to me?"

       "You'd be more successful in fighting her off than I am," Frodo giggled. "And the....er...'Gap of Rohan' would not seem as daunting to you!"

       Faramir and Eomer joined in the laughter. It had been a happy time for everyone, and one they would remember forever.

                                                                             ************

       The children were all upset when the time came to say good-bye to their friends. Even little Boromir was subdued and a bit tearful, and the girls sobbed and clung to their favourite hobbits, wailing protests.

       "Now, little one, you will see us again soon. Please don't cry or you'll make us cry too!" Frodo attempted to disentangle himself from little Gilraen, who was clinging round his legs. As fast as he unclurled one hand the other grabbed on again.

       "No! Don't want you to go! Won't let you!" She grabbed his hand and kissed it. "Stay here for ever and ever, Uncle Frodo!" She snaked her other hand round Sam's knee. "You too, Uncle Sam! And Aunt Rosie!"

       "Listen, my little petal," said Sam gently, "There are other little girls and boys waiting at home for us, and they would be heart-broken if we didn't go home. You wouldn't want them to be sad, now would you?"

       "Bring them here, and we can all live together!" said Eldarion. "We'll be sad if you leave, but I don't like to think of your children being sad and lonely without you." He scrubbed the tears from his cheeks and tried to smile. "I do want to meet them all."

       "And so you shall, my dear child," said Rosie, hugging the future King of Gondor and stroking his hair. "As your Papa says, you will all be travelling north to Annuminas, and we will come and stay and bring all the children to meet you. They are as anxious to meet you, you know."

       "Does Frodo-lad like frogs and things?" Boromir asked. Rosie laughed.

       "He's like his dad - likes most creatures unles they're eating his precious plants. He's going to be another fine gardener, that one."

       "Papa! We should have a Shire Garden here in Gondor! Uncle Sam can tell us what to plant, and it will remind us of all our hobbit friends." Eldarion's grey eyes shone and he gazed up at his father with a pleading expression which Aragorn was powerless to refuse - not that he wanted to.

       "I think that is a wonderful idea! Perhaps Sam and Legolas can devise something before we part?"

       Little Finduilas tucked herself under Frodo's arm and snuggled up to him. "What's your favourite flower, Uncle Frodo?"

       He looked at her and smiled. "I like all flowers but I think roses are my favourite. Although the flowers in Rivendell and Lorien were very beautiful, like elanor and niphredil."

       "My favourites are the creamy white roses, and forget-me-nots, because they remind me of Frodo's eyes," said Sam thoughtfully.

       "Then we must grow some," said Faramir.

       "We grow lovely irises at Bag End too," added Frodo wistfully. "We planted those for poor Smeagol - the Gladden Fields, you know?" He smiled wryily. "I wonder what he would think? Probably reckon 'Master' had taken leave of his senses!"

       "I don't know so much," murmured Sam. "He was awfully fond of you when he was Smeagol - I think he'd be touched."

       "It is settled," declared Aragorn. "We shall have a Shire garden here in Gondor to remind everyone of our dear friends in the North." He grinned wickedly. "I wonder if we can grow Longbottom Leaf?"

       "We shall think of you, sitting in a hobbit garden here in Minas Anor, puffing away on some good, Gondor-grown pipeweed!" Frodo said, half-laughing. "I shall miss you, dear Strider, but we will write frequently and tell you all the gossip from Hobbiton..........."

       "Including the latest on your love affair with Mrs Bracegirdle!" Aragorn interrupted, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed at Frodo's mutinous expression.

       "Or if you won't tell us, we shall rely on these three scoundrels to let us in on all your secrets!" said Faramir, hugging Frodo affectionately.

       "I let myself into these things, don't I? She's more of a dragon than poor old Smaug!"

                                                                              ************

       At last the farewells were said, the pack ponies were loaded and the little group prepared to set off. They were riding as far as Edoras with the King and Queen of Rohan and their children, and the Lord Celeborn, with the Imladris twins, together with Gimli and Legolas, who were travelling with them as far as Helm's Deep so that Gimli could show them the Glittering Caves. Aragorn and Arwen embraced their guests lovingly, followed by Faramir and Eowyn. The children put on brave faces and kissed everyone warmly, including baby Pip, who gurgled and laughed, flinging his fat little arms round everyone. Aragorn bounced the baby hobbit until he squealed with delight.

       "I have seen your other children, of course, for I could not resist looking into the palantir when Frodo was recovering. They are beautiful and strong, and Elanor is stunning. I think when we come to the North, she shall be appointed a lady-in-waitng. They will be overjoyed to see you again - I hope to witness that reunion if I may?"

       "You do us so much honour," Sam exclaimed. "One day we hope to welcome you into Bag End, that you may see us at home, as we have seen you."

       "When we do travel to the Brandywine Bridge, I shall present you with the Star of the Dunedain, my dearest Sam, for it is Frodo's wish that it be done before your own people." Sam embraced the King but could not speak.

       Arwen smiled tearfully as she kissed her grandfather and brothers. "Visit us again soon, dearest Anada! It has been so wonderful to have you here." She smiled as he tilted her face and gazed into her eyes.

       "My child, it has given me great joy to see you so happy. You were right to stay - you and Estel have a love which will grow with the years and you will both be reunited beyond the Circles of the World, to love each other for eternity. Love is a rare gift, my dearest child. May the Valar bless you both. Nay, do not weep. I shall come to Gondor again, and I shall also come north to Annuminas. Mithrandir was right - everyone should have a hobbit or two in his care!"

       "Dearest sister, there has never been a more beautiful queen in Gondor! Estel, my friend, be happy." Elladan hugged the royal couple.

       "May the Valar protect you both. No doubt we shall be back to plague you soon, when we have escorted Anada back to Imladris. We may also sneak a trip to the Shire, if the Mayor permits, as we have a longing to see Bag End again and taste Mistress Rose's wonderful cooking," said Elrohir, his eyes twinkling. "Besides, I have to see this Mrs Bracegirdle!"

       "Thank you both," said Frodo. "Perhaps she will be so distracted by you two that she will forget me!"

       Sam beamed. "You are both very welcome, always. You missed the last round of Shire parties so be sure not to miss next Spring's."

       "They won't," said Merry. "I'll get a few barrels from The Golden Perch which is the best ale in all the Shire. You'll enjoy that, won't you?" The twins laughed and nodded.

                                                                               ************

       Those remaining in Gondor saw them off from the fields outside the gates, then returned to the Citadel to watch their progress round the base of Mount Mindolluin, up the North-way and onto the Great West Road. They would spend two days at Edoras before beginning the journey to the Gap of Rohan and home. They would not go through Eregion and Rivendell and Bree this time, but would part with Celeborn and the twins at Isengard and travel the North-South Road to the Sarn Ford.

       They received a warm welcome at Edoras as people turned out to greet their returning King and Queen. Frodo always marvelled at the Rohan people, most of whom lived far more simply than he did at Bag End. They were a hardy people with a genuine affection for their ruling family, who looked to their king as children to a father. Eomer was obviously very popular, particlarly with the ladies, and the hobbits teased him unmercifully for it, to which he submitted with good humour. They explored the city with Merry as guide, which was probably why they managed to get lost for a while, as Frodo remarked. They loved standing on the steps outside the Golden Hall and gazing over the surrounding land, and they were inveigled into playing hide and seek with the children while Celeborn kept score. It was a happy time for all and they were sorry when they had to leave, but the frosts were sparkling on the flat lands of Rohan in the mornings. It was time to go.

       At Helm's Deep Gimli proudly led them into the Glittering Caves and they were left overawed and amazed at the majesty and beauty. Lamps had been placed here and there, designed to bring out the fire inside the crystals, or to shine through some of the delicate veins, glowing pink, yellow, green. Great blooms of rose quartz spilled out of the rock, shimmering like the lips of the lady Galadriel, and rich, exotic blue and crimson minerals peeked through, revealed by the tiniest thinning of covering rock.

       Frodo felt almost overwhelmed. His senses were reeling with the beauty and wonder. He felt such gratitude that he had been allowed a second chance to experience so much richness. He smiled at a stunned Rosie, to whom Gimli presented an exquisite rose quartz crystal set on a mithril chain. She gave the dwarf a kiss, and the others laughed to see a blush rise under the beard as Gimli was covered in confusion.

       As they rode near Fangorn they noticed a new group of trees, which were obviously rather more than they seemed. To their delight it was Treebeard, Quckbeam and three more Ents, who were waiting for them.

       "Treebeard!"

       "Good day, eldest," said Celeborn, bowing to the old Ent.

       "Haroom, my friends, this is a merry meeting. You have been to Gondor?"

       Pippin nodded. "We have. The King sends his greetings to Fangorn. Is Isengard undisturbed?"

       "Nothing and no-one comes near." He spied Sam, Frodo and Rosie. "This lady I have never met - will you not introduce her, Samwise?" Sam jumped and cursed himself for being a ninnyhammer.

       "This is Rose, my wife, and the baby is called Pippin. The other children are at home."

       Rosie had been rather wary of the strange being but as she looked into the reassuring depths of his eyes she knew there was nothing to be afraid of. She smiled shyly up at Treebeard and spoke.

       "I've heard a lot about you, sir, and I'm honoured to meet you at last."

       "A pretty one! And lots of little hobbitlings at home? I am glad to hear it." He turned to Frodo. "How fares the Ring-bearer? You look much better than when I saw you last."

       Frodo cheerfully admitted to being very well, and the Ents seemed genuinely pleased. They talked for a while before bidding them farewell and riding towards the Gap of Rohan, where they said good-bye to Celeborn, Elladan and Elrohir, who promised to visit the Shire the following spring.

       Soon it was just the five of them. In the evenings they would set up camp, light a fire and sit quietly, watching the stars emerge, Rosie lulling baby Pip to sleep while the men smoked their pipes. Their progress was steady and comfortable and their travelling lightened with laughter. They traversed the wide expanse of Enedwaith and crossed the turbulent River Greyflood at Tharbad. The next river was the dear old Brandywine, flowing quite rapidly as it made its way towards the Blue Mountains and the sea. Frodo stared into the frothy water; despite the fact that his parents had drowned in the river he still thought of it as part of home. He had taught Merry and Pip to swim in it, after all.

                                                                             ************

       It was afternoon when they rode over the Sarn Ford and were back in their beloved Shire. They had a choice now: to take the road and stay at Great Smials, or to go cross-country and stay at an inn in Pincup overnight. They opted to go to Pincup, and trotted through the South Farthing towards Green Hill Country, happy in each others' company without the need to say much. It was November, and the sweet familiar smell of autumn was in the air, that evocative mixture of rotting leaves, damp soil and woodsmoke which marked the season clearly to anyone with a sense of smell and imagination. The land was preparing to go to sleep for the winter, guarding the seeds for next summer's harvest. The trees were still wearing their autumnal colours, although most were in scanty garb now, the last few leaves clinging on gallantly until they were torn away by the first gale. Dry leaves gathered in drifts in the gateways and under hedgerows, eddying and swirling as the wind caught them. In the distance the land was veiled in a damp mist and a haze from many bonfires. Smoke puffed from many chimneys and drifted in the still air. Sam felt his heart sing as he rode. Some folk said autumn was a melancholy time but to him it was merely another change, another season in the cycle of nature of which he was a part.

       The inn was warm and welcoming, their rooms comfortable and the blazing fire in the parlour was very inviting. Merry and Pip saw to the ponies while Sam carried the bags in. There were a few regulars in the bar, who greeted them with interest and listened in awe to their tales of Rohan and Gondor, while at the same time giving them wary looks. Bagginses, Brandybucks and Tooks were known to be a bit strange but the Gamgees had been ordinary respectable Shirefolk until all that Baggins influence turned them odd. Rosie could hardly refrain from giggling, and wondered how these staid people would react when the King came north to visit. Frodo often quoted someone as saying that travel broadened the mind, and these folk could certainly do with having their minds broadened. She chuckled again as she remembered Pippin remarking that it also broadened the arse when the days were spent on ponies!

       They had the parlour to themselves as the only overnight guests. The stew was rich and filling, the ale almost as good as a 1420, and the apple and blackberry pie with cream just begged to be eaten. Baby Pip snoozed and snored in his basket beside his mother, one hand resting on his rounded tummy while the other was tucked beneath his chin, thumb in mouth.

       "That was wonderful!" Frodo pushed his plate away, lit his pipe and leaned back in his chair. The trip had been a joyous event but home was always best and it was good to be back.

       "You know......" Sam began, filling his pipe. "........I've said it before but I'm going to say it again anyway. It's nice to know there's a big world out there, but it's even nicer to be in here, in the Shire. The world's a nice place, right enough, but I wouldn't want to live there! Not forever, if you get my drift. It was marvellous to see all our friends again, and visit amazing places, but here is where we're meant to be."

       Rosie nodded. "I had a lovely time, and it was a luxury not to have anything to do, but I'll enjoy getting back to my own kitchen and some proper work.

       "Sure you can remember how?" teased Merry. "You'll have forgotten how to make pastry and what goes into your famous parsnip pie. Your mother will have to teach you all over again!"

       "Hah!" she said airily. "I cooked for us all when we stayed in Emyn Arnen - and the King himself praised my cooking. I've had to promise to send him some of my jam and chutney. Do you think I can copy Mr. Butterbur and put "By Appointment" on the jars?"

       "We ought to go and pay old Barliman a visit soon," said Frodo. "He gave us such a welcome last time!"

       "Yes, he burst into tears when he saw 'dear Mr Baggins' alive and well," said Pippin. "He was burbling more than usual, and more forgetful than ever."

       "Gandalf always said he had a mind like a lumber room!" Frodo chuckled. "Poor old Barliman, he was quite emotional, wasn't he?"

       Pippin went off to bring more ale and returned to say that Estella and Diamond were staying at Great Smials, according to the well-informed local gossips. He and Merry would therefore part from the others on the Stock Road and turn west towards Tuckborough, for a few days pleasant lazing with Pip's family. Frodo, Sam and Rosie were anxious to see the children again, so their paths would diverge on the morrow. They drank each other's health and reminisced about their adventures before making their way to bed, pleasantly tired and ridiculously contented.

       They set off early the next morning, watched by a group of curious Pincup residents. Frodo settled the bill and emerged to find a pleasant autumn morning, crisp and clear with a hint of frost. The remaining leaves glowed on the trees and the sky was a sharp bright blue. It was going to be a lovely day. He waved and nodded to the watchers and mounted his pony, clicked his tongue encouragingly and Strider obediently moved off.

       They rode steadily for the Stock Road, halting along the way for a combined second breakfast and elevenses. At the road they parted from Merry and Pip, who turned left, their two extra pack ponies laden with gifts from their Rohan and Gondorian hosts. They waved to each other until the road dipped and the two had vanished from sight, then they had an early lunch before the last cross-country part of the journey. When they reached the Three Farthing Stone they knew they were almost home, and the ponies seemed to know it too, for they picked up speed and began a fast trot onto the East Road and through Bywater, where they were greeted with delight by the folk in the market square. The afternoon sun was setting as they rode into Hobbiton to an equally warm welcome, then out and up the hill towards Bag End and home.

                                                                             ************

       Gammer Cotton was taking in some washing and the children were frolicking in the garden while Frodo-lad swept up the dead leaves and carried them to the compost heap. Rufus was happily pouncing on the leaves and rolling over before rushing off again. They were expecting the travellers at some time, and had returned to Bag End to dust and polish and make ready. The smell of baking filled the smial and drifted out on the chilly air as Merry-lad tottered around his gammer's feet, picking up fallen pegs and yelling in outrage when Rosie-lass took them away before they went in his mouth. Ellie was helping to fold the washing and put it in the basket when the sound of hooves in the lane made them all look up.

       "Mum! Dad! Uncle Frodo!" the children all yelled together as they made a dash for the gate, where they were forestalled by Mrs.Cotton, who refused to allow them out until the ponies had halted. Once the three had dismounted, the gate was opened and four very excited children hurtled out and threw themselves at their beloved parents and uncle. Everyone was laughing and crying and exclaiming all at once. Baby Pip's size was marvelled at, and Rosie could not believe how much the others had grown in a few months.

       "By Elbereth! You've sprung up like one of your dad's prize marrows!" said Frodo, hugging his little namesake and burying his face in the sandy curls. He pulled Ellie into the hug and she wrapped her arms tightly round his neck.

       "We missed you, but did you have a lovely time?"

       "What was it like?"

       "Is the King as kind and handsome as you said he was?"

       "Is the Queen still as beautiful?"

       "What are the children like?"

       "Would we like them?"

       "When can we meet them?"

       "Woah!" said Frodo. "I'm quite dizzy from all those questions! Let us inside and we'll tell you all about it once we've unloaded the baggage and stabled these poor ponies."

       While Rosie and her mother shepherded the children inside, Sam and Frodo took the five ponies round to the stable and rubbed them down before making sure they had hay and water. This took some time and the children were hopping up and down impatiently by the time they returned, watching for them from the doorway, peering into the dusk and calling to them to hurry.

       The smial was warm and cozy and full of the smells of home: polish, baking, washing. Frodo allowed himself to be enveloped in the dear familiarity of it all. It had been his home for so long, and no matter where he went he was always comforted to know that it was still here, nestling in the side of the hill, the polished floors, the dried flowers, the cheerful clutter. He removed his cloak and jacket and sat down in the rocking chair beside the fire, wiggling his toes in the warm glow and sighing with contentment. He greeted Mrs Cotton and she beamed and handed him a cup of tea.

      "There you are, Mr Frodo. You do look well - quite a glow in your cheeks now. It is grand to have you all back."

       "Thank you, Mrs Cotton. It's been a wonderful time but it's nice to be back." He lifted Rufus on to his lap and stroked the soft fur. "You've grown fatter than ever, my lad."

       "My Tom wants to borrow him now and then. Says he's never known such a ratter! No wonder he's fat."

       Sam started to chuckle. "See, I told you he's not a typical hobbit! He hasn't even noticed the tea table yet!"

       Frodo turned and followed the direction of Sam's finger, while the children hugged themselves and tried to stifle their giggles. His eyes widened as he looked at the table, set out by the women and children while they had attended to the ponies. Pippin would have swooned away in sheer delight - there were sandwiches, tartlets, cakes, a ham and a side of beef, a huge bowl of crisp salad, two loaves of fresh-baked bread and pats of creamy butter, not to mention a fruit pie and an enormous jug of cream. A dreamy smile spread slowly over Frodo's features.

       "Ah! My goodness, it's a feast fit for a king! I hope you'll both cook for Aragorn whe he comes to Annuminas. He won't want to go home again!"

       He sat down at the table and the others joined him. Lamps were lit, the fire stoked, more tea was poured, plates filled and the excited chatter was replaced by munching for some time.

       At last they all sat back, undoing buttons to accommodate the feast they had just consumed. The children snuggled against their parents and uncle, eager for tales of kings and castles, and they were not disappointed. With little Pip asleep in the cradle and the others snuggled, each on an adult's lap, they asked endless questions until their eyelids were drooping. Sam looked at his family with such love and pride he thought he would burst: Ellie lay in her father's arms and little Fro had his head on his uncle's shoulder, half-asleep although he would have indignantly denied it. Rosie cradled Merry-lad and Mrs Cotton nursed a snoozing Rosie-lass. Rose smiled across the table at Sam and dropped a kiss on little Merry's head, and Frodo looked up and caught her eye and grinned.

       Outside, the wind picked up and howled along the lane. Rufus stretched out before the fire, sprawled on his back with his legs in the air. The logs crackled in the grate, sending sparks flying up the chimney, and the closed curtains made everywhere feel very warm and safe. Sam looked around with great satisfaction.

       "Well, we're back," he said.

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