A/N: This story assumes that Elanor was NOT married on the date listed in The Tale of Years, Appendix of Return of the King. There it states that Elanor and Fastred were married in the year 1451 by Shire Reckoning. That would have meant she was 30 when she was married. I am changing things around a little bit, since I wrote the story before looking up the date. I will say Elanor married Fastred when she was 33, only three years later.

~Elanor's Birthday~ 

The sky is dark and dreary as I lay on the couch in the parlor, a blanket wrapped around me. Rain is pouring down the windows, feeding the greedy flowers in the garden. My da will have made sure they won't be broken or destroyed in this storm. The weather causes my mood to change very quickly these days, and now the dark depression of the outside world has somehow seeped into me. I don't feel like doing anything at the moment, and thank Iluvitar no one is making me. There is a book lying on the table, waiting to be picked up and explored, but I do not have the heart to read it right now. I know that when I open the front leaf it will have my uncle's name penned on the front, and I don't think, in my current mood, I could handle that very well. Most people assume I don't remember Frodo Baggins. They think that all I know of him is what was told to me by my parents. They are wrong. My little brother, who is named after my uncle, can see him, talk to him as though he were really there, though they are miles and miles apart. He started having these visions when he was very young, four or five years old. But my memories go back farther than that. A part of my uncle is still here in me. In my memories. A few days before he left for the Undying Lands, he took me to the garden alone, and there told me, in simple words, in an unfrightening way, why he needed to leave. He said he was dying, and if he left there would be hope for him, and for his family. He told me never to forget his words, and I haven't forgotten them since, even though I was only six months old at the time. I remember clearly the haunted, strained look in his blue eyes, and how he looked on me with love, even through all that pain. He is gone now, and I think that is partly to blame for my moods of late. I have been thinking much about my uncle, and Fro has been having more of his "visions" lately. My da enters the room and sits by me.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, looking into my eyes the way he does when he’s searching for signs of me troubled. I know it’s the same way he used to look in Uncle Frodo’s eyes when he was looking for signs of illness or a troubled mind. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

I shrug, and let him pull me closer to him.

“You all right, Ellie? You haven’t seemed quite yourself today,” he states.

I shake my head. “It’s the weather, Da. It makes me sad,” I reply.

He looks towards the window at the dismal scene outside, and sighs. “I had hoped the weather would be nice for your coming of age on Sunday,” he says, “but I suppose that’s too much to ask for the middle of March, isn’t it?”

I nod, smiling a little. My da always wants things to be perfect for us children. He wanted the same for Frodo, but it didn’t happen that way. Frodo left, despite my da’s efforts. It just wasn’t enough to heal something far beyond either of them.

“But you know, Legolas is coming to the Shire tomorrow, and he wrote me and said he’s bringing you a gift straight from the King and Queen,” Da says, again trying to lift my spirits. “And your mum said she’d take you to the dress makers tomorrow to get material for a new dress.”

I smile again. Perhaps all is not so dreary after all. But still, my mood isn’t much different. Perhaps it has something to do with my coming of age, as my mum told me. I am older now, not a child anymore, and yet, I do not feel like an adult. I still feel like a young girl wanting nothing more than to talk with my da all day about the flower gardens, or read the books my uncle left us.

“Well, your mum sent me in to call you to dinner, not talk about party plans. I hope you’re hungry, because she made your favorite, chicken with mushroom gravy.” Da stands and helps me to my feet. He holds me at arms length for a moment, then hugs me tightly. “You’re so beautiful Elanorellë. If only Frodo could see you now,” he says. “He’d be as proud of you as I am.”

Now I smile a little, and hug my da back.

* * *

The next day my mood isn’t considerably different. I enjoyed the time with my mum, but the rain is still dreary, and the sky still dark.

Mum and I come home to find a rather tall elf sitting in our parlor, conversing with my da. We stash the yards of lavender and blue material in the hall closet and hurry to greet our old friend, Legolas.

“Aiye!” I exclaim, rushing to hug him, his presence causing my mood to lighten a little. I doubt it is possible for anyone to be gloomy long with an elf around. 

“Mae govannen, Elanor!” he responds, smiling as he gathers me in his long arms. “Your father has been telling me all about your party tomorrow,” he says.

“Has he? I suppose he mentioned that Fastred is going to be there,” my mum says with a mischievous grin.

“MUM!” I exclaim, feeling my face grow hot.

“Well, he is going to be there, dear, and he’s going to want to dance with you most of the night,” Mum says.

“Your da has told me about Fastred as well, Elanor,” Legolas states. “Though he had better be willing to allow you one dance with me.”

I grin. Legolas taught me many elven dances last time he was in the Shire, and I had begged him to dance them with me at my coming of age. I do have real uncles, my da has two older brothers, but sometimes it seems to me that my pretend uncles, Merry Brandybuck, Pippin Took, Legolas and Gimli (when they visit the Shire, usually once or twice a year, with letters in between) are more my uncles than my real ones.

“Of course he’ll have to,” I say. “You already promised me a dance, whereas he has yet to speak to me on the matter.”

He chuckles, then says, “I suppose you’re wondering what Aragorn and Arwen sent you. I can see it in your eyes. Hobbits have a way of showing their curiosity very clearly it seems.” He looks at us in wonder, then says, “It’s with my horse. I will be right back.”

Moments later, he returns, carrying a big bag, and instantly I know what the Queen sent me. He sets it down and I pull aside the cloth bag to reveal an intricately carved wooden butter churn. I smile and laugh, my mood from yesterday definitely gone.

“Mum, she sent me the butter churn!” I exclaim, remembering it sitting in the Queen’s private kitchens the year that we spent in Gondor. The Lady Arwen must have remembered how I admired the lovely carvings and had used it every chance I could get. She said it was very like a hobbit to admire the useful objects when made pretty. She had told me that elves care more for the look of a thing. She had grown very fond of me that year, and I of her. That she would think to gift me with this was very heartfelt and thoughtful of her.

“I must write her right away and thank her for this,” I say. “I shall put it in my home when I am married.”

As I head off to my room to pen the Queen a letter of thanks, I suddenly realize I shall be grown up tomorrow, and I’m not sure what to make of it. Most of me is scared to be grown up. When I was a child, all I wanted to do was to turn fifty, and go off on an adventure of my own, but now I know you don’t need to be that old. I have a strange feeling that Fastred will want to ask me to marry him shortly after I am of age and I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet, but it would definitely be an adventure of a sort.

* * *

I sit in the garden the afternoon before my party. We only invited our close friends and relatives, as I didn’t want a big party. I don’t like people praising me and fawning over me, even on my birthday. It makes me uncomfortable. Therefore there is also very little preparations to be made, so I have much of the afternoon to myself.

As I pick up the trowel Da left by the elanor flowers Legolas gave him, the tall elf comes out the front door of Bag End and settles himself beside me.

“You’re troubled, mellon nin?” he asks, gazing at me with his deep, serious blue eyes.

I shrug. “I s’pose,” I reply.

“What is bothering you?” he asks, and I begin to tell him what I could not tell my Da. Somehow it is easier to explain it to an Elf who has been around ages longer and knows much of the world.

I tell him how I am almost afraid to grow older, and how I am worried I’m not ready to be an adult. I tell him, blushingly, of Fastred, and how his eye has been on me since the moment we met, and how he knows I am the lass for him. I tell him of how I feel I am not ready to be a wife.

And he smiles at me with a knowing look, as old as the earth itself, it seems. “You fear you are not ready for growing up?”

I nod.

“But you are. Your siblings look up to you, your parents respect you, and your friends know you are one to be trusted. You do not have to feel grown up to be grown up. Think of your uncle Pippin. He still acts like a child sometimes, but that does not mean he isn’t grown up and responsible.” He looks at me thoughtfully. 

I shovel a weed away from my name-flowers, and smile a little. “You’re right, you know,” I state. “I suppose I never really saw that.” I pause a moment to let the words really sink in. “Thank you, that was very helpful.”

“Now, will you smile for me, hiril nin,” he asks, jokingly referring to his old nicknames for me, “Princess of the Hobbits.”

I oblige him with a grin, and he gives me a hug.

“Now, do you remember those dances I taught you?” he asks, giving me his best serious teacher look.

I nod. “How could I forget them?” I state.

“Good. The party is starting soon, so we’d best head inside.”

* * *

Fastred is watching me as I dance with Legolas, I can tell. When I glance over at him, his face turns red, and he looks away. I assume that some of the hobbits think it strange that an Elf would join a hobbit party, but many of them know Legolas, and know he is an old friend of the family, if the stories be true, mind.

Then finally Fastred comes up to me and asks Legolas if he can dance with me. Legolas bows quite formally, and allows him to be my partner.

“You look quite grown up, Ellie,” he says as the music starts in a familiar hobbit dance. “I almost didn’t recognize you in that new dress.” He grins at me, teasing.

I smile at him. “Yes, I feel quite grown up today,” I reply, going along with his teasing. “I assume that will be different by tomorrow, though.”

“Indeed, tomorrow you will be the same little Elanor I fell in love with,” he says, grinning widely.

This might be the best birthday I’ve had yet, I think as he spins me around, and I know exactly what question he is going to ask next.

We will be getting married this spring, as soon as the summer flowers begin to bloom, and now I know I am ready to marry him. And I know, as my Da would say, that my Uncle Frodo would be proud of how grown up I am.

~Finis~