Elrond was in his study when a great darkness roiled over him. He groped out for his little brother as he felt the cold of the Morgul‑king invade his senses. He fell to his knees and implored, Help him, Adar! Please!

Elrond focused on Frodo and saw him surrounded by great darkness, but around him specifically was a halo of light. The Elf‑lord watched in horror as Frodo lurched toward the dark tower, then was pulled back by Sam whose face was illuminated as he entered the ring of light momentarily. There was another great struggle as the Witch‑king rose in might and Elrond watched helplessly as Frodo’s hand crept toward the chain around his neck. Then he saw the little one’s will master that hand and move it instead toward the phial that Galadriel had given him. The battle was won again, for the moment. The darkness lessened just a bit and Elrond and Frodo both slumped. The Elf‑lord agonized over being a witness to such struggles and being helpless to intervene.

It is getting worse. How much more, Adar? How many more times will he be tested? I grieve for what this is doing to his fëa. The peril grows so very great.

Your brother’s strength grows also.

It is an honor to see, but the power of the Enemy beats upon him with ever increasing intensity. How can any endure it?

My grace increases in him as well.

I know that will be enough, but goheno nin, Adar, I can see so little of his Road and it grows so dark.

Then trust Me Who can see his entire Path. The darkness will deepen, but ever My Light will be there. No created being has ever conquered that for no created being made it to bend it to his will.

I believe, Adar. Help my unbelief.

A darkness greater than physical night suddenly overcame Elrond as he walked in the garden of Imladris under the starlight. For a long, terrible moment he feared he had been blinded as he staggered forward a step, reaching out for support along a wall. He felt something sticky rub against his hand, then another hand take his. But he was alone in the garden.

He stretched out his mind to his little brothers and knew then the darkness through which Frodo and Sam were traveling. Adar?

They are drawing nearer to our Enemy, though many leagues and dangers are still ahead.

And around them. What is that terrible thing I sense?

Two of my fallen children.

Elrond felt Frodo and Sam’s terror and also their determination, strength and courage. Ever more he was awed and humbled by these little ones. His sight returned as Galadriel’s phial sprang into life and as he heard Frodo call upon Elbereth, his heart eased a bit. Such power would protect them even as he stretched out his own senses in an effort to do so.

He felt Frodo’s wild joy at the sight of the exit to the tunnel. Hope flared in his own heart at the same time and was crushed at the same time when he felt a sharp nick to his neck. He reached his hand up and was truly surprised when it didn’t come away bloody. He reeled from the darkness and poison that threatened to overwhelm him and only with great effort was he able to push it back. He felt Frodo fall headlong into the same blackness and reached out in vain to catch him.

Adar!!

It is to be this way, My child. I am with him.

Elrond tried to believe and trust. He watched the battle Sam had with Gollum and then with Shelob and he was proud and humbled by the extraordinary courage of that little one. He knew many others would blanch at such an encounter.

He is a marvel, Adar. They both are.

Love gives him the strength and not just his own.

Elrond listened as Sam was inspired to call upon Elbereth and was swiftly answered. The victory that the Elf lord realized was inevitable came, but there was no time to celebrate it. Despair followed on its heels, snatching it away as Sam rushed to his master’s side and called out in vain for an answer. Elrond’s heart twisted to hear such increasing grief and he wished to enclose Sam’s broken heart within his own, but he wondered what shelter it would give for his was just as torn.

Is this the end of their toil? Please, Adar, don’t make it so.

Everything is working against the Enemy.

Against?

Verily.

He listened as long as he could bear to Sam’s broken sobs. The darkness that shrouded the little one’s heart began to fill his also. Elrond and Sam both still held onto faith and trust, but they were being tested in ways they had never been before and both feared being unequal to the challenges before them. The Elf‑lord saw Sam kiss Frodo’s brow, then gently remove the chain with the Ring. Tears streaked down the Elf’s cheeks unnoticed as he listened as that humble gardener and guardian begged for forgiveness and promised to return to his beloved master’s side, never to leave again.

Then he watched Sam move away, head first bowed low under the weight of the Ring, then straightened with an effort of the will and strength from outside.

He is alone now. How can he bear such a burden?

Your brothers are not alone, My child. Do you doubt even now?

Elrond bowed his head. I want to believe, but goheno nin, Adar. My eyes are so much weaker than Yours, as is my faith. I cannot see his Road. It is leading deeper and deeper into the shadows and my sight fails.

You do not need to see in order to believe. Listen and trust instead.

Elrond felt the dizziness due to the growing thirst of the hobbits and their weariness, especially that of Frodo, the drain not only on his hroa but his fëa. The darkness around the Elf‑lord was more than the night that he treasured. He felt the black over his heart even in his well‑lit study, but he was in his gardens now, walking in a safe, guarded area where Frodo and Sam struggled through lands growing more perilous all the while. He knew it had to be them, that it couldn’t be any others, but...

Please, Adar, please help them. They are alone, surrounded by their enemies.

They are not alone, My child. They are also surrounded by the enemies of their enemies.

The blackness had not entered his heart the way it had Iorhael’s, but the Elf lord wished it would if it meant that his little brother would be saved from it. The Elf‑lord was gladdened that the growing darkness found little purchase in Sam’s heart which was so filled with love for his master, instead of the terrible night that shrouded Frodo’s. Elrond heard Sam’s prayer for light and water and added his own fervent supplication.

Let them feel Your Light as well, Adar, please. Iorhael is being drained so by the darkness.

And he is being filled by the Light. In the struggle in that small and great heart is also the greatest hope, though he cannot hold it himself. Many others hold it for him, his heartbrothers and all those who have fought alongside him.

I hold it as well, but I grieve. How can such a hard road be borne?

In the same way it has been borne by you and all those of My children who have fought the Shadow. You have not stopped fighting simply because you have been defeated more than once. You understand that there is more merit in suffering to end an evil than in fleeing it. Your brother didn’t think he was strong enough for this either, but he is discovering more and more that he is. He is growing stronger as he is growing weaker. He will not fail. The Enemy is sowing his own defeat in that fëa he so seeks to dominate.

Elrond felt the Nazgûl fly over where Frodo and Sam were, felt the cold in that soul pierce him and his brother and knelt down in his garden and continued to pray.

I wish I had Your sight, Adar. My faith and trust are so weak.

Then take his. He does not even know Who he trusts, but he still believes. He has no hope of his own, but he still trusts.

Soon he looked up and felt his prayers answered. At the same time he felt Sam’s excitement about the bit of light. Frodo’s spirit still struggled under its burden, but then Elrond felt the pain of it ease a bit. He knew that Sam had taken his master’s hand or had otherwise brought some comfort. The Elf lord longed to bring aid of his own, but knew that Sam being there was more help than he could provide.

Le hannon, Adar.

He did not rise from his position and that is how Arwen found him an hour later. She joined him there, held her father’s hand and added her own prayers. Elrond clasped her hand firmly and together they prayed, their link adding power to their pleas. It was joy for them to know that another prayer had been answered: the hobbits had found water. Elrond felt his own throat eased, though he was surrounded by water.

Elrond jerked from a sound sleep when his little brother’s panic reached him. He sat up and reached out to soothe the fear before he even knew what caused it. He threw on his dressing robe and fled barefoot to the iaun.

What he saw unfold in the sight given him was Frodo and Sam being pushed into a line of Orcs traveling down a road.

Adar! No!

I am with them, My child. All is happening as I wish it to be.

Elrond’s body felt an agony of exhaustion, thirst and hunger. He stood in his garden under beloved stars, a breeze rustled his cloak and hair, but all he felt was the darkness and a terrible pain beyond anything he had ever felt as he watched and felt the tortuous path taken by the two hobbits.

He watched as Frodo’s hand often reached up to answer the call of the Ring and slowly return to his side as his will recalled it. Each time the Elf lord could feel another tear in his brother’s fëa as it fought off the assault. It was bleeding in so many places now. Elrond wished to cradle it, but he knew not how to staunch such a great number of wounds.

Adar, please, Adar, stop this. How can they bear this any longer?

They are near to the finish.

To their own?

To the one long designed.

Elrond watched as Frodo stopped, unable to go further, head bent between knees, arms dangling at his side, hands twitching.

Oh, gwador nîn, Elrond thought in grief and admiration. And shame. For he realized it was his own strength to endure what he felt only through the gift of Ilúvatar that was failing, and not the strength and courage of the ones who were truly bearing the terrible burdens.

A song rose in him then, one he had sung to his children or had heard his wife sing, thousands of years previously, as they slept. Now in his garden, under the stars, he softly raised his voice again.

“Sleep, thou child of Eru,

Safe in His embrace;

May Elbereth surround thee

With her light and grace.

Close thine eyes, beloved,

May thy dreams be blest;

Sleep, thou child of Eru,

And may thy soul find rest.

“Sleep, thou child of Eru;

Dreams I’ll weave for thee:

Dreams of rivers flowing

Onward to the sea,

Dreams of stars that glisten

In the heavens high,

Dreams of fields and forests,

Slumb’ring ’neath the sky.

“Sleep, thou child of Eru,

Cradled in His arms;

May His love surround thee,

Keeping thee from harm.

Hush now, my beloved,

May thy dreams be blest.

Sleep, thou child of Eru,

Elrond gasped as he woke from nightmare visions. Drenched in sweat, he rose to rinse his face and seek the source of the terrible images that clung to him, receding only reluctantly into the black well from where they had sprung. In the dim candlelight burning in honor of Ilúvatar, Elrond’s vision swam until he saw the source of the horror. He watched with anguish as Frodo batted his hands in front of his face at things not truly there but entirely vivid and real to him. The Elf lord’s grief increased as his little brother suffered this new assault but his admiration and love and humble awe grew at the same time as Frodo stumbled on despite it all.

Elrond was dismayed that the light from Galadriel’s phial did not penetrate the darkness of the Sammath Naur while it had shown so brilliantly in the black of Torech Ungol, but he knew he shouldn’t have been. He was more distressed that his own attempts to reach his brothers were blunted, as he well knew the dark power of the place.

All powers are subdued here but My fallen child’s. And My own.

Oh, Adar, stay with them now especially. The darkness is so deep.

They will always have My light.

Hope flared up in Elrond’s heart as Frodo’s light grew as bright as that of one who had been on the other side. But a moment later, it was crushed when the power of Sauron overwhelmed the frail vessel in which the light was held. Elrond felt very intimately the violation of Frodo’s fëa. He cried out in his own fëa and out loud, though he did not realize he had, wondering how anyone could bear such torment.

When Frodo’s spoke in a voice that was not his and said such terrible words, “I have come. But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!” Elrond lived over again the nightmare of Isildur’s failure.

NO!!

He watched in agony as Frodo disappeared, claimed by the Ring. A terror and a grief he had never known before in his millennia of life, not even when he had actually stood with Isildur where his fëa stood now, overwhelmed him. Why hadn’t he been strong enough then to prevent now another who was dear to him from suffering and failing because Isildur had failed, because he had failed?

Where are you, Adar?! He is lost. Elrond’s voice seemed to echo back through the last age as he had asked the same thing then.

I am with him, My child, came the same response.

How can You be? If You are, why then has he failed? I thought he...You...

Did I not tell you that the burden would be too much for him in the end? No created being could withstand that power forever. You knew that. He knew that. Olórin, Galadriel, Faramir, all My children realized it. Indeed they hardly dared to hope that Iorhael would even make it this far. But he is endurance beyond hope, beyond all but Panthael’s.

Tears coursed down Elrond’s cheeks of which he was barely aware, tears of mirrored failures now pummeling him twice as hard. I thought...I tried so hard to trust You, Adar, that everything would be all right, but it is not.

It is as it was always to be, My child. Your brother has shown great strength and in his weakness, I will show My strength. He has not failed. I gave both your brothers the grace to be who I created them to be ‑ Bronwe athan Harthad and Harthad Uluithiad ‑ to help right the wrong of Isildur. They have done that. Your other brother and I will fulfill the rest.

Elrond had not felt so helpless to stop another’s pain since he had watched his wife suffer after Orcs had attacked her and he had been unable to soothe more than the violation of her hroa. How many tears, pleas and prayers to Ilúvatar he had poured out in the silence of the iaun, how much grief and rage that he could only heal her hroa, but was helpless to comfort her fëa which was torn even worse. It had been as though she was bleeding to death in front of him and though his own hands were soaked as he tried to staunch it, he could not.

You knew this would happen, Adar, that he would claim the Ring?

Yes, My child. And he knew it also. He did not wish to, but it grew on him just as My grace grew to counter it. His fëa fed on both.

You know all the errors we will make from all time?

Yes.

How can you bear it?

If there was an answer, Elrond did not hear it over the jubilation of Gollum who danced about with his treasure and in his joy, fell over the edge and tumbled into the Fire. The Ring melted and the Elf-lord felt the loss of it through his own ring. He sighed and only then became aware of the arms around him and sank into that comfort.

“The Quest has been achieved,” he breathed to his sons. He trembled at the cost of it.

He turned his attention back inward, back to his brothers. He listened as Frodo and Sam spoke to each other. He felt Sam’s joy surge through him as the loyal servant beheld his beloved master’s eyes now free of strain and madness. Sam held his brother’s bleeding hand to his breast and mourned that he had nothing with which to comfort it.

Frodo smiled wearily at his beloved guardian. “I am glad you are with me. Here at the end of all things.”

“Yes, I am with you, Master. And you’re with me. And the journey’s finished. But after coming all that way I don’t want to give up yet. It’s not like me, somehow, if you understand.”

“Maybe not, Sam, but it’s like things are in the world. Hopes fail. An end comes. We have only a little time to wait now. We are lost in ruin and downfall, and there is no escape.”

“Well, Master, we could at least go further from this dangerous place here, from this Crack of Doom, if that’s its name. Now couldn’t we? Come, Mr. Frodo, let’s go down the path at any rate!”

“Very well, Sam. If you wish to go, I’ll come.”

Elrond marveled that the younger hobbit’s stubborn optimism and cheer could withstand even the heat, fumes and the hot ash that rained down on them. When they could go no further, they settled onto a small island to await the end. Frodo’s face was beautiful and peaceful.

I am glad they are together, Adar. That is the way it should be for two quitin fëar. But still it is bitter. Why does it have to end this way?

It is not the end, My child. Has not anything you have seen and heard yet brought you to believe that Panthael’s heart is what I have fashioned to be? Hold onto his hope, if you have no more of your own.

Neither Frodo nor Sam understood what was happening when they were suddenly lifted away from the ash, fumes and heat just as they fell together, overwhelmed at last. All they knew was that their clasped hands were being pulled apart even as they feebly tried to hold on. Their hands came apart and it was as though their hearts and souls so closely knit were torn asunder. That was more than they could bear, that at the very end they were going to be separated and die alone. A strong cry went up in their hearts, but only a croak from their lips, the beginning of a name.  They futilely reached again for each other’s hand as the eagles held them tightly but tenderly in their talons and brought them far away from death and destruction.

Elrond wished to add his own embrace for he feared greatly he never would be able to do so in any other way, but he held back. His breath was taken away as he looked upon Frodo’s fëa as gloriously bright and beautiful as any Elf who had been on the other side and he knew now more than ever that it was Ilúvatar’s Light that shone in him, just as it did in the Firstborn. Frodo was closer to that Light now than he had ever been, bathed in it, soothed by it, illuminated by it, but Elrond could see that its reflection within him was flickering, nearly spent.

Is it already too late?

Do you still not trust, My child?

Elrond hung his head. No, Adar.

Learn then from your heartson.

To Aragorn’s inner sight, Frodo and Sam’s fëar were almost too bright to face. As he looked upon them in awe and reverence and gave thanks to the One Who had preserved them, the Elf‑lord knew his foster son had a firmer faith in Ilúvatar at the moment than he did and he was ashamed.

They both watched Frodo look at the shining Gates ahead of him, then at Sam who gazed at him as lovingly as ever.

Please stay, gwador nîn, Aragorn asked gently and lovingly as Frodo’s gaze returned to the Gates. The Shadow has passed. Your Quest has been achieved. You have won. You have my thanks and the thanks of all Middle‑earth.

Sam’s encouragement came to bolster the man’s. It’s all right, Mr. Frodo dear. It’s over now. You’re safe.

Aragorn and Elrond held their breath as Frodo’s fëa turned back to face that of his heart’s brother. The two hobbits regarded each other for a long while, the younger guarding and nurturing the guttering flame of the elder, loving it back from the brink. For that while, the two communicated on a very deep level that needed neither words nor even thoughts that Aragorn or Elrond could detect. Then they heard Frodo’s response and saw his fëa brighten.

Lead me, my Sam. I will go where you go.

Sam’s spirit held out a hand and Frodo grasped it. Aragorn smiled, then withdrew from within.

Frodo took a shuddering breath, then still while holding him close, Aragorn raised a water skin to his friend’s lips, as Gandalf did with Sam. The hobbits coughed and choked and much of the water spilled down their fronts in their haste to drink all they could. 

Aragorn grieved at the mute testimony that their water had been so sorely lacking, but he was careful that there was nothing but a smile and love in his voice. “You don’t have to drink it all at once, tithen gwador. It will not run out.”

Frodo tried to slow down. More then made it down his parched throat and he sighed in relief. His mouth was wiped and then he was laid back down.

Elrond watched as Aragorn removed the Elven cloak and orc rags from the Ring‑bearer and both grieved at how emaciated Frodo’s body was. The man washed away all the ash and dirt, as Mithrandir did with Sam. Fresh, clean cloths were continually brought as the water turned quickly black. Healer and Maia wept at all the cuts, bruises and welts that had been previously hidden. Once the hobbits were carefully dried, they were dressed in loose, overlarge nightshirts, all that could be procured at short notice, but better all the same that nothing constricting was placed upon them.

Elrond’s heart swelled with pride and love as he watched his foster son cleanse the wound on  Frodo’s maimed hand, spread a salve over it before he bound it, and after he had done so, kissed it, so the violence of the act that had caused the injury could be somewhat alleviated by an act of love. The man next cleansed, wrapped and kissed the terrible burn around the Ring-bearer’s neck. He tenderly spread the salve over Frodo and Sam’s blistered feet, bound them and kissed those as well in reverent appreciation. He spread the salve over the hobbits’ chapped lips, then  kissed his dear friends’ hearts in honor of all the sacrifices they had made.

Tears flowed down Elrond’s face, so greatly moved was he to witness such love, and also because he could see more clearly the damage done to Frodo’s fëa than his foster son could, as did Mithrandir, whose weathered cheeks were also wet. The same question came from both to the One who had made them, one speaking from faltering faith, one from strong.

Why such a high cost for this? Why did this one small, beautiful being have to take upon himself all the hurts and hate of the Enemy? Why did You even allow the Ring to be forged if this was the end it would come to, so damaging this fair child of Yours?

The freedom of will is a gift I gave to all My children. Some have abused it and because of that, others have been hurt. But some have used it well and because of that, others have been saved. It was Iorhael’s free choice to accept the burden to save others from the deadly peril it held, to accept My call to remove that peril from the world, if he could do it. The cost was not beyond the price set for it and the reward will be in measure to the sacrifice.

Thy Will be done, came Olórin’s sure answer, but Elrond’s did not come so steadily.

Elrond and Arwen watched the four hobbits as they wandered around the city of Minas Tirith. Sam held his master’s maimed hand in his hand and both Elves saw how tenderly he did so and how firm Frodo’s return clasp was. Pippin held his cousin’s other hand and Merry looked anxiously for his own turn. The Elf lord was well pleased that his doubts had not been founded when he had been against the younger two accompanying the Ring‑bearer. Indeed, they had shown growth beyond what the Elf would have guessed possible, watching one dressed in the livery of the Tower and the other as a Rider of the Mark. Their brave deeds were already well known to all, but it was on Frodo that Elrond focused his inner gaze, seeing deep into that troubled fëa.

“I see the same thing you do, Adar,” Arwen murmured sadly. “Light as bright as any of the Firstborn, but fractured like a cracked mirror. Like Nana was before she left.”

Elrond nodded. “But I think he will fight for his fëa and healing, much as she did.”

“And perhaps lose the battle here, much as she did.” Arwen turned her gaze away and faced her father. “I want to give him my place on the ship, Adar. I know it is not mine to give, but I would plead for him, for none would deserve it more, though it would be a grief to him to have to leave all he has fought so hard to save and those he so loves. But perhaps the grief would be worse to stay. My gem may be able to give him solace as he decides what is best. I remembered how it helped Nana while she lingered here.”

Elrond turned to look at his daughter and his eyes were bright with grief and love. “I agree that it would be better that your place on the ship be not empty. I will still wish it were filled with you, but if he were there instead, it would be an honor and gift indeed to travel with him.”

“I have made my choice, Adar. If another could benefit from it, then it would ease my own heart, for now I will not see you or Nana again and that is a grief to me as well. But I will take the bitter with the sweet, especially if another could gain from it.”

“Then pray for it, iell nin.”

“Will you not pray with me?”

Elrond was silent for a long while and Arwen was patient. His gaze turned back to the city and he looked out from the heights for a long time. The hobbits were now too small and far away to be seen by any other eyes but Elven. “No, I do not think I will. I prayed so long and hard for Iorhael and there has been no granting of my wish for him.”

“He is alive. Has this not been your wish, our wish, all along?”

“He is hurt, iell nin, and that is something I wish need not be. I wish Isildur hadn’t been taken by the same. I wish your nana hadn’t been either. I wish I hadn’t been so weak that I could not heal either of them, that I could not stop what the Enemy did to them both, that I could not even will myself to stop Isildur from leaving with the Ring and so doom another to carry it and another and another.”

“But now all has come to pass as Ilúvatar willed it. The Ring is gone and the Cormacolindor have returned alive from the Fire. Haven’t all your prayers been answered? Why do you doubt now?”

“I had hoped this time it would be different. My faith has been tested again and found wanting. It faltered after Isildur’s failure and my own at the Sammath Naur. And it was nearly destroyed after the many hours I spent in the iaun and everywhere else, begging that your naneth be released from her agony and she was not. She had to leave and I could do nothing to stop the bleeding of her fëa. Now I must watch another suffer as well from similar wounds that are even deeper.”

“But, Adar, each time, your prayers were answered. Isildur’s failure has been redressed. I thought you had come to understand that the failure was not yours, that no will or strength was strong enough to endure that evil place, but that of the One Himself. And you know well that nana has healed. It was beyond your strength, beyond anyone’s, but the One Who gave that healing. You know how long I too prayed and Elladan and Elrohir and Nana herself and our whole household. And our prayers were answered. Continue to pray for the one who needs it now the most, besides yourself.”

“I do not need prayers, iell nin.”

Arwen smiled. “I will pray for you nonetheless.”

The Queen left her father upon the battlements of the great fortress and sought a greater one, where the Men of old had once prayed and would do so again. It did not have the walls that Minas Tirith had, but it was filled with a still greater strength. Arwen raised her eyes to the sky. Evening was upon the land. The shadows were lengthening, but it was a glad thing to see now for it meant the sun still shone. The cloudless sky also meant that the stars would be bright. She turned her gaze to where the brightest would be, that had been all but obscured during the last days of the War.

“My Adar, my Lord Manwë, My Lady Elbereth, My Lady Esté, My Lady Nienna,” the Queen began softly, kneeling on the ground and looking into the darkening sky. “I beg that my seat on the ship going home be given to one of mortal‑kind who is truly worthy of it and I fear will sorely need it by the end. I beg that it may be his choice to take it or not, but that the choice be put before him with your blessing. Such a gift I would not plead for, if not for the need of it for one so small and so great. Adar, he has made such sacrifices and done such good for You. Heed my prayer, I beg You. My Lord Manwë, breathe your blessing upon my prayer said upon the wind and speed it along. My Lady Elbereth, light Iorhael’s way so he always has a path to follow through the darkness. My Lady Esté and Nienna, hold him close to you, so he knows solace and relief and healing from his ills. Please, please, help him, just as you helped Nana, when she was torn. And please, Adar, I beg, help my Adar, strengthen him and let him know his prayers and faith have not been in vain. And, Nana, please help Iorhael when he comes.”

Over and over Arwen quietly plead her case as the stars began to come out. When the brightest shone upon her, she felt in her heart her grandmother’s prayers as well.

It was not many days after that Mithrandir came to her. The wizard came and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Your prayers have been heard, and it is the will of the One and the Valar that the boon you pled for be answered.”

Arwen deeply bowed in grateful acknowledgment. She sought out the hallowed ground once more and made her prayers of thanksgiving.

“Le hannon,” the Queen whispered and prayed still more. It was long after dark that she rose from her knees. But when she did, she saw her father there.

“I have prayed for him and for you, Adar. And I have received my answer.”

“A gift I will give you,” she said. “For I am the daughter of Elrond. I shall not go with him now when he departs to the Havens; for mine is the choice of Lúthien, and as she so have I chosen, both the sweet and the bitter. But in my stead you shall go, Ring‑bearer, when the time comes, and if you then desire it. If your hurts grieve you still and the memory of your burden is heavy, then you may pass into the West, until all your wounds and weariness are healed. But wear this now in memory of Elfstone and Evenstar with whom your life has been woven!”

And she took a white gem like a star that lay upon her breast hanging upon a silver chain, and she set the chain around Frodo’s neck. “When the memory of the fear and the darkness troubles you,” she said, “this will bring you aid.”

Frodo bowed. “My lady,” he breathed in awe at such a gift.

Arwen watched him leave. He would have to make a choice, like she had, like her mother had, like Lúthien had, and she feared that as it had been for her nana, it would be only through the very bitter that would he reach the sweet.

Please, Adar, give him the strength to make the right choice, she prayed.

I shall, My child.

When Frodo returned to Sam and his cousins, they saw the chain and he showed them the queen’s gift, but as to her other gift, he spoke not a word.

All the way to Rivendell, Elrond watched over Frodo and saw that at times his hand reached out to touch the gem, though sometimes he stopped short and his features spasmed as though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was reaching for. But each time he completed the action and clasped the gem, his features relaxed and his light flared a bit brighter. Elrond was sure Sam noticed it as he knew that small guardian could see into his master’s fëa as well as any of the Firstborn and better, he suspected, than Frodo himself could.

It was shortly before they left that Elrond chanced to hear Frodo and Sam talking one evening.

“Well, Mr. Frodo, we’ve been far and seen a deal, and yet I don’t think we’ve found a better place than this. There’s something of everything here, if you understand me: the Shire and the Golden Wood and Gondor and kings’ houses and inns and meadows and mountains all mixed.”

“Yes, something of everything, Sam, except the Sea,” Frodo answered.

Elrond heard the longing and the pain in that voice. The painful decision had not yet been made, but it was growing in his heart. He turned his thought to the One who created them both.

Why are You asking him to make another sacrifice? He has already given You everything. There is nothing left inside of him and yet You still ask for more.

I ask so I can give him everything he has given Me. Still it is his choice whether to embrace this journey, just as it was his choice at the Council I called.

He will say yes. He will not deny You. But it is a bitter choice.

And the other one was not? He is empty now, but he will be filled again.

He should not be parted from his kin, especially not from the fëa that is knit to his more closely than any other.

He will not be.

Could he not stay? I will be coming to a home prepared for me, but he will be leaving one.

A home long prepared awaits him there also, but still it is his choice whether to come to it or not.

Elrond remembered a similar conversation he had had when he begged that his wife be healed, that they not be parted. But parted they had been and his faith that he had thought so strong wavered and foundered upon the sharp rocks of his grief and rage and helplessness, just as it had when Isildur had failed him and he had failed Isildur. He knew or feared in his heart that Frodo would make the same choice as Celebrían, know the same desperation that had driven her West, the same terrible pain neither he nor anyone could do anything to soothe. All his prayers had seemed to be in vain, but she had prayed differently, and her prayers had been answered, and in time, he understood that his had been also and in the same manner as hers. So though he feared for Frodo, he also hoped his little brother would make the same choice. He remembered well the desolation he had felt when he had stood at the Grey Havens and watched her ship leave, but also the joy that had filled him, tentatively at first as she began to heal and then more fully as each new step was taken until she shone in his mind brighter than she ever had. As he watched the four hobbits that were so closely knit together, the Elf lord knew he would feel all those things again in his own heart as his little brothers felt them.

Yes, all of them, My child. Remember that. I have given Iorhael the grace of the Firstborn, but the mortality of the Second for I want him closer to Me, though that too will be his choice.

He will be drawn. You have molded his heart by Your hand and he will not resist that.

So has your heart been, My child. Why do you resist now?

Because he has been hurt. I thought from all that You had said, it would be different this time.

Elrond knew well the agony he felt in the hearts of his little brothers as they said goodbye to their beloved ones. He had stood where they did now, when five hundred years before he had embraced half of his own heart and soul in farewell and had not known when he would see her again. He hadn’t wanted to let go, but he couldn’t have not let go either. He couldn’t have done any differently than what the four hobbits were now doing. Frodo’s light was just as shattered as Celebrian’s had been and they all knew that this terrible parting was a necessary one.

Bilbo made his own goodbyes and then watched the others with a sorrowful face. He looked most at Frodo and then at Sam. At least he had the hope that the sons of his heart would be reunited. Sam’s tear‑filled eyes looked up at Bilbo after he had let his beloved master go and Elrond could almost hear the wish and promise that passed between them. Look after him, until I can come to do it again. As Bilbo smiled and nodded, Sam let go a held breath as a little peace stilled some of the turbulence in his heart and soul. Elrond was glad that the little gardener’s light shone a bit brighter because of it. That dear one’s light was almost as bright as Frodo’s but now almost as dimmed as though each depended on the other for his own as the moon depended on the sun.

They have ever been each other’s light, living Silmarilli for one another and for all created lands and people. And they will continue to be.

Not now. They are lost in darkness.

It is in the darkness that the light shines best. Do not fear for them, My child. This will not separate them. Even in the dark, they will find each other.

Elrond had no answer. He had wandered long in his own darkness after his beloved had left and long it was before light had returned to him, before he found her and held her again. Still she was always a dim light ahead of him, that he had followed. The only way out of his own darkness was to pursue her through hers and ahead of them both had been a brighter light. Her feet had always been on that path, finding her own way out. He had followed, but for long, he had not believed or trusted enough that the darkness would end. If it had not been for her light and the Light ahead of her, he would have wandered forever lost in the black.

Elrond watched as Frodo and Bilbo boarded the ship, Frodo walking alongside Bilbo’s pony while Gandalf guided the pony of the younger Ring‑bearer. Frodo’s head was bowed. His maimed hand rested in Bilbo’s. Elrond followed with the Lady Galadriel and other fair folk. When they were all boarded, the scarred hobbit turned to his beloved brothers and watched them as they watched him. They were all crying, but had such tremendous love in their eyes and hearts, that Elrond’s own heart clenched at the beauty and sorrow of it.

He now has his lights to guide him in the dark and I will be there also.

Elrond didn’t answer. The scene was too much like it had been when Celebrían had left. The Elf-lord saw in Sam’s eyes and broken heart the same hope that he had himself had tried so hard to grasp during and after that grief-filled parting so long ago. He saw in fact that Sam’s was stronger than his had been, but what could Merry and Pippin hope for? He knew the grief they did in a way he had never wanted to or thought he would, for he knew he would not see his daughter again, just as they wouldn’t see their cousin.

This is not the end, My child. You know well that love does not end simply because the beloved is no longer at your side.

It is still a bitter sorrow to endure.

It shall be endured and the sweetness of love will be rediscovered as you rediscovered yourself and will rediscover once more.

Frodo held aloft the phial of Galadriel which grew bright in his hand and the hobbits watched that light until it was swallowed by the ever‑growing distance. And then they watched some more.

* * *

It was raining the night before they arrived in the West. Frodo had spent part of the time on the deck, not caring whether he was soaked. The rain hid his tears and there were many still to be washed away. Elrond watched him silently as he stood with him.

“I used to sleep outside in the summer and stare up at the stars and dream of going on adventures,” Frodo said softly. “Sometimes Sam would be with me or Merry and Pippin. Sometimes Bilbo came. When will I be able to do that again?”

For the first time since the Fire, Elrond found himself wanting to trust in Ilúvatar again, needing to find meaning in the meaningless. He reached out almost as desperately as he had during those long nights as he watched his wife suffer and was helpless to stop it and all the while the Why?!, Why?!, Why?! echoing through his head.

“You will be able to do it here, Iorhael. And one day even with Panthel.”

“But not with Merry or Pippin. And probably not even with Bilbo. I don’t know if I chose right.”

The Elf lord took Frodo’s maimed hand gently in his own and felt the hobbit’s fingers wrap around his. “You chose right, Iorhael. You made the only choice that could be made for one hurt as you are. My wife made the same decision when she was similarly wounded. The One Who made you would not have allowed such a pain without already having a remedy for it. Be at peace with your decision, tithen min. There is not a moment you are not being held tight.”

The troubled hobbit looked up at him. “Who do you mean?”

“One of the reasons you were brought here was so you could discover that. You have long felt His Presence, even if you didn’t know it.”

“I have felt something at times. First I associated it with my parents, then with Bilbo, then with Merry and Pippin and especially with Sam. But there’s someone else, like I heard at the Council?”

“Yes. He manifested Himself most times to you through the love expressed by those most dear to you.”

Frodo sighed. He went back in, dried his hair and got into a dry nightshirt, then curled up against Bilbo. He tried hard to believe what Elrond said as the Elf-lord himself tried to do.

* * *

It was during one of Frodo’s early explorations of his new home that he had found the iaun. The darkness of the room appealed to him for here was another place in which he could hide his tears. He and Bilbo had settled along the shore and it wasn’t long before the very air of the place had invigorated the ancient hobbit enough that he wanted to go on a “proper walking party” and insisted that Frodo join him. The younger Ring‑bearer took longer to accommodate himself to his new surroundings, but the Tookish part of him was roused enough that he often went tramping around with his uncle or sometimes on his own. He was alone the day he found the iaun.

Or at least he was alone until he entered the room. He sensed a warmth and a Presence that he had always felt, but dimly and not understood. His gaze was drawn to the red light that hung from the ceiling in the front center of the room, giving off the only illumination.

Welcome, My child, came a Voice in his head and it sounded like all the voices he had ever heard that had ever spoken words of love to him. That Love wrapped around him like a warm cloak.

Who are you, my lord? Frodo asked for the Presence seemed to him to be of very great majesty, even greater than any of the Elves he had known.

I am your Father and your father’s Father and your mother’s and the Father of all.

Frodo bowed deeply, though he didn’t quite understand the whole meaning behind the words. “Frodo Baggins at your service,” he said.

The troubled hobbit felt the warmth spread inside him, like the largest smile he had ever seen, even more powerfully than he had always felt when his parents, Bilbo, his cousins or his Sam had smiled at him. You have served me very well, My beloved child.

You were at the Council.

Yes. And every other moment of your life.

Then you know I failed at the end. How can you still love me?

I have loved you, My dear one, since before time began. I formed you from My own heart as I have all My children. How can I not love you?

Because of what happened, because I claimed that terrible thing, because I want it still.

Do you think you should have been able to withstand something no one could?

Yes.

So you did, as I created you to do, until your task was complete, but the power that had made that thing was beyond any child of Mine to withstand forever. Do not blame yourself. You did not fail Me.

But I didn’t complete the Quest. I failed myself, I failed Gandalf and Sam and the Council, all of Middle‑earth. I failed you.

My beloved, stubborn child, and again Frodo felt the smile and Love increase in him, you accepted a task to rectify failures of others of My children. It was beyond the hope of any to accomplish, but still you did accomplish it because it was not beyond My strength, even if you feared it was beyond yours.

It was beyond mine. What little I did was because of Sam, because of Sméagol.

It was also your own will and Mine that got you there. The others supplemented it or became it when you could not supply it yourself, but you were not wrongly named, Bronwe athan Harthad. You endured beyond anyone’s hope and fear, anyone’s but Panthel’s and Mine.

Who are you, lord? Frodo asked again.

I am the One Who fashioned you and knit you together in your mother’s womb, Who watched you quicken inside her and give your first kicks. I watched your birth as you took your first breath and gave your first cry. I was there to see your first smile and laugh and step and word. I was there to watch you grow, when you learned to read in your and My Bilbo’s lap, when you wrote your first story and every story after that, when you marveled at the world around you. I was there when you presented your first flower to your mum and when you took her and your da by the hand and tugged them into your next adventure. I was there when you giggled as they tickled you and you rode on your da’s shoulders and danced at the Free Fair. I was there when they tucked you in each night, as they sang to you, hugged and kissed you goodnight and told you how much they loved you and you hugged and kissed them and told them that you loved them even more. Each night you had that competition. How they loved to hear you giggle and how I loved it too. I was there with them when they died and with you when you found out and every moment you grieved and cried. Even if no one else saw your tears, I saw them and every visit you made to their graves, placing flowers there and telling them how much you missed them and loved them and wished they were with you. I was with you when your and My Merry was born and you smiled for the first time in two years. I was with you when you laughed again. And when you stole mushrooms. I was with you when you met your and My Sam. I was with you when Bilbo left and no one else saw your tears. I was with you when you left with the Ring and when you were left without it. I know all about you, my beloved one.

Frodo was confused and had actually colored when the thieving of the mushrooms was mentioned, but he also felt nothing but love from the Voice. His Tookish curiosity was roused that someone he had never known could know all about him, even things no one else knew.

Are you a wizard then? You don’t sound like an Elf.

There was a bright sound in Frodo’s mind and heart like a hearty laugh, almost like Gandalf’s, but deeper and richer, as though all the laughs he had ever heard had been rolled into one.

I am the Creator of wizards and Elves, but no, My child, I am not one Myself.

Are you older than Gandalf?

There was amusement in that Voice like he remembered in his parents’ and Gandalf’s and Bilbo’s when in years before, his curiosity about the world had been overwhelming and his questions endless. He remembered it in his own voice as he answered Pippin’s questions which had been even more endless. Yes, far, far older.

Older than Treebeard or Tom?

The smile increased. Yes.

Who was your father?

I am Creator, My own, not created. I am the uncreated Light from which your light and the light of all My children spring.

Frodo sighed. I feel very dark and empty.

I know. I will fill you again. But I will need your help. Will you give it to me?

Yes, my lord.

* * *

Frodo spent many hours in the iaun, learning how to heal from all the damage done to him. It was exhausting work and sometimes he even slept there, curled up on one of the benches. It soothed him to be there more than any other place on the island and he spend much time in silent conversation with the One there and, as he found out, everywhere. Many tears he shed there and he felt them wiped away.                      

Celebrían was in the room one day when he came. He stood at the entrance and her breath was taken away by the brilliance of his light and incredible beauty. Her heart broke at how fractured that light was, like a mirror that had been broken, a mirror that she knew reflected her own fëa when she had come here seeking the same thing he was. She had noticed the two periain when they had come off the boat in the company of her husband and so many others. She had noticed his beauty then, but not so much his light in the bright morning. It shone now in the

darkness almost as brightly as that of one of her own kind.

He hesitated on the threshold and almost turned away, but she called out to him softly. “Please stay.”

He came and sat down by her side and he felt the Love around him increase.

* * *

After these two kindred fëar met, Frodo continued along his Road, now guided by one who had walked the same path already. To Celebrían, Frodo was like a bird whose wings had been broken. It was the same way she had felt after she had been attacked and when she longed to have wings like her husband’s mother did and fly beyond the torment that engulfed her. It was here that her fëa had learned to fly again and it was under her tutelage and that of the One Who had made them both, that Frodo took his first little hops on the ground, then his first hesitant flutters into the air, flying a few feet before floundering again.

Elrond watched his progress as well. To him, Frodo was a flower that had nearly been beaten down, but was leaning into the Sun and growing again in the rich soil of the West. Slowly his trust was rebuilt that his little brother was truly in the best hands he could be. He began to pray again and find his own healing.

Bilbo watched as well. The ancient hobbit smiled and steadied the beloved son of his heart as he gathered the strength and heart to fly again. It was an uneven progress, but it was steady. Further and further did Frodo learn to fly as he slowly broke the fetters of his pain. Sometimes he and Bilbo even flew together for short distances as both needed healing. Those times, they flew farther than either could have on his own, as though to encourage and challenge each other. It was after those times that Frodo’s smiles were the brightest. It was a struggle though, not always easy and at times very frustrating. Tears of effort and continued pain tracked down the younger Ring‑bearer’s cheeks or followed him into sleep, but always he went on. He told himself that Bilbo needed to see him healed. He also needed to do it for Sam who had always been there for him. Sometimes he thought he still felt his brother by his side, encouraging and loving and comforting.

You are doing very well, My child, came Ilúvatar’s Voice as Frodo lay in bed.

Was it you I always felt when my parents or my Sam or Merry or Pippin looked at me, or Gandalf or Aragorn or Faramir or the Lady?

Yes, My own. My Love shone through their love for they are all reflections of Me.

Sam was the best.

So I made him to be.

Because you knew all this would happen?

Yes. I wanted to be near you.

Thank you, my lord.

Elrond was praying the same words at the same time in the iaun. Celebrían noted the tear in her husband’s fëa healing and closing at the same rate as Frodo’s and smiled at the progress both were making. Her own crisis had drawn her closer to Ilúvatar, had strengthened her already strong faith and made her realize how much she needed Him, though she knew at the same time, it had threatened to destroy her husband’s belief. How many days and nights she had spent in prayer to Him for release, for succor, for strength and had prayed also for him. At times Frodo cried in her arms, just as she had in Elrond’s, and she held him as she had been held, had murmured some of the same words, and had said some of the same prayers.

* * *