THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

For an explanation as to why Aragorn is known in this series as “Estel”, and uses the nickname “little one” for Frodo, please refer to “Quarantined” chapter 11.

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 16, “Reflections of the Past” chapters 2 and 6, and “When the King Comes Back” chapter 14.

DISCLAIMER: Professor Tolkien’s wonderful characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.
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Chapter 1: An Elven Encounter

“They are fair and gallant as Elven-lords; and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell.” ‘The Passing of the Grey Company’, The Return of the King

Aragorn awoke to the familiar sound of Arthad cropping grass nearby, and a less familiar rustling very close to him. He tensed, then opened his eyes to behold three pairs of eyes watching him closely. As he moved slightly, two of the creatures scurried backwards, while the third – bigger than the others but still tiny, as dogs are measured – dashed forward and began to lick his face rather enthusiastically.

“Did they wake you, Mr. Estel? I’m sorry, sir, but we didn’t expect to find you sleepin’ here.” Sam patted Arthad, standing next to a horse he didn’t recognize. A long bow and an elaborately-decorated quiver full of arrows lay on the grass near Aragorn’s pack.

“No need to apologize, Sam,” Aragorn said, sitting up. “I had not planned to be sleeping here. Bilbo and Frodo do not expect me, and we arrived too late last night to feel comfortable knocking on their door.” He gave Sam a hug. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” Sam grinned, wondering who else was with the Ranger. He looked around, but saw no one. “We’ve got some new piglets, and the fruit trees are fairly burstin’. We’re hard-pressed to keep up with all the plums and peaches.”

Patch and Blossom had slowly approached again, and now felt brave enough to inspect Aragorn’s bootlaces, twin tails wagging in excitement.

“They have have grown a bit, I see,” Aragorn smiled.

Sam whistled, and the pups came obediently to his side. “They probably don’t remember you, Mr. Estel,” he laughed, “but they surely enjoyed your gift! It was awfully nice of you to remember ’em.”

“It was a pleasure to be part of their adoption, even though I could not be here myself.” Aragorn shook out his bedroll. “I see that you have them very well trained.”

“Had to,” Sam said proudly. “I promised my Gaffer they wouldn’t be diggin’ up the gardens or gettin’ into too much mischief, and I’d never go back on a promise.”

“I cannot imagine that you would.” Aragorn suddenly peered at the boy curiously. “Why are you out here with Scamp, Sam? Are Frodo and Bilbo away?”

“No sir, they’re home right enough. It’s just that Mr. Bilbo’s been sick, and Mr. Frodo’s plumb worn out from lookin’ after him. Not that he minds, just the opposite, but he hasn’t got much rest, so I brought Scamp out with the pups this mornin’ to let ’em both sleep.”

Aragorn looked concerned. “How ill is Bilbo?”

“Oh, he’s much better,” Sam assured him. “It was just a bad cold, Mistress Brownlock said. She says he’ll be right as rain in a few more days.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Aragorn said. “I am quite fond of Bilbo, and I know Frodo must worry when he’s ill.”

“He has,” Sam nodded. “He thinks the world of Mr. Bilbo.” He eyed the beautiful chestnut-colored stallion. “Whose horse is this, sir?”

“You may come down,” Aragorn called out unexpectedly, looking up into the enormous tree under which they were standing. “Slowly, my brother. Do not startle my young friend.”

The leaves shook very gently, then a pair of long legs emerged from the upper branches. A slender form jumped lightly to the ground, and stood before Sam.

“Samwise Gamgee, this is Elladan,” Aragorn said. Sam was staring so hard, the boy’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. “It is all right, Sam; he won’t bite.”

An Elf! Sam thought in utter amazement. Right here in front of me!

“I am pleased to meet you,” Elladan said, bowing slightly.

“A. . . at your service,” Sam stuttered, bowing in turn. The Elf seemed to him as tall as a young tree. His voice was soft, and his eyes were the same clear grey as the Ranger’s. Unable to stop himself, he reached up and shyly took Elladan’s hand. “Are you an Elf, sir?”

“I am,” Elladan said. He knelt and smiled at the hobbit.

“Why did Mr. Estel call you ‘my brother’?”

Elladan hesitated, unsure how to answer the lad’s frank question. He knew that Aragorn had shared with Bilbo Baggins a great deal of information about his true identity, and that Bilbo’s ward, Frodo, knew somewhat less; however, there was much about his foster-brother that should remain hidden from everyone else.

“I grew up around Elves, Sam,” Aragorn said simply. “I have always considered Elladan as a brother.”

“A real Elf,” Sam whispered. He suddenly released Elladan’s hand, his eartips reddening in embarrassment as he realized his boldness.

“Will you introduce me to your pups?” Elladan asked, trying to distract the lad from his curiosity about Aragorn.

With a huge smile, Sam reached down to pet the twins.

“This is Patch, and this one’s Blossom,” he said proudly. “Scamp, over there, is their ma. She belongs to Mr. Frodo.”

“Ah, I have heard much about the clever and courageous Scamp,” Elladan said. He watched as Arthad greeted Scamp, touching his friend with her nose. His own mount, Romaryn, peered curiously down at the tiny creature. Elladan pulled some strips of dried venison from a pouch at his waist and lay them on the ground, drawing all three of the dogs over to investigate.

“Sam, is it too early for us to go up to Bag End?” Aragorn asked. “There is something I wish to discuss with Frodo.”

Tearing his eyes away from Elladan’s face with difficulty, Sam looked up the Hill and shook his head.

“The kitchen chimney’s smokin’, so Mr. Frodo’s no doubt gettin’ breakfast ready,” Sam said. “You go on up; they’ll be happy to see you. You can take Scamp, if that’s all right. I should head home and get to the rest of my chores.”

“Of course it is all right,” Aragorn smiled. He picked up his pack, and Elladan lifted his bow and quiver from the ground.

“Fare well, Samwise,” Elladan said softly.

“And. . . and you, sir,” Sam stammered. A real Elf. Still somewhat dazed, he watched the Ranger and the Elf stride up the lane towards Bag End, Scamp frisking at their heels.

*~*~*~*~*

“Estel!”

The look on the halfling’s face was that of utter joy, and Elladan was pleased to see Aragorn greeted so warmly. The blue-eyed youngster who opened the door flung himself into Aragorn’s waiting arms, and his foster-brother’s face shone with the same happiness as the child. This boy was taller than the lad they had met earlier, with darker hair and more delicate features.

“I am happy to see you,” Aragorn said, laughing at the exuberance of the hug. “I would like to introduce you to someone. Frodo, this is--”

Frodo gasped, stepping back from where Aragorn knelt in front of him. He looked up at Elladan in embarrassment.

“Please forgive me, sir. Frodo Baggins, at your service and your family’s.”

“I am honored,” Elladan said, kneeling next to Aragorn. “I am Elladan of Rivendell. And I believe you have already been of great service to my family, Frodo Baggins; Estel is my kin.”

“Truly?” Frodo asked curiously, then frowned suddenly. “El... adan? ‘Elf man’?”

“Indeed,” Elladan nodded. “You know Sindarin, Frodo?”

“Just a bit,” Frodo said, blushing. “Bilbo taught me a little, and I have Estel’s copy book.”

“Yes, I heard that he gifted you with that,” Elladan said. He is known to them as Estel; I will enjoy using that name once more. “Estel worked many long months copying each word, and greatly valued that book.”

Not as greatly as I value the one to whom I gifted it, Aragorn thought, gazing fondly at Frodo.

“I can see that I am not the first Elf you have met,” Elladan continued, intrigued with this young one. Whereas Samwise had looked at him with wonder and disbelief, Frodo’s gaze was more that of delight and great interest.

“No,” Frodo replied. “Estel brought an Elf named Arminas for a visit, just after we adopted Scamp; his dwelling is to the west, beyond the Tower Hills.”

“You brought Arminas to the Shire?” Elladan asked Aragorn. “Why?”

“With Bilbo and Frodo’s permission, I will show you something later that will explain it,” Aragorn told him. “Bag End conceals something quite unique.”

“I’m so glad to see you, Estel,” Frodo said fervently. “Did Bilbo know you were coming?”

“No,” Aragorn said. “When I received your letter, I was anxious to speak with you as soon as possible. I met Elladan on the road near Bree, and he wished to accompany me.”

“My letter?” Frodo asked, puzzled. “The last one I sent you?”

“Yes.” Aragorn looked closely at the boy’s face, gently brushing a bit of flour off his nose. “You look tired, little one,” he said softly.

“I am,” Frodo admitted. “Bilbo’s been sick.”

“We met Sam in the field where we left the horses, and he told us about it. I’m sure you’ve helped care for Bilbo very well,” Aragorn said. “Tell me--”

“Oh, you must think I have no manners at all,” Frodo cried out suddenly. “Here you are, both still standing – well, kneeling – on the doorstep, when you could be inside, washing up and having a good breakfast.”

“You always think I need washing up,” Aragorn chuckled. He got to his feet, as did Elladan.

“And I’m always right,” Frodo grinned. “Please come in, both of you. Bilbo will be so delighted.”

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 17 and 20, “Reflections of the Past” chapter 6, and “When the King Comes Back” chapters 1 and 13.

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Invitation

Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars, not if you care for such things. ‘A Short Rest’, The Hobbit

“Watch your head,” Frodo warned Elladan.

Elladan looked around curiously as Frodo led them through the front hall and past the parlor. The ceiling of the hobbits’ dwelling might be lower than he was used to, but the spaciousness of the rooms impressed him. The interior was sumptuously furnished, with many open windows allowing the morning air to waft through the rooms. This home was much larger on the inside than he had expected, even though Aragorn had told him a great deal about it... and about its inhabitants. He was particularly intrigued by the chairs scattered about – there were more than a few large enough for Men or Elves to find quite comfortable.

“I need to finish making breakfast,” Frodo said. “There should be plenty, I’ll just...” He gasped in surprise as they entered the kitchen. “Bilbo, what are you doing out of bed?”

“No need for alarm,” Bilbo grinned as he turned away from the stove. His deep red dressing gown was covered with an apron. Bilbo’s hair was mussed and his nose was a bit red, but his eyes sparkled with pleasure. “I peeked outside and saw you speaking with our guests, and couldn’t bear to be idle another moment. It’s wonderful to see you again, Estel.”

“Hello, Bilbo.” Aragorn bent down to embrace his friend. “You have been ill, I hear.”

“Humiliating,” Bilbo grumbled. “Laid low by a summer cold. Just a few sniffles now, thanks to my attentive lad insisting that I rest and do everything the healer advised.” He turned to Elladan and bowed. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

“I am happy to meet you at last, Bilbo Baggins,” Elladan bowed in turn. “My father and Estel have told me much about you. I am Elladan; Lord Elrond is my father.”

Bilbo examined Elladan’s face with great interest. He seemed quite young, but of course with Elves it was difficult to tell. The grey eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity, but also seemed sad, as if conveying a lifetime of grief or hardship.

“How is your father?” Bilbo asked him. “I often dream of Rivendell.”

“He is well, thank you,” Elladan smiled.

“Bilbo,” Frodo said firmly, “it’s time for breakfast, and I want you to drink more of the tea Cousin Gilly left. I’d feel better if you got off your feet; I’ll bring the food out in a few minutes.”

Bilbo chuckled, then obediently untied the apron and handed it to Frodo.  He knew that his lad didn’t get many chances to look after him, and always felt wonderful when he could do so.

“Estel, why don’t you show Elladan the washroom, and where the bedrooms are,” Bilbo said.  “You can put your things away, then join us in the dining room.”

By the time Frodo brought the hotcakes, sausages, and fried potatoes to the table, he found that four places had been set, and that Bilbo, Estel, and Elladan were deep in conversation – in Sindarin. The words were flying back and forth so quickly, he only recognized one – his own name.

“Forgive us, my lad,” Bilbo said, seeing Frodo’s distressed expression. “It’s not very polite of us to speak in a language you’re just learning.”

“That’s not it,” Frodo said, setting down the large platter. “I’m happy you have someone to speak Elvish with. I just don’t want you to strain your voice; your throat was so sore a few days ago.” He waved off Aragorn and Elladan’s offer to help, and scurried back to the kitchen to fetch tea and the honey pot, then to the cold cellar for a jug of cream.

During breakfast, Frodo did his best to hold back from blurting out most of the dozens of things he longed to ask Estel and Elladan; however, one question was uppermost in his mind.

“Estel,” Frodo said at last, passing around a dish of sliced apricots and peaches, “what did you mean earlier, when you said you were anxious to speak with me after you got my last letter?”

In answer, Aragorn reached into a pocket of his tunic and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he handed to Frodo.

Frodo scanned it quickly, and looked up, puzzled.

Aragorn pointed to a paragraph. “Why don’t you read that part out loud.”

“And Estel,” Frodo read, “I had the strangest dream last night. Remember when Halbarad visited the ruined city, and met with the Dwarves? I dreamed I was there. I was walking about, amongst big rocks and pieces of buildings. I don’t remember much else, except that under a bowl there was a secret door behind a star, and I wondered if I was about to find hidden treasure just as Bilbo had. Then Scamp woke me, the silly rascal. Speaking of Scamp, we’re still trying to teach her to fetch Bilbo’s slippers without her wanting to--”

“That’s enough,” Aragorn said.

Scamp, laying at Frodo’s feet, looked up alertly at the sound of her name, then returned to chewing on her prize – the longest of the strips of dried meat Elladan had offered the pups.

“What is this all about?” Frodo asked.

“When we were camping at Bindbale Pond, just after we were ill, you told me about a dream you had. It was about a human woman and some children, and their strange-looking homes.”

“I remember,” Frodo nodded.

“The woman is my mother, Frodo. You described her, and the village in which she lives, perfectly. I recognized some of the children in your dream, as well.”

Frodo stared at Aragorn in amazement. “You believe my dreams are sometimes true?”

“Frodo,” Elladan said, “did Halbarad tell you there were carvings of stars in the ruins?” Frodo shook his head. “The city of Annúminas, abandoned now for thousands of years, was laid out in a star pattern, in memory of the shape of the island from which the Men who founded it had come... as well as for other reasons. Many depictions of stars can still be seen, thousands of years after the city was abandoned.”

“Then you think there really is some kind of secret door in the ruined city? Behind a star?” Frodo looked confused. “What about the bowl?”

“Who can say?” Aragorn mused. “Whatever your dream did or did not mean, when I received your letter it reminded me that the Dwarves will soon be mining in the hills near the lake. I have only been there a few times; if there was indeed something hidden and left behind when the city was abandoned, I would like to find it before the chance may be lost forever.” He gazed at Frodo. “Do you remember anything more of your dream? Any landmarks?”

Frodo, still reeling from what Aragorn and Elladan had said, closed his eyes for a minute, then shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “It was just... a dream, with everything jumping around as dreams usually do.” He frowned. “Perhaps if I went there someday, I might remember more, or recognize something. If it was real, and not just a dream, of course.”

“Why wait for ‘someday’?” Aragorn smiled. “Would you like to come with Elladan and me to the ruins, and find out for yourself?”

“I would love to!” Frodo cried, his eyes shining. “Oh, but...” He sighed, remembering that he was just a tween, and not yet able to come and go as he might like. Could he convince Bilbo to let him go?

Bilbo had been sitting quietly, watching Frodo closely. The boy’s eyes had faint shadows of weariness under them; he knew how worried Frodo had been about him over these past weeks, and how little rest he had allowed himself. Bilbo’s thoughts flew back to his brief sojourn in Rivendell all those years ago, and how deeply peaceful he felt there -- especially when the Elves sang, and time seemed to flow like gentle water in a stream. He had never felt so rested or refreshed before or since, and longed to someday return to that hidden valley for a very long stay. Traveling with one of Lord Elrond’s sons might convey some of this peace to his lad, especially if...

“Do you sing, Elladan?” Bilbo asked suddenly.

“I do,” Elladan replied. “Why do you ask?”

“While you journey together, I think Frodo will enjoy hearing the songs of your folk as much as I did, many years ago in your father’s halls.”

“While we journey together?” Frodo gasped. “Do you mean I may go with them?”

“What do you think we were discussing so intently when you were bringing in breakfast?” Bilbo’s eyes twinkled. “Estel asked my permission for you to accompany them.”

“Oh Bilbo, how wonderful. But...” Frodo’s smile quickly faded as he looked at Aragorn. “What if I can’t remember anything else, or it really was just a dream? You’ll have wasted your time, and will have to bring me all the way back home again.”

“Frodo,” Aragorn assured him, “finding nothing would hardly be a waste of time. We would enjoy your company, whatever the outcome. Truthfully, I doubt we will find anything other than rocks and hills, and perhaps some peaceful fishing.”

“Bilbo, may I really go?” Frodo asked. “Will you be all right?”

“My dear boy,” Bilbo said. “Go, with my blessing. The Gamgees will take almost as good care of me as you do.”

Frodo whooped with joy, and Bilbo’s smile was as bright as the sun.

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 11 and 17, “Reflections of the Past” chapter 5, “Force of Nature” chapters 1 and 3, and “Estel’s Birthday” chapters 5 and 7.

Many thanks to my Livejournal friends for advice regarding horses and riding distances.

Chapter 3:  An Enduring Hope

Arwen, daughter of Elrond, in whom it was said that the likeness of Lúthien had come on earth again.  ‘Many Meetings’,  The Fellowship of the Ring

When Bilbo’s voice began to grow hoarse from talking and laughing, Frodo pleaded with him to go straight back to bed.  Bilbo’s grumbles were good-natured ones, as he well knew he wasn’t yet fully recovered.  He was pleased when, as Frodo and Aragorn began to clear the table, Elladan volunteered to sit with him for awhile, sharing tales of Rivendell and lands beyond the mountains.

When Elladan joined Aragorn and Frodo in the parlor, he was smiling.

“Bilbo is settled very comfortably with his books, and that pot of honeyed tea you brought in,” he told Frodo.

“Visiting with Bilbo was a most strategic move, Elladan,” Aragorn said, winking at Frodo.  “You never did enjoy doing the dishes.”

“Nonsense,” Elladan protested.  “Bilbo is most delightful; I well understand now why my father remembers him so fondly.”  He pulled one of the big chairs over to the table where Aragorn and Frodo were sitting.

“Bilbo speaks of Rivendell often,” Frodo told him.  “He says he’d like to return someday.”

“We would welcome him.”  Elladan peered down at the map Frodo had spread out on the table.  “This shows great skill.”

“Bilbo draws wonderful maps,” Frodo said proudly.  With a finger, he traced the distance from Hobbiton to the northern border of the Shire.  “It looks to be 80 or 90 miles, Estel.”

“That is a very good guess,” Aragorn nodded.  “Annúminas is – or was – at the southeastern corner of Lake Evendim, just outside the boundary of your map.  It should take us four or five days to reach it, depending on the fitness of your pony.”

“Pony?” Frodo said in dismay.  “But I thought I’d be riding with you, on Ollie.”

“Ollie?” Elladan asked curiously.

“I mean Arthad,” Frodo explained.  “Sam started calling him ‘Ollie’, and I’ve grown accustomed to that name.”

“So have I, on occasion,” Aragorn chuckled.  “Frodo, you will be much more comfortable on a mount of your own.  Arthad’s saddle and stirrups were hardly made with hobbits in mind.”

“That’s true,” Frodo admitted, “but it will be so much more difficult to talk together as we ride.  I’ll be much lower to the ground than the two of you.”

“We have no trouble conversing when we walk together,” Aragorn reminded him.  “Do we?”

“No,” Frodo said with a sigh.  It would have been so glorious to ride across the Shire on a Ranger’s horse, so high up in the air.  “But won’t a pony’s shorter legs slow you down dreadfully?”

“We are in no rush,” Elladan assured the boy.  “Do you have much riding experience?”

“I've learned to ride quite well,” Frodo said enthusiastically.  “Bilbo boards several saddle ponies at the Cotton farm in Bywater; they’re beauties.”

“Perfect,” Aragorn nodded.

“I wish Sam could come with us,” Frodo said wistfully.  “Traveling with a Ranger and an Elf would make him so happy.  But the harvesting is in full swing, and I know what the Gaffer would say.”  He looked thoughtful.  “Might we take Scamp?  Remember how she found the carvings in the cellar, and then Halbarad, and all the sand that had turned to glass?”

“Sand turned to glass?” Elladan asked, startled.  “I found something like that myself, once.”

“I know,” Frodo said.  “Estel told us about it.”  He brought the bowl containing the shards of ‘star glass’ over to Elladan.  “Could we take Scamp?” he asked Aragorn again.

“I agree that Scamp might be quite useful in our search, but she couldn’t possibly keep up, no matter how slowly we rode,” Aragorn told the boy.  “Someone would have to hold onto her, or carry her in a bag.”

“She wouldn’t like that,” Frodo sighed.

“There might be a way,” Elladan said thoughtfully, holding one of the translucent pieces up to the light.  “Bilbo mentioned how restful the singing of Elves can be.”

“Yes,” Frodo said hopefully.

“I believe I can keep your pup comfortable during our journey, if you can provide a cloth to use as a sling for her to lie within.”

“That would be wonderful,” Frodo beamed.  “We even have treats for her that travel well.  We buy biscuits that Farmer Cotton makes for his dogs, made of dried meat, a bit of fat, and mashed fruit.  I’ve tasted them myself, and they’re not bad.”

“They will certainly come in handy for Scamp,” Aragorn smiled.  “As for the rest of us--”

“Oh, the North Farthing has wonderful inns,” Frodo enthused.  “And all the orchards are just bursting with fruit.”  He looked at Aragorn, his eyes sparkling.  “When do we leave?”

“Could we pick up your pony this evening?  If so, we can leave in the morning.”

“I’m sure that would be fine.  I need to tell the Gamgees I’ll be gone; I’d want someone to look in on Bilbo every day.”  Frodo started planning.  “Estel, why don’t you show Elladan the carvings while I dig out my pack, and find one of our fish poles, and--”

Aragorn laughed.  “Frodo, you will not need to bring much.  Roll up a change of clothing, and a cloak or jacket, in several blankets.  Bring a water bowl and those treats for Scamp, and any personal items you might wish to have with you.  There are fish poles at the lake, in a shelter kept there by the Rangers.”

“A cloak or jacket?” Frodo frowned.  “It’s summer!”

“Take another look at this map,” Aragorn said.  “We will be riding quite a distance north, and there is usually a cool breeze from the lake, even at mid-summer.  The lake is as cold as the pond from which you and Bilbo saved me.”

“Will we be going far enough to see the ice fields?” Frodo asked eagerly.

“Not that far,” Elladan smiled.  He turned to Aragorn.  “What are these carvings you wish to show me?”  His smile dissolved at his foster-brother’s serious expression.

“You have lived many years, Elladan,” Aragorn said gravely, “but you are about to gaze upon something you will not long forget.”  He got to his feet.  “I will show you the way, then leave you alone.  I needed some time to myself, the first time I saw them, and I believe you will, as well.”

*~*~*~*~*

It was several hours before Elladan emerged from the cavern behind Bag End’s ice cellar.  He found Frodo in the kitchen feeding Scamp, and making preparations for what the boy called ‘elevenses’.

“What do you think of the carvings?” Frodo asked.  “Estel and Arminas say they’re folks from the First Age, named Lúthien and Beren.”

“I agree,” Elladan replied.  He was clearly shaken, and very thoughtful.  “Thank you for allowing me to see them, Frodo.  Where is Estel?”

“Down in the field, seeing to the horses,” Frodo said, slicing some cheese.  “Did he show you your room?  I hope you’re comfortable there tonight.”

“You and Bilbo are most gracious hosts,” Elladan assured the boy.  “I was surprised to see such large beds in your home.”

Frodo smiled.  “Bilbo has friends from everywhere.  Gandalf visits when he can, and Estel has brought folks with him, like Halbarad and Arminas.  We haven’t had any Dwarves visit since I’ve lived here, but I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.”

Elladan frowned slightly at the mention of Durin’s race, but said nothing.

“Here, take some of this with you,” Frodo said, handing the Elf a cloth filled with cheese and bread.  “I can tell that you want to speak with Estel.”

“Thank you, young one,” Elladan smiled.  “You are most perceptive.”

Frodo smiled.  “Estel calls me ‘little one’.”

“Forgive me, Frodo.  I will refrain from--”

“No, it’s all right,” Frodo assured him.  “I don’t mind.  What truly counts is what a person is on the inside, not the outside.  Estel taught me that.”

“You are most wise,” Elladan smiled back, wrapping up the food.  “I thank you for this, Frodo, and will see you later.”

Elladan walked down to the large field where Aragorn stood with the horses, who were drinking from basins filled with water.

“Frodo sent these,” Elladan said, opening the cloth and sharing out portions of bread and cheese.  “The hospitality of Bag End rivals that of my father’s house.”  He looked around.  “Did you bring all this water down the hill?  I would have assisted you.”

“I discovered Sam and his brothers already doing so,” Aragorn said.  “Sam has a keen love and regard for all living things.  Arthad is always very pleased to be among hobbits.”

“As are you, I see.”  Elladan stood for a moment with Romaryn, murmuring to him in Elvish, before turning once again to Aragorn.

“When I learned that you and my sister were in love, I felt... confused, and angry.”  Aragorn started to speak, but Elladan stopped him.  “Those carvings, Aragorn... hearing the tales is one thing, but seeing the images is something quite different.  The love that Lúthien and Beren felt for one another, and what they endured...” He sighed.  “I truly hope that you and Arwen find happiness.  It is my wish that someday there will be monuments to your love as stirring as the one that lies hidden here, in the Shire.”

“Thank you, Elladan,” Aragorn said quietly.  He clasped his foster brother’s arm.  “It means a great deal to hear you say that.”

“Frodo looks quite weary,” Elladan said after a few moments.  “Halflings have not been my study, but it does not take a healer to see that, despite his enthusiasm about your visit and what you propose, he is on the edge of exhaustion from caring for his uncle.”

“I know,” Aragorn agreed.  “I am certain that is why Bilbo is entrusting him to us.  Come, let us see if we can convince Frodo to rest today.  We start our journey in the morning.”

“You believe we will discover something, don’t you?” Elladan asked curiously.

“Yes, I do,” Aragorn said thoughtfully.  “Elendil believed he would return to the north after helping vanquish Sauron.  Why would he not leave many things behind, and why would his people necessarily know about all of them?”

”You are putting your hope in a boy’s rather vague dream, and his pup’s ability to find things where others cannot.”

“Trust me, Elladan,” Aragorn said, “that hope has never yet been misplaced.  Frodo is quite a remarkable person.  But whatever happens, I might learn something new about my forefather.”

“Perhaps I have more to learn, as well,” Elladan said softly.  “I am glad our paths crossed near Bree.”  He regarded Aragorn thoughtfully.  “You are different amongst the halflings… more spirited, and less tense.  You seem... younger here.”

“Perhaps, after a few days in Frodo’s company,” Aragorn smiled, “you will feel the same.”

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 5, 13, and 15, “Estel’s Birthday” chapters 3, 4, and 6, and “When the King Comes Back” chapter 1.

Chapter 4:  The Hospitality of Hobbits

To the end of his days Bilbo could never remember how he found himself outside, without a hat, a walking-stick or any money, or anything that he usually took when he went out.  ‘Roast Mutton’, The Hobbit

“What kind of host would I be, napping away your visit?” Frodo protested.

“You are an excellent host,” Aragorn told him, “but you are also a tween who has gone too long with too little sleep.  Besides, we will be together for the next two weeks – plenty of time for talking and visiting, don’t you think?”

“But Bilbo might need...”

Aragorn smiled to himself.  At over 100 years of age, Bilbo seemed a most practical hobbit who could certainly care for himself.  It was obvious, however, that Frodo was unused to seeing his uncle ill, and was quite concerned about him; no doubt, he always would be.

“I will see to anything he requires,” Aragorn assured the boy.

“All right,” Frodo said reluctantly.  “Thank you.  I’ll go down and talk with the Gamgees after my nap.  My short nap.”  He took himself off to his room.  Folding his shirt and breeches over a chair, Frodo climbed into bed with a sigh.  He hadn’t truly rested well since Bilbo became ill, and it really was lovely to finally relax... just for an hour or so...

To no one’s surprise (save his own) Frodo slept the afternoon away, waking only when his stomach informed him, most insistently, that it was well past luncheon.  It was, in fact, nearly suppertime, the sun beginning to sink in a golden twilight.  Frodo dressed, then washed his face and hastily ran his fingers through his curls.  He peeked into Bilbo’s room to find it empty, then discovered his uncle, Scamp, and Aragorn in the kitchen.  Aragorn was stirring a pot of stew bubbling deliciously on the stove, and Bilbo was sitting at the table, slicing bread.

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long, Bilbo,” Frodo said apologetically.

“I’m very glad you did, my boy,” Bilbo told him.  “You needed it.”

“Where’s Elladan?”

“He wished to see the spot where the sand turned to glass,” Aragorn told him.  “It’s a walk of only a few miles, as you know.”

“I’ll go talk with the Gamgees, and then return to help with supper,” Frodo said.  “Bilbo, how are you feeling?”

“Better and better,” Bilbo smiled.  “I’ll be just fine, dear lad.  Don’t worry about a thing.”

Frodo smiled back; Bilbo did look and sound markedly better.  Perhaps there was some magic to Aragorn after all, as the old hobbit was fond of saying.

Frodo walked down to Bagshot Row with Scamp, and was welcomed into Number Three.  The Gamgee family was quite astonished to learn that the young master was leaving the next day with the Ranger and Elf – journeying to a place outside the Shire -- but they assured him they would be more than pleased to look after Bilbo, and anything else that needed doing.  Frodo thanked them profusely, but couldn’t help noticing that one member of the family was unusually quiet.

“Sam, would you see us out?” Frodo asked.  He called Scamp over from where she had been playing ‘chase me around the parlor’ with Patch and Blossom.

“Sam,” Frodo said softly, once they were outside.  “I truly wish you could come with us.”

Sam sighed.  “I wish so too, Mr. Frodo.  But there’s so much to do in the summer.”

“I know,” Frodo nodded.  “That’s why I didn’t even ask your parents.”

“Besides,” Sam said firmly, “you’re trustin’ us with Mr. Bilbo, and you’ll not regret it.”

“I know that, with all my heart,” Frodo said, smiling at his friend.

“Will you be leavin’ Scamp with us, or can Mr. Bilbo look after her himself?” Sam asked.

“Neither; Estel says we can take her with us.”

“On a horse?” Sam gasped.  “With all that jouncin’ around?”

“I’m not sure what Elladan has in mind, but he says he can keep her calm and comfortable,” Frodo said.  “I just need to find a cloth sling or bag for her to lie in.”

“Mr. Frodo,” Sam said with a grin, “I think we have just the thing for you, if Ma will part with it for a few weeks.  She should, seein’ as how well she thinks of you, and that it’s not bein’ used currently, and all.”

“What do you mean?” Frodo asked.

“Wait here.”  Sam raced back into Number Three.  It wasn’t two minutes later that he emerged, all smiles, with something in his hands.

“Sam,” Frodo chuckled, “that should be absolutely perfect.  Thank you.”

*~*~*~*~*

After supper, Aragorn lifted Frodo up onto Arthad, and they rode down to the Cotton farm to retrieve one of Bilbo’s ponies.  Biscuit, Frodo’s favorite, was a ‘beauty’ indeed, the color of honey with white mane and tail.  He stood taller than many Shire ponies, but was a good match for Frodo, who was likewise rather tall for a hobbit tween.  It was obvious that the pony was well cared for, and delighted to see Frodo.  Aragorn was pleased to see how expertly Frodo saddled his mount, and the ease with which the boy rode.  Riding together back across The Water, they tethered Biscuit in the lush field with Romaryn and Arthad -- who whickered gently and reassuringly to their small cousin.

“You’re much more at ease among animals now than when we first met,” Aragorn teased gently, as he and Frodo walked up the lane to Bag End.

“I’m not a child anymore,” Frodo said, his voice a mixture of confidence and hope.

“Indeed, you are not,” Aragorn said.  “I doubt Bilbo would have given permission for you to accompany us on this journey had you not demonstrated to him that you have grown into a responsible lad.  You have gained his respect, and his trust.  And mine,” he added softly.

“Thank you,” Frodo whispered, joy filling his heart.  To know that those he most valued saw something of worth in him... there were few things that could make him any happier.

“Have you been to where we’re going – to Annúminas?” Frodo asked.

“Yes,” Aragorn said, “but never for very long.  Remember when you and Bilbo met me at Bindbale Wood for our camping trip?  I last visited the ruins around that time.”

“Has Elladan been there?”

“Only a few times, long ago,” Aragorn said.  “Much has changed over the millenia.”

“Millenia?” Frodo gasped.  “How old is he?”

“He and his brother were born soon after the beginning of this Age,” Aragorn replied.

“That’s almost three thousand years ago!” Frodo marveled.  “I wonder if that’s one of the reasons Bilbo so enjoys being amongst Elves... perhaps they make him feel younger.”

“Perhaps they do,” Aragorn agreed.

*~*~*~*~*

It was full nightfall before Elladan returned to Bag End, and Frodo hurriedly brought a plate of warmed stew and bread to the dining room.  He also poured Elladan some of Bilbo’s best wine, which the Elf accepted with delight.

“Did you find the place?” Aragorn asked, taking a seat.

“I did,” Elladan said with a smile.  “The ducks are even more numerous than Frodo described; they are a most contented family.”  He pulled a shard of translucent material from a pouch at his waist, and placed it on the table.  “I found one piece that your pup overlooked.  This material is quite rare.”

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Frodo asked.  “Estel told us that Elves call the star showers ‘Nienna’s tears’.”

“Yes,” Elladan said softly.  “The Valar remind us of their presence in many ways – in the music of the waters, the life swelling in trees, and the radiance of the stars.  Time passes slowly, and yet it does pass; Arda is ever in motion.  Water overflows its banks to form new lakes, trees grow to maturity and fall to make room for new saplings... why might an ancient fragment of star not tumble to the earth once in a while?”  He smiled at the hobbit.  “I saw several packs by the door.  What are you bringing?”

“Not much,” Frodo assured him.  “I have two blankets and an oilcloth, some spare clothing, tooth powder, brushes, a towel, pocket-handkerchiefs, some coins, my pocket-knife, a cup and some bowls... and a few other things.  We’ll pack bread, cheese, meat, and some sweets in the morning, and the travel biscuits for Scamp.  I have a water bottle too, as we’ll be passing so many streams and brooks.”  Frodo grinned suddenly.  “Let me show you what else I have for Scamp.  Sam thought of it.”  He ran to the small pile of gear in the front hall, and returned with the cloth Sam had handed him.

“Is that...” Aragorn couldn’t help smiling.

“This will serve quite well, Frodo,” Elladan approved.

“I thought so,” Frodo said.  “Sam’s very clever, isn’t he?  Mothers carry their babes in padded slings like these.  See where the straps can wrap around and tie?  Scamp can rest in here, against your chest – or mine – snug as can be, and hardly bounce around at all.”  He yawned suddenly.  “I’d best get to bed, after I check on Bilbo once more.”

“Good night,” Aragorn said.

“Good night,” Frodo said.  “I hope you’re comfortable tonight, Elladan.  Bilbo’s told me about Rivendell, so I know Bag End isn’t what you’re used to.”

“Frodo,” Elladan said, “Bag End is a most comfortable home, and you should not doubt your hospitality.  Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

“I’m so happy to hear you say that,” Frodo beamed.

“Sleep well, little one,” Aragorn smiled at him.  “We will see you in the morning.”

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “When the King Comes Back” chapter 13.

Chapter 5:  A Perspective on Elves

Then the enchantment became more and more dreamlike, until he felt that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him.  Swiftly he sank under its shining weight into a deep realm of sleep.  ‘Many Meetings’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Aragorn knelt by Frodo’s bed, wishing he didn’t have to wake his young friend.  The room was bathed in a rosy glow from the sun’s first rays.  It was a beautiful summer day, and looked to be fine weather for travelling.

“It is morning, little one,” he said softly to the sleeping tween.  Hearing his voice, Scamp poked her head out from under the tangled blankets, her pink tongue curling in a yawn.  She scooched forward toward the Ranger’s hand to get scratched and petted.

As Scamp’s tail thumped him in the nose, Frodo giggled and opened his eyes.  He sat up, dark curls tumbling about his face.

“Is it time?” Frodo asked, his eyes sparkling.  “Do you think I packed everything I’ll need?  Did you sleep all right?  Is Bilbo awake?  What time is it?”

Aragorn chuckled at the barrage of questions.

“Nearly, yes, yes, no, and just past sunrise,” he responded, smiling at the lad.  “Elladan and I have eaten already, but take your time getting ready.  Feed Scamp and have some breakfast, then meet us down in the field.  We’ll take the packs.”  He gave Frodo a hug, then left the room.

Frodo leaped out of bed, washed, then donned his most comfortable traveling clothes.  Scamp, sensing that something out of the ordinary was happening, sat on the bed, watching his every move.

On his way to the kitchen, Frodo stopped by Bilbo’s room and gently pushed open the door.  Moving quietly to the bed, he watched his uncle sleep.  Bilbo’s face was no longer flushed with fever, and he was breathing deeply and easily.  Relieved, Frodo left a folded note on the bedside table, then bent and lightly kissed his uncle’s brow.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks,” Frodo whispered.  “Thank you for letting me go.”

*~*~*~*~*

By the time Frodo and Scamp raced down to the field, the horses and pony had been watered and brushed.  Arthad and Biscuit were saddled, and the various packs and satchels were fastened comfortably to them.  Elladan had tied the baby sling loosely about his waist, for use later in the day, and had a quiver of arrows, several long knives, and an unstrung bow strapped to his back.  Frodo’s eyes widened at the length of the bow, the longest and most powerful he had ever seen.

“Don’t you use a saddle?” Frodo asked Elladan curiously.

“Very rarely,” Elladan answered, patting Romaryn fondly.  “Over many years of practice, we learn to communicate our needs to our mounts in ways they can understand.  There is usually no need of such equipment.”

Frodo nodded, feeling the slight unease return which had kept him awake and thinking long into the night.  Elladan was three thousand years old.  What a child he must seem in the Elf’s eyes.

“Are you ready, Frodo?” Aragorn asked, mounting Arthad.  “Why don’t you give me Scamp to hold for awhile?  There is no need to confine her until she grows restless.”

Frodo nodded, scooped up Scamp from the cool, dew-laden grass, and handed her up to the Ranger.  Scamp settled into the crook of Aragorn’s left arm, looking about curiously.

Frodo swung up onto Biscuit’s saddle, tremendously excited.  As Aragorn rode forward, Frodo took one last look up the lane toward Bag End before urging Biscuit into a brisk walk next to Arthad, with Elladan just behind them.

Following farm lanes, the trio rode northeast from The Hill, taking occasional breaks to rest the horses and pony, nibble some fruit or cheese, and allow Scamp to run about.  They bypassed Overhill, and by late morning, reached the branch of The Water that meandered up into the Northfarthing.

For several hours, Frodo had been unusually quiet.  Aragorn was about to remark on it when the boy finally spoke.

“This must be the way Halbarad went,” Frodo said.  The path on which they rode, alongside the sparkling stream, was well travelled.  “How is he?”

“Quite well,” Aragorn smiled down at the boy.  “Since meeting with the Dwarves, he has grown vastly in confidence and diplomatic skills.  I have come to greatly rely on him, and his brother.”  He slowed his horse, and Frodo and Elladan did likewise.  “We will stop for lunch in a few hours, before turning east toward the road, to give the animals a good rest; but I believe it is time now for Elladan to take his turn with Scamp.  She has fared remarkably well, but is getting a bit restive.”  He brought Arthad to a halt.

Elladan rode up next to Arthad, fastening the sling about his chest with a smile.  Taking the wriggling pup from Aragorn, he placed her within the sling, speaking soothingly all the while.  Scamp settled briefly, surrounded by the familiar smell of the Gamgee family caught up in the cloth, but was soon squirming restlessly, unused to being kept still for so long.

“I will ride ahead, and see that she is comfortable,” Elladan said softly.  He urged Romaryn forward until they were well ahead of Aragorn and Frodo.

“Frodo,” Aragorn said as he and the boy began riding again, “I have rarely known you to speak so little.  I was expecting to be showered with all manner of questions on this trip.  Are you missing home, or feeling ill?  You can tell me.”

“Oh no,” Frodo assured him.  “I feel wonderful, and am enjoying myself.  Truly I am.  I’m so happy you wanted me to come with you.  It’s just that...”  He bit his lip and fell silent again.

“Is it Elladan?  Does his presence make you uneasy?”

Frodo sighed.  “Whenever I begin to say something, I stop myself.  What can a hobbit talk about that would not seem trivial and unimportant to one so ancient?  I don’t want him to think me a babbling infant.”

“On some level, I believe that Elves think of all mortals as mere infants,” Aragorn said reassuringly.  “They watch our lives pass in the blink of an eye.  Elves see the world – and mortals – in ways that we will never truly comprehend.  For them, time passes in a different manner.”

“Oh.”  Frodo hadn’t thought of that.

“Is there anything else?”

“I didn’t want to make a lot of noise, and make you sorry you asked me along,” Frodo admitted.  “I imagine that Rangers ride in silence.”

“For the most part, we do,” Aragorn said.  “However, you are not a Ranger, and I do not expect you to behave as one.  We are not on patrol, Frodo; we are in the Shire, your home, and it would grieve me if you felt uncomfortable in any way.  I miss your questions, little one.”

“Do you?” Frodo asked, brightening at Aragorn’s words.  “May I truly ask you and Elladan anything I wish?  You may regret it.  I do have so very many questions.”

“I doubt it not!” Aragorn chuckled.  “Such as?”

“I know there are lots of inns along the way, but must we stay under a roof each night?  I’d so love to camp under the trees, and hear stories, and watch the stars.  Whatever is Elladan doing with Scamp?  Can you draw his bow?  It’s so enormous.  Will we go hunting, and fishing, and stalking wild things?  What if we do find treasure?  Why does Elladan ride behind us most of the time?  What does ‘Annúminas’ mean?  Who built it?  What do you think--”

“Now that’s the Frodo I know!”  Aragorn roared with laughter, and Frodo joined him, feeling relaxed and happy again.  “To answer one of your questions, Elladan is singing to Scamp -- and will do so whenever needed.  His father, Lord Elrond, understands and teaches the relationship of the Great Song with all living things, and has been able to teach a few persons how to calm and heal with Music.  Elladan can send a person – or animal – into a peaceful sleep.  Scamp will be rested, and wake when we wish.”

“But why did he ride so far ahead of us?” Frodo asked curiously.  “I’d love to hear Elvish singing.”

“You will,” Aragorn assured him.  “Not all songs bring sleep, and you will enjoy hearing his voice as he greets the stars each evening.  He rode ahead so the spell he weaves for Scamp does not ensnare anyone else.”

“You mean us?” Frodo asked, amazed.  The thought of being put to sleep on a wave of song filled him with wonder.

“Yes,” Aragorn said softly.  He refrained from mentioning that he, too, had learned this skill, and also how to resist the sweet enchantments of the river of Music.

“Here he comes,” Frodo said, as Elladan turned back to meet them.  He looked up at Aragorn mischievously. “He looks rather fetching wearing that flowered sling, doesn’t he?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Aragorn said, winking at the boy.

“What are you two grinning about?” Elladan asked, coming abreast of them.  He was happy to see the young halfling smiling once more.

“Elvish fashions,” Aragorn said lightly.

Frodo suddenly dissolved once more in laughter.  He felt lighter, as if a dark cloud had lifted from his heart, and no longer embarrassed or uncertain.  Peeking into the sling, he saw that Scamp lay curled and content within, sound asleep.  This was powerful magic indeed.

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 5, and “When the King Comes Back” chapter 2.

Chapter 6:  A Glimpse of Distant Lands

But her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, were out upon errantry: for they rode often far afield with the Rangers of the North, forgetting never their mother's torment in the dens of the orcs.  ‘Many Meetings’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Ted Burrows, proprietor of The Stonebrook Inn, surveyed with interest the two people who had just come in the front door.  Interest, and a sense of wonder.  Rangers, now, they turned up now and again, seeking a night’s lodging or a meal.  They were quiet guests, always paid their bill, and caused no harm.  Why, one had come through just a few months’ back, staying one night and moving on.  But an Elf, now, here was a rare sight.  Lamps had been lit in the common room, and the hearth crackled with bright flame, but he would swear this Elf carried his own light with him, a strange radiance that you could almost see if you didn’t quite look at him...

“Mr. Burrows!” a voice rang out.  “Do you remember me, sir?”

Ted dragged his eyes away from the Elf, tall and fair, and realized that a young hobbit had entered with the other two.  The tween was certainly familiar, having travelled up from Hobbiton now and again with Bilbo Baggins, but the boy’s presence with these folk made him frown in sudden alarm.  He came forward and drew the boy aside.

“I’m surprised to see you in such company, Frodo,” Ted said softly.  “Is everything all right?  They didn’t snatch you away from your home, did they?”

Frodo laughed, a clear sound free of any fear or distress.

“Everything’s fine, sir.  I’m just on a little journey with my friends.  Their names are Estel and Elladan.”

“Well, if you say so,” Ted said slowly.  “You keep interesting company, lad, and no mistake.”  He bowed slightly to the Ranger and Elf, then looked at his new guests more closely.  All three were covered in road dust.  “You’ll be wanting rooms, then, and a bath?  And we’ve some lovely beef roasting.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Frodo sighed.  For all his longing to sleep under the stars, he had  been quick to agree with Aragorn’s suggestion that they take advantage of an inn’s hospitality for this first night.  Frodo hadn’t realized how sore and tired he would be after a full day in the saddle.

“Is it all right if my dog stays with us?” Frodo asked anxiously.  Scamp was wandering happily around the large room, sniffing all the new smells.  Unlike Frodo, she was full of energy and well rested.

“Of course,” Ted said with a smile.  He had never seen such a tiny pup in all his life. He showed them to the largest guest suite, and called for hot water to be brought.  When the hobbit, Elf, and Ranger reappeared sometime later, washed and ready for supper, the common room, nearly empty before, was full to bursting with curious hobbits.

Ted was bustling happily about, helping serve the unaccustomed crowd.  A few bachelor farmers or laborers usually took their supper here, but the inn rarely drew such a crowd except at Yule, or during festival time.  Rangers were usually met with either disinterest or mild suspicion, but word had spread far and wide about an Elf in the North Farthing... and few who got word would consider missing such an event.

Ted hovered in the background, waiting until the three were finished eating.  Scamp, having eaten her fill from a bowl of savory scraps, was lying under the table at Frodo’s feet.  The Ranger sat back, drawing out his pipe and pouch.

“Sir,” Ted ventured, addressing Elladan, “we’ve heard much about Elves, sir, and their singing.  Would you be willing to honor us with a melody?  If it’s no trouble, that is.”  He looked anxious, not knowing if his question would offend.  But his neighbors – and good wife – would never forgive him had he not asked, and he knew it right well.

“It is far from trouble,” Elladan said softly, his speaking voice alone enough to make the serving maid sigh.  He gazed into the hearthfire, and began a quiet song.  The words were simple, a song Aragorn recognized from his childhood -- praising food and drink, earth and sky, and Arda in its bounty.

Frodo sat transfixed, as spellbound as the rest.  Elladan’s voice was unlike anything he had heard before – almost as if more than one melody was coming from his throat, the notes liquid as a waterfall, as bright as the stars.  He could almost see what Elladan was singing...

Elladan finished, and the hobbits, eyes a bit glazed, slowly realized that they were still in the Shire and not wandering a land full of colors for which their vocabulary knew no words.  The song had been in a language they didn’t know, but there was no question in anyone’s mind what the Elf had been singing about.  They would never forget this, never in their whole lives.

“Thank you,” Ted said, bowing low. “We’ve never heard the like.”

“It is my pleasure,” Elladan said.  “And now, perhaps your folk will share a tune as well?”

Ted beamed with pleasure, and called for a song from one of his neighbors -- a worthy farmer with a good voice -- and the room soon rang with familiar tunes, and the clapping and laughter of hobbits.

Frodo excused himself to visit the privy, and when he returned, he spoke to the innkeeper privately before returning to the table.

“Mr. Burrows,” Frodo said earnestly, “please let me know what you charge for a night’s stay, and our supper and breakfast.  I have enough coins to--”

“No need, lad,” Ted smiled.  “Your Ranger friend asked me the same thing while you were gone, and the same answer I’ll tell you.  A night like this is worth more than coin, and you won’t be spending any of yours here.  And if you stop by on the way back from your journeying, you’ll not pay then, either.”  He clapped the boy on the shoulder.  “Mr. Bilbo Baggins has himself a fine, responsible lad, and I’ll tell him that myself, next time I see him.”  He left Frodo standing there, glowing with the unexpected praise.

*~*~*~*~*

The North Farthing was a place of ordered beauty, with its uncrowded orchards, farms, herds of livestock, and patches of wild forest.  Well-tended fields were watered from the plentiful streams and irrigation ditches.  As they rode north, Frodo explained to Aragorn and Elladan that, by Shire custom, any fruit fallen from trees, or growing on branches that drooped over the road, were free for anyone to enjoy.  This way, the three friends supplemented their travel food with delicious peaches and apricots, plums and cherries, and berries growing wild.

By the second day’s travel, Scamp was already growing used to the routine. She would ride for a while curled in Aragorn’s arm, knowing there would be frequent stops for running about and investigating the holes of ground squirrels and rabbits. She was thriving on the travel biscuits and other treats Frodo had brought and, although there was plenty of water available, greatly enjoyed the occasional bowls of milk procured from the farms they passed. After a few hours’ riding, Scamp would grow restive, and allow herself to be placed in the comfortable sling. At first Elladan alone wore it, but eventually Frodo and Aragorn were also able to take turns, as Scamp began to equate the sling with sleep, and no longer needed a song in order to settle down for naps.

They made camp on the second night in a sheltered grove near the small town of Oatbarton, the evening air warm and clear.

“We have traveled a good distance in two days,” Aragorn said as the three friends laid out their bedrolls under an oak tree.  “You have a fine mount, Frodo.”

“I agree,” Elladan said.  He had been whispering quietly to the tree, and now leaned back against it comfortably.  “Biscuit is enjoying the journey very much.”

“Can you really tell?” Frodo asked, delighted.  He opened a wrapped package, and handed out the beef sandwiches and little cakes that Mrs. Burrows had given them that morning for their supper.

“Without doubt,” Elladan assured the boy, who smiled happily.

“What did you say to the tree?” Frodo asked.

“We sleep this night at its feet, and our voices disturb the quiet life to which it is accustomed,” Elladan explained.  “I asked for permission for us to do so, and assured it we would not tarry beyond the morning.”

“Did it understand you?” Frodo asked, wide eyed.

“It is young, but aware,” Elladan said, laying a gentle hand on the bark.

Frodo applied himself to the delicious food, but the thought of the innkeeper and his wife brought another question to his mind.  He still knew so little about Rangers, and was burning with curiosity.

“Estel, if you don’t mind my asking, where... where do you get your money? Mr. Burrows said you offered to pay for our lodging and meals. Do you get paid for Rangering?”

Aragorn could see that talking about money embarrassed Frodo, and so hesitated for only a moment before answering..

“For many generations,” he explained, “Lord Elrond of Rivendell has seen to it that the needs are met for Men who dwell in the north, and their families.”

“Why?”

“My father supports those who maintain peace and security in the north,” Elladan said softly.  “The Rangers do much to maintain such, and they should not be in want.”

“I agree,” Frodo said.  “I’m so glad to hear that, Estel.  Bilbo and I worry about you.”  He yawned suddenly.

“Thank you, little one,” Aragorn smiled.  “Do you have any other questions before you sleep?”

Frodo looked at Elladan; he now felt at ease around him, and realized that there was something he had wanted to ask since leaving Hobbiton.

“Elladan, do you sense some kind of danger?”

“Danger?” Elladan asked, puzzled at the boy’s question.  “The farms and orchards of your sweet Shire pose no threat.  Why do you ask that?”

“You keep looking around so... so suspiciously,” Frodo explained, “and you tend to ride behind Estel, not next to him.  You look like you’re expecting us to be attacked by something at any moment.”

“I am sorry, Frodo,” Elladan said quietly.  “Vigilance is not a habit I can easily set aside, but I assure you that I have seen nothing to cause alarm.”

“Is it so fearsome out there?” Frodo asked hesitantly.  “Outside the Shire, that is.”

“Frodo, there are perils and those of black heart everywhere in Middle-earth, but also many who have pledged their lives to the safety of others.  My brother Elrohir and I have spent many, many years hunting those who wish others ill.” He sought to speak simply, and in a way that would not frighten this lad.

“You’re like Rangers, then,” Frodo nodded.  “Gandalf told me that they protect weaker folk from harm, and keep the roads safe.”

“I suppose we are,” Elladan smiled at Aragorn.  “We ride often with the Rangers, and honor their cause.  It has become the custom among us that I ride slightly behind the Men, and Elrohir slightly ahead.”

“Do you miss your brother?” Frodo asked sleepily.

“He is right here, always,” Elladan said, laying a hand to his heart.  “And I have another in my life who is as a brother to me, sitting right next to you.”

Aragorn looked up to see Elladan’s eyes upon him, shining like stars.

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 2, 5, 9, 13, and 17.

Chapter 7:  The Bounds

The last battle, before this story opens, indeed the only one that had ever been fought within the borders of the Shire, was beyond living memory: the Battle of Greenfields, S.R. 1147, in which Bandobras Took routed an invasion of Orcs.  ‘Prologue’, The Fellowship of the Ring

“I do have Took blood, of course, but not quite as much as Bilbo.  My grandmother Mirabella was one of the daughters of Gerontius Took.  He was the grand-nephew of Bandobras, who led the charge on the goblins here.  That was nearly 250 years ago.  Bandobras was very big for a hobbit, and maybe I take after him.  I’m rather tall for my age, you know.”  Frodo stopped for breath and consulted Bilbo’s map, which he had brought along in his pack.  “That must be the path,” he pointed.

“Why don’t you ride ahead, Frodo,” Elladan suggested.  “We will join you shortly.”

Frodo nodded, and urged Biscuit away from the main road and along a trail that led through a clump of trees.

“Have you heard enough yet about hobbit genealogy?” Aragorn chuckled, riding slowly next to Elladan.

“Not at all,” Elladan smiled.  “I have memorized many lines of descent, both Elvish and human; it is good to remember those who are honored by their people.  However, I was not aware before now that the hobbits had any encounters with Orcs.  That is unsettling.”

“Yes,” Aragorn said grimly.  They emerged from the trees into a vast clearing, containing a single, carved stone standing approximately 12 feet high.  “Orcs once came as far into the Shire as this place, but were driven back.  Hobbits are peace-loving creatures, to be sure, but there is hidden strength in these people that is perhaps not fully known, even to themselves.”  He peered at his foster-brother.  “You wanted to speak with me out of Frodo’s hearing?”

Elladan looked at him gravely.  “Ever since we came in sight of the hills,” he said, motioning north, “I have sensed a growing anxiety within you.  Now that Frodo is comfortable talking to us about anything, you are the one growing unusually quiet.  Is something amiss?”

Aragorn drew Arthad to a halt, and he and Elladan watched as Frodo dismounted and stood before the stone, a memorial to brave deeds and a legendary figure from his past.

“Those hills mark the limit of Bilbo’s map,” Aragorn remarked.  “We will reach the border of the Shire – what the hobbits call ‘the bounds’ – before nightfall.  I doubt very much that many hobbits have ever ventured beyond it.”

“What concerns you?  The lake is directly north of us; surely you do not fear getting lost?”

“No,” Aragorn said.  “What I fear is my own foolhardiness.”

“Speak, my brother,” Elladan said softly.

“Elladan, why am I doing this?” Aragorn burst out suddenly.  “What right have I to encourage Frodo to leave the protected borders of his land?  In pursuit of a rather vague dream?  To fulfill my own curiosity about Elendil, and what he may have left behind in his city?”  He frowned.  “It is my task to safeguard the Shirefolk, not place them in danger.”

“To what danger do you refer?” Elladan asked, puzzled.  “There are no reports of Orcs, wolves, or brigands in this area.  The borders are well patrolled, and the weather has been fair.”

“I know,” Aragorn agreed.  “It is not any physical danger that unsettles me, but rather the whole idea of this journey.  As the hills grew closer, the enormity of what we are doing struck me.”

“Your feelings are understandable, after so many years as a guardian of these folk, but you intend only good toward Frodo and all those in your charge,” Elladan reminded him.  “Our young friend will see what lies beyond his uncle’s map, and walk among the ruins of a city long gone.  He will bring home a tale of adventure, and forever value this time spent with you.”

“I value it, as well.”

“Be at peace, then.” Elladan said reassuringly.  “We will be vigilant, as always, but I do not believe there is reason to fear for Frodo, either physically or emotionally; he is having a wonderful time, as is this endearing pup.”  He leaned over to pat Scamp, peacefully napping inside the sling being worn today by Aragorn, and smiled at a sudden memory.  “Do you recall your first patrol?  You did not know it, but Elrohir and I were uneasy about taking you beyond protected borders – in that case, those of Imladris, the only land you had ever known.  But there are those who cannot forever be kept ignorant of the world ‘outside’, and who venture beyond safety, home, and hearth.  You were one.  Perhaps this remarkable lad is another.”

“Perhaps,” Aragorn agreed.  He was taken by the Elf’s rare use of the word remarkable.  “Frodo has impressed me since the day we met; you see it, too?”

“It is not a question of seeing, more of sensing possibilities and innate Gifts.”

“You have your father’s foresight.”

Elladan shook his head ruefully.  “Not to such a degree as he.  But still... this boy’s life path holds great potential.  It is simply a fact.”

“Gandalf agrees with you,” Aragorn smiled, “as do I.”

“Come,” Elladan said, riding forward.  “Frodo will wonder what is keeping us.  Let us pay our respects to Bandobras Took; he, too, was apparently quite a remarkable hobbit.”

*~*~*~*~*

Late that afternoon, the three riders reached a row of widely-spaced posts stretching east and west.  The terrain had grown more rocky as the day progressed, and beyond the posts, the well-maintained road on which they had been riding for four days faded into a faint track that led to the hills now looming directly ahead.  Seeing the markers which proclaimed the edge of the North Farthing filled Frodo with wonder.  They had reached the bounds, and the end of Bilbo’s map.  Beyond a sketch of the hills, there was nothing but white space.  Before they left, Bilbo had scribbled there only ‘Lake Evendim’ – tantalizing words holding a promise of what lay... outside.  Frodo was looking forward to filling in some of the white space on his uncle’s map with his own observations and sketches.  He very much doubted that his dream would lead them to anything behind a “secret door”, but this was treasure he could bring home to share with Bilbo – and he had packed paper and pens for that very purpose.

Aragorn led them to a site that had obviously been used before, at the very base of the hills.  There was a pile of downed wood stacked by a circle of stones, and from somewhere nearby came the sweet sound of running water.

“Is this a Ranger camp?” Frodo asked.

“It is,” Aragorn said, smiling at the boy’s obvious excitement.  They relieved their mounts of the gear they carried, then Aragorn woke Scamp with a gentle touch.  The pup poked her head out from the sling, and was lifted down to the ground.  She greeted Frodo with yips and jumps, then looked around.

“I will take the horses and Biscuit to the spring, and also ensure that Scamp knows where to find a drink,” Elladan said.  He spoke softly to each animal in turn, then began walking in the direction of the running water.  To Frodo’s amazement, all four animals simply followed him.

“I really must learn more Elvish,” Frodo said, shaking his head.  He helped Aragorn set up camp, and build a fire to roast the rabbits they had caught for supper.  As the sun set, Frodo was glad of the fire’s warmth, and that he had followed Aragorn’s advice to bring his cloak; this far north, the evening air held a slight chill.

“I hope my letters arrive soon,” Frodo said, gazing into the flames.

“I know from experience that your Shire Post is most reliable,” Aragorn assured him.

The previous day, they had spotted a Shire Post rider, a lad who was utterly amazed at seeing a Ranger and Elf along the roads of the North Farthing.  Anticipating such a meeting, Frodo had already prepared letters for Bilbo and Sam.  The rider assured him, with many a smile and tipping of his hat, and pocketing of unexpected coins, that the letters would reach Hobbiton safely and with speed.

Scamp enjoyed her supper of travel biscuits and roasted rabbit, then was ready to play.  When Frodo saw her digging into one of his packs, he got to his feet.

“I know what you’re after, you rascal,” Frodo laughed, retrieving Scamp’s pull-toy.  He held one end of the knotted-together rope of rags, and Scamp bit down on the other, growling and pulling fiercely.  At one point in the game Frodo stumbled, ending up, laughing, in Aragorn’s lap.  The Ranger began to lightly tickle the tops of the boy’s sensitive feet, which set Frodo off into uncontrollable giggles.

On the other side of the fire, watching the happy scene, Elladan gasped and sat up straighter as two images were suddenly superimposed upon one another.  In the one, Aragorn and Frodo sat laughing together.  In the other, he seemed to peer into a future time in which a slightly older-looking Aragorn was playing with what could only be his own children.  Elladan felt a chill run through his blood.  His foresight, as he had told Aragorn earlier, had never seemed as clear or reliable as his father’s, or even his brother’s.  But this vision seemed... so real.  There could be no doubt that these beautiful children had both human and Elvish blood.  Aragorn and Arwen will marry, then; somehow it will come to be.  And this halfling...

“Is he asleep?” Elladan heard Frodo’s voice as if from far away.  “I’ve seen him at night, and he doesn’t close his eyes much, does he?”

“I am awake, Frodo,” Elladan smiled, pulling himself back into the present with an effort.  It is clear that this halfling’s destiny is woven with that of Aragorn.  This is remarkable indeed.

“You’ve both been very patient, listening to me talk about hobbits all day,” Frodo said, settling comfortably against Aragorn.  “Could you tell me more about the city by the lake?  I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

In his soft voice, Aragorn began a tale of Annúminas, with Elladan adding a detail here and there.  The images followed Frodo into sleep, and he dreamed that night of towers and fountains, roads and parklands, and a very tall Man who reminded him of Estel.

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined”, chapter 17.

Chapter 8:  Lake Evendim

Thence [Elendil] passed up the River Lhûn, and beyond Ered Luin he established his realm, and his people dwelt in many places in Eriador about the courses of the Lhûn and the Baranduin; but his chief city was at Annúminas beside the water of Lake Nenuial.  ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, The Silmarillion

Hearing another huge yawn, Aragorn halted Arthad for a moment to let Frodo catch up to him.

“I do apologize, little one,” Aragorn said with a twinkle in his eye.  “I know that tweens need their sleep.”

“We do,” Frodo insisted.  “Why on earth are we doing this in the middle of the night?”

Aragorn chuckled.  “The sun should be rising just as we crest the hill.  Elladan and I didn’t want you to miss it.”

“Miss what?  Why are you being so mysterious?” Frodo asked.  He checked to see that Scamp was all right.  The pup, puzzled at being awakened before sunrise, had simply curled up in the sling about Frodo’s chest and gone straight back to sleep.  Frodo wished he could join her.

“You will see, once we reach the top,” Elladan added, coming up from the rear.

“Bilbo’s map shows that these hills end not far to the east,” Frodo argued, feeling sulky and tired.  “It would have been easier to just ride around them to the lake, and not have to climb all the way up here, and then all the way down.”

“Easier, yes,” Aragorn said soothingly, “but not as beautiful.  You will see.”

Frodo sighed, and urged Biscuit forward.  The higher they rode the colder it felt, and he was again grateful for the warm cloak Aragorn had advised him to bring.  They continued up and up, along a wide path that led to the top of the southernmost arm of the Evendim Hills.  As his eyes grew used to the pre-dawn darkness, Frodo realized that the path was in reality a fairly wide and substantial road, cut and shaped out of the rock.  Paving stones, some broken or missing, lined the ground, and the road veered now left, now right, wending its way to the top.

“How old is this road?” Frodo asked, getting more interested in his surroundings.  “Why was it made?”

“Annúminas was the major city of the north,” Aragorn said.  “Roads led to it from all directions, and would have been well travelled no matter the season.  There is a small guard tower at the top of this pass, just ahead now, where we will rest and await the rising of the sun.”

“You said that Annúminas means ‘tower of the west’,” Frodo said.  “Does it refer to that guard tower?”

“No,” Elladan told him.  “Elendil’s mighty city is no more, Frodo.  Its lofty tower, and the halls, homes, and trade stations were dismantled long ago.  Most of the stones were hauled off to the east, and used to build the second capital, Fornost Erain.  In truth, I do not know the location of the original tower from which this city received its name.  Perhaps my father could tell us, were he here.”  He shook his head.  “There is very little left to see, but there are still Elves in Middle-earth who remember the Faithful, and honor their ancient lands.”

Frodo didn’t understand all of this, but was getting distracted by the trees that lined the road in stately majesty.

“I’ve never seen these before,” Frodo said, craning his neck to peer up into the shadowed branches.  The trees were massive, and some of them quite unusual.

“Indeed, north of the Shire grow many things that are quite different than those to which you are accustomed,” Aragorn agreed.  “Seedlings of many unique plants were brought to these shores from Númenor, the island in the western Sea that is no more; they grow now only in isolated parts of Eriador.”  He smiled.  “I suspect that you will be the first hobbit ever to see them.”

Frodo sat up straighter, suddenly feeling his excitement building again.

“Here we are,” Elladan said.  The three riders halted, then dismounted.  Frodo looked around eagerly, but only saw more trees, and a partially fallen-in tower of stone.  He peered inside, but it was empty.

“This way,” Aragorn said quietly.  He slung one of the packs over his shoulder and led Frodo past the tower, to a large open area of flat stones.  Frodo was at first puzzled by what he was seeing.  The ground far below them, and as far northwards as he could make out, seemed to be pitch black and covered with twinkling stars.  He looked up, then down, seeing very little difference between the sky and the land below.

“Nenuial,” Elladan said, coming to stand beside them.  “The Lake of Twilight.  It mirrors Elbereth’s stars in a way I have seen in no other place.”

“That…” Frodo stared in amazement.  “All that area down there... that’s water?  I knew the lake was big, but--”

“It is,” Aragorn smiled, seating himself on one of the flat stones.  “Lake Evendim, from end to end, is perhaps 50 miles long.”

Frodo sat next to Aragorn, dumbfounded.  Long Lake, on Bilbo’s map of Erebor, wasn’t half that size.  “I want to see it.”  He gazed anxiously into the east, willing the sun to rise faster.

“She comes,” Elladan said softly.  He raised his voice in a song of gladness, his clear voice echoing through the hills and filling the air with music.  After a moment, the first thin edge of the sun appeared above the mountains to the east, and the sky began to brighten.  As if in answer to Elladan’s voice, a chorus of birdsong filled the air.

As Frodo watched, enraptured, the valley and hills lit up.  What he had thought was black ground was black no longer, and most definitely not solid ground; the reflected stars faded, and in their place was clear Lake Evendim, on fire with a golden radiance.  The lake spread before them, mile after mile, glittering in the sun and beautiful enough to take Frodo’s breath away.  Vast areas of water were covered with what looked like white sheets of ice, but which Elladan explained were thousands of birds, resting in this peaceful sanctuary.  The valley in which it lay, spreading eastward to the sparkling Brandywine and beyond, was dotted with meadows, beautiful groves of ancient trees, and tiny streams.  From where they sat, the hills continued to the west and north, surrounding the lake in a great half-circle.  Frodo could see the Blue Mountains, home of the Dwarves who dwelt on the border of Eriador.  And further west, beyond his sight, would be...

“That lake is so big, it must be almost like the Sea,” Frodo mused.  “I sometimes dream about crashing waves, and water to the horizon.”

Elladan and Aragorn exchanged a glance, but said nothing.  This boy’s dreams were intriguing, indeed.

“I see a long stone walkway leading into the water, and a fenced paddock near that pile of tumbled stones.” Frodo pointed.  “And is that a little house?”

“Yes,” Aragorn replied.  “Rangers pass through this area quite often.  The shelter is quite comfortable; you can nap there while Elladan and I unpack our gear.”

“I don’t need to—” Frodo’s protest was cut off by another yawn.

“And this evening,” Aragorn continued, “we will see what fish are willing to be caught for our supper.  Elladan and I will sit idly by while you grill them, wielding those spices and dried herbs you thought I didn’t see you pack.”

Frodo grinned and nodded.

“There are archery targets near the shelter,” Elladan remarked.  “You were wondering if Estel could draw my bow; perhaps you will be able to persuade him to show you.”

“I would love that,” Frodo said enthusiastically.

“Frodo,” Elladan asked curiously, “do you recognize anything?”

“You mean, from my dream?” Frodo asked.  He gazed at the hills, lake, and valley, and shook his head with a sigh.  “No.  Not from here, anyway.”

“No matter,” Aragorn said reassuringly.  “Come, let us break our fast; we will continue on when the sun is higher.”  He opened the pack he had brought and handed out ripe peaches, then drew out some of the cheese and bread they had procured from the last farmhouse they passed.  At the sound of the crackling paper and enticing smells, Scamp poked her head out of the sling and scrambled free.

“You glutton,” Frodo laughed.  He broke off portions of cheese for Scamp, and poured water from his bottle into a small bowl.  “You’ve already had your breakfast, or don’t you recall?”

“Do you forgive us for dragging you up here?” Aragorn asked.

“Absolutely,” Frodo smiled happily.  “Is it safe to swim in the lake?  Washing in streams isn’t very satisfying.”

“You may attempt it, if you wish,” Aragorn chuckled.  He was enjoying Frodo’s delight with their surroundings.  “However, you will find the water to be quite cold, even in summer.  It is fed, as is that pond in Bindbale Wood, from the ice fields to the north.”

“It’s just so beautiful,” Frodo murmured.  Lake Evendim was the largest thing he had ever seen.  The fresh, light greens of the valley contrasted delightfully with the heavily-forested hills, the sparkling water, and the stark white of the enormous stones littered about the valley.  Overgrown, ancient roads radiated outwards in many directions, and Frodo remembered Elladan telling him that the city had been laid out in a star shape.  The foundations of massive buildings were still visible, half hidden in the grass, and he could see circles that might have been the locations of fountains or pools.  It was obvious that Annúminas had once covered a huge area.  Frodo found himself comforted by the sight of the Brandywine, as if a piece of home had followed him north.  He retrieved paper and pens from Biscuit’s saddlebag, and soon lost himself in trying to draw the scene.

Despite the warm sun, a chill breeze began to blow, causing Frodo to shiver.

“Let us head down,” Aragorn said, getting to his feet.  “You will find the valley much warmer than it is up here.”

Still entranced by the beauty before them, Frodo nodded.  He looked back through the trees for a moment, back toward the Shire.  He felt on top of the world.  Perhaps someday he could bring Bilbo here, to see this for himself.

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

Many thanks to Nilmandra, Fiondil, and Jastaelf for offering Quenya advice.

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 11, “When the King Comes Back” chapter 13, and ‘A Short Rest’ from The Hobbit.

Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,
for your King shall come again,
and he shall dwell among you
all the days of your life.

And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,
and he shall plant it in the high places,
and the City shall be blessed.

The song of the Eagle, ‘The Steward and the King’, The Return of the King

Chapter 9:  A Cup of Stars

Frodo opened his eyes and stretched, breathing deeply of air that smelled fresh and green, with a salty tang Elladan had said was from the Sea.  The shelter, sturdily built on a rise next to the lake, had turned out to be surprisingly spacious and well appointed.  Over the years, Rangers had brought or built many useful items.  Chests held spare clothing as well as feather-stuffed blankets.  The walls were hung with well-oiled tools – mostly axes and spades – as well as fish poles, cooking pots, and utensils.  A few rough chairs and tables were scattered about the room, one piled with mismatched plates and bowls.  The packs he, Aragorn, and Elladan had brought sat on another of the tables, and their horses’ gear was piled in a corner.

Frodo rose from one of the comfortable sleeping pallets and peeked outside.  He had only meant to nap for a short time, and hoped he hadn’t missed anything exciting.  Aragorn was walking barefoot along the shoreline, throwing sticks for Scamp.  The energetic pup had been digging, and was frisking about in the way she did only when very dirty and the center of attention – two of her favorite things.

There were several large fire pits nearby, and stacks of downed wood next to the shelter.  Frodo wondered which of these rings of stone marked the place Halbarad and the Dwarves held their meeting just before Scamp’s pups were born.

“Good day, little one,” Aragorn smiled, as Frodo came to join them.  Scamp raced up to Frodo, shaking herself.  Wet sand flew in all directions.

“Now I really need a bath,” Frodo chuckled.  He looked at the lake longingly.  The sun was directly overhead, causing the water to sparkle.

“Best do it soon,” Aragorn advised him.  “The air cools suddenly in late afternoon, as soon as the sun dips below the western hills.”

“May we have a fire tonight?”

“Of course!” Aragorn laughed.  “How else will you grill all the fish?”

“I keep hearing about these fish,” Frodo teased, “but have yet to see them.”

“We will fish early this evening,” Aragorn promised.  “The lake is full of many different kinds, some unique to this area.”

Frodo looked around for Elladan.  The Elf stood within the large paddock, brushing Arthad.  Biscuit was munching on a vine laden with tiny, succulent fruits that climbed the fence, while Romaryn rolled on her back in the long, soft grass.  The paddock had been built around one of the ancient fountains still spilling into intricately-carved basins, so horses could enjoy the sweet water.

Stones, some carved and some of irregular shape, were tumbled everywhere like a discarded set of children’s blocks.  Stars, trees, ships, and strange sea-creatures seemed to be the most popular carvings, even on the fountains and ruined walls.  Groves of trees were large and shaggy, standing majestically in rich pastureage untouched for millenia.  The grasses, and the multitude of colorful wildflowers, included unusual specimens that Frodo couldn’t wait to examine more closely.

“What do you think of Annúminas?” Aragorn asked.

“It’s beautiful here, but very different than I imagined,” Frodo said.  “The Shire is so neat and orderly; this is rather... wild, isn’t it?  I didn’t know there were places like this.  Estel, it’s difficult to imagine a city, especially one made of stone.  What did it look like?”

Aragorn got a faraway look in his eyes.  “I have never seen a map or drawing of Annúminas as it once stood, but I have heard Lord Elrond, and some older than he, speak of it.  The arts flourished here – sculpture, music, dance, horticulture, weaving – and the lake and river were teeming with boats used for both pleasure and trade.  The buildings were large, but as gentle in shape as the land itself; fountains were everywhere; farmsteads and orchards fed the people, and the city’s beauty and nobility was unsurpassed.”

“It sounds absolutely... oh, look!”  Frodo pointed south, high above the hill on which they had been sitting at dawn.  Floating in slow circles was a bird.  Even at such a distance, he could tell that it was enormous.

“An eagle,” Aragorn said.  “They are seen, now and then, above the Hallow.”

“What’s a hallow?”

“It is a high place where the King would stand and give thanks to the Powers, on behalf of his people,” Aragorn said quietly.  “It was a tradition brought from Númenor.  There is a path not far from the one we travelled down this morning, leading up to it.  The Hallow of Elendil, Annúminas’ first king, is now merely a sunken, silent meadow where no one goes.  It is said that the eagles watch... and wait.”

“For what?”

“They await the city’s renewal, and the return of the King.”

The eagle circled twice more, then spiralled upwards until lost to sight.

Aragorn sighed, then shook off the moment of melancholy.  He pointed out an area of the lake a short distance away.  “That section is the most shallow, and as warm as anywhere you will find.  Enjoy your swim.”

“I will,” Frodo said, tearing his eyes away from the sky.  He returned to the shelter, dug soap and a towel out of his pack, then raced to the water’s edge and removed all but his linens.  With a whoop, he flung himself into the clear, fresh water as Scamp ran back and forth along the shore.  Clouds of seabirds rose as one, flying off in search of a more peaceful stretch of water.

Frodo spent a long time swimming in the lake.  He was fascinated by the plants and fish, and the way the sun shot beams of light so deeply into the water.  Finally emerging, blue-lipped and shivering, he dried off and sat in the sun for awhile on one of the large, warm stones, sketching everything he could see.  Later, while Aragorn fished, he and Elladan went off to gather fresh greens.

*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn proved himself a worthy fisherman, and Frodo supervised grilling the large catch with spices and herbs he had carried all the way from Bag End.  When all had eaten as much as they could hold, even Scamp, Frodo downed the last tender piece on his plate and leaned back against one of the huge stumps, completely sated.

“That’s the most delicious supper I’ve ever cooked,” he announced proudly.

“Everything was wonderful, Frodo,” Aragorn agreed, and Elladan nodded emphatically.

 “Let’s just stay here and set up an inn,” Frodo said.

“The Ranger, Elf, and Hobbit, eh?” Aragorn chuckled.  “Do you think we’d get any customers?”

“Absolutely.  And it would be The Hobbit, the Elf, and the Ranger, of course.”  Frodo smiled dreamily.  “Weren’t the mushrooms scrumptious?  I saw hundreds growing beneath the trees; there must be whole fields of them nearby.  Hobbits would flock here if the roads were better.”

“Perhaps someday they will be,” Elladan said. “Who can say?”

“Come here, you scruffy rascal,” Frodo called.  Scamp bounded over from where she was lying in the grass next to Elladan, and Frodo got busy cleaning sand out of the pup’s fur with a small brush.

After the dishes and pans were washed and returned to the shelter, the three friends sat by the large fire they had built.  Scamp soon fell asleep in a fold of Aragorn’s cloak, worn out from a satisfying day of digging, exploring, and chasing sticks and squirrels.

After awhile, Elladan began a song.  The air seemed exceptionally clear, and the stars seemed brighter than usual to Frodo.  Far across the lake, birds peeped and hooted their own night-songs, and he lay back, gazing upwards.

“Isn’t that interesting?" Frodo mused.  "The Cup is just above where Estel said the King’s Hallow lies."  He pointed to a cluster of stars that seemed balanced atop the highest point of the southern hills.

“We call that the Northern Crown,” Elladan said.  “That is fortirië in the High Tongue.  You are witness to a rare sight, Frodo; that grouping of stars only sits above the ancient Hallow at this time of year.  I can see why your folk call it the Cup; some in other lands call it the Cauldron, or...” He stopped as Frodo leaped to his feet.

“Elladan, those stars look like a cup or cauldron, but also... a bowl!” Frodo cried.  “In my dream, the hidden door was under a bowl.  Maybe it means that group of stars.” He gasped in excitement.  “And they're sitting atop a special place!  Estel, didn't you say the Hallow was a sunken meadow?  Another bowl?  Wait, let me think, the door was under a bowl and behind a star.  Hmmm...”

Elladan frowned.  “It is unlikely that your dream referred to this meeting of stars and Hallow.  We would have to arrive at exactly the right time of year to see it.”

“Why couldn’t we?” Frodo asked.  “Didn’t Bilbo and the Dwarves arrive at exactly the right time?”

“Dwarves?”

“Don’t you know the story?  Your father told Bilbo that the runes on the map could only be seen with the same type of moon that shone when they were written; and the thrush knocked on Durin’s Day, which just happened to be the day Bilbo and the Dwarves were sitting on the dragon’s doorstep.”  Elladan looked completely confused, so Frodo turned to Aragorn, who had neither moved nor spoken.  “What do you think?”

“I am intrigued,” Aragorn replied. “There is a very curious stone at the foot of the path leading up to the Hallow; the stars of the fortirië are carved upon it.  I do not recall any door nearby, however.”

“It’s a hidden door,” Frodo reminded him.

“Estel, you know we cannot dig up the Hallow, or even set foot upon it,” Elladan said.

“Of course we cannot,” Aragorn assured him.  “That stone is worth a look, however.  Tomorrow, little one,” he said hastily.  Frodo looked ready to run all the way back to the hill at that moment.

“Frodo, Estel...” Elladan said gently, “do not get your hopes too high.  Frodo did not dream that he found treasure; only that he wished to do so.”

“I’m already bringing home treasure," Frodo insisted.  “Bilbo will be able to add so much to his map once he sees my sketches.”   He sat down again, rather reluctantly.  “Estel, do you think it’s possible we might really find something?”

“Anything is possible,” Aragorn said with a smile.  “But Elladan is right, Frodo.  We must confine our search to the hillside itself; the Hallow is off limits.”

“Until the King comes back?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said softly.  “Until then.”

**TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 15 and 17.

Chapter 10:  Fun and Games

Aragorn smiled.  ‘Keen are the eyes of the Elves,’ he said.  ‘The Riders of Rohan’, The Two Towers

Gentle morning light filtered into the shelter through cracks in its thick, wooden walls.  Aragorn pushed back the blankets and realized that he was alone in the shelter save for a tiny, squirming lump under Frodo’s blankets.  The muffled yips and contented growls told him that Scamp was most likely enjoying one of the chew toys Frodo had brought for her, but he hastily looked toward his boots to ensure that one of them was not the current focus of the pup’s sharp little teeth.  They were still safe on a high shelf where he had placed them alongside his knives and scabbard.

The dog’s presence told him that, wherever Frodo had gone, it wasn’t far.  Aragorn went outside to wash at a nearby fountain, then pulled on a fresh tunic.  Flinging long, wet hair from his face, he looked about and saw Frodo sitting on the stone pier that led into the lake, a fish pole in his hands and a large basket next to him.  One of the firepits was already lit, cooking implements at hand, and Aragorn marvelled that he had slept through so much morning preparation.

As he walked out along the pier, he heard humming.

“Good morning,” Frodo said brightly as Aragorn joined him.  He was wearing his oldest shirt and breeches, and looked perfectly content.  “We tried to be quiet so you could sleep.”

“You certainly were, and I appreciate it,” Aragorn said.  “I usually wake at sunrise, even in Rivendell; however, something about Lake Evendim brings a measure of peace and relaxation I rarely find elsewhere.”

“Except at Bag End,” Frodo smiled.

“Indeed, that is true.”  Aragorn peered into the basket.  “I am quite impressed, Frodo.   You told me it has been many years since you last fished.”

“It has,” Frodo said.  “I used to fish with my father, but... well, not much since then.  The fish seem eager to approach my line; these worms must be particularly succulent.”

“May I assume that since you are doing the fishing this morning, you expect Elladan and me to cook breakfast?”

“Exactly!” Frodo laughed.  “I hope you were paying attention last night; I like my fish with lots of garlic.”  The line at the end of his pole tightened suddenly, and after a brief struggle, one more good-sized fish lay in the basket.  “That’s plenty, don’t you think?”

“I do, and nicely done,” Aragorn said approvingly.  “Where is Elladan?”

”Swimming,” Frodo said, getting to his feet.  “He doesn’t think the lake feels very cold at all.”

Aragorn grinned.  “Infuriating, is it not?  You should see him and his brother in the snow.  They barely notice it.”  He hefted the basket onto his shoulder and carried it to the firepit, where he and Frodo worked side by side to clean the fish.

“What were you humming?” Aragorn asked.

“Something of Bilbo’s.  He has a tune for every occasion.”

Aragorn picked up the last fish in the basket.  “I hope you do not tire of these,” he said.

“Impossible,” Frodo declared.  “There are so many different ways to prepare them!  Besides, we still have plenty of fruit left, and tonight we can roast the potatoes we’ve been carrying with us.  Did you know about all the vegetables growing wild here, and the berries?  And Elladan says there are some very old orchards not far away.”  He stopped for breath, but continued before Aragorn could respond.  “Poor Scamp was very confused this morning.  After I fed her, she ran right out to the horses to wait; she’s grown used to us packing up and riding every morning.  Do you know how long we’ll stay?  Can you and Elladan show me some archery today?  I’ve seen hobbit archers, but not--”

“Frodo, you astound me,” Aragorn chuckled.  “You have not mentioned the ‘hidden door’ once.  Is this the same boy who was ready to dig up every inch of the Evendim Hills last night?”

“I’m very excited we’re going to search for treasure,” Frodo said, rinsing his hands in a basin of fresh water.  “It’s just that... well, it doesn’t matter whether we do it today or tomorrow.”  He gazed up at Aragorn, his eyes brimming with sudden tears.

Aragorn looked into Frodo’s face, concerned.

“Are you all right, little one?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” Frodo whispered.  “I’m having such a good time.  I truly don’t care what we do, and it doesn’t matter if we find treasure or not; I’m just so happy you wanted to bring me with you.”

Greatly moved, Aragorn gave the boy a hug, remembering what Bilbo had told him years ago.

“You cannot imagine, Aragorn, what it’s meant to Frodo that someone like you cares so much about him.  You’ve made him feel very special.”

“It is a joy to have you with us on this trip,” Aragorn assured the tween.  He felt Frodo’s arms tighten about his neck for a moment.

“Estel, how long can we stay?”

“A few more days,” Aragorn said.  “If we are gone more than two weeks, Bilbo might worry.”

“I know,” Frodo said.  “How he’d love it here; I’d like to bring him someday.”

“Why not do so?” Aragorn asked.  “The Dwarves will soon begin mining nearby, and apparently Bilbo has great renown amongst them.”

“This really is very suspicious,” Frodo said with a grin, pointing over Aragorn’s shoulder.  Elladan, finished with his swim, was walking over to join them.   “He avoided doing dishes at Bag End, and now arrives just after we’ve done all this work with the fish.”

Aragorn burst out laughing.  “I doubt it is deliberate, Frodo; however... one cannot help but marvel at the cleverness of Elves.”

After breakfast, Frodo was eager to ride on Arthad, so Aragorn saddled the great horse and together they set out along one of the ancient roads.  They rode as far as the river, and explored the banks along which docks, shops, homes, and irrigated fields had once flourished.

“I’m the first hobbit to see all this,” Frodo said in awe.  “The Brandywine looks so much bigger and wilder here.  The color is different, too.”

“Lake Evendim is its source,” Aragorn told him.

“And where does it end?”

“Far southwest of the Shire,” Aragorn said.  “It empties into the Sea.”

Frodo felt a shiver of excitement.  The world was so big.

Aragorn gazed at the river, thinking about why they had come.  Frodo was no longer in a hurry to search for the ‘hidden door’, but his own heart burned with curiosity.  What, if anything, had Elendil left behind?  Would it truly be possible to find it in the short time they had?

“Shall we go back?” Aragorn asked after awhile.  “Elladan has had more than enough practice time, not that he needs it.”

“Do you think you can beat him?” Frodo asked.

“No,” Aragorn laughed.  He turned Arthad back toward the lake and urged him into a fast gallop, eliciting whoops from the delighted boy.

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo sat atop one of the huge, tumbled stones, munching apricots and enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun from above and the stone’s smooth surface from below.  Because he had requested it, Aragorn and Elladan were taking turns with Elladan’s bow, demonstrating their archery skills.  Frodo watched with increasing amazement at the trick shots being attempted, first afoot and then from horseback, so difficult they seemed almost magical.  Nearly every shot by Aragorn, and every one by Elladan, was on or near the bullseye -- and the two were gradually moving further and further away from the targets until Frodo wondered how they could even see them.

“Enough!” Aragorn finally cried, signalling the end of the competition.  He and Elladan rode back to where Frodo was sitting, and dismounted.  “Elladan, I concede!”

Elladan bowed low.  “You acquitted yourself well, Estel.  Frodo, did you enjoy the contest?”

“Oh, you were both splendid,” Frodo cried, clapping enthusiastically.  “That was wonderful!”

“Thank you,” Aragorn laughed.

“What about horse racing?” Frodo asked eagerly.  “Which of you would--”

“I suspect that Elladan would win that, as well,” Aragorn said with a twinkle in his eye.  “I believe Romaryn has learned to read his thoughts; I have seen only one other horse respond more quickly to another’s will.”

“Who?”

“He refers to my brother, Elrohir,” Elladan said, lifting Frodo down from the stone.  “My parents sensed in us certain potentials, and named us accordingly.  Elrohir is the ‘horse lord’ of Imladris.  That is Rivendell,” he explained.

“And you...” Frodo pondered.  “El-adan?  Elf man?  What does your name say of you?”

“I have a strong affinity for the race of Men, such as they who built this city.  I am most curious about their ways and histories, and have endeavored to learn all I can.”

“Is that why you wished to accompany Estel on this trip?” Frodo asked.

“Indeed,” Elladan nodded.

“We are in for a bit of rain,” Aragorn said, eyeing the clouds and sniffing the air.  “We will have to delay our treasure hunt until tomorrow.  Elladan, why don’t you see to the horses, then gather the spent arrows.  Frodo, will you kindle a fire in the pit inside the shelter while I see if the fish are still biting?  The air will chill quickly as soon as the sun sinks behind the hills.”

“Of course!  And I’ll find long sticks for roasting the potatoes.”  Frodo scurried off, calling for Scamp to join him.

Elladan gazed after Frodo, his expression somber.

“What is it?” Aragorn asked.

Elladan turned to his foster brother.  “I do not sense that the Shirefolk have seen bow or arrow used for anything other than sport, or finding meat for the pot.”

“Not since the time of Bandobras Took,” Aragorn replied.

“I hope it remains thus.”

“So do I,” Aragorn said softly.   He looked around.  “Had I been born another man’s son, Elladan, or were the times less perilous, I might have built a home here, or founded a small, northern settlement for our people.”

“Perhaps someday this city will regain its former glory, my brother,” Elladan said quietly.

“Perhaps,” Aragorn smiled.  “In the meantime, the eagles wait patiently for whatever is to come... and I must continue to do the same.”

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “When the King Comes Back” chapter 6.  Bilbo’s bath song is taken from ‘A Conspiracy Unmasked’, The Fellowship of the Ring.

Chapter 11:  Behind the Curtain

Many jewels the Noldor gave them, opals and diamonds and pale crystals, which they strewed upon the shores and scattered in the pools; marvellous were the beaches of Elendë in those days and many pearls they won for themselves from the sea, and their halls were of pearl, and of pearl were the mansions of Olwë at Alqualondë, the Haven of the Swans, lit with many lamps.’Of Eldamar’, The Silmarillion

“O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain, and the brook that leaps from hill to plain. But better than rain or rippling streams...” Elladan stopped and pointed to Aragorn.

”...is water hot that smokes and steams,” Aragorn sang triumphantly.

“Wonderful!” Frodo beamed. “You remembered!” After supper the previous evening, the sound of rain on the shelter roof reminded Frodo of one of his favorite songs, which a delighted Aragorn and Elladan had asked him to repeat several times.

Aragorn grinned. “I haven’t the voice of either of you, but a lighthearted tune seems appropriate for this lovely morning.”

The day had dawned dry and clear, the whole valley sparkling with dewy droplets from the summer shower. Over a breakfast of fruit and cheese, the three friends discussed their “treasure hunt”. Rather than walk back to the southern hills, only a few miles from the shelter, they decided to ride.

“And we can fill this with treasure, should we find something,” Frodo said with a laugh, fastening the Gamgees' sling about his waist.  He placed Scamp inside, then mounted Biscuit.  He rode next to Aragorn, with Elladan slightly behind, as was his habit.   The distance was traversed quickly, and soon the southern hills loomed above them once more.

“There’s the path we came down,” Frodo said, pointing.

“And the path to the Hallow is about a half-mile to our right,” Aragorn said, directing Arthad westward, riding between a small stream and the base of the hills. “The carving is directly ahead; I saw it once, years ago, and remembered it when we spoke of the stars last night.”

Aragorn had mentioned “a very curious stone” on which the star grouping was carved, but as they approached it, Frodo gasped in surprise at its size. Dismounting, he gazed up at the ancient stone, fully four times higher than the monument to Bandobras Took they had visited.

“There were two of them,” Aragorn remarked, pointing a short distance away. The remains of a second pillar lay tumbled in the stream, its half-dozen pieces partially submerged.

“Boulders must have fallen from above,” Elladan said, looking up the hill. “The pillars would have stood together, as guardians of the path the King would walk.” He inspected the broken stones, but any carvings they may once have borne were now covered in moss, or worn smooth by the rushing waters in which they lay.

Frodo let Scamp down, and he, Aragorn, and Elladan tethered their mounts within easy reach of the succulent plants that draped the hill like a blanket.

“We’d need hundreds of horses eating night and day to clear all this,” Frodo said, frowning at the thick covering of brambles, bushes, and wild grapevines. “Where do we start looking?”

“It is difficult to say,” Aragorn said regretfully. “These plants have been growing for millenia; there could be a hundred ‘hidden doors’ right in front of us, and hidden they remain.” He sighed. He had long wondered what this place had looked like, in its glory. Elendil himself had walked here. What had it been like? What had he been like?

Frodo caught hold of one of the trailing vines and shook it. The rain droplets caught in the vegetation showered down and over him. He laughed, shaking his wet curls.

“Sweet is the sound of the falling rain,” Aragorn teased.

“Estel, that song is about a lovely hot bath, not a freezing cold...” Frodo looked around. “Where’s Scamp?”

“She was at my feet a moment ago,” Aragorn said as Frodo called the dog’s name several times. “Frodo, there is no need to panic; she would never run off and leave you.”

“I know, but where is she?” Frodo eyed the hillside in alarm. “Do you think she found a way behind some of these vines, and got stuck?” He began to pull at the vegetation, causing another shower of water to drench him. “There could be anything between this stuff and the hill -- wolves or bottomless pits or--”

Elladan motioned Frodo to silence.

“I hear something,” the Elf murmured. He laughed suddenly, then pointed to an area of vegetation a few yards west of the path leading up to the Hallow. A tiny form was wriggling out from behind the thick brambles, sneezing wildly.

“Scamp, don’t ever disappear like that again,” Frodo burst out in relief as the pup ran up to him. He peered down at her in alarm, unsure whether to laugh or be worried. “What did you get into?”

Scamp’s golden brown fur seemed to have turned snow-white. She sneezed one last time, then shook herself. From eartips to tail, a powdery substance flew in every direction in clouds that sparkled in the sunlight. After one more shake, she trotted calmly over to the stream for a drink.

“Crazy dog,” Frodo said fondly.

Elladan knelt to inspect the glittering substance, and rubbed it thoughtfully between his fingers.

“Whatever’s behind all this sure is dusty,” Frodo said, trying to peer into the tiny hole through which Scamp had emerged.

“This is no ordinary dust,” Elladan said in a hushed voice.

“What do you mean?” Frodo asked. “Could it be the remains of crockery or statues? Maybe the pillar isn’t the only thing that got broken.”

“Frodo,” Elladan said, “this powder contains crushed pearls.”

“Pearls?” Frodo asked in amazement. “Bilbo has a belt with pearls and clear crystals, given to him by the Dwarves. I saw it in the Mathom-House once.”

“Bilbo has quite a treasure, then,” Elladan said. He peered closely at the fine dust. “This contains pearls, I am almost certain of it. And there are also traces of... opals.”

“I’ve never seen an opal,” Frodo said. “What are they like?”

“They are very rare, and sparkle with many colors,” Aragorn said, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Legends speak of gifts the Elves gave the Númenoreans; it is said that Elendil’s people brought many gems from the West to Middle-earth.” Elladan nodded in agreement. “I wish to see what Scamp discovered back there, even if it is crushed to dust.” Aragorn pulled the hilt of Narsil out of its sheath and began to cut through the curtain of vines separating them from the hillside.

Frodo stared at the weapon, which was missing fully a foot of its length. He couldn’t imagine why a Ranger would carry a broken sword.

Elladan stepped to Aragorn’s side, his own sharp knife at hand. Working together, they laboriously cleared away enough of the vegetation to allow one of them to squeeze through. Aragorn cleaned the broken sword before sliding it back into its sheath, then drew out flint and looked around.

“Do you need something to burn?” Frodo asked, pulling a dead, leafy branch from beneath a nearby bush. “Here, this is dry.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn said. He kindled a flame and lit the makeshift torch.

“Be careful,” Elladan said with a frown. He was clearly uneasy letting his foster brother out of his sight.

“Be at ease, Elladan,” Aragorn chuckled. “There can be no more than three or four feet of space between these vines and the side of the hill. I doubt that any dragons or brigands lurk where only moments ago only a tiny pup could enter.” With that, he thrust the burning branch ahead of him as he disappeared into the opening they had made. Elladan waited restlessly for his return, while Frodo knelt to examine the powder for himself.

At last Aragorn re-emerged, his boots covered with the same dust that Scamp had shaken off herself.

“What took you so long?” Frodo asked. “What’s making all the dust? Where’s the branch you lit?”

“You will soon see for yourself,” Aragorn said.  He looked rather dazed.  “Frodo, your remarkable dog has done it again.  Hidden behind these vines, a long passageway has been cut directly into the hill.  I followed it for quite a distance, and at the end is... a door.”

Frodo suddenly grew pale.

“Do you mean...” he faltered. “There’s something here after all? My dream may be true? I never really believed it.”

Aragorn smiled broadly. “I did.” He gazed at the nearly impenetrable curtain of vegetation in awe. “This growth is so thick, had we searched in any other spot we would never have known anything was here. Over time, the passage was apparently overgrown and forgotten.”

“Why do you think anyone built a tunnel into a hill? The folk who lived here weren’t hobbits, after all,” Frodo said.

“I am quite eager to discover the answer to that question myself.”

“Should we get more branches? Is it dark in there?”

“It was, but ancient torches are still in place, mounted at intervals along the passageway,” Aragorn said. “I lit several of them with the branch.”

“Let’s go, then,” Frodo said excitedly.

“Not quite yet,” Aragorn said, walking over to where Arthad was tethered. He removed a cloth-wrapped cheese from the horse's saddlebag, took the cloth to the stream and dampened it, then handed it to Frodo.

“You'll have your water bottle with you, but tie this over your mouth and nose. Our feet will stir up so much dust, I fear it might be enough to bother anyone close to the ground.”

Frodo nodded, and tied the cloth around his face. “What about Scamp?”

“I will carry her,” Elladan said, kneeling to untie the sling from Frodo’s chest. He bound it to his own, then scooped up the dog and placed her securely inside. Scamp looked out over the edge, but seemed unlikely to leap out.

“Ready?” Aragorn asked.

“Wait, Estel, there is something I would like to say,” Elladan said quietly. He faced Aragorn and Frodo, looking from one to the other. “Frodo,” he said gravely, “there are hundreds of stones in this valley upon which stars are carved. If you had not been clever enough to notice the placement of the fortirië above the Hallow, and if Estel had not mentioned the stone at the foot of this path, we might have searched elsewhere, in vain, for any proof of your dream. And Scamp has indeed proved a worthy huntress.” He bowed respectfully, then smiled. Frodo was fairly bouncing with glee, and Aragorn obviously could hardly wait to show them what the pup had discovered. He had to admit that he was growing quite curious, himself.

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter quotes “Quarantined” chapter 11, and also references “Force of Nature” chapter 3.

The words of Elendil can be found in the chapter 'The Steward and the King', The Return of the King, and they are also sung by Aragorn in the film at his coronation.

Chapter 12:  Behind the Door 

In those days the Heir of Isildur arose in the North, and he took the shards of the sword of Elendil, and in Imladris they were reforged; and he went then to war, a great captain of Men.  He was Aragorn son of Arathorn, the nine and thirtieth heir in the right line from Isildur, and yet more like to Elendil than any before him.  ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, The Silmarillion

Frodo looked about him in wonder.  The tunnel had been beautifully made, its ceiling perhaps 12 feet high, and wide enough for several to walk abreast.  As Aragorn strode ahead, igniting each torch in turn, the long passageway glowed with light.  Ancient paintings and carvings on the walls had been nearly obliterated by the slow, yet inexorable, press of time.  Tree roots had infiltrated minute cracks in the walls, widening them, and persistent tendrils of plants had crept in unseen and untended.  The floor was covered with a thick layer of dust, caused by decaying vegetation and the remains of gems that must have once studded the walls and given them great luster.

“Do you see?” Elladan asked, pointing out all the tiny holes in the walls.  “Pearls and opals are very fragile, Frodo.  As the hill settled, and plants stretched out and grew, the gems would have been compressed and crushed; only their dust now remains.  There must have been many thousands of them.  In its glory, this passageway would have sparkled like a star-filled night.”

“It’s hard to imagine what used to be here,” Frodo said, his voice slightly muffled behind the damp cloth covering his nose and mouth.  They walked slowly forward in the direction Aragorn had gone, hobbit and elf both stepping lightly and stirring up little dust.  “Can you tell what the paintings showed?”

Elladan looked closely at what remained of once brightly-painted murals.

“I believe this entire passageway depicted the time when the Númenoreans came to Middle-earth,” he murmured, letting his imagination -- and tales told him long ago -- fill in what could now only faintly be discerned.  “See, here are ships, and over there are throngs of people arriving in a new land.”  He shook his head in wonder.  “Did they realize their homeland was drowned forever beneath the Sea?  Were they dazed with grief, or eager to tame new lands?  We will never truly know.”

“Is Scamp all right?” Frodo asked suddenly.

“She sleeps,” Elladan smiled, gazing down into the sling he wore.  “I believe she is now well used to this means of transport, and may even miss it once you return home.”

“I think you’re--”

There was a sudden crash, and Aragorn’s voice shouting something.  Elladan raced ahead, Frodo at his heels, to find his foster brother face down in the thick dust, coughing violently. 

Elladan quickly pulled Aragorn to his feet.  “Are you injured?” he asked.

“No, I... I just...” Aragorn was coughing so violently, he could scarcely speak.

“Estel, take this,” Frodo said quickly, opening his water bottle.  Aragorn grabbed the bottle and drank deeply, his coughing finally subsiding.

“Thank you, little one, that’s much better.  What is so amusing?”

“You look like Scamp did; your face and hair are all white from this stuff.  Maybe you should be the one wearing this cloth.”

“You are an impertinent hobbit,” Aragorn said, ruffling Frodo’s hair.  “I just tripped on something.”  They looked down, and saw that one of the tree roots was protruding from the otherwise-smooth stone floor.

“Rangers and tree roots,” Frodo giggled.  “At least you didn’t break your ankle like Halbarad.  You didn’t, did you?”

“No,” Aragorn smiled. 

Frodo and Elladan kept their distance while Aragorn brushed off his clothing and shook most of the dust out of his hair.

“I hear water,” Elladan said suddenly.  “It comes from there.”  He pointed to the slab of stone marking the end of the passage, just a few feet away.

“Is this the door?” Frodo asked in excitement.  “How do we get through it?”

“It was my haste in approaching this barrier that caused me to pay less attention, and trip,” Aragorn admitted.  “Elladan, what do you make of these old carvings?  You read Quenya better than I.”

Elladan took a torch from the wall and held it up to the door, carved to resemble a growing tree.  At the top of the tree glittered a few crystals – all that now remained of a pattern of seven – and a line of curious writing.

“The inscription reads...”  Elladan smiled and stepped back.  “Estel, these are the words Elendil is said to have spoken when first he led his people ashore.  It is more fitting that you speak these words, than I.”

Frodo looked from Elladan to Aragorn, not understanding the look that went between them.  He saw Aragorn approach the door and touch a word he seemed to recognize.

“Utúlien,” Aragorn read aloud.  “Frodo, that is Quenya for--”

There was a sudden crack, and Aragorn instantly grabbed Frodo and hurried him away from the door, lest something fall in on them.

“What’s going on?” Frodo asked.  “What did you say?”  He gasped as the stone seemed to shudder, then slowly opened outwards.  There was nothing to be seen on the other side but darkness.  He and Aragorn could both now hear the sound of water that Elladan had noted before.

“It means, “I am come,” Aragorn said, as amazed as Frodo.  “Elladan, what do you make of this?  Is the doorway sound?”

“It appears to be,” Elladan said, examining the door.  Its enormous hinges were now clearly visible.  “Estel, I believe you discovered by accident the key to this door – a combination of certain words in the Elder Tongue, which would have been spoken by those who made their home here.”  He looked back upon the passageway they had traversed, then up to the ceiling, pondering something.  “We have come far enough to be under the Hallow.  Interesting.”

Frodo peered into the blackness.  “Is it safe to go further?”

“Let me see what is there,” Elladan said softly.  He thrust the torch beyond the doorway into the darkness, hesitated a moment, then came to Aragorn’s side.  “This was the King’s own chamber.  Perhaps it was his voice alone that would open the door.  I doubt anyone but the King ever walked down that passage, or entered this room, once they were constructed.”

“Why do you say that?” Aragorn asked.

“Because of what lies within,” Elladan said simply.  “With your permission, brother, I will go first, this time, and light your way.”

Aragorn nodded slowly, and Elladan disappeared into the dark void beyond the door.

“Estel,” Frodo sighed, “you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do at supper tonight.  I scarcely understand what you two are talking about.”

“I know, little one, and I apologize,” Aragorn said.  “An ancient place brings to our minds folk of legend, and tales you might not have been taught.”

They saw the darkness lift ahead of them; apparently Elladan had found torches waiting beyond the door.  Elladan returned, and motioned Aragorn to proceed.

“Enter, brother.  It is your right.”

Aragorn smiled down at Frodo. “Come, together we will see where your dream has led us.”

Frodo nodded, but eyed the door doubtfully.

“What if it closes again when we’re in there?”

“I will stand guard,” Elladan assured him.

Frodo followed Aragorn past the massive door and into the brightly-lit, perfectly round chamber beyond. There was at once so much to see that he scarcely knew where to look first. A miniature waterfall gushed from an aperture in the ceiling, spilling into a beautiful basin from which the water drained out somewhere deep below them; the previous night’s rain had increased its flow temporarily.  The smooth stone walls were painted with landscapes, ships and mountains, birds, trees, and strangely-dressed people.  Unlike the outer passage, these scenes were perfectly preserved in vibrant colors.  Looking up at the domed ceiling, Frodo saw glittering stars set in groupings only vaguely familiar.  For the first time, he wondered if the stars had looked different thousands of years ago.

At the far side of the chamber was a niche cut in the rock, which held only a silver chest encrusted with gems and crystals. And the floor......

“Estel, look at the floor!” Frodo cried out.  “Is this the city, do you think?  None of that dust got in here to cover it over, except what we’ve tracked in.”

Aragorn looked down, startled, and a smile slowly spread across his face.  There, at his feet, was a depiction of Annúminas in its glory, every building and street shown in perfect detail.

“Frodo,” he said, “if you would not mind, I will bring you back here with that sketch book so you can draw this for me.”

“I’d love to,” Frodo smiled, happy to have a skill his friend could use.  “Is that pedestal special?”

Aragorn turned back to the only object in the room that had caught his attention when he entered – the single thing on which Elladan had based his assumption that the King, and only the King, had ever come here.  The pedestal was fully six feet high, with a round indentation at the top that Frodo could not see.

“Yes,” Aragorn said softly. “Elladan was correct; this room was used only by the King.  This pedestal must have held the palantír of Annúminas – a globe by which Elendil could see his sons, in kingdoms to the south.”  He touched the pedestal reverently.  Elendil himself had stood in this very spot.

“That’s something else you can explain to me later,” Frodo said, still looking around.  He walked over to the silver chest, wondering if Estel would open it, but suddenly one of the paintings caught his eye and made him gasp.

It was a Man, taller than any in the crowd of people among whom he stood.  He wore a shining gem at his brow, and held a sword outstretched toward the direction of the setting sun.  Frodo looked carefully at his face and eyes, and the sword he held.  The hilt was the very same... it looked just like...  He turned back to Aragorn, his heart pumping wildly.  What had Elladan said?

“These are the words Elendil is said to have spoken when first he led his people ashore.  It is more fitting that you speak these words, than I.”

“Enter, brother.  It is your right.”

“Estel,” Frodo whispered, “why do you carry a broken sword?”

Aragorn stared at him, frozen with shock.

“What did you say?”

“It’s his, isn’t it?” Frodo asked, pointing to the painting.  “Is that Elendil, the first king?  Why do you have his sword?”

“Frodo...”

Frodo’s mind was whirling.  He remembered what Estel had told him years ago, when they first met... when the Ranger had asked him to stop using the name ‘Aragorn’.

“This may be difficult, but you must not tell anyone my name.  Not your friends, or cousins, or anyone.”

“I won’t, if you don’t want me to.  Are you a secret?”

“Something like that.  Perhaps someday I won’t be, but for now, I’m just a Ranger who came to stay for a few days.”

“Can I make up a name for you?”

“Why don’t you call me ‘Estel’.”

“Why?”

“That’s a new Elvish word for you; it means ‘hope’.  My foster-father used to call me that.”

“Why did he call you ‘hope’?”

“People are expecting me to accomplish many things.”

“He looks just like you!” Frodo insisted, coming back to the present.  “If you braided your hair, and wore a different style of...”  He looked up at Aragorn, his eyes huge in the torchlight.  “Estel?”

Aragorn knelt to look into the hobbit’s troubled face.

“Yes, little one?”

“Who... are you?”

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 15, “Force of Nature” chapter 6, and quotes “Reflections of the Past” chapter 3.

Chapter 13:  Gems from the West

Many treasures and great heirlooms of virtue and wonder the Exiles had brought from Númenor.  ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, The Silmarillion

Frodo was staring at him in confusion, his large blue eyes longing for answers to the question he had since they first met.

Who are you?

Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment, remembering...

“I know you’re a secret, but just a short walk?  Maybe up around the back of The Hill?  We can walk for a bit along The Water.  You left last time before I could show you anything.”

“I’d love to.  And I’m not that much of a secret, at least not in the Shire -- just my name.”

“Will you ever tell me about it?”

“Perhaps...”

It was time.  Bilbo already knew almost everything, and Frodo had shown remarkable restraint and discretion with what little he did know.

Aragorn smiled, his eyes meeting Frodo’s. “I will tell you all that you wish to know, this evening; perhaps more than you wish to know.”

“Truly?”  Frodo lit up with joy, and threw himself into Aragorn’s arms.  “Oh, I’ve been wondering about you for so long, Estel.  I knew you were special, and that you were Chieftain for a reason, and...” He pulled back, suddenly serious.  “I can keep secrets, I promise.”

“I know that,” Aragorn said.  “Are you cold, little one?  You’re shivering a bit.”

“Yes,” Frodo admitted.  He had been drenched in water before entering the passageway, and the air within the chamber was quite cool.  He pulled the damp cloth off his face.

“What do you say to lunch outside in the sunshine?  I’m sure you’d like to get dry.”

“But... what about the chest?” Frodo blurted out.  “Aren’t you dying to open it?  Maybe that’s the treasure!”

Aragorn burst out laughing.  Neither the lure of warmth nor food could dampen his young friend’s innate curiosity.  He gazed curiously at the silver chest.  The gems and crystals with which it was decorated flashed and glittered.

“I’m dying to open it, as well,” Aragorn admitted, “but it will be here when we return.”

“I suppose,” Frodo sighed.  “I am getting hungry, and Scamp shouldn’t sleep too much, or she’ll be awake all night.”

“Spoken like a good parent.”  Aragorn stood up and looked about, still amazed at what they had found.  “Leave the torches burning, and we will put them out before we go back to camp.  I want to examine these paintings more closely.”  He and Frodo walked to the doorway where Elladan waited, then the three of them stepped back into the passage.

“Do you have to tell the door to close?” Frodo asked.

Aragorn touched the door gently, and it moved easily.  “I think we can just push it closed when we finish here.”

“That was exciting when it opened, wasn’t it?” Frodo enthused.  “It was just magical.  Elladan, you said the trees are aware, so maybe stones can be aware, too.  Isn’t that what the Dwarves think?”

“Yes, it is,” Elladan said, looking thoughtful.  He had never thought of that comparison, and found the idea intriguing. 

“Mind the tree root, Estel,” Frodo teased.

“I will; that was a most humbling way to approach Elendil’s chamber,” Aragorn said ruefully.

“I’m glad you weren’t the one carrying Scamp,” Frodo said, with a hobbit’s practical logic.  “She would have been squished.”

“Your concern for my safety is heartwarming,” Aragorn chuckled.

Frodo grinned happily; Estel hadn’t changed, no matter who he really was.

The three friends walked back along the passageway and re-emerged into the sunlight.  The sun seem to blaze even more brilliantly after the dark, cool interior of the hillside, and Frodo lifted his face to the warmth.

Elladan sighed with relief. He didn’t enjoy being underground; it reminded him too much of the dark, terrible place from which he and his brother had rescued their mother from the Orcs so many years before.  Shaking off the memory, he woke Scamp and lowered the pup to the ground, where she stood looking up at Frodo quizzically.

“Time for lunch,” Frodo announced, and retrieved packets from Arthad’s saddlebag.  The three friends sat on a flat stone, sharing out the food they had brought.  While Elladan cut up fruit with his sharp knife, Frodo praised Scamp extravagantly for what she had helped them discover.  She looked quite pleased with all the attention, and also with Farmer Cotton’s biscuits and some dried beef.

After an hour in the warm sun, Frodo found himself yawning.

“I wish to hunt for game,” Elladan announced, unfastening Scamp’s sling.  “Romaryn needs exercise, and we need to keep this young hobbit well fed.”

“That’s right,” Frodo grinned.

“I will return soon.”  Elladan mounted Romaryn and rode east, toward the Brandywine.

“Frodo, why don’t you stay out here while I return to the chamber to look at the wall paintings?” Aragorn asked.  “And yes, I will bring the chest out to examine,” he said in answer to Frodo’s look.  “I am as eager as you to see what lies within.”

“What about sketching the floor?”

“Tomorrow we can spend all day here,” Aragorn replied.  “We must head back to the Shire after that, or Bilbo will have a search party out looking for us.”

“That’s true,” Frodo sighed.  He yawned again, and lay down on the warm stone, using Scamp’s sling as a pillow.

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo awoke to the sound of hoofbeats, and opened his eyes to see Elladan dismounting from Romaryn.  Scamp was racing about full of energy, chasing squirrels and digging into enticing holes.

“What is the time?” Frodo asked, sitting up.

“The afternoon progresses,” Elladan said, looking around.  “Is Estel still within the chamber?”

“I don’t know,” Frodo said.  “He wanted to spend time alone when we found the carving of Lúthien.  Let’s--”

Just then, Aragorn emerged from the curtain of vines, carrying the silver chest.  Elladan smiled at him.

“Did you enjoy your time alone, my brother?”

“I did,” Aragorn said.  “What an amazing place.  I looked at every face in every painting, trying to imagine what it was like here.  I also went over every inch of that chamber; if there is something else hidden within, I did not find it.  I suspect this chest is all that remains of the treasures of this city.”

“Did you open it yet?” Frodo asked, hopping down off the rock.  “Is it locked?  Did you shake it?”

“No,” Aragorn smiled.  He knew that Frodo was more excited by the idea of treasure than by the actual value of anything they might find.  He set the chest down and sat on the grass. Elladan and Frodo quickly joined him.

Elladan admired Aragorn’s restraint in leaving the chest unopened until now.  He fervently hoped that all things for which his foster brother waited so patiently would someday come to him.

Aragorn took a deep breath, then slowly unhooked the ornate clasp and raised the lid.  Within the chest was something long and bulky, shrouded in many layers of blue and silver cloth.  Frodo watched breathlessly as Aragorn gently unwrapped the item until it lay revealed.  He heard Elladan gasp, and Aragorn stared at the chest’s contents in speechless wonder.

“Elladan,” Aragorn whispered at last, “you must take this to your father.”

“I know,” Elladan said, and Frodo was amazed to see tears on the Elf’s cheeks.  “I cannot believe it.”

“I’ve seen one of those before, but not that small, or so beautiful,” Frodo said.  “Is it special?  Out of a tale you’ve heard?”

What lay before them was a miniature harp exquisitely wrought of gold and mithril, each string shining.  With great care, Aragorn lifted the instrument from the chest, held it for a moment, then handed it to Elladan.

“Frodo,” Aragorn said, his voice almost inaudible, “this harp exactly matches one owned by Elladan’s father.  Lord Elrond told us that his was one of a pair gifted to both him and his brother, Elros -- who became the first king of Númenor.  Elros died long, long ago.  This could only have been his, brought to Middle-earth by Elendil.  This was obviously greatly reverenced, and is perhaps the only heirloom of the first king still in existence.”

“Lord Elrond’s brother died?” Frodo asked, puzzled.  “I thought Elves lived forever.”

Aragorn smiled sadly.  “That is part of the tale I will tell you this evening.  The fates – and choices – of Elrond and Elros influenced all who have come after them, including myself.”

“Father will treasure this,” Elladan murmured.  He brushed a gentle finger across the strings.  Although badly in need of tuning, each note sounded clearly.  “He believed that any possessions once belonging to his brother were lost forever.”

“I suppose we can strap the chest to Romaryn,” Aragorn frowned, “although--”

“Nay,” Elladan said.  “I will wear the harp, such as minstrels carry them.  We should return the chest to Elendil’s chamber; one heirloom of Númenor should remain at Annúminas, do you not agree?”  He looked into the empty chest and smiled.  “I will leave within it another rare treasure, although not the equal of what we are taking.”  He withdrew from the pouch at his waist the translucent piece of ‘star glass’ that Frodo had given him at Bag End.  “A remnant of a star in honor of a star-shaped city.”  He gently placed the shard within the chest.

“We can wrap the harp in these cloths again, to keep it safe while you travel,” Frodo offered.

“That is precisely what I had in mind,” Elladan agreed.  He smiled at Frodo.  “Our supper is already roasting back at camp.  We should return.”

Frodo got to his feet, then grinned suddenly.  “Estel, you’ll need a bath before supper.  Your hair is still full of dust.”  His eyes sparkled.  “Isn’t this all just amazing?  I wish those gems in the walls hadn’t all been crushed; I’ve seen pearls, but I’d love to see an opal.”

“They were not all crushed,” Elladan said softly.  With a slow smile, he reached into the pouch again and drew forth a handful of small stones.  The sunlight ignited a fire within each, bringing forth sparks of green, red, orange, and blue.  To Frodo’s amazement, Elladan handed him several of them.

“Frodo, Lord Irmo sent you a dream of great value, and I wish to honor it.”

“Thank you!” Frodo gasped.  “Oh, wait until Bilbo sees these.  I thought all I could bring him were drawings for his map!”  He held one of the irridescent stones up to the sun, and smiled at the brilliant colors.  “These would make wonderful necklaces or rings for Merry’s mum, and Aunt Dora.”

Aragorn and Elladan exchanged looks.  Gems from Valinor were beyond price, but the hobbits would enjoy them for their beauty, not their history.

Frodo carefully wrapped the opals in the lunch cloth, then went to wash his dusty feet in the stream.

“I will return this to the chamber, and extinguish the torches,” Aragorn said.  He stood up and lifted the chest.  “Elladan, walking in Elendil’s very footsteps is an extraordinary experience.  Should your father ever place the scepter of Annúminas in my hands, I will have a more profound knowledge from whence it came.”

“That chest will still be here, waiting,” Elladan said softly.  “Perhaps the scepter will someday rest within it.”

“I hope to see that day.”

“Aragorn,” Elladan said, motioning towards Frodo, “what are you going to tell him?”

“Everything he wishes to know,” Aragorn said firmly.

“So,” Elladan said, “you were correct.  There was a danger in allowing Frodo to leave the Shire… but that danger was to you, not him.  Now there will be one more person who knows who you are.”

“Yes,” Aragorn smiled in utter confidence.  “One more person whom I am certain can be trusted with my life.”

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 5, 12, 15, and 17, “Reflections of the Past” chapter 3, and “When the King Comes Back” chapter 13.

Chapter 14:  Aragorn

But Elrond saw many things and read many hearts.  One day, therefore, before the fall of the year he called Aragorn to his chamber, and he said: “Aragorn, Arathorn’s son, Lord of the Dúnedain, listen to me!  A great doom awaits you, either to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin.”  Appendix A, The Return of the King

It was a short ride back to the shelter, and as they approached, Frodo sniffed the air with pleasure.  One of the small, wild boars that roamed the forests to the northeast was roasting over a fire Elladan had kindled in the pit.

“I will see to the horses,” Elladan said, dismounting and setting Scamp down on the ground.  “Frodo, would you gather more of the fresh greens?”

“Absolutely,” Frodo said, hopping off Biscuit.  “Estel, this would be a good time for your swim.”  He stood with his hands on his hips, looking the Ranger up and down.  “You’ll not get a bite of our delicious supper until you clean up.”

“Understood,” Aragorn smiled.  He strode towards the lake, and Frodo ran off with Scamp to collect some of the wild vegetables that grew in abundance in the meadow.

Much as Frodo had declared that he could never tire of fish, the tender and flavorful meat Elladan served them that evening was a welcome change.  As the sun set behind the western hills and the first stars were reflected in Lake Evendim’s smooth surface, Frodo sat comfortably against one of the tree stumps that surrounded the firepit and sighed happily.

“That was wonderful,” he said.  Scamp lay curled in his lap, sheltered and warm under his cloak, her tummy as rounded and full as Frodo’s.  “Elladan, you cook almost as well as...”

“A hobbit?” Elladan asked.  “High praise indeed.”

Aragorn felt Frodo’s eyes on him, and turned to face his young friend.  “It is all right,” he nodded encouragingly.  “You may ask your questions.”

“Aragorn,” Frodo whispered.  He hadn’t uttered that name since the week they met.  “Does your name mean something?”

“Yes, it does.  ‘Ar’ is Sindarin for ‘noble’, or ‘royal’."

“Why don’t you use it?”

“Hearing such a name would alert those who listen for such clues,” Aragorn said gravely.

Frodo thought about what little he knew of his friend.  “You were raised in Rivendell after your father died, and Lord Elrond called you ‘Estel’.”

“Yes.”

“Was your father called ‘Estel’ as well?  Or just you?”

“Just me.  My father’s name was Arathorn.  His father was Arador.”

“But they had that ‘Ar’ prefix,” Frodo frowned.  “Why weren’t they a secret, too?”

“They took such names as were given them by the folk they met, as I have done.  I have been ‘Strider’ for many years in the North, and go by other names in other places.”

“You hide your name, you hide Elendil’s broken sword... Gandalf told me that there are evil things in Middle-earth – creatures with dark hearts. Are they looking for you?”

“No,” Aragorn said, “but if they knew I lived, they would be.”

“Why?”

“It is believed by many that the line of Elendil was extinguished or, at most, is powerless and forgotten.  Although that belief has been encouraged, all Rangers are of that line.”  Aragorn took a deep breath.  “Of all Rangers, I am the closest to a direct descendant as now exists in Middle-earth.”

“You’re descended from the king of this city?”

“Yes, Frodo.”  It was Elladan who spoke.  “However, Estel is more than a descendant of Elendil; the blood of Númenor runs strongly in his veins, as if the millenia had never passed.  It is a rare occurrence, and one my father recognized at once.”

“What does your father have to do with it?”  Frodo asked.  “Oh, because his brother was the very first king?”

“For that reason, and others,” Elladan said softly.  “My father has the gift of foresight, and senses many things that others would not know.  It was he who told Estel his true name and inheritance.”

“His inheritance?” Frodo sat up straighter, sensing that they were finally getting to the heart of the mystery.

“Frodo,” Aragorn asked, “How long is it said that the Thain will look after the Shire?”

Frodo gasped in sudden understanding.  “Until the King comes back!  That could be... you?  And there are bad people who wouldn’t want you to be?”  He stared at Aragorn in amazement.  So much made sense, now.  He remembered what Gandalf had told him...

Aragorn is older and wiser than he appears. More beneath the surface than you would imagine.

“Bilbo knows, doesn’t he?  He always says there’s a bit of magic about you.”

“He does,” Aragorn nodded.  “He has even written a verse about... well, about me, and the sword.  You might ask him to recite it for you.”

“Oh, I will,” Frodo assured him.  “Are you really going to be king?”

“That is one possible path,” Elladan said, gazing at his foster brother.  “Father senses that if Estel does not achieve this destiny, no king of Men will rise again in Middle-earth.”

“Is that why you’re so alert all the time, and ride behind him?  You’re protecting him?  But why do the elves care if there’s another king?”

“An excellent question,” Aragorn said.  “Remember what we’ve said about Elros, Lord Elrond’s brother?  He was the first king of Númenor.  Elendil was descended from him.  The Rangers are all descended from him.  Lord Elrond...”

“He’s looking after his brother’s descendants!” Frodo’s eyes were wide with excitement.  “That’s why he makes sure the Ranger families have enough to live on, and took you in and raised you.”  He looked from Elladan to Aragorn.  “You really are brothers, in a sense, aren’t you?  Or more like first cousins, so many times removed that...”  He grew lost in thought, trying to imagine the genealogy involved.

“Are you all right, little one?” Aragorn asked gently.  “This is a lot to absorb all at once.”

Frodo nodded, although he was feeling overwhelmed.  Bilbo had told him about his magic ring, and now Estel had imparted a secret that could endanger his very life.   The thought of being so trusted brought tears to his eyes.

“When I was ill, and asking about you, Gandalf said you were very special.”

“Did he?” Aragorn asked, strangely pleased.

“I already knew it, but not how special.”

Aragorn reached over and hugged Frodo.  “You wished to learn about me, and the Rangers,” he smiled fondly.  “Now you know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Frodo said fervently.  “I won’t tell anyone else.”

“I know that.”

Aragorn was aware that his young friend might need time to absorb all he had heard.  He looked over at Elladan.

“Will you play for us, my brother?  It would be lovely to hear some music.”

“I had thought to let Father be the first to play the harp,” Elladan said.

“You should make sure it works before you take it home,” Frodo said impishly.  “Unless, of course, you don’t know how to play it...”

“You did not tell me that hobbits were so full of mischievous thoughts,” Elladan grinned at Aragorn.  He gazed up at the stars, their beauty – as always – soothing his heart.  “Perhaps it would be pleasing to test the instrument for soundness...”  He rose to his feet.  “I shall fetch it.”

As Elladan left to retrieve the harp from the shelter, Aragorn had to laugh at Frodo’s expression.  It was obvious that the boy was torn between wonder at what he had heard, and a desire to know even more.

“I have more questions, you know,” Frodo said, echoing Aragorn’s thoughts.  “But I have so much to think about right now, I probably won’t sleep for a week.”

“I hope that is not the case!” Aragorn chuckled.  He was relieved that Frodo was not pursuing certain paths of inquiry, at least for now.  The story of how Elendil’s sword had been broken, and the deterioration of the Dúnedain into a wandering, mistrusted people was a long and sad tale, best left for another time.

“Estel,” Frodo whispered, unable to resist asking one more thing, “do you want to be king?”

“There is something I want that can only be achieved by becoming king,” Aragorn said quietly.  “I wish to wed Lord Elrond’s daughter.”

“Elladan’s sister?  The one who looks like Lúthien?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said, his face lighting up in a way Frodo had not seen before.

“She’ll only marry a king?” Frodo frowned.  “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Arwen is the fairest treasure in Middle-earth, Frodo; her father has lost much, and he will not see his daughter wed to any lesser man than one who will bring his brother’s people back to their glory.”

Elladan returned, the miniature harp cradled reverently in his arms.  The Elf sat by the fire, tuning each string.  At last he nodded, and plucked a series of notes that sent a shiver down Frodo’s spine.

“How beautiful,” he murmured.

“Lean against me, if you like,” Aragorn said, and Frodo settled against him.  “Close your eyes.”

If Frodo had thought this night could get no more magical, he was mistaken.  The liquid notes poured over him.  Elladan did not sing, but let the harp speak for him in an ancient melody that might have been heard in this very spot thousands of years before.  As the last note echoed far out over the lake and beyond, Frodo sighed with contentment and opened his eyes.

“I wish Bilbo could hear that, and Sam."

Elladan exchanged a glance with Aragorn, and an unspoken decision was made between them.

“I will accompany the two of you back to Bag End, if you and Estel are not yet tired of my company,” Elladan said.  “I would like to ride with Estel to Bree before returning home, and the road through the Shire is certainly easier and more companionable than finding paths through the Wild.”

“You will?” Frodo asked in pure delight.  “How wonderful!”

“I will return shortly,” Aragorn said, getting to his feet.  “I wish to make certain the horses are well.”

Frodo watched him go, absentmindedly fingering the gems in his pocket.

“Elladan,” he asked, “Did you give Estel any opals?”

“I saved some for him,” Elladan said.  “If all he hopes for comes to pass, they will be part of my gift at his coronation; or perhaps I will have them made into jewelry for my sister.”

”A wedding gift?” Frodo grinned.

“Indeed, that was my thought,” Elladan smiled.  He remembered his vision of Aragorn playing with a child who could only be the son of his sister.  Perhaps that day would, indeed, come to pass after all.  This visit to Annúminas, a seemingly simple journey to help Aragorn investigate a halfling’s vague dream, was giving him a great deal to think about.

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “When the King Comes Back” chapter 1.

Chapter 15:  A Bit of Magic

There a warm welcome was made them, and there were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their adventures.  ‘The Last Stage’, The Hobbit

Within Elendil’s chamber, the splash of water from roof to basin was all that could be heard.  The silver chest rested once again in its niche, containing Elladan’s precious shard of ‘star glass’.   From every direction, the images of Annúminas’ first inhabitants peered out from the painted walls. 

On the floor, an industrious young hobbit lay on his stomach, surrounded by dozens of sketches.  Each sheet was covered with a rendering of a portion of the floor which had been crafted, from squares of colored tile, to show in great detail the layout of Annúminas of old.  Light from many torches illuminated the chamber, aiding him in his work.

“Frodo, you’ve been here for hours,” Aragorn said, entering the chamber.  “I thank you for your diligence, but you must stop.”  After the previous evening’s supper and music, followed by a good night’s sleep, Frodo had awakened that morning eager to return to the chamber and sketch whatever Aragorn wished.  “This is our final day here, little one, and I would not have you spend all of it underground.  Whatever you have done will be enough, I promise you.”

Frodo nodded, wiping his pen and putting it and the ink back into a small case.  He gathered up the sketches and slid them carefully into a small satchel.

“I’ve numbered them,” Frodo said.  “If you lay them out in rows, you’ll be able to see what’s on most of the floor.”  He smiled happily.  “One set of my sketches will help Bilbo enlarge his map, and...”  He looked down at the floor.  “...one set will help you remember this one.”

“Bilbo will be as grateful as I am,” Aragorn said.  He found himself drawn once more to the empty pedestal.  He didn’t fully understand what the palantíri had been like, but this spot must surely have been where Elendil gazed into his.  What had he seen?  How did they work?  Could any yet exist?

“What have you been doing?” Frodo asked.

“I have been exploring with Scamp.  If there is anything else hidden in this area, we were unable to locate it.”

“If Scamp and a Ranger together can’t find something, it isn’t there,” Frodo said firmly.  He stood up and brushed off his dusty clothes.  “Estel, will you ever come back here?”

“I certainly plan to do so.  Besides my own love for this ancient place, there are certain Rangers who would very much appreciate seeing this room.”

“Like Halbarad and Thalguron?”

“Exactly,” Aragorn said. Dragging his gaze away from the pedestal, he knelt and took Frodo’s right hand in his large one.  “Your hand must ache from so many hours of drawing,” he said, gently rubbing the small palm and fingers.  “Better?”

“That feels wonderful,” Frodo sighed.  “There really is a bit of magic to you, isn’t there?”

“Perhaps a bit,” Aragorn smiled.  He got to his feet and began to extinguish the torches.  “But do not underestimate yourself, Frodo; it is not I who had the dream that led us here.”

“I wonder why you didn’t?”

“We all have different gifts,” Aragorn said, his eyes twinkling.  “You, for example, have the gift of excessive impertinence, while I...”

“...have the gift of excessive scruffiness.” Frodo laughed.  “Estel, you’re going to be such a wonderful king.”

“I hope so,” Aragorn said fervently.  “Much depends on it.”  He started to snuff out the final two torches.

“Wait,” Frodo said suddenly.  While there was still a bit of light, he walked over to the painting of Elendil and studied it once more.

“You really look remarkably alike,” Frodo mused.  “Will you use this floor-map to rebuild his city to look as it once did?”

“The Dwarves of the Blue Mountains offered to help rebuild Annúminas should Men once again come into their own,” Aragorn told him.  “Who can say... perhaps that day will come.”

“Are you ready?”  Aragorn reached down and lifted Frodo into his arms.  They had agreed that being carried in and out of the long, dusty corridor was more practical for Frodo than constantly tying and untying a damp cloth about his face.

The room was plunged into darkness as the last torch went out, and the sound of water cascading into the basin suddenly seemed louder than before.

Aragorn stepped out of the chamber, turned, and with one booted foot, pushed the massive door firmly shut.  He hesitated a moment and whispered something – Frodo caught only the name Elendil – before striding back along the tunnel and out into the sunlight.  Elladan was finishing some sketching of his own, making a copy for his father of the carvings on the standing stone.  Scamp lay in a patch of cool shade by the stream, and her tail began to wag vigorously when she saw Frodo.

Before they returned to the shelter, Elladan and Aragorn disguised the gap in the curtain of vines and brambles with thin branches and other pieces of foliage.  When they were finished, the opening was gone; no one would guess that this section of hillside was different than any other.

“You’ve hidden the entrance perfectly,” Frodo said, admiring the camouflage.  “What if years go by before you can return?  How will you find it again?”

“I have paced off and memorized the distance to the entrance from each of the carved stones,” Aragorn said.  He gazed for a moment at the hillside.  “I will remember this place.”

“As will I,” Elladan said.  “Elves do not forget.”

As they turned to go, Frodo promised himself to pay more attention to his dreams from now on; this one had brought him a truly magical adventure.  They would ride south in the morning, stopping in a few days at the same inn near Oatbarton for good meals, a hot bath, and a bit of rest before proceeding on to Hobbiton.

Thinking about everything that had happened, Frodo found himself suddenly eager to return to the Shire.  There was so much to tell Bilbo, he would scarcely know where to begin.

*~*~*~*~*

“So you’re back, Frodo!” The innkeeper hurried forward to greet the smiling lad, his companions, and the tiny pup.  “How did you find the lands beyond the Bounds?”

“Very different,” Frodo said, his eyes shining.  “It was exciting.”

“Ah, youth,” Mr. Burrows chuckled.  He doubted the lad had seen anything more than a bit of fresh scenery, enhanced by the thrill of being Outside.  He bowed to the Ranger and Elf, and saw the trio to the same rooms as before.

“Now don’t you be forgetting, your coin is no good here,” Mr. Burrows reminded them.

“That is very kind of you,” Elladan said.

“Folks hereabouts are still talking about your singing.”  The innkeeper looked up at Elladan hopefully.  “If you’ve a mind to share another bit of song tonight...?”

“Of course,” Elladan agreed, no longer startled at such a direct request.  After so many days in Frodo’s company, he now found the straightforward manner of hobbits to be rather charming.  Conversation amongst Elves was wont to be less hurried, and more an intricately woven verbal dance; it was very different from the hobbits’ unadorned and more concise speech.

“I’ll have baths drawn, and supper will be ready directly.  I suspect we’ll have as good a crowd as last time.”  Mr. Burrows bustled off happily to spread the word.  This was turning out to be a very good month for The Stonebrook Inn, and no mistake.

*~*~*~*~*

“Mr. Frodo!  Mr. Estel!”  Sam waved frantically as he spotted the travellers riding into the field, and ran as fast as he could to meet them.  Laughing, Aragorn halted Arthad and lowered Frodo to the ground.  They had already gone slightly out of their way to return Biscuit to Farmer Cotton’s stables.

Sam, his face shining with excitement, halted a few feet away, but Frodo, heedless of propriety, ran over and pulled his young friend into a hug.

“It’s so good to see you, Mr. Frodo,” Sam beamed.  “I got your letter, sir; it was awful kind of you to write.  Did you have a good time?”

“It was wonderful,” Frodo said.  “I can’t wait to tell you about it.”

“Hullo, Mr. Estel,” Sam said.  He tried to greet Elladan as well, but the words stuck in his throat.  The idea of a real Elf right in front of him still seemed a dream.

“Is Bilbo home, Sam?” Frodo asked, eager for news.  “Has he recovered from his cold?”

“He is, and he has,” Sam grinned.  “He’s missed you.”

“I've missed him, and you as well,” Frodo said.  “Sam, Elladan and Estel are both leaving in the morning.  Could you and your family join us in Bag End after supper this evening?”

“Join you, sir?  All of us?”

Frodo nodded.

“All right,” Sam said.  He was burning with curiosity, but good manners prevented him from asking more.  “And how did Scamp do on the trip?”

“She has been most comfortable,” Elladan said, hopping down lightly from Romaryn.  He reached into the sling about his chest and murmured something, at which point a small, golden-brown face with long ears poked over the edge and looked about.

“She’s been so comfortable in that baby-sling, I hope she can sleep without it now,” Frodo said.

“If she can’t, Ma might let you keep it,” Sam said.  Elladan handed him the pup, and Scamp licked his face enthusiastically.  "Why don't you go on up, Mr. Frodo.  I can tell you're dyin' to see Mr. Bilbo."

With a laugh, Frodo dashed up The Hill and burst into Bag End.  Bilbo was in the kitchen, and he turned around at the commotion as Frodo ran into the room.

“Frodo, my dear lad,” Bilbo murmured, hugging his boy.  “I missed you dreadfully.”

“Oh Bilbo, I missed you, too.”  Frodo stepped back and looked at Bilbo, who seemed once again the picture of health.  So much had happened, in such a short time, he felt as if he had been away for years.

“Bilbo, Estel told me about himself,” Frodo whispered.  “I know about his destiny, and Elendil, and--”

“Goodness me,” Bilbo smiled.  “Something very special must have happened on this journey of yours.”

“It will take weeks for me to tell you everything,” Frodo said earnestly, hugging his uncle again.  “And I invited the Gamgees over this evening, I hope you don’t mind?  Sam never heard Elladan sing, and they’re leaving in the morning, and...”  He looked around the kitchen, noticing for the first time the loaves of fresh bread cooling on the counter, and stew simmering in their largest pot.  “Bilbo, what magic is this?  Did you know we were on our way?”

Bilbo laughed heartily.  “I’ll leave the magic to the Elves, my lad.  Ted Burrows sent word by the Post that you were nearly home, and I wanted to have a supper prepared.  I daresay Estel has been feeding you nothing but roots and twigs, and all manner of sparse fare.”

“Don’t forget the leaves,” the Ranger chuckled, entering the kitchen.

“Aragorn,” Bilbo said gravely, “thank you for looking out for my lad.  I hear you’ve had quite the adventure.”

“We certainly have,” Aragorn said.  “It is quite amazing what can happen when travelling with hobbits.  You should be very proud of this boy, Bilbo.”

”I always have been,” Bilbo said softly.

“Bilbo...” Frodo blushed.  But he was spared further embarrassment by Scamp running into the kitchen to greet Bilbo... and to investigate the delicious smells that signalled supper.

** TBC **

THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 11, "Force of Nature" chapter 8, and “When the King Comes Back” epilogue.  A small portion of this chapter was originally posted in my Livejournal in early 2007.  Bilbo’s verse is from The Fellowship of the Ring.

Chapter 16:  Forever and Ever

The next morning was a midsummer morning as fair and fresh as could be dreamed: blue sky and never a cloud, and the sun dancing on the water.  Now they rode away amid songs of farewell and good speed, with their hearts ready for more adventure.  ‘A Short Rest’, The Hobbit

When Bell and Hamfast Gamgee ushered their four youngest children into Bag End’s spacious parlor that evening, it was obvious that they had been admonished to be on their best behavior.  Aragorn greeted them warmly, then Bilbo introduced the family to Elladan, who sat tuning the small harp.  The girls, who hadn’t heard the stories about Elves from Bilbo that Sam had, were curious and polite, but their parents were positively tongue tied.  In an effort to make everyone feel more comfortable, Frodo whispered something to Sam, who grinned and nodded, then ran back down to Bagshot Row.  When he returned, he had Patch and Blossom with him, and watching Scamp and her pups frolic about soon had everyone smiling and feeling more at ease.  Frodo served tea and sweets, and the Gaffer positively beamed with delight when Bilbo brought out some good ale, and the twins curled up on the rug next to his chair.

As for Scamp, she was soon playing a stealthy game of ‘attack Estel’s bootlaces then retreat’.

“Oh dear,” Frodo sighed.  “She was so good on the trip, leaving those boots alone.”

“What about my boots?” Aragorn asked.

“Maybe they’ll inspire a new fashion among Rangers,” Frodo said, bringing Scamp’s antics to his attention.  “You’re the captain, after all; if your men see your laces all raggedy and shredded, they might do the same to their own, out of respect.”

Aragorn only chuckled.

“What is that, Mr. Elladan?” asked 11-year-old Marigold.

“It is a harp, young one,” Elladan said softly.  “It is very, very old.  Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please,” Marigold said, running to sit between Daisy and May.  Everyone found a seat, and the room grew quiet.

Bilbo closed his eyes, remembering another night more than 50 years ago, when Thorin Oakenshield had played his own harp in a dining-room crowded with 13 dwarves, one wizard, and one very frightened and confused hobbit.  The familiar longing to see mountains and new places flared up in his heart, and Bilbo wondered anew how long he would be content to remain at Bag End.

Elladan began to play, and then to sing, and Aragorn listened in wonder.  Although the words were in Sindarin, this was no ancient melody, but a lighter, more playful song, rare for an Elf.  Elladan sang of youth and innocence, the simple magics of hearth and home, sunshine and meadows... a song of the Shire, and its folk.

Bilbo understood most of the words, but Frodo didn’t even try.  Like the Gamgees, he was transported... swept into the feeling and colors of the music.

Finally the last note faded and all was still, save for the sound of Scamp busily chewing away, doing her best to make Aragorn’s bootlaces as fashionable as possible.  Then there was rousing applause, and a call for more music.

The evening progressed with good food, song, and laughter, and a bit of talk, but Hamfast didn’t want his family to possibly overstay their welcome in the Masters’ home.  At last, with many thanks to Bilbo and Elladan, he and Bell gathered up Marigold and May, who had fallen fast asleep.  Daisy curtseyed to Elladan and Aragorn, and Sam bowed low, with tears in his eyes.  He was speechless with joy.

Frodo looked about for Scamp, and discovered her asleep under Aragorn’s chair.  Sometime during the evening she had apparently gone off to find the baby sling, which had been dropped along with the packs by the front door, and was contentedly curled up on it.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gamgee,” Frodo apologized.  “I don’t know what we would have done without that sling on our trip, but I’m afraid Scamp’s grown awfully attached to it.  I’ll make sure it’s laundered and pressed before—”

“No need, Mr. Frodo,” Bell chuckled.  “You just keep it.  That bit o’ cloth has served its purpose for our family, and then some.”

“Thank you,” Frodo said delightedly.

“Good night, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, scooping up his own drowsy pups.  “It was like magic, wasn’t it?  I feel like my head’s full o’ stars, and always will be, forever and ever.”

“I know, I feel the same way.”  Frodo took Sam aside.  “Oh Sam, I couldn’t possibly let Elladan leave without you hearing him sing.”

“Thank you ever so much,” Sam whispered fervently.  “And you’ll tell me what's out there, beyond the Shire?”

“Of course,” Frodo smiled. “We'll talk tomorrow, and many tomorrows after that.”

*~*~*~*~*

Morning came too soon, and after breakfast, Frodo walked Aragorn and Elladan down to the field to see them off.

“Estel, if I ever meet Lord Elrond, I’ll thank him for making sure you and the other Rangers always have enough to live on,” Frodo said solemnly.  “I’ve been so worried about you.”

“I think he would love to meet you,” Aragorn smiled.

“Thank you so much for telling me your secret,” Frodo said.  “But... I suppose, when you’re king, you’ll forget all about me.” He suddenly sighed and hung his head. 

Aragorn frowned, having heard such things from Frodo before.  Was the boy still so insecure?  He knelt and tilted Frodo’s chin up, and was overjoyed to see that he was being teased; humor and confidence shone from Frodo’s bright, blue eyes.  Not many years before, Frodo’s anxiety about being forgotten or overlooked was genuine; now, that fear seemed to be finally gone.  His young friend had come a very long way.

“Rascal,” Aragorn chided affectionately, gathering the boy into a hug.  “As I’ve told you before, Frodo Baggins, you are unforgettable.  Besides, you have met Elves, and that ensures a unique kind of immortality.”

“It does?”

“Indeed,” Elladan said, kneeling to embrace the youngster in turn.  “Frodo, I told you that my folk have very good memories; once an Elf has met you, forever are you remembered by him.”

“Forever?” Frodo asked, wide eyed.

“And ever,” Aragorn grinned.

“Elladan, I nearly forgot,” Frodo said, digging into one of his pockets.  “Please take this to replace the one you left in the silver chest.”  He handed Elladan one of the remaining shards of ‘star glass’, wrapped in a soft cloth.  “Your father might like to see it.”

“You are most generous,” Elladan said softly.  “These pieces are as rare as the new friendships I have found here in the Shire.  Fare well until we meet again, Frodo Baggins.”  He bowed, then he and Aragorn mounted their horses.

“Pay attention to your dreams, little one,” Aragorn called as they rode off.

“I will!”

Frodo watched them go, a smile on his face.  In the past he had felt bereft and empty when Estel returned to the Wild, but not this time.  He knew now that their paths would cross again, many times; and Elladan and his brother were keeping an eye on his friend, which was a comforting thought.  He walked back up the Lane to Bag End, whistling one of the tunes Elladan had played the night before.

*~*~*~*~*

It was a warm night at the very end of summer when Lord Elrond of Rivendell received word that Elladan had returned from his travels.  His son strode to his side with a haste usually reserved for dire or urgent news, but Elrond knew with one glance that Elladan was bursting with something good to share, not bad.

“I have much to tell you,” Elladan said, embracing his father and unstrapping from his back a bulky item wrapped in shimmering blue cloth.

“Welcome home,” Elrond said warmly.  “You have travelled far, my son, and I see that you need rest.  If your news can wait, we will speak tomorrow, and many days thereafter.”

Elladan was weary, and reluctantly agreed.  After bathing, he ate a light meal and walked in the fragrant gardens before going to his bed.  It was good to be home.  The next day, he and his father met in the Great Hall for a private talk.

“What has happened to bring such excitement to your spirit?” Elrond asked, greatly curious.

“Sit, father,” Elladan urged, guiding Elrond to his favorite chair.  “I went for news of Aragorn, as you know.  When I found him in Bree...”

Elladan spoke about the journey, step by step – hearing his foster-brother’s wish to investigate a dream about which one of his young Shire friends had written him; meeting Bilbo and Frodo Baggins; and the carvings of Beren and Lúthien.

“Aragorn now has two homes in which he is welcomed," Elladan said with joy.  "Here in Imladris, and with these hobbits, who consider him as family.”

“I suspected as much, from what he has told me,” Elrond smiled.  “However, this is not all you wish to share; you are as eager as a youngling with a great secret to tell.”

“There is much more,” Elladan agreed.  He spoke of the journey north with Aragorn, Frodo, and Scamp to the ruins of Elendil’s city, then of the pup’s discovery of a tunnel carved into the hill and the hidden chamber.

Elrond was amazed.   “I know of the carving of the fortirië on the standing stone, at the foot of the Hallows path, but never dreamed there was a chamber nearby.  The records do not speak of it.”

Elladan continued, describing the paintings, the pedestal, and the silver chest.

“Within the chest...” Elladan hesitated, unsure of Elrond’s reaction.  Finally, he carefully unwrapped the ancient harp and lay it in his father’s lap.  Elrond gasped, and caressed the instrument with a shaking hand.  It was a very long time before he spoke.

“You found... this?” Elrond whispered.  To his right lay his own harp, well used and loved.  “Elladan, this can only have belonged to Elros.  I can scarcely believe it.”

“Elendil must have brought it from Númenor, and hidden it where none but the kings would ever know of it,” Elladan said quietly.  “Aragorn spoke the words that opened the chamber.  Father, he not only resembles Elendil in appearance, but in his voice and inflection as well.  This bodes well for what you have foreseen.”

“Perhaps,” Elrond murmured.  He wiped a tear from his cheek.

“The chest held nothing else; this was the Sea Kings’ most revered treasure.”

Elros.  Elrond remembered his boyhood, and sitting at music lessons with his brother.  Long have I safeguarded your descendants.  They are few, but they are worthy of you.  He brushed his fingers over the strings, and smiled at the pure tones.

“Forgive me, but it has already been tuned,” Elladan said.  “Frodo and Aragorn very much wished to hear it played.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Elrond assured him.  He grew thoughtful.  “I remember Bilbo Baggins; from what I have heard from Aragorn, and now you, this boy, Frodo, sounds most interesting.”

“His greatest worry was that Aragorn and his men lived in want,” Elladan said.  “He was much relieved to hear of your assistance.”

“He has the heart of a true friend.”

“Frodo's destiny is linked to that of Aragorn,” Elladan said earnestly.  “it seems strange, but still I know it to be so.  Aragorn has entrusted both Bilbo and Frodo with the secret of his lineage and thus with his very life, but seems well content.”

“I trust his instincts, as I trust yours,” Elrond said with utter conviction.  He handed the harp back to Elladan, and took up his own. “Sit beside me, my son, and we will see if these beauties remember how to speak with one another; let them now sing together as they have not done in far too long.”

And so that night, and for many nights thereafter, the Elves of the Last Homely house rejoiced to hear music linking Age to Age, brother to brother, and father with son.

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo told Bilbo all about the journey, step by step – the thrill of visiting the monument to the legendary Bullroarer; leaving the Shire; seeing the stars reflected in enormous Lake Evendim; Estel and Elladan’s archery competition; how the Brandywine looked, so far north; swimming in the lake; the eagle above the ancient Hallow; Scamp's discovery; and finally, the chamber of the king, and what lay within.

“My dear boy,” Bilbo said at last, “I am simply delighted that you had such an adventure.”

“Oh Bilbo, it was so wonderful,” Frodo said.  “I never imagined I'd really end up bringing home treasure.”  He gently touched the sparkling opals that lay before them on the dining room table.

“Your aunts will love those,” Bilbo smiled, “but the treasure you brought me is something I value more than gems.”  His eyes took in every detail of Frodo's sketches.  “We must work together to fill in my map.”

“You’ll let me help?”

“Of course,” Bilbo assured him.  “You sketch better than I do, now.  And those drawings you made for Estel were first-rate.”

“Bilbo,” Frodo said, “Estel told me you wrote a verse about him.  Would you tell it to me?”

Bilbo smiled broadly.  “I would be happy to.  You and I now have several secrets that we share, do we not?”

“Yes,” Frodo said happily.

“Here we go, then,” Bilbo said.  “Tell me if you like it.”  He took a deep breath, then began to speak...

“All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost...”

That definitely sounds like Estel, and his Rangers, Frodo thought.

“The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost.”

And that sounds like it could be about Bilbo himself.

“From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring...”

Oh my, just like the torches lighting up that ancient chamber after thousands of years in darkness.

“Renewed shall be blade that was broken: the crownless again shall be king.”  Frodo was staring at him.  “What do you think?”

“Bilbo, that’s wonderful.  And wouldn’t it be amazing if Estel truly became king?”

“Yes, it would,” Bilbo said thoughtfully.  “He is a good man, and a wise one.”  He gazed at Frodo.  “Well, my lad, you have met Elves and a future king, and have travelled to where few – if any – hobbits have ever gone.  I am very happy for you.”

“Adventuring is everything I hoped it would be, but also very tiring,” Frodo admitted.  “I’m happy to be home again, at least for now.”

”I feel the same way, Frodo lad.  Exactly the same way.”

** END **